#WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT MIRRORS THE WAY BOBBY LOST A LIFE

[dnalt-d2]

OH MY GOD I WAS BUSY PLAYING DND WHAT DO YOU MEAN PEPITO LOST A LIFE?!?!?!

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

Greek Tragedy

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader, Locklyle

Summary: Orpheus AU aka Orpheuswood

Warnings: angst, dead of a main character, english is not my native language

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Big thanks to @uku-lelevillain and @bobbys-not-that-small for the picture!

The day you died, started like every other day. You woke up to the sun peeking through your blinds and the smell of burned toast was lingering in the air. It was like every other day, until it wasn’t. Looking back, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint when everything went down the drain. But that was definitely before a relic man slashed your abdomen with a knife and before Lockwood pulled you through a gate to the other side.

Now you were stumbling behind Lockwood clutching your wound while warm blood was seeking through your fingers. This wasn’t how you would have imagined your first trip to the other side. But to be honest, nothing Lucy and Lockwood told you could have prepared you for this.

Stepping through the gate had felt like someone had emptied an ice bucket over your head. The cold pushed every breath out of your lungs, and it didn’t matter how close you pulled your spirit-cape around you, you would never feel warm again. It was so dark, that you had to concentrate to even see your own breath forming clouds in the air. All surfaces were covered by sheets of ice and even the blood dripping from your hands froze before it could hit the ground. However, this wasn’t the weirdest part about this twisted twin of the London you knew. Even the walls of buildings, all with signs of decay, which seemed to bend to you like a flower to the sun, weren’t the strangest thing this place had to offer. What really creeped you out was the silence. You grew up in London, a city which never really slept. The silence of the night was often interpreted by the sound of cars and the sirens of ambulances. But here, in this twisted mirror of the city you loved, reigned deadly silence. Only the crunch of the ice under your hurried steps and your ragged breath broke the silence that felt like a blanket over Dark London.

You didn’t know how long you were already staggering behind Lockwood, trying to keep up with his long-hurried steps. Time worked different here. This was no place for the living, and the time to make it out alive, was rapidly running through your fingers. Or to be clear, the time for Lockwood to make it out alive was slowly running out. You wouldn’t leave this place alive. You weren’t sure, when exactly you realized it. Was it the moment, the cold stopped bothering you and your breath became as cold as the lifeless air around you? Or was it the moment you finally caught up with Lockwood, feeling more energized than ever, while he was struggling with every step? This was no place for the living, and that you were adapting could only mean one thing. On the way through this twisted city, you had died. You would never return to the warm embrace of Portland Row, your home. But Lockwood was still alive, he could go back to your friends, to your home, live his life, do all the things, you now would never have the chance to do. You had lost everything; you wouldn’t allow the same happen to him. Late you would have all the time to mourn everything lost, now you had to urge him to the gate, without him turning around and seeing, that you weren’t longer with him.

In front of you, Lockwood stumbled out of exhaustion over his own feats and your hand shot out, to stop his fall. But before a catastrophe could happen, and you could ghost touch him, he caught himself. If you were still breathing, you would have let out a breath of relief. But you had stopped breathing some time ago, your skin was cold like ice and there was something missing, where previously your heart had given a rhythm.

“Just look ahead, and we will make it, I’m right behind you”, you weren’t sure, if he could still hear you. He wasn’t a Listener, and you were on your way to become a memory. But he did what he was told.

Keeping his eyes ahead, he dragged himself in the direction of the gate. You had no troubles to keep up.  If you had wanted to, you could have overtaken him. However, you were too afraid about what would happen if he would see you. So, you would guide him from your place, a few steps behind him, to safety.

On your way to the gate, Lockwood wanted to turn a few times, to check that you were still behind him. But every time, before he could fully turn and see you, you succeeded in coaxing him to just look ahead. However, everything had to end, your life and also your tour through the other side. You were only a few meters away from the gate, when Lockwood did exactly the thing, you had dreaded the whole journey. He took a look at you. His gaze flickered over you, taking in the frozen blood on your hands and your clothes, who were stained red, and you could see the exact moment he realized, what had happened. His face fell, and unconsciously he took a step towards you. You weren’t sure, who of you both looked worse, he, who looked like he walked through hell, or you, who was dead but finally at home. You were the first to find your voice.

“You have to go”, you whispered, both knowing, that he didn't have much time left. But desperate he shook his head.

“I can’t leave you here, I love you!”

If you were still breathing, that confession would have knocked out the air out of your lungs. But you were dead, and no CPR could ever bring you back. You loved him too, since the first time you met him, you loved him. And when you first met you knew that you would love him your entire life, who would have guessed, that your life would be so short? However, if you told him the truth, he wouldn’t leave you. He would stay by you; he would die by your side. Just the thought crushed your heart. Your eyes were burning, but no tears escaped.

“I’m sorry Anthony”, your voice wasn’t more than a whisper, but in this quiet place it felt like you were speaking in a microphone. “You are a great friend, but I don’t love you”, you lied smoothly and with every word leaving your lips your heart broke a bit until a pile of shards was everything that was left. However, the pain which flickered over his face, was the worst part. You never wanted to be the cause of his pain.

“You have to leave”, you reminded him a second time, and you were surprised how calm your voice sounded, while inside you everything was falling apart. You were falling apart.

“I’m sorry, if I had realized that you were hurt sooner, we could have turned back. I could have saved you.”

You both knew that you couldn’t have turned back. Going back through the gate you entered this twisted world, had never been an option. At this gate only waited the death for both of you.

“It’s not your fault. But please let me do, what you couldn’t do. Let me safe you.” Your gazes looked, and that eye contact said more than a thousand words ever could.

“Fine”, he breathed out. “I will always miss you, Portland Row, will never be the same without you.”

And you would always miss him. But you were sure, that in a few years, he would have moved on, while you would remain frozen in time. As he reached the gate, he looked a last time back at you, and you forced a pained smile on your lips.

“I lied, I love you too”, you whispered, as he stepped to the gate, forever vanishing from your sight.

8 Years later

A young woman was standing in the basement of Portland Row. She was dressed in a beautiful long white dressed, the veil had she taken off when they got home.

Now she was nervously turning the box made of silver-glass in her hands. Inside laid a ring, which once had adorned the finger of her best friend. But Lucy’s friend was dead, while Lucy was alive. Alive to marry the guy, she loved. Holding her breath, Lucy slowly opened the box. The ring inside was ice-cold, she could feel the joy and love the wearer had felt, when she was still alive. Lucy didn’t have to wait long. Not shortly after releasing the ring out of his jail, the ghostly figure of her best friend appeared. She emitted soft golden light, while she floated over the floor. Lucy knew that her friend wasn’t a Type 3 ghost, she couldn't hold a conversation. But she had to do it anyway.  

“I lied, I love you too”, whispered the ghost over and over again, forever frozen in time.   Lucy never had the heart to tell Lockwood what she was saying, and after some time Lockwood had taken the ring out of the box less and less often until he didn't do it at all anymore.

“Thank you for letting him go”, Lucy told the ghost of her best friend, even if she couldn’t understand, what Lucy was saying. “He is happy again, all thanks to you.”

If Lockwood had had his way eight years ago, Lucy would have lost both of her best friends.

“I will never forget you; we will never forget you!”

It was as if Lucy had spoken a magic word. Without having to put the ring back in the box, her best friend's ghost disappeared forever, finally at peace.

[smgsecretsanta]

A gift from @insertlovelyperson to @sargeantsarmy!!!!

Text under the cut

Title: Asleep or Dead

Rating: Explicit (for explicit sexual content)

Pairing: Dylan Lenivy/ Ryan Erzahler 

Tags: Hurt/comfort, Domestic fluff, Smut, 5+1

From: @insertlovelyperson To: @sargeantsarmy 

Summary: The five times Ryan has a nightmare after the events of Hackett’s Quarry, and the one time he doesn’t.

The nightmares weren’t always this bad. It varied. Most nights, Ryan could crawl into bed, fall asleep thirty minutes to an hour later, and remain dead to the world until morning. And most nights, his dreams were nothing more than abstract imaginings and bizarre happenings that he’d forget upon awakening.

Not tonight.

He by no means considered himself a lucid dreamer, lacking too much control in his dreamscape for that to be the case. But that didn’t mean he didn’t maintain some semblance of consciousness when it happened, especially when it was so familiar:

Ryan stood panting in exertion and fear at the center of the dining room, shotgun still smoking as he looked down at Chris Hackett’s mangled corpse. Staring at the man’s exposed ribcage and pulverized organs, his hands began to tremble at the realization of what he’d done. Of what he’d lost. The rest of the dead Hackett’s littered the room, corpses in various states of dismemberment. Jed with his head caved in, Bobby with his neck torn out, Constance with her face blown off, and Kaylee covered with a white sheet on the dining room table. And as Ryan took it all in with dawning horror—that this massacre had, in part, been his doing—he heard the sound of Laura’s ragged gasping in the corner behind him.

With a shuddering breath that made the wound in his side ache, he opened his mouth to ask, ‘What now?’ But when he turned to face her... she was gone, leaving a broken mirror and Travis Hackett’s torn open corpse in her absence. However, it was when he turned back around that things really started taking a turn...

Chris Hackett stood before him. Naked, chest torn open, covered in blood... and Ryan had never been looked at with so much visceral hatred in his life. All he could do was stare back at the man’s heart weakly thumping in his shattered rib cage, spitting out blood and shrapnel with each stuttering beat.

Chris only stared at him in return, condemning him without uttering a single word. And when he finally spoke, it wasn’t any kinder than his expression, “For her? I treated you like my own son—Caleb and Kaylee thought of you as their own fucking brother. And you sold us out. For her.” He took a shambling step forth, radiating vicious malice and intent.

And Ryan wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and beg for a forgiveness he wasn’t owed. I didn’t want to kill you, he would’ve sobbed. But I didn’t want to die either. Instead, he raised the gun again, aiming it directly at the man’s exposed heart as he felt his own begin to break.

Chris froze, head tilting in cold consideration as he assessed the situation. Face twisting in rage, he ignored the shotgun and advanced.

“Stop,” Ryan pleaded, fingers grazing the trigger, “Chris... please.”

But the man never wavered, cornering Ryan further and further until he felt his back press into the wall behind him. That was, until, he was actually forced to glance behind him, and it wasn’t the wall. It was Bobby Hackett. Head hanging onto his neck by a thread and wearing the same enraged expression as his brother.

A strangled, fearful noise tore its way from Ryan’s throat as he narrowly dodged the large man attempting to grapple onto him. It wasn’t until he backed himself against a wall—for sure this time—that he attempted to take stock of his deteriorating circumstances. But of course... that was the exact moment that things went from bad to worse. Chest huffing each breath as quick, painful bursts, he watched as the rest of the dead Hackett family rose to their feet, turning their sights on him and him alone.

Now knowing that the only thing his hesitation would accomplish was getting him killed, Ryan held the gun with firmer hands. Taking a deep breath, steeling himself, he aimed it at Chris and pulled the trigger.

CLICK. Blinking down in surprise, Ryan pulled the trigger again. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Nothing happened.

In the end, Kaylee was the first on him, crossing the room faster than he could react and pummeling him to the ground with the wild swing of her fists. Shotgun clattering uselessly across the floor, Ryan didn’t even have time to blink before the rest of the Hacketts followed. Constance and her exposed brain, Jed and his broken jaw, Travis and his clumps of missing flesh... they were on him in seconds. Ignoring his sobbed pleas as they snarled their venomous words, digging their fingers into his flesh and tearing him apart. And no matter how much he screamed and begged, they didn’t stop until they reached the bone.

Squeezing his eyes shut and thrashing hard enough to get a mangled arm away from them, Ryan swung at whoever was currently holding him by his shoulder.

Someone yelped in pain as a loud SMACK reverberated through the room, and when Ryan finally managed to pry his eyes open, he was lying in bed in the dark. Something quickly shuffled from next to him, and soon enough, he was wincing from the sudden burst of light flooding his vision.

Dylan stared back at him—stunned—hand still hovering over the switch of the lamp on his bedside table. Holding what remained of his left arm up to his face, Ryan could clearly make out the red welt from underneath the stub. Even without it, the context clues would’ve been enough to tell him everything he needed to know.

With dawning horror, all Ryan could do was stare in shock as he tried to get his breathing back under control.

“I-it’s ok,” his boyfriend said unconvincingly, bottom lip quivering as he tried not to cry, “it didn’t even hurt.”

And despite the rapid beating in his chest and the painful squeezing of his lungs, Ryan was already out of bed and sprinting to the bathroom. Grabbing the cleanest washrag he could find, he ran it under the cold water of the sink before rushing back.

Dylan was fully sat up in bed at this point, rubbing the soreness from his jaw and wiping away the few tears that’d managed to well up in his eyes. When he caught sight of Ryan holding the rag, probably looking as dejected and guilty as he felt... Dylan laughed. “You’ve got,” he drawled as he took the cool cloth, pressing it onto his cheek, “a hell of a right hook.”

At the foot of the bed, Ryan didn’t respond, spine stiff and unsure of how to proceed, because... oh, God. I hurt him. I hurt Dylan. And he couldn’t stop shaking upon the damning realization.

Brow furrowed in concern, Dylan set the rag aside. “Hey,” he coaxed, pushing himself off the bed, “it’s alright, you didn’t mean to.”

But that wasn’t good enough. It didn’t make what Ryan did any more forgivable. Not to him, at least. Honestly, it kind of made it worse. The fact that Ryan had lost control like that from a nightmare... he’d posed a danger without even trying, and that was perhaps what scared him the most.

Dylan didn’t see it like that. At all. Closing the remaining distance, he wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on the top of Ryan’s head.

And when Ryan could finally bring himself to relax into the embrace, he returned it in kind. Curling his arms around the other, he rested his head on his chest, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dylan whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the other’s forehead, “I think a big, red welt on my face was just what I needed to look a little more rugged.”

Ryan groaned, holding him even tighter.

Chuckling, Dylan took him by the arm and led them both back to bed. Settling down together beneath the sheets, they were already wriggling back into each other’s arms. Once they were more or less comfortable, Dylan finally asked, “Bad dream?”

To put it mildly. “Yeah,” Ryan breathed, chest still tight with lingering fear, “kinda.”

After a brief pause, the other carefully ventured, “Wanna talk about it?”

In all honesty... not really. It was bad enough experiencing it once, and the idea of any subsequent retellings was enough to make Ryan grimace. He burrowed his head further into his boyfriend’s chest to try and avoid the question.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dylan sighed, rubbing a soothing circle into the small of the other’s back, “but it might help.”

Despite the fact he knew he was right, Ryan still hesitated. And yet... Dylan didn’t mind. Not in the slightest. He was more than ready to stay up with the other all night if needed, and it only made Ryan feel worse. So, exhaling a weary sigh, “I was back in the Hackett’s mansion with Laura.”

Humming a quiet acknowledgment, Dylan didn’t interrupt. Giving him all the time he needed to say his piece.

“Laura was gone, and the Hackett’s had... reanimated?”  Yeah. He supposed that was the word for it, “It was right after I killed Chris. He just stood up and kept telling me how it was all my fault that he died. That they all died.”

Shoulders tensing and lips pressed into a thin line, Dylan only held him tighter.

“My gun wouldn’t fire, and then I think they ate me? I don’t know. The ending was kind of vague,” Ryan finished, fully relaxing in the other’s hold. The admission had lifted a burden he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying. And it was... nice. It was always nice.

“It wasn’t your fault, for the record,” Dylan murmured, sentence tapering off with a long yawn, “just in case the zombies forgot to mention it.”

Ryan appreciated the gesture, but he already knew that. It had been a long, painful road to understanding, but he’d ultimately reached it with the help of friends, family, and therapy. It had also been two years, so if he hadn’t known that by now, he probably never would. But still... the reminder had been kind—Dylan had been kind. Which was the exact reason he’d felt so fucking guilty right now... “Sorry for keeping you up.”

Feeling the way the young man’s chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, it was no surprise when he shifted his weight, face hovering inches above Ryan's. “You’re silly...” he muttered, leaning down to give him a kiss on the lips. It was sweet, and gentle, and it ended a lot sooner than maybe Ryan would’ve liked. Smiling, Dylan asked, “Need me to leave the light on for tonight?”

“No,” Ryan shook his head, face flushed, “I think I’m good.”

Pulling away to switch off the lamp, Dylan returned as quickly as he’d left, bringing his body heat with him. Ryan grabbed him, pulling him flush against his body and stealing his warmth.

“You gonna be ok?” Dylan yawned again, absentmindedly playing with Ryan’s hair.

“Yeah,” Ryan replied, smile hidden by the darkness of the room, “I think I will be.”

All fell silent save for the room’s overhead fan and their own breathing. And as the two held each other beneath the sheets—shielding the other with their arms—it wasn’t long until Ryan felt safe enough to close his eyes, peacefully drifting off to sleep.

The weight next to him shifted uncomfortably. Then, voice apologetic and whispering, “... I think I have to pee, actually.”

Groaning, Ryan rolled over to let Dylan up.

The next time it happened, Dylan had found him in the kitchen. Scrambling eggs. At four in the morning. Ryan had been looming over the stovetop, watching the eggs slowly burn as he tried to will the lingering tremors from his hands. That’s when he heard the telltale sound of the joints in someone’s feet popping as they walked across the kitchen tile. And as he felt an arm snake around his waist, sliding a hand under the front of his shirt and brushing across his abdomen... he instinctually relaxed into the embrace.

“Whatcha doing?” Dylan murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his stomach.

The shaking in his hands still refusing to subside, Ryan released a shuddering breath: “Eggs.”

Humming an acknowledgment, Dylan rested his head on his shoulder, peeking over to take a look. The ‘eggs’ in question were just one big mass in the center of the skillet, edges scorched black. Snorting at the sight, he surmised, “I think they’re done.”

Managing a stiff nod, and a quick, “Mhm,” Ryan turned his attention back to the eggs he was getting ready to send through the nine circles of hell.

Eyes flickering between his boyfriend and the skillet, Dylan extracted his hand from his shirt, flicking off the stove stop. He used that same hand to gently take the one Ryan was using to hold the spatula, steadying the trembling before lowering the utensil to the counter. “I’m gonna brew us some coffee,” he said, moving his grip to Ryan’s waist as he gently guided him toward their living room, “why don’t you lay down for a bit, yeah?”

Ryan didn’t have it in him to argue. With a weary sigh, he shuffled over to the couch, plopping down as he tried to shake the enduring stress from his dream:

Like most of his nightmares, it’d been about that night. He’d been in the woods with Laura and Travis in search of Silas. They found the wolf-boy in the burnt remains of Harum Scarum, trembling from his injuries within the ruined cage. He was hurt, and defenseless... and Ryan had no desire to kill him. But that wasn’t his choice; it was Laura’s. However, that didn’t stop him from voicing his opinion: “Are we sure about this?” But unlike the night when it’d happened, she had actually stopped to listen, completely ignoring Travis who had argued the contrary... and she really shouldn’t have. Silas was on them in seconds, decapitating Travis and Laura as Ryan watched. Then, the white wolf was on him too, ripping his jaw from his face before sinking its teeth into the rest of him.

The new weight sinking onto the couch took Ryan’s mind off of those thoughts, and he mumbled a quiet—but earnest—‘thanks’ as a warm mug of coffee was pressed into his hands.

Concern flooding his eyes and lips pulled into a hesitant, placating smile, Dylan asked, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Taking a long sip as he ignored the way it scalded his tongue, Ryan eventually replied, “Yeah.”

Expression grim but knowing, “Nightmare?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I was back in the woods with Silas. Laura didn’t shoot, and it was... bad.” And while the retelling had been brief, leaving out plenty of details... it had been enough. Dylan already knew the bits and pieces of what happened when Ryan had run off with Laura, just like Ryan knew the bits and pieces of what happened when Dylan ran off with Kaitlyn. Maybe they didn’t know all of it, but they knew the important parts, and that would always be enough.

Another weight jumped up on the couch next to Ryan, nuzzling its wet nose into his arm. Lifting his hand, he placed it on top of the cat’s head, giving it a good scritch. Schrödinger trilled, happily making biscuits on his leg before finally settling down, head resting on his thigh.

Watching the exchange with a grin, Dylan grabbed the remote. Flicking on the television, he cycled through channels until he got to some old reruns of a cartoon the both of them watched when they were younger.

“What time do you have class?” Ryan asked, guilt already beginning to eat away at him. Dylan had to wake up early enough as is. He didn’t need Ryan making it worse.

“Four... maybe five hours,” Dylan said, stretching his arms over his head until he heard his shoulders pop, “think I’m gonna go ahead and jump in the shower. See if I can wake myself up a bit.”

There it was again. That guilt panging in Ryan’s chest. “You can go back to bed if you want,” he said, trying and failing to soothe that dull aching in his chest, “don’t let me keep you up.”

Face softening, Dylan shook his head, “Nah, I need to stay up anyways. Fucked up my sleep schedule with a couple late-nighters—this’ll help me get back on track.”

Unconvinced, Ryan drawled, “If you’re sure...”

Wrapping an arm around his boyfriend and drawing him close, Dylan smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple: “I am.” Rising from the sofa, he leaned over Ryan to scratch his cat’s chin, “you good keeping an eye on him, Schrödie?”

The cat only purred, shifting its head to receive more pets.

With that, Dylan headed for the bathroom. But before he reached the door, he took a detour to the kitchen, leaning over the counter, preoccupied with... something.

“What’re you doing?” Ryan asked, craning his neck to get a better look.

“Hm? Oh,” something clattered against the counter as Dylan attempted to look innocent. It didn’t work. “Just checking something on my phone.”

Ryan was willing to let it slide. After all: he trusted him. Leaning back on the couch and watching the other disappear through the door, he gave the cat a good few pets as he half-heartedly tried to watch the television. He was only partially paying attention to the cartoon before his phone vibrated in the pocket of his sweatpants. Fishing it out of the pant leg, he saw that he had three unread text messages, and they were all from Laura:

‘still alive’

‘lol’

‘wanna talk about it?’

Ryan stared at his phone trying to mentally process what he was reading. When he finally did, it was like a lightbulb had gone off. Sighing, he texted back:

‘You’re up early. What did Dylan send you?’

A few seconds later, she sent him a screenshot of a text conversation with Dylan’s name as the sender:

‘are you up? can you text ryan and tell him you’re alive? bad dream’

Turning his head to look at the bathroom, Ryan could hear the water of the shower hitting the tile as Dylan bathed. He was starting to understand what that little detour was about... shaking his head:

‘I’m fine, thanks. Everything alright with you?’

Laura’s reply was near instantaneous, firing off four more messages in rapid succession:

‘yep’

‘bad dream too lol’

‘up with max rn everythings good’

‘you guys still on for bowling friday?’

Mouth pressed into a thin line, Ryan couldn’t help but worry about the first part of that message. Disregarding that, however, he texted back:

‘We should be. I’ll double check with Dylan.’

‘You can call me if you ever need to talk too. You know that, right?’

Because Ryan knew he wasn’t special. He knew he wasn’t the only one plagued by nightmares of that night. And perhaps there was comfort to be found in knowing that he wasn’t the only one, but mostly... he hated knowing that all of them still suffered. After a minute or so, Laura sent another message:

┏( ゜)ਊ゜)┛

Brow furrowing as he stared at his screen, Ryan eventually texted back:

‘... how the fuck did you type that?’

But Laura never responded. It felt rather smug. Rolling his eyes, Ryan cast his phone aside on the couch, turning his attention back to the TV. Schrödinger was fast asleep at his side, having readjusted herself to lay on a nearby pillow rather than his thigh, and he was only mildly offended.

The door to the bathroom opened, steam billowing out. Walking out was Dylan, wearing nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist. Leaning against the open door frame and trying to sound seductive... “Come here often, handsome?”

“Hm,” Ryan hummed, taking another sip of his coffee, “Laura texted.”

“Oh,” the other said, spine straightening. Eyes shifting between his boyfriend and the phone on the couch, “what’d she want?”

Ryan just looked at him. Unimpressed.

Sighing, Dylan crossed their living room before plopping down next to him, looking guilty, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just thought you might wanna talk to her after everything. I know we all technically survived the same thing, but you two actually survived the same thing. And your dream was about her, so...”

Now that he thought about it... Ryan’s mind was a little more at ease after their conversation. “I’m not mad,” he said, shifting to be closer to the other, “thanks. For texting her, I mean. I probably wouldn’t have talked to her if you hadn’t.”

Brow pinching and head tilting in confusion, Dylan ventured, “Why not?”

Feeling adequately pinned under the other’s sharpened gaze, all Ryan could do was shrug as he tried to explain, “I don’t like bothering people with my problems.”

Stricken by the admission, Dylan gave a sad shake off his head, “You’re not ‘bothering’ anyone by asking for help when you need it. And I know you wouldn’t think anyone was bothering you if they reached out if they were struggling,” lips down turned into a frown, “I wish you’d be kinder to yourself, sometimes.”

Exhaling a tired breath, Ryan couldn’t help but hang his head in shame, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Eyes softening and no longer frowning, Dylan spoke, “Don’t apologize, just... something to think about, is all.” Giving the other a pat on the shoulder, “Alright, I’m gonna go get dressed. Take in the gun show while you still can,” standing in front of the couch, he struck a dramatic pose.

Chuckling, Ryan watched him head for their bedroom. But before he could disappear through the door, he remembered to ask, “We still going bowling with Laura and Max Friday night?”

“Yep! We’re trying the old one downtown; Emma says the drinks at concessions will fuck you up for under five dollars. You’ll be bowling in the wrong lane,” he laughed, popping his head out of the doorway, “and don’t worry! I called ahead and made sure they had bumpers rails for you.”

Bristling, Ryan grumbled, “That was one time.”

“And you still came in last.”

“Because Laura was cheating.”

“You both had the bumpers up.”

“She used the bowling ramp!”

“You did too! You just stopped because you got embarrassed after you still missed the pins with it.”

Groaning, Ryan was already rethinking the venue for date night. Laura was one of—if not the most—competitive person he’d ever met, and ever since they’d started doing double dates at the bowling alley after getting banned from the miniature golf course (for life), she’d rubbed off on him. Every time without fail, it devolved into smack talk and harsh digs as they tried to get the other to flub their shot. And the worst part was... they both sucked! Neither of them were good at bowling—they were lucky if they even broke into the triple digits! The only thing they were competing for was third place; Dylan and Max—without fail—always had at least a hundred points on them. Max had literally been captain of his high school bowling team, and Dylan was just... Dylan.

“Hey,” Dylan whispered from the doorway, just loud enough to get Ryan’s attention.

Turning his head, he raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Yeah?”

“Wanna...” Dylan began, shiftily eyeing something in their bedroom, “do stuff?” The bed. He was eyeing the bed.

It took a moment for Ryan to process the request. But when he did, all he could do was stare in incredulity: “At 4:36 in the morning?”

Dylan shrugged, wearing an expression that radiated false innocence and sullied intentions. “4:37, actually. But suit yourself,” he singsonged, ducking back into their bedroom. But after a long pause—just when Ryan thought that was that—he called out once more, “oh, wait... what’s this? Oh. Oh. Oh nooo, my towel—it’s... it’s slipping! What a disaster! I hope no one comes in and capitalizes on this opportunity while I’m naked and unaware!”

Huffing a breathy chuckle, Ryan rolled his eyes and rose to his feet, heading for the bedroom. 

This time, Dylan had been waiting for him in the kitchen. Sitting at the table, he had his mug of coffee already brewed with another mug placed directly across from him. Upon catching a glimpse of Ryan lingering hesitantly in the doorway, he beckoned him over with a gentle wave of his hand.

Ryan obliged, crossing the distance to take the seat across from him. Taking the cup of coffee so thoughtfully prepared for him, he held it firmly in his hands as if it were a lifeline. He’d had another dream, and he was still trying to shake the effects of it with little success. His efforts hadn’t been helped by the empty bed upon his awakening, but seeing the reason as to why that might’ve been the case... Ryan was grateful.

Unlike his usual dreamscape, this nightmare hadn’t taken place at Hackett’s Quarry. No. It had taken center-stage in his parent’s living room... the day his dad had died. He’d been on the couch with his sister watching an old movie he couldn’t even remember the name of when they’d gotten the knock on the door. His mother had answered only to be greeted by two police officers. Ryan hadn’t heard what they said, but he remembered the sound of his mother’s wails as she collapsed to the floor, begging for them to stop lying to her. To tell her the fucking truth.

It had been a hit and run. A drunk driver that they had later found miles down the road, throwing up in a ditch after crashing his car into a tree; his dad’s blood still painting the crumpled grill. The man would later be tried and convicted of felony DUI and sentenced to prison for fifteen years. But despite that, it never felt like justice. Ryan’s dad was dead, and no amount of prison time would ever bring him back.

The funeral had been just as awful as he’d remembered. Just droves of people who’d known their family offering hollow condolences and empty prayers. Like it’d do anything. Forced to go through the motions, nothing that day had felt real to Ryan. Not until they lowered the casket into the ground, and he said his final goodbyes. The next day he’d woken up, his mom was gone. Just... picked up and left without saying a word to him, his sister, or anybody. Fortunately, Ryan had known how to dial his grandma’s phone number.

With this dream, he hadn’t woken up screaming, or thrashing, or even crying. This time, he’d simply awoke to that unbearable aching in his chest he’d failed time and time again to be completely rid of. Because even ten years later, it still managed to return in the quiet moments of the night, burrowing into the cavity of his chest like it were home.

He didn’t notice Dylan approaching him until the man was at his side, wrapping an arm around him, gently drawing his head against the softness of his stomach. Holding him. “Heard you mumbling in your sleep,” he said, “didn’t know if I should wake you.”

And given what happened the last time he tried... that was fair.

“Bad dream?” Though, it sounded like Dylan already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Ryan sighed, still leaning into the touch. Taking solace in it.

Humming a quiet acknowledgement, Dylan then asked, “Anything I can do?”

You do enough already. “I’ll be fine,” he shook his head before pulling away to say, “I think I’m gonna drop by my grandparent's house later today. Maybe take Sarah to lunch. It’s been a while.”

“Oh, sweet! Can I come?” Dylan said before almost immediately thinking better of it. Expression turning meek as he continued, “I mean... unless you just wanted it to be a family thing. I totally get that. Don’t feel pressured—”

Rising from his seat, Ryan placed a quick kiss on the other’s cheek, having to stand on his toes to do so. “Of course you can come,” he said, meaning it.

And as Dylan smiled back at him, that ache in Ryan’s chest finally began to dull.

Dylan had been out late taking a final. He hadn’t come home immediately after, instead, going out for drinks with Nick and Jacob in celebration of the semester’s conclusion. Ryan had been extended an invitation too, of course, but it was declined in favor of finishing up some last minute commissions...and he was seriously rethinking that decision. He must’ve fallen asleep while animating, because upon his near violent awakening, he’d almost launched his tablet clean off his desk—laptop included.

He'd been back in the radio hut. The wire to the PA system had been pulled by the white wolf—by Silas. Dylan, of course, had been the one to try and fix it... and it ended badly. Very, very badly. Silas had clamped down on his hand in an instant, dangling him from the ceiling as his teeth sliced through tendons and pierced the bone. When Silas had finally released him, Dylan fell and hit the ground. Hard. And the screams—oh, God—the fucking screams. Ryan knew they’d haunt him for the rest of his life. “It’s spreading, you have to cut it off!” He still remembered how heavy the chainsaw had felt in his hands. How Dylan’s wrist had felt pinned under his foot. How the teeth had caught on bone, sawing through his arm as it cleaved the limb in twain. He remembered how it felt because it wasn’t just a nightmare.

It was real.

Dylan hadn’t been there to talk him through the aftermath like he usually was, but... maybe that was for the best. This wasn’t the first time he’d had that particular dream, and sometimes, seeing the source of that specific pain didn’t always help. But fuck it. Ryan couldn’t help it—he wanted Dylan. He wanted his boyfriend there with him no matter how selfish it might’ve been. But as he clutched his phone in a vice grip, one text message away from getting what he needed, he just... couldn’t. Dylan had been working so fucking hard recently, and he deserved a night to himself. Ryan refused to be the one to ruin that. So, that’s how he remained. Hunched over, clutching his phone as he trembled in his desk chair, waiting for Dylan to get home.

It could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been hours, but eventually, that familiar jingle of a keyring sounded from the other side of their apartment. And soon enough, the door was swinging open as someone drunkenly tripped on their way inside, giggling to themself as they locked it behind them. “Honey, I’m home!” Dylan slurred, and Ryan could hear him struggling to take his shoes off. Stumbling further into their apartment, heading for the bedroom, “God, Ryan, you should’ve been there. Jacob was shooting the shit with this girl at the bar thinking he was about to get her number, and then this seven foot, jacked looking dude comes running over, and it’s her boyfriend! You could see it on his face the exact moment his asshole retracted into his spine—"and as he finally rounded the corner into their room, he froze at the sight; face dropping and noticeably sobering, “... Ryan?”

Sucking in another sharp breath, Ryan held up a shaky hand in the barest display of acknowledgement. Curling in on himself and still unable to look at the other, he just focused on breathing with his hands planted firmly on his knees. And it was working out just fine until the figure in front of him approached, kneeling down to force himself into his line of sight.

“Hey,” Dylan tried, speaking at a tone one might reserve for a wounded animal, “what’s wrong?” His eyes were blurry and unfocused, like someone who was very drunk but trying not to be.

Full body shuddering with his next breath, Ryan barely managed a reply, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” But it wasn’t nothing. It had happened. He had done it, and Dylan would have to live the rest of his life with it. And he didn’t even need to; Laura killed Silas, curing the remaining infected. And it would’ve cured Dylan too, rendering what they’d done completely pointless in the end.

Dylan scoffed in a way that made Ryan flinch, “‘Don’t worry,’ he says—unbelievable...” pulling the other up from his chair, he led him to the bed where he plopped the both of them down, expression hardening as he tried once more, “what’s wrong?”

And no matter how much he may have wanted to fight it, Ryan relented near instantaneously: “Bad dream.”

His face softened as his expression became nothing but understanding, and without a moment to lose, Dylan was pulling the other into a crushing hug. And as he nuzzled his face into his boyfriend’s, Ryan wondered how much of it was due to the effects of alcohol.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, sounding impossibly sad, “I wish I could stop them from happening but I can’t. But I want to so fucking bad—fuck, Ryan...”

Returning the hug as he rested his head on the other’s shoulder, Ryan said, “I know. It’s ok.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” came Ryan’s near instant reply, as was often the case with this particular dream. Perhaps that’s what gave him away so easily...

Even in his drunken state, Dylan clocked it immediately: “Oh... was it another one about the hand thing?”

“Yeah, Dylan,” Ryan gave a bitter scoff, pulling away from the other’s embrace as a discrete form of self-flagellation, “it was about the ‘hand thing.’” And although the two only sat inches apart, that simple act alone had the space feeling like miles.

Lips pulling into a frown and brown eyes welling up in sorrow, Dylan shook his head. Then, so quiet Ryan almost missed it, “I’ve never held that against you... you know that, right? I’ve never blamed you.”

And Ryan had no clue why he struggled so much with that simple truth: “How?”

“Because I asked you to,” Dylan said like it was the easiest thing in the world, “and if you hadn’t, I might’ve turned and hurt someone. And I think that would’ve been a lot harder to live with than missing some dumb hand.”

... he didn’t know how he did it. How Dylan always seemed to make things better with a few words and an easy smile. But he did. And it always felt so fucking undeserved. Hanging his head in shame, Ryan couldn’t bring himself to meet the worried eyes boring at him. Seeing him for what he was, which was terrified. Of that night. Of himself. Of losing someone he cared about more than anything else.

“Ryan,” Dylan tried, placing a hand on his shoulder, “please look at me?”

And how could he say no to that? Sighing, he lifted his gaze to meet the other man.

“I love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I’d give a million hands just to be with you like this for the rest of my life,” Dylan said, pausing to consider the logistics of that specific sentiment, “or a toe. And a couple of fingers. Possibly a kidney.”

Laughing, Ryan shook his head as he wiped at his damp eyes, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed, smiling ear to ear, “but you like it.”

More than ‘like,’ actually. Returning the smile with one of his own, Ryan pulled him close and kissed him. Immediately after, he pulled away and gagged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “What the fuck—why do you taste like that?”

Face guilty, Dylan quietly admitted, “I threw up in the bushes before I came inside.”

For the next ten minutes, their apartment was filled with the sound of Ryan’s retching and Dylan’s drunk (but earnest) apologies.

Ryan had made the critical error of trying to take a nap in the middle of the day. He’d stayed up late finishing an animation before an approaching deadline, and while it’d been a success, it came at the cost of his sleep schedule. He ended up crashing on the couch around noon, trying to get some sleep before he and Dylan met up with Kaitlyn for an early dinner.

And he really should’ve known better.

It had been right after Ryan and Laura had made it back to the lodge after killing Silas. The sun had risen, and the nightmare of that night had finally concluded. Ascending the lodge’s stairs, he had fully expected to be greeted by both Dylan and Kaitlyn with his arrival. But upon his entrance, the two were nowhere in sight. The lodge was completely empty save for the chunks of stone beneath the ruined fireplace, and the claw marks and blood stains that led directly to the kitchen.

Upon entry, the first thing he became abundantly aware of was the blood coating the floor and walls. Like something had been smashed against the kitchen tile before flung against the drywall. Following the trajectory of the spatters, he found Kaitlyn. Body broken, eyes glazed over, and limbs pointing in the wrong directions. Dead.

Frozen in place as dread and grief churned his gut, the only thing keeping Ryan from fleeing the room—fleeing from the sight and the reality that accompanied it—was nothing more than morbid curiosity. Because based on the wet crunching of bone tearing through muscle echoing on the other side of the kitchen, he wasn’t alone, and he felt obligated to find out why. Steeling himself as he rounded the counter by the freezer, the sight that greeted him was horrific:

A gangly, bloody beast was crouched over another corpse, teeth sinking into flesh as it devoured the deceased. With each violent tear of muscle and sinew, the body jerked limply along with the maw of the creature. It wasn’t until Ryan was practically hovering over the gruesome scene that he could decipher the identity of the body: it was Dylan. And based on the rasping, gargled breath that came next...

 He wasn’t dead yet.

“R-Ryan...” he rasped, eyes blown wide in terror as the beast jerked his head to the side, ripping open his neck, “end it... it hurts so much... p-please, kill me...” his desperate pleas tapering off into an agonizing scream as the wolf ripped ligament from bone.

No... it’s over. It’s supposed to be fucking over. Gun in hand as his mind finally processed what was happening, Ryan lifted the gun and fired a slug into the beast’s hide. Unflinching, it didn’t react as it continued to devour Dylan alive. Ignoring his blatant failure, he proceeded to try and blow three more holes into the wolf. But still... nothing happened. Desperation and terror becoming all-consuming, he even attempted to beat it back with the butt of his shotgun. But to no avail.

“T-that won’t... that won’t work...” Dylan sobbed, the pain becoming unbearable, “Ryan—please!”

With dawning horror, Ryan realized... he was right. He couldn’t save him; he could only kill him quicker. And it made him wonder how something like mercy could be so cruel. With shaking hands and a lurching gut, he raised the gun and took aim. Pulling the trigger, he watched Dylan’s body jerk one final time before stilling. Finally dead.

The wolf remained, feasting upon the warm corpse without pause. To it, nothing had changed. Alive or dead, it didn’t matter. It was always going to devour the boy, one way or the other. Ryan had just made it easier. Because in the end, nothing he did had mattered. Numb acceptance washing over him, he didn’t falter in raising the barrel to himself, fingers shaking around the trigger.

“Ryan!”

He startled awake, hands instinctively flinging out in front of him. His flailing arms were blocked by someone anticipating the blow, and when he opened his eyes, he was met with none other than Dylan. Scared. Worried. Alive.

Gradually releasing his grip on the other’s arm, Dylan tentatively began to ask, “Hey... are you ok—”

Curling two fists into the front of his boyfriend’s shirt, Ryan pulled him close like he was the last thing tethering him to Earth. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

But he didn’t have to. The initial shock having subsided, Dylan wrapped his arms around him to hold him. It was gentle, and grounding, and soon enough, Ryan found his breath leveling and his heartbeat steadying. Sinking further into the embrace, he somehow managed to pull the other even closer.

“It’s been a while—since the last one, I mean,” Dylan said, rubbing circles into his spine like he always did, “let me know when you’re ready to talk about it.”

Shaking his head, Ryan muttered, “I don’t want to talk about this one.”

“That’s fine too.”

With a deep breath, Ryan pulled away feeling rather silly. Because it was just a dream. It was always just a fucking dream. Didn’t make it feel any less real, though. That was the problem. That had been the problem for nearly three years now, and it wasn’t getting any better, “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep going to sleep not knowing what’s waiting for me.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dylan said, earnest and honest, “we always do.”

Grabbing his phone and checking the time, Ryan couldn’t help but groan. Even after all of that, he’d only managed to snag thirty minutes of sleep. And he felt it. He was no less exhausted than he was when he’d chosen to lay down, and it pissed him off to no end: “I’m so fucking tired...”

Leaning over to press a chaste kiss to his forehead, Dylan walked toward the kitchen, “I’m gonna make you some tea. And google some things. And maybe call that therapist Abi was telling us about.”

“Yeah,” Ryan quietly conceded, knowing that Dylan would not be persuaded out of taking care of him, “ok.” Because it’s not like he was against seeking therapy—he’d done so in the past immediately after the group’s acquittal. But it was just time consuming. And expensive. And he couldn’t help but feel like every moment not spent on pretending that that night had never happened in the first place was a waste of time and energy... and that probably wasn’t the best way to go thinking about things.

“Hey,” Dylan called, switching on the electric kettle, “want me to reschedule with Kaitlyn?” He busied himself with topping off Schrödinger’s water bowl while he waited for it to come to a boil.

That’d only make me feel worse. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“Ryan,” the other said, face remaining impassive “you’re exhausted, and I could use the rest too. Don’t worry about it.”

“But...” Ryan really didn’t feel like making this more of an inconvenience than it already was. And he especially didn’t want to drag Kaitlyn into it.

Perhaps sensing the trepidation, Dylan gave a careful nod before saying, “How about this: I call Kaitlyn and tell her to invite Abi and Emma, so if we can’t make it, her night isn’t ruined. I mean... other than missing out on our tantalizing company, of course. But she’ll live. Probably. Assuming she doesn’t die of sadness.”

“Alright,” Ryan scoffed, rising from the sofa to meet the other in the kitchen.

Dylan was already in the process of steeping the tea, handing over the cup upon his approach, “Make sure to give that three minutes.”

Grunting his acknowledgment, Ryan stalked back to the couch, pulling Dylan along by the sleeve. Making themselves comfortable, they drank their tea as Dylan scrolled through his phone, looking up the contact Abi had given him. Then, he made the call.

After each of them finished their drinks, Ryan washed the cups out in the sink before joining Dylan back in the bedroom. Settling into bed together, Ryan finally felt safe enough to give that nap a second try. Head resting on the other’s chest, he let himself drift peacefully off to sleep...

A phone alarm went off, and Ryan winced as he searched blindly for the device. Fingers finally brushing against the cool surface of the screen, he hit snooze as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room. “Shit,” he muttered as he checked the time, audibly groaning when he realized he’d slept for five hours. Well. There go our plans with Kaitlyn. Shifting to sit up, he became increasingly aware of the fact that he was now alone in bed, Dylan nowhere to be found. Pushing himself off the mattress, Ryan crossed the room to the door. Creaking it open, he was instantly hit with the smell of freshly popped popcorn.

“Oh, hey,” Dylan said at the sight of him, shifting awkwardly from side to side in the kitchen, “what’s up?”

Ryan’s brow instinctually furrowed, “What’re you plotting?”

“Who? Me? Pshhh...” Dylan gave a dismissive wave of his hand that Ryan didn’t trust for a second. But before he could call him on it, there was a knock at the door. The two men stared at each other—one astonished, the other decidedly not. Giving a silent nod in the direction of the noise, Dylan beckoned the other to open it.

Sighing, Ryan obliged. Clasping a hand over the knob and turning, the sight that greeted him on the other side left him stunned:

Abi, Emma, and Kaitlyn stood before him in their pajamas, arms filled with various snack foods. Looking him over with an inquisitive expression, Emma was the first to speak, “Do you usually answer the door in your boxers?”

Glancing down, it would appear the young woman was correct. “No, I—” Ryan stammered, face flushing. But realizing he had very little to say in his defense, he muttered a quiet, “sorry...” as he opened the door the rest of the way, allowing them to enter.

Laughing at his state of undress, the girls chattered amongst themselves, greeting Dylan as they entered the apartment.

“Geez, did you forget to tell him we’re coming?” he heard Kaitlyn say, presumably to the one overseeing the snacks in the kitchen.

“... maybe.”

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Ryan closed the door behind the girls.

“Oh, make sure to leave that unlocked,” Abi said, “Nick and Jacob will be up in a little bit. They’re just getting the sleeping bags from the car.

Sleeping... bags?

He cast a questioning look at Dylan as the women got themselves situated in their living room. The man only shrugged in response, throwing another bag of popcorn in the microwave. Not wanting to literally be caught with his pants down by any more new arrivals, Ryan went back to the bedroom to get dressed.

Upon his return, the girls were sprawled across the floor, unrolling the aforementioned sleeping bags. Nick and Jacob were now in the kitchen, unpacking the bags of junk food they’d brought.

“Laura just texted,” Kaitlyn called, scrolling through her phone, “her and Max got stuck in traffic. They said to start without them.”

“Oh, sweet,” Jacob said before rummaging through his backpack, “so for movies, I got: The Fast and the Furious, 2 Fast 2 Furious, Fast and Furious, Fast Five—”

Nick was the first to interrupt, “Is it all just Fast and Furious?”

Nodding, “And Die Hard.”

A chorus of ‘Die Hard’s filled the apartment as everyone casted their vote, and Jacob fished the DVD from his bag, walking it over to the living room to set up. Nick soon followed, carrying a couple of bowls of popcorn with him. That just left Dylan and Ryan together in the kitchen. Alone.

Leaning in close, Dylan whispered, “Thought it might be nice to get everyone together for a night. Sorry—I meant to wake you up and tell you, but you were out cold.”

Glancing down at his arms, the outlines of their sheets indented into Ryan’s skin concurred. “I’m not mad,” Ryan said back, “just surprised. It’s... nice. Having everyone here. It’s been a while. How’d you get them on short notice?”

“The stars just aligned, I guess,” he shrugged, “Kaitlyn was getting lunch with Jacob when I called her. Everything just came together from there.”

“Hey—hurry up!” Emma called to them from the couch, “We’re starting without you!”

Waving her off, Ryan grabbed a handful of snacks from the assortment on the counter. Sliding onto the couch, he relaxed in his seat as Dylan took his place at his side. Ryan wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

The group ended up sitting in front of the TV for hours, slowly working their way through the first four ‘Die Hard’ movies (Laura and Max finally showing up halfway through the first), exchanging laughter and commentary as they went. Somewhere amidst the forth, Ryan felt his eyes growing heavier and heavier. And as he peered around the room, finding that he was the last one awake, he knew it likely wouldn’t be much longer until he succumbed to the same fate. But that was ok. Because even if he didn’t know what was waiting for him when he fell asleep, he knew who’d be there when he awoke.

Leaning against Dylan, Ryan closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Ryan still suffered from the occasional nightmare, but it was nowhere near as bad or frequent as it used to be. He ended up going to that therapist, and while it wasn’t an immediate fix (he hadn’t expected it to be), it had helped. Matter of fact, he’d been sleeping better than he had for three years. That was, until, tonight...

Ryan awoke to a loud metallic BANG and the sound of someone groaning. Shooting up, he looked around the dark room in a daze, instinctually grabbing for the person in bed next to him. Only... when he reached out, he came back with nothing. Ryan was alone, and Dylan was nowhere to be found.

The curtains on the window puffed inward as a particularly cold gust of winter air blew through the open pane. Confused but curious, Ryan carefully pushed himself out of bed, stalking closer to investigate.

Peering over the windowsill, a figure lay motionless in a heap on the iced-over fire escape. Frozen in shock, it took a few seconds for Ryan’s brain to fully process what he was seeing. But when it did, he was already leaning over and exclaiming, “Dylan?”

Dylan didn’t utter a word. He just gave a stiff, silent thumbs up as he lay face down in the snow that had accumulated on the metal grating. Defeated.

Sighing, Ryan stepped through the window, wincing as his bare feet touched the freezing metal. Bending over, he peeled his boyfriend off the platform.

“J-just needed...” the other gasped, allowing himself to be guided back inside, “just needed some air...”

Plopping him down on the edge of the bed before flicking on the bedside lamp, Ryan sat down next to him and asked, “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Dylan muttered, “just wet. And cold.” He was pale, and shaking, and Ryan was unsure how much of that was actually from the snow.

Brow furrowing, “Why were you out there? It’s still dark. You could’ve seriously hurt yourself—or worse.”

Giving a rueful shake of his head, Dylan rose from the bed as he peeled himself out of his wet shirt, “Like I said: just needed some air.” If he was trying to be convincing, he was failing. With his back turned, he stiffly began to remove his soaked-through pants before rummaging through their dresser.

Frowning, Ryan approached him from behind. Wrapping his arms around his middle, resting his head on his shoulder, “You’re freezing,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down the man’s sides to try and warm him up.

Shivering under the touch, Dylan instinctually relaxed into the embrace. Releasing a sigh of content, he leaned back into Ryan’s warmth, “Just had a bad dream. That’s why I needed the air. Don’t worry about it.”

And that gave Ryan pause, hands stilling as he considered this carefully. It’d been a while since Dylan suffered from a nightmare, but that didn’t mean it never happened. Clearly. Tightening his hold on the other in an effort to ground him if he needed it, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Based on the way he tensed from the question, Ryan could probably guess what the answer would be. But always one to subvert expectations... “It was back at the lodge when Caleb attacked us. Kaitlyn wasn’t fast enough shooting him this time. She... well. You could probably guess what happened,” taking another shuddering breath, Dylan continued, “I was alone after that, and you didn’t come back. No one did. It was just me. I was the only one that made it to morning... I thought dying would be the worst thing that could’ve happened to me that night,” he eventually admitted, sounding exhausted, “now, I’m not so sure.”

Ryan understood the feeling. The one that told you that even if everyone had survived, there had been a very real possibility that they wouldn’t. And the only thing that separated you from that reality was the luck of being born into this one. But even if Ryan understood it, that didn’t mean he had an answer for it. Despite that, he pulled Dylan closer, whispering, “I did come back. We all did. No matter how bad the nightmares get, they can’t take that away from you.”

A long stretch of silence filled the air as something settled between them. Comprehension? Understanding? Maybe it was just simple acceptance of the fact that they’d survived, and nightmares alone would never have the power to change that.

“You’re warm...” Dylan murmured in a tone that lit a fire in the base of Ryan’s abdomen. Exhaling a long breath, he gave the hands wrapped around his midsection a gentle pat, “alright, my dick’s cold. Let me change out of my underwear before my balls get frostbite and fall off.”

... which provided quite the mental picture. Though, as he continued to hold onto Dylan—Ryan’s front pressed into his back—he thought that there were plenty of ways to get that warmed back up: “I could help with that.”

“The... underwear?” Dylan glanced back, confused, “It’s not really a two person job.”

“No. The... I could help with... uh,” oh, God, “I could help with the... the frostbite thing? Like, warm them up. I can warm up your... your balls? Jesus Christ...”

There was a long pause. Then another. Then, “You really need to work on your dirty talk.”

“I know,” Ryan groaned, finally releasing his grip to let the other step out of his soggy underwear. And as he watched him do so, he concluded that Dylan’s movements felt deliberately slow. That theory was only further proven when Dylan turned around, quirking an eyebrow as he put himself on full display for the other’s viewing pleasure. And as Ryan’s eyes drifted down... “Oh. Clearly someone liked it.”

Eyes narrowing, Dylan scoffed, “You try falling dick-first into a bunch of snow. It’s just,” he paused, searching for the right word. Eventually, he settled on, “un-retracting.”

Tilting his head to the side, the new angle provided Ryan some new insight: “... looks like it’s doing a little bit more than that.”

Sighing, “Yeah, I know. It’s just been a while.”

At least a month, to be exact. It’s not like they hadn’t wanted to—obviously—it’s just that they’d been busy. Ryan with work, Dylan with school and undergrad research... the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Not like it used to.

Not like it did right now.

“Previous offer is still on the table,” Ryan shrugged, eyeing Dylan’s growing ‘problem’ with one solution in mind, “if you want.” He didn’t know how early it was. He didn’t care. All he really cared about was getting one of them under the other, and he didn’t really mind who.

Brow raised, Dylan gave an inquisitive tilt of his head at the proposition. And just when Ryan thought he’d decline, opting to turn in until sunrise... he grinned. Stepping into the other’s personal space, he helped free Ryan from his pajamas, reducing the both of them to the same level of undress. The same level of vulnerability.

It didn’t take long to fall into one another after that, teeth occasionally clicking together as they licked into each other’s mouths, stumbling blindly backwards until they finally collided with the bed. Hitting the mattress with a quiet ‘oof,’ they inched themselves back until they neared the headboard.

Breathless, naked, and panting, Dylan briefly pulled away to ask, “Do we still have...?”

“Yeah,” Ryan breathed, reaching over to retrieve the bottle of lube from their bedside drawer. Popping open the cap, he squirted a generous amount into the palm of his hand. Straddling the other with their dicks between them, Ryan wrapped his hand around them both. Tightening his grip in a way that had the both of them groaning, he began to slowly pump his hand, lathering them with the clear gel.

“Fuck...” Dylan breathed, throwing his head back against the pillow as he got lost in the sensation. Hips rocking forward and back as he chased that feeling, his cock stiffened more and more with each slow, wet pump of Ryan’s hand.

Ryan wasn’t sure what he was getting off more to at that point: his own hand, or the way Dylan looked beneath him. Head thrown back, the column of his neck was completely exposed, practically begging to be marked and claimed. Leaning down, Ryan was more than happy to oblige, sucking bruising kisses into the blank canvas of skin as Dylan moaned, pulling him closer and rutting against him, desperate for release.

And Ryan wasn’t fairing much better. Between the sounds Dylan was making, the heat pooling in his stomach, and the pressure building at the base of his abdomen... he knew it wouldn’t be much longer. And while he’d have been perfectly content with finishing like that—wrapped in loving embrace as he stroked the both of them to completion—he couldn’t help but want more.

Sliding back, Ryan brought his hands to Dylan’s knees, spreading them apart as the other made a small, surprised noise in the back of his throat. “Is this ok?” Ryan asked, refusing to move until he was certain.

Lips pulled into a lazy grin, Dylan spread his legs even more for him, “It’s great.”

Well, alright then. Lube and pre-cum already dripping down Dylan’s shaft, Ryan used it to coat his entrance, taking pride in the little gasp that escaped the other when his finger caught the rim. Checking his face for any signs of discomfort and finding none, Ryan pushed the first digit in, slowly sinking it down to the knuckle; gently working it in, then out, then in again.

Exhaling a pleased sigh, Dylan lifted a leg and rested it on the other man’s shoulder, giving him easier access. Flushed and panting, a thin layer of sweat gleamed on his skin as Ryan worked him open.

Adding a second finger, the sound Dylan made went straight to his rapidly hardening dick. It was desperate, and needy, and begging to be fucked. “You’re beautiful,” Ryan breathed, unable to pry away his hungry eyes.

Though, the words seemed to have the opposite of their desired effect, breaking Dylan from the fucked-out bliss he’d been savoring. Scoffing, he nudged Ryan lightly with the shin at his shoulder. “Stop that,” he muttered.

And Ryan didn’t like that at all. Frowning, “I mean it.”

But Dylan didn’t respond. Turning his head to stare at the wall, he wouldn’t even look at him,

Breathing an audible sigh, Ryan never understood why he got like this. It didn’t happen often. Not enough to anticipate it, at least. But much like a lingering wound forgotten about until the next bout of inflammation... it happened enough that Ryan remained aware of every instance upon each new occurrence. Because Dylan didn’t get embarrassed every time Ryan paid him a compliment during sex, but that could’ve just been because he was far too out of it by the time Ryan really got carried away with his praises. The part of the night where they both got too lost in the other to care about what was coming out of either of their mouths.

“I mean it,” Ryan repeated, pushing his full body weight against the leg on his shoulder, pinning Dylan in place as he added the third finger, “you look good like this.” He couldn’t help but delight in the way the other shuddered from it, clenching around his fingers.

By the time Ryan added the fourth, he’d managed to chip away at most of Dylan’s lingering doubts and insecurities, drawing out all those little noises he missed. Flexing his fingers, he watched him arch off the mattress with a surprised yelp.

Pooling pre-cum at the base of his stomach, Dylan tried to leverage what little control he had left. Using his leg to pull the other closer, he grinded down on the fingers stretching him open, gasping, “Ryan, please, I need...”

Yeah. He’s ready. Easing out his fingers and removing the leg swung over his shoulder, Ryan leaned over to their bedside once more, this time, in search of a condom. That’s when he felt a hand encompass his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“No,” Dylan said, eyes darkened with a carnal hunger, “leave it.”

And who would Ryan be to deny him that? Settling back into his spot above Dylan, he leaned down to suck another bruise into his collarbone. Placing his hands behind the other’s knees, he began to push them gently to his chest, lining himself up.

“Uh... wait,” Dylan said, stopping him in an instant. Getting his elbows underneath himself, he used them to push into a sitting position, “can I do this on my front?”

Leaning back onto his knees, Ryan released the hold on his legs and let him do what he needed to get comfortable.

Flipping onto his chest, Dylan buried his head in his pillow as he pulled it close. And maybe Ryan was reading too much into things, but it distinctly felt like he was trying to hide. Leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the space between his shoulder blades, he murmured, “Is this still ok? We can stop if you need to.”

Sigh muffled by the pillow, Dylan turned his head to speak, “I’m fine... I don’t know why I get weird about that. Sorry.”

Still not entirely convinced, Ryan didn’t make a move to continue. “You don’t need to apologize,” he said, meaning it, “can we talk about it?”

Probably not, based on nothing else than the long stretch of silence that followed. Shaking his head, Dylan just shoved his head into the pillow again before muttering, “It’s stupid.”

But Ryan didn’t think it was stupid at all. If it mattered to Dylan, it wasn’t stupid. “I promise it’s not,” and he’d wait as long as he needed for him to finally believe him.

Whether or not he actually did was up for debate, but eventually, Dylan decided to speak, “Sometimes the compliments are... a lot—and before you say anything: it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I think I just had some hang-ups I didn’t fully get over before we started dating, and that’s on me. I guess... I just... I didn’t know anybody could love me like that before I met you.”

His words wedged a pit deep in Ryan’s stomach, and he’d do anything to be rid of it. Wrapping his arms around the other... he just held him. “I love you,” he whispered, ghosting a kiss behind his ear, “and I’m sorry if I don’t tell you that enough.”

“You do,” Dylan sighed as he shifted in his arms, trying to get closer, “I’m just weird.” His eyes were damp.

“You’re not weird,” Ryan said before pausing to consider it further, “well... you are. But not about this.” Raising a hand to his face, he brushed away the unshed tears.

Shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter, they both just laid there in each other’s arms, drinking each other in. Lost in the moment, they almost forgot about everything leading up to it...

Almost.

“Hey,” Dylan said, craning his neck back to look at Ryan, “can we keep going?”

And Ryan tried not to seem too desperate as he repositioned himself. “Y-yeah. Yeah, of course,” he stammered, waiting for one-hundred-percent confirmation and certainty before continuing, “are you sure?”

“Yeah, Ryan,” he breathed, hooking an arm around his neck, pulling him close to kiss him, “I’m sure.” Spreading himself open with his fingers, Dylan offered himself to the other whenever he was willing to take him.

Huffing a shuddering breath, it took all of Ryan’s willpower to not have him right then and there. To not lean forward, stuffing him full with one quick snap of his hips. “I think you’re killing me,” he murmured against Dylan’s lips, pushing him down until he was lying flush against their bed. Chest down, ass up. Pressing the head of his throbbing cock to the man’s aching hole, he slowly began to tilt his hips forward.

“Oh...” Dylan exhaled. And as Ryan sunk in further—breaching the rim—his back arched, “Oh.”

Arms still wrapped firmly around him, Ryan leaned over Dylan’s shoulder, whispering sweet nothings as he eased him through the burn of that first stretch. Brushing his hands down his body, he stroked and squeezed whatever he could get a hold of: chest, stomach, thighs... when Ryan finally bottomed out, his own strangled moan tore its way from his throat. Because all he could think about was how tight Dylan felt as he twitched inside of him. Stilling his movements, he was forced to do nothing else but breathe as he focused on not blowing his load too soon.

But Dylan wasn’t making it easy. Pushing himself up to trembling hands and knees, he began rocking his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Ryan’s cock.

“Holy shit—Dylan,” he gasped, hands roughly seizing the others hips in a desperate attempt to regain some control. Leaning back, his dick came with him, sliding out of the other even as he continued to try and chase it.

Whining from the loss, Dylan sunk to his elbows in a huff. It felt rather petulant. Bratty, even. “You seemed tired,” he said, casting a not-so innocent look over his shoulder, “I was trying to help.”

“Alright,” Ryan acknowledged with a careful nod and an unfamiliar surge of confidence, “I hear you.” Without giving the other time to react, he nudged his legs further apart before fully sheathing himself with one deliberate thrust.

Hand flailing to grip the headboard, Dylan made a noise like the air had been punched from his lungs. But he wasn’t complaining. Breathless pants soon turned into self-satisfied chuckles. But that satisfaction soon turned to confusion, because as he tried to move his hips to chase that feeling... he found that he couldn’t.

Ryan continued to lean his weight forward, pushing deeper and deeper until the other was forced to sink down with him. Gasping from both shock and pleasure, Dylan trembled beneath him as he pinned him to the bed; connected at the hips. Deeming his point more than made, Ryan finally began to move, slowly fucking him into the mattress. He delighted at each needy moan it elicited, and the friction of each languid slide.

Each slow push sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through the other, and it wasn’t long until Dylan attempted to snake an arm down his front to grip his aching cock, chasing that release. But Ryan caught it immediately, grabbing the hand and pinning it to the bed. He pinned the other arm too for good measure.

“Shit, Ryan—come on!” he snapped, attempting to jerk his hips back to take him quick and deep. But he couldn’t. Ryan had him, and he wasn’t letting go. The only thing left to do was beg, “... please?”

But Ryan never sped up his movements. If anything, he went slower. Deeper. Burying himself inside of him over and over and over again; pulling all the way out before sliding all the way back in. Ryan was taking his time, and he was taking Dylan with it.

Able to do little else but writhe beneath him... Dylan embraced this fate. Moans tapering off into whimpers, he took whatever he was given. Nothing more. Nothing less.

But Ryan was only human, and no matter how stoic and unaffected the mask he wore appeared to be, he was not immune to the effect Dylan had on him. Nor was he immune to the walls of muscle tightening around his cock as he nailed that bundle of nerves buried deep inside the other.

Breath hitching, Dylan fisted at the sheets as if trying to claw himself out from under him. Thick, liquid heat pooled deep inside of him—deeper than even Ryan could reach—as he resigned himself to limply rocking along with each thrust, whimpering with each blunt press against his prostate.

And in a perfect world, Ryan would keep him like this until sunrise. Building him up with each painfully slow grind of his hips, teetering him on the edge of release until he was reduced to nothing but noises and drool, too fucked-out to even beg for it anymore. His climax would build like a tidal wave, steady and gradual, before suddenly overtaking him. He’d spill over himself—untouched—from nothing more than the feeling of being so completely and utterly full.

But with the tension coiling in his own stomach, Ryan knew that’d have to wait for another night. Nestling his head over the other’s shoulder, he let his words spill from his mouth like a dam that had finally burst; it would seem they’d reached ‘that’ part of the night. He’d have called it nonsense if he hadn’t meant every word of it: Beautiful. Taking it so good. Mine, all mine. Desperate, needy moans mixed with the sound of flesh smacking against flesh filled the room as Ryan picked up the pace.

Writhing against the sheets, Dylan rode the waves of pleasure as they washed over him. “Ryan, p-please... please let me—” he cried out, despairing and desperate, as Ryan snaked his hand beneath him, curling it around his neglected cock before pumping it to the rhythm set by his hips.

And that was the end of it. Balls tightening, Ryan filled him one final time with a firm roll of his hips... and he held it there: pressing Dylan into the mattress, throbbing against his prostate, spilling into him until he milked out every last drop.

Heat swelling in his gut as Ryan emptied himself inside of him, it was enough to finally send Dylan over the edge. Hips stuttering, he spilled over Ryan’s hand as the man continued to stroke him, bringing him to the edge of overstimulation. Choking back a sob, Dylan gave Ryan a gentle but pointed tap on the arm.

Ryan ceased his movements, easing himself out of him. Turning Dylan on his side and drawing him flush against his chest, he began massaging the soreness from his thighs before it could set.

Dylan relaxed, breathing leveling off as he settled into the embrace, flipping over to wrap his arms around Ryan in turn. But eventually—as body heats cooled and pulses steadied—they were forced to peel themselves off of one another lest their spend begin to harden into a thin crust...

Ew.

“I’m sticky,” Dylan chuckled, using his hand to smear around the goop coating his stomach.

That was Ryan’s cue. Extracting himself from the sheets—wincing from the soreness already building in his core—he shuffled to the bathroom. Upon his return, he held a damp washrag in either hand. He passed one off to the other before using his to wipe himself down.

After wiping down his front, Dylan unfolded the rag and sat on it. And then he waited. Brow pinched in concentration, “... we should probably strip the bed.”

Which was a very fair point. “I’ll take care of it later,” Ryan promised, kneeling onto the mattress to clean up what the man had missed on his stomach, “just... keep doing what you’re doing, I guess.”

“Way ahead of you,” Dylan said, giving him a playful nudge on the arm, “oh, and just FYI: I’m gonna get you back for that in a couple hours.”

Ryan snorted, giving a good natured shake his head, “You liked it.”

“I did,” Dylan admitted with a wistful sigh. Then, eyes glinting as he spoke in a low tone, “but not as much as you will,” sexiness only slightly undercut by the fact he was currently oozing into a rag.

Huffing a quiet, disbelieving laugh, Ryan settled into bed next to him. Draping an arm around Dylan’s shoulder, he used it to pull him close, tasting salt as he pressed a tender kiss to his sweaty forehead, “I’ll hold you to it.”

In the end, Dylan stayed true to his word, save for the fact ‘a couple hours’ only ended up being around forty-five minutes.

[lover-of-mine]

Re: the "Natalia and I, we broke up." + "all she wanted to talk about was death; it was kinda boring." That scene, and particularly reading the Tim M. interview where he talked about being "over all the death talk" and how those lines in the script might have been a little bit of him talking, actually have me concerned that they've abandoned what seems like was the lead up to an actual Buck Breakdown™ arc.

(Or possibly worse, they consider 6b to *be* the Buck Breakdown arc and work through of all his trauma, and now they consider it done.)

Oliver's interviews talking about Buck 'being a new man' 'just doing things that make him happy' 'finally getting off the hamster wheel" and overall being in a much better place suggest that he's in that like post-breakdown/healing journey already? Idk, I felt like there was a lot in the second half of 6B with Buck's storyline that got a little fumbled/sloppy with the fear of cancellation and them trying to put a final bow on things, but there was also a lot that suggested we were heading towards a really meaty, Breakdown™ story in S7. Now it's sounding kind of like, because of how it was handled last season, Tim has lost interest and is ready to just kind of mark that story as case closed and skip ahead to "happy, new man" Buck.

I see what you mean, but seriously, it would be a bad storytelling decision to have this major trauma in Buck's life be completely ignored/handled off screen again, say he's Buck 4.0 and call it a day would be annoying as hell. They handled that pretty badly with the fear of cancellation and with Natalia not coming back, they didn't even have a satisfying ending for that. I wrote this and this this weekend, and I don't know if this is a reaction to that or if I'm just a person you felt like you could send these thoughts to, but Buck thinking death is boring just to be heavily triggered by death is a possibility. Because we know Bobby is in mortal danger, and his biggest trigger in the coma was the fact that Bobby was dead, and Buck finally being able to face that is something that could work. And Buck working on himself without a major breakdown, maybe because he felt like he was getting there and decided not to let it get that bad could also be a conclusion there. I want a full breakdown for Buck, I want him on the floor crying, but depending on how they make the whole "he's a new man" thing, I could get behind it. They just have to acknowledge it happened, because you can't have Eddie's whole arc about burying his feelings and having that blow up in his face, effectively establishing that just "moving past it" doesn't work, to have Buck be all fine by just moving past it.

All the talk is actually making me think about my initial speculation about Buck/buddie and my whole Buck drowning thing, because the whole thing hinged on Buck being fine and getting triggered. Because I wrote a really long thing about Buck getting triggered over something happening to Bobby, Maddie, or Chris, that leading to him getting all sorts of unstable before deciding to work on himself, and while I did speculate on a full breakdown, Buck recognizing the trigger and asking for help before things get explosive are a way to handle him without the "exhausting death talk" because we are not dealing with Buck's death, we are dealing with someone else, and with a Buck that wants to be alive and could get conflicted about how to handle the situation. Because Buck and Eddie mirror each other and Eddie's breakdown buildup started when he was introduced, the well and the shooting are one of the stops yeah, but everything about Eddie led him to fear-o-phobia. Buck's breakdown has been building since Buck begins, and he's been slowly self destructing since then, but the lightning is Buck's well (volunteering into the situation, night and rain aspect of it, saving himself), so if they keep mirroring the 2, Buck needs another trigger, because what actually triggers Eddie isn't the possibility of his death, is the death of someone else, because he's the last one standing, forever the one left behind. But where Eddie is the widower, Buck is the savior, so the most effective way to trigger him would be failing to save someone he loves, and with the focus on Bobby in his coma world, and the way Bobby is about to die, the possibility is right there. But let's say they don't go with that, a Buck breakdown wouldn't be explosive, and Buck focusing on being a better man, acting like he's getting better just to have something happens to shake that belief by the end of the season (buddie car crash in the season finale you heard it here first on October 16 2023 lol), is a way to move past the death talk for a while just to have it all came crashing down later on, the same way Eddie seemed fine until he wasn't (I mean in s4, s5 Eddie is hanging by a thread the whole time). But this is mostly what I've been telling myself over how they're talking about Buck, because I need that man to break so he can actually move on with his life.

[le-amewzing]

Without Me, You’re Nothing

An old oneshot, done for a forum exchange.

Fic: "Without Me, You're Nothing" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Castiel/Dean Winchester, with cameos from Sam Winchester & Bobby Singer

Rating: light T

Words: ~1,820

Additional info: romance, slash, angst, AU fic, 3rd person POV

Summary: Cass is no longer God. But there are other ways to be a god.

      Cass came back to his senses, thanks to Dean.

      It took a lot of effort and almost cost him his life, but Cass came back. Be it leviathans, demons, or something far worse…

      The angel has some confidence that he will always right things if he has Dean there to scold him. Dean is like his check and balance. Cass goes off the reservation, Dean yells him back to his senses. Cass turns evil, Dean's there holding out a hand to bring him back up from his fall.

      Sometimes Cass muses that he needs Dean. It's in a different way from needing family or friends. He's certain it's different from the way Dean needs water or burgers or pie. But the bottom line is that he needs Dean.

      He takes to sticking around the boys. It's better than the alternative, because angels, as the boys would say, are getting "ganked" left and right by leviathans.

      Cass likes sitting in the backseat, behind Sam. That way, he gets the best view, the widest view of Dean. He can keep Dean in sight, and Dean can keep him in sight.

      Dean says nothing. Sam says nothing, either, but he's lost in his own thoughts, like usual. It probably has to do with Lucifer pestering him, and for that Cass is sorry. He's not quite sure how to fix that, not yet.

      While the three of them say nothing in a car traveling on the lookout for leviathans and other things that go bump in the night, Cass rests his wings and continues his view.

      Every now and then, Dean's eyes shift to the rearview mirror. They catch Cass' every now and then.

      Cass doesn't blame him. He knows Dean's looking for any change, any sign that there is some part of the angel that Dean didn't get through to…but it's all right. Cass is here, all of him.

      All of him, for Dean.

      It's a good thing, too.

      Out in California, they take care of a kirin herd. Far worse than any simple imagined unicorn, the kirins have been running people through with their horns as part of their mating ritual.

      "I thought they were supposed to be good luck," Sam remarks.

      "In both Chinese and Japanese mythology, maybe," Dean says. "But we're far from the islands, and I don't see how lucky it is, getting impaled so some bastard can get laid."

      Even though Dean talks all high and mighty, he still ends up being one of the victims. Then Sam cuts off a kirin's horn and uses it to kill the herd, and they're just left with a dying Dean.

      The boys don't even need to say a word. Castiel heals Dean without a second thought. There, good as new.

      "Thanks, Cass," Dean says with a grateful smile. He means it. "Let's hope you don't have to do that again anytime soon."

      The angel shrugs. Isn't that what he's here for?

      As it turns out…that is exactly what he's here for. It's not as though the Winchesters plan on it, but Dean and Sam get roughed up on more than one occasion, Dean more so. Occasionally Cass wonders what they did before angels. …oh, right, they made deals.

      But kirins, cluricauns, nagas—all kinds of things still bubble up to the surface while the leviathans are on the loose. And, when all kinds of things bubble up to the surface, Dean gets hurt. A lot.

      With every healing session, Castiel frowns more and more. He may not be God anymore, but he begins to realize that he can't quit being a god around Dean. Maybe, just maybe, it's not only that he needs Dean.

      Maybe Dean needs him, too. (At least, to live.)

      Uriel once said that humanity was God's favorite. Castiel agrees. In that way, he would've made a good God. Humanity is (or perhaps just a few humans in particular are) his favorite.

      Time passes, and the Winchesters are on their never-ending crusade. Along the way, Cass makes good use of his time, and he no longer goes for walks while they sleep.

      Each and every night, Cass looks Dean over. Each night, he selects one old injury—the ones sustained after he raised Dean from Hell, because Dean's had the crap beaten out of him since then—and heals it.

      The insides Zachariah played with? Brand-new.

      The scars other hunters left him with guns and knives? Invisible (but really gone).

      The slices left behind when the boys need their own blood for some spell? Sewn up.

      Cass wonders what Dean would think if he knew Cass was exercising such control over him.

      Frankly, Cass doesn't care. Dean's alive and well and kicking, and that puts his mind at ease.

      "Dude—you got less sleep than I did, and I was the one tied up and waiting for you," Sam tells his big brother after a narrow escape from leviathans.

      Dean grins. Cass enjoys seeing that grin. "I don't know what to tell you, Sammy. But it's great. It's like—it's like I slept on a bed of feathers—" He pauses, glances in the mirror at Cass. "No offense."

      The angel imperceptibly smiles. "None taken."

      "Anyway," he continues, coming back to his brother, "it's like I had the best night's sleep of my life. I feel empowered, man. Invigorated." He pumps his fist as if that will prove something.

      "Okay, Superman, so you got your extra dose of the sun this morning," Sam says and yawns. "But quiet now, okay? I'm gonna close my eyes for a bit."

      "You do that." Dean turns up the music. Led Zeppelin blares from the speakers.

      Sam sighs, but he falls asleep anyway. He's used to this by now.

      The more Cass heals, the better Dean feels.

      One night, off the road so the boys can sleep, Dean's too excited to close his eyes. He gets out of the car and downs a bottle of water. Cass joins him.

      "Can't sleep?" Dean jokes.

      "I shut my eyes from time to time, collect my thoughts," Castiel replies.

      "I'm beginning to think that's what I'll do."

      Cass doesn't frown, but he doesn't smile either. "That's impossible. I am an angel, Dean. You are a mortal. You need sleep."

      Dean scratches his head. "Yeah… About that…I kind of feel like I can't."

      Lovely. Perhaps Cass has healed a little too much?

      "Honestly, I feel great. I've never felt so fit before. I… I think I'm in even better shape to be a hunter these days." He looks at Castiel, waiting for a comment.

      "That doesn't mean you shouldn't take it easy," Castiel warns.

      Dean snorts and rests an arm on Cass' shoulder. "Cass, when have I ever taken it easy?"

      Dean takes it too easy.

      In a scenario about which Cass simply can't shake the feeling was meant to happen with Bobby in the starring role, Dean and Sam escape SucroCorp, with Dick Roman hot on their heels. But Dick Roman's an excellent shot, and the next thing Cass knows, he, Sam, and Bobby are riding with a body with an extra hole in its head.

      Sam's yelling. Bobby's asking what the hell's going on.

      Dean's saying nothing.

      And Cass? Cass is panicking.

      He summons a lot of his power—more than he's done as of late—and gets to work. He extracts the bullet. He mends Dean's brain. He rebuilds Dean's skull. He even cleans up the blood.

      Once they're far enough away, Bobby pulls over, and it's a happy reunion for everyone.

      Well, almost everyone.

      Dean would like to rush in through the front doors to kill Dick Roman. But that's not going to happen, because they still don't have the tools to kill the head leviathan.

      "Well, we'll figure it out along the way," he snaps when they're at Bobby's home.

      Sam and Bobby look between him and Cass. Cass figures that if it weren't Bobby's home, they'd both give them the room.

      But Dean leaves first. He heads outside, leaving Castiel to clench and unclench his fists by his sides in silence until the eyes on him become unbearable and he chases after his favorite mortal.

      Outside, Cass finds Dean rearranging the armory in the trunk. He looks raring to go. "This is madness, Dean."

      "No, what's madness is that I can't sit still while those freakin' monsters infect the country and turn us all into lunchmeat!" He pauses, catches his breath. He glares at Cass. "He put a frickin' bullet in my head, Cass!"

      "You cannot do the same."

      "And why not?"

      Cass steps forward, getting in Dean's face. Maybe it's a side-effect of wearing Jimmy's body for all these years, but Cass' heart is pounding wildly in his ears. Can Dean hear it, too? "You're not invincible."

      "Well, no, but I feel—"

      "I saved you the other night, from almost dying. And I'm to blame for your energy returning to you. I've been healing you. Every little thing wrong with you, I've been fixing."

      Dean purses his lips. He looks away. "Oh. Thanks."

      "I do not want thanks, Dean. I heal you because I want to. But I did not heal you to lose you. You saved me, Dean. Many times. May I save you this time?"

      The older Winchester looks back at him. It's a familiar sight. They've been here so many times before, staring but never admitting to anything.

      Maybe what Cass just said… Maybe that's as close as they ever got to admitting anything?

      "I don't need you to protect me."

      Cass waits.

      Dean reddens and turns away, scoffing. "I mean, for cryin' out loud, Cass! Me, protected? I'm not some chick waiting for a prince." He shakes his head. "You're the princess."

      Cass smiles. It's Dean's way of giving up, giving in (and admitting a little something, too).

      Castiel cannot force Dean Winchester to give up hunting. That would be tantamount to changing Dean, and Cass doesn't want to do that. Dean, after all, is his favorite mortal.

      But Cass will continue to heal him so long as Dean becomes more cautious. Cass will wait until Dean cools off after every close call, and he will let Dean sleep—be it in his seat or in a bed or with his head resting in Cass' lap—and he will heal Dean. And, every morning, Dean will wake up with a tan trench coat spread over him like a blanket or a shield.

      Castiel will do his best so that the "big game" is left to him, or so Dean at least will always fight alongside Cass. That's the best the angel can do, so that he doesn't lose Dean. His favorite mortal—he needs him, and Dean needs Cass. Maybe not like a god needs worshippers or a worshipper needs his god.

      (But maybe exactly like a princess needs her prince and vice versa…)

Wow… Apparently when I write from Cass' POV, the fic runs away from me like salt repelling a demon… O.o So…yeah. I was rather interested in exploring Cass' God-complex, and I kind of wish he'd been in s7 more… :L Hell, I kinda wish he'd just be around more and the writers would admit they ship Destiel, too. XP Anyway… Have some Destiel feels, lil' sis. ;P Angsty enough? Note: Kirins are a unicorn-like creature from Chinese and Japanese mythology, cluricauns are like the liquor-addicted versions of leprechauns, and nagas are serpents from Hindu mythos, I believe (has SPN used them before? I don't recall at this moment, whoops). Lastly: The title is a twist on Placebo's song "Without You, I'm Nothing," featuring David Bowie. Good song. -w-

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2022 note: *lol* Mannnnn, my closing A/N just has me going. *eyes* Anywho! A few fixes and some word swaps, but this 2014 fic is p much intact in its original form, and I like that. I forgot about the AU twist included here, but it makes perfect sense, giving the boys having Cass along for the ride. AHHHH, sometimes I feel the urge to do a season or series rewrite for some fandoms…but where would I ever find the time or energy? *lol* (Translation: My old A/N was so right—s7 deffo did not have enough Castiel. ;w;)

[forgottenxmuses]

I saw the new Chip and Dale movie and I have a lot to say:

Okay this is a lot I have to say so I am putting it under cut. I am going to spoil the movie, point out some things, and even bring up the other movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit. You will see later on. Also sorry before hand, but might have forgotten or miss somethings, cause I only saw the movie once.

I can’t believe I have to do this first. But Trigger warning:

Showing of needle.

Real life actor death.

Mention of overdose.

Mention of surgery

Before I start I need to say this. I am not a Chip and Dale rescue rangers fan. I tried to watch it on the Disney channel as a lil one years ago, but I could never get into it. So keep that in mind as I bring up some things. The whole plot of the movie is about how Chip and Dale years later how they are doing after there show ended, and they get a call from there old friend, Monterey Jack who owes money from a toon gang, and he gets kidnapped and forced to change his looks through surgery to be in bootleg movies. You find out that the one who runs the gang is a older Peter Pan, and the reason why he is doing what he is doing is, because he was kicked out for going through puberty, found out he can be in bootlegs, make a profit, and force others to be in these movies. As the movie goes on Chip and Dale are are trying to find out the location on where Monterey Jack is, and to stop Peter Pan from bootleging, which is illegal this universe, and the movie ends with Peter Pan changing into different parts of cartoons into something that doesn’t resemble him at all, Peter Pan is arrested, Chip and Dale find there friend, and the toon’s who where changed to look like bootlegs are taken by the cops to go to the surgery to be there normal selves again. The ending credit screen shows that the rangers are then in a reboot movie of there show, and that’s it. The movie is over. So what is the problem?

Well a lot. I failed to mention this, but at the start of the movie you see Roger from Who Framed Roger Rabbit, meaning this takes place in the same universe. To prove it here is a part where Peter pan has things to use to torture toons who don’t pay up, and he makes them into bootlegs. So this is years after what happened to toontown, What Judge Doom did by murdering toons, which was the only time in history where a toon can be killed, and now us finding out that now a new way to get rid of toons is by erasing them with a eraser! Not only that, but there is no way for me to say this, but it feels like almost a lot of toons lost there rights as the years went on. To prove this I am going to bring up some things the movie brought up. -Bootlegs and CG characters are not seen as real toons. So they might be seen as second class citizen in this universe, which YIKES! -Muppets are seen as animals. They are used in muppet fights, which is also illegal. -Once you are fired you have no place to go as a toon, which causes more questions, because toontown should have helped them give them a place to stay and a job at least right? -Humans are the only ones to say, which toons get a job in movies, reboot, and Tv shows. Which is odd cause toons can be apart of the government (You find out that Butthead is a senator.), but not in the movie industry? -So that means a human fired Peter, cause no way Disney would make there poster boy Mickey Mouse evil, but we never find out who it was? Maybe Walt Disney himself with out saying it? It’s just theories by this point sad to say.

Plus I do not know why but this whole movie feels very mean spirited as well. I will bring up why I feel this way, but addressing the HUGE elephant in the room. The one who they picked to be the villain, Peter Pan. It mirrors what happened to the real Peter Pan voice actor in the original Disney movie. For those who don’t know here is a very abridge version of what happened, because going into everything is very heartbraking, and my soul can’t really take it. Bobby Driscoll, the one who voiced Peter Pan in the original Disney movie was fired the moment he showed his age as a teen, and the boy now a man struggled his whole life after this, and died from a overdose at age 31. So them making him a villain, and not only that, but making a joke how he got a netflix documentary about his downfall? Very disrespectful.

The movie also shows that bootlegs or taking things and putting them into other things all Sonicchu style for a profit is seen as horrible. But I am sorry? You have no right to give me that message, when you stole art form a artist, and put there art as a part of your movie! Original artist: https://www.deviantart.com/kimbolie12/art/Sora-Kingdom-hearts-3-design-547019239 Plus the Darkwing duck asking for a reboot as well in the ending is kinda scummy to me as well. Cause yo. Not a fan of Darkwing, and I hate I can’t get into it, but I have seen more Darkwing Duck fans asking for a reboot for year then the rescue rangers. Over all the movie feels like it took everything what Who Framed Roger Rabbit stood for for toons, there struggles with, lets not lie to our selvs, racism by the human, and trying to make the world a better place for toons.

So what would I change for the movie to make it passable? I don’t see anyone talking about is that Bootlegs are not seen as real toons, but something illegal, and stopped. But I am sorry? Since this takes place in the Who Framed Roger Rabbit universe, that means a human made them right? No they said that Peter made them first, and was the one who started this whole thing, which brings up more questions that makes no sense! Why not make a villain who was a human who made bootlegs, and make one of the bootlegs who works under this human with a huge identity crises who has no idea who they are, and are going to there creator for help? And you can bring back one of these guys back for the movie, but only one as the main focus. Stick with Chip and dale, pick Darkwing duck, or even Bonkers! And have them looking into bootlegs, finding out there struggles, and the moment they meet the bad guy they ask, “But why make these toons to be something they are not to make these movies? They have no real self other then what you gave them. What do you get out of this?“ Only for the human to say why they did what they did. “This is just easy money. It’s amazing what grandparents buy by mistake, plus those that just want a good laugh to see what I make, and of course those who can’t fish out the cash for the official stuff, so I make it at a cheep price. Really everyone benefits from me.“ A fight happens, the bad guy loses his skill to draw by his hands being broken by his creations who hear the truth about there creation off screen, before the cops come in, and the hero of the movie is thinking of giving the bootlegs a place to stay in toontown, since they are victims in all this by a human who used them for profit. As well as giving them jobs or being seen as citizens. But you know there is no way Disney would have done this, because they want there movies to be seen as the best out of everything, and anything that copies them should be stopped. That’s really everything I have to say. I know a lot of people like the movie, but I don’t mostly because of what they did to the Who Framed Roger Rabbit Universe, which really feels like a set back then a growth for toons and humans, and takes there messages about bootlegs and official ownership all so Disney can have there cake and eat it.

[bing-bang-bingo]

- 4x3: c. 40:00 Cas comforts Dean after Mary makes a deal w/ Azazel

- 4x7: 15:50 Dean stops Sam from shooting Cas, then Sam mentions that he’s “heard a lot about him”

- 4x7: 39:00 Cas tells Dean he prayed he’d save the town, then he tells him about his doubts and Deans future troubles

- 4x10 & ???: Dean calls “last night on Earth” his best line. He uses this line on Cas

- 4x10: 27:15 “Castiel has this weakness. He likes you.”

- 4x10: 32:50 Cas looking jealous and sad when Dean kisses Anna

- 4x16: 7:30 Cas tells Dean he got in trouble for showing emotion and getting to close to Dean. 8:20 “I would give anything not to have you do this”

- 4x16: 39:00 Cas warns Dean to be careful while Dean is in the hospital, they discuss the first seal and saving Dean from hell

- 4x18: 31:30 Cas tells Dean how to save Sam from Lilith even though he’s not allowed to interfere

- 4x20: 38:00 Deans face when Cas tells him he “learned his lesson when he was in heaven”

- 4x22: 30:40 Cas considers rebelling for Dean. 33:00 He does. 35:20 He fights multiple Archangels for Dean

- 5x1: 5:45 Dean denies Cas’ death 8:25 “I learned that from my friend Cas you son of a bitch”

- 5x1: 31:00 Cas saves Sam and Dean from Zach

- 5x3: 6:10 Cas-“I need your help because your the only one who will help me”

- 5x3: 10:20 Dean fixes Cas’ tie and jacket

- 5x4: 38:50 “Don’t Ever Change”

- 5x8: 38:20 Dean makes Gabriel bring Cas back, then makes sure he’s okay

- 5x13: ?:?? Cas won’t let Dean meet with Anna because it’s not safe

- 5x17: 30:30 Cas and Dean discuss what it’s like to have a deadbeat dad

- 5x18: 25:15 Cas kicks Deans ass for trying to sacrifice himself

- 5x21: 3:50 Cas and Dean bickering like and old married couple then Cas gives Dean a heartfelt apology.

- 6x17: 18:55 “No you’re confusing me with the other angel, the one in the dirty trench coat who is in love with you.”

- 6x17: 38:00 Sam: “So you killed 50,000 people for us?” Cas: *looks at Dean*

- 6x19: 25:20 Bobby reassures Cas that they’ll be back soon, Cas acts like a worried and disappointed wife.

- 6x19: 36:25 Cas yelling “Dean!” when Eve bites him

- 6x19: 40:00 Dean is the only one who doesn’t think Cas is working with Crowley (he’s wrong but it’s sweet)

- 6x20: 4:50 Dean v v worried, “But Cas you’ll call right? If you get into real trouble?”

- 6:30 Crowley implies that Cas is distracted by Dean and tells him he reeks of the Impala.

- 7:20 Cas says that Dean taught him how to care and what to care about. Then Cas saves Sam (for Dean)

- 13:15 Cas says that the worst part of working with Crowley (basically his sworn natural enemy) is that it hurt Dean and that he hated lying to him.

- 25:20 Cas refuses to ask Dean for help because he has “sacrificed too much” even though it means Cas could die.

- 26:00 Crowley tells Cas he has a way for everyone to get a happy ending “with all possible entendres intended” while Cas stares longingly at Dean.

- 33:00 Dean is close to tears when he learns that Cas is working with Crowley, Cas says he did it to protect Dean.

- 35:25 “Dammit Cas we can fix this!” “Dean it’s not broken!” He then tells the boys to run from the demon cloud and Dean gives him the saddest look in the world before being forced to leave him behind.

- 38:00 Cas watches Dean sleep. “I’m doing this for you Dean. I’m doing this because of you!”

- 6x21: 22:40 “I do everything you ask. I always come when you call and I am your friend. Still despite your lack of faith in me and now your threats I’ve just saved you yet again. Has anyone but your closest kin ever done more for you?”

- 6x22: Dean to Cas- “Don’t make me lose you, too.”

- 7x2: 5:35 Dean nearly cries on screen when he thinks Cas is dead

- 7x17: Cas says “I remember ~you~” as soon as he regains his memories.

- 7x17: Cas ask why Dean didn’t tell him all the horrible things Cas did. Parallels the conversation Karen and Dean had about telling Bobby she remembered him killing her and her telling Dean that he had never been on love before.

- 7x21: The face Dean makes when he sees Cas again plus the prolonged eye contact when Cas says Deans name.

- 7x21: Hester telling Dean that when Cas first saved him from Hell he was lost- parallels- Lucifer/Jess saying she was dead the moment she met Sam.

- 7x23: 8:50 “Go ask him. He was your boyfriend first.” Meg to Dean about Cas

- 7x23: 32:45 “I’m sorry but I’d rather have you, cursed or not.”

- 7x23: 36:50 Cas steps in to protect Dean despite spending the whole season avoiding fighting and saying he won’t fight.

- 8x2: 25:00 Cas ran away to keep the Leviathans away from Dean. Dean refuses to leave purgatory without Cas.

- 8x7: 20:30 Deans reaction to seeing Cas all cleaned up.

- 8x7: Dean convinced himself that it was his fault Cas was still in purgatory because he’s a sweet idiot boy who hates himself

- 8x7: 35:00 The whole Dean and Cas conversation about purgatory and Cas doing stuff that puts him in danger.

- 8x8: 12:30 Cas just casually going through Deans stuff and Dean not saying anything.

- 8x8: 13:00 Cas offering to watch over Dean while he slept

- 8x8: 15:15 Dean talks to Cas about feelings and heaven even though Dean hates talking about feelings.

- 8x17: Cas fights Naomi’s mind control for Dean

- 8x23: 22:50 Dean and Cas sadly discuss Cas closing the doors of heaven and say goodbye

- 9x1: Dean prays to Cas and tells him he isn’t mad about the angels falling.

- 9x1: Cas’ first instinct is to explain himself to Dean then to come help him.

- 9x1: Dean begs Cas to “for once, look out for yourself.”

- 9x3: 36:45 Dean to Cas after Cas came back from the dead “Don’t you ever do that again!”

- 9x6: Literally just Dean trying desperately the whole episode to hang out with Cas

- 9x10: 26:00 Dean and Cas talk about how Cas is doing and Dean offers him a rare sincere apology. Plus the “I prefer the term ‘trusting’. Less dumb, less ass.” dialogue

- 9x18: Cas’ little smile when Dean makes a joke about Honor Bars and Cas is just so happy to hear his voice.

- 9x18: Metatron’s illusion of Gabriel calls Cas Dean’s boy-toy

- 9x18: Cas can tell something is wrong with Dean, then Cas yells at Dean about getting the Mark of Cain

- 9x22: Cas chooses Dean over all of Heaven once again

- 9x22: The Cas and Dean conversation about the three of them being enough when an army wasn’t and Cas giving up an army all for Dean

- 9x23: “I’m blaming you for taking Cas’ grace.”

- 10x1: 5:00 Cas about Dean- “I miss him.”

- 10x2: 9:00 Cas’ reaction to learning that Dean is a demon

- 10x3: The conversation between Dean and Cas at the end of the episode. “You look terrible” “You on the other hand, your looking good.”

- 10x5: Deans reaction to Cas and Dean actors hugging and holding hands

- 10x5: “Put as much sub into that text as you possibly can.” *looks directly at fake Cas*

- 10x9: 15:00 Cas tells Dean he’s a good role model. Then asks him if he’s okay and when Dean lies and says he is he pushes it further. Dean makes Cas promise to kill him if he goes Dark

- 10x22: Dean and Cas fight and parallel Cain and his Wife.

- 10x23: Dean sees Cas’ bloody face in the mirror

- 11x1: Cas being more worried about Dean than himself even though Cas is under a spell that will kill him.

- 11x2: Dean calling Cas and stressing out when he doesn’t answer

- 11x3: Dean trying to coax Cas out of the attack dog spell, refusing to fight back when Cas was attacking, freaking out when Cas took a minute to wake up, refusing to let Cas heal him (because he “had it coming”), and refusing to let Cas apologize (because “there’s nothing to apologize for”).

- 11x10: “Dean, I came as soon as you called.” Also: “Stick your tongue out.” Dean-*does*

- 11x11: Dean realizing that something is wrong with Cas (while he is possessed by Lucifer)

- 11x11: Mildred says that Dean is pining for someone else(probably meant to be a reference to Amara, but she told him this after he had seen Cas for the first time in a few days.)

- 11x14: The sadness on Deans face when he realizes Cas is Lucifer and then his determination to save Cas

- 11x15: Dean getting kinda dark when he talks about what he’s willing to do to save Cas and he prioritizes saving Cas over bearing Amara.

- 11x17: Dean once again prioritizing saving Cas over saving the world. Sam reassuring Dean that they’ll save Cas (even though Dean didn’t say anything about what was upsetting him)

- 11x17: The camera zooming in on Dean after Michelle says that there is no normal after losing the man you love.

- 11x18: Dean refuses to put Lucifer in the cage or let him fight Amara while using Cas as his vessel.

- 11x18: The difference in the way Dean looks at Lucifer vs at Cas

- 11x18: Dean about Cas: “Lets go find that idiot and bring him home.”

- 11x19: Dean has been looking for leads non stop for a week since Amara took Cas

- 11x21: Amara uses Cas’s heart to find Dean, then shows Dean images of Cas beaten and bloodied to convince him to turn against Chuck

- 11x23: Dean’s face when he realizes Cas is back and Lucifer is gone.

- 11x23: Dean tells Cas he isn’t stupid and that he always helps

- 11x23: Cas: “Dean are you okay? How do you feel?”

- 11x23: Cas hugging Dean super tight before he goes off to die. Dean entrusting his life’s purpose (look after Sam) then thanking him for everything.

- 12x1: Cas seeing that Dean is alive and hugging him while his voice breaks.

- 12x1: Cas taking the job Dean have him very seriously

- 12x2: Dean adorably venting to Cas about his mommy-issues

- 12x3: Dean- “Morning sunshine want some coffee.” Cas- “No thank you.”

- 12x7: “Well at least I don’t look like a lumberjack.” They are such husbands

- 12x7: “Engaged in what Cas? killing you?”

- 12x8: Cas being so worried about what happened to Sam and DEAN that Kelly escaped.

- 12x9: Mary-“You left them!” Cas- *voice breaking* “Dean told me to go!” Also, just Cas looking so hard for them.

- 12x9: Cas blaming himself for Sam and Dean being taken

- 12x9 Cas knowing how long the boys have been gone down to the hour.

- 12x9: Cas’s voice and eyes when he hears Dean’s voice on the phone.

- 12x9: Cas killing Billie because “You mean too much to me” and “The world needs as many Winchesters as it can get.”

- 12x10: Poor Sam having to deal with Cas and Dean while they fight like an old married couple.

- 12x10: Dean immediately telling Ishim to go to hell when he insults Cas

- 12x10: Sam telling Dean to go to Cas when Dean thought Cas was in trouble

- 12x10: Cas immediately believing Dean about Ishim even though they’re mad at each other. Dean about to let Ishim kill him to save Cas.

- 12x10: Ishim comparing Dean and Cas’s relationship to Ishims relationship with his human lover, then saying he was going to cut Cas’s human weakness

- 12x11: “And Cas is my best friend.”

- 12x12: Dean about Cas- “My shy but devastatingly handsome friend here...”

- 12x12: Dean stressing out and voice breaking as he tries to comfort poisoned Cas

- 12x12: LITERALLY TOLD DEAN THAT HE LOVED HIM WHILE CAS WAS DYING

- 12x12: *looking at Dean* “I love you.” Then adds “I love all of you”

- 12x12: Cas- “Run.” Dean- “Cas, no.”

- 12x12: The look Dean gives Cas when he won’t stop staring at him after he’s healed.

- 12x14: Dean says some very harsh stuff to Mary after finding out the reason they Cas almost died at the lake house was because Mary was working for the British Men of Letters

- 12x15: Dean could tell something was up with Cas after talking to him for less than a minute, over the phone.

- 12x18: Sam trying to make Dean feel better about not hearing from Cas.

- 12x19: Dean literally always acting like a scorned wife when Cas comes back after long periods of time

- 12x19: Dean made Cas a mixtape

- 12x19: Cas- “I ~needed~ to came back here with a win for you.”

- 12x19: Cas- *gesturing between Dean and himself* “You mean... we?” Dean- “Yes, dumbass, we.”

- 12x23: Dean screaming for Cas when he attacks Lucifer and trying to chase after him forcing Sam to drag Dean back through the rift. A direct parallel to Dean pulling Sam away from Jess and the fire in Pilot

- 12x23: Dean kneeling next to Cas’s dead body looking up at the sky completely devastated.

- 13x1: Dean couldn’t bring himself to say dead when referring to Cas

- 13x1: Dean PRAYED to GOD to bring Cas back

- 13x1: “We just lost ~everything~. And now you’re gonna bring ~him~ back.”

- 13x1: Dean personally wrapping Cas’s body and giving him a hunters funeral.

- 13x1: The look of complete devastation on Dean’s face when he burns Cas’s body.

- 13x3: Dean refusing to help save Jack because he blames him for manipulating Cas and getting him killed.

- 13x4: The Empty to Cas: “I know what you love, what you fear. There is nothing for you back there.” He loves Dean and Cas fears that Dean doesn’t love him back.

- 13x5: Sam being worried about Dean who has given up all hope since Cas died.

- 13x5: Dean being so distressed thinking Cas is gone forever that he tries to kill himself

- 13x5: Dean seeing Cas alive again and they both have tears in their eyes.

- 13x6: Dean hugging Cas and saying he’s been gone for “too damn long”

- 13x6: Dean being immediately happier and nicer to everyone once Cas is back

- 13x6: Cas saying “Yes. Yes, he does” (in response to Jack saying Dean really likes cowboys) with the tone of an exhausted spouse.

- 13x6: “I told you, he’s an angry sleeper. Like a bear.”

- 13x6: Dean made Cas watch Tombstone with him.

- 13x6: Dean and Cas dresses like cowboy husbands.

- 13x6: Cas saying “I’m your huckleberry” to Dean in a deep accent and Dean looking away.

- 13x6: Their undercover names are Russel and Kilmer

- 13x14: The whole scene where Cas and Dean fight Gog/Magog and act like an old married couple.

- 13x14: The angry, dark look Cas gives Donatello when he tries to kill Dean

- 13x16: “Dean has him by the thigh!” Cas, jealously: “He ~what~?”

- 13x16: “and that includes the Cartwright twins.” Cas, again jealously: “what did you do with the Cartwright twins?”

- 13x19: Cas angrily confronting Naomi about forcing him to kill a bunch of Dean clones.

- 13x21: Cas secretly sliding Dean more pizza when Mary and Sam left the room.

- 13x21: Cas having to hold Dean back from going after Sam. Dean would have beat the shit out of anyone else who tried to stop him.

- 13x23: Cas trying to stop Dean from giving himself to Michael even if it meant losing Sam AND Jack

- 13x23: Cas sitting alone in the bum jet with tears in his eyes after Dean left

- 14x1: Demon: “How is it you lost Dean. I thought you two were joined at the... everything.”

- 14x1: Dean trying to save Cas from Lucifer then vs Cas trying to save Dean from Michael now

- 14x3: The look that Dean and Cas give each other when Dean comes home.

- 14x9: Cas almost being happy seeing Dean happy. And then having to force himself to not be happy so he doesn’t die.

- 14x12: Cas being phased at Dean for wanting to put himself in the box with Michael forever

- 14x14: Cas is the only Dean will let talk to him about Michael and be honest about how Dean feels

- 14x14: “No, it’s on us.”

- 14x14: Cas’s voice breaking when he talks about the possibility of Dean dying one day.

- 14x18: The pure self loathing in Cas’s eyes when he feels like he failed Dean by not telling him about Jack’s soul.

- 15x2: “You asked ‘what about all of this is real?’ We are.” THE MOST ROMANTIC LINE EVER. (Plus later Eileen and Sam have the same conversation but they get to kiss because homophobia)

- 15x9- 20:00 Dean said that they lost everyone they cared about, then added Cas specifically. Then he says “I had to bury him” not “we”

- 15x9- 23:00 Dean cries when he can’t find Cas. Then he prays to him and apologizes for letting him go. He falls to his knees praying to him and fully crying

- 15x12: “I created the world.” *shows Destiel*

- 15x15: This time when Dean sees Cas leaving the bunker, he stops him. (In reference to Cas saying “you didn’t stop me” when Dean got mad at him for leaving)

- 15x16: This is the the only version of Cas that rebelled for Dean. This universe is literally being saved repeatedly because of Cas’s love for Dean

- 15x18: CAS CONFESSES HIS LOVE TO DEAN then goes to mega hell for being gay

Anyway, Cas loves Dean and Dean LOVES HIM BACK, OKAY?!?!? Feel free to add more

[choptop-sawyer]

Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

[crossovereddie]

What if they get a call to the same street Eddie got shot?

The ride over is silent. Eddie sitting there just looking out the window. Buck staring at him while fidgeting with his fingers. Hen and Chim glancing at Eddie out of the corner of their eyes. Bobby looking back at them through the rearview mirror.

They arrive on the scene of a car accident. It’s not too serious but the driver is stuck in the car still.

Eddie is trying to stay focused but he keeps glancing over his shoulder every so often. Bobby sends him to get the jaws of life from the truck. Eddie hesitates at first because he’ll be right in the open but this is his job so he shakes it off.

Buck however stops what he’s doing (trying to calm the driver) and rushes off to Eddie. Bobby calls him back (“buck it’s not a two man job!”) but Buck doesn’t listen.

He sprints to Eddie and it’s obvious he’s trying to shield him with his own body. Eddie rolls his eyes saying “Buck I’m fine.” but Buck can tell he’s just as anxious as Buck is.

The whole time Eddie is using the jaws of life on the car door, Buck is hovering. Hen and Chim keep looking around at the buildings every so often. Bobby watches them all and starts praying to himself.

Finally they’re done and on their way back to the station and there’s a tension in the truck. When they’re pulling into the firehouse Bobby breaks the silence by announcing “family meeting in the loft.”

He gives them a speech along the lines of “I know every one of you was anxious. I was too but we have to keep it together though.”

Eddie chimes in “I hadn’t been back since and I know all of you could feel my nerves but it won’t happen again. Don’t worry about me”

This angers Buck “don’t worry about you? I watched you almost die, Eddie! I almost lost you! I mean..we almost lost you... how can you expect me to not worry?” Then he storms off.

Bobby goes after him and they have a heart to heart about losing a loved one and also how Bobby deals with Athena being put in dangerous situations everyday.

Meanwhile Eddie is fuming. He’s pacing in front of where Chim and Hen are still sitting on the couch.

“How does he think I feel? He’s put himself in danger ever since we met! Don’t even get me started on that stunt he pulled while I was unconscious in a hospital bed! I saw that video! He was out there in the open while a sniper was still targeting you?! Did he even stop and think about me? About Christopher?!”

Hen and Chim just sit there listening and glancing at one another because they really need to start taking bets for real this time.

[dotthings]

Let’s talk about why Dean dancing with a lamp is subtext, but it’s subtext that supports textual arcs. Dean dancing with a lamp is not random. Meta on why Dean dancing with a lamp is part of the build of a textual arc for Dean, thematically, which also connects to his relationship with Cas. This symbolic moment being tacitly about Destiel will only feel like reaching if you ignore context, ignore canon, ignore long arcing, ignore textual material surrounding it. This isn’t just me talking about a ship, this is an important arc for Dean himself emotionally and the way canon’s working, Cas has become the star player in this specific emotional Dean arc about yearning. 

Here are some canon quotes. I could just leave these here and not write another word of meta because the canon wrote it for me. But I’ve added some further commentary to spell out clearly what I’m getting at.

Dean in 8.14 “Trial and Error” by Andrew Dabb:

“You see a light at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel. I don't. But I tell you what I do know – it's that I'm gonna die with a gun in my hand. 'Cause that's what I have waiting for me – that's all I have waiting for me. I want you to get out. I want you to have a life – become a man of Letters, whatever. You, with a wife and kids and – and – and grandkids, living till you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra – that is my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get.”

Dean in 10.16 “Paint it Black” by Eugenie Ross-Lemming and Brad Buckner:

“You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it....Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.”

Sam and Dean in 11.04 “Baby” by Robbie Thompson:

SAM: Really? You don't . . . Ever want something more? DEAN: I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

Sam and Dean in 13.23 “Let the Good Times Roll” by Andrew Dabb:

DEAN: But on a beach somewhere, you know? Can you imagine? You, me, Cas, toes in the sand, couple of them little umbrella drinks. Matching Hawaiian shirts, obviously. Some hula girls. SAM: You talking about retiring? You? DEAN: If I knew the world was safe? Hell, yeah. And you know why? 'Cause we freaking earned it, man.

Sam and Dean in 15.08 “Our Father, Who Aren’t in Heaven” by Eugenie Ross-Lemming and Brad Buckner:

DEAN: Look, man, I didn't want to say anything, okay, 'cause I was kind of in in a bad place, and, uh, yeah, I didn't want to jinx it or whatever, but, you know, I tried the family thing, right? SAM: Yeah, me too. And that's not for us. DEAN: No, not really. But I'm just saying if it was to work, Eileen, you know, she gets it. She gets us. She gets the life. She's hot. SAM: Dean. I mean, I'm not even- DEAN: Look, all I'm saying is you- you could do worse, okay? And she could certainly do better. Like, so much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy.

Dean and Garth in 15.10 “The  Heroes’ Journey” written by Andrew Dabb:

DEAN: You know, I gotta say, aside from pincushion in there… this is pretty nice. GARTH: Yeah, better than I ever thought I'd get. I mean, hunting -- I figured I'd be dead before I'm 40. You know, go out young and pretty. But now I've got a great wife, great kids. I guess...sometimes things work out.

Dean in 15.10 “The Heroes’ Journey” by Andrew Dabb:

Dean, wistful, watching through the window as Garth and Bess dance: You know, I always thought I could be a good dancer if I wanted to be.

Ok, let those roll around in your brain for moment. 

Now: CONTEXT. CONTEXT. CONTEXT.

There’s this long running arc about maybe Sam and Dean could each find a significant other, not white picket fence, but...something, with someone already in the life, who gets their life. There’s Dean’s move from despairing and believing the only ending he could have, the only ending any hunter could have, is dying with a gun in hand, to Dean’s enthusiasm for the concept of retirement, Dean’s wistfulness about finding a significant other, for what he thinks he can’t have, and he starts the cycle all over again, if he can’t have it, then he wants Sam to have it, so Dean encourages Sam with Eileen. Saileen, the Dean-blessed, Dean-approved Sam ship. Dean ships it. And that is how the canon is trending, complete with Sam and Eileen kissing goodbye and saying “this is real” and even God himself saying their feelings were real, “that was all you,” even if God manipulated events around them. Which is an overt mirror to Dean and Cas and Dean’s expressly stated doubts about what’s real and what isn’t, and Cas telling Dean “we are.” 

Much the way Sam has been witness to Destiel, and has often pointed out Dean’s Cas feelings. Dean’s got a front row seat to Saileen and approves; Sam’s had a front row seat to Destiel and approves. 

Let’s throw in Robert Berens’ work in The Trap here, since that’s relevant to this specific topic as well, because why did Sam and Dean in the potential future timeline where they’d killed Chuck give up and cave in to their vampire instincts? The world being overwhelmed with monsters...and losing Eileen and losing Cas. It’s right there in the dialogue. I’ll give you the quote and everything:

Sam and Dean in 15.09 “The Trap” by Robert Berens:

SAM: You want to quit? What's happened to you, Dean? Ever since -- DEAN: Ever since what? We lost pretty much everyone we've ever cared about? Ever since the Mark made Cas go crazy? Ever since I had to bury him in a Ma'lak box? Ever since then? Yeah. You know why? 'Cause the monsters -- they're everywhere. Everywhere! What we do -- it's not even Hunting anymore. It's whack-a-mole. We don't even save people. Every friend we've ever had is either dead, or they got wise and they packed it in. SAM: Jody's still fighting, and Bobby -- DEAN: Bobby has a death wish, and you know it. And Jody -- ever since what happened to Donna and the girls, she does, too. And after Eileen... so do you.

“Ever since” Dean had to bury Cas in a Ma’lak box. “After Eileen...so do you.” 

So there’s this canonical long, long thread across multiple authors (and those weren’t even all the quotes, I’m sure people could dig up more) about Dean in particular yearning towards finding a significant other, some contentment, with someone who already is in the hunting life, who gets it, who understands.  

An episode that flat out shows how losing their significant others is the final straw that rips out Sam and Dean’s last will to fight, and they lose themselves, and after they’re turned into vampires, they just...give into the darkness. Where Sam gives up their shot at destroying the big bad because losing everyone they love is too high a cost. Where losing Cas makes Dean lose hope, where losing Eileen sends Sam into a death wish mindset. Sam and Dean don’t just need each other. That’s not canon, it never has been.

And then right after that, along comes meta episode The Heroes’ Journey. Sorry if you don’t like The Heroes’ Journey, but it’s what the canon did, it’s textual, along with everything else I’ve pointed out here, and in among the crackish humor are some real emotional narrative points. 

In The Heroes’ Journey, Dean gets to see Garth’s life. Garth found his significant other, Bess, and she’s another werewolf. Now, Garth’s life resembles the traditional white picket fence idea a lot more than what Team Free Will are headed for. Garth has a big house with a porch, and he’s a dentist. He’s also a werewolf and his wife is a werewolf and his kids are werewolves because Bess is a pureblood werewolf, Garth didn’t exactly leave the life, and he helps Sam and Dean on a case. But nothing’s been indicating to me that anyone in Team Free Will is headed for that kind of settling down, with a house, becoming a dentist. However, the canon has been practically shouting now, as we near final episodes of SPN, to make the point about a desirable outcome--some kind of stability, contentment, and a significant other. Dean gets a front row seat to seeing a hunter can have that. Garth’s a hunter who turned into a werewolf and he can have that. 

When EP’s talk about how they aren’t headed for a white picket fence or driving off into the sunset or settling down, none of that rules out them finding...something...with someone, and some form of stability and contentment.  Nope, I can’t really imagine them in the suburbs becoming dentists. But canon sure is putting up big neon arrows to...something. Think outside the box. This isn’t about the white picket fence. 

And in The Heroes’ Journey, Dean, conked out on the good gas so Garth can fix his teeth, has a trippy dream where he dances with a lamp.

Rewatch the ep. Look at how the dance is choreographed not just the use of light, because that’s a clue too. The whole dance could have been Dean and Garth being dancing bros, but Garth fades off the stage, and Dean dances alone...until he grabs the standing lamp. In a season where Dean and Cas’s relationship is an A-plot, define it how you like, it’s A-plot. Their breakup and their reconciliation, which played like a marital breakup and reconciliation, are tied to major mytharc beats. In a season where a long-running textual theme about Dean’s developing hope for retirement and his wistfulness about “things...people...feelings...” is getting further play. Where Dean and Cas’s relationship continues to be one of the show’s most central ones.

Dean dances with a lamp. While his emotionally fraught, intense close relationship with Cas--A BEING MADE OF LIGHT--has a long-running arc and recently more and more textual level content spelling out the sublimated romantic interest in small words, while there’s an arc about Dean’s yearning for that stability, contentment, a significant other.

CONTEXT. 

We don’t think Destiel’s “going canon” because Dean dances with a lamp, it’s that Dean dancing with a lamp is kinda loud serving as reflection of canon textual arcing. Sometimes subtext adds a layer. Sometimes subtext is directly tied to the surface layers, an echo, a highlighter.

I’ll just be over here, crying because Dean danced with a lamp.

[thekillingjoke-haha]

Just You And Me

Summary: Sam and Dean are on there second hunt to find John. They need help from the one person who hates Wendigos the most Y/n Winchester

Prequel to What's Worse Then Wednesday?

Ten years ago John had his first encounter with a wendigo a family went hiking with a full group of fifteen and no one has came down from the mountain in almost a month. Having asked a more experienced hunter John wrote down things he needed to remember as he went up the mountain a bag with Molotov ,lighters,and flare-up. It took almost a week to find the small mine shaft his brown eyes widened at the seen. Male and female limps were torn of and only some still had enough meat and clothing to be identifiable. Some bodies were on hook that resembled mountain climbing gear. None of them moved except for one. Stepping closer a six year old girl was hanging from her binder wrist her eyes look into his scared before gazing over down a tunnel a thick trail of blood went down it as tears spilled down her face. "Mommy and Daddy are gone. I next." Her voice cracked and a unhuman beastly type growl echoed. "I'm gonna get you out of here, darling." That's how John Winchester met his adoptive daughter Y/n.

Its been seven years since then and the little family the Winchester's made for themselves was falling apart. It broke John's heart that he pushed away his youngest son when he wanted a way out of this life, but when his adoptive daughter wanted to hunt more big league he almost blew a fuse. Y/n was young really fucking young to be hunting on her own,but it could have been worse she could have cut off contact with John and Dean. Now two years later John's missing and the siblings need each other.

The h/c teenager hissed as she cleaned the deep cuts on her shoulder looking into the bathroom mirror. A fucking blood suckered clawed at her shoulder taking advantage of the other two she beheaded. The burner phone on the back of the toilet rings as she grabbed it putting it between her ear and none injured shoulder. "Kinda busy Dean-o." She mumbled slipping the antibacterial cream in the cuts making the surface pink. "Dad went on a hunt and hasn't been back yet. I got a call last night and it sounds Ike somethings under it." He said the sound of baby let be know he's in the car. "Send it over to me and I'll have it back to you by the hour. You leaving New Orleans?" She ask starting to Butterfly stitch closing up the cuts. "Yeah left about two hours ago heading to California." Pausing and shacking her head. "No no no no no! You're not involving Sammy! He got out the life let him stay away and safe." Y/n finished up wrapping her shoulder as she walked out the bathroom to put on a shirt. "I need to,n/n. I won't keep him long we are just gonna check out the place dad was last at. The question is are you coming." Licking her lips she sighed. "I can't I'm in New York right now just took care of a nest in Brooklyn. I won't make it cross country for a couple of weeks." Dean let out a heavy breath. "I know,but I also know you're avoiding Sammy." Maybe the youngest wasn't the only one heart broken after one of her protectors,her best friend left in a huff and hasn't answered a single call.

The silence was drawn out as Dean's phone buzzed against his ear. "There your voice-mail put it through a gold wave. Sounds like a vengeful spirt bring rock salt for the shotgun." Dean chuckled. "Thanks baby sis...wait did you put me on mute to ignore me!?You bit—" That's when the line went dead. The h/c girl giggled as she layed on the stiff musty motel mattress. Her eyes closed,but her mind ran ramped.

The woods they were dark and seemed to loom over her. It was so quite no sound came from anywhere not even the wind dared blow. Crying filled the the air it was that of a child. It grew closer till it disappeared all together the claw marks on the trees marked the familiar place the blood soaked leaves crunched behind her causing the teen to go stiff. She knew what was behind her it was the same thing in every dream for ten convective years even if she knew her body wouldn't allow her to act she was that same scared little girl paralyzed as the horror show continued. The creature yelled,but it echoed in all directions. "HELP US!" Dean and Sam's voices shocked her awake her body pinned in fear as she looked at the Wendigo on top of her. It successfully restricting movement if her whole upper body. Blinking hard it was gone and air filled her lungs like rushing water. It meant nothing...nothing at all.

It's been almost a two weeks since Dean's call. He often text since Sam tried to high jack his phone last time he tried calling. Sam and Y/n didn't exactly end on the best of notes. "Come with me." Sammy looked at a younger Y/n who shook her head. "No. I can't leave dad and Dean. Not like this." The dust has settled after the heated argument between father and son and the rules were clear the moment he walked out those doors he stayed gone. "Don't call him that." His mood seemed to shift back to angry,but something else was there. "Call him what? Dad?" The young girl was confused now. "He's not your dad." It wasn't a secret that Sam harbored negative feeling against his sister they were never anything serious,but he still somewhat loved her just not like a sister. "You're not apart of this family you can get away,but no you're going to stay here and become their weakness!" He points at John and Dean who were just behind her. "I'm not a weakness! I got their back like they've got mine. That's what's family's for!!!" She shouted her eyes welling with tears not letting them fall,but they slip out at his next words. "Your family is dead! Did you save them then?! Maybe if you did we wouldn't be stuck with you!!!" The room was still no one dared breathed Dean stared wide eyed at his baby brother as John grew tense grasping the neck of his beer bottle in a vise grip while same looked like a deer in headlights. A sniffle brought the three men's attention to the girl. Tears streamed down her face before she used a open palm to whip her face dry. "Just go. Cause that's what you do best you runaway from your problems and wait til Dad or Dean can fix it." The thirteen year old snapped at him as she pushed on him as he just stumbled back. "You're nothing,but a coward and a pathetic one at that. I don't want to loss the little family I got for myself you're so willing to walk away from them it shows how different we are...nothing,but two strangers." He stood in the doorways as the h/c teen grabbed his packed duffle bag and threw it into his torso making him fall to the ground.. "So just FUCKING LEAVE!!!" With that she slammed the door shut. What Sam couldn't see as he drove away from the dingy motel was the mess he left behind. A father struggling to keep his kids safe,a brother torn between hunting and normalice,and lastly a adoptive sister that can't help,but be different. Sam Winchester left his family in a worse state then imaginable.

Sitting in bed I looked at my phone hoping it rang or buzzed with a incoming message that said they were fine. Y/n jumped as the screen lit up the name Batman lighting the screen. "About fucking time you jackass!" Her words were harsh,but the relief filled her voice. "Yeah we just got out of Stanford campus heading to .... now." Dean said the sound of cars and wind slightly muffled his voice. "H-how's Sam after...after you know?" One thing that Winchester’s hated was emotions and even if they weren't blood she grew up the same. Nature and nurture going toe to toe. "I don't know. You can always ask him yourself you know." The h/c teen laughed as she ran her hand down her face. "Dean-o he's the same shaggy haired asshole that said I wasn't family. I'll give him a chat when we're cheek to cheek in hell." And another thing Winchester’s sure knew how to hold on to a fucking grudge. "God you sound like Bobby said if he ever saw dad again he'd be looking down his shotgun barrel." They both chuckled as the faint sound of a ding of a convince store rang out. "Well tell Samantha same goes for him." She picked her nails as she decided to get up. "What are you morons hunting anyways did dads ex-marine crap give you a clue?" The crunch a gravel on the line grew louder. "It just had coordinates,my name,and a note saying safe place with your name." Dean opened the car door and got inside as Sam approached him. "I don't know Dean I don't have a safe place in the middle of nowhere so keep me updated,Batsy." Sam looked over at Dean who switched hands to the furthest from his brother. "Copy that talk later,Robin." That's when the keep away match started.

"Dude what the hell I want to talk to Y/n." Sam huffed as his brother closed the flip phone dropping it on the floorboards next to his feet. "Your chances of talking to her are zero to none,man. Sammy she'll talk to you when she's ready." Dean sighs as he starts the car. The youngest huffed he will admit he was a shitty brother that night and everyday following he didn't like it,but he ignored her calls for a months till they just stopped.At first he was still heated,heated, he felt guilty,then he was too busy. Sam tried calling,but it disconnected immediately meaning she blocked him. He thought he'd see her when Dean broke in but finding out she's been taking her own hunts scared him shitless. And from what Dean told him she started after the first month she trained harder taking own bigger hunts with Dad before doing normal ones alone. Sam realized by leaving he took away her only need for normalice,her want to have something other then hunting. He took her slice of the apple pie for himself.

The brothers were in the fucking woods in jeans and flannels walking with a makeshift search party for a missing kid. They were in a abandoned campsite after they lost their supplies. The signal was shot and Dean's phone was useless in most areas. He sent a text as it waited for any signal to send. "' Going in the woods with unknown creature. You know the coordinates I'll call if we need you'" That was a bit of a lie. He knew what it was before nightfall,but he didn't want her to have a panic attack he wouldn't be there to help her. The guide Roy? shot blindly in the woods after something rustled and growled like no animal. The boys ran after him as he got snatched up into the treeline which made them quickly escape back to the camp. As Haley and her brother Ben slept Dean had first watch they weren't prepared and this was the last creature he wanted his sister to hunt. Not after last time.

Dean was on a hunt with Dad and Y/n while Sammy stayed at uncle Bobby's for exam week or some shit. John never told them what they were hunting they had to discover it themselves. The hunt that was suppose to last three days,but took almost a week the tried tracking it yet nothing came up,but more missing persons. The trio decided they'd go back into the national park when it was daylight again,but they didn't need to wait that long. That night they slept Y/n sharing the bed with Dean as dad slept in the bed to the right of them it was probably the quietest night they've every had so the fact that something breezed in under their noses scares them most. Dean rolled out of the bed to the bathroom closing the door after he turned on the light it illuminated the pale skinned beast in the corner. It creeper closely to the only adult in the room gazing at his body before turning to the smaller figure in the bed breathing evenly. It crept onto the bed leaning over her body the old motel mattress creaked as it settled onto her. The weight of the creature was crushing causing her breath to come out in a hissing wheeze as her e/c eyes opened before they filled with shock. Going to scream the crushing weight on her chest pushed all the air out along with breaking a few ribs. Her hand wiggled out from under him as she wiggled her arm to hit the lamp off the table it broke onto the ground and John shot up with his gun and Dean busted out of the bathroom both froze before jumping into action the young boy running to get a lighter while John shot at it just to get it away from Y/n. The boney supernatural creature screeched getting up allowing the girl to try and roll out of the bed it struck her back blood soaked her clothing as she fell coughing roughly knowing the fall made one of the ribs stab into her lungs. The males in the room were able to set the monster ablaze quickly getting out of the room John holding his daughter. Y/n was in shock like many victims they've seen that monster was her nightmare and it casual gazed at her having the ability to kill her at any moment. After going to the hospital she stayed at Bobby's for almost a month to recover physically and mentally. Wendigos are her yellow eyes.

The next day as the followed the tracks of the Wendigo a sigh left Dean's lips as he tried to call her it rung for awhile before dial tone at least it went through,but she must have been busy. About to hand up the girl took off running after the beast made itself know Dean ran to keep up with her Sam yelling for him to wait as he stayed with her brother. She managed to trip as he went to pick her up he was hit over the head as she screamed for help as he started fading in and out and the voice-mail ended with Cries of help.

Y/n sat in her car waiting for a update text form Dean she started driving close to where he was,but didn't involve herself yet she almost got a room at the motel when her phone buzzed with a text. It was a update to come if he ever called to head over and help with a thankful sigh she back tracked from the motel and went to the dinner as she left her 0gonw on the table to order food it vibrated with a incoming call. One missed call and a voice-mail. As she grabbed her bagged lunch she grabbed the stuff off the table going back to her car as she got in the driver's seat she opened her phone to see a missed call and a voice-mail. Dean never sends voice-mails so Y/n opened it and she almost broke her foot as she hit the pedal to get to the woods. "Dean wait up~*crackle of leaves and grunts*~Come on we gotta ge—~*Female Screams followed by a thud*~ DEAN!!! *Inhuman roar before cut off*" Y/n almost had a panic attack in the car,but the adrenaline made her move faster that was sent five minutes ago. Taking a deep breath she began calling any hunter supernatural or not that knew the area well enough. "Hello?" "Hey this is the ARIA. I'm F/n F/L/N you have been hunting in the area for forty years are there any identifying landmarks within those woods? So incase of emergency?" The old man happily spoke about clearings,cabins on the edge,river,and a abounded mineshaft and where they were. She quickly thanked the man before hanging up she pulled out a satellite gps as she got looked over were she needed to go. Grabbing a backpack she loaded it with everything she needed as she took off into the wood watch as she got closer and closer with each click.

Sam's eyes fluttered open as he grabbed his bearings. Dean was next to him which mean he got captured not long after Dean and got taken. Haley,Ben,and Tommy were to the right of him they were stuck as he tried to move or at least hit Dean and wake him up. His brothers eyes sluggishly opened as he looked around before turning back to Sam in shock. The heavy foot steps creeped closer as the half clothes supernatural being looked down at them even though they were hanging on meat hooks. It moved down the line of people about to grab Tommy when a soft cry echoed in the cave. It turned around and listened closely. The brothers strained their ears to hear what it was. The Wendigo sprinted off to investigate when something else came into the Winchester’s view. Y/n stood infront of her brothers mud,sticks,and leaves on her body to mask her sent. Walking forward with a knife she cut Dean down before doing the same for Sam. The oldest went to cut down the siblings as Sam stopped his sister. "Y/n how did you get here? You shouldn't be here the monster is a—" She cut him off with a anxious smile in her face. "A Wendigo I know,but you guys needed a hero so I'm here." Dean came over to them as he stood next to his taller brother. "Sammy's right though,N/n. You got to get out of here after what happened last time. This thing is different from the last one it won't sit still for us to shoot it." He had a point, but he knew that was years ago he was still scared he couldn't protect her. "I got this I can defend myself. Get these people out of her I can distract the man eater." Handing them both a flare guns She turned towards the opposite tunnel the beast went into. "That leads straight to a river follow the flow and after it stops you're only two miles from Baby." About the protest they hear a growl. Y/n quickly sprinted further into the cave making enough noise to cover them escaping.

"OH OH HERS SHE COMES WATCH OIT BOYS SHE'LL CHEW YOU UP! OH OH HERE SHE COMES SHES A MAN EATER!!!" She sung running lighting flares leaving a trail as she ventured deeper. Y/n pulled the rubber top igniting another about to drop it when a snarl came form behind her. "Well hello beastie." She didn't turn around evening her breathing before spinning. The red light illuminated the monster in a devilish glow she wasn't a scared little girl anymore she was a Winchester and Winchester’s chase after their demons. "Just you and me now." A roar sounded throughout the damp cave. The boys turn to look back they both wanted to run back,but both of them would have pit her in more danger they were injured and a extra body to look after would put her at risk. They saw the orange hue of flames and the sound of glass breaking. Standing anxiously waiting for her to come out they were thrown back by the force of a explosion pressurized by the small space. The rock of the cave entrance was about to crumble when a head of h/c hair running out with a limp as it collapsed dust clouded the scene before them they could tell if she even got out until it settled. The youngest Winchester stumbled forward as she smiled at her brothers blood coming from her head and her split lip. "That was awesome. I did a Indian John's." Dean ran as fast as he could capturing her in a bone crushing hug. "Do some shit like that again I'll kill you then myself." She giggled as she hugged him back. "Sorry can't hear you. Explosion ya know deafening me." Y/n joked as her brother pulled away from the hug. Sam walked over slowly almost testing the waters. "Hey Y/n." He said shaky as he looked down at her. She's grown alot since last time he saw her she had more scarred and hard exterior. "Heya Sam." Her e/c orbs looked up at him they were uneasy as she smiled at him before hugging her as well. "I missed you,Jackass." Her voice was muffled by his shirt as he returned the hug. Their relationship will never be the same they both had Dean as a buffer between them,but for right now in this moment it was just the two of them Just you and me against the world.

[holylulusworld]

Paid

Request: Have you ever considered writing a mafia!reader x Dean? like maybe he need more money to help Sam in school but what he earn isn't enough so he start to hustle at pool but then he plays one of her men and when they took him to her, she doesn't punish him because she remember he and Sam were the only one not afraid to be her friends in school. She gives him one of her clean activity so he can help Sam and stay safe. I think it would be an interesting scenario to see 

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Mobster!Reader; Sam Winchester x Ruby ‘the dame’ Demon

Characters: Bobby Singer

Warnings: angst, language, mobster business, fluff, implied smut, secret relationship, I mention the word sex slave (in a funny conversation)

A/N: Please excuse the awful mobster nicknames. 😉; Gabriel and Gadreel are brothers for my story. (Please consider their surname, just like Ruby’s as a joke)

Part 3/3 - Catch up here:

Part 1 - Debts

Part 2 - Interest

Divider by @firefly-graphics

“Fuck,” someone growls next to your room, moaning audibly. The female seems to enjoy herself and you wonder if Dean had the guts to bring a random girl into your house. It’s not as if you are in a relationship but you will not tolerate he disrespects you. “Harder,” the woman now orders, and you switch the light on.

Angrily clenching your jaw, you get out of your bed to storm toward your door, muttering under your breath.

“I will kill him,” ripping your door open you walk toward the room you offered to Dean only to bump into your mechanic, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, pointing toward the room his baby brother inherits during the Christmas holiday. “I told Sammy to not bring any girl here.”

“Ah, yeah,” you huff, relieved it wasn’t Dean who brought a girl to your home. “Uh-while we are awake at 3 am how about we get a snack?” you offer, giggling as Dean’s eyes drift toward your chest. “We still got some pie left.”

“I always liked Garfield,” humming to himself, his eyes still glued to the shirt you are wearing, he licks his lips. “Do you have matching shorts too?”

“Careful, Winchester,” sliding your hand into his large palm you lead Dean down the stairs. “I can still not share the pie with you.”

“Did I mention I’m sorry Sammy brought a random chick to your home? He’s young, just broke up with his girlfriend or she with him,” scratching his scruffy chin Dean shrugs. “Young love – huh?”

“Ya know, when I was young, like Sam-,” you giggle, acting as if you are elder than you are. “Back then, things were easier.”

“I remember clearly,” Dean nods, huffing as the door to the kitchen flings open.

Sam steps inside, grinning cheekily, followed by the girl he brought home.

“RUBY?” gasping you watch Ruby smirk when she leads her lover inside your kitchen. “What did I tell you about seducing Dean’s brother?” you scold, laughing as your friend shrugs, a dirty grin on her lips.

“Look at him,” she swoons, sliding her hand over Sam’s chest, making the tall man shiver at her touch. “He’s so tall and handsome. I can climb up at him and he, well he can manhandle me the way he wants to,” she turns her head toward you, giving you a wink, “and I let him, Y/N. Thrice…”

“I think I just lost my appetite,” choking on his pie Dean shudders. “Sammy, you are here for Holidays, not to break more hearts.”

“She jumped at me, Dean,” Sam defends, mirroring your friend's grin. “Ruby is a bad girl, so demanding and tiny.” now you shudder as Sam looks down at Ruby, shamelessly roaming her body with his eyes.

“I warned you, Y/N. You knew when Dean brings his brother in my territory there is a high risk I’ll just snatch him out of his hands and do dirty things with him,” Ruby coos. “Look at him. His girlfriend broke his heart, and he needs someone to help him ease the pain.”

“They are shameless,” muttering Dean whispers in your ear. “How about we eat the pie in my room and plan how to survive seeing my brother half-naked with your friend.”

“Deal-“

“Christmas is close, and you are a free man now,” humming Dean closes the trunk of the last car he repaired while still in your debts. ”Just saying boy, it’s not too late to run. I don’t want to lose the best mechanic I ever had, but Y/N’s kind of business is not for you.”

“I signed a contract and-“ watching you walk toward him Dean smiles, sighing dreamily as you are wearing a red plaid, matching his. He gave it to you to thank you for your kindness, hoping you’ll like it.

“Nice new shirt, kiddo,” Bobby watches you and Dean warily. “Ah balls, kids,” lifting his cap Bobby mutters under his breath. “Does anyone know yet?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” swallowing thickly Dean looks at Bobby, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Let’s have lunch and talk about Holidays or something.”

“You are wearing matching clothes. The hickey on your neck tells me someone gave you a bit too much attention and,” Bobby laughs when you poorly try to hide the grin on your lips, “my kiddo looks like a love-sick teen next to you.”

“Bobby, don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, looking over your shoulder, not missing Gadreel and Benny watch your every step. “Gadreel still doesn’t like Dean and I want to make sure he’s safe.”

“Sooner or later people will find out you are dating your mechanic, Y/N. I can protect him while he’s at work, but not all the time. If you want this man,” huffing Bobby looks at Dean, before he pinches the bridge of his nose, “you must clarify he’s yours. Like your father would’ve done.”

“I’m not my father,” you quip. “I told you that I’ll not claim someone to make sure he’s-“

“Kiddo, if you clarify Dean is yours, everyone will stay the fuck away from your man. No one will dare to touch a hair on his head, you know it.”

“But-“ sputtering the word you nod, looking at the man right in front of you, wearing a matching plaid. “You are right, Bobby. If I want Dean to be safe, I’ll have to make my claim on him known.”

“Claim?” cocking his head Dean laughs nervously. “Will you just ‘take me’ right in front of the people? How does this work?”

“I will declare you are my man, parade around town with you. We need to be seen and my men will spread the word. I would’ve asked Ruby for help but she’s busy screwing your brother’s brain out,” your face stoic you try to explain the consequences of your relationship to Dean.

“Don’t mention Ruby and Sammy-“ shuddering Dean looks at you, frowning as he can see a single tear run down your cheek. “What’s wrong? I’m up to this whole claiming thing, promised. I got no problem if anyone knows we are a pair.”

“Dean, you’ve got no clue what this means to you and your life. Everyone will know you are mine-“ sniffling you hate you are not a normal woman, living a normal life. “This would ruin you and your reputation. Not to mention it would effect Sam’s life too.”

“Yeah-and?” cocking a brow Dean looks at you. “Sammy is a grown man and he just started to have an affair with one of your most trusted people.”

“When she says you are hers, Y/N means it. All the people in town, everyone you have ever known will hear that you are in her debts and that’s the reason she made you her lover,” Bobby tries to reason with Dean, failing miserably.”

“Like a sex slave?” a dirty grin on his lips Dean looks at you. “Right? They will think you forced me into your bed to pay my debts. Uh-dirty. Do you want me to have your name on my ass or shoulder?”

“Dean, this isn’t funny,” stepping closer you cup Dean’s cheek, softly pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “I want you to have a good and fulfilled life. With me, you’ll never be free.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be free, not if it means living without you, sweetheart,” Dean presses his lips to yours, swallows all your protests. “I don’t care how – as long as we can be together.”

“We are going to marry,” Ruby exclaims, snickering when Dean’s mouth falls open. “Sam wants to be my husband sooner than later.”

“Ruby, stop giving my boyfriend a heart attack. It’s Christmas and not nice of you to do so,” you scold. “I hope you used condoms, kids. We don’t want little Ruby’s run around the house.”

“Aw, we wanted to have three or four kids,” laughing at Dean’s pained expression Ruby sits next to Sam, grinning widely. “I was just joking. I can assure you we acted like responsible young people.”

“Why is she here during Christmas again?” Dean whispers in your ear.

“Just like me, Ruby got no family left. All of her friends work for me and are with their families over Christmas, well except for the ones protecting us. But they work in shifts, so everyone has a day off for Christmas.”

“You’re a good boss,” Sam looks around the large living room, admiring the Christmas tree you chose this year. “Dad never got a Christmas tree.”

“I do it every year. It’s the only good thing I remember when I think about my father. He got the prettiest tree for my mom and me before he decided to file for divorce and sent us away,” you sniff, holding Dean’s gaze.

“Dad was a hard man, but I try to remember the good things, not his bad habits,” Dean mumbles. “I understand very well how you feel, Y/N.”

“That’s nice,” humming silently you watch the fire die in the fireplace in your bedroom. “I could get used to having you in my arms for the rest of my life, Y/N.” Dean tries, carefully bringing your relationship up again.

“Dean, we’ve talked about this. If we make it official, there is no turning back. The moment you break up with me or leave me for someone else, you are fair game. This is nothing I want for you,” sniffling you hide your face in Dean’s neck, wetting his skin with your tears.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want someone else or to leave. My mom used to say that when you find the right person, your person,” pecking your hair Dean sighs deeply, “you feel like you belong, you feel like coming home.”

“Coming home,” lifting your head to meet Dean’s eyes you fight to blink the tears away. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“I feel like that around you, Y/N. Whenever you are with me, it feels like home. I don’t care if anyone believes I owe you shit. All I want is to be with you, no matter what.”

“You sure, Dean?”

“Damn sure,” smiling you hold Dean’s gaze. “I don’t want to leave or find someone else. Please don’t shut me out, baby girl.”

“You feel like home to me too,” kissing him softly you smile against Dean’s lips. “Good thing you paid your debts, or your ass would be all mine-“

“I’m all yours, Y/N. Every part of me…”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx

@screechingartisancashbailiff

@fallen-wolf22

@sister-winchesters99

@mogaruke

@the-is13

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@lady-pswrld

@thinkaboutmara

@coldmuffinbanditshoe

@suckmyapplejacks

@princesssterek

@lexy586

@notbrooklynsblog

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

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@spnfamily-j2

@supernatural-bellawinchester

@negans-lucille-tblr

@deans-baby-momma​

@thefaithfulwriter​

@squirrelnotsam​

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@multisuperfandom​

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@tranquility-or-chaos​

@jxackles​

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@nihilismworld​

@peaches007​ 

@thoughts-and-funnies​

@lyarr24​ 

@givecki​

@beabutterfly987​

@deandreamernp​

[eternally-writing]

chain reaction 02 | jjk

genre: fluff and angst 

rating: PG 

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: college!au , enemies to lovers, series 

word count: 4.6k

warnings: light swearing

synopsis: A semester with your mortal enemy, Jeon Jungkook, as your lab partner was bound to be an experience to remember. 

banner by me!

read part 1 here! 

 If you want to be tagged in future parts, send me an ask! 

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

When you had imagined what Jeon Jungkook’s apartment would look like, you had definitely thought it would look something like an evil lair (except messy, because Jungkook definitely struck you as the messy type). 

However, upon stepping into his surprisingly well-finished apartment, you found the exact opposite case. Before this, you had planned to make a ton of jokes based on whatever you would find in Jungkook’s apartment. And the truth was, you still could. 

Jeon Jungkook was an absolute neat freak. You watched the way he subtly shuddered as a fleck of dirt from your shoes travelled off of his doormat and you took note of how his kitchen counter was so clean you could probably eat directly off of it (which was especially rare from someone in college). If he had a roommate, there was no trace of him right now, as the apartment pretty much looked like a showhome.

“I didn’t know you were such a clean freak, Jeon,” you said with a smirk.

For the first time, you saw Jeon Jungkook look the slightest bit timid. 

“I like to keep things tidy, I guess,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. 

He gestured for you to enter his quaint but somehow spacious living room as he sped to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water (he may not like you, but he’d be damned by his mother if she found out he let a guest into his place without giving them a beverage).

You had a very clear game plan when it came to entering Jeon Jungkook’s apartment: Enter. Talk about the project (and nothing else). Grab the chemistry notes from the class you missed on Monday. Leave. 

It definitely seemed like an easy peasy 4 step plan  -  except that all seemed to flow out the window once you saw the photo Jungkook kept on his coffee table. From what you could decipher, it looked like a high school aged Jungkook in a music studio, right in front of the mic, with some of his friends around him. You had never seen Jungkook smile as big as he was in that picture, and it even managed to pull at your heartstrings.

Before you could open your mouth to ask about it, Jungkook had already come over to you and slammed the picture to be face down on the table, leaving smiley high school Jungkook out of sight. 

“An invitation into my apartment isn’t an invitation into my private life, Y/N. Don’t get it twisted.” he said coldly, dropping the glass of water hashly onto a coaster by the picture frame. 

To be fair, you kind of deserved that (and looking into Jungkook’s personal life definitely wasn’t part of your 4 step plan to seeing him today), but he didn’t have to be that mean.  As a peace offering you moved as far away from the photo frame as you could.

“Let’s just get this over with, Jeon. I have a pilates class in an hour on the other side of campus.”

Now Jungkook couldn't pass up that opportunity to make a joke. 

“Pilates, mmm.”  He let out an overexaggerated moan to make his point. 

“ Think you can slip my number to the hot girls there Y/N,” said Jungkook with a smirk. 

“In your dreams Jeon. You’re lucky if any girls will still want your number if you fail organic chemistry, which is what you’re going to do if we don’t work on this project.”

“I think you’re forgetting Y/N.” he said as he bent down, bringing his lips to your ear - “if I go down I’m taking you with me sunshine”. 

Ignoring how his close proximity to you was making your heart race (it was probably due to anger, right??), you jumped away from him and pulled out your macbook.

“Our group contract is due tomorrow so let’s just finish that up and then I’ll be out of your hair okay?” you said with an air of desperation and potentially sexual frustration.

For the most part, you and Jungkook worked in silence besides the occasional sound of you typing or clearing your throat. Looking at the live google doc in front of you and the progress you both were making, you were starting to think that working with Jungkook might not be the worst thing in the world. 

Jeon Jungkook and Y/N L/N : CHEM 251 LAB PRESENTATION CONTRACT

Topic - Green Chemistry 

1. Answer all communication from your partner (emails, messages) within 24 hours

2. Complete all portions of assignments at least 1 day before it is due. 

3. Any changes to your availability should be communicated to your partner. 

4. Y/N will handle the background literature and introduction of the presentation. 

5. Jungkook will look for future applications of Green Chemistry and direct applications of course material in the field of Green Chemistry. 

6. Don’t fall in love with your partner. 

As soon as you saw Jungkook type the last point on the document, you glared at him beside you on the couch. 

“Seriously Jeon? I forgot you have the mindset of a 13 year old boy,” you muttered as he looked at you cockily. 

You took a deep breath as your internal monologue started to run: 

Okay, Y/N. you’re not here to let Jeon Jungkook mess with you. 3 strikes and you’re out of here - there’s no reason to need to keep up with his bullshit (especially since at least the first part of your project was over).

Jungkook had then had to add more rules to your group contract. 

7. Y/N will give out Jungkook’s number to any hot girl at her pilates class. 

You groaned and hastily deleted off the document. 

That was strike 1 for Jungkook. 3 strikes and he’s out. 

Jungkook was still relentless in his attacks. 

“Seriously though Y/N, do you really not think I’m attractive at all? You really don’t want a piece of this?,” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows and gestured to his body all too suggestively. 

“Cut it out Jeon, I’m not dealing with your shit today,” you hissed, your eyes shooting metaphorical lasers into Jungkook. 

Strike 2: He’s getting close. 

“C’mon Y/N, what’s the chance that you’ll ever be able to bag someone as hot as me. I mean, look at me and look at you!”

Strike 3: you were DONE  with Jeon Jungkook today.

Not even stopping to put on your shoes fully, you took one last glance back at him before you walked out the door. 

“Fuck you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The glass of water he got you sat untouched on his coffee table, drops of water spilling onto the photo frame beside it due to his apartment shaking from you slamming his door.

Mirroring the new droplets on his coffee table, you found tears starting to drop across your face as well. 

--♡--

Even though you loved your chemistry lecture, you’re not sure why chemistry labs had such a bad vibe to you. The most obvious explanation for this would be having Jeon Jungkook as a lab partner (especially after your last meeting, the situation speaks for itself). But what could be is probably at least part of the reason is because of what happened in your first year 8AM chem lab. After getting through a grueling 3 hour titration (that you messed up and got no results for in the end), you walked back to your dorm to find your (now ex) boyfriend Jimin in bed with your roommate, Soomi. 

Needless to stay you left that day with one less friend, no boyfriend (and you had also gotten 16/30 on that lab… yikes), so chemistry labs did leave a little bit of a bad taste in your mouth. 

It had been months since that incident, but even after getting a new lease and cutting any ties you remotely had to Jimin, you still carried the insecurity that Jimin instilled in you by cheating on you with someone who you thought of as a sister. 

You had yet to run into Jimin against post-breakup, and had managed to successfully avoid him, until now.

“Y/N?” 

You knew that voice all too well. Turning around, you were met with the sight of your ex, Jimin. As if that wasn’t bad enough, as you looked him over you noticed your old roommate, Soomi, hanging off of his arm. You had no clue that they were still together (you had lost all contact with anyone remotely related to Jimin), and somehow seeing them together hurt you even more. 

Jimin looked even prettier than you had last remembered him; his prince-like hair shone in the afternoon sun, his charming smile seemed even brighter. Knowing Jimin was still with Soomi made you feel that he didn’t even feel a pang of regret for cheating on you, like he didn’t need to take some time by himself to reflect (like you definitely did) or stop to grieve your relationship. From your point of view, it seemed like you never even mattered to Jimin. 

You suddenly felt self conscious of everything under the judgmental gazes of Jimin and Soomi. Those baby hairs that you didn’t bother to pin down with a bobby pin this morning now felt like they were sticking straight out of your head and the pimple that was poking through your concealer on your forehead suddenly felt like a volcano. In your mind, compared to Soomi, you looked like a hot mess.

Your brain was on autopilot for all the small-talk you made with the two of them, and you didn’t snap out of your trance until you heard these words from Jimin. 

“I only wish the best for you Y/N”

You internally scoffed at this statement. Who the fuck was Park Jimin to say that he “wishes the best for you”. You took months to get over him and the hurtful words he said to you. Every mean comment and snarky comparisons he made to you felt like it was tattooed onto your skin and stuck with you forever. But now he was standing in front of you like nothing was wrong?

In a different world, you probably would’ve slapped Jimin across the face. But instead you rose above like your mom taught you to. 

“You as well Jimin.” you said courtly with a nod, trying to stop the tears that were pricking at your eyes from escaping your tear ducts. 

After receiving a small nod from Jimin as a response, you turned around as if you had somewhere to be (in reality, you didn’t have class for another 2 hours).

Getting as far away from Jimin was all you could think about at the moment, and you moved as far as your legs could take you in whatever direction you thought would take you out of your college’s quad, even as the tears falling from your eyes blurred your vision.

You didn’t know how to feel. You had imagined what seeing Jimin for the first time after the break up would look like; maybe he would grovel at his knees and beg to have you back (it’s not that you wanted to date him again or that you had feelings for him, but it would feel nice to feel wanted), maybe you would just throw a drink in his face and walk away like a bad bitch, maybe you could’ve flashed a new boyfriend in front of his face. 

All of a sudden your phone started to ring.  Your first fear (and somewhat hope) was that it would be Jimin calling you, but little did you know that it was something so much worse.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy 

“as if this day couldn’t get any worse,” you thought to yourself as you pressed decline. You had yet to talk to Jungkook since that day at his apartment (you didn’t even call to congratulate him on his 

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy 

You groaned and hit the decline but at the speed of lightning again.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

Seriously, could this guy not take a hint? You were tempted to turn your phone off all together, but settled for hitting the decline button again.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

You realized that for whatever reason, Jungkook was not giving up, so you either had to answer him or listen to your ringtone of “Love Killa” by Monday X play every 10 seconds. Praying that your voice wouldn’t betray you, you took a deep (albeit shaky) breath and tried your best to wipe your tears before clicking “answer”.

“Look Jeon, I’m - uh - sorry but I really can’t do this right now okay? I’ll call you later.” you choked out, your voice obviously wavering as you tried to be as professional as possible. 

Before you could press the “end call button” you heard Jungkook’s concerned voice through the speakers.

“Y/N, wait, you don’t sound too good. Are you okay?”

Ah yes, “are you okay” - probably the most loaded question a person could ever ask. 

You probably could’ve kept it together if he had asked any other question, but his “are you ok” truly pulled at your heartstrings.

You felt your chest tightening but you tried your best to help the feeling subside. You had yet to show weakness about how Jimin had affected you to anyone, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start with Jeon Jungkook. Clutching at your chest and taking a few deep breaths in an effort to calm your racing heart, you continued on. 

“Is that genuine concern I’m hearing from you Jeon? Be careful, you’re losing your bad boy persona,” you said as you tried to make a joke to distract him. 

“Y/N, no. I’m serious. are. you. okay.”

You couldn’t handle it anymore. Sobs broke free from your chest and you heaved into the phone, your whimpers and whines striking Jungkook on the other side of the phone. 

“I, I can’t- I just-“

The words barely broke through your sobs. Your chest was tightening and you could barely hear Jungkook through the ringing in your ears. 

“Y/N where are you, I’m coming’” said Jungkook. You could hear the jingling of his car keys and the rustling of him putting on shoes. 

As if mother nature felt your pain, the rain started pouring down on you at the same time.

You barely got out any more words to Jungkook,  but he didn’t hang up on you. He just kept whispering comforting phrases, trying to calm you down from afar as you could hear his car engine roaring in the background (in another world, you definitely would’ve yelled at him for using his phone while driving). You barely even registered that Jungkook was there at all. Every memory of you and Jimin seemed to reopen like a fresh wound, and you couldn’t feel anything except the pain. All you could do was sit on a random curb by the edge of campus, your wails probably reaching the sorority houses nearby. 

You felt broken. The sound of the thunder overhead mixed with your cries as the rain pelted you, soaking your thin sweatshirt. You don’t know how much time passed there. In your head, it felt like time was frozen, while for Jungkook it felt like he was wasting hours zooming through campus (he truly was zooming - a month later he found out that he had accumulated 3 speeding tickets trying to find you, but he would never tell you that).

“Oh, sunshine,” he murmured, voice laced with pity and concern as he pulled over his car on the curb in front of you. 

You and Jungkook hadn’t even said a word to each other since the feud at his apartment, and you had absolutely zero clue how he even managed to figure out where you were through your jumbled phone call. But all you knew is that right now you needed him. You needed someone to give you a bit of comfort, and Jungkook was somehow here to do that for you. Despite everything between you twom you couldn’t hide the feeling of relief that ran through your body as you looked up and saw Jungkook in front of you.

Coming to your side, Jungkook crouched beside you. 

“Jungkook”, you wept as he pulled you into his chest. It was probably one of the first times you had actually addressed him by his first name, which came as a surprise to him. 

Holding you closer, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel protective over you. He couldn’t help but hurt with you as he saw your fragile figure shaking in his arms. 

“You’re gonna be okay now Y/N, okay? I’m here. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”  

And in that moment, on a dirty curbside off campus, you weren’t Jeon boy and little miss sunshine,  mortal enemies and chemistry lab partners. Instead, you were just Jeon Jungkook and Y/N., and nothing else seemed to matter at the moment.

--♡--

To your surprise (and the surprise of anyone else who knows you), you and Jungkook had not been stepping on each other’s toes as much. What had started out as extreme, extreme dislike had turned into a mild dislike (maybe even a very slight enjoyment of his presence, although you weren't about to admit that anytime soon). And of course, you both refuse to acknowledge the “Jimin incident” that had occurred a week ago and you both refuse to believe that it may have had something to do with you and Jungkook not hating each other. Your emails stopped being signed off with “do your part Jeon, or else” and instead now usually started with “Hey Jeon!” and “Thanks, Y/N”

That brought you here, in your apartment on a Friday night, eating old pizza in an old sweatshirt, no bra, and some comfy shorts that had definitely been through the wash one too many times. Researching for your chemistry project, you chuckled at how much of a londer you would look to an outsider. Sending off the articles you found on Green Chemistry to Jungkook, you closed out the email with some casual pleasantries and then turned to continue rewatching episodes of your favourite kdrama. You definitely weren’t expecting a response from Jungkook until Monday. You were sure that someone like him was at a frat party (was he even in a frat? You had no idea). Either way, Jungkook probably was lounging around in some party house with like 6 girls on his arms, while you were doing quite the opposite. 

Surprisingly, Jungkook was actually doing quite a similar thing to you. Instead of watching kdramas, he was watching Iron Man (for what was probably the 50th time), and was huddled under a makeship blanket fort like a child and scrolling through reddit. Don’t be mistaken though, Jeon Jungkook was definitely a partier, but he also knew when he needed to give his head (and liver) a break.

He saw his phone chime with a gmail notification. He took a brief scroll through the articles you had sent over to him (those were definitely work for another day since there was no way he could digest academic jargon without at least 3 cups of coffee in him), but he was pleasantly surprised with what you had come up with. 

At the same time, the Facebook tab he had open on his Macbook also lit up. 

It’s Y/N L/N’s birthday today! Leave a message on her wall to celebrate!

Jungkook’s jaw dropped. 

It was your birthday and you were sending him chemistry research papers?? Jungkook chuckled because he could already think of 1000 bad jokes to make fun of you, but he also felt some other feeling that he couldn’t quite place.  

Jungkook’s mother had always taught him that it was important to celebrate birthdays, and that is was bad luck that it was  He wasn’t sure if it was just a farce that his mother had come up with to make sure that he still attended those family-wide facetime birthday celebrations once he went to college, but either way, he still believed it to some extent. 

He had no clue why he was doing this, or how he even got here, but somehow Jungkook found himself in sweatpants and a hoodie in front of your apartment door at 10pm on a Friday night, cake in tow in one hand, his other hand out ready to knock on your door. 

On the other side of the door, you were equally astonished. It almost felt like you were seeing a hallucination, as if your email to Jungkook had somehow summoned him to your door. You couldn’t help but rub your eyes in disbelief, just to make sure he was actually there. 

“Jungkook?”

Bashful Jungkook seemed to make an appearance again as he tapped his feet in anxiety. And before he could stop himself, words were already tumbling from his mouth”

“Happy birthday?” he said as a question , posing it as if he didn’t know whether facebook was just playing a prank on him (which he honestly didn’t know). “Can I come in?”

You didn’t even really know how to process this situation, but all you could mutter was a “uh, thank you?” in a similar inquirable tone and gesture for him to step into your apartment. If Jeon Jungkook showed up at your door at 10pm on a Friday night, he probably deserved to be heard out.

“You can make yourself comfortable on the couch. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company otherwise I would have cleaned up a bit.”  You were sure that Jungkook’s neat freak brain was probably frying itself into overdrive based on the empty now-empty pizza box sitting on your coffee table and stray utensils and crumbs on your kitchen counter. You felt a little embarrassed that he had to see this.

Mirroring Jungkook’s hospitality last time you were at his place, you brought him a glass of water and hoped that this evening would go a LOT better than the last time you and Jungkook were alone together in an apartment. 

Jungkook’s cake was still held in his hands. It was a little cake from the 24/7 cafe on campus; he could only find one that said “happy” with little sunflowers and smiles, so hopefully the “birthday” part of it was implied. 

“I, um, I brought cake - for you. I mean your birthday.”

You sat down across from him. 

“Oh you didn’t have to Jungkook, uh that’s really nice but you didn’t have to do that,” you said as you leaned further away from the cake, as if it was an item that scared you. “I’m not big on birthdays anyways, just usually me chilling in my apartment!” 

However, Jungkook was not planning on taking no as an answer. He tried his best to plead with you, but was still getting nowhere. 

“you… you have to do it for my mom!” he said as he thrust the cake even closer to your face. 

You tilted your head in confusion at his statement. 

“I mean uh-, my mom says that it’s bad luck if you don’t blow out candles on cake on your birthday and that if you don’t do it then you won’t live to your next birthday. And um- i know we’re not friends Y/N but I’d rather see you alive next year”.

 Jungkook tried to look as nonchalant and cool as possible, and when he realized his statement was a little too thoughtful he followed it up with a “i mean you could do whatever you want i don’t care it doesn’t matter to me”. 

You were beginning to like this side of Jungkook, the one that was more thoughtful than he was a selfish, inconsiderate dude.

Taking the cake softly from his hands, you muttered a soft “thank you”. At this point Jungkook didn’t know whether you took it from his hands to throw it on the ground or actually use it for its intended purpose. As you leaned over to grab the lighter by your candles on your coffee table, Jungkook let out a breath of relief. 

Throwing open the cake box, you lit the candle in the cake and stared patiently in front of it. 

“Well Jungkook, I believe if I am going to be blowing out candles there should be singing too, no?” You joked with a silly smile on your face. 

Knowing he had no way out of this (and to be honest, he secretly wanted to anyways), he began to sing. 

You had never heard a more beautiful rendition of happy birthday in your life. Jungkook turned the most mundane song, one that you didn’t have many happy memories with, into a tune that made your heart start to swell with joy. You wished the song was longer, because as he stopped to sing you wanted nothing more than for him to keep going. 

“Make a wish, Y/N” , he whispered. 

You didn’t know what to wish for. There were a lot of things that needed to be fixed in the world, and lots of things that you needed too (like a new toothbrush, or the experience of true love). It seemed fitting that since you were only blowing out these candles because of Jungkook, you should at least dedicate the wish to him. So all you wished for was for you and Jungkook to get along just like you were in this moment. 

You looked up at Jungkook from the cake, and from there all you could say was a sincere “thank you”.

The moment was all too sincere, and you and Jungkook could feel the atmosphere shift to one that was all too intimate and friendly for your relationship. As moving away from a hot flame, you both picked up your phones and mumbled excuses to move away from the situation. 

Jungkook was the first to break the ice again. 

“I don’t know how good this cake is going to be, the expiry date was at least a week and a half ago”

“Well Jeon Jungkook, if you brought an expired cake into my apartment, it feels like a right of passage that you have to try this cake with me.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from picking up a piece of cake on a fork and shoving it into his mouth. Immediately, his face scrounged up in disgust, and you could pretty much see him gag. 

“That cream is… very creamy to stay the least,” he said as he thickly swallowed it down, grimacing the whole time. 

His expression made you chuckle. There was something about the way his naturally fluffy hair seemed to move as he swayed like a piece of seaweed on your couch (a mannerism that you had picked up on quite quickly), that made you feel warm inside.

“Considering me sacrificing myself to this cake as a birthday present to you, Y/N” 

The laugh that bubbled out of your chest almost made that gross cake worth it to Jungkook. And some words of sincerity slipped out before you could hold them in. 

“Best birthday present ever, Jungkook, thank you.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

Taglist: @apollukee , @mrcleanheichou , @monvieesdaebak 

If you want to be tagged, please send me an ask! 

 If you liked what you read, please interact/follow! Thank you for reading♡

- Emily

[castiel-kline]

once upon a birthday

Birthdays haven’t always been Jack’s friend, but he’s starting to realize that every May 18th he reaches is a miracle rather than a tragedy.

May 18, 2017.

Jack saw that combination of letters and numbers everywhere on his first day of life. He saw it on the corner of the newspaper on Sheriff Barker’s desk, watched her scribble it on a page of notes she was writing up about him, saw it light up on Clark’s phone when he opened it to show Jack something ���cool.” 

It would be a while before he realized that date’s significance.

-

May 18, 2018

Jack was seated around a campfire with the other kids of the rebel camp, staving off their fear of the incoming dark by telling them a story. It was just the plot of Clone Wars, but since it didn’t exist in this universe no one called him out on it. 

Bobby’s voice carried over the sounds of the camp settling down for the night, low but still decipherable. 

“...our supply’ll run out by the 25th. We have to keep moving, get some more.”

Jack never did learn what they were about to run out of, because Mary’s response snared his attention even tighter.

“Remind me what day it is now? I lost track while I was… you know.”

“Right, I get it. It’s May 20th.”

And Jack stopped short in his tale, the realization that he’d been alive more than a year hitting him like a blast from one of Michael’s soldiers. The little girl next to him nudged his elbow and asked if he was okay.

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling gently. “It’s just that my birthday was two days ago. I only realized now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We could sing to you now?” All the children nodded their agreement, but Jack shook his head.

“Thanks, but it’s okay. Besides, I need to finish telling you about Ashoka’s rescue mission, right?” They leaned in closer around the fire, and Jack went back to his narrator voice. “Now, she knew it would be a dangerous journey, but…”

That night when Jack was trying to sleep (Mary made him promise to attempt four hours, even though he didn’t really need it) he wondered if birthday celebrations lived up to their reputation. He wondered if his was ever going to be worth celebrating, given all the pain and death that day had brought.

With the new knowledge that he was a year old, Jack dreamed of his mother- wafting through hazy gold memories of a furniture warehouse, Castiel beside her, in the days before Jack was capable of hurting anyone because he couldn’t control his powers. In the days when he still felt safe.

-

May 18, 2019

“How’s it goin’, kiddo? Enjoying the quiet?”

Jack whirled around to face the Empty head on, unwilling to show just how much its appearance had startled him. It didn’t bother him much, per Billie’s instructions, but sometimes it liked to taunt him. Usually it appeared as his mother, sometimes Cas, but today it looked just like him.

“What do you want?” Jack asked, lifting his chin. His doppleganger mirrored the action, before smirking and sauntering closer.

“Oh, calm down. I don’t bite, I’m just delivering a message.”

“A message from who?”

Billie would just deliver a message in person, and no one else could contact him in here. Maybe Cas could-

“Hmm, I don’t know,” it interrupted Jack’s thoughts. “Time? The Universe? Anyway. Happy birthday, sport. Enjoy the official start of your terrible twos.”

With that the Shadow vanished, leaving Jack alone in the dark once again. He sat down and curled his knees to his chest, wishing there was a corner or a wall he could press his back against. He felt exposed and vulnerable in the vastness of the Empty’s nothing, and it was making him uneasy.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what his family was up to down on earth. Would they be sad? Too busy fighting Chuck to notice? Were they even alive?

He wished with all his might that they weren’t alone. Alone wasn’t what you should be on somebody’s birthday.

-

May 18, 2020

As endings went, Jack’s was shaping up to be okay. He’d finally had a good birthday- even if it was both impromptu and a few days early. He laid in bed, belly full of his first ever birthday cake, for once not thinking about his upcoming demise.

A soft knock on the door sounded, and Jack sat up in surprise. A glance at his phone confirmed that it was nearing four in the morning, which only thickened his confusion.

“Come in?”

When Cas pushed open the door, Jack smiled.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed, pushing off the blanket and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Cas pushed the door to a close behind him and shuffled further into the room. “Sorry, I know it’s late, but I had a feeling you’d still be awake.”

“Is everything okay? Nothing went wrong with talking to the angels, did it?”

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” Cas assured him. “The angels are going to keep an eye out for Amara, but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

Jack frowned. Then why…?

“Happy birthday,” Cas said, pulling a gift bag out from behind his back. “I know it’s early, but I heard you celebrated while I was gone. So I picked something up on the way home.”

“Thank you,” Jack breathed, taking the gift and settling it on his lap. His first birthday gift.

Cas took a seat next to him, giving Jack’s arm a gentle nudge.

“You can open it now, if you’d like.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He tore into the tissue paper, eagerly unveiling the surprise it hid from view. At the bottom of the bag was a teddy bear, clad in overalls that smushed down its soft brown fur.

“Your mother always wanted to buy one for you,” explained Castiel. “We placed the order, but it didn’t arrive before…”

“Before.” Jack sighed, throat suddenly tight with emotion.

“If you don’t like it I can take it back-”

“No, Cas, it’s great. I love it. Does it have a name?”

The question didn’t faze Cas in the slightest.

“Well, the official name according to the store is Marvelous Marvin. But I believe it’s customary to name a stuffed animal anything you’d like.”

Hmm. Jack studied the bear’s face for a moment, tilting his head. “Marvin’s good,” he declared. “I like it.”

“I’m glad.” Cas smiled, then stood up. “You should get some rest.”

“Wait!” He hadn’t meant to say anything, but as soon as the word was out he realized he really, really, didn’t want this day to end. “I saved a piece of cake for you. And I’m not tired, so…”

It only took about ten seconds before Cas gave in with a fond shake of his head.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Jack followed him to the kitchen, Marvin under one arm.

His third birthday, and his first good birthday.

What would almost certainly be his last birthday.

-

May 18, 2021

There were many things in life Jack had learned to think of as little miracles. Some seemed utterly insignificant, like the flowers that managed to grow between cracks in the sidewalk. Saying hello to his mother should have been just as beautiful and commonplace, but to Jack every chance was more wondrous than the sun shining through a storm.

He whispered it now, breathing another miracle into being in two precious little words.

“Hi, mom.”

Kelly looked up from what she’d been reading, face lighting up in joyous surprise. She came forward and swept him up in her arms, and Jack allowed himself a moment to be grateful. In spite of everything, the universe allowed him to have this.

“I didn’t think you’d be back yet,” she said as she pulled away, her hands clasping his. “I mean, you said you had to fix all the parallel universes, and Cas said there’s hundreds of them…”

“I’m not done yet,” he said. “Amara’s still out there, and I’ll have to go back soon, but... I really wanted to spend some time with you today.”

Kelly frowned, concern taking over her features. “Is everything okay? Do you need help, or-?”

“I’m fine,” Jack assured. “It’s -on earth, anyway- it’s May 18th. 2021.”

Realization struck. “It’s your birthday.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, because my being born wasn’t a good day for you, and-”

“Jack, baby.” Kelly put a hand on his cheek, swiping away the tear he hadn’t known was falling. “My death was not your fault. Okay? Of course I want to celebrate your birthday with you.”

“Really?”

“Really. We can call Cas down here, watch some movies, make a cake-”

Kelly was already moving to the kitchen, all ready to start baking.

“Mom, wait. I… I had a birthday cake once,” he told her. “And that was… special. Could we think of something else to do? Just you and me and Cas?”

“Of course, honey. It’s your day. Cookies?”

Jack nodded, and he smiled. Because in that moment it was crystal clear that each year spent growing older, especially those spent with the people that he loved most, were little miracles too.

And he had plenty more birthdays to look forward to.

[gaemkyuu]

Mommy will you marry Charlie? (Charlie Gillespie x Fictional Character)

Warnings: mention of teenage pregnancy A/N: I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of love “Mommy can we keep him” received. I was originally going to upload the proposal AND the wedding, but I’ve been struggling a bit with the wedding portion. I hope you enjoy the proposal! Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Mommy will you marry Charlie?

“Hey! Are you ready to go?” Charlie knocked and popped his head into Riley’s ensuite, pausing to take in her beauty. She was dressed in a pretty summer dress and placed a few more bobby pins into her hair, smiling at him in the mirror.

“Just about. Are Owen and Savannah here?” Riley’s answer came at that moment when the doorbell rang. Charlie left the ensuite and headed for the door just as Emerson got to it.

“Emmy, what did we say about answering the door?” Charlie chastised, moving quicker to the door. Emerson slightly pouted knowing he was right and sat on the entryway bench, waiting for Charlie to open the door. “You guys are just in time!” “No thanks to Owen” Savannah scoffed, motioning to the giant behind her.

“I hadn’t eaten yet, I needed My Chick-fil-A, but then I forgot to order some for Emmy, so we had to go back through the drive through” he sighed, showing him the two bags of take out in his hands. “Where is the little stinker?”

“I’m not stinky! I took a bath!” she hopped on the entryway bench and into Savannah’s arms first, Owen dramatically displayed his offense to the toddler.

“How come she gets a hug first?! I brought you Chicken Strips!” Savannah picked her up and balanced her on her hip. “I even convinced the lady to give you two books!”

“Aunty Savannah didn’t call me stinky and knows that I ate supper before you came.” she giggled and shook her head. “Plus, I like the chicken nuggets and not the strips” Owen rolled his eyes and muttered a ‘oh come on’ under his breath, but as soon as Savannah put her down, Emerson gave Owen’s leg a hug.

Riley came to the front door and greeted her friends, thanking them again for being so willing to babysit while they went out for the evening. After Charlie and Emerson’s date, the couple decided that they would go on more family dates as a request from the little girl and Charlie. Riley didn’t think anything of it, but she certainly didn’t want to come between the relationship they were both developing. This was the first time Emerson ever really accepted another man into their lives.

At the young age of 18 and saving enough money, Riley moved out of her mother’s home in Chino Hills to a one bedroom, one bath in downtown LA that was closer to her office. Riley was grateful that her mom agreed to come over to their apartment to babysit Emerson while she was at work as it helped her to save up more money to eventually move into a chic modern home on the outskirts of downtown. She was always so focused on providing for Emerson that she rarely let anyone into her life and when she did, she always had to make sure that they got the seal of approval from Emerson.

There was Nick from the marketing department at Netflix who she thought was cute, but he wasn’t very open to the idea of potentially becoming a dad so early on. Emerson really didn’t like him as she would cry every time he looked at her or moved towards her. That didn’t last more than three weeks.

Then there was Jaime from the grocery store who loved children and really liked Riley, but Emerson didn’t like the fact that Riley made more money than Jaime and warned her mom several times about him, despite her young age. Riley learned her lesson that sometimes four year olds are very perceptive because Jaime asked to borrow money for his rent a month later.

Lastly, there was Greg, a single dad who had twins the same age as Emerson. That didn’t last because the kids would often fight. Emerson thought the children were dumb and immature, while the twins thought Emerson was acting like a weird grown up.

Riley always prioritized Emerson in any decision making process she had, but at her core she felt lonely. She couldn’t tell her daughter this despite her intelligence. She was still a child. What kind of a mother would she be if she vented to her child? But Emerson knew her mom was lonely. She often heard her crying in the pantry and quietly talking on the phone late at night. That’s why when Charlie walked in their lives, she knew she had to play nice for a little while for the sake of her mother. Neither girls expected that Charlie would become such an important piece of their lives.

“Emerson we will be back past your bedtime, so give me kisses now” Riley requested as she hugged her little girl and peppered her with kisses. She giggled and kissed her mother back until she let go. Instinctively, Charlie knelt down too and opened his arms, giving her a quick peck on the head. Emerson gave him a hug back and kissed him on the cheek, the gesture garnering a loud “aw” from Owen, as the girls silently admired the interaction. Charlie rolled his eyes and whispered to Emerson quickly, making her giggle as his breath tickled her ear and neck. 

“You guys should get going so we can start painting Uncle Owen’s nails!” Savannah interrupted, glancing at the time on her phone. “We also get to facetime Uncle Jeremy, Aunty Carolyn and Aunty Madison too!” Emerson got super excited and skipped to her bedroom to grab her “nail kit”, a toy Savannah had bought her last Christmas. With a laugh, the couple headed out the door and off to supper. 

As soon as the door closed, the two friends and Emerson got to work. They were in on the plan and set about decorating their house. Emerson and Charlie had gone to PartyCity a few days ago while Riley was at an executive meeting and picked out a bunch of decorations for his proposal. At first, Charlie was hesitant, but Emerson was absolutely sure her mother said yes. Knowing his past of always being proven wrong by Emerson, he decided to listen to the little girl and follow her lead.

“Remember, mommy had me when she was a kid so she missed out on kid things. Do a bunch of kid things with mommy!” 

That’s what prompted Charlie to take her to Santa Monica. Charlie had made a reservation at a restaurant on the Santa Monica beachfront and the two enjoyed a lovely casual dinner. They talked about projects they were excited about and started ‘people watching’ from their seats, laughing and making silly jokes about the people who passed them by. After dinner, they set out to do “Kid Things” and played games on the pier, settling for mini donuts as dessert and eventually watching the sunset. Charlie tensed for a moment, but quickly relaxed as he felt the small box in his pocket.

“Mommy won’t say yes unless I’m there. She would be too busy thinking about me before she says yes, so ask her at home”

“But what about bedtime?”

“I mean if you say I can stay up, then that should be okay right?”

“You okay? You looked tense for a second” Riley snapped him out of his thoughts, but he was grateful that she shivered because it gave him a chance to change the topic. 

“Yeah, I was just thinking about the sunset in Dieppe. Can’t wait to take you one day. Cold?” he draped his denim jacket over her shoulders, and hugged her from behind. As soon as the glow from the sunset disappeared and the glow of the carnival lights replaced them, Charlie decided that instead of walking on the beach, they would go home and watch a movie on the couch. They spent the drive back to Riley’s place in a comfortable silence with the radio gently playing music. Charlie started to feel more excited and antsy the closer they got to her place. Before exiting the car, he held her hand in his and kissed the back of it. “I love you, you know that?” Riley smiled, nodded and kissed him on the lips. Charlie raced her to the door, knowing full well that he would beat her to it, but that didn’t stop Riley from trying. They stumbled through the entry a fit of giggles and laughter, but Riley stumbled on a pair of shoes. 

“Charlie! I told you to... put your shoes...away?” she became more confused as she stared at the pair. They weren’t Owen’s, Charlie’s, Savannah’s or Emmerson’s. Who could be in their house? She looked up to see Charlie nowhere in sight and began to worry. “Char, this isn’t funny. This is like the scene from a horror movie” she quickly shed her shoes and walked down the corridor to the living room. She didn’t expect to see her mother, Charlie’s mom and their closest friends standing behind Charlie and Emerson with excited looks on their faces. To add to her confusion, they held party poppers and noise makers, while a giant Congratulations banner decorated her living room. She heard Emerson clear her throat and Charlie stood proudly beside her.

“Dear mommy, I stayed up past my bedtime because Charlie said I had to” everyone in the room laughed at this, as Emerson continued to read from the piece of paper in her hands. 

“Mommy, you work so hard to give me the best life and the best toys. Sometimes I wonder how I can give you the best life and the best toys, but adults don’t play with toys. I asked aunty Carolyn why she was so happy with uncle Jeremy, and she said it was because she gets to be with uncle Jeremy forever” Carolyn wiped the tear that had formed in her eyes. 

“I asked uncle Owen why aunty Carolyn and uncle Jeremy got to be together forever, and that’s when uncle Owen said it was because they were married.” She took a deep breath and lost her place on her paper. Charlie peaked over and pointed to where she needed to keep reading from. 

“Oh, right. When I asked you were getting married, you told me never and that it was a rude question, but I think that was because you had a bad day at work” despite the teary eyes, her comment made everyone laugh. 

“So I asked Charlie to go on a date with me and ask him when he would marry you” Riley gasped as Charlie pulled out the box with the ring, getting down on one knee. “I know Charlie makes you happy and I think you should be together forever. Charlie has a question for you and the answer is yes.”

“Riley King, I love you and I love Emerson. I can’t think of anyone I want to spend the rest of my life with. You and Emerson are my family now, so let’s make it official” Charlie winked at Emerson who put her paper down and also got onto one knee beside Charlie.

“Mommy, will you marry Charlie?” Riley was crying full tears at this point listening to her daughter’s words, but she nodded and whispered a yes. Everyone erupted in a cheer and the party poppers went off as he put the ring on her finger, kissing her and picking up Emerson. “You did so good, Emmy!”

“You’re gonna be my daddy!!!” Emerson exclaimed, full of excitement and squeezing Charlie. 

Riley wiped her tears and kissed her daughter on the cheek, truly speechless. Everyone came around to congratulate them, Savannah, Madison, and Carolyn all wanting to see the ring first and then hugs. She was on cloud nine, still not able to understand how this was all being planned behind her back. “Is that why you volunteered to babysit?” Savannah nodded her head sheepishly and hugged her friend. Charlie’s mother gave her a big hug congratulating her on their engagement expressing her excitement to have another daughter in law, while Riley’s mother hugged Charlie, crying happy tears. The rest of the evening was spent enjoying everyone’s company that the couple lost track of time. By the time they said goodbye to Owen, the last to leave, Emerson had fallen asleep on the couch. 

“You mean to tell me, you planned this entire thing with my daughter behind my back?” Charlie smiled and nodded, picking the little girl up from the couch, careful not to wake her up. “I mean, I am touched, but I’m also afraid of what else you two are capable of doing”

“Just wait til you hear her ideas for the wedding.” Charlie chuckled as they headed to her room to tuck her in for the night. He put the little girl into bed and Riley watched the whole scene from the doorway, tears coming to her eyes as it finally sank in that this was her family. Emerson stirred and shifted around, uncomfortable all of a sudden. Charlie cooed at her and assured that she was fine, humming softly to her, something that he often used since the first night he helped her through a nightmare.

“G’night daddy” she mumbled in her sleepy daze, settling back to sleep. Charlie was taken off guard as the new title fell from her mouth. He felt his heart explode and wiped a tear that fell from his eyes.

“Sleep tight Princess” he sniffled, clearing his throat and kissing the top of her head. He pulled another blanket over her frame as she often got cold in the middle of the night. It amazed Riley how much Charlie knew of her daughter despite the amount of time he had been present in their lives. They softly shut the door behind them and walked hand in hand to their room. “Planning the wedding is going to be fun”

“I was thinking we do it in Dieppe or Moncton” Riley suggested, something to which Charlie lit up at. He looked at her with wide eyes in disbelief.

“If you’re pulling an Emerson on me right now, I’m going to be so mad” they had come up with the term ‘pulling an Emerson’ to describe the sarcasm they often received from the little girl. But Charlie became overjoyed as Riley bit her lip and shook her head, confirming that she did in fact want to get married in his hometown.

“We start planning tomorrow”

A/N: if you really want a wedding scene or a glimpse of life after the wedding let me know!

[deansmom]

(ao3) 6k of “what if dean got hit with a love spell on a hunt, and they thought the spell didn’t work because nothing changed until something did.” pray4sam lol, set post canon and 19/20 never happened. 

Dean yells something, but Castiel doesn’t hear it over the sound of glass and metal breaking and bending around him. The vampires are throwing him around like a rag doll, and he can’t get his feet under him long enough to even try to stop it.

He feels absurdly, infuriatingly human.

Finally, Dean is able to interrupt the one who’s been doing most of the throwing, and Castiel is able to smite the next one that touches him.

The vampire dies with a loud, abrupt scream and it gives Sam and Dean enough time to take out the other four who’d been using Cas as a play thing.

His grace isn’t as strong as it used to be, and he just hurts everywhere. His head is particularly painful, the way that it’s throbbing so much it feels like his eyes are going to pop out.

He makes a noise that’s supposed to be Dean’s name but it sounds more like a groan. He just needs some help to stand up, and frankly, he’s not sure how structurally sound this building is anymore since they threw him through most of the supporting walls.

Dean is there suddenly, and Castiel has to bite back the instinct to whine at the frantic hands flying over him.

Hands stop on his face, and oh, there he is. Cas opens his mouth to say hello, he’s glad that they found him, something, and then -

Dean kisses him and it’s a little panicked, a little too rough, but mostly, it just feels nice.

He’s helpless to do anything more than lean up into it, one of his own hands grabbing at the sleeve of Dean’s jacket. He makes a noise into it and it turns into a groan very quickly, a twinge in his ribs not letting him move like that.

It startles Dean enough that he pulls back, his concern written clear across his face.

“Are you alright?? Did I hurt you??”

Sam makes a choked squawking noise from somewhere behind them, and both Dean and Cas look over at him. He bites his fist so he doesn’t yell it at them and abruptly walks out of the warehouse because oh my god, the spell wasn’t a dud.

Dean helps Cas out to the car, a hand on his chest and the other hand on his lower back with Cas’ arm thrown over his shoulder.

“Sam, a little help here?!” Dean glares incredulously at his brother, not even reacting to Castiel’s head falling onto his shoulder.

Sam jumps out of the passenger seat and opens the back door of the Impala, “Sorry, yeah, I just - I had to -“

Dean makes a displeased noise that sounds like Miracle when they stop petting her too soon.

“Yeah, whatever ya fuckin weirdo.” He moves the hand from Cas’ chest to his pocket and digs out the keys, “Here, Sammy, you drive.”

Sam blinks at the keys for a second too long, his brain still trying to process the fact that his brother has been under a spell for the last 3 weeks, and gets the keys tossed at his chest for the trouble.

He pouts a little bit despite himself, grabbing the keys from where they fell.

Dean is trying to figure out a way to get himself in the backseat without letting go of Cas and it’s not working. He’s got 5’11” of dead weight leaning on his shoulder, and Dean’s not as young as he used to be.

“A little help here?!”

Sam jumps forward, sliding his arms around Cas to hold him up, “Right, sorry.”

Dean slides in as soon as Cas is safely supported, and then leans forward to grab his shoulders again.

It takes the two of them a minute to figure out the coordination for this, and Cas gets his head slammed against the car once for their troubles. Miraculously neither the bump nor Dean yelling death threats at Sam gets a reaction out of him, other than a quiet groan.

When they successfully have him folded up in the backseat, Dean pulls Castiel’s head onto his lap and runs a hand through his hair.

“Okay, let’s get him to the motel room,” he sighs, sounding equal parts exhausted and worried.

Sam hesitates for a moment with the door open, moments from the past few weeks flying through his head in a new context now. Holy shit, he’s so dumb. They’re all so dumb.

Dean’s voice snaps him out of it, “Sam, come on!” He’s trying to glare at his brother, but he just looks more weirded out than anything, “What the hell is with you, man?? Let’s go.”

He nods, jumping into action and shutting the door a little too harshly. It earns him another squawk from the back seat and Sam winces, “Sorry.”

Holy shit, this is absurd.

Sam hesitates for a beat and decides against trying to talk to Dean now, heading over to the drivers side door.

He gets in the Impala and starts her up immediately, turning down the radio to a quieter volume when it starts playing.

He chances a look in the rear view mirror for a second, and he almost chokes on his tongue when he sees the look on Dean’s face.

He’s never felt so stupid in his life.

Sam shakes himself out of it and pulls the car out onto the main road, barely remembering to look both ways.

They’re quiet for a couple minutes, Dean lost in his concern, Sam lost in the memories of the past twelve years that now have a completely different context and holy shit.

The radio is still playing quietly in the background and it’s something, Sam’s not really sure what, because they didn’t drive here together. They’re going to have to go pick up Castiel’s truck at some point before they leave and huh, maybe Sam will just go and do that after he talks to them.

That’ll buy all of them like what, an hour? Two?

He’s so deep in his own thoughts that Sam almost misses it when he hears the voice coming from the back seat.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Dean whispers, his voice sounding softer than Sam’s ever heard it. “You scared the hell out of me back there.”

“...apologies,” Castiel’s equally soft voice answers, sounding rough. “They got the jump on me, and I -“

Dean shushes him, “Hey, you got nothing to apologize for.”

Castiel sighs, and Sam can hear his trench coat shifting on the bench, “Dean...”

Dean does something that makes the car quiet for a couple seconds too long and Sam has to resist the urge to clear his throat.

“Cas, I’m just glad you’re okay. Now close your eyes again for me? We’re almost back at the hotel.”

“‘M not tired,” is the grumbled reply Sam hears.

“Yeah okay superman, that’s fine, but you’re squinting at me and it’s making my head hurt. Close your eyes, it’ll make you feel better.”

Castiel sighs, the trench coat shifting again, “Alright, Dean.”

Sam turns the radio up just a little bit, feeling suddenly like he’s intruding on something even though he’s heard these conversations a million times before.

Holy shit, he’s so dumb.

When they get to the motel, Cas is more awake and is able to walk himself up to his room with Dean’s help.

Sam debates going to the front desk to see if they have another room he can get, since they’d been planning to just crash in Cas’ room anyways.

No, he should really take care of this whole shitshow first. Who knows what the effects of Dean being cursed for this long will be? And what if they...

He shakes himself out of it, literally, and finally gets out of the Impala to follow behind them.

They’re barely starting up the steps by the time Sam catches up to them and he catches just a snippet of their conversation.

“Really Dean, I’m alright,” Castiel is grumbling, putting way more weight on Dean than is probably necessary.

Dean snorts, the hand on Castiel’s lower back pressing firmly against him every time they go up a step, “Yeah, you’ve never looked better.”

Castiel groans, glaring at him as they go up another step, “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean grins at him, the tips of his ears turning a little pink. “That’s why you like me.”

Sam takes a couple steps backwards and decides that no, he’s going to give them a minute and grab their bags. Maybe go to the front desk and check on that room after all.

At the rate they’re going (at the rate Dean is milking this, he should say), they’ll be at the top of the stairs in like ten minutes anyways.

They don’t even notice that Sam’s not behind them anymore.

Figures.

Sam rolls his eyes and heads back to the Impala, pulling out his phone once he has the trunk open.

He types out a quick text to Eileen and Bobby.

‘Remember that hunt a couple weeks ago with the witches? Dean did get cursed. Need a spell to undo it ASAP.’

Eileen answers first.

‘A delayed spell?’

Sam snorts, running a hand through his hair.

‘No, I’m just an idiot.’

‘???’

‘I’ll explain later. Can you guys help?’

Finally Bobby answers and it makes Sam laugh out loud. He may not exactly be their Bobby, but sometimes he’s close enough that it’s hard to even tell the difference.

‘Don’t text me Sam, just call. Will c what I can dig up.’

Eileen’s reply comes after that.

‘I’m close, I’ll go help.’

Sam smiles, that warm feeling he gets every time they talk blooming in his chest again.

‘I owe you both.’

He grabs their duffles and slams the trunk shut.

When he gets up to the room ten minutes later, it takes Dean a couple minutes to actually open the door.

Much to Sam’s surprise (and delight) they both look just as miserable and clothed as when he left them. Good, that means Dean hasn’t done something that will freak him out later.

He hands Dean his duffle and a key, “Here, I’ve got the room two doors over.”

Dean frowns, taking both things, “Why’d you get another room? I’m not leaving Cas alone tonight. He could have a concussion, Sam.”

Castiel groans from the bed, “Dean I told you, I have enough Grace. I’ll be fine, I just need time -“

Dean snaps, not even looking back at him when he says, “Cas, I love you, but shut the fuck up, this isn’t up for debate.”

Castiel’s mouth closes with an audible click, Sam feels lightheaded all of a sudden and Dean looks like he can’t believe he’s got two idiots in the same room as him.

“What?!” He growls, looking back and forth between the two of them, “Why the hell are you guys being weird??”

Sam opens his mouth to say something, but Cas beats him to the punch.

He gets up to hobble over to them, and Dean’s there supporting him before he even gets two steps away from the bed.

“Dean,” he sighs, reluctantly leaning into his arms for support. “On second thought, I am hungry. Could you please go pick up some food?”

Castiel smiles at the confused look on his face and sets a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I do think it will help me heal faster.”

That seems to be a good enough reason for Dean because any defensiveness melts away immediately. He nods, already guiding Cas backwards again, “Fine, but you’ve gotta stay here on this bed, and rest.”

Cas lets Dean settle him onto the bed again and sighs, trying to sound more put-out than he feels, “Alright, if you insist.”

“Damn right I insist,” Dean huffs.

And then, like it’s fine and totally normal and not throwing either one of them off their game, he leans down and kisses the top of his head.

“Okay,” Dean says as he stands upright. “Sammy, you stay here with Cas. I’ll go get burgers and then we’ll talk about why you’re being so weird.”

He points at Sam as he says it, his expression clearly meaning that he thinks Sam is the one who isn’t being normal.

Sam nods, finally stepping into the room, “Yeah, alright, sounds good.”

Dean grabs the Impala’s keys from Sam’s hand and starts to head out the door when Sam remembers.

“Oh shit, Dean!” He yelps, stepping out into the hallway again.

Dean sighs and turns around, throwing his hands up, “What?!”

Sam cringes, pointing to Dean’s face, “You got vamp all over you.”

At the reminder, Dean brings a hand up to wipe his face off and blanches when he sees the blood and chunks on it (eugh).

The most shocking thing, believe it or not, is that Dean just kinda shrugs after a moment.

“Gross, I’ll wipe it off in the car, but I gotta go get the food for Cas.”

Sam just kinda... gapes at his brother, and eventually feels himself nodding. “Yeah, uh... yeah okay. Just don’t go in anywhere looking like that.”

Dean rolls his eyes and turns back around, heading towards the stairs, “What is this Sam, my first rodeo?! I got it.”

Because his brain is still trying to process everything it’s figured out in the last thirty minutes, Sam just goes back into the motel room. He shuts the door behind him and points at Cas, “We need to talk.”

Castiel deflates a little, shifting himself so he’s resting against the headboard, “Dean is under a love spell, isn’t he?”

Sam sighs, dropping his duffle by the foot of the bed, “I’m gonna go with yeah.”

Someone yells at their TV nearby, the radiator kicks on and Castiel groans when he sits up and starts pulling the trench coat off.

“I don’t understand why it just kicked in now,” he grumbles, sounding petulant.

Sam snorts and sits down at the end of the bed, barely missing his feet, “I don’t think it did, Cas.”

He gets a squint for his troubles, and Sam sighs, realizing that this might be a more difficult conversation than he was anticipating.

Look, he’s not blind, okay? He kinda figured that Dean had like, a crush or something on Cas. And he knows that Cas has had a crush on Dean for god, who knows? Maybe since they first met?

But he always just kinda figured that the two of them knew about it and just, like... didn’t think it was a good idea.

In the time it took for them to drive over here, Sam’s started to think that they have no idea.

He sighs again, looking up at the ceiling, “Look, you know how Dean’s been a little bit more touchy the last couple weeks?”

Again, remembering the day after they got home from ganking the witches when Sam caught Dean rubbing Castiel’s shoulders, he fees like the biggest idiot in the world.

Cas shifts on the bed, shrugging a little, “I don’t understand what that has to do with anything, Sam. Your brother is a very tactile person.”

And yeah, okay, add that one to the list of “Reasons Why Sam Is Stupid.”

He rolls his head over to look at Cas, “Dude, maybe, but he isn’t normally like that.”

Castiel sits up and then groans again, falling back against the pillows.

“I don’t understand, your brother isn’t...” He glares at his hands, fiddling with the sleeve of his coat, “He isn’t interested in me, Sam.”

Not for the first time in the last hour, Sam desperately wishes for something to ram his head through. This is absurd.

Cas hums, looking very human, “Although I suppose that a love spell would make that a moot point...”

Sam sets a hand on his ankle and turns so he’s facing his friend, “Cas.”

He doesn’t look up from his hands and Sam resists the urge to yell in frustration by squeezing Castiel’s leg, “Dude, look at me for a second, please.”

After a couple moments, he finally does look up at him and Sam wants to laugh. Cas looks so nervous and just, painfully human, and Sam almost feels bad for the guy.

“Yeah, Dean’s been under the influence of the spell the last couple weeks.”

Castiel looks away again, and Sam moves so he’s still in his line of sight.

“But buddy, you’re insane if you think that he doesn’t love you.”

The person in another room yells at their TV again and then all Sam can hear is the pipes in the bathroom, rattling with the effort of bringing water to someone in the building.

“I’d like to be alone now, Sam,” Castiel says after a couple minutes of silence.

Sam rolls his eyes and lets go of his ankle, “Dean’s going to kill me if I’m not here when he gets back.”

He seems to consider that for a moment before nodding.

“Alright. Then I’d like to wait for my food in the bathroom please.”

They both just stare at each other for a while, both of them daring the other to say anything about it. Finally Sam sighs and stands up, “Yeah, okay. Do you need help, or...?”

Castiel stands up and he has to steady himself on Sam’s arm for a beat. He does, however, swat off Sam’s hands when they move to support him, “I’m fine, Sam. I can walk.”

That annoying little brother part of him wants to point out how hard Cas was leaning on Dean earlier, but he bites his tongue. He just steps out of the way and makes a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

Castiel glares at him like he knows what Sam is thinking, and oh man, is that his ears turning pink?

Sam grins at him, wanting to say something else, but Cas just shoves past him and makes a beeline for the bathroom. He’s definitely got a little bit of a limp, and he’s for sure favoring one side over the other, but he makes it to the bathroom completely fine on his own. The door promptly slams shut in Sam’s face.

He snickers fondly to himself, going over to turn the TV on. He finds a channel that looks entertaining enough and flops down on the couch, keeping the volume low enough that he can hear it Cas needs help.

Dean comes back twenty minutes later with bags overflowing and his hands full.

“Guys, dinner’s up!”

He sets his bounty on the tiny table by the door and looks around the room, grinning. The grin disappears completely when Cas isn’t on the bed, and Sam’s just looking at him from the couch.

“Hey, Cas just decided to take a shower.”

And he did, honest. He even poked his head out like two minutes ago and asked Sam to bring him a change of clothes.

Dean’s face looks a little panicked again and Sam jumps up, holding his hands out in a placating motion.

“Hey, he’s fine Dean, he just hopped in. He won’t be out for a couple minutes.”

He comes over and sets a hand on Dean’s shoulder, kinda feeling like he’s dealing with an emotional time bomb.

“Come eat,” he tries again, squeezing Dean’s shoulder. “That way when Cas is done and ready to eat his own food, you can totally focus on him.”

That seems to snap Dean out of the panic spiral he looked like he was going down, and he’s visibly trying to make himself not look like that’s what was happening.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, looking away from the bathroom door. “Yeah, okay, good call.”

Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes when Dean turns around and starts digging through the bags.

He takes his impossible burger when it’s handed to him, and sits down with his back to the bathroom door to appease his brother.

Dean offers him a sheepish smile and sits across from his brother. His butt is barely in the chair when he takes a big bite out of his burger and well Sam, it’s now or never.

“Dean,” he starts, trying to find the right words for this.

“You kissed Cas.”

Well, okay, probably not the best start.

Dean frowns at him through the next big bite he takes and asks, mouth full, “So?”

Sam shifts uncomfortably in his seat, picking a stray piece of onion off the side of his burger.

“Well, Dean, you don’t... normally do that.”

Again, Dean’s got that look on his face like he thinks Sam has once and for all fully lost his mind.

“What the hell are you talking about, Sam? Of course I do.”

Please, God, he prays, wondering if Jack can hear him. I don’t want to have this conversation with my brother.

When nothing happens Sam groans, his hands coming up to rub his temples, “Dean, remember a couple weeks ago? That job with the coven?”

Dean takes a bite of a fry, staring blankly at Sam while he chews, “What about it? We beat them.”

God, please, a sinkhole, a lightning bolt, something.

“Yeah,” Sam sighs, his fingers working into his head harder. “And remember the spell that one of them tried with you right before Cas killed her...?”

Dean shrugs, taking another fry, “Yeah, and? It was a dud, it didn’t work.”

Would slamming his head against the table be too dramatic? Because that’s how this conversation is beginning to feel.

Sam sets his hands on the table, fully glaring at his brother, “It wasn’t a dud. It was a love spell, and it hit you, and you’re in love with Cas.”

Dean blinks at him for a moment, narrowing his eyes a little, “Yeah...” He’s speaking slowly, like Sam is either stupid or insane (he’s starting to really feel both), “That’s because I am.”

Because he’s nothing if not a true little brother, Sam groans and glares up at the ceiling, silently begging Jack to help him.

Of course he doesn’t, because he’s got bigger things to do and to worry about, but Sam feels like he’s being punished instead of Dean.

“Are you feeling okay, Sammy?” Dean takes another bite of his burger and keeps talking while he chews, “You’re acting really weird.”

Sam scrunches his face up in disgust, “Ugh, Dean, you’re gross. How does Cas even...”

Something makes Dean choke a little bit on the food in his mouth and it takes him a full minute to swallow it. Sam wants to laugh at the panic on Dean’s face because his brother is 42 going on 4, but he doesn’t.

“Sam, don’t even...” Dean glares at him warily, sneaking a look over at the bathroom, “Cas doesn’t... Y’know...” He makes a vague gesture with his hands and oh my god.

“Dean,” he starts, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “Do you...” Sam licks his lips, trying to resist the urge to scream at him, “Do you think that Cas doesn’t love you?”

And now Dean’s blushing and squirming in his seat like he’s 13 and somebody just asked him if his crush like him back and ohmygod, Sam is going to fling himself into traffic.

“He’s an Angel, man,” Dean hisses. “They don’t work like that.”

“I’m going to kill myself,” Sam groans loudly, letting his head fall forward with a thunk on the table. “Ow, fuck.”

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice interrupts them. He’s standing in between the bathroom door and the bed, wearing some of Dean’s old PJ’s.

(What? Sam’s not stupid, he wasn’t going to give Cas his PJ’s - what if they had sex on them or something? Gross.)

“We need to talk.”

Dean shrinks in on himself a little, not looking away from Cas, “Buddy, look, it’s not what it sounds like -“

Castiel rolls his eyes, his arms coming up to cross over his chest, “Dean, you kissed me.”

Again, he squirms a little in his seat, “So?”

Now at least, someone else is sharing in Sam’s pain.

Castiel sighs, “You haven’t done that since purgatory.”

And welp, holy shit, okay, that’s news.

Dean scoffs, taking a fry from Sam’s pile since his are all gone, “What??? That’s not true.”

“And you said you loved me,” Castiel grumbles, squirming himself now. “You’ve never said that to me before.”

“Well, I -“ Dean starts, shrugging, “I mean, I thought you knew?”

Castiel squawks, most definitely does not stomp his foot, “I don’t appreciate being... made fun of like this, Dean.” He’s trying to look pissed, but he’s just kinda radiating hurt so bad that Sam can feel it from all the way over here.

“I know it’s the spell that’s making you act like this, Dean, but I don’t appreciate you throwing my own words in my face so callously. It hurts.”

Sam’s brain comes to such an abrupt screeching halt that he wonders if they can hear it.

‘Throwing my own words’?! Does that...

“Cas,” Dean starts, finally getting up from his chair. “I’m not under any sort of spell, man. It’s just me in here.”

Castiel glares, unmoved, “You are, Dean, and the sooner we can fix it, the better.”

“I’m not!” He growls, returning his glare, “And I don’t appreciate you making fun of me either.”

“Guys!!” Sam yells to interrupt them, the tension getting a little too thick for his comfort, “Cas, Dean is under a love spell, but he’s also in love with you, you idiot.”

Sam turns to Dean and points at him, “And you, you absolute fucking moron, Cas said I love you, and you still don’t believe it?!”

Dean’s glare turns into something like a pout, “He was dying!”

Sam barely resists the urge to yell, and instead just asks as calmly as he can, “So?!”

“Well, I...” Dean frowns, looking down at his shoes.

Cas sighs, his voice much softer than before when he says, “Sam, I think your brother and I need to speak alone for a minute.”

Every ounce of tension and anxiety drains out of Sam’s body at once and he nods, running over to grab his bag and his food, “Thank Christ, I’ll be down the hall if you guys need me.”

Neither one of them says anything until the door’s closed behind him, and even then it takes Cas a minute to figure out what to say.

“Dean, will you...” he sighs, sitting on the bed again, “Will you please come here?”

Dean nods, reluctantly sitting down next to him.

He won’t even look at Cas and he’s going to drive Castiel insane one day. He’s going to lose his damn mind and throw this infuriating human through a wall.

“Look, I -“

“Cas, I -“

They both smile sheepishly at each other, each surprised that the other person said anything.

“No, you go ahead,” Dean says at the same time Cas says, “Apologies, Dean, you -“

They both laugh, some of the tension draining out of both of them.

Sam’s right, this whole thing is absurd.

“So...” Dean starts after a couple minutes, “We... don’t normally kiss.”

Castiel smiles, not taking his eyes off of his hands, “No, we don’t.”

“And I...” Dean winces, looking out the window across from them, “I’ve been under a love spell for the last couple weeks.”

This time, the smile is much more sad and less fond, “It would certainly appear that way.”

Something occurs to Dean and he groans, burying his head in his hands, “Oh my god.”

At that, Cas shifts on the bed so he’s angled towards Dean, a hand resting on his knee. “Dean, it’s alright...”

He shakes his head, refusing to look up from his hands because holy shit, he’s been under a spell for three weeks and he’s so damn gone on Cas that NOBODY NOTICED THE DIFFERENCE.

This is mortifying.

He flops backwards on the bed, groaning again, “Oh my god.”

“Dean,” Castiel sighs, sounding way more annoyed now. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Dean whines despite himself, flopping his arms down beside him on the bed, “Jack! Jack, damn it, I know you’re busy but I need your help!”

Castiel makes a frustrated noise, “Dean, I can lift the-“

A hand comes up and grabs his wrist before it can touch Dean, “No.” Dean’s voice is firm, even though he still won’t look at him.

“You need your mojo more than me. Heal.”

At that Castiel sighs, shaking his head, “Fine. Jack, my apologies for bothering you, but if you could please just...”

The curtains whoosh, and then Jack is standing at the foot of the bed. He smiles at them, big and open and oh so Jack.

“Hi Dean! Hi Cas!” He gives them a tiny wave before the smile falls off his face, “What’s wrong?”

Castiel squeezes Dean’s leg, “Dean is under a spell. I would lift it myself, but -“

Dean pushes himself up, trying to smile at Jack, “He’s hurt, needs his grace to heal. And I need this spell lifted, please.”

Jack nods, solemn, “Of course. Have you...?” He looks around the room, frowning when he realizes Sam isn’t here, “Have you tried a reversal spell?”

Again Dean sighs, “It’s... a couple weeks old. We don’t know what spell they used.”

That seems to be explanation enough for him, because then Jack is there next to them, and his hand is on Dean’s face.

He closes his eyes out of habit more than anything, holding his breath.

“...There,” Jack says after a moment. He removes his hand, grinning at them, “That should’ve fixed it.”

The difference is subtle. Dean feels exactly the same as he has for the last three weeks, but now he’s mortified and wants to crawl into a hole and die.

God, what was he thinking?? He doesn’t get to love Cas like that, not after everything.

Dean wants to disappear into the ether but he just returns the smile as best he can and nods, “Yeah-“ His voice cracks, “Yeah, uh, that did it.”

Castiel is watching him warily, but he does offer Jack a smile, “Thank you.”

Jack reaches out as if to heal him too, and Castiel just stops him with a shake of the head.

“Really Jack, I’m alright. I’ll be healed by tomorrow.”

He can feel Dean fidgeting next to him with the desire to bolt, to run away from the situation he’s created, so Cas silently asks Jack to leave them. Thankfully, miraculously, he still seems to hold some authority over him, and he does.

Dean tries to hop up as soon as he’s gone and Cas just tightens his grip on Dean’s leg.

“Dean Winchester -“ he starts, his mouth suddenly going dry with the question. Cas has to lick his lips a couple times to get his voice to start working, and he fights the urge to preen when he catches Dean chasing the movement with his eyes.

“Do you...” His voice cracks, “Do you really love me?”

Dean looks just like he did before the Empty took him. He’s barely holding back his tears and he’s terrified. His whole being is begging Cas not to do this, not to put everything on the line like this.

Because now, Castiel thinks he might understand what that face means. Don’t put everything on the line like this, don’t break my heart, don’t make me lose you again.

But oh my god, Cas is so tired. And much like Sam in the car, Cas has spent most of his time in the bathroom going over memories of the last twelve years with some new context.

“Dean...” His voice is soft as his hand comes up to rest on his cheek, “I meant what I said. I’ve loved you for a very long time.”

Dean closes his eyes, leaning into the hand, “Why?”

Castiel sighs, pushing some of his feelings through his Grace to meld with Dean’s soul. He’s never been good with words and he just - he needs Dean to know.

He needs Dean to know that he’s never seen anything more beautiful than Dean’s smile, than his soul, and Castiel saw the universe come to fruition. He is millions of years old and he never understood why humans do the things that they do until he met Dean. He’s never loved anything as much as he loves Dean, not even his father, and it terrifies him.

He shows Dean his memories - watching him rake leaves, pulling him out of hell, watching over him at night, that night before they interrogated Raphael. He shows him purgatory, that first time since that night they kissed. He shows him every moment since then that he’s been overwhelmed with the urge to kiss Dean and protect him and tell him how much he loves him.

He shows Dean the dreams that he’s visited, he shows him the heaven he’s designed for him when he’s ready, he shows him his own wildest dreams he never lets himself think about.

Cas shows Dean a dream of them in bed together, and a little girl jumping on the bed to wake them up on Christmas morning. He shows Dean a dream of him cooking in the kitchen, and Cas coming up behind him to kiss his shoulder. He shows Dean a dream of them when they’re 80, sitting in their rocking chairs on the front porch of their house while they watch their grandkids play in the yard. He shows Dean a dream where they get to grow old together, be happy, die with each other in their sleep.

Dean gasps despite himself, tears flowing freely and uncaring to stop them. He closes his eyes again and pushes his own feelings through the connection.

His soul is vibrating with all the love it feels because Dean has never loved anyone or anything like he loves Cas. He wants Cas to know that he makes Dean feel brave, he makes Dean feel like there’s something worth fighting for. He shows Cas how much he trusts him, wholly and completely. He shows him a memory of him choking back tears when he thought Cas was really gone after Sam killed Lilith. How sad and confused he was because he should’ve been happy and he just felt kinda empty.

He shows Cas the alternate universe where they shared a cabin, where Cas was a wreck, where they loved each other so much and so hard that they destroyed each other. He shows Cas every moment he wanted to kiss him, every memory he has where all he could think was “I love you, don’t do this to me.” He shows Cas purgatory, all that time fighting through everything with Benny to find him, how terrified and in love he was back then. He shows Cas everything, every moment he thought he was being obvious about it and apparently wasn’t.

The memories of every time he lost Cas leak in without his permission. Him drowning in grief, drowning in alcohol, drowning in rage, just drowning. How empty and hollow he felt every time and how scared he was. Because Cas makes him brave.

And then he shows him dreams - the two of them running an inn for hunters. The two of them waking up together, eating breakfast together, starting their day together. The two of them watching movies together with Dean’s head in his lap, their loved ones safe around them. Taking care of a new generation of hunters, babysitting Garth and Sam’s kids, making dinner for Claire and Kaia when they come visit on the way home from a hunt. The two of them with Jack on Christmas morning, Cas kissing him under the mistletoe, Cas dancing with him in the kitchen while Christmas dinner cooks.

Castiel opens his eyes, and oh. Oh, this is what that feeling is that Dean radiates sometimes. He gets feelings through their connection sometimes, when Dean prays, but he was never sure what this one was. It felt familiar and like it was supposed to be happy, but never fully got there.

Contentment.

Dean wants all of that and more with him, but he just needs Cas in his life. He’ll take him in whatever way he can have him.

“Oh,” he whispers, a smile on his face. “Oh, Dean, you’ve always had me.”

Dean looks like he’s barely holding it together.

He spent so long thinking that he was crazy, he was just projecting, Cas didn’t love him like that.

And here Cas was, drowning in it too the whole damn time.

This time when Dean pulls him in for a kiss, it’s much more gentle and slow. Neither one of them is good at being tender, but they’re both so scared of each other that it’s the only way they know how to touch anymore.

“Cas, I...” he mumbles in between kisses.

Castiel shushes him, taking Dean’s bottom lip in between his teeth, “I know, Dean. I know.”

Down the hall, Sam and Jack are watching some Disney reruns together. Jack offers him the box of red vines, “Would you like one, Sam?”

He shrugs and takes one without looking away from the tv, “Thanks.”

When the commercial break comes on Jack asks, “Do you think they’re okay in there?”

Sam snorts and takes a swig of his beer, “Yeah buddy, I think they’re okay.”