#he never left them enough money for food and when dean gets caught stealing food john leaves him in jail & group homes as punishment

[lakemichigans]

i haven’t been following any news about the supernatural prequel but i’m not going to watch it because i know they’ll be sucking john’s cock, balls and all as if we didn’t get enough of that in the show already

[fandoms-and-things]

So someone told me I should actually post my psychology assignment for adolescent psych...

Pop Culture Assignment

The long-running TV show, Supernatural, follows the story of two brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester, who repeatedly save the world from demons, monsters, angels, vampires, and any other number of mythical creatures. The show begins by flashing back to their childhood with the death of their mother as she bursts into flames on the ceiling above the cradle of the younger brother, Sam. Sam, Dean, and their father, John Winchester survive the fire and we later learn that it was all caused by a demon. From that day forth John Winchester makes it his life mission to avenge the death of his wife and begins spending his life as a “hunter” for supernatural creatures in the hopes that one day he’d come across the one that killed his wife. However, travelling from motel room to motel room back and forth across the country, facing dangerous creatures day in and day out is no healthy way to raise two children and this comes across very clearly in the parenting styles John uses and especially in how they affect the development of the elder son, Dean.

Supernatural is a show that has a very large fan following and thus has people all over the world dedicating hours upon hours a week to it - creating fanart, writing novel-length stories, or even analyzing the character’s every action to figure out their intrinsic motivations. Thus, in my analysis of the character of Dean Winchester and the effect his father’s parenting had on him, I would like to take into account the more popular subplots that fans have collectively believed to be true even if it is not directly evident in the media.

Parenting styles play an important role in the development of children to adolescents and beyond through the rest of their lives. There are four main parenting styles: authoritarian, authoritative, permissive, and neglecting. Authoritative consists mainly of high acceptance and high control, they are controlling but flexible such as making reasonable demands and explaining why they have those rules. Authoritarian parents have high control and low acceptance and are often highly restrictive, rely on punitive, forceful tactics, and are not sensitive to their child’s or viewpoints. Permissive parents practice low control and high acceptance - being very lax with establishing and enforcing rules and making few demands at all. Finally, neglecting or uninvolved parents are low control/ low acceptance, being extremely lax and may have either rejected their children or been completely overwhelmed by their own issues to worry about caring for their children All four parenting styles have different effects on the person they’re being used to parent. Authoritative parenting often leaves children in the best case scenario all around: happy, socially responsible, self-reliant, achievement-oriented, etc. Authoritarian parents leave children commonly less independent, less assertive, less achievement oriented, aimless, and unhappy. Permissive parents create children who may be impulsive, aggressive, bossy, self-centered, and lack self-control. Neglectful parents have children who are commonly aggressive, have behavioral problems, poor academic performance, hostile, and a higher likelihood of delinquent acts. These are only the beginnings of the effects the style of parenting used can affect their kids.

On Archive of Our Own, a popular fanfiction website, the tag “John Winchester’s A+ Parenting” has nearly 3,400 works posted. This tag is used in obvious satire as John Winchester often flip-flops between Authoritarian and Neglecting parenting styles. As the boys were growing up, John often gave them some money for food and then left them alone in various motel rooms for days on end as he went on trips to hunt the various supernatural creatures. Dean was always left in charge of his younger brother in these moments. Dean made it his job to take care of Sam to the best of his ability, and would sometimes have to forgo food for himself for days in order to keep his brother well fed. On at least one occasion, he had to resort to stealing food after the money he’d been left not being enough to last them as long as their father was gone, and when his father came to get him after he’d been caught he told the police to “let him rot in jail”. Dean grew to end up being the closest thing to a real parent figure for his brother; one Christmas, Dean lied to his brother saying that his father had come over night, decorated their dingy motel room and left presents, instead, Dean had done all this himself and stolen the presents from a house down the street to give to his brother. In later adolescence, Dean can be seen gambling and hustling pool, and his actor in one interview even suggests that he may have taken to sex work at some points to make extra money. These instances help display the neglecting side of John Winchester’s parenting and how it led Dean to commit delinquent acts. Dean also never graduated from high school and has a history of anger issues, all possibly stemming from neglectful parenting.

On the other hand, when John Winchester was around, he undoubtedly took on an authoritarian parenting style. He was a “my house, my rules” kind of guy, or in this case, “my car, my rules” since they spent so much time on the road. He had both boys call him “sir” and demanded them to “follow his direct orders” all of the time and would scold them if they stepped out of line, even resorting to physical discipline. John also taught Dean how to shoot before he was even ten years old. One day when their family-friend, Bobby, was babysitting them, he got scolded on the phone by John for playing catch with Dean instead of doing target practice with a shotgun. Growing up, Dean thought his father was a hero for hunting monsters and grew to idealize him and be the most loyal son he could be. Because of this, while father was still alive, Dean never really got the chance to develop emotional autonomy, his father would have found it disrespectful to ask for any kind of freedom and since Dean always wanted to please his father, he never even asked. Throughout the series, Dean is repeatedly referred to as his father’s “good soldier” or “Daddy’s blunt little instrument” insinuating further that Dean was extremely affected by his father’s authoritarian parenting style. Additionally, John Winchester also used some psychological control - influencing his child’s behavior by ignoring, discounting, belittling, withholding affection, and injecting shame and guilt. In one episode, Dean immediately knows his father is possessed because John said he was proud of Dean and Dean knew that would never happen under normal circumstances. Additionally, John is a man very preoccupied with being the “manliest man” he can be and made sure to instill this in his children at a young age and would use various language to belittle his sons showing any signs of weakness like by saying “stop being such a girl”, etc. Many fans have analyzed that Dean Winchester is bisexual and agree that this belittling would be the main cause of Dean’s internalized homophobia that he may not even come to terms with until in his 40s. All of this as well caused a lot of internalizing and externalizing issues for Dean, shattering his self-esteem and making him afraid to be open with his emotions. Overall, I would say that John Winchester’s two negative extremes in terms of parenting style greatly impacted the overall wellbeing of his sons and especially his eldest, Dean.

[now-im-a-belieber]

dinner and diatribes

a/n: Hello! I put it off as long as I could but I just HAD to start writing. So, Here it is, my first BoB fic! Any and all feedback is appreciated.

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After graduating and settling into the swing of the life you wanted to live, the universe seemed to actively work against you.

You did not get accepted into the college of your dreams. And the underfunded local university you wasted away at was the bane of your existence. You could barely land a job with all the hours you were required to stick to campus, and only made enough money walking dogs and watering plants to pay for tuition and the occasional new outfit. 

When you started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, with a few hundred saved away, and some time opening up to find career opportunities, the chatter about war turned from gossip to gospel. 

In fact, you'd made it all the way to the opposite side of a fine mahogany desk for your first full fledged interview when your dreams were promptly crushed. The man meant to interview you rushed in with flustered news he'd only just found out himself. He told you the company was shutting down. All the nation's money was being sorted to aid in the war. The president had called for rationing to start. 

The man was near tears when he asked you to leave, replacing a goodbye with a hopeful wish you might be able to come back again one day. 

You marched home at a loss. And the worst thing of all, was the fact that you didn't seem to have anyone to talk to about it all.

The best of your friends had moved away one by one, well meaning phone calls only coming from a couple now and again. Some weekends you managed a stroll through the park with Janice Dean. And you hadn't missed a single one of Rudy Delacroix's card parties. But the one friend you'd always been able to call upon seemed ever less interested in being a part of your life. 

Joe was busy as everyone else, you knew. But when he started canceling long standing plans, and forcing smiles when you skipped up to ask him on a last minute adventure, you realized something must have been very wrong. 

Over breakfast you'd prod him for answers. He'd joke about the state of the world and steal what was left on your plate. So, nothing could have been too wrong. Right?

Joe always entertained your random stops by, and offered you drinks and listened to you complain about uni. He’d curse the place and drag you to pubs and sneak you into films and waste hours by the waterfront laughing about nothing with you. He’d go great lengths to help you forget your dreary days, even if just for a moment. But lately you noticed Joe had stopped trading his own complaints- the kind he claimedvno one else would tolerate hearing besides you. 

And then… he stopped talking at all. Right when you figured it was time to ask what the hell the matter was. Joe wasn't at his place last you swung by, like you so often did. He didn't come around yours like he so often managed. He didn't answer his phone when you rang, and a real worry sprouted through you when the next time you tried, the line went dead.

And then you did see Joe. At the local grocer. You spotted his profile across the aisle and moved to meet him. And he clearly saw you too. When he did, he moved the other way, and disappeared from the stall all together, leaving you to panic over what you might've said or done to upset him so.

You went about your mundane week with a heavy heart. While you seemed to lose hope in the very near future, the world spiralled out of control outside of your windows. And you had no one to talk to about it. Until Joe's mother called. 

"Come round for dinner, won't you love?"

"Of course, ma." You'd been calling the woman by her motherly title since you and Joe first fused at the hip some odd years back. Since then his family had included you in most every occasion they could manage. Until a certain someone up and broke tradition a week or so ago...

"Great! Joe didn't want a big send off but we all know he'll want you to join in the last big family meal before he goes.”

His mother chirped through a sigh that crackled from the other line. And in her all too casual remark lied a clear answer to the impasse you'd been facing. 

"He what?" You asked low, through your teeth, with a sense of urgency you'd never felt in life, till now. 

"He didn't tell you did he?" Joe's mother seemed to ask less more than she seemed to realize; and before you could think up the right thing to say, you slammed the phone down, grabbed your purse, and flew out the door. 

Of course this was happening. How had you failed to realize? You shouldn't have had to realize. Joe should have told you he was shipping out. Everyone seemed to be. But he should have said so. He'd always told you everything. From the embarrassing to the inconsequential, Joe hadn't held back from droning deadly details to you since he'd started. The fact that something this detrimental had been hidden away sent smoke from your ears as you marched toward his family's home. 

The windows across the little brick cottage were all opened, the late day breeze blowing you up the porch steps. You traded knocking for bursting in the door. There wasn't time left to waste. And the realization hit you all at once… but you had a mission to complete before becoming all too overwhelmed. 

Joe's mother ducked out of way, a tray of warm food in hand. She did not try and stop your storm through the kitchen. The only one you’d taken by surprise was Joe, who turned from the sink with eyes as wide as empty dinner plates. 

"You didn't tell me?" You seethed, heading straight for him. Joe started to back away, moving toward the patio doors with his hands held in a pitiful defense. 

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry?!"

He kept moving. So you marched after him, out into the yard; shouting all the way asking how the hell he could've kept this from you. How you were supposed to cope with all the worry you’d feel the longer he spent storming the front lines. Asking, flippantly, if he’d tell you what it was all like, or if you’d have to find out from a soldier who'd come knocking to tell the last of Joe’s news.

"I said I'm fuckin' sorry." Joe boomed, stopping near the trees that lined his family's property. You didn’t regret your frantic interrogation but you wished voicing your worst fears of losing him for good hadn’t been what finally got Joe to say something like he meant it.

You halted when he did, stunned to silence. But only for a beat. You watched Joe sigh and bring his hands to his face. 

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" You pressed, much quieter but with disappointment ever present in your tone. You stepped a little closer, willing your friend to speak up. At least now you could see he was trying too. Joe tossed his head back, and shifted his weight to lean against a dying tree. 

"I don't know." He shrugged finally. It wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it was more than you had in awhile.

"I-I guess I didn't know how to." Joe spoke in a tone you'd never quite heard him use before. A terribly hopeless croak. 

"Didn't know how to tell me?" You had to laugh a little. All you ever did was tell each other things. 

"Didn't know how to leave you." Joe pointed, like it was obvious. You watched his jaw clench as you were baffled into silence once more. But only for a second.

"Well it seems like you've only got one night left to figure out how." You wanted to cry. "Thanks for wasting all the time we could've spent figuring it out together." 

You started to turn, only to hide the tears stinging your eyes. But as you stepped aside, Joe wrapped his hand around your wrist and yanked you to face him again.

"I'm an idiot but I am not stupid enough to let you go." He said, still keeping his hold on you. 

"I panicked." Joe admitted, speaking softly all of sudden. "And I’m sorry. And I don't ever want anything like that to ever happen again. I won't let it." 

You studied Joe and the look on his face and the way his eyes searched yours so easily, so acutely. Part of you wanted to keep shouting, to really drive home how abandoned you’d felt. But you could see how he'd withered under the weight of knowing so. But you couldn't even begin talking about what was meant to happen next... it was all too overwhelming. For as long as you could remember, you'd never not been near one another. 

"I wished I never had to find out how shitty a day without you felt. I'll always regret bringing it on.

As your mind raced and your heart ached, your brow furrowed when Joe started to move away from you. His spare hand latched onto your other wrist. And he knelt.

"I didn't mean to leave you out. I never want to again." Joe emphasized each word as he strung them together. And after a long pause he spoke again. "So...marry me?"

You wanted to laugh. A good hearty nausea inducing laugh. You could admit to yourself that over the years, in the very depths of solitude, you'd secretly wished for a moment like this, with Joe. But never in a zillion years, least of all now, had you seen it coming. 

You felt Joe's grip tighten as you blinked, bending ever so slightly closer to meet his eye.

"You're fucking crazy." You said, a montage of this week playing through your head. 

"Please." Joe desperately whispered. He wasn't begging you to be with him. He was only hoping that the two of you might make your always being together official. How could you say no?

"Yeah. Yes, of course, Joe-" You finally let a small chuckle escape as your tears started to bubble over. And before you'd finished stammering acceptance, Joe sprung to his feet and lifted yours off the ground in a long overdue embrace. 

He set you down and caught his breath and you started to lean in with a new, unabashed desire to press yours lips to his. But the guy spoke up with a gasped realization.

"Oh, I have got some good news." He grinned, mischievously. You only rose a brow and waited for the penny to drop. 

"I don't leave for a week." 

You understood every possibility that came from his news, and found despite every grim reality closing in around the two of you that the future was full of blindingly bright silver linings. 

Joe lifted you off the ground again, this time as he moved to start back inside. You bargained for him to put you back down, as he carried you toward the kitchen.

"We're getting married!" Joe called to whoever might've been around to listen. 

"That was quick. And just in time for dinner." His mother chirped, as you were returned to solid ground.

"Quick? I've been tryin' to do that since sometime after highschool." Joe pointed, following as you sauntered further in the room, smoothing your clothes and hiding a blush. 

"I meant the two of you have spatted longer over the color of the sky." His mother held a whisk your way, while fixing her eyes on her son. "I'm glad you worked this one out in record time." 

Joe reached for your hand as you stood, listening best you could, all of your senses entirely preoccupied by the man at your side. 

"And have you finally come to this joyous conclusion?" His mother softened, abandoning her dishes to shuffle toward the two of you. She gave out hugs and squeaks of excitement and gasped before taking off around the corner. She beckoned the two of you to follow her, and after a shared chuckle you did. 

His mother was stood at the vanity in her room, waving the pair of you in. And after only a second of pilfering through draws, did she pull out a ring. She gave it to Joe and said it was his grandmothers. The spritely woman shot you a beaming wink before creeping out of the door she'd only just invited you into. 

Then it was just you and Joe. Like usual. At fucking last.

He said nothing as he reached out to pull you nearer. He bit back a smile as he slid the diamond on your finger. Joe broke your admiration of the thing by placing both his hands on either side of your face. And he kissed you like you always dreamed of being kissed. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back like you always secretly longed to do. 

You spent the rest of that night squished between him and his family at the dinner table, like usual. They celebrated your news. And there was very little talk of where Joe was headed. But when he brought up the war and his leaving, he held your hand under the table and you felt the hug of the gold band around your finger and couldn't find reason to worry too much. You’d have time enough for that later. You'd miss him. You already did, a little. 

But you'd gotten through the worst yet, and come out of it hand in hand. But before he left, till heaven only knew when, you’d officially and always be together.

[worksongdean]

so like this isn’t gonna be coherent at all but bear with me, bc i just watched the bad boys ep for the first time (i’ve been putting it off for Reasons™️) and uhhhhhhh insert that john mulaney “now we don’t have time to unpack ALL of that” meme but like i’m gonna try.

So first things first: John Winchester aka shittiest dad of the millennia. This may be an unpopular opinion but after watching bad boys I can comfortably say that John Winchester is an even worse father than god was. GOD. I was gonna brush over the fact that we all knew which is John probably didn’t even give Dean enough money for food to begin with, BUT upon thinking about it that’s a more important point than it seems because when Dean is first explaining to Sam why he went to a boys’ home he says he lost the money playing cards. Now at first that might just seem like some irresponsible teenage shit, but when you think about it it’s not because Dean was probably playing that card game in the first place because he knew John hadn’t given them enough money so he was trying to get more, but through some bad luck or whatever he ends up losing it instead. That then causes Dean to have to steal food because how else is he going to feed Sam, because let’s face it that boy was not thinking about feeding himself at that point, evidenced by when Sonny confronts Dean about him being hungry after the cop leaves in the first flashback. So then Dean gets caught and when John is told that Dean’s been arrested for stealing food, aka taking care of Sam, aka doing the ONE THING John has been hammering into his head since he was 4 years old, he tells the officer that Dean “can rot in jail”...... WHAT KIND OF BACKWARDS ASS SHITTY ASS PARENTING.....anyway I digress. Now imagine being Dean, 16 years old trying to be a mother and a father to his 12 year old little brother because their actual dad pretty much left them to starve while he was off on some revenge quest, and hearing that said father has abandoned him for doing the one thing he had always taught Dean to do. I know Dean is an emotionally repressed bastard even as a teen, but dear god I wanted him to burst into tears when he heard that. Not because I think he deserves to be upset, but yes I do think he deserves to be upset. Let me explain. I wish Dean never had to go through what he went through, but he deserved to feel upset that his father was gonna let him “rot in jail”, because what kind of a father does that? Dean deserved to feel that pain and heartbreak instead of bottling it all up and pushing it down. Also as an aside because I just remembered, why the hell is the cop (this is a rhetorical question bc cops are shit and it was the 90s) that arrested Dean not suspicious as fuck when this father says his son can “rot in jail” for stealing some bread and peanut butter?

Okay moving on before I become even more unhinged over John Winchester’s shitty parenting. Next I want to talk about Dean’s stay at Sonny’s and what that means to me in light of the finale. So we find out that he only stayed at Sonny’s for 2 months, which I honestly thought he was there for longer but anyways. It’s in that 2 months that we find out just how much Dean thrives in a normal home environment, or as normal as he can get anyway. As we find out in the diner flashback with Sonny, Dean is doing good in school, he’s making friends, and he’s joined the wrestling team which why join a sports (which he is very good at, looking at you championship certificate) team if he doesn’t plan on sticking around but again I digress. Now I know we tend to say that at Dean’s point in life now (bc he’s not dead fuck the finale) he wouldn’t be able to deal with/wouldn’t want the whole apple pie life, but at 16 years old Dean still hasn’t gotten fully entangled in the hunter lifestyle. Dean doesn’t want to be a hunter and for the first time (and probably last time bc I sincerely doubt Dean thought he had actually gotten out with Lisa and Ben), he sees a viable way out. Aside from Sonny’s talk with Dean at the diner, we also see evidence of this in Dean’s flashbacks of him and Robin, especially the one during their guitar lesson. When he and Robin are talking about what they want in life, Dean says he doesn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps. He dreams of being a rockstar and wants to be a mechanic, a job where once he’s done with the cars (cases) he can let them go and he doesn’t have to worry about carrying them with him when he’s done with them. He dates this girl, he takes cute pictures with her, he wants to take her to a school dance. He begins to settle into a normal life in one place in a way he hasn’t been able to since he was four years old. And it all gets ripped away by his father who abandoned him, who only comes back for Dean when it’s convenient for him, because that’s all he sees Dean as, a soldier, daddy’s blunt instrument. And Dean is devastated that he’s losing his chance at a normal life. We see that he is visibly upset, even if it’s just for a minute before he pushes it away because even though Sonny told him that sometimes he needs to do things for himself, he still needs to take care of Sam.

Which brings me to the finale. God is gone and for the first time in his life Dean gets a true chance at freedom and the chance to live his life the way he wants to. (This is solely about Dean so I’m not even gonna talk about Cas and destiel bc that’s a whole ‘nother post.) In the beginning of the hellscape that is the finale, we see Dean getting to sleep in and waking up to his dog jumping into his bed, we see him go to a pie festival with his brother just because he wants to. With no big bad to chase after he goes to this festival that before would have been a trivial thing, but now it’s something he goes to because he can. Because for the first time in his life he gets to decide what he wants to do with it. And that includes hunting. Like I said before, I doubt Dean would ever be able to completely give up hunting. It’s something he’s good at and he likes helping people. He wants to help people. And if that means the occasional motw hunt between shifts at the garage, because even 25 years later Dean still wants to be a mechanic, then so be it.

Now what really gets on my fucking tits is that while on one of these routine hunts, a “milk run” as Dean would say, something that he has done hundreds, possibly thousands of times before, Dean is killed. This man who has spent his whole life doing what other people wanted, who sacrificed himself over and over again for the people he loved, even when they left him, is killed the second he gets the chance to do what he wants and just live. What’s worse is the fact that this hunt was one of John’s old cases that he failed to solve, because even from the grave John Winchester is still able to ruin his son’s life.

Now aside from the whole “bury your gays” problem, because I firmly believe Dean was killed for being queer, what kind of a message does that send to your audience? That no matter how hard you may work for a good and happy life, no matter how much you may want it don’t you dare think you deserve to have it. Especially if you’re queer, neurodivergent, suicidal, whatever. In the end you’re just a pawn for everyone else in your life

[suncityblues]

Bad Luck and Sunshine

Part 1/5 - SPN - 3k words 

read on AO3

He can fit all his worldly possessions on the passenger seat of his car.

Car keys, red bic lighter, a toothbrush in a ziplock bag. Cellphone, charger, brown faux leather wallet. A maxed out credit card with the name James Ledbetter on it, and a fake ID to match the card. Fourteen American dollars, one Canadian quarter, a Blimpie’s buy-one-get-one coupon.

A pen with the name of a bank on it, a tin of salt. A paperback with a four leaf clover carefully pressed into the pages between the title and the acknowledgments, and that’s it.

Castiel taps the book in the spot where the clover is pressed. He can feel the slight bump of it.  

“They’re supposed to be good luck,” Dean had told him with a shrug when Cas asked why he was rooting around in the grass that day. Dean had handed Cas the book with the clover inside and said, “I used to search for them sometimes when I was a kid. It’s dumb but, hey, I figure we could use all the luck we can get.” Dean had smiled softly then, a bit sheepish. The tips of his ears had gone red.

Back then the world had been ending, so Cas supposed Dean was right, they could use luck.

He remembers trying to be encouraging, saying something about the placebo effect that made Dean roll his eyes and laugh at the same time. He can’t quite recall the specifics of it anymore.

A while later he had reached out to the clover with his grace and found nothing particularly special about it, but kept it and the book anyway. He reaches out again, now, with what little of his power he has left. It’s still just as lucky as any other dead plant.

He takes stock of his possessions again, focusing in particular on the fourteen American dollars and the one Canadian quarter. He checks how much gas he has left in his car and it’s not much. If he keeps going he’ll have to choose between food and gas, just to run out of it again anyway.

He needs to eat sometimes now, and drink water. He needs a shower and a bed if he can get them. Clothes, shoes, soap, toothpaste. All of it costs money, and to get money you have to trade time. Castiel has always found that a little ridiculous but it’s not like he makes the rules anymore.

He’s been pulled over in a dark parking lot in a truck stop town called Laurel for a while now thinking about what to do. Sam and Dean had set him up with the card and the fake ID before he left and Cas doesn’t want to ask them for any more help. He decides Laurel is as good a place as any other to get stuck in.

It’s 9:52 on a Tuesday.

++

A day and a half later Castiel is once again employed at a gas station. He’d tried a diner, a vegetable canning factory, a hardware store, and a rundown CVS but the gas station is the first place that got back to him. They were short staffed after someone named Ricky had walked out, and desperately needed a replacement. Kendra, the manager, had said “it’s like you were sent by an angel!” When she read through his mostly fictional work history. It had made Cas laugh.

This one is called Sunshine Gas and Go. They have to wear ugly yellow polo shirts that say “Let me know how I can help make your day sunny!” On the back. They keep the beer on the left side of the cooler bank instead of the right and the jerky next to the self-serve coffee but aside from that it’s remarkably similar to a Gas-N-Sip.

He wonders bleakly if he should have been the patron of gas stations while he had the ability.

The angel of Thursday, the angel of gas stations, that’s Cas. The guardian of the spaces you have to pass through on your way to better days, better places.

He sometimes wonders how Nora’s doing; if her kid’s okay.

++

It takes Sam and Dean five weeks to cave and check in on him. Cas has been in Laurel for the last three.

They pretend to be on their way back from a hunt, a totally routine salt and burn, and just so happen to be refueling at that particular gas station in this particular truck stop, exactly fifteen minutes after his coworker leaves Cas alone to cover the overnight shift. It’s an obvious and flimsy excuse to make sure he’s okay, but he’s known them long enough to understand that obviousness and flimsy excuses to see one another are gestures of affection in the Winchester family. He finds it somewhat exhausting to witness, and even more so to experience but he doesn’t call them out on it.  

He does, however, make pointed eye contact with Sam who waves his hands in a placating gesture behind Dean’s back and excuses himself to go stare at the overpriced air fresheners on the other side of the store. He had hoped Sam, at least, would have had the sense to text first.

On the counter next to the cash register there’s a plastic bin with a picture of a bald child in a hospital bed taped to it and some loose change inside. Dean picks the can up, looks inside it, shakes it a bit, puts it down. It’s mostly empty.

“You’d think people’d be a little more generous, what with the cancer kid at stake and all,” he says. When Cas doesn’t immediately reply Dean continues, “Or is this one of those, uh, charity scams? You know, where the evil mega corporation asks you to pretty please donate so they can use it as a tax write off?”

Castiel shrugs, he doesn’t know what the Sunshine Gas and Go does with the money. Says: “I’m not sure, Dean.”

He pretends not to see Dean stick some gum from the display under the counter into his coat pocket. He’s watched Dean do this before to other casheers, leaning close to flirt and making off with what he can. Cas supposes old habits die hard. The gum is sugar free cinnamon.

Dean sees him pretending not to see. He smiles big and bright, his nose does a little crinkle that Cas always liked. The term “shit eating grin” comes to mind, Cas must have heard it somewhere, probably about Dean that time too. He rolls his eyes and says, “How was your hunt? Were you or Sam hurt at all?” He can’t do much besides heal minor cuts and bruises these days, but for the Winchesters he’d still offer what he can.

Dean waves him off, “Fine, fine, got shoved around a bit but it’s nothing a cold compress and a good night’s sleep can’t fix.”

“Speaking of,” Dean segues in a breezyl tone Castiel knows is dangerous territory, “Where are you sleeping these days? You gotta sleep now right?”

The ghost of Rexford sits heavy between them, though it’s been years since then. Cas realizes being back at a gas station might have caught Dean off guard, or felt like some kind of dig at him. He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s just bad luck, and he’s not sure Dean would believe him if he did.

This time around he’s not squatting in the back room with the cleaning chemicals but he is sleeping in his car, just until he has enough money for a place to stay or decides to hit the road again. He knows that’s not anything Dean wants to hear.

“Yes, Dean, I need to sleep” he answers, then pauses. He considers lying but it never works out when he does, and this isn’t life or death; just embarrassing.

Besides, Sam and Dean are observant and thorough even during a glorified social visit, so Cas figures they’d put two and two together as soon as they walked in the door. There’s no way they hadn’t clocked his too-big thrift store jeans under the uniform shirt, or the circles under his eyes. The way his beard is a little patchy from shaving in the bathroom mirror in the truck stop visitor center. It’s likely they’d found his car in it’s discreet parking space at the edge of the lot before coming into the Sunshine Gas and Go.

Cas tries tactful honesty: “I’m saving up.”

And it’s true, he is, though he’s not sure what he’s saving up for. But every Friday he gets a paycheck and brings it to the check cashing place in town. After the fee, and groceries, and little necessities he carefully stores what little he has left in the locked glove compartment of his car, under the book with the clover in it.

Dean’s lips press flat together. He stops leaning over the counter and stands at his full height. He makes an aborted head shaking gesture. He speaks like there’s an awful taste in his mouth.

“So,” he says, slightly too loudly to pay it off as cool. Out of the corner of his eye Castiel sees Sam’s head wip towards them, no longer pretending he’s not eavesdropping.

“So, ah—“ Dean repeats, “you’re gonna, what? Drift around? Lay low in some podunk shit hole for the rest of your life?“ he stops, puts his hands on the counter to steady himself, or to keep from reaching over and grabbing him, Cas isn’t sure. A beat.

“You know what?” Dean says, “Nevermind.”

Cas deflates. He knows Dean disagrees with him leaving so soon after becoming human again, and feels guilty about so many things it’s hard for Cas to keep track of them all, but he knows he couldn’t stay either. Just like lying to the Winchesters, it never works out in the end. With almost no power, he’s no help to anyone, not Sam and Dean, not heaven, not even himself. It hurts to think about but maybe that’s just part of being human.

“Dean—“ he starts to say but he’s cut off.

“Don’t worry about it, man” Dean says, he taps the counter twice with his knuckles, “nice place you got here. I’m glad you’re doing alright.”

Dean swallows and abruptly turns to leave, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. Cas watches him go until Sam comes to the counter with two bottles of water, a coffee, and an energy bar.

He puts a twenty down, says apologetically, “For this stuff and whatever Dean stole on his way out.”

“Gum,” Cas supplies, and slides the twenty back towards Sam. “Don’t worry about it,” he says.

The cameras don’t work inside the store, and according to Joanna, the only reason they’re still up at all is to deter would-be armed robbers. Castiel watches less deserving people steal from them all the time, so it doesn’t seem worth it to take Sam’s money.

Sam shakes his head and gives him a flat smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes his things but leaves the twenty. Says, “See you around, Cas.” He pauses for a moment, and seems to debate something with himself. Then: “Check in sometimes if you can, okay? You know how Dean can be when he gets worried.”

Castiel knows. He waves to Sam as he walks off into the dark.  

Cas checks the gum display, then manually rings up the items Sam bought. He puts the change into the plastic jar with the kid in the hospital bed on it.

++

A few days later a woman comes in with a ghost behind her. Cas checks the time to keep from gaping. 11:27 AM.

The ghost is a man, perhaps in his mid forties. Too young to be dead, but Cas supposes most people feel that way when they die, no matter how old. When the woman comes to the counter and gives him thirty dollars to put on pump six he sees a wedding ring on a chain around her neck. He puts two and two together.

“That’s a lovely necklace” he says, he looks directly at the ghost when he says it. They make eye contact. The ghost does a sharp inhale for a moment and the lights flicker. The ghost disappears.

Cas frowns, “Sorry about that. It happens all the time,” he lies. He wonders if he could purify the ghost with what powers he has left, that way she wouldn’t have to burn her wedding ring.

The woman seems caught off guard, then smiles politely.

“No worries, it happens all the time at my house too. Must be a faulty power grid in this town or something, my kids swear it’s a ghost or something,” she says.

There’s an apprehensive edge to her voice then, hastily: “have a good one.”

“You too,” Cas says. He thinks about following her out, trying to explain. He thinks about texting Sam and Dean.

The slushie machine makes a mechanical crunching sound and suddenly there’s red goop all over the ground.

Joanna starts yelling and runs for the mop. He goes to unplug the machine and gets sticky pink syrup all over his last clean pair of pants. The ghost slips his mind.

++

Two days later Dean shows up by himself. It’s 6:43 in the morning on a Tuesday.

Cas has been finished with work for fifteen minutes already but there’s a rush at the end of his shift so he says on to help Javier and Kendra out. It’s mostly people stopping for gas on their way to work, or truckers picking up breakfast before heading back on the road. He doesn’t mind sticking around in the mornings, everyone’s usually too tired to be angry and it’s a nice break from the drunks and the sad eyed kids he usually meets on overnights. The extra money doesn’t hurt, either.

Cas doesn’t notice Dean until he’s placing two coffees on the counter in front of them.

His first words are a surprised, “Oh, hello Dean. Where’s Sam?” Which makes Dean huff, and shift from one foot to the other.

“Not here,” he says, then points at the coffee closest to Cas, “That one’s for you. Milk, no sugar still, right?” Cas nods. He knows this is Dean Speak for an apology. He can feel Javier and Kendra look over at them from behind the other register and the cigarette display, respectively.

Dean smiles, all charm but Cas can tell his face looks a little more drawn than usual, like he’d been driving for too long without a break, “You get off work soon?”

Kendra answers for him, “Yes, he does.” She has a maternal look on her face when Cas turns to her. Javier rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“Shoo,” she says, with a smile. She points at the slogan on his uniform shirt, “Go have a sunny day, James.”

Dean nods, “Yeah, James. Have a sunny day.” There’s that smile again.

Cas closes out his register and gets his coat from the back room. Dean’s waiting for him outside, drinking his coffee and leaning against the Impala. The lighting is the soft grey-blue of the morning, and it feels nice compared to the white fluorescents of the store.

Before Cas can say anything Dean scrubs at the back of his neck, then says, “This coffee tastes like piss. Let’s get breakfast.”

++

There’re a few diners in town but Cas has never been to any of them. Dean picks one on a whim, because the sign has a 1950’s pinup girl in a skimpy waitress uniform.

It’s warm inside and smells nice, like syrup and strong coffee. Dean orders something called The Lumberjack Platter and when Cas tells the waitress, “Just coffee, thanks” Dean overrides it and orders him scrambled eggs with a side of sausage and toast.

“My treat,” Dean says. Cas shakes his head but doesn’t fight him on it.

Dean avoids talking about anything personal. Instead they mostly chat about the case Sam and Dean are currently working on. Apparently they’ve hit a wall with the research and Sam’s been holed up at the bunker for days pouring over blueprints and hacked security footage. There’s a cursed object in a locked bank vault in Little Rock that’s making people have violent outbursts. The questions are: why did it start acting up now, which lock box it’s in, and how to get to it.

Cas wishes he could still fly, then at least he’d be able to solve two of their problems. He runs the idea of trying to find a spell to make the object useless by Dean and Dean types it into his phone to send to Sam. A moment later it lights up with a call but Dean mutes it and sticks the phone back in his pocket.

Dean changes subjects and tells him about the latest Dr. Sexy storyline, about a vampire nest he took out a few years back, about running into Garth in Topeka. Cas talks about the gas station a bit but mostly just listens. He always likes listening to Dean talk.

++

When they leave the diner and get back into the Impala, Cas realizes this is the first time he’s enjoyed himself in a long while. He smiles over at Dean, expecting to be asked where he’d like to be dropped off. He’s thinking about the park by the river on the far side of town, it’s a long walk back to the truck stop but he likes to watch the  trees shift in the wind and the fresh air there is a nice change from diesel fumes. Instead Dean says, “You still don’t got a place to stay right?”

Cas nods cautiously. He puts his hand on Dean’s upper arm and, not willing to let the day go south, says sternly, “I assure you Dean, while I’m not strictly an angel anymore I still don’t need nearly as much rest as you or Sam do…”

Dean nods at the steering wheel, his jaw moving. Cas can tell he’s also trying to not turn this into a fight.

Dean shifts towards him, Cas keeps his hand firmly on Dean’s arm. The energy in the car changes and suddenly Cas realizes where this is going. Dean puts one hand on his waist and the other comes to rest on Cas’ neck behind his ear. Cas breathes in sharply.

“Dean,” he says, then he broaches the subject he’d been painstakingly avoiding all morning: “Why did you come here today?”

Dean blushes and goes still for a moment, he swallows but doesn’t say anything. After a moment tugs him in gently and Cas takes pity on him. Dean tastes like maple syrup.

It’d been a while since they’d done this, but they fall back into it easily. After a few moments of kissing Dean pulls back. Their foreheads and noses are still touching and they’re breathing hard.

“What I was trying to say was, uh,” his ears get red at the tips, “that I got a room at that Budget Motel by the gas station.”

All Cas can think of to reply is, “Oh, I’d like to see it.”

It makes Dean laugh and wiggle his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah wanna come up and see my art collection?” He says. Cas doesn’t know what he’s talking about but he likes that Dean keeps his hand on his thigh while they drive.

++

By the time Cas wakes up for his next shift Dean is gone. There’s a text on his phone that says Sam finally had his breakthrough based on something Cas had said. Then a second one that tells Cas the room is paid through till the end of the week. He can stay in it or not, doesn’t matter to Dean one way or the other. A third one that just says: Thanks.

Cas lays in bed for a moment enjoying the soft sheets and suddenly remembers the ghost.

++++++++++

Thanks for reading :)

[queenlists]

Way back home.

A/N: This is a fluffy story involving Dean and the reader. I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you all for your support ✌

Post date: 12/08/2019

“We met at a convenience store when we were just little kids.”

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

“You know, if you get caught you’re going to go to prison?” I sighed, looking at the young boy who had to be my age shoving chips down his pants’ pockets. “You know, if you don’t shut up you’re going to get beat up?” the young boy hissed, walking away from me towards the drinks. Biting the inside of my cheek, I followed behind him to watch. The boy shoved drinks into a backpack, looking around cautiously until his eyes fell on me. He groaned, rolling his eyes “Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but can you go?” “Why are you stealing?” I stepped closer. “Why are you so nosy?” the young boy rolled his eyes, smoothing out his pockets. I shrugged, watching the young boy try to conceal the stolen goods “Just curious. I also have money, so if you give up the information then I can give this to you.” I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill that I had just gotten that day, waving it in front of the young boy with a big smirk on my face. “Why do you want to know so bad?” “Maybe I could be the Bonnie to your Clyde?” I giggled while flashing the young boy the contents of my purse: snacks that would never get paid for. The boy smiled, looking down “My name’s Dean. I’m just trying to get some food for my little brother and I. Our dad is out on a job.” “Let me guess, he left you in that creepy motel right across the street?” The young boy cocked an eyebrow at me “How’d you know?” “My parents do the same. Often.” I cleared the sob from my throat, shoving the twenty in his hand. “If you’re gonna steal, do it right.” I continued, smoothing out his pockets. I backed away, giving Dean a small smile before grabbing a chocolate bar to pay for at the cash register.

My parents warned me to stay indoors at all times unless I was extremely low on food and drinks because I was a young girl in a sketchy town, but after meeting Dean I became restless. I couldn’t even finish my frozen dinner because Dean was on my mind. A kid living a life similar to mine was a rare find for me. I would peek through the curtains in hopes of catching sight of Dean, but that didn’t happen. It didn’t happen for weeks. Eventually, I just gave up. He was probably long gone by now.

I skipped down the street, humming to myself. I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn’t bother to pay them any attention. It wasn’t until the footsteps began to increase their pace that I felt alarmed. My heart thumping out of my chest, I began to run. “Hey! It’s just me.” I quickly stopped when I heard that familiar voice. A big smile spread across my face as I spun around to see Dean. “I never caught your name.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, as his cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “(Y/n),” I looked away from Dean as I felt my own cheeks start to heat up. “We should go out for ice cream sometime. I saved that money for whenever I saw you again. You, Sammy, and I could all go out together.” “That sounds fun. Let’s go now!” I suggested, holding my hand out to Dean. Dean stared at my hand as if this gesture was foreign to him before taking my hand in his, leading me back to his place to get Sam.

We ended up spending every day together to the point where I decided to move all of my stuff to theirs. There were only two beds, so Dean would sleep with Sam while I got the other bed to myself. We all got along well. My parents sent me enough money to sustain all three of us. Everything was as perfect as things could be for kids in adult situations until the reality of how short our time was together showed up.

“Boys, get packed. We gotta go to the next town.” I listened carefully, not moving. The room was dark as I watched the strange figure navigate his way through the messy room, soon finding the light to turn it on “Boys!” the man’s voice boomed throughout the room causing me to wince. The man quickly looked at me as I quickly hid under the covers. “Who is this?” I heard the man’s footsteps come closer and closer until he was right there. “Dad, she’s a friend.” Dean yawned. I heard the bed he was in creak as he came to me, pulling the covers off of me. “Her name is (Y/n). She bought me snacks, dad!” Sam beamed, crawling out of bed to run to his father for a hug. “Where are your parents, sweetheart?” The man held Sam as he smiled at me gently. “I have no clue,” I whimpered. I knew that him being back meant Dean and Sam were going to leave me here all alone forever. “Can she come with us?” Dean grabbed onto my hand as tears welled up in my eyes, bracing for the harsh answer we both knew was bound to be said. “She has parents. I can’t. We have to go.” Dean and Sam’s father hung his head as he grabbed up their bags, tugging the protesting boys out of the room. Dean looked at me one last time, tears falling down his face as he was pushed out of sight. “(Y/n), if you ever need us. Give us a call.” The man scribbled out a number on an old, crinkly receipt before slamming the door shut behind him. I listened to the three pairs of footsteps stomping down the halls. I listened until I couldn’t hear them anymore. Soon, I heard a roar of a car. I ran out of bed to look at them go. I saw the old car back away and speed off into the distance. I watched it until I couldn’t make out their car anymore. My heart breaking with every second that passed. If I didn’t know what true sadness felt like, I did then.

I crawled into the bed that Dean and Sam were sleeping in. The bed was still warm from their bodies. Pulling the blanket up over my head, suffocating myself in their scent. I sobbed, holding onto Dean’s pillow taking in his scent. The time we spent together would forever be with me.

------

“We met again in high school.”

-----

“Dean Winchester?” The teacher scanned the room, looking for said Dean. “Right here, toots!” I rolled my eyes at the cocky comment, turning my head to catch sight of this guy. Our eyes immediately connected as we both cocked an eyebrow at each other. He looked oddly familiar. “(Y/n) (Y/l/n)?” I heard the teacher call my name as Dean’s jaw dropped. At that moment, it was confirmed. Cocky Dean was, in fact, my Dean. The young boy who I thought about almost constantly even years later. The Dean I thought I would never see again. I smiled at him, clearing the sob that was forming in my throat “Here, toots!” I called out to the teacher, Dean and I both laughing aloud at my response. I immediately grabbed my stuff to sit by him. “I thought I’d never see you again,” Dean smiled at me. I bit my lip, sighing “Same.” I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him and neither could he keep his off of me. I guess he must have missed me almost as much as I missed him.

After class, we decided to skip the rest of the day together to catch up with one another. As we walked to Dean’s car, the memories rushed back to me “The impala? You have that old impala?” “Hey now! Baby is not old. Don’t listen to her.” Dean scoffed, rubbing the hood of the car gently. “I watched you guys drive away that night you left and this is the car,” I frowned at the thought of that day. “I know. I stared back at you the whole time,” Dean sighed, biting his lip. My lip began to quiver as I pulled Dean into a tight hug, he didn’t hesitate to hold me close. I took a deep breath to breathe him in. I buried my face into his worn-in leather jacket, sighing in bliss “I missed you, Dean.” “I missed you too, (Y/n).”

We picked up where we left off, but something was different. Something wasn’t as innocent between us as it was when we were kids. We both knew something was different. “Dean, I really like you. Like I want us to be more than friends,” I bit my lip as I stared into his eyes. Dean was obviously at a loss for words, but decided to respond in nonverbal way, a better way. Dean pulled me into a gentle kiss, our lips were just pressed against each others. My eyes closed shut as I let myself melt into this beautiful kiss. After a little bit, Dean slowly pulled away from the kiss “I just don’t want things to mess up between us. You’re a good friend,” Dean kissed my forehead as I nodded. My heart sank to my stomach like a heavy anchor, but I refused to show that. I refused to show Dean just how vulnerable he had me. How open I was to him. How desperate I was for him to stay with me forever. “Yeah, no. You’re totally right. We’re great as friends,” I quickly got out of the car, slamming the door shut with tears falling down my face. Not knowing that would be the end of this era, I didn’t bother to turn back to look at him. I thought I’d see him again the next day, but he never showed up again at school. His motel room was vacant. Baby was never seen again in this small closed off town. “Again, Dean. Again?” I yelled as I pounded my fists against his old motel room’s door. I didn’t stop until the manager said something. My heart was broken all over again. He was just in my grasp last night! He couldn’t have called to say goodbye?

---------

“I was angry. I was lost. I was hurt beyond words when he left again for a second time, but this time without a word about it. My wonder for the Winchester was soon over, when we met again as adults.”

-------

Lonely and on my third failed date of the week, I found myself at the bar a little too long. Lingering for another round of alcohol to fill the void in my heart. Shot after shot after shot, I downed every one of those and asked for more each time. I knew it was becoming too much, but feeling my true emotions wasn’t an option for me. Not right now at least. “Another, please,” I hiccupped, pushing my glass over to the sympathetic bartender who witnessed all three of said failed dates. “No, I think she’s had quite enough,” I rolled my eyes at the stranger’s comment. “What’s your issue?” I turned over to the stranger. He was tall with beautiful long brown hair. “You’ve had enough, (Y/n). Come with me,” the handsome stranger held his hand out for me. I stared at his outstretched hand “Who are you?” “Sam. Dean’s little brother,” I felt myself quickly sober up as I looked Sam up and down in amazement “Oh my gosh, Sammy!” I squealed, jumping up to hug him. He chuckled, hugging me back. “You got so tall! I missed you.” “I missed you too.”

Sam took me back to his place where I was able to meet his fiancee, Jessica. We all got along great to the point where Jess asked me to be one of her bridesmaids, which I gladly accepted. Every week leading up to the wedding, we all would go out for a nice dinner together. It was Sam’s way of keeping an eye on me and keeping me out of any and all bars. I was nothing, but happy for the soon to be married couple. The only thing that seemed to dim the moment for me was knowing Dean was most likely going to be at the wedding as well and I was not ready to face him.

After months of preparation, the wedding day finally arrived. Faster than what I had expected as I had forgotten to turn my alarm on the night before. I was speeding through my hotel room as I quickly got myself together. Running out of the hotel room, I ran faster than I ever did to catch that elevator “Hey, can you hold that open?” I yelled across the hall to the person inside of the elevator as I ran. A hand waved in front of the doors, preventing it from shutting. Out of breath, I made it in the elevator “Thank you so much! I’m so going to be late to this wedding. The bride’s going to murder me” I laughed out, putting on my shoes. “Same.” My smile dropped as the voice echoed in my ears. I turned to face no one other than Dean himself. I cleared my throat and continued to get myself looking semi decent. “Come on, you can’t just ignore me. I left years ago! Decades ago. Sam was still a child.” “You left the night I told you how I felt about you without a word about it. Don’t you realize how much that hurt me?” I yelled at Dean as tears fell down my face. Dean went to wipe my tears away, but I pushed him away. “(Y/n), please. It was complicated. I was stupid. I couldn’t handle that!” “You kissed me! How could you say you wanted to only be friends after YOU kissed ME?” I balled up my fists and punched him in the arm “You hurt me! You ruined me!” “How, (Y/n)? How? You haven’t gotten over me? You’re telling me you never got over that?” “I haven’t.” I admitted, staring at the metallic doors with tears messing up the little eye makeup I managed to slip on. I wiped the black streaks off of my face only making a bigger mess. Dean took out his white handkerchief, licking it, and wiping away the mess on my face “You don’t need this crap on your face anyway. You look beautiful as ever.” I couldn’t help but smile at him like an idiot. Dean’s cheeks went a bright red as he pulled me close to him, lifting my chin up with a hooked finger, and softly kissing me. I hesitated at first but quickly gave in. Just like I’d give into him any other time. All for him. Only for him. The elevator doors opened up, but neither of us pulled away from the kiss. This kiss was the seal of fate. This kiss was the start of our forever.

--------

“I moved out of my crappy apartment into a house with him. We were making a mess out of this new life together, spending more money than we had and skipping out on bills to go out for drinks, but we were happy. Happier than ever. We ended up getting engaged during Sam and Jessica’s wedding weekend, but it was privately done in a hotel room after our first time together. Out of respect, I didn’t put on the cheap metal until a month later. Sam and Jessica were amused when we told them. All in a matter of six months, we were moved in together, engaged, and expecting our first child together. Everyone was happy.’

---------

Was..happy. 

Was happy until Dean didn’t come home one night. Until Sam told us just what their father John was doing in those months he was away from them. The monsters that lurked our world. The monsters that walked by us. Dean had gone on a quick job, but just never returned. Sam had Jessica and I stay with each other, so he could search for his brother. Months went by and nothing. Dean was gone and so was Sam. Jessica and I resorted to sleeping in the same room together to keep one another company and to dry each other’s eyes as we missed the boys and worried ourselves sick.

Then it happened, Sam came home with Dean. Sam’s eyes swollen and red as he carried Dean in his arms. My Dean dead in Sam’s arms. We gave him the proper hunter’s burial. I couldn’t breathe through my sobs, so Jess ended up taking me back home to comfort me away from the scene. My life was ruined. I can’t do this without him. 

That night was the night I felt our baby move for the first time. That night was the night I found the strength to push through. This baby was Dean’s and I owed it to him to raise our baby up the way he would have wanted.

Strong, loved, and AWAY from the family business.

--------

“Dad wasn’t found, but I pushed those memories out of my head. I had a baby on the way, a handsome baby on the way. I had to be strong for you.” I smiled at my smiling baby boy. He resembled his father so much. From his looks to his love for cars and chicks. “Do you think dad’s ever going to come home?” I inhaled sharply as tears pricked at my eyes “Yes, your dad always finds his way back home.”

[estdevium]

              [    ⤜    meta topics    !!    *:･ﾟ✧     ]

they deleted​​​    ╱     meta: childhood

the main issue with answering this ask is that to get into my thoughts on dean’s childhood revolves around a lot of topics people don’t want to see on their feeds. because the fact of the matter is, genuinely, dean did not have a childhood   &   what he experienced during his formative years absolutely left traumas you see in his character throughout the course of the show   (   some which seem to get better with some help   &   some of which never go addressed, even more so some of which are still leaving unmitigated severe repercussions on who he is as a person   ).   now some of this is direct canon   &   others is based on conjecture from things dean has alluded to in canon, so I will explain to the best of my abilities; I could talk on this topic for ages   &   never actually reach a point where I feel as if I properly explained it all please bear with me   (   pretty sure this was just supposed to be a throwaway topic I’m sorry for the fact it turned into a monster answer lmao   ).

trigger warnings   for talk about death / trauma, child abuse, prostitution,   &   self harm   (   starvation, etc   ).   also warnings for mentions of weapons   (   guns   ),   fire, alcohol, ableism   &   a multitude of illegal activities   (   stealing, fraud, etc   ).   please do not read this if you are not going to take note of the warnings I tried to make sure I got even the little things.

for starters anyone who knows the basics of the show knows this much: dean, his father   (   john   )   &   his younger brother   (   sam   )   became hunters due to the death of his mother   (   mary   )   when dean was four years old   (   sam, at the time, was four months   ).   this is not only the driving force behind the “why” of the series but is also a pivotal moment in what was to become dean's life. 

dean saw his mother burning alive in his brother’s room. he saw it. this isn’t a debate   &   he was four years old as his home burned   &   his father goes off the rails   &   he’s holding his younger brother   &   now home is the back of his father’s car as they travel from motel to motel   &   john is finding out about all the monsters out there   &   he's learning to be a hunter   (   putting his training from the marines as a vietnam war vet to use   )   while chasing down the thing that killed his wife. this means leaving his sons alone in motel rooms across the country   (   because most other hunters are also not fully right   &   john doesn't trust people   ).   dean, a child himself, is now no longer such. he is now a mother   &   a father to his younger brother   (   learning to cook   &   clean   &   change diapers   &   keep a child entertained   )   while also being a tool for his father   (   intense training from the moment john learned about monsters to also be a hunter, to protect his brother always first   &   foremost. “daddy’s little soldier”   ).   it is impossible to talk about his childhood without acknowledging these two things, specifically,   &   where they originate: sam will always come first   &   to john, dean was a means to an end before he was a son.

          mary    —

as stated above it's kind of incredibly important to take into consideration the effect mary's death had on dean as a whole. for starters we know that dean, when experiencing severe trauma, falls back on selective mutism   (   as a recurring theme   )   &   that he is often   (   forced   )   to push past it for those around him   (   john would not tolerate such behavior   &   sam needed dean to “function” in order to survive   ).   the phrase “broken” comes up a lot in regards to dean, both in what he has done   &   what people need from him. we never experience a moment where people are tolerant of the ways dean closes in on himself   &   deals with traumas   (   often he is berated for coping methods whether they are good or bad, which leads to the real belief dean forces himself through not talking because his father made sure dean understood it was behavior he would not stand for   ).   this in   &   of itself is enough to push the understanding that mary's memory is also a drive for dean, but in a different sense then it was for john. we know that dean had told himself numerous times “she would be proud of me” or “I am making her proud” / etc in order to work through the horrible situations he was put in growing up   (   which has its own horrifying conclusion that is irrelevant to this meta so I digress   )   —   she was often the memory that got him through. john was a furious force of nature working under the drive of “avenge mary” “find her killer”   &   so on enough to not only neglect his sons but also ban the topic of her from their “home”   (   if you can call the backseat of the impala   &   motel rooms “home”   ).   dean was not allowed to speak of her around their father, but sam’s memories of his mother all come from what his brother told him   &   we know dean fought with himself constantly to “properly” remember her   (   but god, bit by bit he lost her   )   in the process. which of course leads into the second part of this all   —

          john   —

the easiest way to depict the vast difference in john as a father   &   john as the man dean grew up following is the fact it's not “dad” to john’s face, it’s “sir”   —   many people have talked at length   (   both in canon   &   real people online   )   about dean's relationship with his father. the general consensus seems to be “john did his best” in a crappy situation because he loves his sons   &   that “dean knows that” with no one ever touching on “dean was a child who experienced severe trauma at a young age” which resulted in him latching onto the only parent he had left when that same person, at the same moment, stopped choosing to be a parent. instead of his father treating dean like the child he was, john needed someone to “step up   &   back him up”   &   dean was a   (   tragically   )   convenient presence to fulfill that need; both the fact sam needed watching   &   john needed a “second” he could trust. I am by no means saying john didn't love his sons   —   I fully believe he did   —   but that doesn't excuse the actions he took “raising” them   (   &   i say that lightly because john did barely any raising it was mostly conditioning, dean raised himself   &   his brother alone   ).   it is not a healthy or solid foundation for a relationship.

john was the equivalent of a drill sergeant dean's whole life who never thought dean met his standards   (   as shown from the multiple instances we see of john berating a young dean to be better be faster be smarter “you would have gotten your brother killed” “always listen to me”   ).   from the moment john became aware of all that goes bump in the night so, too, did dean. I cannot reiterate this enough: dean was a child   &   his father raised him as a soldier to fight monsters   &   never, never question his commands   —   I would argue it is a form of non purposeful brainwashing but that’s a larger argument for later. this training, though, isn't just physical weapons   (   dean has scarily accurate marksmanship   &   is incredibly proficient with a blade, ignoring skills in hand to hand combat   )   but also in illegal activities such as credit card fraud, hustling pool,   &   the like. dean is good at faking it because that's what was required of him   &   he has it ingrained to appear the way his father demanded.   &   that doesn't even touch on the other issues including   (   known   )   child abuse   (   punishment when dean didn't meet his fathers standards or messed up in the many ways a child will mess up, especially with all this   )   to round out deans   (   trauma based   )   idolization of his father. the same father who, once, left dean in a boys home with the phrase “I’m not coming for him, he can rot there”   (   what it's like to be a teenager whose father threw you away for following orders, caught stealing to feed his brother   ). 

while dean certainly understands the issues with his father   (   &   is shown, occasionally, to speak about them to himself   &   acknowledge john was a shitty parent who put him in a bad position all his life   )   that doesn’t change the mentality dean grew up with due to his father’s treatment, which circles back to the third point   —

          sam   —

sam will, no matter what, always be dean’s first priority. the lengths dean has gone to to always put sam before anything else are massive   &   hard to place into the word limit. this is in part based on the responsibilities john placed on dean his whole life   —   it is always “take care of sam”   (   never has it ever been expected that dean is to take care of himself, because in this he is unimportant   ).   the way deans young mind latched onto that, then the ways john punished him when he did not follow that, made sure even into his old age dean kept true to the statement “take care of sam”   (   because sam is, again, what is important   ). 

now dean was a child taking care of and raising a child   (   beyond himself   ).   there are things a child needs: food, shelter, clothing, etc. these things require money, which is not something a child has abundant amounts of to throw around   &   fulfill these needs. john used to leave them in motel rooms with not enough money to last because he would be gone longer than expected   (   just one example of how resourceful dean can be from how far he learned to stretch that money   ).   we know from this that dean has   (   often   )   chosen to starve himself so that sam has something to eat, unable to afford food for them both past what john left for them. we also know when the money would run out he would find other ways in which to get more   (   for things like the motel room, school, ect   )   by   (   as alluded to   )   prostituting himself, lying about his age to get into bars   (   to hustle pool mostly though we also know he can play a number of card games   ),   &   just generally stealing. it was stealing food, specifically, that has gotten him caught in the past   (   &   reprimanded by john when john found out   );   all of which is on top of, should john come home early while dean was out finding food or money, he would be reprimanded for leaving sam alone. every failure in raising sam was punishable. 

but dean also worked to make sure sam had options. he made sure sam spent as many years growing up “normal” as possible   (   hiding the monsters   &   the hunting until sam learned the truth from poking around   ),   going on field trips   &   making friends   (   going to school with the right supplies, doing his homework, etc   ).   all of these are things dean, himself, is not allowed to have   &   never seeks out for himself   (   as he sees it as “selfish” since it would take away from sam   ).   starting to get the picture   ?   it is in part why sam leaving for college both hit as hard as it did   (   “sam no longer needs me the same way I need him” since sam is, often, the driving force behind dean’s push to keep going   )   &   proud   (   “sam will have opportunities”   &   that's what dean has always wanted for him, as essentially sam real parental figure   ).   only now sam is gone   &   john doesn’t need dean anymore, now does he   ?

while not entirely related here we know this mentality is also why dean was willing to sell his soul in exchange for sam's life.

          other   —

something about the fact dean was never put first by either of them both, lived with the expectation he did things because they are used to him doing those things   (   john expected them   &   sam never knew better, dean was good at hiding who he was / is   ),   is important to note. we know his childhood has left him with rather severe self worth issues. he does not think himself intelligent   (   even though we know he is which I will not get into here, but between his father   &   co. calling him a grunt   &   the teachers in school writing him off + dean dropping out once he could to work to keep sam fed / housed / ect while helping their father did not help fix that perception   ).   he does not think himself worth peoples time   (   everyone is always leaving him behind, so he is clearly only worth what he can offer them in return   ).   he is also suicidal   (   building off previous points   )   &   will purposefully punish himself for perceived wrongs   (   we often see him pick a fight, drink, starve himself, refuse sleep, amongst other more bloody options   ). 

dean had an absent   (   often drunk   )   abusive father, a younger brother who thinks he knows best   (   &,   while I think this is not intentional on sam’s part, he takes a lot of advantage of dean because of this   ),   no real friends   (   he grew up alone without any help outside an occasional visit to bobby's scrap yard or pastor jim’s church; john chased away most people in the hunting community   )   because he stopped trying to at school. we know he started sleeping around   &   drinking before he was of age   (   the sex seemingly a coping mechanism over the fact dean is both touch starved   &   has never really experienced someone loving / caring for him but that’s a meta for another day. the alcohol because it was what everyone around him was doing ie: other hunters   ). 

here I could talk about how dean doesn’t have people who stay, in his experience. I could talk about how all of this has led to his sense of responsibility   &   lack of understanding of “love” as a concept. I could go into his codependency on sam   (   that is NOT reciprocated in the same sense, because sam will always be dean's kid while dean will always be sam’s caregiver. their relationship is not on even footing but again something for later   ).   I think what is most important to talk about, in conclusion, is that with everything dean has experienced he learned at a really young age the importance of a lie. because a lie is what keeps cps from taking sam away   (   &   dean, too, but again he doesn't see himself as anything worth noting   ),   lying is what kept food in sams belly   &   a roof over sams head   &   people off their backs. dean is a disarming smile on a pretty face that he learned to weaponize as a means of survival. none of his childhood is anything he sees as worth noting so, most of the time, everyone around him doesn’t know   (   it is not like john treated him as enough to seemingly even understand the weight he placed on dean's shoulders   )   because he learned the best ways to hide it. a bruise is dropping a book on his face, a broken arm is tripping down the stairs, his father missing is “for work”   (   even if it's the bar down the street   ).   he is proficient at forging signatures not to make fake ids but to sign report cards. he is light on his feet   &   has fast reflexes because stealing a loaf of bread is just as important as dodging the swipe of a werewolf. it's a terrible childhood, really   (   no wonder he suppresses it   ).

[blissfullylostinarabbithole]

Outsider Pt. 17

Pairing: Step Dad!Tony Stark x Teen!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: An opportunity arises for Reader, and the Team finally catch a solid lead.

Warnings: A death threat.

A/N: I’m just gonna drop this here and pretend it hasn’t been almost a year since the last update.

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Every tip that came in, they checked. No matter where it came from, or how unlikely it was that it was actually you, they personally checked it out. They’d gone through all your things, your favorite movies, books, etc., taking note of where they took place in a far fetched hope that you’d been taken to one of those locations. Each time, they came back empty handed.

Sam was in no fit state to aid in the search, so his contribution was limited to research from within the tower and taking phone calls. And of course, watching Dean.

It’d taken three days from when he came to be lucid enough to understand what had happened, and he was pissed. Pissed at Sam for not following orders, at Bucky for not saying anything beforehand, but mostly at himself for leaving you when you needed him most.

He couldn’t sleep, and the pills the doctor gave him were no help. He’d tried to sneak a bit of whiskey from Tony’s stores, but as everyone knew he was on a strict no alcohol order from the doctor, FRIDAY would alert someone before he got too close. After cursing the ‘nosy robot lady’ for what seemed like the hundredth time, he eventually gave up, accepting his suffering as punishment for letting you down.

He wasn’t the only one.

Bucky only returned to the tower every few days, and only because Steve wouldn’t stop lecturing him if he didn’t. Steve would go on and on about how you needed him to be alright, then Bucky would snap and tell him what you really needed was to be found. He’d argue there’d be plenty of time to rest once you were safe, but Steve was persistent, and it would annoy him to no end.

Your mom would return when she felt like she was about to collapse from exhaustion, as would Tony. Only he’d get stupid drunk before passing out. Even so, he was the first one out, bright and early, checking out the next lead.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cletus didn’t return before you tired and went to bed, and when you woke, your usual breakfast was on the table with no other sign of him. Your first instinct was to toss it, as you usually did when he wasn’t there, but your strength was dwindling, and you were going to need all the help you could get if you were going to try to escape. 

You decided to eat a spoonful and wait, seeing if you felt strange before eating any more. While you waited, you checked on your wound, using the water he’d left for you to drink to try to clean it. 

It was leaking, and the pain from just removing the bandage was almost unbearable. The water did little to soothe the burning, or abate the smell. You knew it was useless to ask to see a doctor, but maybe you could get him to find you a first aid kit. Some antibiotics would be ideal, but you couldn’t trust anything he gave you. Maybe if you played nice, he’d even get you a puzzle or a book or something to entertain you. You also wanted a shower and some fresh clothes, but you knew that was pressing your luck.

Since you hadn’t felt any worse from the food, you forced the rest down, leaving the empty bowl and spoon on the table where he’d left it. When you heard the door begin to unlock, you turned toward it and smiled, but it quickly fell when you saw the mood he was in.

He was muttering to himself, scowling at whatever was going on in his head. As he approached, he checked the bowl, making sure you’d eaten, before tossing it into the bucket. He reached into his pockets, pulling out at small assortment of snacks and tossed them on the bed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, chancing a look at him. He paused, meeting your eyes only for a moment before turning to walk back out the door. You heard him lock it, and you weren’t sure if you were more pleased or disappointed he didn’t stay. Your gaze landed on the vase, and you figured as long as he didn’t remove it, you still had hope. In the meantime, you would do what you could to be ready when the time came. Right now, that meant nourishment.

It was the first time he’d brought you anything prepackaged, and you were grateful for it when you checked them and saw they still had airtight seals.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

He didn’t stay with you over the next few days, only showing up with either oatmeal or snacks and water a few times a day. Each time he was more agitated than the last. Sometimes you said hello, but he rarely replied. Once you asked him what was wrong, and he’d screamed that everything was going to shit. 

You didn’t dare hope he’d meant you were close to being found. But, seeing as how your meals now consisted of what you guessed were shoplifted snacks and a seemingly never ending supply of oats, it was hard not to.

“Cletus?” you prompted once when he wasn’t as angry. “Why don’t you eat with me anymore?”

“I’m busy.”

You unwrapped a candy bar, making sure he saw you eat it. “Busy with what?”

He eyed you suspiciously, but his heart fluttered at the soft, expectant look you gave him. “A fence.”

“Oh.” So that’s why he was stealing; he was out of money. “Are they hard to find?”

“No,” he growled, balling his hands into fists as they began to shake, “but none of them will deal with me now your father has THE ENTIRE COUNTRY AFTER US!!!”

You shrank away as he stood there, shouting and banging his fists against the wall. Remembering the vase, you scooted toward the edge of the bed, but realized he was too far for you to surprise him. As you made your way toward him, you realized you were also too slow.

“Stop, please, you’re hurting yourself.” He breathed heavily, still angry, but letting you inspect his hands. “I have an idea. Why don’t I write him a letter?” He glared at you, and you knew you were on thin ice. “Just something short, telling him to leave us alone. Maybe then he’ll realize it’s what we want.”

“No tricks?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Because I’ll gut you if you do.”

“No tricks,” you promised, swallowing the lump in your throat. “And can you maybe see if you get us first aid supplies? So I can clean your hands?” 

You rubbed your thumbs just under his bleeding knuckles, hoping to keep him from thinking too hard. He nodded, and walked out, locking the door. When his footsteps faded, you released the breath you were holding and began to think of something to write. If you hesitated, he’d know something was up, and you wanted to keep your insides on the inside.

He returned hours later with some paper, more wet wipes, and a box of bandaids. You tried to stay positive as you cleaned his hands and placed bandaids on his wounds, remembering you still had a letter to write. Still, your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, knowing you could die if he caught onto you. 

He sat beside you, watching as you prepared to write. He tried to tell you what to say, but you argued that it had to be in your own words, or they’d never believe you meant it. You wrote quickly, and as promised, it was short. You underlined the word ‘Nothing’, smiling at him in an attempt to curb any doubts he had.

When you finished, you handed it to him and began to label the envelope as he looked it over. Your heart nearly stopped when he looked up at you with an unreadable expression.

“Do you mean it?”

Releasing a shaky breath, you reached up to caress his cheek. “Every word.”

You were met with his creepy grin, and held your breath as he leaned in. It took everything not to hurl as his lips moved against yours, and when it felt like an appropriate amount of time passed, you pulled away, taking the letter from his hands.

“We should get this sent,” you said. “The sooner they stop the search, the better.” You folded the letter, sealing it into the envelope as quickly as you could and handed it to him. With the same grin on his face, he walked out, locking the door.

You just hoped he would actually send it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“TONY!” Happy called, running out of the elevator, a letter clutched in his hand. He reached your mother first, and handed it to her. “Is that her writing?”

Your mom saw the return address, which only had your name, and a sob escaped her. “Yes!” She tore it open and began to read it, frowning at your words. “It’s her writing, but it doesn’t read like her.”

Tony,

Since you seem to need it spelled out for you, we don’t want to be found. This is the first time in a long time I’ve felt happy, and you’re ruining everything. Leave us alone. Let us be happy. I’m fine and looking forward to my future with him. No one understands me the way he does, and Nothing will keep us apart. 

Yours no longer,

Y/N

Both Happy and Tony read over her shoulder. “Maybe he told her what to write,” the former supplied.

“No,” Tony said, smiling for the first time in weeks. “FRIDAY, call everyone back to the tower, those that are here, into the conference room.”

Sam and Dean were already there when they arrived, and Steve, Vision, and Clint trickled in right after. Everyone else was either still searching the city, or following up on a tip.

“This just came in today.” He gestured to the large projection of the letter. Before he could explain any more, Sam grabbed a notepad and pen from the table and began to write. “You see it.”

“Yeah. How did she get it past him?”

“I don’t understand,” your mom stared at the projection, willing whatever it was to just jump out at her. “What am I missing?”

Tony pointed at the word ‘Nothing’, underlined for emphasis. “Here. Why capitalize and underline it? Why not capitalize the whole word? Surely one or the other would get the point across, wouldn’t it?”

“Except for hers and Tony’s name, the capital letters spell something out. FRIDAY.” The A.I. projected Sam’s notes alongside your letter, making the room go quiet. 

‘STILL IN NY’

Permanent -  @melconnor2007 @ria132love @psychicwitchphilosopher @sireennotsiren @silence–in–the–library@thefridgeismybestie@hymnofthevalkyrie@abbybills22@mvasquez492@ek823@nicky10876@sophiealiice @madeof-ink@dugan365 @magnitude101999 @way-ward-whale @i-am-the-fandom-warrior @seabasstiantrash @eden-the-human-garden

Marvel/Avengers -@majd943@coolblueintrovert@danijimenezv@prancingdestiel@galacticalstarcat@beautifulbows924@lionheo04@dyanlzbb@pennywisethedancingclown13  @ludwigvonbaethoven @alilianamendez@cravingmustard  @thisismysecrethappyplace  @just4muggles

Outsider -  @whovianayesha @alicethecactus @writings-of-a-girl @problematicpastry @tienna-laufeyson16@sexysamsungl @purplekitten30 @xotaku-baekx @lexie-mo @buckybear97 @cookies186 @let-me-try-mom @captainmoon46 @snapdragonqueen @mjlo0305 @thatcrazybookwormgeek @nerdy-sherlock-fan-191 @stubbornwhale @hellomydearfriends @rainbow-anon @look-to-the-stars-and-wish @amnahs9695 @bucky-blogs

If I missed you in the tags, let me know!

[writtingsofspn]

Aladdin AU

Summary: Aladdin AU!

Pairing: Sam x reader

A/N: Finally continuing with my Disney princess AU list! Please please please let me know what you think and if you’re as excited as I am for the rest of this story!

You’d always loved spying on these meeting between your father and his advisers, finding the perfect hiding spot just outside the door when you were only 7. It made you feel important, informed of all matters, prepared in case you ever need be. Not that you ever would.

Years ago the matters seemed much less daunting, a thief stealing cattle from farms in the south, neighbors quibbles blown out of proportion, things such as this. Now, however, each meeting concerned the same thing as the last: money, or rather a lack there of. Citizens starving, the homeless population growing larger, family businesses disappearing, all caused by the treasury being all but empty.

This was what today's meeting concerned of course, and as always Amal, your fathers most trusted adviser, had an answer.

You listened as most of the men trickled out of the room, discussing amongst themselves what is to be done for the kingdom, while Amal stayed behind preparing to propose something he would not dare discuss in front of the other advisers.

“You know my king” He began, the mere sound of his voice making you want to roll your eyes “there’s always the solution I brought up last meeting”

You father sighed loudly “I told you once and I’ll tell you again I will not hear any more of that suggestion”

“But your majesty-“

“I will not be betting this kingdom on old wives’ tales”

“It is not as though you have another option sire”

Another sigh came from him, you could all but see him put his head in his hands, the stress of the kingdom’s situation weighing heavily upon him.

“Legend tells of riches far beyond any mans imagination” Amal continues cautiously “Certainly enough to save the kingdom for decades to come”

“Where can we find such riches” You could hear the defeat in your father’s voice, making your stomach drop.

“Many speak of a tomb buried deep beneath the kingdom, accessible only through caves on the northern shore”

“Then send a team to these caves, have them look for this tomb”

“I’m afraid it is not that easy your majesty” Amal chuckled “legend says only one man has any hope of finding this tomb, the son of the man who built it”

“So the fate of my kingdom rests in the hands of the son of a man who built a magic tomb that only reveals itself to him” A laugh and a pause as your father reveled in the hopelessness of this situation “So be it then. Amal, I trust you and only you to find this man. Do whatever necessary”

“As you wish your majesty” You could hear the giddiness in Amal’s voice as he said this which just made you sick. “In the meantime what are we to do with the people”

“Distract them I suppose” Your father sighed “Just until we can secure the money”

“A royal wedding perhaps”

You felt your heart drop. Surely they weren’t speaking of your own wedding. You were but a child, you knew no men to whom you could marry. Certainly you couldn’t get married to a man you didn’t know so soon.

“Y/N won’t be happy…but I suppose sacrifices must be made.”

And with those words your fate was sealed.

-

Dean awoke to a loaf of bread hitting his face. Groaning as he pushed himself to a sitting position on the hard ground.

“Where’d you find this one?” He asked as he tore off a piece and shoved it into his mouth.

“The baker is very easily distracted when beautiful women are nearby” Sam chuckled.

“So you dressed up as one?” Dean teased causing Sam to roll his eyes. “Did you already eat a loaf yourself?”

“Yes” Sam lied, the memory of the smiles of the poor kinds elicited from the loaf of bread given to them that Sam had stole for himself bringing a smile of his own to his face.

Dean nodded, seeing right through his brother as he tore his own loaf in half and threw it at Sam before he could protest.

Sam only nodded in response, catching the loaf easily and startded chewing on a piece of it happily. “So what’s on the schedule for today?”

“I’ve got some leads on work” Dean answered groggily “Check those out then I guess find some place to sleep for tonight”

Sam nodded, taking another bite of his loaf “Dean…we’re not going to be able to keep this up for that long”

“We won’t need to Sam” Dean answered looking off into the distance “We’ll find work, good, steady work and one day get off the streets, be able to actually buy our food…not have to pose as women to get it”

His attempt to lighten the mood having the desired effect as a small smile pulled at the corners of Sam’s lips. “You think so?”

“I know so”

-

“They tied me to a tree since they were in such a hurry but felt bad for me, in spite of me being a prisoner of war, and thus left me a sword and a promise to come back. When they did they found me still alive but surrounded by bodies sliced to death by my own hand”

His story had an air of being well rehearsed, the passion with which he told it much similar to that of a man over compensating for something.

“Wow” You said with as little emotion as possible; the prince, however, took no notice.

“You know there are many beautiful women in my home country” He said changing the subject as if it were a natural progression.

“mhm”

“I could have any of them if I choose” He continued undeterred “But the pull of a women with the title of princess is something else’

You paused for a second, honestly unsure of whether or not you were expected to thank him for such a comment.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is” He didn’t even look at you as he said this, instead inspecting his nails as he lounged in his chair casually “I would be honored if you were to give me your hand in marriage”

“No” The answer came to you quickly and easily though that was hardly a surprise.

“What?” The prince’s gaze snapped to you and he immediately sat up straight. This was undoubtedly the first time you had his full attention this entire encounter.

“I said no” Now it was your turn to lounge in your chair and inspect your nail bed mockingly “You clearly don’t care about me, are incredibly rude, remarkably narcissistic, and quite frankly I’d rather jump off my balcony than marry you”

The prince stared at you in total shock, his mouth hanging open slightly. And you’d be lying if you were to say that brought you no pleasure.

“And on that note I bid you adieu” You stood and bowed mockingly, turning around to take your leave.

“Don’t you dare walk out on me” The bite in his voice caught you off guard, turning around to find him on his feet and very red-faced. “Never have I met a girl so selfish-so vile-so undeserving of my affection”

“Me? Selfish? Vile?” You laughed “Have you looked in the mirror? You waltz in here as if you own the place, as if you were entitled to my hand.”

“I’m a prince” He spat as he folded his arms over his chest “You’re a princess, you do the math” And with those charming words he stormed out of the room, no doubt to complain to your father before going back him in the twelve carriages employed to bring him here.

You made your way towards your room, pausing only when you heard your father’s assurances to the prince as he tried to salvage the situation, knowing you were in for it once he left making you sigh before slamming your door behind you.

Your father forced it back open not soon after, much quicker than you were expecting. “What was that Y/N”

“He was an ass” You shrugged.

“Language please” You father sighed, plopping himself onto your bed.

“He is!” You cried “He was incredibly rude and didn’t care about me at all”

“Y/N there aren’t that many princes in this world, you unfortunately don’t have that many options”

“I know” You sighed “but I do still have options. I know that finding someone I love may be out of my reach but I at least deserve someone I like, someone who cares about me”

“And after word gets out about how you treated that man how many of those princes do you expect will be willing to come see you”

You were shocked into silence, you honestly hadn’t considered that. “But he treated me poorly as well, why isn’t his character being dragged through the mud as well”

“You’re the woman, you’re always expected to be significantly better behaved, as unfair as that is it’s how the world works”

You sighed, putting your head in your hands “Why do I even have to get married, it’s not fair”

“I know but as a princess it’s your duty. You owe it to the kingdom”

“I feel…I feel like a prize” You groaned “Being auctioned off to the best bidder”

“That would imply that you have no choice” Your father shook his head, grabbing your hand comfortingly “and you do. These men are for your choosing, not the other way around”

You made no answer, not fully accepting this answer but not having the motivation to object.

“I just ask that you be civil to all those to come”

“Alright, I will be civil” You promised, offering him a small smile as he left the room, collapsing dramatically on your bed as soon as the door was shut.

You laid for a while, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling before walking out to your balcony and looking out over the city. You just needed to escape your life, just for a bit. To not be reminded of your upcoming wedding to god knows who for just a day. To be a normal girl.

And so you resolved to do something about it, to not just sit on your ass feeling sorry for yourself for a change. You walked to your closet, finding a dark coat with a large hood and throwing it on before slowly climbing your way down the balcony.

It’s about time you took your life into your own hands.

-

You kept one hand at the base of your hood, keeping it draw close to your head doing your best to hide your identity as you strolled the streets, feeling at peace for the first time in who knows how long. As you neared the center of town, however, things took a turn as the effects of the kingdoms poverty became more prevalent.

Young children sat on each street corner, grumbling stomachs heard from blocks away. You reached one particular street in which tables piled high with goods lined each side of it. You looked at the poor kids on the curb, their large eyes looking up at you pleading for help. Looking around you saw that the table next to you was piled high with food, surely this man could spare just one apple for hungry children.

Without second thought you plucked one from the table and handed it to one of the children, watching with a smile as he ran quickly down the street with his prize.

“What do you think you’re doing” A harsh voice broke your train of thought as you saw the man behind the table leaning over it yelling at you.

“I hope you plan on paying for that”

“Oh-I-uh” You hadn’t considered bringing any money with you, still not sure why this man was so angry over one measly apple.

“That’s what I thought” He shook his heads before yelling out “Guards guards, thief!” and pointing right at you. You didn’t have time to think before your hand was seized and you were being pulled down the street.

Part 2

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God- Chapter 5

***Sometimes staying away is the easiest move. Keeping a safe distance, especially for Emerson and Dean Winchester. So, when the Maklen twins come home again, they don’t anticipate the feelings that Emerson will get having to see him again. When tragedy strikes, the Winchester brothers and the Maklen twins are forced to face, not only their feelings, but each other. In a story about pain, family, abandonment, and desire, the couples have to decide if survival, without love, is enough.***

Warnings: Angst, violence, death, mutual pinning, age difference, language

Chapter Five

“You never realize how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have.” - Bob Marley

-9 Hours After-

The sound of boots on asphalt was all Emerson could hear. She felt Deans arms tighten around her, as her fingers loosened on his shirt. “Stay with me, Em!” Dean said down to her as he held her tighter.

There was something about the fight, the pressure that motivated Dean Winchester more than anything else in the world. Someone to save. The fight was even stronger after he joined the military. Suddenly there was a real life pressure to live and to fight, but holding Emerson in his arms, running, was different than that. Somehow it was bigger. He saw his street in front of him just as she went limp in his arms. “Sammy go get the door!” He shouted, tossing the keys to his brother. The younger Winchester caught them easily and pushed toward the door, Pheli on his heels.

Sam was able to easily open the door and get inside just as Dean stepped on to the porch. He shut the door behind him. “Get to the basement.” He instructed the couple.

Dean made it down the stairs to his bedroom and laid Emerson down on the bed carefully. He leaned his head down to listen to her breathing. It was shallow and labored. “Shit.” He whispered.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Ophelia asked from the door way.

“It’s uh…” This is my fault. He thought desperately. “Her breathing isn’t good. I think her oxygen level is low.”

“What are we going to do?” Sam asked desperately, his hand on Pheli’s back.

The blonde stood up a little straighter. “Dean we have all of Mom’s medical stuff at the house. We have a lot of oxygen tanks and IV’s. We hadn’t returned them yet. Do you think if I got it it’d help Em?”

Dean grinned widely. “You’re a genius Maklen.”

“I’m dating your brother, Dean. You don’t need to try to seduce me with compliments.” She flipped her hair, but he could see behind her dark eyes that she was terrified. “Sam and I will make a run. Stay with her. Protect her. Okay?”

“I promise.” He said with a nod.

Ophelia adjusted her face mask and left the room, Sam following her.

Dean lowered himself to sit on the bed next to Emerson. He looked at her. Her eyes were closed, but he knew they looked like chocolate, and in the sun the glowed golden. “You asked me why I told you that I was enlisting. I lied.” He said quietly, pushing her hair out of her face. He slowly removed her mask, to see blood trickling down her mouth.

His parents were paranoid, specifically his Dad. After John got back from the Marines he opted for the expensive air filter system for their home, and for an impenetrable basement level on their home that was stocked with canned food a backup generator in case of emergency. In case of exactly what was happening.

He took off his gloves, already feeling better now that he was in the air filtered house. He checked Emerson’s pulse, pressing two fingers to her throat. Weak, but it was there. “I wanted to tell you, because I wanted you to be proud of me. Didn’t really want to be the same old fuck up I’d always been. What I knew you thought I was. Don’t really know why I cared what the kid next door thought.” He laughed humorlessly. “Maybe that’s a lie, too.”

-5 Years Before-

Dean threw his duffle bag over his shoulder. He thought about leaving in the middle of the night. Maybe it’d be easier to just disappear into the darkness. He saw the way Emerson reacted to him leaving, surely Sam would feel the same way. If not worse. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t what he wanted, not really. Suddenly he had the urge for a cigarette.

He sat down the bag and dug the carton out of his pocket along with his lighter. He unlocked his window and slid out of it to have one last smoke before everything blew up. His window ledge wasn’t like Emerson’s. It wasn’t flat or easy to sit on, but it did hang fairly close to her window. A tree was the only thing separating the two roofs.

He leaned against the wall, putting the cigarette in between his lips. Two flicks from his zippo and he sucked the smoke into his mouth. He closed his eyes and thought about the weight of the dog tags around his father’s neck. He thought about Sam begging him to take Emerson to homecoming. He thought about how his little town would be so much better without him.

“You disgust me, boy.” His father said, his fist connecting with his chin.

Pain shot through Dean’s face as he stumbled back, grabbing for anything to stop himself from falling. He failed. He looked up at his father towering over him. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Bet you are. Only sorry that you got caught.”

There were many different kinds of monsters in the world. At that point, Dean just preferred the ones that he knew would be shooting at him. He didn’t like surprises, and the first time his father hit him was a fucking surprise.

After the first time it was a dodging act over and over again. What would set John off, and how could Dean keep himself as the focus. John never went after Sam or their Mom. After a while Dean wondered if it would be better if he disappeared.

“You don’t steal from me, boy.” His steel toe boot connected with Dean’s temple. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are.” John hissed, looking down at his oldest son.

Dean looked at him through the blood that trailed into his eye. “I don’t know what kind of question that is.” He said, deciding to be brave. To be something he wouldn’t be ashamed of in the morning. “Who are you? Someone who kicks the shit out of their own kid?” Dean couldn’t help the tears stinging his eyes.

“You’re no kid of mine.” John spit down at him, and Dean could smell the alcohol in the saliva dripping down his cheek.

There was money missing from John’s wallet and he blamed Dean, of course he did. There was no one else to blame, and even though Dean didn’t steal the money, he would take the beating. He wouldn’t let anyone else get the blunt force of John’s boot.

He opened his eyes as he heard a creak across from him. Emerson climbed out of her own window and settled on the roof, just like he was. He smiled at her in the darkness, letting out a breath of smoke.

She was bathed in darkness, but part of her face was illuminated from the moon. She wore a pair of pajama pants and a tank top, her hair was braided to the side. Dean wondered what she was doing out there. She hadn’t noticed him, and he considered the possibility that he could still disappear without saying goodbye. He considered it, but he knew he didn’t have the strength. He sucked in another breath of smoke.

“Fancy meeting you here.” He said with an exhale.

“Jesus Christ Winchester! You scared the shit out of me!” He could see the whites of her eyes in the darkness.

He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head. “God you’re so fucking easy.”

“Screw you.”

“Aw, if you insist.”

She narrowed her eyes at him from across the empty space between them. “Why are you lurking up on the roof?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” He shrugged.

“I just... I needed some air.” She admitted, leaning her head against the back wall again.

“Me too.” He held up his cigarette.

“Still a nasty habit.” She said, eyeing him.

“I know.” He took one last puff before extinguishing it. “Want some company?”

Emerson pulled her knees to her chest. “No.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

She rolled her eyes and scooted over, signaling for him to join her. He nodded and stood up, grabbing ahold of a branch so he could hop to her roof. “I hate when you do that.” She complained.

“Whatever.” He laughed, sitting next to her.

They sat in silence for several minutes, just looking at the moon. “You leave tomorrow.”

“Tonight, actually.”

“What?”

“Tryin to disappear in the night before anyone can miss me.” He wiggled his eyebrows to show it was a joke, even though Emerson knew better.

“Dean you need to say goodbye.”

“Don’t want to see Sammy cry.”

“I know.” She bumped him a bit.

“What about you? You gonna tell Phel you got accepted to that fancy university in Scotland?”

“How did you know about that?” She turned to him alarmed.

“Figured that’s why you were up here.”

She’d told him about it after she applied. Last time he’d come up on her roof. “I’m not going.”

“Why not? You should.”

“Phel needs me. I’d miss her.”

“She doesn’t need you, Em. You need you.” He poked her nose. “You gotta do whats good for you.”

“Rich coming from you.”

“Yeah, well I’m damaged goods, don’t take me as an example.”

“Mhm.” She turned away from him, staring out at the ocean in the darkness. “I want to go. I want to get out of this town and never fucking see it again.”

“What’s stopping you? I’m leaving.”

“You’re not a factor.” She said smoothly.

“Didn’t say I was. You projecting Maklen?”

“What? No.”

“Guess we’re both liars.” He chuckled to himself.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” She turned all the way so she was looking at him.

“You won’t tell Phel, and I still haven’t told Sammy I’m leaving. We both have some real fucked up ideas of what our siblings need. You realize that, right?”

“Maybe.”

“But we aren’t going to change, because we’re the same.” He turned away from her, propping his arms on his knees.

“You’re probably right about that.” She said, sadly.

Ever since Sam had gotten with her sister, Dean Winchester was going out of his way to be the most annoying human being to Emerson. Moments like that one made it worth it, though. He would surprise her, and swing up to her roof. In between puffs of smoke he would say things that’d make her heart flutter. He challenged her in the best and worst ways. She wouldn’t let herself feel anything, though, because she still believed in her heart that he would hurt her.

“Part of me thinks I’m gonna die out there.”

“I thought you were going to be a mechanic?”

“I am, but I don’t know. I’ve got a gut feeling.”

“Well can you do me a favor, and I don’t know, not die?” Emerson asked, almost looking annoyed.

“Aw, Em, your heart is showing.” He reached forward and poked her chest, right above her heart, before realizing that he was touching her boob. His face immediately flushed and he pulled his hand away.

“It is not.” She huffed, batting him away. “I don’t care okay?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” He mumbled before sighing. “Not surprised, though, other than Sammy I think I could just leave and no one would notice.”

“Dean quit with the pity party shit, okay?” She took his face in her hands. “I’m only going to say this once, okay? And don’t you ever fucking mention it again, or I swear I will shove you off this roof. Got it?”

“Uh, got it.” He said, his heart pounding. He could feel her breath on his lips because she was so close.

Emerson let out a quick breath. “I know what it feels like to be the one overlooked. I’m twins with Pheli for Christ sakes. That doesn’t mean you aren’t worth it, Dean. You want me to fucking say it, don’t you? I’d miss you. You’re so annoying, you have a shitty smoking habit, and you’re the biggest smart ass I know. But you fight for your brother, and you listen. I’m not here to be your cheerleader or your mom. It’s time that you start learning your own worth, Dean. No one can change your mind but you.” She said softly, her eyes flickered to his. “You see me, Dean, and I see you.”

-9 Hours After-

Pheli and Sam entered the basement with two duffle bags each of medical supplies, in addition to some items that Pheli thought the girls may need. They weren’t gone more than ten minutes. “How is she?”

“Stable.” Dean grunted, moving his hand off hers. “You got the oxygen?”

She nodded and pulled the can out of her bag along with a face mask. Dean rested the mask over her face and turned on the oxygen, holding it there. Pheli moved around to the other side of the bed. She held her sisters hand after removing her face mask.

“You take some, too, Phel.” Dean said, handing her another mask.

She nodded and pressed it to her lips, her eyes never leaving Emerson. “Come on, Em. This is not how our story ends.” She said quietly. Sam pressed his palm to Deans shoulder. All three sets of eyes were on Emerson. “We are supposed to die together, remember? Into the world together and out together. You’re not dying today, Em. I won’t allow it.”

“She’s going to be okay.” Dean said, he had to believe it.

“Dean can we talk?” Sam asked, eyeing his brother.

“What? Yeah, okay.” He stood up and followed Sam out to the basement living room.

“What’s going on out there, Dean?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his face.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Honestly? No. It was about getting here... and now that we’re here I don’t know. I guess we could wait it out. Wait for the inevitable government clean up.”

“Are you sure that’ll happen?”

“No. I’m not sure of anything.” He admitted. “All I know is that something  really fucking bad is going down, Sam. Our only options are to hide or fight.”

“Which are we gonna do?”

He turned his face to look at the door where the girls were. “Doesn’t feel like we have much of a choice.”

“Dean!” Pheli said calling from the bedroom.

He rushed past Sam back into the bedroom, expecting the worst. He pushed through the door and stopped in his tracks. She was propped up slightly with her eyes open. The oxygen mask was still over her face. She pulled it down to reveal a big, weak smile. “Somebody looks happy to see me.” She said breathlessly.

“Put that back on.” Pheli instructed, her voice sharp with annoyance.

Emerson rolled her eyes and placed the mask back, her eyes never leaving Deans.

They had no choice. It wasn’t just Dean and Sam anymore. The Maklen sister were theirs to protect, and Emerson was right. He was so fucking happy to see her. He planted his feet on the ground to resist the urge to go to her, because he knew he shouldn’t. He knew she would be better off. She had to be.

—————

Chapter Six

Get caught up!

[myheartrevealed]

“They Didn’t For Me”

Requested by @susan-is-in-the-house:  1. Love your blog 2. I have a fanfic request: so like dean catches a teenage stealing from a store helps her out, and finds out she is a hunter. Kind of like goes back to when dean lived at Sonny’s. 3. I know this is vague sorry

A/N: Done! Thank you for being patient!! I really hope you like it!

~ ~ ~

Your shoulders dropped as you approached the familiar, dirty building. A gas station market. Normally you hated these places, but right now, you were disappointed it was the only one in town.

You walked in, scanning the room. There was a young woman, paying for her children’s snacks and a middle-aged man standing down one of the back aisles. You panicked, ducking behind the nearest stand, when you realized the cashier was the same one that was there two days ago. Crap.

He hadn’t seemed to notice that you had walked in yet, so you figured, might as well keep going.

You slid down the aisle, your head ducked below the top shelf, so no one could see you. Along the way, you grabbed a pack of gum and a small candy bar. Then, you swiped a soda from the cooler in the back, and two bags of chips off the next shelf.

Kneeling, you stuffed the chips, candy, and soda into your backpack, then tucked the gum into your back pocket.

You attempted sneaking back out the way you came, but in your rush, you became careless. The man behind the counter could hear your footsteps and as soon as you came out from behind the display, you were caught.

“Aha!” he cried. You attempted to escape through the front door, but you weren’t fast enough. He grabbed your backpack, pulling you away from the door, and knocking you off your feet.

“Hey!” The other man in the mart came walking around the corner, while the cashier forcefully ripped your pack off of you.

“Not to worry, sir,” the man rushedly said. “This girl is a thief. We caught her trying to steal two days ago.”

“I didn’t steal-” you attempted to defend yourself, reaching for your bag, but he swung it out of your reach.

“Not so fast,” he argued. “Let’s see what you swiped from me this time, huh?”

You huffed in frustration as he tipped the contents of the bag onto the floor.

The stolen stuff came out first, proving you quite guilty, but after it fluttered some other things you kept in your bag. Newspaper clippings, notes, business cards. The cashier didn’t seem to care for them, reaching for the food, but the other man’s eyes lit up with curiosity.

“See!” he exclaimed, waving the food around. “I knew you were taking stuff.”

You shrugged. “Alright, you caught me,” you complied. “Now can I go-”

You reached for the backpack again and was let down for a second time.

“No way. You are coming with me.”

He grabbed your upper arm and pulled you towards the back of the store, wheeling you past the older man. You caught his eye as you were struggling and something about them seemed… familiar. You knew for a fact that you had never met that man before, but he reminded you of someone.

You continued to try and pull away from the cashier, but his grip was painfully strong. You could have easily knocked him in the teeth and made a hasty retreat, but there was a witness, and if things got physical, you could be in much worse trouble.

He threw you into a storage room, located behind the counter. “I’m calling the cops. Don’t move.”

As soon as the door slammed, you looked around wildly, hoping to find an escape route somewhere. There was a large window behind you, but it was too tall to reach. Even if you could jump up to it, there was no way you could get it open without your feet on the ground.

This was bad. If the cops came, it was basically all over for you.

You ran around, searching for something to stand on, but came up empty. There was no other way of getting out, you thought,  when a subtle knocking caught your attention. Looking up, you were shocked to see the strange man from the mart pulling the window open.

You were so eager, you made a running started and lept straight for the window. You pulled yourself over the ledge and began to crawl through.

“Woah!” the man exclaimed, backing away as you struggled to escape the storage room.

He reached up, grabbing your shoulders and easing you out of the window.

“Hey. You gotta be more careful, dude. I was planning on helping you get out, but you really shouldn’t leap out of windows, head first.”

You didn’t have the time or the energy to fight this man on whether or not it was safe to escape from gas marts. You had been in much more danger in your life.

“I have to go. The cops will be here soon.” You made to walk away but he stepped in front of you, not letting you get a word in before holding up a bundle of papers.

“What are these?” he asked.

You immediately recognized them as the assortment of articles you kept in your bag.

You swiped them from him, but he didn’t put up much of a fight.

You chuckled, looking over the things he had grabbed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” he insisted. You looked up to meet his eyes, and once again, you were struck by how startlingly familiar they seemed. And then, you recognized them.

“You’re a hunter, aren’t you?”

A grin broke out across his face. “I knew it. As soon as I saw those papers I realized you must have been on a hunt.”

It was really weird, looking at him. You had never met another hunter before, at least, one that wasn’t a part of your family.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asked, sticking a hand out for you to shake.

You hesitated for a moment, before taking it. “Y/N. And you are?”

“Dean.”

There was something about Dean that put you at ease. You couldn’t tell what it was yet, and you weren’t entirely sure that you could trust it, but it was there.

“Let’s go get you something real to eat,” Dean suggested, beginning to walk away.

The comment made you tense. “I don’t need your help,” you fired back.

You reached into your back pocket, pulling out the gum you had managed to escape with.

“The fact that you were just trying to steal from a gas station says otherwise.” He turned around when he heard you open the packaging and stopped. “Did you just steal that?”

You smirked, shoving one of the pieces in your mouth. “I might be a better thief than you think.”

He rolled his eyes. “How did you manage to keep it?”

“Whenever I steal, I always grab a pack of gum and hide it on my person, because if you are caught with a backpack, they never think to search anywhere else. Why would they? Who would put all their stolen goods in one place except for one, unnecessary thing.”

He thought about it for a moment, then seemed to catch on. “Gum to ward off hunger,” he put together. “In case you can’t get food. Smart.”

You kept following him until he stopped at an old, black car.

“Well,” he opened up the driver’s seat door, “get in.”

You were froze, unsure how to react in this situation. You knew that you should go back to the motel you were staying at, but if this man was offering you food, how could you turn it down? He stood, waiting patiently for you to chose something.

“How do you know that I won’t just steal from you?”

“Because you’re hungry.” Dean looked down after he said it, making you think he’d been in a situation like this before. “Now, let’s go.”

~ ~ ~

“I really shouldn’t…” you started to say as you followed Dean to the diner.

“What?” he asked. “Where else do you have to be?”

“My brother-” you started to explain, but stopped yourself. “I just shouldn’t be away for too long.”

Dean didn’t slow down, walking up to a table and having you sit with him. “Older or younger brother?”

You couldn’t tell why he cared. “Older,” you grumbled.

“Huh,” Dean responded, looking over the menu. “Isn’t the older brother supposed to take care of you?”

“I can take care of myself,” you hissed, but immediately felt bad. “He tries. He doesn’t want me stealing, because he’s worried I’ll get caught-”

“Like you did today,” Dean interrupted.

“But he can’t look out for us both. We take breaks in small towns where he can get jobs and make us some more money, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. I try to get jobs too, but it’s harder for me.”

“You two don’t have any parents?”

You shook your head. “How do people get into hunting, huh?” you joked, but he was very serious. “No, not anymore. They went missing a couple of years ago. I was thirteen at the time. That’s why I have to get back to the motel before my brother comes back. He’ll panic.”

Dean went to respond, but right then, a waiter walked over to take your order.

You ordered your food, then turned back to Dean.

“Thanks for saving me back there. I don’t think I said it, but I really can’t go to jail.”

Dean shrugged. “No problem, but they might not have taken you to jail… they didn’t for me.”

Your ears perked up. “What are you talking about?”

“When I was about your age,” he explained. “I was caught stealing some food for my little brother. Our dad had left us some money before leaving on a hunt, but I lost it. So, I tried stealing to get us food and I got caught, and when my dad found out, he told the police to let me rot in jail. But instead they took me to this… place. A boy’s home.”

You laughed. “That sounds worse than jail.”

He shook his head quickly. “Of course not. I loved the place. I lived there for two months. I went to school, got onto the wrestling team, started dating this girl. I was a normal kid. No more hunting or anything. But, my dad came to pick me up as soon as he found another job and needed me to babysit, Sammy.”

“I could never leave my brother,” you argued. “We’re… he’s all I have. Besides… no one gets out of the life. You didn’t.”

Dean looked like he wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. “Sam’s the only reason I went back. My dad was a massive douchebag, but I could handle him. My brother on the other hand? He hadn’t been exposed to dad’s issues like I had. I couldn’t leave him alone like that.”

There was a pause, then Dean’s phone began to ring.

“Speak of the Devil,” he mumbled, then picked it up. “Hey there, Sammy… no, I’m fine. I stopped for gas and I… no, no, I’ll explain everything later-” Dean held up a finger to you to excuse himself, then stood up and left, still talking with his brother.

You glanced around the diner for something to distract you, but came up empty. Slowly, thoughts about a life without hunting: living with other kids, having a family, not being so afraid anymore, crept in.

~ ~ ~

“Can I have a box for this?” you asked the waiter as she passed by.

“Of course, sweetheart.” She smiled, walking to grab that for you.

Dean’s face scrunched together. “You only ate half of it. I’m sure you’re starving. Why not finish it?”

You looked down at your hands, feeling guilty. “I just…”

“You want to give it to your brother?” he asked.

You nodded, and he dropped the subject.

“What time is it?” You realized that you hadn’t been paying much attention to the clock.

“It’s…” he checked his phone, “almost 3.”

You startled up. “What? I have to go!”

You fumbled to throw as much food as you could into the box.

“Hey, hey, hey. Slow down.” Dean tried to help you, but you were almost running out the door. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you replied. “You’ve done so much for me today already. Plus, what would my brother say if he saw me roll up with a stranger.”

Dean stopped you. “Let me drive you. I need to make sure you get there safely.”

You just shrugged him off. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because, you remind me of someone.”

The comment really threw you for a loop, and suddenly, you were back in his car, explaining how to get to the motel.

As you pulled up, you briefly noted your brother’s car was there. Shit.

You turned to look at the man one last time.

“Thank you. For absolutely everything.”

He smiled. “Do you want me to go in with you and help you explain things?”

You shook your head. “Nah. I think I can handle my brother just fine… Take care of yourself Dean. And your brother.”

“You too,” he chuckled. “Please call me if you or your brother need anything.”

You got out of the car and slowly, walked up to the room. Before you had even gotten there, your brother opened the door and wild look in his eyes, which settled once he saw you.

He rushed over, wrapping his arms around you. You breathed in the smell and feeling of him, just glad that you could put him at ease.

Dean watched this sight from the car, a sweet smile on his face. He waited for the two of you to walk back inside before he started the car again and slowly left. Back to his brother and the big road ahead.

~ ~ ~

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[bestiesandagents]

Not a Hallmark Movie

Sam Winchester is a big shot lawyer in New York City whose life is made until his high school crush shows up at Christmas time to derail everything.

Dean Winchester is a mechanic in Lawrence, Kansas, but his holiday plans take an unexpected turn when the CEO of his company needs a place to stay.

Today’s chapter follows Sam, tomorrow’s will follow Dean, and then on Christmas I’ll post their Christmas celebration.

Word Count: 4661

Sam watched from his office window as Christmas lights lit up the city below. His boss had said he could get a Christmas tree for his office, but he’d declined. He didn’t need another reminder that he couldn’t be with his family on Christmas.

“What are you thinking about?” Ruby asked, her arms wrapping around his shoulders from where she stood behind his chair.

He forced a smile as he placed a hand over hers. “How much work I have to do,” he sighed.

“Well, that’s what you get for being so important to the firm.”

He made a noncommittal noise. This particular law firm had never been his end goal. It had been a good, starting position when he had gotten out of law school, but in his opinion, the firm more emphasis on making money than helping people, and that had never been what he wanted. But then he had met Ruby. She was the owner’s daughter, and Sam highly suspected that his relationship with her was one of the reasons he had been promoted. And now he was stuck. He was working for his girlfriend’s father, and if he ever left, his relationship would be ruined. But he was making good money and was certainly more successful that most people were at his age, so he supposed he shouldn’t complain.

The door opened and his secretary stepped inside. “Sir, your four o’clock is here.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Karen. Send him in.” He turned to Ruby as Karen stepped out. “Guess that’s my cue to get back to work.”

“Fine.” She leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “Don’t let daddy work you too late.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Because I have control over that.”

She gave him another kissed, then made her way out of the office.

As the door was closing behind her, someone else caught it, and Sam looked up to see that his four o’clock was immediately familiar. Castiel. His stomach did a backflip, he was pretty sure his heart was trying to beat out of his chest, and he had no idea what his face was doing. He hadn’t seen the guy since high school. How did he still have this effect on him?

“Castiel,” he said in surprise.

Recognition lit his eyes and he smiled. “Sam.”

He chuckled lightly at his surprised tone. “You didn’t know it was me?”

“I called into the firm to make an appointment,” Castiel explained. “They didn’t tell me who I would be meeting with. If I had known you worked here, I would have requested you, of course.”

“Well, I’m glad they put you with me. How’ve you been? Are you… living in New York now?” he asked, hope creeping into his voice.

“No. Just visiting family.”

He felt his heart sink slightly, irrationally. “Right. I guess that’s why I had the name Chuck down on my schedule.” He sank back down into his chair. He needed to remember that Castiel was here for business, it wasn’t an opportunity for him to catch up with his high school crush. Not that he needed that, anyway. He was perfectly happy with Ruby.

Castiel nodded as he walked forward to take a seat across from him. “That’s my father. I made him an appointment, but something came up.”

Sam frowned. “What’s going on?”

“My brother is stealing from him, and as my father gets older and his health declines, I know Lucifer is going to take even more advantage of him than he already is. I knew things had been bad for a while, but I didn’t realize how bad until I came for the holidays.”

“Do you have evidence?” he asked, picking up a pen and beginning to scribble away on his note pad.

Castiel explained the situation to him as he took notes. By the end, he was sure of three things: One, Castiel was right about what was going on. Two, it would be a very difficult case to win. Three, the case wouldn’t make the firm that much money, unless he vastly overcharged Castiel, which he refused to do.

Sam stared down at his desk. He wanted nothing more than to help him. This was exactly the kind of thing that he had wanted to do when he became a lawyer – help people in tough situations – and not to mention, Castiel was, or had been, his friend. But he knew what his boss would say if he even suggested taking the case. There was no real money in it and success wasn’t a guarantee. They would look at him like he was insane.

“Cas…” he began hesitantly. “I-I would love to help you out here, I really would. But… it’s just not the kind of thing our firm handles.”

Castiel nodded, looking down. “Of course. I understand.” He offered him a small smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Thank you for your time, Sam.”

He rose to his feet, and Sam followed his lead, reaching out to shake his hand. “It was really good to see you again,” he said fervently.

“You too.” He started to turn to go, but then he glanced back at him. “You know, your office could really use a Christmas tree. I feel it would suit you more.”

He laughed. “Why? Because I’m so Christmassy?”

He shook his head. “It just feels cold in here, and you’re a very warm person. You brighten every room you enter, much like a Christmas tree.”

Sam could feel his cheeks heating up and he really hoped he wasn’t as red as he felt like he was.

“Have a Merry Christmas, Sam,” Castiel continued as he turned away and started walking for the door.

“Cas, wait,” he found himself saying before the thoughts had fully formed in his mind. He didn’t know what he was doing, he just knew that he couldn’t bear to send Castiel away to deal with his situation on his own, he couldn’t bear to watch him walk away period. “I could take your case pro bono.”

Castiel’s eyes were wide as he turned back to him, shaking his head. “I could never ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

“Are you sure?” he checked.

He nodded, a smile spreading over his face. “I’m sure.” This was the most like himself that he’d felt since he’d moved to New York.

Castiel returned his smile. “Thank you, Sam.”

The next day Sam and Castiel met up over his lunch break to discuss the case.

“You really don’t have to pay for my food,” Sam insisted after Castiel instructed the waiter to bring him the check.

“You’re helping my family. It is the least I can do.”

He sighed but relented as the waiter set the check down on the table and Castiel snatched it up before Sam could do anything about it.

Once the check was paid, they bundled up, and Castiel fell into step beside Sam as he walked back to his office.

“So, what have you been up to since high school?” Sam asked.

“I’ve done a few different things,” he said with a shrug. “But I’ve been working with Dean for about a year now – as a clerk, not a mechanic. You know how I am with cars.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I remember when Dean tried to teach you.”

“I am never allowed to touch his car again.”

He swayed with his laughter, brushing against Castiel. “I didn’t realize the shop had gotten big enough to hire a clerk,” he said once he sobered up.

Castiel frowned at him, his steps slowing. “You do know what happened, don’t you?”

Sam came to a stop, turning to face him. “What do you mean?”

“Dean had to sell the shop. Crossroads owns it now – it’s part of their auto shop chain.”

“Wha…? He never said….” He shook his head. His and Dean’s father had started the auto shop when they had been kids, and they had done a fair share of helping out there when they were growing up. After their dad had passed away, Dean had immediately stepped up to take over the shop; it was all he had ever wanted to do, after all. He couldn’t believe that had been taken away from him. And Sam was familiar with Crossroads – they owned pretty much half of Kansas, at this point, dabbling in just about everything. Their CEO was a real piece of work, from his understanding. “If he needed money, he could have called.”

“You know Dean,” Castiel sighed. “He never wants to ask for help.”

“I know, but… he never even told me.”

“Well, to be fair, the two of you did sort of drift apart since high school. I mean, when was the last time you went to see him?”

He looked away. Too long, he knew that. But he’d felt bad enough leaving Dean in the first place, seeing him just made everything harder.

“Sam! There you are!” Ruby came darting out of the office building in front of them. “Where have you been?” Her gaze slid to Castiel. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Castiel – he’s a friend from back home,” Sam explained, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. He had always kept his old life from Kansas and his current life in New York very separate from each other. It was weird to be experiencing both at the same time. “He’s in town for the holidays, so we were just grabbing lunch together. Cas, this is my girlfriend, Ruby.”

Was he just imagining it, or was that disappointment that flickered in Castiel’s eyes? It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said with a small smile. “You have a really great guy here.”

“Yes, I do,” Ruby gushed. “I bet you can’t believe how far he’s made it since high school.”

“Ruby, stop,” Sam muttered.

“Oh, come on, Sam, be proud of your achievements! You’re impressive.”

“Right…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “So, you were looking for me?”

“Yes. My father’s invited us over for dinner tonight. I thought, you know, if there was anything you were wanting to talk to him about, it would be a good opportunity.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ruby had been dropping not-so-subtle hints like this for months. At least it had made Christmas shopping easy – he had bought her a ring just a couple weeks ago. “Sounds great.”

“Good.” She pulled him into a kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“She seems… interesting,” Castiel said once she had walked away.

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, she can be a little much sometimes. She’s really great, though.”

“I am glad you are happy,” he said, but there was something in his expression that Sam couldn’t quite put a name to. “You seem to have made quite a life for yourself here.”

“Yeah, I guess I have.” His expression faded slightly. “But maybe I should’ve kept in better touch with my old life. Maybe if I’d talked to Dean more, I could’ve helped him.”

“And maybe if I had kept in better touch with my family, things wouldn’t have gotten as bad as they are,” Castiel pointed out. “Everyone makes mistakes, Sam. You can’t beat yourself up over it.”

“At least you can do something about it, though. It’s too late to save the shop.”

“You can still call Dean. I know he would love to hear from you.”

Sam looked skeptical. “I’m not so sure about that…”

“He’s not mad at you for moving away,” Castiel assured him. “He just misses you.”

He looked down, his guilt weighing on him. “I should get back to work. I’ll be in touch about your case.”

He sighed and nodded. “I’ll look forward to your call.”

Sam and Castiel kept in pretty consistent contact over the next week, and Sam knew that he was putting more time into his case than he devoted to his paying clients, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Even on Christmas Eve, after he had finished up the rest of his work and was ready to leave the office, he found himself pulling Castiel’s file over to tie up a few things before he left for the day.

“I thought you decided not to put up a Christmas tree,” Ruby commented as she entered the office, looking at the tree Sam that had put up shortly after Castiel’s first visit.

Sam shrugged, only looking up briefly from the file. “Thought it made the place look warmer.”

She turned back to him, pouting slightly. “You haven’t forgotten about dinner, have you?”

He almost laughed at that. How could he forget? He had had an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket all day and his stomach was twisted into a thousand knots. But it was normal to be nervous before proposing. And these were just normal nerves, right?

“Of course not.” He smiled up at her. “I’m just finishing this up real fast.”

She walked around behind the desk, perching on the edge of it, and glanced down. “Castiel? Isn’t that the name of your friend? I didn’t know he was a client.”

“He’s, uh, not exactly. At least, not through the firm. I’m just helping him out.”

She stared down at him. “You’re giving away free legal services? Aren’t you better than that?”

He looked up at her, his expression incredulous. “Better than helping people who need it?”

She sighed exasperatedly as she hopped of the desk. “Look, Sam, I know you have a heart of gold, and I love that about you, really. But when someone’s as good as you are, you should be making money off of everything.”

He shook his head. “I’m not in this for the money, Ruby. I never have been. And if you don’t know that about me-”

“I know, I know, you want to help people – whatever. But you work to profit. When you start giving people hand-outs, they’ll start expecting it.”

“I have plenty of money-”

“But you could have more. And you can’t just think about yourself anymore, Sam. You have to think about our future. Okay, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but daddy’s going to retire eventually, and someone’s going to have to run this company. He wants it to be you. But if he knows you’re giving free legal advice, he’ll change his mind – the firm has an image to maintain, after all.”

He stared at her. His boss wanted him to take over the company…. But it was one thing following policies that he disagreed with, there was no way he’d be able to live with himself if he enforced those policies. And here was Ruby looking at him so expectantly. This was the future she had always imagined for herself, he realized – married to someone who made enough money to support her and who didn’t care whose toes they had to step on to do that. But that wasn’t him. How had it taken him so long to realize that?

“Ruby…” he said slowly as he rose to his feet. “I don’t want to run this company.”

Disbelief colored her expression. “But… think about how much money-”

“I don’t care about money! All I want to do is help people, and if that means I’m poor, then that’s fine by me.”

“But you can be so much more,” she insisted.

“I don’t know what you think more is, but whatever it is, I don’t want to be it.” He shook his head. “Is that all you see when you look at me? Someone with the potential to be successful and give you everything you want?”

“Sam, you’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I don’t think I am. I think I’m seeing things clearly for the first time in a while.” He grabbed Castiel’s file off his desk and started towards the door. “Goodbye, Ruby.”

“Might I remind you that that’s my house you’re living in?” Her voice was raising, going shrilly with anger.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find someplace else to stay.” He didn’t look back as he walked out the door, walking quickly through the halls and stairwells until he walked out the front door, taking a deep breath of fresh air, the reality of what had had just done hitting him.

He was heartbroken – he had thought that he had a future with Ruby, that what they had was real – but he also felt almost… free. For years now, his career and his girlfriend had been so closely tied together that they locked each other in place. But now… he could do whatever he wanted. It was an odd sensation, but not entirely unpleasant.

His phone began to ring and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Hello?” he answered, his voice slightly gruffer than usual.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel’s voice greeted him. “I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas Eve.”

He managed a small smile at that. “Thanks,” he muttered. “You too.”

There was a pause. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you at your office? I can come by.”

“I don’t want to pull you away from your family…”

“We’ve already wrapped everything up. I’m not far, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

He sighed. “Thanks, Cas.”

“I just thought things were different with her, you know,” Sam said a half hour later. He and Castiel were seated at a coffee shop, mugs of hot coffee in their hands. “But maybe I’m not meant to be with anyone.”

“You can’t really think that,” Castiel protested.

“Well, I mean, it’s not like I’ve had the best luck.” He shook his head with a sigh. “Everyone who ends up interested in me only wants something from me.”

“That’s not true,” he said firmly.

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “Name one person who ever actually liked me for me. And you better not say Becky,” he added quickly.

“No, not Becky,” he muttered, his gaze sliding down to his mug. “But there have been… others.”

“Who?” he pressed.

Castiel took a drink of coffee at the same time that he spoke, so it ended up sounding more like a garbled hum than an actual name.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

He set his mug down on the table, staring at it intently as though it was about to do something important. “Me,” he finally said, and Sam realized that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t just from the cold.

He stared at him in disbelief, unable to quite comprehend what Castiel had said. “Y-You?” he stammered.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be inappropriate, but you asked and-”

“When?” he demanded, cursing himself for missing his shot. Because no matter what, they had definitely liked each other at the same time. He had liked Castiel pretty much from the moment he had met him, and the more time he spent with him now, the more he realized he had never quite gotten over him.

Castiel continued to stare down at his coffee, but he didn’t answer.

“Cas…” he began hesitantly, afraid to hope. “You don’t… I mean, do you still…?”

“I should go.” He stood up from the table, but Sam shot up, grabbing hold of his arm.

“Please don’t. I…” But what could he say? He had been suppressing his feelings for him for so long, he wasn’t entirely sure what they were anymore. He knew that he had once loved him, but then Ruby had come along. Besides, Castiel hadn’t said anything about loving him, so even if he did still feel that way, now wasn’t the time to drop that bomb. So instead he did the only other logical thing he could think of, and he kissed him.

Castiel went still for a moment before he returned the pressure of his lips, hesitantly at first, and then with more insistency. By the time they broke apart, they were both a little breathless.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “You, uh… you want to go somewhere more private to talk?”

He nodded, a light in his eyes that Sam was sure hadn’t been there before. “I think that’d be good.”

“Great. I just… let me go to the bathroom, then we can leave.”

“Alright.”

Sam couldn’t decide if he wanted to take his time or move as quickly as possible. On the one hand, he had just kissed Castiel, and he felt that he needed to take a minute to process that, but on the other hand, he wanted to get back out there to him. Now.

In the end, he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself and then he walked back out to see Castiel standing beside the door, Sam’s coat draped over his left arm and staring down at something he held in his right hand.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

Castiel looked up, but that joyous light was no longer in his eyes; instead, he looked sad. He held out the thing in his right hand – it was the ring box that held Ruby’s engagement ring. “This fell out of your pocket when I picked up your coat.” He took a deep breath as he looked up at him. “Sam, I care about you a great deal, but clearly things were more serious between you and Ruby than I thought, and I have no desire to be a rebound.”

“You’re not-”

“I’m sorry, Sam, but I really do need to go.” He shoved the coat and ring box into Sam’s hands, then he fled from the building.

Sam tried to catch him, but he was already speeding away in a cab before Sam could do more than walk outside. He had a moment of blind panic, wondering what he was supposed to do now, but he knew the answer to that – he had already given up one chance with Castiel, he was not about to give up another.

He hammered on the door insistently until it was opened by Castiel’s father. “You’re not a Christmas caroler.”

“No,” Sam said, breathless. “I’m a friend of Castiel’s. Is he here?”

Chuck frowned. “He left over an hour ago. He’s flying back to Lawrence tonight.”

“What? What time is his flight?”

“Um…” He checked his watch. “In about half an hour.”

Unable to care about being rude, Sam spun around and ran off the front porch. The airport was about half an hour away from where he was, but maybe…

He was too rushed to even check the time as he ran up to the counter. “The flight for Lawrence, Kansas,” he gasped out. “Has it left, yet?”

The attendant looked at him in surprise before turning to her screen. “Yes, I’m sorry. Two minutes ago.”

Sam’s heart sank for just a moment, then determination stole over him once again. “When’s the next flight?”

She paused to look something up. “Tomorrow. Six A.M.”

He nodded resolutely. “I’d like to buy a ticket.”

He didn’t have anywhere else to go, so he slept in the airport. He couldn’t believe he was going back to Lawrence. He’d gone back for a week or so after he’d graduated from Stanford, but then he had moved to New York. Sure, he’d talked to his brother on the phone a few times – less and less as the years went by – but he hadn’t been back to his hometown to see him since he’d moved.

Of course, as soon as he stepped out into the Lawrence airport, he realized his problem – he had no idea where Castiel lived. He could call Dean, but… he so rarely spoke to him, and he felt bad calling on Christmas morning to ask where Castiel lived and adding, ‘Oh, I’m in town by the way – here to see your best friend, when I haven’t come to see you in years. I’ll probably stop by, though, if you aren’t busy.’

He sighed as he pulled out his phone, calling the person he always called when he needed someone tracked down off the record.

“What the hell are you doing working on Christmas?” Charlie demanded the second she picked up the phone.

Sam laughed. “Sorry to bug you, Charlie. I just need you to track someone down for me really fast.”

“Aw, and I didn’t get you anything. What’s the name?”

“Castiel Novak.”

She paused. “Why? What’s he involved with?” she asked worriedly.

He frowned. “Do you know him?”

“He’s a friend. And my friends come before my work. So, if he’s in trouble-”

“He’s not. I… I’m not working. This is personal.”

“Personal how, Mr. Sam No-Last-Name?”

Sam rolled his eyes. When he had started working with Charlie, he’d been very careful not to reveal too much to her. The work she did wasn’t exactly legal, so he did not need his name tied to her, just in case. “I screwed up, and I just need to talk to him.”

“Wait a second… are you…? Oh, you are, aren’t you?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’m what?” he asked hesitantly.

“You’re Dean’s little brother, aren’t you?”

Well, so much for that. He should have figured when she said that she knew Castiel. “Look, could you give me Cas’s address, please? I really need to talk to him.”

“Oh, definitely! Let me just pull it up. So, are you coming to Dean’s Christmas party tonight?”

“Um, I… maybe,” he said uncomfortably. Dean was throwing a Christmas party?

“You better make that a yes, mister,” she said sternly. “Alright, I got the address.”

Sam took a deep breath before he knocked on the front door of Castiel’s apartment. This had been so much easier when he had been rushing the night before. Now that he’d had all night and morning to think about what he was doing, he was nervous as hell.

The door opened and Castiel’s eyes grew wide in surprise as he saw who was standing on the other side. “Sam. What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you. Look, you need to know that you’re not a rebound. I would never do that to you. I’ve been falling in love with you since the moment I met you, but I always thought you just thought of me as Dean’s little brother, so I pushed it down. It was easier after I moved away to convince myself that I was over you. Hell, I was so determined to move on that I didn’t even realize I don’t actually love the woman I was planning to propose to. I just thought it was what I was supposed to do. Settle down, get married, put you in my past because that was the only way I’d be happy. But then you came into my life again and I remembered what it was like to be in love, and I didn’t feel that with Ruby. I’ve only ever felt it with you.” The words had just come spilling out of him in a flood, and now he was breathing heavily, as though he had just run a mile. “So… yeah. That’s it, I guess.”

Castiel’s expression was amazed. “You came all the way to Lawrence just to tell me that?” he asked slowly.

He shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do?”

A brilliant smile was spreading over his face, seemingly despite himself. “I have a phone, you know.”

He shook his head. “That wasn’t good enough.”

“Well…” He took a step back. “Would you like to come in? I’m afraid I don’t have any food, as I’ve been out of town, but Gabriel did send me home with some Christmas cookies.”

Sam smiled. “That sounds great.”

“Good.”

“Oh, and Sam?” he added as he shut the door behind him.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking back at him.

“I love you, too.”

Sam couldn’t help himself. He grabbed Castiel by the shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

[platonic-plots]

I thought you were someone else.

Request/Summary: After living in alleyways for months on a case, you were tired of living off of next to nothing. When a stranger leaves his wallet unattended, it almost seems like fate.

Pairings: sam x platonic!reader, dean x platonic!reader

Words: 1,729

Warnings: swearing, brief mention of death

Specific time/Important info: this is my entry for @waywardnewcomer​ ‘s writing challenge, with the prompt “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

You wiped the dirt from your forehead as you took a step into the diner.

“Salt and burn?” the owner asked you as you met her at the counter. Flo was a retired hunter, probably in her late 60s, who’d opened this place a while back. After being in the business for so long, she could spot a hunter from miles off; that’s how she’d gotten to know you. Usually, she’d treat hunters like any other customers (although, she would throw in a free beer or pie every once in a while if she felt like they needed it). You were a little different, though. You guessed that your young age was the reason she always let you clean up in the bathroom, or cooked you a hot meal on the house every now and then, or made sure you knew she was there for you if you needed anything. You’d been in this town for a few months at this point. Initially, you’d arrived for only one case, but you quickly became side-tracked by lots of smaller ones. After all, you had a big heart - you wanted to do everything you could to make sure everyone was safe, even if you were only a teenager. You still hadn’t solved the main case, but you were close.

“Yeah, but this one did not want to leave,” you gave a small chuckle at the end.

“I can tell,” replied Flo as she threw you the key to the bathroom. Smiling in response, you hurried to clean yourself up and change into a spare set of clothes you carried in your backpack, not wanting to waste anyone’s time. 

You came back out the bathroom and gave Flo her key back. As you did, she slid a bottle of water across the counter. You quickly unzipped your bag, doing your best to round up the few coins in the bottom of it, hoping you could scrape together a dollar. 

“Don’t worry about it, hun.”

“No I-”

“Y/n.” She used her grandma voice on you. 

“A-are you sure?” You appreciated everything she did for you but, at the same time, you didn’t want her to know that you didn’t have much to call your own. 

“It’s a bottle of water, y/n, I don’t think it’s going to bankrupt me.”

You smiled gratefully: “Thank you, Flo.” The harsh reality was, the only times you didn’t have to scavenge or steal food and drinks were when Flo gave them to you.

After saying goodbye, you left the diner and turned the corner to find the outdoor seating area. You looked around. It wasn’t busy, but there were a few people scattered about. Two men caught your eye.

“Hey, Dean, come look at this,” the taller one called over to the other. You watched carefully as the second one, ‘Dean’, took his burger from the table and met with the other man. He’d left two drinks unattended, as well as… You craned your neck slightly. Ah, his wallet. On the one hand, you usually had a heart of gold. On the other hand, he shouldn’t have been stupid enough to leave such a valuable possession just out in the open.

A girl’s gotta eat. Hell, a girl’s gotta survive. That’s quite a difficult task without money. Checking the two men were both looking the other way, you made your way past their table, swiped the wallet as subtly as you could, and carried on walking.

You held your breath.

“Hey! Kid!”

Shit.

Without thinking twice, you took off running. At least, you thought, you knew this place better than they did. With every twist and turn through almost forgotten roads, you regularly looked behind you – the two men weren’t letting you get away that easily. It had been merely minutes, but you felt like you’d been fleeing from them for an eternity.

You’d subconsciously betrayed yourself; the next thing you knew, you were nearing the back of the alleyway that you’d adapted to be your ‘home’ since you’d arrived at the town.

‘Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.’ These men were complete strangers. They could’ve been murderers for all you knew, and you’d led them straight to where you resided. ‘Great idea, y/n,’ you thought to yourself.

They’d been a fair few meters behind you as you ran, so there was a slim chance that they hadn’t seen the exact turn you’d taken. Not wanting to take any chances, you hid behind a few boxes and began to look through the wallet – the men seemed overly eager to get it back, after all.

As soon as you’d emptied its contents, one word returned to ring around your head: ‘shit.’ There were about five IDs stuffed in one of the pockets, all depicting different aliases, mainly just of John Doe names. Not to mention the abundance of credit cards, all under a variety of names. You’d pieced the puzzle together – this, plus the whole ‘rolling up to a new town for the first time in pristine suits’ thing. From your experience, it was enough to set alarm bells ringing.

They were hunters. They were the Winchesters.

You’d never met them before, and you’d only glimpsed at pictures, but your parents had worked a lot with John in the past, and even been on a few cases with the brothers themselves. They were the best in the business – they were not people to mess around with.

You barely had time to think about it as you heard footsteps approaching.

“Sam, I think that’s her.”

You messily shoved the items back into the wallet before standing up to face them, sliding the wallet across the floor, back to the man you knew was Dean.

“I-I-I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Hey! You don’t steal peoples sh- wait, excuse me? What’s that even supposed to mean?” He was far past angry, and you were approaching terrified.

“Dean, she’s just a kid.” Sam had been looking around at where you’d been living for the past few months – there was an unrolled sleeping bag, a couple of blankets, two rucksacks and a small tattered suitcase, all tucked behind a dumpster. He looked at you with sympathetic eyes and continued to speak, ignoring the protests from his partner. “My name’s Sam and this is my brother Dean.” He took a small step forward before speaking again, “you shouldn’t be out here alone – there’s something going on around here, it isn’t safe.”

You quickly reached over and took the notebook from inside one of the bags and flipped to the right pages, handing it to the friendlier of the two.

“I-I know, at first I thought it was changelings, but th-then I realised it couldn’t have been,” you paused as your shyness was getting the better of you.

The men looked at you in shock, and Dean broke the silence: “You’re a hunter.”

You gave a small nod in response.

He didn’t think before he blurt out “Aren’t you a little young? Where are your parents?” You watched his face physically drop as he realised that he could almost definitely guess the answer, and there was a touch of empathy in his gaze.

“I turned sixteen a couple of months ago. My dad was killed by hellhounds, I think it was just over three years ago. My mom committed suicide about a week later.”

Over the years, you’d learnt that you weren’t very good at talking about yourself or talking to strangers – you wanted to change the topic back ASAP.

“Um, at first, it was only the kids and mothers who went missing. There were a few moms who I interviewed a couple of days before anything happened to them, but they didn’t have any bruises on the backs of their necks. And now whole families have gone – I-I think it only went for kids at first because they were easy targets. I’m certain it’s a shape-shifter, because I’ve saw its shedded skin around the alleyways a couple of times, a-and it’s hiding out in the forest on the east of the town. I haven’t killed it yet because I’ve never been up against a shifter before, and it’s kinda hard to get enough information when almost nobody knows what they are,” you smiled slightly.

Sam had been looking through the notes you gave him with an impressed look on his face, and he was looking at his brother in a way only siblings could – you were watching a silent conversation unravel.

“Y-You can take the notebook with you.” A voice in your head told you how stupid you sounded – these hunters were fully grown adults, they didn’t need your help. Hell, these were the Winchesters. By your logic, if they needed your help, they were well and truly fucked. “I-I mean, if you want to, bu-but it pro-“

“That’s kind of you to say, uhh…”

“Oh – um – Y/n, I’m Y/n.”

“Thank you, Y/n. But we won’t be needing it.” ‘Oh,’ you thought, ‘I was just trying to help.’ Sam turned to Dean, who continued from where his brother stopped.

“We think it’d be more helpful if you came with us. We teach you all you need to know about fighting these guys, and you could tell us everything you’ve found since you got here.” He paused momentarily: “And maybe if you don’t end up hating our guts, we could go get some pie after it, and maybe you could stay with us for a little while. You seem like a smart kid – a good kid, Y/n.” Dean looked around at your belongings. “We could help you get back on your feet, y’know, give you some support.”

“Wow, oh, uh, thank you. That really means a lot, but I couldn’t do that to you. You barely know me; I don’t think you’d want this much baggage trailing after you.”

Sam got down to your level. “And you barely know us, yet you’ve just told us everything you’d spent months trying to research and figure out, so I think there’s already some trust between us, don’t you? Hunters are there for hunters, we’ve been in your position before. You don’t have to come with us, but you also don’t have to keep living behind a dumpster.” You shared a smile. Although you’d taken a few seconds to think about it anyway, your mind was already set.

“So what type of pie do you guys like?”

when i was writing this i got into one of those moods where every word that i type is awful and stupid but i don’t 100% hate the final outcome???? i hope you guys enjoyed it :)

forever tags: @phonegalhelp @pointlesscasey @unicorn-sparkles123 @pinapplequeen16 

[katymacsupernatural]

Bad Day at Black Rock

Sam Winchester x Reader

3000 Words

This is a rewrite of the episode, Bad Day at Black Rock. It is loosely based off the episode, where I have taken quite a few liberties. This is written for @wi-deangirl77 and her Favorite Episode writing challenge. The chosen gif and quote are both highlighted in the story.

The Supernatural world surrounded you. Monsters and hunters. Legends and artifacts. They were your life, and you had known nothing else since you could walk. There had been times you had wished for more. A simple life, going to high school, finding a boyfriend and a normal job. But you enjoyed what you did, even if many people didn’t understand.

You weren’t a hunter, not even close. Your Dad had been a hunter, but more than that, he had been a collector of ancient artifacts. Artifacts hundreds of years old. Items that could kill a person with just one touch, or bring a person unmeasurable wealth. That was what you were interested in. Not the killing of the monsters, but the rare, valuable items that people would seek for a hefty price.

Now, ten years after your Father’s death, you had taken the name he had made for himself, and made an even bigger business with it. Sought out by people and monsters alike, it kept you on your toes, traveling back and forth across multiple continents, hardly ever making it back to your home, located in the upscale neighborhood of Queen, New York.  

Another job, this one much closer to town. A lucky talisman, one told to bring great fortune to whoever held it, before turning to horrible luck. Your client, a wealthy man in Egypt had offered a seven figure number if you brought it to him by tomorrow evening. You hadn’t dared mention the bad luck turned to death factor, you hadn’t figured it was your place.

Hiring a couple of goons was easy enough. Simple humans who would do anything for a couple of bucks. It seemed simple enough, break into a forgotten storage unit, and bring back the box, unopened. But nothing in the Supernatural world was ever simple. The storage unit turned out to belong to the Winchesters, a notorious hunting family that you had only heard about. Guarded profusely by sigils and booby traps, your men had gotten hurt, but had grabbed the item nonetheless.

But instead of turning it over to you as instructed, they had kept it for themselves, opening the box and touching the blasted rabbit’s foot even though you had specifically told them not too. Frustrated, you had tossed together a quick overnight bag, climbing into your porsche, speeding the hour long drive towards that sleepy little town, knowing that you would have to get your hands dirty in order to meet your client’s deadline.

Sam’s POV

“What is that thing?” Dean asked me as we left that filthy apartment building behind us. Glancing down to where the item was clutched tightly in my hand, slowly relaxing my muscles to peer down at the fluffy white rabbit’s foot.

“I think it’s a rabbit’s foot,” I muttered. “Why the hell would someone steal a rabbit’s foot?”

“Beat’s me,” Dean grumbled as we climbed into the Impala. “All I know is my gun never freezes like that. Maybe it’s some sort of good luck charm.”

“Then why would it be locked in a spelled box?” I wondered out loud. “Why would Dad have it so covered in spells that it would be undetectable by most people.”

“I have no clue,” Dean mumbled, keeping his eyes, “But I’m starving. “Let’s get some food, and we’ll call Bobby. He’ll probably know what to do.”

After Dean made a quick stop at the gas station, we pulled into the parking lot of the local Biggerson’s. It was literally one of Dean’s favorite places to eat, especially on free pie days. As I sat next to Dean, reluctantly scratching the lotto tickets he kept handing me, he was on the phone with Bobby. “Yeah Bobby, it was this fluffy white rabbit’s foot…..Yeah, it was in a box.”

I scratched the next ticket, handing them to Dean, listening to his side of the conversation. As Dean sat there, listening intently, I climbed out of the car, needing to stretch my legs. My mind wandering, I noticed something in the weeds. Leaning down, I picked up the shiny Rolex, holding it out to Dean who was out of the Impala, still on the phone with Bobby. Giving me a thumbs up, he held out the scratch tickets, a huge smile on his face.

Shaking my head, I walked back to the Impala just as Dean hung up the phone. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“Bobby says that whoever’s holding the rabbit’s foot has the best of luck. And we’re talking finding money everywhere, everything goes your way,” Dean started explaining, holding up the scratch tickets. “Like this. Sammy, we’ve one 75,000 dollars!”

“What’s the catch?” I asked him, knowing there had to be. There had to be a reason this fluffy talisman had been locked up.

Dean frowned, letting me know my gut was right. “Well, as soon as the person loses it, their luck turns south. And we’re not just talking black cat crossing your path. We’re talking horrible luck until it kills you.”

Wrinkling my nose, I squeezed the foot. “Then I won’t lose it!”

With that assurance, Dean and I headed straight into Biggerson’s, right up to the host who was looking at us rather strangely. “Table for two,” I told him right before balloons started falling down, and he started clapping.

“Congratulations!” He exclaimed, holding up a huge sign. “You’re our 1,000 guest!”

Dean seemed caught up in the celebration, but I just made sure to hold on to the Talisman, waiting until we were finally seated at our table. “Wow, that’s the best,” Dean mumbled, his mouth full of pie. “We can have all the pie we want now, Sammy.”

Your POV

Walking into that apartment, you could immediately tell something was wrong. It took only a couple of minutes to find out my instinct had been right. One man was dead, the other completely distraught. The rabbit’s foot taken by a couple of men, leaving my deadline looming dangerously close. This client was not a man you wanted to get on the wrong side of.

After spending ten minutes with the distraught goon you had hired, you finally found out who the men were. Of course it was the Winchesters, you muttered to yourself, brushing your clothes free of dust before climbing into your car. You knew exactly where to find these Winchester’s. You just hoped you were clever enough to get away with it before they caught on to your little game.

Parking in the restaurant’s full lot, you reached into your backseat, pulling out your small little case you kept for emergencies. Inside were only the essentials. Makeup and colored contacts. A couple of wigs. Some name tags. Things that would get you in and out unnoticed.

Changing your h/c for a blonde wig, you added some red lipstick, a little blush to your cheeks. Subtle but enough to make you look like a different person. Taking a deep breath, you waited until the back door opened, slipping inside unnoticed.

The place was hopping, waitresses rushing back and forth. No one noticed when you picked up a tray, placing a coffee pot on it. With your eyes downcast, you made your way through the restaurant, unobtrusively looking for the two men who had the rabbit’s foot. You had searched them almost six months ago, needing to know as much about them as possible. Knowing that someday you would no doubt run into them. Your quick thinking had paid off, and know you easily recognized the two men sitting in one of the booths, Dean stuffing his face full of pie. It was the other man, with his shaggy mahogany hair, who was staring down at his laptop that you were interested in. He was handsome in his picture, his hazel eyes mesmerizing. Even from this distance, you could feel yourself being drawn to him. His shoulders were hunched, but you could see how broad they were, how strong. His legs were long enough he had to trouble fitting in the small booth. He was the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on, but he wasn’t in your radar. Hunters were off limits, or that’s what you had always told yourself.

His hand was in his coat pocket, rustling with something inside, giving away where the location of the rabbit’s was. Taking a towel from the bus boy, you made your way to their table, relieved to see that Sam was drinking coffee. “Refill?” you asked him, pulling his attention from the laptop. His eyes were even more vibrant in real life, drawing you in, making you want to forget all about this rabbit foot. To actually get to know someone that wasn’t just another job. You knew if you had the chance, you could be happy with Sam, and you hadn’t even spoken a word to him.

“Yeah, that would be great,” he agreed, as you leaned forward, your arm brushing his shoulder. The touch alone made you blush slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Your hand shook as you lifted the coffee pot, spilling the coffee over the table.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, having no problem acting the silly girl with a crush around him. “Here, let me!” Taking the towel, you patted down his side and thigh, not missing the clench of the muscle underneath your hand before you slipped your hand inside his coat pocket, wrapping the towel around the rabbit’s foot. Wishing you didn’t have to do this to Sam, you stepped back, smiling down at him. You knew what this meant, that you were literally signing his death warrant, but if it wasn’t his, it would be yours. Giving him one more half hearted smile, you walked away, glancing back to see both men watching you walk away.

As soon as you were outside, you ripped the wig off, tossing it in the dumpster before climbing in your car. Feeling as if you had left your heart behind.

Sam’s POV

The moment the waitress had offered me more coffee, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. She was absolutely stunning, with her beautiful e/c and the smile tugging at her lips. I didn’t even notice at first when she spilled the coffee, but feeling her arm brush against me, I wanted to grab her hand and pull her into the seat with me. To learn everything I could about her.

It wasn’t until I watched her walk away that I realized she had taken something very important from me. The rabbit’s foot. “Dean, it’s gone!” I exclaimed, pulling my pockets out, finding nothing but lint. “The rabbit foot, it’s gone!”

“What..it must have been the waitress!” Dean muttered, both of us standing up and racing outside. As Dean continued forward, I felt myself slipping, falling straight down, scraping my knees and hands as I went.

Straightening back up, I turned to see Dean rolling his eyes. “I see the bad luck is starting. We need to get that back. And fast!”

I kept my hands to myself, not wanting to cause chaos in the Impala as Dean drove down the street, his jaw clenched. “This is not good,” he muttered, mainly to himself. Pulling into the first motel parking lot he came across, he parked, racing inside without another word. It was only minutes later he was back, a key in his hand, already on the phone with Bobby. Standing there nervously, I waited for Dean to finish the conversation, rubbing my foot along the grate on the floor. As he went to hang up, I felt my shoe slip off, falling down into the gutter, where I couldn’t reach it. “What’s wrong now?” He asked, as I stood there, feeling horrible. Everything that could go wrong was, and I had no idea how to handle it.

“I lost my shoe,” I mumbled, my lip pouting.

“That’s why you’re going to stay here,” he insisted, opening the door to our room. Stepping inside, he placed a chair in the middle, pointing to it. “You’ll sit in that chair, and you won’t touch anything. I’ll go find that blonde witch, who Bobby named as Y/N, and get the rabbit’s foot back.”

Without another word, he left, and I sat down in the chair, my nose itching but I refused to touch it.

Your POV

Feeling victorious, you placed the rabbit’s foot down on your counter, pulling your phone out to text your client. Once that was done, you took one of your favorite bottles of wine, planning on celebrating a little early.

Popping the cork, you almost missed the sound of your front door opening. Leaning down, you reached into your wine cabinet for your hidden gun when you heard Dean’s voice. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he called out, and you reluctantly straightened.

“Dean, please,” you tried pleading with him. “If I don’t get this to my client, I’m going to die.”

He didn’t seem touched by your words. “Well, if I don’t get it back, then Sam’s going to die. And I care more about Sam then I do you.”

Your gaze must have shown were the rabbit’s foot was, because Dean lunged for it just as you did. His long limbs reached it before you could, holding it up victouriously. “Sorry sweetheart. I know Sam seemed to like you, but right now all I’m worried about is him staying safe.”

“Wait, let me come with you,” You pleaded, surprising both of you. “I can’t stay here. My client will send his bodyguards to kill me.”

Dean sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair, trying to decide if I was playing with him. “Fine. But if you even try to touch the foot, you’ll…”

He didn’t need to finish. “I know. And I want you to take it to Sam. I don’t want his luck to turn bad. Believe it or not, I do care if he survives.”

“Then let’s get going! I don’t want him on his own any longer than necessary. Who knows what could have happened already.”

Riding in the Impala with Dean was full of plenty of awkward silence. You sat there nervously, your hands clenched in your lap, never once trying to reach over and take the talisman from Dean. It seemed like he started to believe you halfway through the ride, finally turning to you, engaging you in conversation. “So, you like to sell cursed objects?”

“No, I don’t like to sell cursed objects,” you objected. “I procure rare and unique objects, selling them to the highest bidder.”

“Why?” He asked simply.

“Because I like the items. I like the beauty of them. The history. I also like the money I make,” you started explaining. “My dad, he was a hunter and a trader. I didn’t like the guns, or the deaths, so I turned to this aspect of it.”

“So, maybe you aren’t so bad after all,” he chuckled.

By this time he was pulling up to a run down motel where you could immediately see something was going on in one of the rooms. The curtain was ripped down, a man standing there with a gun in his hands. “Dean, the room!” you exclaimed, racing out of the car, heading towards the room where you knew Sam had to be. With his long legs, Dean beat you to the door, pushing it open, stopping in the doorway.     Running into his back, you peered around him to see Sam tied up, blood pouring from his nose.

“What’s she doing here?” Sam asked, seeing you behind his brother.

“She switched sides,” Dean answered. “Now how about you guys let go of my brother?”

“I don’t think so,” the one man muttered, holding a gun. “This is fate, I was brought here to kill Sam Winchester.”

“Not today. Because I’m holding the lucky charm,” Dean told them, picking up a pen from the table, throwing it straight in front of him, both of you watching in amazement as it stuck in the gun’s barrel.

“Did you see that?” Dean exclaimed. “I’m Batman!”

“Yeah, you’re Batman,” Sam answered sarcastically as you threw a remote, hitting the other man in the head, knocking him unconscious as Dean knocked the other one out.

Racing over, you untied Sam, gently cupping his cheek. “Are you okay?” you asked him, searching his face.

“Yeah,” he answered, his gaze connecting with yours. “But why did you come back?”

“I couldn’t be the reason for your Death. I know we don’t really know each other, but…”

“I felt it to,” he answered.

“I hate to break up this touching scene, but Bobby told me of a way to get rid of this Rabbit’s foot, and break the curse. Shall we?”

Sam looked your way, and you nodded. “Maybe afterwards, I can take you out for dinner? Actually have a chance to get to know each other.”

“I’d like that,” you answered, reaching for and grasping his hand in yours. “But first, let’s break this string of bad luck.”

The two of you began walking towards the door, when you felt Sam start to drag you down. Turning in time to see his foot tangled up in the bedspread, his large frame heading straight for the floor, taking you with him. He rolled, taking the brunt of your fall, with you landing on top of him. Your body was completely on top of him, both of you chuckling softly. “Maybe we let Dean complete the ritual, you and I stay here where we can’t get into as much trouble?”

“That sounds like a better plan,” you agreed, not wanting to move.

Sam/Jared Tags:@a-girl-who-loves-disney @barbedwireandbubblegum @kay18115 @musicalsarelove @lenaabs @lovesamwinchester @sadmac356 @shadowhunter7 @shawnsassymendes-main @sireennotsiren @sizzlingbearpolice @sortaathief

Forever Tags: @16wiishes @4401lnc @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @angelsandwinchesters @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @bemyqueenofdarkness @bohowitch @brooke-supernatural16  @brunettechick @camelotandastronauts @captainradicalpassion @chelsea072498 @clairese1980 @captainemwinchester @createdbybadappreciation @darthdeziewok @destiels-new-girl @donnaintx @dont-you-dare-say-misha @dslocum89 @duckieburns @docharleythegeekqueen @dontslurp @emmazach @emilicious-7 @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @essie1876 @generalgoldfishldrm @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @imboredsueme @internationalmusicteacher @ithinkimadorable-67 @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busy-fangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @keelzy2 @li-ssu @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice @mellowlandrunaway @mogaruke @my-squirrel-and-moose @nanie5 @newtospnfandom @oneshoeshort @percussiongirl2017 @pilaxia @pizzarollpatrol @plaid-lover-bay25 @rosegoldquintis @roxyspearing @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @spnbaby-67 @sunskittlex @superbadassnatural @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @thebikiniinspector @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tmccarney @totallovelesson @tunadean @vvinch3st3r  @winchesterbrothers-inc @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

[thewinsisterchronicles]

Do You have Any Idea?

Tags list: @zeusmyster @mogaruke @emfrodo @assbutt-still-in-hell @spn67-sister @bluewhisperstale @littlewinchester67 @sammysbeanie

Prompt by @winchesters-favorite-girl : Do you have any idea how worried I was?

A/N: ok so this turned out to be WAYYY longer than I thought it would and I’m (sort of?) sorry for how it ended but if you want I might be able to make a second part if you ask for it

Dean jolted as his phone vibrated on the nightstand next to him, startling him awake. He sighed as he threw off the covers, not even trying to be quiet for Y/N on the other bed. For a hunter, she was a pretty damn deep sleeper.

Groggily, he grabbed his phone off the table. He instantly became alert when he read Dad on the caller ID.

“Hello-” Dean started.

“About damn time,” John grumbled. “Been ringing for an hour.”

“Sorry sir-” Dean tried to no avail.

“Whatever.” He heard shuffling on the other end of the line. “Listen, I need you to drop everything and drive to Omaha. Now.”

“I’ll wake Y/N and we’ll be out there in five hours-” Dean had started to get up and move to his sister when John stopped him.

“No.”

Dean froze, unsure how to respond. He frowned.

“What, uh,” he cleared his throat, “what do you mean?”

“I mean don’t bring Y/N,” John growled. “She’ll just slow everything down, and I need you now. Get your ass here in three hours.”

Click.

Dean slowly brought the phone down from his face. He glanced over at Y/N’s figure; silent, asleep, waiting to wake up to Dean’s rock music that she always pretended to hate (Dean wouldn’t know better if he hadn’t caught her- on multiple occasions- singing along to the music). 

Dean couldn’t just leave her. But he had to.

Grabbing his duffle and shoving in some clothes, he bolted for the door.

In his rush, he didn’t even notice that he accidentally took Y/N’s only phone with him, too.

Y/N woke on edge. Something was wrong. It was eerily quiet- too quiet, if she knew Dean. There was either a prank or monster involved, and she wasn’t sure which one she preferred.

Stealthily moving her arm under her pillow, she grasped her gun. Taking a breath, she abruptly sat up, eyes wildly searching for a threat. When she found none, Y/N stood up. She kept the gun, though. Something still wasn’t right.

It was Dean. He was gone.

Instantly she became alert. Dean was never gone. He never went anywhere unless without telling Y/N unless he absolutely had to; even then, he always left some kind of hint. But there was none.

Did Dean go on a supply run? She wondered. It was only 8am.

Maybe he needed to leave,

she thought to herself.

Help dad.

Y/N frowned. If dad needed help, why wouldn’t she have come along? She didn’t even mess up the past couple hunts they went on.

“Just call them,” she muttered to herself. Striding towards the kitchen with gun in hand, she moved to where she last remembered her phone being.

It wasn’t there.

Now Y/N was really starting to panic. Dean was gone, with no note as to where he was, and she couldn’t find her phone. It was…

Well, shitty, to say the least.

“Dean,” Y/N sighed worriedly, “what did you do?“

19 days.

That’s how long Y/N was alone for.

There had been no contact from Dean or her father, and she couldn’t use any of the phonebooths in town because ‘no one had used them in years so it was time to take them down.’ She didn’t even have a vehicle.

So Y/N did the only thing she knew how to do. 

She waited.

Waited for an answer. Waited for a hunt. Waited for a familiar face.

She ate with whatever she could buy for $100 from the guys she had hustled when she and Dean went to the bar. she would’ve gotten more if Dean hadn’t punched the guy she was playing for looking down her shirt.

She felt better afterwards, though.

The $100 burned through pretty quickly, so she had resorted to hustling again. There was no one to get save her from the creepy bar men, so that terrified her, but hey; you gotta do what you gotta do.

She was deciding whether to get food or save for when she was really hungry when there was a knock on the door. 

Tap, tap tap, tap.

She heaved a breath of relief. That was Dean’s knock. Her eyes widened.

Dean.

Holding her gun to the back of the door, she opened it a bit.

“Dean-” she began, but stopped herself short. Y/N had meant to rip him a new one, but it appeared that someone had already tried to.

Her brother was covered in scars and blood, caked in slime and sweat and dirt. He smelled awful, worse than words could describe. She was taken aback at his appearance. He’d never been like this before.

“Hey,” he croaked out. His voice was soft and raw, telling a million stories all wrapped up in just one word.

“Dean!” Y/N breathed out. “What the hell- where did you- I…” she rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead. “Damn it. Get your ass in here.” Dean smiled softly at her, waiting for her to explode at him. He knew she’d be concerned first.

They were family, after all.

Silently she worked, cleaning his wounds and applying bandages and stitching him up. She didn’t say a word, didn’t look him in the eyes. Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted her to. Y/N wiped away the last of his blood from his forehead before putting away the first aid kit. She walked to the kitchen, bringing back a glass of water.

“Drink,” she instructed. Dean drank.

“So-” he began. “Nope.” She answered. “Y/N, you’re obviously mad at me here,” Dean tried.

“Oh, look!” Y/N mocked. “Detective Dean here finally figured something out! Do it again; it was a great trick.”

“Y/N,” he sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry. Dad called and I- I had to go. He just told me…”

“What?” Y/N questioned. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” Dean said quickly. “Dad didn’t say anything about you.”

“I never said that it had anything to do with me,” Y/N glared. “You left me, Dean. Don’t lie to me, too.”

“Alright,” he conceded, “fine. Dad said to meet him in Omaha for a hunt. When I mentioned waking you up, he told me… Dad said he didn’t want you to come.”

Y/N was shocked. She shouldn’t have been, since this was coming from her father. But hearing it from Dean…

It felt worse.

“Oh.” It was all she could muster. She shook her head, sitting across from him. “Well, that doesn’t matter as much as you leaving without so much as a warning. What were you thinking? You took my phone, took the laptop, took pretty much damn everything except for me, a gun, and $100 from hustling we did a couple weeks ago. I had to go back there to get more money-”

“What?” Dean stood up. “Did anybody try anything with you? I swear I’m gonna rip their lungs out-”

“Oh, so now you care?” Y/N raised her voice, catching Dean by surprise. She stood you, jabbing her finger at his chest. “I was alone for two and a half weeks with not nearly enough money to keep me going, and you have the audacity- the nerve-to come back and ask if someone tried something? Unbelievable. Of course,” she added on, seeing him open his mouth, “so was you leaving me without a note or anything, so I really shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Y/N,” Dean said, impatient. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was this big of a deal. If I had known…” he trailed off.

It was quiet for a minute. Dean wanted to reach out and comfort Y/N, but he knew that any movement towards her would result in her shuffling away from him.

He wasn’t sure he could bear to see it.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Y/N finally whispered into her hands. She was leaning against the table, trying to calm down but failing miserably. “You were… I was alone. Scared. With no clue as to where you went or when you were coming back.” Her voice lowered an octave. “If you were coming back.” Dean swallowed thickly, looking away from his baby sister and clamping a hand over his mouth.

“Y/N,” he croaked, looking back at her. She didn’t look back at him. “Y/N-”

“No.” She stood up, not even sparing him a glance. “You don’t get to talk. You left me; just like Sam, just like dad.”

Y/N knew she had crossed a line, talking about Sam and Dad, but she didn’t care.

“If I had known…” Dean trailed off. “Y/N, I thought-”

“That’s your problem!” Y/N snapped. “You don’t think, and I always have to make up for it, or pretend that it’s okay. It’s not. And I don’t know how to make you listen.” She grabbed her coat, walking over to the door.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Dean asked, angry.

“Don’t worry,” she said, jaw tense. “I don’t leave family.”

She slammed the door without so much as another word. Dean missed her grabbing her phone and gun before she left. He certainly didn’t hear her steal a car.

•••

It had been too long.

Only three hours, keep in mind, but too long.

Dean heaved a sigh. There were a thousand places to go, and he didn’t know where his baby sister would be. The least he could do was call her to trace the phone and find out where she was. He didn’t waste a second before calling her number. She picked up on the third ring.

“Dean-” she sighed.

“I thought you said you didn’t leave family,” he asked, trying desperately to reign in his anger.

“I don’t.” Her voice was monotone. She held no emotion in her words.

“But you left me,” he prodded.

“I know.”

Dean felt like he had been stabbed. No, he had been stabbed before; this was worse. It felt like a thousand hands were ripping him limb from limb, like the devil himself was carving every word she spoke to the most fragile parts of him, inside and out.

“Y/N-” he croaked.

“Goodbye, Dean,” she said. He almost missed her voice wobble. Y/N sighed. “I’ll come back. I just need time.” “Y/N-”

Click.

They both pretended not to cry that night.

•••

That didn’t actually happen. There was no way that Dean could’ve messed up that badly. He was always looking out for Y/N. It couldn’t have happened.

But it did.

And that’s what he thought every single moment after the phone conversation.

Dean didn’t even care that his dad was going to kill him. He didn’t care that he had failed his duty as her older brother. He didn’t give a damn about what Sam would’ve said-

Sam.

He would never know about how it was Dean’s fault. Hell, Dean probably wouldn’t even know anything for a long time.

Not unless she picked up.

Dean hurriedly scrolled through his phone, hoping, dialing her number and praying, that she’d pick up.

It went to voicemail. Y/N’s cheery voice rang through.

This is Y/N private cell! Please leave your monster and a memo, and I’ll get right back to you.

A beep! followed her voice. Dean took a moment before saying anything.

“Y/N.” His voice broke. He coughed, but it didn’t change anything. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I should’ve said it earlier, but I…” he chuckled wetly. “You know how bad I am at apologies. I’m not trying to make an excuse, ‘cause I know you’ve heard enough, but I just thought…”

Dean’s mind flashed back to their earlier fight.

That’s your problem! Y/N had screamed at him. You don’t think, and I always have to make up for it, or pretend that it’s okay. It’s not. And I don’t know how to make you listen.

“I didn’t think,” his voice softened, “and that was my first mistake. But now I’m thinking, and I…” He had trouble carrying on. His voice was wet and dry simultaneously, cracked and raw and a thousand other things he didn’t have time to describe.

“Come back,” he pleaded. “I know I should’ve said a million things back when… When we were still together. But I’m going to say them now, because you deserve to hear them.”

The tears had spilled over his eyelids now, rolling down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them away. He gazed longingly at the bottle on the nightstand beside him, but drew his attention back to his phone, back to Y/N.

“I failed you,” he whispered. His voice was wet, and it cracked on the last word. “I failed my baby sister, and I don't…” He ran a hand down his face. He tried to focus on breathing, but his breath was coming in raggedly.

“Y/N.” Shuddering breaths took up space between his words. “Y/N, baby girl, I am so, so sor-”

Click.

The message stopped recording.

Dean slid down the wall, thumping his head against it. The tears were coming in waves now: no matter how hard he tried, they still managed to spill over. He clumsily grabbed for the liquor bottle on the bedside table. He drained it of its contents, revelling in the way the whiskey burned down his throat.

He fell asleep like that; nursing an empty bottle, watching the blurred car lights as they drovepast the window and illuminated the room. His thoughts were everywhere, focused on everything and only one thing: his family.

He failed his dad. He wanted Dean to be the perfect soldier, a boy fighting a war without asking for instructions but taking orders anyways. His dad wanted a warrior, but got a coward.

He failed Sam, too. The boy he swore he’d protect. From the moment he had carried his baby brother from the fire till the moment he set foot out the door for Stanford, Dean always thought that he was there for his little brother. Now that he thought about it, Sam had alway been the crutch for Dean. Dean always felt like he had to be strong for Sam, but he couldn’t even hold it together when his baby brother left for college. His brother needed a hero, someone to side with him, but he got a silent bystander. Pathetic.

And Y/N. That probably hurt Dean the most. Everyone had left him: his father, when John had left for days– or even weeks– on end; his brother, when he went to Stanford or talked about ‘getting out of the life,’ like he and Dean could do it together; every single damn friend or family member that ever knew or met him.

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

She was always there for him, always watching and monitoring him like she knew exactly what he was thinking, or what his next actions were. She always knew. Y/N was there for Dean when he acted like he didn’t want her to be, always pretended that she didn’t know his weakness because he didn’t like having them. She only needed a brother. One who stayed by his side. That was all she ever asked.

And he couldn’t do it.

But now she was gone too. Because he left her. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

[writingwhywhywhy]

Empty Chapter One

John came back in a worse mood than most hunts he finished. Dean subconsciously flinched, but Sam stayed still in his sleep. John had a bundle that he passed off to Dean. The bundle cried. "Her name is Mary, and she is your sister." John mumbled before falling onto an open bed.

Dean looked down at her. She looked a little like Sam, but nothing like his mother. He knew she was his half sister, but part of him had hoped maybe his mom was out there and this was all a bad dream. Maybe this would be the proof his mom was alive and well. It was proof that he was trapped.

"I promise to protect you, but I have to protect Sammy also. We gotta work together, the three of us." Dean whispered to her, and the two of them would be thick as thieves.

Later down the road, Sam lived by himself for a week. Sam didn't ask for permission nor told anyone. Dean paid it for dearly. Mary helped as best she could. She wished John would die or that Dean could escape.

She got her wish for a bit a few months later. Dean was caught stealing because John failed to leave enough money for food. She saw Dean get caught (he had gotten caught to prevent her from being caught). Sam never knew that they had to steal from time to time to get by. Dean only took her with him because she knew how horrible John could be. Sam never really did.

John was furious and demanded to know where Dean had went. Sam had repeated the story Mary had told. Dean had been arrested for skipping school. John would later punish Dean for her lie and the fact he got caught. John finally found him and the authorities had put him in some home due to the marks on him. Dean could have stayed there for the rest of his life. When Dean returned, she asked him why. He told her the frightening truth. Dean couldn't leave her and Sam alone with John.

===================

Dean always remembered her birthday. Sam would from time to time. If John had left the 3 of them at Bobby's, Bobby would have some cake. John only remembered her birthday once in his entire life, the day she turned 12. Both Dean and her wished he hadn't.

Sam had left for college, unknowingly leaving his two siblings with a more pissed off John. There was nothing to hunt, so John was over drinking in their dingy motel room. "Happy Birthday." He shouted at Mary's general direction.

It had sounded like a command. Dean was sitting next to her. John had stopped hitting him when Sam turned 13. Sam became way taller than John, and Dean had bit of an attitude. There was a chance Dean would reveal how bad John was, and Sam might do something about it. Mary knew Dean wouldn't suffer for her response. She said the safe one anyways. "Thank you." She said

John never really liked it when she called him dad or father or anything other than John. Mary would have rather called Dean or Bobby dad so she didn't mind. "I should've left you at the hospital." He said

"Yes you should have." She responded

John crossed to them. He slapped her hard. Dean put himself between the two. John raised his hand to hit Dean. "So what are you going to do? Beat Dean for not raising me right?" Mary shouted trying to protect Dean.

That would be a mistake she would regret. John left several bruises on her. Dean stopped John but not before Mary was bruised enough to make Dean's stomach sick. Dean loaded her into the Impala. He dropped Mary at Bobby's, where John ignored her for a year. Dean would check in on her and life was good.

Bobby and John had the worst fight when he finally came to get her with Dean. Bobby swore he never wanted to see John's face again. John translated this to Bobby never wanting to see a Winchester again. Dean was able to keep John off of her for the rest of their time together.

Dean always blamed John for Mary befriending  Elijah and Niklaus. He never like either of them. Even before he knew they were vampires.