#if i were mary i would never stay at the bunker with two grown men whom i dont know were sniffing around me

[ahsokasforce]

supernatural writers really hate women because why is when mary screws up is “why don’t you just try to be a mom for once” and when john literally abuses sam and dean for over 20 years it’s “well it’s okay dad we know you did your best” like… HE DID NOT? STAND UP!! they made dean trauma dump on mary and list all the shit that happen to them when it’s was over john’s watch because she was dead? and that “i hate you but i love you” moment? WTF??😭😭😭 they were never this harsh on john but all it took was one single season to be enough to hate her… anyways thank you supernatural for bringing her back so people could say she’s on the same bad parenting level as john and killing her off for male trauma 😻🎉 girl power girls get it done etc etc

[adhdeancas]

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia. 

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?” 

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?” 

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about. 

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks. 

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname. 

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

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

“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles. 

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom. 

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

“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome. 

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing. 

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

 “Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying, 

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly. 

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary. 

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

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

“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice. 

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.” 

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up. 

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

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

They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.” 

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex. 

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude. 

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously. 

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom. 

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”

[nonagesimus]

happy birthday! are you still taking prompts? something sam and cas discussing the whole casifer thing maybe?

if you wanted something more like. productive and healthy, I am sorry. again this is roughly part of touch verse (but all you need to know is that they're in an established relationship).

tw for references to sexual assault (Toni Bevell) and slight unreality in the aftermath of the incarceration in 12x09

(AO3 Link)

-

The basement door had shut, the sound echoing around the walls, and Sam had been left with his family -  Dean, and Cas, and the not-ghost of his mother, which – all of it was a story someone was going to need to tell at some point soon. But with just them, the British Men of Letters gone, he could slouch. Sag down. Not worry so much about letting the last couple of days show.

Cas said, “Sam,” soft and sad. “Let me heal you.” Then he stepped towards him, one hand reaching out and- and-

He’d been keeping his distance. They’d both been keeping their distance, or at least it had seemed like they had been. Maybe it hadn’t been enough time to tell, between Cas being Cas again and the ambush in the bunker. Because Cas was Cas again, Sam knew that, had known that, had held onto that like a lifeline and-

Cas reached out to heal him and he flinched. Froze. Sucked in a breath and held it because otherwise he was going to hyperventilate. Cas’ hand paused too, kept moving only when Sam nodded to him. A rush of grace healing him, then Cas stepped back, and Sam slowly let the breath out. Pushed himself upright, and Cas withdrew further, going to Dean. Sam flexed his newly whole foot against the floor and didn’t look at them.

There was a conversation happening. Mary - Mom? He didn’t know what to call her - was watching him like a hawk.

He needed to be outside. Out of this basement. The Brits had to be gone by now. He could hope they were gone. Mind made up, he strode to the steps - maybe Dean said his name, but his ears were ringing a little - and then up and out.

Daylight washed over him. Something in him relaxed, at the feel of sun on his skin again. It felt real. Real real, not the daydream of a bed, somehow both cloying and ephemeral. This was just the sun, warm on his skin, a reminder that the world was still there. He shut his eyes, breathed deep, listened to boots clomping up the steps behind him.

He already knew it was Dean, but hearing his voice say, “Sam,” before his hand clapped onto Sam’s shoulder still helped. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, opening his eyes again. Mary was with Dean, and Cas was behind them, eyes searching.

“I’ll meet you there,” he said, nodding towards them, and he walked away first.

Dean, thankfully, kept going like nothing was awkward. Jerked his head towards the road. “Car’s this way. You good on bare feet or you want me to go get it?”

If Dean went for the car, Mom would probably stay with him. Sam couldn’t tell if he desperately wanted that or wanted to shy away, so he said, “I’m good to walk.” It would be good to move, anyway.

Dean kept up the chatter all the way to the Impala. Part clear relief, part recognising Sam wasn’t up to talking yet, and the silence needed to be filled.

“We’re about six hours out from the bunker,” he said, as they finally approached. “So, you’ve got time to catch a nap if you want to stretch out in the back. Unless you want the passenger side?”

Sam shook his head. “I’ll take the back.”

He did fall asleep there, listening to Dean and Mom talk in the front, an odd parody of his childhood. Like he’d slipped somehow slightly to the left, some world just adjacent to the one he’d grown up in. Shuddered awake as the car pulled into the bunker garage, took a moment to reassess. Still Dean driving, Mary in the passenger seat. Body still whole, after being healed. Feet still bare, clothes still crusted with sweat and blood. He sat up carefully, rubbed a hand over his face to clear away some of the grogginess.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, you’re up,” Dean said. “Did they feed you in there? I can make you some food.”

They hadn’t, but Sam’s stomach rolled at the idea of eating. “I think I want to shower first,” he said.

“Yeah, dude, you reek,” Dean said. “Go clean up, I’ll get started on food.”

He hadn’t been planning on going back out but showered, in clean clothes, he thought Dean and Mary deserved that. Proof of life. Put on a good show, eat something, take part in the conversation. Something about the way Mom kept glancing between them twinged something - he thought about when he’d come back. Before he’d remembered, a year and half of blank space, Dean and Bobby both watching him with a weight he couldn’t parse.

It was something to focus on, and he took her Dad’s journal, and tried to say the right thing, and when she hugged him he almost broke.

So when he got back to his room and Cas was there, he was already fractured.

It wasn’t an intimate tableau. Cas was just standing by his dresser, the door to the room open, waiting. He swallowed hard, shook off the arrested momentum, finished walking inside.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Sam,” Cas said. Grave, and soft, and concerned. His hands twitched like he wanted to reach out. Sam looked away, felt tension fill his shoulders. “Are you alright?”

The least Sam owed him was honesty. “No,” he said, “but I don’t think that’s anything you could help with. Right now.”

Cas’ face only got graver, and Sam hadn’t really meant it like that. That it was Cas in particular that couldn’t help, but he couldn’t quite grasp the words to explain.

“I understand,” Cas said. “If that changes…”

“I’ll let you know,” Sam said, not sure how he’d be able to tell. “It’s not- you’re not- I’ll be fine, this was just-“ He shook his head. Just physical, but it hadn’t been. Not Cas, but it was. He didn’t even have thought, he was down to sentence fragments and a hollowed out feeling in his chest.

“I want to help,” Cas said.

“You-“ said Sam, “He-“ and he didn’t have to specify who he was talking about.

Cas looked wrecked. Looked ashamed, and part of Sam thought, good, and part of him wanted to bury his face in Cas’ chest and never let go, and all of him felt wrong.

He took a deep breath.

“When she started,” he said, “When she had me in that basement.”

Cas said, “Sam,” and Sam help up a hand to stop him.

“I told her. I told her I’d been tortured by the Devil himself,” his voice was more even that he expected it to be. “So, what did she think she could do to me?”

Cas’ hands twitched again. He didn’t reach out. Sam couldn’t tell if he was grateful or not.

“And I was right, y’know?” He shook his head. “She couldn’t do to me in two days what he could in two minutes. And what he could do with your face.” It looked like Cas was going to speak again so he shook his head again, cutting him off. “And I get it, Cas, I do, I know why you said yes. I just-“ His voice cracked finally. Throat clicked shut.

“I understand,” Cas said. “I- if you want space?”

Sam nodded, guilty at the helpless look on Cas, face. “I think space would be a good idea.”

Then Cas was gone too, and he was alone.

It hadn’t been a lie. Not really. Lucifer - the name tasted like stomach acid even when he was just thinking it - could take him to pieces far more efficiently than Toni Bevell could. And Sam couldn’t stop seeing it, the tilt of his head, the line of his jaw, the curve of his smile on Cas’ mouth when he’d reached into Sam’s chest, ready to close that fist and detonate. It was there all the time in the corner of his vision but-

But.

The door to his room shut behind Cas and even as he breathed a sigh of relief, her voice whispered, Was it good for you? into his ear.

His skin crawled. He felt dirty but he’d already showered, and the comfort would be nice but he couldn’t take another body in his bed.

—

Sam broke through the trees, saw Cas, and didn’t think before he went crashing into him. It had- they hadn’t- It had still been tense. Before Dean and he had gotten arrested. Sam had still been holding his distance, a little, Cas hadn’t been staying in his room like he used to, it had been…

There had been an equilibrium, if one that pleased neither of them.

But that was before the- the time. Sam couldn’t put a word to how much. The cell door had shut behind him and he’d taken in the concrete walls, the buzzing fluorescent lights, the quiet and- He didn’t need to count days. Days would pass with him or without him. He’d eaten when they gave him food, and shut his eyes when he wanted to sleep, and done push ups when he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin.

Tried to remember some of his college classes to pass the time. Twelve years ago, give or take a couple hundred. He didn’t remember much.

But they were out, and then in a forest that felt hyper-real, where the sky felt too far away, where Sam’s focus had to narrow down on getting out. Blood in his veins, breath in his lungs, cold steel in his hands. Cas appearing out of the trees like a dream.

Not a dream, Sam went crashing into him and he was solid, and warm, and holding Sam as tight as Sam was holding him.

A breath caught in his lungs. He somehow found strength to hold even tighter. Saw Mom over Cas’ shoulder. Hugged her too.

(It was bittersweet, it was probably going to be the last time, he didn’t want to explain it, Dean thought it was going to be him but Sam wasn’t letting him do that, it was going to be Sam, it was, it was, until it wasn’t, until Mom, until Cas’ blade plunged through Billie’s chest, and the broken deal felt bitter but Sam-

Sam was alive.)

The bunker was a relief and a cage. Familiar, and closed in, and concrete walls again. The buzz of the lights.

It didn’t smell like the cell had. Sam breathed in.

Cas was following him again. Trailing where Sam went, watching him like he was going to be tested on it. Like he didn’t know what to say. Neither did Sam.

He tried to ignore it. Showered, got into his own clothes again. Found Cas in his room, sitting on the chair beside his desk. It wasn’t unexpected. Something about it felt almost dreamlike. The forest, after the cell, that had been a shock to the senses. Too much, too different. The bunker, that was familiar. Even if he hadn’t been there in- in some amount of days. Definitely weeks. Maybe months. His mind shied away from the idea of asking. It wasn’t a dream though, he reminded himself.

“Sam?” He’d maybe been standing in the doorway too long. Cas looked concerned. “Should I go?”

He shook himself. “You don’t have to.” Moved further in to sit down on his bed. “Did you want to talk?”

Not the right thing to say - he saw Cas’ expression dim. “Yes, I- I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find you.”

“How could you?” Sam said, attempting a smile. “You were the one who hid us from angels in the first place.”

“I’m still sorry,” Cas said. “You were alone.”

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve been,” Sam said, which was true even if neither of them wanted it to be.

There was still something urgent in Cas’ eyes, so Sam lightly patted the bed next to him. Cas shifted to the bed. Sam felt the mattress shift underneath him.

A voice in his head whispered, was it good for you? and he tried to push it away.

Took Cas’ hand in one of his, but didn’t touch him otherwise. Didn’t look at him. He heard Cas let out a long exhale at the contact. Dry skin to dry skin, the one thing that didn’t feel like a dream.

“I let you down again,” Cas said, quietly, and Sam shut his eyes.

He wanted to say which time? He wanted to tell him it didn’t matter. Wanted to turn and pull Cas into his chest and hold him. He couldn’t quite get himself to move.

Cas said, “Sam?” again, and Sam realised he was gripping Cas’ hand so hard he could feel the bones grinding.

He let go. Folded his hands in his lap. “Sorry.”

Cas touched his arm. “You need rest.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t say anything. With his eyes shut the lights buzzing sounded like the cell.

“Why did you kill Billie?” he asked.

“Because I’m not losing you,” Cas said. “And I’m not losing Dean, and I’m not letting you lose your mother. None of you deserve that.”

“Yes we do,” Sam said. “All of us have cheated death. We need to stop at some point. I don’t- I don’t want anyone else to die for me.”

Cas’ fingers brushed his face and he flinched. Opened his eyes. Cas had frozen, hand still raised. The tips of his fingers were wet. Sam realised he was crying.

“I couldn’t let you,” Cas said. “I- After Lucifer, we never…” He shook his head. “You were gone, and I couldn’t find you. I wasn’t going to lose you again right after I found you. I didn’t want you to go through any more pain.”

“I know I should say thank you,” Sam said.

“You don’t have to,” Cas said. “I know you don’t want to.”

“I miss you, Cas,” he said. “I miss you all the time. I want us to work through this, I do, just-“ He broke off. The buzz of the lights was giving him a headache.

“Sam,” Cas said. “Sam, I would do anything-”

“Yeah,” Sam said, wetly. “Yeah, I know.”

That was always the problem. Someone who would do anything. Anything smelt like Dean’s blood soaking into carpet, felt like hellfire, felt like grace crackling through his hands. Sam didn’t want anything.

“I’m gonna get some coffee,” he said, after a valiant attempt at composing himself.

“Sam, you should sleep,” Cas said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m gonna get some coffee.”

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter Ten

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because I'm the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :3 yo im so sorry for not posting this yesterday i had two softball games and when i got home i just wanted to relax so i hope this makes up for it <3

-> Word Count: 2.1k

-> Warnings: the infected, thas bout it lol

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat @zphilophobiaz

Y/n woke up to a wolf paw in her face. Hades kicked slightly in his dream and scratched her cheek. She pushed it away and looked around. She was more comfortable than she had ever been, since before.

Jirou was passed out with her arms around Hades. He loved to snuggle when he slept. Y/n smiled, knowing that he was getting more comfortable in the new space.

The light of day was filtering in through the canvas of the tent. It was small and cozy in the tent and the air had grown stale with the three of them breathing in it.

She stretched and realized what she was wearing. It was a loose t-shirt with the word ‘hide’ on it, the shirt was black and too big for her. She was also wearing jeans with tears and holes on the knees. She felt a bit of a breeze in the back felt around her but to discover holes back there as well. She frowned. She needed her pants back.

“You’re finally up.”

Y/n turned around to see Bakugo smiling at her. He was beautiful. She couldn’t stop herself from gawking at him in his black t-shirt with a skull design and his dark gray sweatpants. His eyes met hers and he noticed the way her eyes traveled his body.

“How come you get pants with no holes?”

He laughed, “We only have so many clothes. The last trip to a mall was three years ago. We share everything.”

Y/n glanced at Mary who was snuggled against a guy holding the little brat, “Everything.”

He turned to see what Y/n was watching and he laughed again, “Not not everything. She’s just really friendly Y/n. She’s like that with everyone. But if you’re interest we have a few girls who’re single.”

“What?”

“If you’re interested.”

Y/n shook her head, “I don’t know what you mean.” Bakugo laughed at her. He was in on a joke that she was not.

He sighed, “So want to go over the map with me?”

“I told you last night, I don’t know maps. I know where I’ve been by remembering the woods.”

“What?”

Y/n pointed to the tent, “I need her to stay here and be protected. She’s sixteen. She’s lived a hard life.”

Bakugo made a face that made Y/n laugh, “Yeah I figured she was staying.”

“Her mom and aunt just died, Her other aunt was taken to the breeder farms.”

His red eyes sparkled, “She’s just our kind of girl then.”

She was confused by him, but she didn’t have time to figure him out. She couldn’t get the picture of him playing the guitar in the firelight out of her head. It was almost like there were two of him inside of his body. Sweet Bakugo and Business Bakugo.

Mary came over carrying the monster.

“Andy, what do you have to say to Y/n?”

The boy looked down at the ground and pouted, “Sorry.”

He fidgets with her blouse and looks up to meet Y/n’s frown with a smile.

“Okay thanks.” Bakugo and Mary laughed. “Mary, will you watch Jirou until I get back?”

She leaned up and hugged Y/n, “Be safe Y/n and hurry back.”

Y/n hugged her back. She still hugged like an iron rod. She noticed the waay Mary hugged like a person and she hugged like a robot. She hugged just like Mina and her heart hurt thinking about them.

She turned and opened the tent, “I’m leaving Jirou. You need to stay here and help out okay. They need the extra hands.”

Jirou woke up and instantly gave Y/n a snarl, “No. I’m coming with you.”

Y/n shook her head, “No you need to stay and hang with Mary. I’m taking Bakugo to the farmhouse. I’ll be back in a couple days.”

She layed back down, “Fine.”

Y/n looked at Hades, “You coming or staying?” He stretched out on the sleeping bags and snuggled into Jirou who laughed.

“He likes me better.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Traitor. She zipped the tent back up and walked back to Bakugo, whose eyes sparkled in the morning light. “What?”

Bakugo shook his head, amused by Y/n for something, “You’re funny Y/n.”

Xxxx

The walk back down the mountain was less painful and considerably faster than the walk up. Her feet didn’t hurt and Bakugo kept a fast pace. Unlike Jirou, he never spoke.

When they made it back to the meeting tree, they both paused and listened. She led across the open field with a sprint. They made it to the edge of the field and crouched down to look for any signs of life in the driveway. The barn swung open and shut. They’re back. She knew that she sealed the barn door completely when she left. She could hear Bakugo’s breath on the back of her neck as she watched the house silently.

She turned and whispered, “Let me go look first.”

He shook his head and pointed to the barn door. She turned and looked again.

She almost jumped when she saw them. It felt as though they were watching her. As the barn door swung open and shut a pair of eyes watched from inside. Stains of bloody tears streaked the gaunt cheeks below.

Her stomach twists and turns and she backed up but Bakugo put his arm on her to stop her from running away,

“Stay still.” His words made her skin shiver, as his hot breath landed on the back of her neck. Y/n didn’t move. The barn door opened and closed several more times. Then suddenly it opened and the eyes were gone.

She looked up at the loft window to see the thin figure pass by it. The window overlooked the field perfectly. They would be seen. Suddenly she was on the ground, in the hay and wrapped up in Bakugo’s long body. He held her close to him.

The wind played with the hay around them, it whispered to them.

She could feel his heart beating against her chest. They were face to face but her eyes darted around them. She heard footsteps. She heard something else, it was the way an exhale sounded when your throat was a ragged mess.

The infected were near them. She wanted to pull her shirt over her face. She wanted to run. She needed her mask but she had left it behind. Another rule she had broken.

Bakugo stroked his thumb along the back of her neck, where his left hand lay. He was trying to calm her nerves, before she gave away our location. In the gusts of warm wind and the calm silence of the ragged exhales, she heard a sound she didn’t expect. It was the hollering of men and the high moans of the infected.

The footsteps left the hay around us. The moaning and ragged breath became harder to hear, as distance was put between them.

Bakugo whispered into her forehead, “Oh my fucking god.” They laid in silence for a moment. He peeked his up to look around but she pulled him back down.

“One more minute.” He frowned but as she spoke the barn door closed several times hard. A raucous noise filled the air, different types of commotion began after it. “We need to leave now.” She whispered into his throat.

He pulled back a bit and looked at her, almost looking through her with his intensely red eyes. He tilted her chin with his free hand and lightly feathered his lips against mine. His kiss wasn’t intense like Kirishima’s was or soft like Mary’s. It was somewhere in the middle and filled with more of everything. He kissed beside her mouth and whispered into her cheek, “We’re going to crawl from here and then make our way to the forest on the other side from where we came. We don’t want to lead them to the camp.”

He kissed once more just along the side of her lips and let her out of his firm grip. He moved away from her and slithered backwards, away from the farmhouse. She followed him. The hay slicing along her skin gave her small cuts. When they got to the halfway point between the forest and farmhouse, Bakugo stood and hunched over. She did the same, listening intently to every sound.

They made their way into the forest where he broke into a run. She followed him until they reached the bigger trees. He climbed one of them quickly. She looked around and started to feel uncomfortable. She didn’t like to be on the ground without Hades. She climbed the next largest tree and scrambled up the branches until she was as high as he was.

The farmhouse, her farmhouse, was nearly entirely in view. She could see the field she had crossed too many times to count. Pain crept around inside of her as she imagined her bunker and rations and her clean little spaces, all torn apart by the infected.

“So Mina and Kirishima were here with you?” His voice betrayed his lack of hope.

She nodded. She saw a small cluster of men fighting the infected like fools. They would get sick. They would become infected and maybe they would die because not everyone was able to live with running sores and bloody tears.

“God, they should have run.” She recognized one of them. He was the man who shouted the loudest when the man with the evil grin peed on the fire. The man who pulled down her pants.”

“Those men held me captive. They’re the others.”

“Do you know where their camp is?”

“Yup. I’d like to avoid it.”

“What if they have Kirishima and Mina?”

The pain in his eyes hurt Y/n somehow, “I never said I was going to avoid it. I said I’d like to. I’m betting they have Kirishima and Mina.” She took one last look and knew it would be a long time before she ever came back,, if she ever did. She took her last look at the white siding and the small windmill in the front yard waved goodbye to her. As her feet made their way back down the tree, she saw something that made her feel the smallest amount of fear and hope simultaneously. On the ground is a small bandage and above it was a broken branch. She looked deeper into the forest and saw another broken branch. “They got away. They’re this way.” She pointed.

Bakugo looked at the bandage and scoffed, “Y/n that could belong to anyone.”

She shook her head,”No it’s not. It’ll smell like tea tree and the branches,” She pointed to them, “I told Kirishima it was howI always found my way through the woods.”

He bent his face to the ground and sniffed the air around the bandage, “It’s tea tree.” Y/n turned to run, but he grabbed her arm as he stood and pulled her into him. “One thing first.” He put his hands on the small of her back and lifted her into his arms. His lips met hers with desperation and excitement. His tongue slipped into her mouth, caressing hers. He sucked and nibbled on her lower lip as his hand rubbed her back. Suddenly his hands made their way lower and didn’t feel uncomfortable as he cupped her ass and lifted her into him/ He wrapped her legs around him. She was feeling the way she used to when she read the romance novels stored at the cabin. She felt a heat rising low in her belly.

He let her slide down his body, till her feet touched the ground again. Air rushed between them. She opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them, and looked up into his face.

He grinned, “I’m going to have a hard time staying focused.” Y/n giggled like a schoolgirl. It was the first time that sound had left her lips. He kissed her softly one last time and walked away toward the broken branches and Y/n followed. “I never imagined they were alive. I went back to where they were when I got taken and I couldn’t find them. I knew Kirishima wasn’t very responsible- well neither of us were.” He ran a hand through his blonde shaggy hair.

“Mina told me you guys were pretty bad at paying attention.”

He chuckled and Y/n caught herself staring at his butt. It was round and firm and when he took a step, it moved in a way she enjoyed. She realized when she watched him, that she felt a small amount of guilt. Kirishima kissed her too. Kirishima made her smile and made her laugh.

Bakugo made her scared of him but safe against the world, where as Kirishima made her feel the opposite.

[acearchivist359]

Castiel Winchester

I couldn’t get the idea of Cas being asked what his last name was and not having an answer and Dean supplying that his last name is Winchester out of my head so I wrote it. This is entirely gratuitous and self serving but hey why not?

I also posted it on ao3 with a more dramatic title: human and home

     Dean and Cas were in the kitchen when Dean got the call. The radio was playing and Dean was making dinner. Though Castiel didn't enjoy food anymore since his grace returned, he loved watching the care with which Dean prepared it, even though he appeared to spend a lot of time distracted by his music. Sometimes Cas would eat the food anyway just to see the proud smile on Dean's face when he assured him that it was good, though Castiel was mostly guessing. The call was from another hunter, someone from one of Sam and Dean's old hunts, inviting them to a different old hunters funeral. Dean, of course, agreed. He felt obligated, having hunted with the deceased a few times back in the day, at least that's what he told Castiel. Besides, he was offered beer, burgers and pie. Castiel had quickly learned that was a surefire way to get Dean to agree to anything. Dean went back to cooking, telling Cas some old hunting stories since they were on his mind. Occasionally Dean would pause to sing along to a few lines of the song before picking back up where he left off. When Sam joined them in the kitchen, he echoed Dean's sentiment of obligation and agreed that they should go. The drive would take around 24 hours, but Dean had never protested an excuse to take his "baby" out for a long drive. Castiel sat with the boys through their dinner, accepting the food and beer Dean offered him without protest. They talked about who they thought would go to the funeral, and filled Cas in on more stories. Castiel wondered what he would do in the Winchester's absence, assuming the invitation extended to the brothers only.

  Cas had long since grown used to spending his time with Sam and Dean. He no longer felt the need to spend any time in heaven, especially with it being in disarray, and he hadn't for a long time. Any time Castiel was alone was usually off searching for some thing to stop yet another apocalypse or to help the Winchesters. It was strange for Castiel to be alone in the bunker. The Winchester's presence was a sentient thing. The sound of the boys bickering over lore books, or Dean’s laugh from the kitchen, or the music he played in his room, filled the halls of the old bunker with life. Castiel could feel their presence whenever he was there. The bunker felt hollow when the brothers were gone and all Castiel was left with were the old ghosts of the Men of Letters.

  The boy's went off to pack, knowing they'd be staying at least one night in a "crap motel" as Dean called it, and Castiel wandered off in to the library. He scanned through the shelves of books, looking for something to occupy himself with while the boys were gone. He debated picking up an angel book, often finding himself amused by pointing out the inaccuracies. He placed the book back down though when he realized that was only fun when Dean was there to laugh while writing in Castiel's revisions with his messy handwriting. Castiel decided on a book about wendigos, remembering a story Dean told him once where they worked a wendigo case. Castiel settled down at the table to read and wait for the Winchesters to return.

  “Dude what are you doing?” Dean asked, peeking his head in through the library door. Castiel had been mentally debating if he thought the wendigo book would last him the whole time the boys were gone or if he should choose another. Maybe he'd watch a show Dean recommended on the Netflix.

  “I’m going to read, Dean,” Cas said, opening his book, “I thought you were leaving.”

  “Yeah, we're waiting on you,” Dean said, “Let’s go.” He nodded towards the garage, smiling at Cas.

  “I wasn’t aware I was invited.” Castiel didn’t look up from his book.

  “Dude of course you're invited,” Dean chuckled, coming into the library “Me and Sammy aren’t gonna leave you here by yourself.” He walked over to stand in front of Castiel. “You can be my plus one.” Dean patted Cas’ arm, smiling at him. Castiel, disarmed by Dean's smile, barely noticed Dean taking the book from his hands until he was halfway to the library door.

  “Dean,” Cas sighed, “I was reading that.” He was already halfway out of his seat.

  “Read it in the car!” Dean called back to him from the hallway, laughing. Castiel sighed, exasperatedly, but followed Dean anyway.

  Castiel was glad for the invitation in the end. Sitting in the back seat, listening to the Winchester brothers bicker over the radio was much better than being in the bunker alone. Castiel knew in the back of his mind that his home had never been heaven or the bunker, his home was this. These two boys arguing and laughing, whether in their car or the bunker or some crap motel.

  Eventually Sam decided he wanted to sleep, so Castiel traded places with him to sit in the front with Dean. Cas watched Dean out of the corner of his eye while he sang along quietly along with his radio. Every so often Dean would make a comment about one of the songs to Cas, telling him about which band was playing, the songs Mary had loved or John had played often. Castiel listened intently to both Dean and the music, taking in all the details. He enjoyed hearing Dean’s stories, the way his face softened when he spoke of his early childhood. Dean was softer in the car at night than he'd been while cooking dinner. He'd pulled a sweater on over his flannel at some point while driving, he'd left it unzipped but pulled the sleeves down to his hands. Sometimes Dean would look over at Cas and smile softly at him in the glow of the streetlights. Castiel couldn't figure out exactly what that meant.

  Cas watched the relaxed way Dean drove in the early golden light of the sunrise. His elbow propped up on the window, the way his body angled slightly towards the inside of the car. He was resting his head on his left hand. He looked tired but content. Sam woke up when the sun had fully risen and their moment was over, but Castiel was quite at piece with listening to the boys bicker again. Every hour or so, Dean would send Cas an amused glance, raising his eyebrows, before he saying something to purposefully rile Sam up again. Castiel would shake his head at him, but it only made Dean more amused.

  When they finally arrived at the other hunters house, Dean parked the car and they walked up to the house. There were cars parked in various spots up and down the street, most of them old, some looking rather beat up. Clearly none of them were as well loved as Dean's. Castiel lingered behind Sam and Dean as the hunter opened the door. Castiel could clearly see he was a hunter, given he was wearing the lumberjack style clothes Castiel had come to understand was not just particular to Sam and Dean but all hunters. As Sam greeted the man, Dean glanced back at Cas and saw him standing there with his hands by his sides, looking out of place. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Cas through the door with him.

  "Cas, this is Daniel.” Dean patted Daniel on the shoulder before turning to put his jacket down. “Me and Sam helped him out with a werewolf case… what was it? 6 years ago?”

  “Sounds about right?” Daniel said, shrugging. Dean, having put his coat down, did the winking finger gun thing he always did. Cas noticed he did that a lot.

  "This is Castiel, our resident angel," Dean gestured to Cas, "the real deal, you know, wings… harp." Castiel glared at Dean but returned Daniel's handshake when he stuck his hand out. Castiel had been around since the beginning of that gesture, but he never did understand what the purpose of it was, only that it was polite. 

  Sam and Dean, despite their preference for being around only people they considered family, seemed to be largely enjoying the gathering. Castiel hung behind, standing off against the wall behind where Dean was sitting. He felt entirely out of place among all these hunters, despite having been on a great number of hunts with the Winchester brothers over the years. He could tell countless hunting tales but that would never make him one of them. Dean, however, told lots of stories. Sometimes Sam chimed in to correct him when Dean was making himself seem cooler. Dean was laughing merrily and drinking his beer. Every so often he’d prompt Cas for his input on a story, which Castiel would gladly supply him with. Dean would chuckle at Cas' monotone comments and Cas would smile a little.

  At one point Dean made another comment about Cas having a harp, which made Cas sigh. “Dean,” he deadpanned, but that only made Dean laugh harder. Castiel sighed again and went off into the kitchen to get himself another beer. Dean's was nearly empty, so it only made sense to get another for him as well. It didn’t do much for him in the way of intoxication as it did for the hunters, but it helped him feel more like he fit in. In the kitchen, there was a woman Cas had yet to meet.

  “Hello,” Cas said, clearing his throat. He’d learning in his early days with the Winchesters that people didn’t like being startled when he appeared. The woman turned around to look at him and Cas waved awkwardly.

  “Hi,” the woman smiled, “Did you need another beer?” she asked, noticing the bottle in Cas’ hand.

  “Uh, yes,” Cas responded before adding, “Please. And one for my friend.”

  She handed Cas the two bottles, opening one which Cas assumed was meant for him, but made no move to exit the kitchen so Castiel stayed, leaning against the counter behind him. It was something he'd seen Dean do in the kitchen of the bunker. “You’re new here,” The woman commented, studying Cas with her arms crossed, "I've never seen you before."

  Cas nodded, awkwardly. He knew hunters tended to be wary of people that they didn’t know so he supplied, “I'm Castiel.” He took an awkward sip from his bottle, for something to do.

  “Sarah,” she returned, "Daniel’s wife." Sarah stuck her hand out to shake, like her husband did. Castiel returned the favour. "Did you know Aiden well?"

  Castiel assumed Aiden was the first name of the hunter who had died, Dean had referred to him as something else, so he shook his head, "No." This only made Sarah look at him oddly so he continued with, "My friends spoke of him very highly though. He seemed like an excellent hunter."

  “Sorry you said it was Castiel? Just the one name?” Cas nodded, "So do you just like the one name thing? Like Beyoncé?" Castiel didn't think she was insulting him, but he thought there was something off about the way she laughed. He realized belatedly that she must have assumed he was some sort of undercover monster.

  "I don't have one, you see-" Castiel started at the same time a voice chimed in with, “It’s Winchester.”

  Cas turned to see Dean standing behind him, he hadn't heard him come through the doorway. "Castiel Winchester." He pointed at Cas as he repeated the name. Castiel blinked at him in confusion. Dean walked over and leaned on the counter next to Cas. He looked at Cas and gestured to the unopened bottle in his hand, "That for me?" Castiel held the bottle out to him. Dean caught his eye and smiled, opening his beer. He clinked his bottle against the one in Castiel’s hand before taking a sip. Castiel smiled down at his bottle as Sarah looked back and forth between the two of them. Dean started to make small talk with her.

  There was something about the feeling of being included so naturally as part of Sam and Dean's family, that made Castiel feel very warm and content. He liked the proud way Dean had added his last name to Castiel's singular one. He had had one singular name for centuries, in all his time of being an angel he had only ever been Castiel. Then he had met Dean Winchester. When Dean nicknamed him Cas, it was the closest Castiel had ever come to being human. After all that time, the wars he'd fought and won for heaven, all his angelic triumphs, being called a Winchester by the righteous man was the highest honour Castiel had ever received. He very much enjoyed being Castiel Winchester. It made him feel human and home all at once.

  “C’mon Cas,” Dean chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around Castiel's shoulder and bringing him with him, “or I’m gonna convince everyone you really have a harp.”

  “Dean,” Cas sighed, but it didn't have any irritation to it. Dean laughed loudly as Castiel walked with him out of the kitchen, still smiling to himself.

[georgialouisea]

I have a family

Pairing - Dean x Reader, Sam, Mary, John, Addison (oc)

Word Count -2.1k

Warnings - Angst, fluff, 300th episode /season 14 spoilers

Anon requests - 

1) Hey! I saw request were open and I was wondering if you could write a Dean Winchester x reader based in Lebanon when John is talking to dean and says “i imagines you’d have a family..” and that line of dialogue and when Dean says “I do” he has a wife (reader) and maybe a kid together and Dean and y/n introduce their child to his/her grandpa. Just sweet and fluffy. You can decide the name and gender for the kid! Thanks❤️

2) Please, please, please write something about Lebanon. I love when you write about episodes.

Dean was fighting. He was fighting hard to keep Michael behind that door in his head. He was tired and in pain. He was trying to keep himself as busy as he could with hunts and research, you’d wake up to a text or a note from him letting you know he was off on another hunt.

Walking into the kitchen you expected to find it empty, not to see your husband stood at the sink. Walking towards him your arms wrapped around his waist as your cheek rested against his back.

“Hi.” He mumbled.

“Hi.”

Grabbing the towel he dried his hands as you let go of him he turned to face you. “You’re beautiful..” He smiled down at you, his fingertips running across your cheek to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“What are you doing here I thought you were off finding that skull the guy stole.”

“Oh we are, I’m just waiting for Sam, so you were awake last night on the couch, you just wanted me to carry you to bed?” He raised a brow at you.

“You two talking about skulls and pawn shops was the last thing I remembered before I actually fell asleep.”

“Hey, I’m ready -” Sam walked into the kitchen stopping when he saw you wrapped up in each others arms. “Sorry, I’ll be in the car.”

Dean nodded at him over your shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”

“I know.” You smiled up at him. “Go be the good guys.”

Leaning down his lips pecked yours as he pulled away. “We won’t be too long, I’ll be back in time to read Addison a bedtime story.” Winking at you he started to walk away.

“Dean.”

He stopped walking and turned to face you at the mention of his name. “Yeah?”

“Stay safe.”

“Always.” With a smile, he headed off to the garage.

--

Sitting in your car outside your daughter’s school your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling it out you expected an update from Dean, not a text from one of your ‘Mom friends’ as Dean called anyone you met because they were a parent of one of Addison’s friends.

‘Hey babe, I’m running so late at work I’ll be an hour or two. Can you please please please watch Libby and pick Max up from daycare? I’ll take you out for dinner and a huge glass of wine!’

‘I’m on it. Take as much time as you need!’

‘I owe you big time!’

‘Text me when you’re home I’ll drop them off.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Any time hun x’

Getting out of the car you texted Dean letting him know you’d be home a little later than usual. “Mommy!” Addison ran towards you with a grin on her face.”

“Hey, beautiful how was your day?”

“Good! Miss Adams gave me a sticker for doing good in math.”

“That’s awesome baby, hey where’s Libby?”

Addison looked towards where Libby was standing next to one of the teachers waiting for her mum to pick her up. “There.”

“We’re gonna hang out with Libby and Max for a little bit their Mom’s working late.”

“Okay.” She nodded as she looked up at you with her beautiful green eyes she’d got from her Father. Running off towards her friend you couldn’t help but smile as her light brown slightly lopsided pigtails bounced as she ran.

You never thought you’d be here, not in a million years. The day you met the Winchesters was still as clear today as it was all those years ago.

A man staggered into your Dad’s house clutching his shoulder as blood poured through his fingers.

“Y/N, get the first aid kit!” Your dad shouted from the kitchen as he helped the man sit down, running and grabbing it you held it out to your dad as you watched two boys walk in. “Y/N this is Sam and Dean Winchester, go and watch TV with them while I help their Dad, you got that Ladybug?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Taking the boys hands and pulling them towards the couch you smiled when they both sat down. “I’m Y/N.”

The older boy smiled back at you. “I’m Dean, this is my little brother Sammy.”

“Hi Dean, Hi Sammy.”

Ever since that day hearing the Impala’s engine rumble towards the house became your favourite sound, even after the house was burnt to the ground and your Dad long gone before he could see you marry a Winchester or meet his granddaughter, the sound of Baby’s engine stuck with you.

-

Walking through the bunker it was quiet, too quiet. Picking Addison up you raised your finger to your lips, she nodded and buried her face in your shirt, ever since an early age you and Dean had taught her when she needed to be quiet, run, get help and scream all with little hand gestures.

You stopped walking when you saw Sam and Mary in the kitchen. “Y/N.” Sam smiled at you.

“What’s going on? Where’s Dean?” You asked as your hand cradled the back of your daughter’s head.

“He’s in the library with Da-” Sam cut himself off when he saw your brow crease.

“With who?”

“We’re having dinner tonight, all of us.” Mary quickly changed the subject.

“That will be nice, sorry I’m late Laura needed me to watch Libby and Max.”

“It’s fine, the boys were running late too.” She smiled at you as she pulled some more ingredients out of the fridge.

“Addy, do you want to stay here and cook with Uncle Sam and Grandma Mary? Or come and see Daddy?”

She pulled her head away from your chest to look up at you. “Daddy.”

Turning to leave Sam’s hand darted out stopping you. “You’re both safe, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t, just don’t freak out.” His hand let you go, you knew Sam would never put his niece in any form of danger, walking towards the library you could hear Dean’s voice.

“Dean, I never meant for this.” A familiar voice echoed down the hallway.

“Dad we pulled you here.”

“No son, my fight, it was supposed to end with me, with yellow eyes and now, you are a grown man and I am incredibly proud of you, I guess that I had hoped eventually you would get yourself a normal life, a peaceful life, a family.”

“I have a family.”

“I’m not talkin’ about Sam and your Mom.”

“Neither am I.” Dean smiled as he looked at the floor. “Dad I -”

Walking into the room you looked between Dean and a man you never thought you’d ever see again. John Winchester. “Dean, what the hell is going on?” You took a step away from them cradling your daughter’s head again.

“Hey, hey, no, it’s him, there was a pearl, it’s a long story but it’s him, no demon, no angel, no ghost, it’s really him.”

“How?” You looked from Dean towards John.

“Y/N, we can explain later, but I promise you it’s him.”

“Y/N? Y/N Singer?” John walked towards you.

“Not Singer anymore.” Dean’s arm wrapped around your waist.

A smile broke out across John’s face. “You married Bobby’s girl?”

“I did.” Dean gave your waist a small squeeze, his free hand resting on Addison’s back. “It’s okay sweetheart.” Your daughter looked up at Dean smiling up at him. “Dad this is my family, my wife Y/N and our daughter Addison Mary Winchester.”

“You have a family.” John smiled at you. “It’s so good to see you again sweetheart.”

“It’s good to see you again sir.” With a small nod you let Addison down to the floor. “Why don’t you go get washed up and we’ll all have dinner.”

“Okay.” She nodded before throwing herself at Dean’s legs. “Love you Daddy.”

“Love you too bug, go wash up.”

Watching her run down the hallway you turned to the Winchester men. “How the hell is this possible?”

“I promise I’ll explain everything later but for now we eat.” Dean’s hand took yours giving it a small squeeze.

It was like a dream, Dean’s family was all together he had everyone he loved most under one roof. You knew there was a time limit on this just from the way Dean and Sam looked at John, like he would disapear in the blink of an eye.

His hand held yours under the table, his thumb running back and forth across the back of your hand trying to keep himself grounded.

Addison bounded back into the library. “What’re we eatin’?” She asked pulling out the chair next to you and climbing onto it.

“Something I used to make your Dad and Uncle Sam when they were little.” Mary smiled at her Granddaughter.

“Is it good?” She asked Dean.

John was watching her with a smile on his face you could tell he already loved his granddaughter and saying goodbye to her was going to be just as hard as saying goodbye to his wife and sons.

“So good.” He chuckled as he stood up and walked towards his daughter and John, crouching next to them. “This is my Dad, John Winchester.”

“He’s my grandpa?” She asked with a smile.

“Yeah he is, he’s your grandpa.”

“I have a grandpa.” Her face lit up as she looked at John. “Like Libby does.”

“Yeah just like Libby.” Dean nodded.

Eating dinner together as a family you tried so hard to be present and enjoy this miracle, but you couldn’t ignore the pang in your chest when Addison looked at John with a smile on her face. You wanted nothing more than for your Dad to be here, for her to meet her other Grandfather, for her to look at him the way she was looking at John. Keeping a smile on your face you held Dean’s hand listening to the stories everyone told of a life they used to know.

“Hey Dad, do you want to read Addison a bedtime story tonight?” Dean asked his Father across the table.

“I’d love to Son.”

Addison reached up wrapping her arms around Dean’s neck as he pulled her into his arms. “C’mon princess.” You watched John follow Dean and Addison down the hallway.

“You good?” Sam asked as he sat down next to you.

“Yeah, are you?”

“I will be.” He wiped a tear from his cheek as he wrapped his arms around you. “I will be.”

Hugging him your palm patted his chest. “Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

-

Walking towards your room Dean was resting against the wall next to Addison’s room, the closer you got the louder you could hear John reading to his granddaughter. Dean looked up at you as soon as you were in arms reach he pulled you close to him, his chin resting on the top of your head as he held you close, your arms wrapping around his waist. “What do we do now? What do we tell her?”

Smiling up at him your palm cupped his cheek. “You, you’re going to say goodbye to your Dad, properly say goodbye.”

“Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” You asked as he wiped a tear from your cheek.

“I got my Dad back tonight, my real dad, you’ve been living with the apocalypse version of your Dad who never had you, you never got to really say goodbye.”

“Then you’ll say goodbye to your Dad properly, you tell him everything you feel when you see him, that you love him, that you hate him, whatever just get it all out and say goodbye.”

“What do we tell Addison?”

“That it was a dream and the best on she’ll ever have.”

“She’s out.” John smiled at you as he closed the door behind him. “You two, I knew there was something there but I never expected it to become this.” John glanced back at the closed door. “You two are raising her a hell of a lot better than I raised you boys, Y/N, Dean I am so happy you found each other, the way you used to look at each other when you were kids Bobby and I knew we had trouble on our hands but if he knew what you two have now, he’d be so proud of you.”

Pulling away from Dean you hugged John. “Keep yourself and Addison safe.”

“I will, goodbye John.”

“Goodbye Y/N.” Kissing your cheek he pulled away smiling at you as he walked towards the library.

“Go.” You nodded at Dean as he followed his Dad down the hallway.

Sitting down on your bed you tried not to think about what Dean was going through right now, saying goodbye to his Dad again knowing he was never going to see him again. When you heard a crack echo through the bunker your stomach dropped.

Dean walked into your room with tears running down his cheeks you sat up, he walked towards you sitting down next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist. “He’s gone.” Laying down you pulled him with you, resting his head on your chest your fingers ran through his hair. “She met her grandpa, well one of them, baby, I’m so sorry I couldn’t get them both here.”

“Don’t, don’t do that to yourself, she got to meet your Dad, Dean our daughter got to meet one of her grandpas and I think that’s something to cherish.”

-

“Mommy, Daddy!” The door to your bedroom flew open as your daughter ran in jumping on your bed. “I had a dream about Grandpa John last night.”

“You did?” Dean asked with a smile as he pulled her closer towards you both. “Why don’t you tell us all about it…”

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[serious-writers-block]

Vessel - Chapter 30

Summary: Sam and Dean thought their lives were a living hell. When they find a young girl who shares their name and family business, neither of them can help but be curious about who she is and what she can do for them.

A/N: For some reason, any time I put links in my posts the post doesn’t show up in the tags. So for now, click on my profile and you’ll see a link to my masterlist where you can find links to all my fics as well as the masterlist for Vessel. 

When they returned to the bunker, the Winchester siblings immediately jumped into research mode. They spend the better part of a week digging through the same books over and over again. The eldest retreated to his ‘Dean cave’ hoping a little rest and relaxation would do him good. The younger two sat in the library, Sam at the table with his laptop and Mary laying on top of the table holding their father’s original journal.

 “Do you keep a journal?” she suddenly asked, still engrossed in her father’s writing. Even though John had given her a copy of everything he’d ever written, MJ still loved reading the original thing. The same handwriting and drawings she’d pored over as a child never failed to fascinate her. 

Sam cleared his throat, “not really. I never had the time.” He didn’t even look up from his computer.

 “Did Dean?”

 This time he looked at her, “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him. Why?”

 Though she was still laying on her back, she shrugged her shoulders, “just curious to know what you two have done.”

 “You could just ask.”

 MJ looked at her brother with eyebrows raised, “neither of you ever want to talk about what you’ve been through. I can’t imagine you’d tell me straight up even if I did ask.”

 He sighed, “that’s probably true.” She went back to reading the journal while Sam thought about their lives before meeting Mary. There were countless things she didn’t know and countless things they would likely never tell her themselves, “you know, if you’re really curious, Chuck published our stories under a pen name.”

 “Really?” she looked surprised, “God wrote books about you?”

 “We saved the world,” Sam admitted, “a couple of times actually.”

 She sat up excitedly, “do we have copies of them here?”

 He coughed out a laugh, “god no. Dean wants every copy of the Supernatural books burned.” MJ slouched dejectedly.

 “Edmund,” Dean nodded at Sam, entering the library, “Lucy,” he looked to Mary.

 “Was that-”

 “Did you just reference the Chronicles of Narnia?” Sam turned his attention to his brother.

 “Wait, you think you’re Peter?” MJ asked, putting more thought into the analogy than both of her brothers combined, “Does that make Cas Susan or Mr. Tumnus?” She dropped the conversation when she felt her phone vibrate. She retrieved her cell phone while ignoring her brothers’ conversation.

 “MJ?” Dean stopped mid-sentence when he saw his sister smiling down at her phone. When she didn’t respond he tried again, “MJ?”

 She looked up at him, “what?”

 “What’s got you all smiley?” Sam asked.

 “Is it Stephen?”

 “What?” she looked between the two of them, “No. Dude, no, it’s Claire. She wants to know if I want to work a case with her.”

 “Just you?” Dean eyed her suspiciously.

 “Students are going missing from an all-girls school in Ohio. No offense, but you two can’t exactly pass for 17-year-old girls.”

 “Wait a minute is…” Dean ignored what she said about the case, “is that why you turned Stephen down?”

 “What?” MJ looked confused, “No, that- that has nothing to do with this. Seriously, Dean? Why are you so hung up on that?”

 “Guys,” Sam interrupted his siblings, tired of the reoccurring discussion, “Mary, what’s the hunt?”

 She looked back at her phone, “Cincinnati, Ohio. Several girls were found dead in their locked dormitories, no sign of break in.”

 “That it?”

 “Their brains were liquid.”

 “But they were still there?” Dean asked

 “Barely, but yeah,” Mary continued reading from the message, “Claire’s not exactly sure what it is.”

 “All the more reason for us to come.”

 “De-”

 “You’re speaking in tongues, have magic dragon killing abilities, and you’re being hunted by everything that knows you exist. We’re coming.” Mary only sighed and shook her head as she trudged back to her room to pack.

~~~

“I thought I escaped high school,” Claire grumbled as she, Mary, and Dean approached the school.

 “If you thought regular high school was hell,” MJ muttered, “wait till you see Catholic school.” Dean glanced at his little sister; her comment was another reminder of how little he knew about her life before they met.

 The trio were visiting the school as a father and his two daughters that were hoping to attend the school while Sam stayed back at the motel to dig through the lore. Though he wasn’t thrilled with being left out of the early stages of the case, staying out of sight made it easier for Sam to play the FBI agent later.

 “Stephanie will show your girls around while we chat about what you can expect from the school and what we expect rom you,” the headmistress told Dean when Claire and Mary were greeted by a teenage girl wearing a plaid skirt and a matching cardigan sweater.

 The hunters parted ways to play their roles and continue investigating.

 “Don’t mind Sister Legs Shut,” the girl, Stephanie, said once they were out of ear shot, “this place is way easier than she makes it out to be.”

 Claire seemed confused, “she’s a nun?”

 “Nah, that’s just what we call her. She’s got a major stick up her ass,” she explained. Mary couldn’t help but roll her eyes, knowing what living under a nun’s nose was really like.

 “So,” Claire attempted to bring up the subject casually, “what happened to those girls earlier this month?”

 “Cops are saying they had aneurisms or something.”

 “You believe them?” MJ asked, playing her part.

 “Why wouldn’t I?”

 “Did you know the girls?” Claire continued

 Stephanie shook her head, “not really, they were nobodies.”

 Mary was distracted by the passing bulletin boards and school displays, detailing the holy sacraments and parables she’d grown up hearing. She was so engrossed in reading the signs she failed to notice the priest who stepped right in her path.

 “Shit, sorry,” she muttered when she collided with him.

 “Sorry, Father,” Stephanie stepped in, seeing who MJ rammed into, “she wasn’t watching where she was going.”

 “That’s alright, Ms. Martin,” the man smiled, he looked at the young Winchester for a moment before it occurred to him that he’d seen her before, “Mary?”

 MJ was frozen still, looking up at the man with wide eyes. Claire stepped between the priest and her friend, “you must be mistaken. This is my sister, Alex,” it was obvious to the young hunter that Mary recognized the man, but her inability to respond worried Claire.

 “Sorry, Fr. Lucas,” Stephanie interjected again, “we’ll get out of your way.” She dragged the two hunters away before the priest could say anything else. “A word of advice, Fr. Lucas is kind of a dick, I’d stay away from him if I were you.”

 “Why?” Claire asked, eyeing MJ.

 “You know men,” she rolled her eyes, “anyway, I have to get to class, but if you wait here, Annie said she’d finish giving you the tour once she’s finished with her class.”

 Once the student was out of earshot and it was just the hunters, Claire turned to Mary with a concerned look, “hey, you okay?”

 MJ cleared her throat, “aces.”

 “What- what was that? Did you know Fr. Lucas?”

 “He uh, he was stationed in Peoria about six years ago,” she began, “he just surprised me is all.” Before either could say anymore on the subject, a different girl dressed in the same plaid skirt and matching cardigan approached the pair.

 “Hi, I’m Annie,” she said with a smile, “Stephanie had to go, so I’m going to finish giving you your tour. Do you have any questions thus far?”

 “Those are the dorms over there, right?” Claire asked, taking up the lead once again.

 Annie’s smile never faltered, “they are.”

 “So that’s where the bodies were found?”

 The student paused, “The headmistress doesn’t want us talking about that on the tour, but yeah…” There was a sad undertone to Annie’s voice, unlike the emotionless quality of Stephanie’s.

 It was Mary’s turn to talk, “did you know them?”

 “Everyone knew them,” she offered a sad, regretful smile, “everyone loved them.”

 “Girls,” suddenly the headmistress stepped in the path of the three young women, “are you quite finished with the tour?”

 “Yes, headmistress,” Annie said, not looking the woman in the eye.

 “Good. I’ll take you girls to your father, Ms. Donlan, you may return to class.” Annie only nodded in obedience before leaving Claire and Mary with the authoritative woman. None of them spoke as the headmistress walked them back to the office where Dean waited. He had been speaking to the secretary when they arrived, but the woman quickly dropped the conversation upon seeing her boss.

 “Thank you,” Dean said to the headmistress once she returned with Claire and Mary, “you’ve certainly given us a lot to think about.”

 “Certainly,” she said with a nod. “Good day.” Before anything else could be said, her office door was shut and the hunters were left looking at each other in confusion. They wordlessly agreed to leave the ever weirder school and discuss all they had found at the motel with Sam. 

~~

“I think it’s the headmistress. She’s got a major stick up her ass,” Dean decided. He was sitting across from his brother at the small table inside their motel room. Claire and Mary sat together on one of the beds, Claire on her laptop while Mary was spread out on her back staring at the ceiling.

 Claire shook her head, “I think it’s Fr. Lucas. The girl giving the tour told us to stay away from him and-”

 Mary interrupted her before she could finish her sentence, knowing exactly what was coming, “it’s not Fr. Lucas.”

 “But you-”

 “No, Claire,” she shot her down again, “I know it’s not him.”

 Sam cleared his throat, “how do you know? We don’t even know what did this yet.”

 The youngest Winchester hesitated as she looked at her brothers. With a sigh, she decided to tell them, “Fr. Lucas was stationed in Peoria when I was little.”

 “What?”

 “He’s harmless, at least in the teenage girl killing sense, he’s just a bit of a creep.”

 “You were scared shitless when you saw him.” This made Dean see red, the things the demon had said about the priests in Peoria still fresh in his mind.

 “I wasn’t,” MJ started to defend herself but struggled with the right words to say, “he caught me off guard, that’s all. I was little when he left Peoria, but I had always heard it was because he left the priesthood.”

 “Left the priesthood? Why?” Sam asked. Dean was still angrily watching the exchange.

 Mary shrugged, “lots of people said it was because he was gay, but obviously Father would never have confirmed that. I just didn’t expect to see him working at an all-girls school in Ohio, that’s all.”

 The conversation lulled, prompting Dean to interject, “so if it’s not the headmistress and it’s not the gay priest, who do you think it is?”

 MJ looked at her oldest brother, “Stephanie. When we asked her about the girls, she said they were nobodies, said she didn’t even know them, but when we asked Annie about them, she told us the girls were loved by everyone.”

 “You think that’s enough to go on?” Sam questioned.

 “I know strict Catholic school principals and I know creepy priests,” she started, “neither of them are out of the ordinary.”

 “Guys,” Sam interrupted them as he turned the volume up on their police radio.

 “Another body?” Dean asked.

 “Yeah,” Sam quickly stood, grabbing his FBI badge and phone from the table, “I’m gonna go see if I can get to the scene before they move it.”

 Dean stood to join him, “you two stay here, we’ll be back.”

 Once the boys were gone, MJ turned to Claire, “why would you tell them that?”

 “What?”

 “That the priest scared me. You know they already think I’m lying about the stuff at the foster home.”

 Claire interrupted her, “are you?”

 “No!” she insisted, “seriously, you’re just going to freak them out more. There’s nothing wrong with that priest and there’s nothing wrong with me.”

 The older hunter sighed, “Mary-”

 “No. I’m so friggin’ tired of people looking at me like I’m some kind of damaged goods and like I could fall apart at any moment.”

 After a moment of silence, Claire cautiously began, “I spent a fair amount of time bouncing around foster homes and group homes after my mom disappeared. Honestly, I’d be more surprised if you told me all your foster parents were great. Your brothers and Jody, they don’t know what it’s like. They try to understand, but they’ll never really know. I have a feeling Dean reacts the way he does because he thinks it’s his fault that you were there. I don’t think- honestly, I know you’re not fragile or damaged. It takes a lot of strength to survive a life like yours.”

 “Whatever, Claire,” MJ stood from the bed and approached the small table, beside which sat the cooler the brothers kept stocked with beer. She pulled two out and popped them open with the ring on her right hand, a trick her brother had taught her, “here.”

 “They won’t care?” Claire asked, accepting the drink.

 Mary shrugged, “not like we’re going anywhere.”

~~~~~

“Any EMF? Sulfur?” Dean asked when his brother returned to the room where the body was found. Sam shook his head. “So, not a ghost, not a demon, and not the closeted priest.” The man Claire and Mary had seen only a few hours before was sprawled out on the floor in front of them, his brains liquified. They gave one another a look before each taking a side of the room to scan for clues.

 “Dude,” Sam groaned, pulling out a hex bag and holding it up for Dean to see.

 “Dammit,” Dean cursed, “why’s it always gotta be witches?” he pulled his gun from his waistband and checked the bullets. They weren’t witch killing, but at least they’d slow it down.

 “You boys almost done here?” a voice came from the doorway. With the police officer stood the headmistress dressed in a nightgown and robe.

 “Mr. Wilson?” the woman recognized Dean from earlier in the day, “you’re FBI?”

 His eyes looked her over, “yeah. It’s uh, it’s why I want the girls to go to a nice, safe boarding school.”

 “This isn’t typical,” she nervously assured him.

 “Did Padre here have any enemies? Anyone that would want to hurt him?”

 She shook her head, “no. Everyone loved Fr. Lucas.” Dean gave Sam a look, remembering what the girls had said about the priest, “I assure you, Agent Wilson, your girls will be perfectly safe here.”

 “Well, I’d like to take a look around,” he decided, “be absolutely sure.” While Dean proceeded to explore the school, Sam ran to the Impala to retrieve the witch hunting bullets.

 Back at the motel, Mary and Claire had each finished several beers and were spread out on one of the beds. They wore bright smiles and giggled as they told stories, or rather as Claire told stories about college and hunting. MJ felt like she had very little to add.

 “Come on,” Claire taunted her, “you hunted by yourself for weeks. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t hook up with anyone? You didn’t have any wild nights?”

 MJ couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “why does everyone assume I ran off to hunt with some guy?”

 “I didn’t say you went to hunt with a guy, I just don’t get how you didn’t take advantage of being out on your own. I mean, if I didn’t have to share a hotel room with Jody I-”

 “Claire,” she interrupted her, “Claire, I – I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve never been that interested in anyone. I mean, I’ve never even been on a date, much less-”

 “Well, yeah, I haven’t really been on a normal date either but that doesn’t mean I can’t get laid.”

 Mary snorted out a laugh, “Again, I lived with a priest and a nun. Why does everyone keep forgetting that? Even if I didn’t, Catholics don’t really give you any leeway on the whole premarital sex leads to burning in hell thing.”

 “It’s kind of ironic,” she hiccupped, “that you were raised Catholic and now God is telling you that you’re his vessel. I bet no religion class could’ve prepared you for that one.”

 “Oh my god,” Mary shot up from the bed, “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been trying to figure out why in the hell I have ‘powers’ when I haven’t said yes yet.”

 “Okay…?”

 “When we were at the school there was a bulletin board for each of the seven sacraments. One of them was for Confirmation.”

 “And?”

 Mary explained her theory while talking at a mile a minute, “Confirmation is when you receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit. You accept the power of the Holy Spirit and fully enter the Church.” Claire still looked confused. “I was Confirmed five years ago, Claire.”

 “Meaning you already accepted,” she finally understood. MJ nodded at her friend. “Does that mean it can possess you at any time?”

 The Winchester shrugged, “I mean, technically I accepted the gifts of the Holy Spirit, I never said I would let it use me as a vessel. I’m not sure what the rules are on all this, but it explains the speaking in tongues and the fortitude during torture.”

 The conversation was interrupted when the older two Winchesters strolled into the motel room. “Congrats, MJ,” Dean said, pulling a $20 bill from his pocket and handing it to his sister, “you were right, it was Stephanie.” The two regularly made small bets during hunts to keep things interesting and though he hated to admit it, Mary usually won. Before he could explain how she had killed the vics, he stopped and saw the empty beer bottles scattering the room. “Dude.”

 “Dean,” she started to defend herself before Dean yanked the money back from her as if to say it was payment for drinking his beer. “Yeah, okay, I guess I deserve that.”

 “Guys,” Claire tried to interject.

 “I thought I told you no drinking,” Dean reprimanded.

 MJ cocked her head to the side, “actually, you said no bars.”

 “Dean,” Claire tried again more forcefully.

 “What?” he finally turned to her.

 “She figured it out.”

 It was Sam’s turn to join the conversation, “figured what out?”

 “How I have powers when I haven’t said yes,” their sister explained, “I received the gifts of the Holy Spirit at Confirmation.”

 “Confirmation?”

 “Yeah, it’s one of the sacraments. It’s how you become an adult in the Church. I was 13 when I was Confirmed but I guess the gifts are just now fully kicking in.”

 Sam shrugged, “or they’re just more noticeable now.”

 “So, what, you already consented to being a vessel?” Dean asked, “you were just a kid, isn’t that like statutory possession or something?”

 “That’s the thing, I don’t think I consented to being the vessel, I just consented to receiving the Spirit’s gifts. They only kick in when I need them, like when I’m being tortured or a dragon is attacking me-”

 “Or when you need to communicate with someone who speaks a different language,” Sam interrupted. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

 “Probably because you weren’t raised Catholic and your knowledge of the church and its teachings are introductory at best,” MJ said smartly. She was snarky when she drank.

 “I’ve literally met God,” Sam defended himself. Mary only shrugged in response as she fell back onto the bed.

 “Kid,” Dean looked at the number of bottles strewn about the room, “how much did you drink?” MJ looked at Claire and then at the cooler. Before she could answer him, Dean went to the cooler and found it empty. “Seriously?”

 She laughed a little as she looked at Claire, “maybe don’t bench us next time. What were we supposed to do?” The brothers shook their heads at the two teenage girls. Though they knew it was their responsibility to reprimand their behavior, neither could hide their amusement at the situation.

 As Sam started to clean the room up, tossing the bottles and cans into the wastebasket while the girls chatted on the bed, Dean’s phone suddenly rang. He looked at the caller I.D. before quickly picking it up.

 “Sonny?” he asked into the phone. The last time he’d heard from the man it was because of a vengeful spirit at the boys’ home in New York. It wasn’t like him to call just to catch up. Sam turned to his brother when he heard the name. “Yeah, we can swing by and check it out. We’re just a day or so away… yeah… okay, see you soon.”

 When Dean hung up the phone Sam asked his brother, “everything okay?”

 “That was Sonny, said he might have a case for us.” Dean turned to where his sister sat with Claire. “They’ve gotta sleep this off before we can do anything, so we can head his way in the morning.” The boys agreed to get a good nights sleep before parting ways with the Novak girl and going to see Sonny.

[nerdylittleshit]

Thoughts about Spn 14x13 AKA EPISODE 300!!!!!

SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!

I HAVE A LOT OF EMOTIONS! This episode was really something truly special. Admittedly I’m not the biggest fan of John Winchester and I wasn’t looking forward to his return. But man, I really loved how they pulled this of. It was really close to perfect. It was a big character piece and very  self-referential. But whereas the 200th episode (“Fan Fiktion”) was a love letter to the show and the fans, this felt like a closing chapter, going back to the start, letting go and finding closure. And of course the show ain’t over yet, but it addressed by now its two original wounds, Mary’s death and John’s absence, to let Sam and Dean truthfully move forward. It answered some question and shed a light on a few unanswered questions as well. And I feel by now the show has come full circle in so many ways, so when it eventually will end, and they give us episodes like this, it will be a great end.

But, as always, let’s take a closer look.

Lebanon

Despite the fact that the Winchesters live in Lebanon since season 8 we haven’t really seen much of the city. I wish we would have seen an entire episode from the town’s perspective, but I’m glad with what we saw here so far. The Winchesters, whose family business is to track down Urban Legends have become a Urban Legend in their town by now. We see them interact with the people in town, they are familiar, and this warms my heart. Because again it brings us back to the original concept of the show, a road movie every week. And while this element is still present they also have a home now, a place they can return to, people who know them.

I also love that they go by the name Campbell in town, Mary’s maiden name. Of course the Winchester brothers are officially dead (more than one time), but it also connects them more with Mary. The show started with them known as John’s sons, but they are their own men now (more about this later), and they also acknowledge Mary’s side of the family through that.

The three teenagers can be interpreted as tem free will mirrors, with Max, the girl who loves plaid and classic cars, as a Dean mirror who falls for a brunette. Make of that what you will.

I love that the little case of the week included John Wayne Gacy, representing both Sam’s worst fear (clowns) and his special interest (serial killers). Just like Dean gets his biggest wish granted but there is a downside to it as well.

I also love that we learn that to heaven Lebanon is ‘muddy’, that there is some sort of interference, probably because of all the warding in the bunker.

Finally, the title of the episode doesn’t seem to make much sense at first. Of course the episode takes place in Lebanon (but so did many others) and we get to see more of the town and its inhabitants and how Dean’s wish affects them. But this episode is about family at its core (just like the show is). The family is the centre of every home, of Dean’s heart, just as Lebanon is the geographical centre of the US.  

What your heart desires

Of course the plot of this episode is a bit constructed. All of sudden Dean gets a magical pearl that grants him his biggest wish, what his heart desires. But it doesn’t really matter how we get there, but more what it tells us about Dean and what happens next. For one we see that what Dean thinks is his biggest wish is different from what his heart truly desires. We are the most unreliable narrators of our own stories. Second, as typical for this trope, be careful what you wish for. Sam knows this, so his immediate reaction is to think about the consequences of their actions. Because they learned the hard way that nothing in life is for free and you always have to pay the prize.

So, let’s take a look at what actually happens. Den wishes for his father and they summon John from the year 2003. Therefore dad goes missing two years earlier than in their original timeline (and will likely never return). As a consequence Sam and Dean are not reunited; Dean still hunts whereas Sam becomes a TED-Talk giving whatever. Sam never dies, Dean never makes a deal and goes to hell, Cas never rescues him and remains a loyal servant of heaven. The apocalypse never starts. Mary never returns.

We can debate how much of that would have actually happen like that. My biggest complaint is probably Sam. I just don’t see him becoming this person who totally distances himself from the entire concept of family. I mean he still would have met Jess, fall in love with her, propose to her. And it is still possible Yellow Eyes ordered to kill her to get Sam back in the life, to prepare him to become Lucifer’s vessel. Did Jess still die but Dean wasn’t around so instead of hunting Sam dedicated his life to his new career?

And is it possible Zachariah, just as the Winchesters, still remembered the original timeline? He says to Cas “You wouldn’t [understand that reference”, implying the original Cas would have. He notices the interference of time and says Sam and Dean were supposed to play a role in the apocalypse. Either way, by now Sam, Dean and Jack have killed all a version of Zachariah (Dean the original one, Sam this new one and Jack the one in the AU). It’s a family thing.

And even though they killed Zachariah they don’t kill Cas, despite this new Cas trying to kill Cas, because I don’t think they could have. In the end though it is not (or not entirely) the change in Cas that makes them realize that John has to return to his timeline, but the prospect that with John staying Mary will fade away. John choose her life over his own, saying it is no real choice. I do wonder if this is foretelling in some way, that one character will choose another one’s life over their own, perhaps even in a romantic context.

The first conversation we see is that between Sam and his father. It seemed to me that Sam didn’t really wanted to be alone with his father (he immediately asked where Mary is) and that he was unsure what to do and what to say. Sam and John parted with so many things unspoken, with a huge fight shortly before John died, and Sam blamed himself for not making things right. What I loved is that John is aware that he messed things up, that he wasn’t the best father, and that he apologizes. It means a lot. But it is also interesting to see Sam’s reaction: he forgives his father, and in doing so he forgives himself. Sam truly lets go of the past, of his complicated relationship with his father, of the guilt he felt regarding his father’s death. Sam forgiving John wasn’t just for giving John peace, but to give himself peace as well. Forgiveness isn’t about whether someone deserves our forgiveness or not; it is about our own ability to let go, to find peace, to heal.

Interesting despite the fact that it was Dean’s wish I thought Sam needed this sort of closure much more, more than he even realized. Dean seems more confident facing his father, like he already made his peace and needed this final conversation to close this chapter of his life. John tells Dean that he was proud of him. Back in 1x22 it was because John told him the exact same thing that Dean got suspicious and realized that his father was possessed. Dean needed to hear this (I needed to her this because this scene always makes me very emotional for personal reasons). John also says that he had wished for his son to get a normal life, once their mission of killing Yellow Eyes was completed. This is surprising as John throw out Sam for wanting to live a normal life. And it brings us back to a very old theme of the show: Dean vs the apple pie life.For as much Dean denied in earlier seasons to want a normal life we this is not true, but neither the hunting life or the normal apple pie life with Lisa and Ben had made him completely happy. Now though he has the best of both worlds: he still hunts, he still does in his eyes do something meaningful, but he also has a home, has a family, and he tells his father exactly this. It might not be a family in the traditional sense (that we then see at the family dinner) but it is a family all the same. However it made sense to me that neither Cas or Jack were present for the family diner, as this episode was so much about going back to the beginning, so it was about the core family that started this show.

In a later conversation with Sam we see how much Dean has grown, how mature he acts. Even though the idea of sending their father back with the full knowledge of what will happen (giving him peace but also risking he will change the past) is tempting, Dean doesn’t really think about it. He knows that if it wasn’t for them some other people might had to save the world, might have been given their burden. He acknowledges that his life has been hard, has been painful, that both his parents are partly to blame for it. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. Because his life made him who he is, his choices made him who he is, and that is the Dean he is at peace with, the Dean he wants to be, the one who sacrificed so much because he couldn’t live with himself if he wouldn’t. Dean acknowledges that their lives are theirs, that they are their own man now, writing their own stories. In a show that deals so much with losses of agency, with the concept of fate vs free will (especially again in this season), this means a lot.

When the time arrives to say goodbye John once again tells his sons that he is proud of them, and that he loves them. Dean returns the “I love you”. After Mary and Sam this is the third time he tells someone he loves them, and it leaves some space because there is yet one person left that he hasn’t told yet he loves him (I’m talking about Cas of course). And while, as I explained, it made sense that Cas wasn’t around for the family diner, it also made sense he was there at the end. Because he is part of Dean’s family, and mirrors what John was to Mary (also, any bets on what John and Mary did in their alone time when Sam and Dean were out grocery shopping?).

John won’t remember what he learned about the future, though it would have given him some peace to see what would become of his sons and that Mary would return to life. It is nice though that at least he remembers some things as a dream, which made gave him shortly some comfort. But in the end this wasn’t so much about John, but about Sam and Dean. It is different than Mary’s return. It plays with the idea to have one final conversation with a loved one you lost, to find a chance to say goodbye, to find some peace and closure with it. To let them know that you are ok after all, to look back at your own life and find peace with who you are.

So much about this episode was going back to the start, to show how they have come, how they changed. Much of it felt like an ending. Episodes like this make me positive than when this show will eventually end they will do it in a satisfying way. They know their characters and their stories so well by now, that so much about the last seasons doesn’t feel like stretching the story out but rather coming full circle. The show is becoming its own epos.

And finally huge respect for all the acting this episode, but especially Jared and Jensen’s performances, who brought me to tears. To everyone who works on this show, before or behind the camera, who gives their best every week: thank you.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Drop the Act (Dean/Cas, Sam-centric fic, Post-Canon, 3.5k)

After defeating the Empty, Sam thought all the surprises were done for. Cas was saved, was human, and the Winchesters were a complete family unit doing what they do best: hunting monsters and saving people. He didn't account for his brother and angel best friend to manage one final surprise after coming back from a routine hunt in Florida.

But that's what happens when you don't see what's been happening right in front of you for a year.

(Love to my #SPNFamily)

(Link to ao3)

           Sam enjoyed the Bunker these past two weeks while Dean and Cas were away. It was a vacation filled with dusty archives and suspenseful podcasts, eating when he wanted to and not having to put his research away while he did it.

           There were a few interruptions, like phone calls from his mom checking in. Making sure Sam didn’t neglect basic care for translating more texts. He was offended when Mary suggested he take a night off and step out from the underground. So Sam wouldn’t become, in her words, a ‘hermit’.

           His entire time alone wasn’t spent holed away from the world; Sam jogged in the early mornings – when he remembered to sleep at a normal time. And every other day he’d set aside a half-hour for yoga among the trees. Mary still wasn’t satisfied at that, remarking how little he interacted with others in his downtime. Rolling his eyes, Sam told her he hadn’t any need. The kitchen was well stocked before Dean left, and unlike his brother Sam learned how to control his portions.

           Sam wasn’t avoiding people; he found no need to seek others out. But when they came, he didn’t turn them away. Even with Dean and Cas out, Jack stayed with him. He, too, was uninvited from the hunt. They left each other alone for the most part, both busy with their own things. If he saw Jack, though, he wouldn’t ignore him. Sam invited his angelic son along with him the other day when he took interest with his yoga mat. Jack didn’t get farther than the warrior pose, but he had fun with it.

           So Sam had no problem being around people. He just appreciated his alone time, especially after a rough couple of months. Drowning in back-to-back hunts, he needed to lock himself down and recharge his batteries. Dean and Cas finding their own hunt, one he wasn’t asked to go on, was a sign. The peace and quiet lifted Sam’s spirits. He wasn’t bombarded with loud music, the clatter of pots and pans, distracting chatter and loud, suspicious noises at strange times. Wherever those two went, a commotion was hanging overhead like heavy, dark clouds.

           When he heard the slam of the Bunker door though, he knew his serenity was shattered. He shut his book with a sigh, glancing up as Dean and Cas descended the staircase with suitcases in hand.

           The hunt was in Florida, closer to Miami than Orlando. Now back in Kansas, they still looked ready for the beach. Dean wore a calm t-shirt of a muted grey color, a complete opposite to Cas’s loud rainbow colored Hawaiian shirt. They both also had on board shorts and flip-flops. Sunglasses were loss in the bird’s nest of Cas’s dark hair while Dean’s was hidden by his backwards cap. The entire walk down the stairs, the two bickered with relaxed grins stretched across their tan faces. Cas’s skin was even more bronzed than usual, while Dean’s body shone with star-like freckles.

           Even after a year, Sam found Cas a strange sight when out of his holy tax accountant armor. Picking out a wardrobe was one of the many things Dean taught Cas after becoming human. He didn’t mind, sticking by their friend’s side through it all. He forgot much of what he already learned for his first stint, and the process the second time around was anything but easy. Dean’s resolve never wavered, helping Cas develop his routines and explore his tastes. “What I should have done the first time around,” Dean said.

           “Hey guys,” Sam waved at them, “Didn’t know you were coming back so soon.”

           Dean nodded, dropping his stuff at the head of the table. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. We kinda lost track of time and forgot to call…”

           “To be fair,” Cas said laying his own luggage beside Dean’s, “I assumed Dean had already done so before we left the motel.”

           He rolled his eyes. “When could I have? I wasn’t out of your sight that entire morning.” Dean sat, continuing. “Besides, I thought I told you to text Sam when we stopped for the night in Illinois?”

           “That’s your fault,” Cas told him, taking the chair to Dean’s left for himself. “My thumb hit the wrong button because of somebody –“

           “Oh like that was a problem for you,” Dean cut him off, beaming. Cas matched it in intensity, their smiles glowing with radiant bliss.

           Sam cleared his throat, dragging their attention to him before the pull between them was too strong. “I’m glad you’re both home,” he said, glancing between the two, “the Bunker hasn’t been the same since you left…”

           Dean nudged Cas, chuckling. “That’s moose-talk for he wanted a few more days without us.”

           Glaring, Sam decided to not snag the bait. Instead, he asked them to share how the hunt went. They were tightlipped with the details over the phone, really only connecting with him through text. Sam’s digitization made accessing the Bunker’s resources much easier, but also took away any help he could offer.

           They told the story in halves, both of them interrupting the other at the oddest times with little facts and quips. It was hard to follow along at times, but Sam understood the gist of it.

           A shifter was targeting couples involved with a retreat program built to counsel married couples through communication problems. Sam snuck in a quick jab, wondering that if this hunt happened maybe years earlier things would have been different.

           “Yuck it up,” Dean scoffs, “But some of that shit was actually helpful… if you wanted to be some kind of new age freak in touch with your emotions.”

           “Anyway,” Cas course corrected, knocking shoulders with Dean, “we managed to sign up before the next session began so we could investigate.”

           “Turns out Cas asks questions better when he’s out of the Fed suit.”

           Sam stifles back a chuckle after Cas smacks Dean on the shoulder with a soft thwack. “At least I was asking questions. Half the time you were either on the beach or by the pool –“

           “It sucked enough that there was a shifter there, I was trying to make the most of our trip.”

           “We still managed to enjoy ourselves, after taking care of the monster…”

           Dean sighed, scratching at his neck. “Yeah that’s true.”

           Sam looked between the two, brow raised. “So, how did you take care of it?”

           The hunt barely lasted longer than three days, the extended time because Dean and Cas had trouble testing the staff with silver. Dean pouted, “Seriously, using the rings was a good start until you get called in to a session with a therapist about commitment and cheating.” He waggled his fingers, flashing the silver band towards him. Sam spied Cas’s hand resting on the table, wearing a similar ring.

           Cas smiled at Dean, eyes shining with warmth. “Although I did enjoy your very passionate defense when she assumed you took our marriage as seriously as a… what did she say? ‘Like a teen does his curfew’?”

           “She was bonkers,” Dean growled, “Just wanted to separate us, get us out of the way. Figured… since she was the shifter.”

           “She was?” Sam asked, “Did you gank her right then?”

           “We didn’t realize until later,” he said, “Much later.”

           Dean and Cas got into an argument after the meeting with the therapist. He was hurt and blowing off steam, and by doing that drew unwanted attention their way. “It didn’t matter what she or any of them thought,” Cas told them, “We were there for one thing –“

           “I didn’t take that well either,” Dean admitted, sheepishly darting his eyes back and forth between Cas and the table. “Stormed off to be alone for awhile… mainly sat by the surf and watched it tickle my toes.”

           “While I involved myself in the activities,” Cas said, “Until Dean came to apologize.”

           Sam eyes his friend, “That… sounds ominous.”

           Dean chuckled, “That’s because it wasn’t me.”

           The shifter decided to corner Cas on his way to the pottery lesson, dragging him away to a hidden alcove. Fake Dean took every measure to appear reticent, and quoted a lot of their history back at Cas. He shrugged at Sam. “She did her research.” Cas was ready to forgive Dean, waiting for him to take the first step. It was only when she suggested they seal their argument with some make-up sex did Cas figure out it wasn’t Dean.

           Sam rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first time a monster read more into his brother’s relationship with their friend. And for once it played to their benefit. He shot off a quick prayer that Dean got used to those types of digs. Before, he would scowl for days and butch it up. Now any mention brought out a wry chuckle and a soft look. Sam couldn’t imagine his brother would have been okay faking a relationship with another man a decade ago. He’s really grown, becoming comfortable with his sexuality.

           “I stabbed her in the heart when she tried unbuttoning my pants,” Cas said.

           Dean leaned into him and smirked. “And that’s when I found them.”

           Sam spluttered. “You did?”

           “Oh yeah, was walking, working up the courage to see Cas and… let’s just say it didn’t make me feel better stumbling on that.”

           “You knew what it was, though,” Cas comforted him, hand disappearing under the table, “All the times I said I wanted to kill you meant nothing in that moment.”

           “Oh yeah that moment…”

           Sam watched them slip into another one of their moods. Where Dean stared at Cas, and vice versa. Nothing could pierce the veil created when both men communicated with only their eyes. When they started these, Sam felt left out. He wanted that closeness, where someone could know what he was feeling with a single glance. Through the years he got over it, though. What Dean and Cas shared couldn’t be replicated. Now all he felt was a fond annoyance. In the early years, he could count these special interactions with both hands. But then that number grew exponentially. After they got Cas back from the Empty, it rocketed near infinity. Sam knew why.

           Dean and Cas were best friends, the former angel an official Winchester brother. Losing him after Lucifer stabbed him was like cutting off a limb. The Empty, two limbs. In the ceremony freeing Cas from that void, Dean vowed to never let any power come between them. His conviction, a powerful magic in itself, forced the Empty into slumber. Not before it shrouded the two as the final words were spoken. They broke the curse hanging over them, and all it cost was Cas’s grace.

           “I don’t need it, not anymore,” he said, once they settled back in the Bunker, “Not when I have my family.”

           Sam cleared his throat, breaking their intense focus. Back for less than an hour, and he had his fill of them. He asked what happened for the rest of the hunt. “You wrapped it up so quickly… but you were there longer?”

           “Dude, we were in Florida,” Dean said, “Vacation.”

           “Seriously?”

           “Hell yeah,” his brother grinned, teeth sharp and white. “Do you know there are nude beaches in Florida –“

           “Gross, I don’t want to hear it –“

           “It’s just the human body, Sam.”

           “Whatever.”

           Dean turned to Cas. “I think he’s gotten his fill of us already.”

           “Then we might as well unpack,” Cas sighed, standing, “I’m feeling kind of ripe.” As he stood, Dean did as well; the reason being their joined hands, as Sam noticed. He gaped at them, unnoticed. “I’d kill for a shower right now.”

           “Well I hope not me,” Dean joked, leading them away.

           Before they could get too far, Sam found his voice. “Guys?” he yelped, voice cracking near the end. Dean and Cas glanced back, free hands hovering over their bags. “What are you… what’s going on?”

           “We’re heading to our room, Sam,” Dean said, “What else does it look like?” Whispering to Cas, he talked from the corner of his mouth. “Someone had his nose in the books too long…”

           “Our room?” Sam parroted, “What are…” In an instant his face shifted, smoothing out into a familiar expression. He set the tired lines of his bitch face to radiate the most annoyance with his brother’s actions. “Okay, I get it. Ha ha… good one.”

           “Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out,” Dean stepped closer worryingly, “Talk to me Sammy. Tell me what’s the matter.”

           “That shifter sure got you wrong,” Sam muttered, returning to his book, “You sure seem committed to this bit.”

           “What ‘bit’?”

           “Seriously, Dean, the case is over. You and Cas can drop the married act now.” He wanted to finish the chapter. It’s difficult when his brother and friend are glaring at him with righteous fury. If he didn’t already know Cas lost his powers, he’d be very concerned for his well-being. “What?”

           “Sam,” Cas started, “Dean and I are married.”

           The bombshell that dropped before him sounded suspiciously like his book slipping through his fingers. It was a contest, which would blink first him or them. Sam waited for the ringing in his ears stop before asking. “W-what?”

           All fight drained from Dean and Cas, each sneaking looks at each other before shooting Sam twin looks of concern. “Sam,” Dean tried, reaching a hand out, “are you okay –“

           “I should be asking you that,” Sam leapt to his feet, eyeing him for any clues. “Were you sure it was only a shifter. This isn’t like a spell or anything?” He dragged his fingers across Dean’s chest, as if a hex bag was taped there like a recording device.

           Dean bat his hands away. “Dude, the hell? No there weren’t any witches. Me and Cas are married.”

           “You’re serious?” Sam asked them, eyes wide, “You guys got married in Florida?”

           “No, Sam,” Cas said, “Dean and I have been married for a while… we celebrated our anniversary in Florida.”

           “…What?”

           “Yeah,” Dean continued, drawing Cas in closer, “One year. Why do you think we didn’t want anyone else coming with us?”

           “Because…because you didn’t need us for the hunt?”

           “When we went there was no hunt,” Dean sighed, “Except Winchester luck made it so we had ourselves a working vacation. You’re lucky we managed to salvage what was left so we weren’t coming back cranky. Although… ‘m not feeling too good now.”

           “Oh my God, you two… I can’t believe this…” Sam sank back down into his seat, tugging at his hair. “A… a year? How… When?”

           “You were there, Sam,” Cas said, “all of you were. Mary, Bobby… Jack, Claire, Jody, Donna and the girls… Chuck –“

           “Hold on,” Sam cut him off, “When we dragged your ass back from the Empty?”

           “Yeah,” Dean said, “Weren’t you listening when Chuck explained?”

           Sam blushed, finding his lap more interesting than the conversation. He remembered when Chuck showed them the parchment. On it was a way to rip Cas’s grace out and put it back into his body. He’d still be connected to the Empty, until the second part purified his body of any connection with the entity. And because of that, the Empty still had Cas’s wings, but his soul belonged to humanity. That’s all Sam thought he needed to know. He tuned Chuck out in favor of going over the scroll himself; confident he would understand it better that way. It was illegible, and Sam was too embarrassed to ask Chuck to clarify.

           “But,” Sam tried to save some of his dignity, “You two didn’t really change much. How was I supposed to know all of that was a… wedding ceremony?”

           Dean smirked, knocking heads with Cas. “We’re too old to act like animals, ripping our clothes off wherever. Didn’t need to, anyway. Me and Cas were always close… so there wasn’t that big a change. Just more options to express what was already there.”

           “Although it was me who stopped Dean from getting too frisky in public areas,” Cas sighed, “He didn’t care if you were to walk in on us.”

           “Should’ve let him. I bet there wouldn’t have been any confusion if he saw us –“

           “I don’t even want the mental image,” Sam said, face redder than before.

           His misery garnered a healthy chuckle from his brother. Dean wiped a tear from his eye, “Oh man, Sammy. How could you not notice for a year? You’re the one who’s always harping on the details. Oh – oh – and you even told me the next time I watch porn to wear headphones? Sam, I haven’t had the need to watch porn for so long you heard me and Cas going at it!”

           “Stop!” Sam cried, shoving his hands over his ears, “I’m going to murder you!”

           “Please, Sam, not my husband. Only I’m allowed to kill him,” Cas said blandly. His eyes feigned boredom but there was a smirk curling across his face.

           “I can’t have been the only one who didn’t know.”

           “Know what?” Jack asked, stepping into the room; his frown at Sam’s posture immediately transformed into a smile when noticing Dean and Cas. “Hey! When did you two get back?”

           Dean waved his question away, instead asking one of his own. “Jack, me and Cas? What are we?”

           “…My dads?”

           “No,” he sighed, flashing his hand at him. “What do these rings signify?”

           “Oh! That you and Cas are married!”

           Sam paled at the answer, Dean’s boastful grin leeching the color from him. “You knew?”

           “Of course, Sam,” Jack said, “It was their one year anniversary.”

           “This isn’t making any sense,” Sam muttered to himself, “Why didn’t I…”

           “Mom was in tears for days, Sam. And you thought Claire was joking when she called me dad? Christ, Chuck gave me his blessing and officiated. Even Amara sent a gift, and it wasn’t dad rising from the grave.” He heard Dean swallow, and then a hand on his shoulder. Sam looked up into his brother’s eyes, any and all mirth gone. “You, uh… you’re okay that me and Cas… that we’re…”

           Sam bit back a curse, hating himself for how he was acting. “Of course, Dean. It was… I was shocked is all. I mean… one whole year? And I didn’t even know, didn’t congratulate either of you…”

           “I thought you did, for what it’s worth,” Dean said, “‘You look happy, Dean. How does it feel to have a no-strings attached win?’” Those were the exact words Sam said to him after the Empty’s tentacles slithered away. A tear hangs precariously from the corner of Sam’s eyes.

           “I meant it,” Sam nodded, “Especially now that I know you and Cas are married. Are in love.” The words sat right on Sam’s tongue. Thinking back, he wasn’t sure how he kept the blindfolds on for so long. Love was the only explanation for the way Dean and Cas looked at each other. For how Cas always has a cup of coffee for Dean ready when he wakes up. For Dean buying books for Cas whenever they head out on hunts, the former angel’s collection already taking up one shelf in the Library. Sam swiped at his eyes, launching himself forward to crush Dean into a hug. “You deserve this, Dean.” Dean muttered something under breath, tugging Cas over with their still joined hands. He opens his vice-like grip long enough to crush the other man in, too. “So do you, Cas.”

           “All right, all right,” Dean freed himself, fighting the sweet smile unfurling, “That was enough of a chick-flick moment for today.”

           Cas nodded. “Dean is all chick-flicked out. We spent last night marathoning Bridget Jones after I lost the coin flip.”

           “Cas,” Dean whined, “You’re my husband. You took a vow to always be on my side.”

           “I made no such promise,” Cas chuckled, twining his arms around Dean’s neck, “All I committed to was loving you,” he pecked at Dean’s lips, “cherishing you,” again, “and honoring you,” and again, “until I take my last breath. Nowhere in there did I ‘vow’ to never make fun of you.”

           “You’re an ass.”

           “Yes, but I’m your ass.”

           Sam and Jack exchanged amused glances. “All right,” Sam cut them off before they bickered some more, “We get it. You’re together. You don’t have to prove it anymore.”

           “This?” Dean asked, “This ain’t proof. You want proof you can watch us have sex.”

           Sam frowned, scrunching his nose up in disgust. “Yuck. I told you Dean, I didn’t want the image of you sticking it to Cas.”

           Dean stepped backwards, mouth nearly cracking in half by how wide his grin is. “Other way around, moose brains.” He winked, delighting in the stuttered outrage from his brother.

           “Really?!?”

           “Of course, Sam,” Cas said, Dean already disappearing down the hallway, “How do you think I knew it wasn’t the real Dean?” The pointed stare brought the flush back onto his cheeks. Cas blipped out of sight after that, his and Dean’s laughter both mocking and comforting.

           Sam shook his head, the smile still in place on his face. “You two… made for each other.” He enjoyed his alone time, but always made time for his family. He always will. Things may change, can end or begin anew, but family will be eternal.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

Supernatural stars cover EW to celebrate 300 episodes (and an epic reunion)

Samantha Highfill

January 16, 2019 at 12:00 PM EST

“REUNION TIME!”

Jared Padalecki is making an announcement. It’s early December, and he and his Supernatural costar Jensen Ackles are preparing for their final two days of filming the 300th episode (Feb. 7) as demon-hunting brothers Sam and Dean Winchester, respectively. As they walk onto the Men of Letters set on a rainy Thursday, they come face-to-face with Jeffrey Dean Morgan, a personal friend and the man who brought Papa John Winchester to life in the show’s pilot (and left the show after season 2). “It’s the culmination of 300 episodes,” Padalecki says of Morgan’s return. After all, John’s disappearance kick-started the brothers’ road trip.

“DAD’S ON A HUNTING TRIP, AND HE HASN’T BEEN HOME IN A FEW DAYS.”

Standing in his little brother’s college apartment, Dean Winchester first uttered those words in the pilot, and in doing so, launched Supernatural’s — and the brothers’ —  first big mystery. “I had a good feeling about the show just reading the pilot,” Ackles says. “It had grit, the characters were well-written, and the story had miles to go.” Although he couldn’t quite predict how many miles the journey would be.

Supernatural premiered on The WB in 2005 and has since become the longest-running show in The CW’s history. The idea was simple: two brothers hunting monsters from urban legends, the kinds of things you’d hear about while sitting around a campfire. Bloody Mary? They killed her. Hook Man? Yep, him too. But it didn’t take long for the writers to understand that they might have to broaden the scope of the show if they wanted to get 20-plus episodes (much less 300). “We quickly realized that [conceit] would run out in a hurry, so even early on we expanded our horizons of what the show could be,” executive producer/co-showrunner Robert Singer says. But just how far could they stretch? And would they even get the chance?

Despite surviving the 2006 WB–UPN merger that created The CW, it took years forSupernatural to land on solid ground. “Bob Singer and I were fighting for the show’s survival at the ends of the first three seasons,” says creator Eric Kripke. “We’d have a meeting with the network that we informally called the ‘explain-why-we-should-give-you-another-season’ meeting.” And yet there was something about those conditions that felt right for a show about two humans trying to save the world from superhuman forces. As Dean recently said in a season 14 episode, “Impossible odds—feels like home.” But the land of impossible odds isn’t simply where the show (and the Winchesters) lived in those early years. It’s where they thrived. “In the beginning we almost mischievously wanted to see what we could get away with,” Kripke says. “There weren’t a lot of genre shows on The CW. It was mostly Gossip Girl and 90210. We were always like the goth kid at the back of the class that no one really wanted to pay attention to. So on this little weird horror show, we really got to push some boundaries that hadn’t been attempted in TV. There was no one saying, ‘That’s too crazy.’” So they took risks. They wrote a Groundhog Day-style episode called “Mystery Spot” that saw Dean die more than 100 times in one hour. They created “Hollywood Babylon,” an episode where Sam and Dean investigated a haunted horror-movie set. They produced “Ghostfacers,” an episode shot to look like a reality show about ghost hunting. “We always felt like we were on tenterhooks a little, but it helped us in a way,” Singer says. “We said, ‘If they don’t like us, let’s be bold.’ ” And in season 4, they made perhaps their biggest, boldest decision yet: They introduced angels (and therefore a much more religious story line) into the fold, which Singer identifies as the show’s biggest turning point. “I was concerned that would be a bridge too far,” Padalecki says of the angelic decision. “I wondered, ‘Are we going to turn o a lot of the people that came here to watch a scary movie?’” Kripke himself had fought the idea for years, until a pre–season 4 epiphany came to him while he was washing his face, of all things. “I realized the supernatural world was unbalanced,” Kripke says. “There was only evil. So I walked in the writers’ room on day one of season 4 and said, ‘Okay, there’s going to be angels…but they’re dicks!’”

Thus began what Kripke, who’s since created Revolution and co-created Timeless, still believes is one of the best hours of television he’s ever written: the season 4 premiere. “Lazarus Rising” introduced Castiel, the show’s first and longest-lasting angel. “Right before my scene, [then writer] Sera [Gamble] said, ‘Your life is about to change,’” remembers Misha Collins, who plays Castiel. He adds with a laugh, “I was like, ‘You’re so full of yourself.’” But Collins’ life did just that when he shifted from being a guest star to a series regular as his character survived multiple deaths — and even a brief stint as God — to become someone Sam and Dean consider family. “Angels completed the mythology,” Kripke says, and with them, the show was able to build to what writer-turned-showrunner Gamble refers to as the “regularly scheduled apocalypse” at the end of season 5. It was good versus evil. Michael versus Lucifer. Dean versus Sam. And for a while, everyone believed it was the end of the show. But when the network gave them a renewal for season 6, the writers were left to figure out what the heck comes after an apocalypse. The answer? Anything they wanted.

“A benefit of genre is we have such a huge runway in terms of ‘anything can happen,’” then writer and current co-showrunner Andrew Dabb says. “A medical show is limited in the scope of what they can do. We’re not.” So the next few seasons saw Supernatural push even more boundaries, with alternate realities, meta episodes (“The French Mistake,” anyone?), and new villains. That’s not to say everything worked, but that’s the beauty of a long-running show with a devoted audience — everything doesn’t have to work. “Fans would forgive sins of certain episodes because they love watching Sam and Dean,” Singer says. Because saying Supernatural fans like Supernatural is like saying Dean likes pie. It’s not about liking it. It’s about loving it. “I don’t think we have casual fans,” Singer says. “They live and breathe this show.” The #SPNFamily gathers all around the country (and globe) for multiple conventions each year, and every July they ll the largest venue, Hall H, at San Diego Comic-Con. It’s those fans who are devoted to Sam and Dean, even when their Impala might take a wrong turn. “The show’s ability to evolve and adapt is what’s led to it lasting 14 years,” Dabb says, adding, “Theoretically there are still a bunch of Leviathan out there running around that we never dealt with, but we don’t talk about that.”

Limitless options and viewer forgiveness aside, there is one rule the show has to follow — outside of standards and practices, that is. “I credit Bob Singer for instilling from very early on the idea that the show can go anywhere as long as the characters stay true to themselves,” former showrunner Jeremy Carver says. “The core of the show is the bond between the brothers.” With Sam and Dean as its foundation, the show can make episodes like season 11’s “Baby,” which was shot entirely from the perspective of the Impala, or season 13’s “Scoobynatural,” an animated crossover with Scooby-Doo and the gang. “One of the fun takeaways of watching Supernatural is that if you can imagine it, there’s probably a little town somewhere in America where it’s happening,” Gamble says. “It’s unlike any other show, really, in the history of American television.” And 14 seasons in, it’s still finding ways to surprise fans by, say, bringing John Winchester back.

“DAD?”

Standing next to his little brother in the Men of Letters bunker, Dean can’t believe what he’s seeing. This time he’s not enlisting his brother to find Dad, because Dad has come to them. And he hasn’t changed much. His beard has more gray in it and his face is thinner, but it will surprise no one that John comes back with a rifle in his hand. (Sorry, Walking Dead fans; the rifle came before Lucille.) But John isn’t the only one who’s changed. Standing across from him, Sam and Dean are no longer the kids who crammed toy army men into the ashtray of the Impala, or even the young men who went looking for him in the pilot. They’ve grown up. Their lives, quite simply, have changed. The same can be said of the actors themselves. In fact, Ackles is currently two years older than Morgan was when he filmed the pilot. “That’s how full circle it all is,” Morgan says. “Like a father would be, I’m very proud of the guys. It makes me get choked up because they’ve done so well here. Episode 300? That’s unheard of.”

As for how John comes back, let’s just say things get weird — don’t they always? — and there’s an altered reality at play. “Our guys are put in a position where they essentially can have a wish granted,” Dabb says. “They’re actually expecting something else, but [John’s return] comes from a place of want by Dean. The need for closure is really what brings John back into their lives.” But John isn’t the only person who comes back into their lives. As with any altered reality, not everything changes for the good. Without getting too specific, whatever brings John back also causes the return of Zachariah (Kurt Fuller), the no-BS angel who saw Sam and Dean as nothing more than thorns in his side. (Like Kripke said, angels are dicks!) Speaking of angels, this reality also affects Castiel in… certain ways. This time the boys are dealing with a different (though not entirely unfamiliar) version of their friend.

But for Morgan, who’s been asked for years about returning, it has always been about bringing John back in the right way. “The relationships between these three men were so open, so if I was going to come back, it would be nice to have some closure, especially with Sammy,” Morgan says. And before the hour’s over, both boys will get a moment alone with Dad. “This episode gives Sam a chance to forgive,” Padalecki says. Ackles adds, “For Dean, the whole episode is a dream that he doesn’t want to wake up from. But he knows he has to.”

Back in the bunker’s kitchen where Padalecki declared “reunion time” just hours ago, Sam and Dean are sitting around a table sharing a bottle of whiskey with their father and catching him up on everything he’s missed. Yes, they’ve saved the world (more than once). Yes, Lucifer has a son. But most important, John’s late wife, Mary — the woman he spent his life trying to avenge — is alive. Right then Mary rounds the corner for the moment she never saw coming, but in a strange way has always been waiting for. “Everything’s right in the world in this bubble of time,” Samantha Smith, who plays Mary, says of the couple’s reunion. “It’s very romantic.”

But as the Winchesters know a bit too well, all good things must come to an end. And when this is said and done, Sam and Dean will return to their life, driving down crazy street next to each other. Because despite the show hitting 300 episodes, nobody’s ready to call it quits just yet. “I don’t think we’re ready to throw in the towel,” Ackles says. “We’ve still got a little gas in the tank.” Put another way, Sam and Dean still got work to do.

[marril96]

Mommy Issues

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Mary disapproves of Rowena’s relationship with reader.

Editor: @oswinthestrange

A/N: This story is inspired by the lovely stories written by @oswinthestrange: Caught in a Compromising Position, Conflict Rises, and Hollow Apologies.

Read on AO3.

Mary Winchester was livid.

Not only was her only daughter leaving only a day after Mary had returned from an alternate world — a world she'd spent nearly a year in — but she was also in a relationship with a witch. And not just any witch — out of all people, you had the audacity to fall for one of the most powerful witches alive, mother of former King of Hell himself.

You could have spat on her as well while you were at it. In Mary's mind, there was nothing worse for a hunter than to get involved with a monster they were supposed to kill. The fact that Rowena, in her current state, was the furthest thing from a monster meant very little to her. She was a witch, a wicked one at that, with enough blood on her hands to drown a city the size of New York. She was a thing, an it, an animal who needed to be put down.

Right.

Let someone try. You dared them. Let them try to lay a hand on Rowena. Let them even look at her wrong. You'd killed for her before. Doing so again wouldn't faze you. In fact, you'd sleep better knowing a threat had been eliminated.

Much to your mother's annoyance, you didn't give a damn what she thought. You were an adult, a grown woman who'd lived her whole life without her. You could make your own decisions.

Hell, even if you were a teenager, the woman before you would have had no right to order you around.

"You can't just leave!" Mary argued, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

"Watch me," you said. A few more shirts and pieces of underwear, and you were done; done with the stale air of this bunker, suffocating you with every breath you took, done with Dean criticizing your relationship every single day and Sam playing the mediator to keep the peace, done with hunting and death and disappointment. Done with your mother.

All you wanted was some peace. You weren't a bad hunter, but the life was never something you'd have chosen for yourself. Sam was okay with John practically disowning him. You weren't. Solitude would have killed you; with your less than stellar social skills, you never would have found friends to replace your family. So you stayed. Year after year, you kept telling yourself you'd quit, but you were never brave enough to actually do it. Where would you go? Who would you turn to? Having graduated high school with barely passing grades and so many absences you had to bullshit your way into justifying, and with no working experience (hunting monsters didn't count in the eyes of the law) or friends to help you with employment, you didn't have that many prospects. You never would have made it alone.

You had Rowena now. You had someone you loved, someone you trusted at your side; someone you knew would never turn her back on you no matter what obstacle you stumbled across. The first person you weren't blood-related to that you considered family.

You'd always had a love for magic. Witchcraft, though, was frowned upon in hunting communities, in hunting families. Witches were evil, everyone had said. Right. Of course. There was never any point in arguing, lest you wanted to be accused of being a traitor. Meeting Rowena had changed that. You'd finally gotten a chance to do something you loved, to be something you loved. Witch Y/N Winchester had quite a nice ring to it.

"What about your brothers?" Mary asked.

"Sam and Dean are big boys. They're more than capable to hunt without me." As they'd done a hundred times. You frowned at the empty drawer. "Rowena, did you see my scarf?"

"It's in my bag," Rowena answered from the other corner of the room, packing her own bag. Another thing mother dearest hadn't been the happiest about; her daughter, sharing a room a with a witch? Unacceptable! "You lent it to me last week, remember?"

"Right," you said.

Mary ignored the interaction. "And what about me?"

Four simple words, and they were enough to ignite a spark deep inside you. A wildfire of anger burned through you, spreading through your body like poison in your veins. Fingers balling into tight fists and teeth clenching, you whirled around to face your mother.

"What about you?" Some nerve she had to even ask that. "Are you serious?"

She had been the one to leave last year. She had been the one to join the British Men of Letters behind your and your brothers' backs. Had Sam and Dean not talked her into returning, she would have remained in the alternate world with her new family, sealed away from you for good.

"You almost stayed in that shithole world, and you're giving me grief for going on a road trip?!"

Mary had the decency to look ashamed. Just a tad, barely noticeable, but shame was shame. 'That's different."

Of course. Favorite line of parents all over the world. It was always different when they did it. "Why? Because I'm dating a witch?"

Rowena, having kept her head down throughout the argument to give the two of you some space, looked up at the mention of her. Her eyes traveled from you to Mary back and forth, curious, a tiny bit worried. You'd warned her about your mother not approving of the relationship; if Dean still had a hard time accepting it, Mary would be a hundred times worse.

Your mother sighed. "She's not good for you, Y/N."

"You don't know her," you argued. People always seemed ready to judge Rowena without bothering to get to know her. It was easier to hate her than to give her a chance to prove herself.

"I've heard about the things she's done."

"But you don't know her!"

"I know she's a witch, and she's got blood on her hands," Mary said.

"And I don't? You, Sam, Dean; none of you have any blood on yours?" If she wanted to judge Rowena, she had to judge herself and her children just as harshly. There wasn't a thing Rowena had done that one of you hadn't. All of you were killers. All of you had spilled innocent blood. Let he or she who was without sin cast the first stone.

"None of us have done half the things she has," Mary argued.

"Bullshit!"

At the very least, Rowena had never attempted to participate in genocide. Something that couldn't be said for your brothers and mother.

"She's leading you down a dangerous path!" Mary said.

"She's changed!" you said. Rowena had redeemed herself, and you would never tire of saying it out loud. Not until people got it in their thick heads. Your girl wasn't a wicked witch anymore.

Mary gave you a dirty look. "If that was true, she wouldn't have tried to drag you into her… practices." She spat the word 'practices' as if it was dirty, as if the mere thought of witchcraft made her stomach churn with disgust.

Rowena shot her a glare as deadly and sharp as a knife, the kind that had to have killed before. "If you knew your daughter at all, you would know she's always had a fondness for magic." She'd promised to be on her best behavior, but enough was enough. You'd asked her to be nice, to not start anything, and she'd done a splendid job. Whatever followed, Mary had brought on herself.

Keeping the peace was important, but you'd never ask your girlfriend to bow her head like a dog in the face of insults — even if those insults were thrown by the members of your family. She deserved respect, as a person, as a woman, as your girlfriend. Dean had learned that, sort of, and so would Mary. And if she refused… Well, it wouldn't be the first time that you'd cut a toxic person out of your life.

"This doesn't involve you!" Mary said.

"It does when you bash me and my craft!" Rowena shot back.

"Your craft?" Mary scoffed. "You make it sound like an art."

"It is an art. A beautiful, fine one not many have natural talent for." She gave you a look of pride, of admiration. No one had ever given you that look before. "Y/N was born for it."

Marty's features twisted into a look one made when they smelled something disgusting. "My daughter was born human!" she insisted, and looked ready to fight to prove her words.

"What are witches, if not human?" Rowena asked, though she knew what the answer would be. Nothing else could be expected from a bigot.

"Monsters! You're monsters!" Mary said. "I'm not letting you turn my daughter into one!"

"Don't talk to her like that!" you barked. Rowena was a lot of things, but she wasn't a monster. Not anymore.

Your mother turned to you. "Can't you see she's manipulating you, Y/N? Maybe she even cast a spell on you!"

You shook her head. "She didn't do anything." You took a deep breath. "I want this. I've always wanted it."

"You didn't!"

How would she know? She'd been dead for over thirty years, and when she'd come back to life, the first thing she did was run away. She didn't know you. Rowena did. Rowena knew you to your core, to the bottom of your soul. She never judged you, never looked at you wrong. Even when you were enemies, not once had she said a bad thing about you. She respected your decisions. She loved you as you were, and didn't try — or want, for that matter — to change a thing about you.

Something that couldn't be said for your mother.

She may have given birth to you, but she wasn't your family. Not really. Rowena, on the other hand, was.

The realization made your stomach twist with unease. Your own mother, and she knew you — wanted to know you — less than the woman who used to be your enemy.

"How would you know? You were dead!" you said. The reminder hurt; your entire life all you wished for was your mother. If only you'd known what she was really like. Your father had made her out to be a saint. Maybe she was, once upon a time. Or maybe John had fed you lies. It wouldn't have been the worst thing he'd done as a parent. You took a deep breath. "And when you came back, you ran away! Not once did you try to get to know me!"

Mary sighed, a look of hurt passing over her face. From a certain angle it might have looked like guilt. Might have.

Tears pickled at your eyes, but you held them back. You wouldn't break in front of her. You wouldn't let her see you at your weakest, at your most vulnerable. You could be strong for just a little more, until you and Rowena were safe and, most important of all, alone in your tiny car, ready to start the next chapter of your lives.

"I want this, mom," you said after a few moments of silence, giving her time for your words to sink in. "I want to be a witch."

"How can you want that?" Mary asked, tone as anguished as the look that settled on her face. She didn't understand. She didn't want to understand.

You shrugged. "I just do. It's my decision. Respect it."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

The words stung. "If you really loved me, you would." A real mother would.

"I love you and your brothers more than anything in the world."

"As long as we're obedient little soldiers, right?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she said, stare pointed, expression firm.

"Right." A slight chuckle escaped you, memories of your childhood flooding your mind. "You're just like dad. I thought you were different, but turns out, you're just like him."

He, too, put his wishes above yours. His love, just like Mary's, it seemed, was conditional. You either lived by his rules, or not at all. His word was law. He knew best. He knew you better than you knew yourself. He knew what you wanted, what you needed and dreamed and aspired to. He knew it all.

Right.

Sam had made the right decision when he'd decided to get out.

And so had you.

"John made mistakes—" Mary tried, but you cut her off.

"I don't give a damn about him and his 'mistakes!'" you exclaimed, forming quotation marks with your fingers to emphasize the last word. "And…" You took a large, deep breath for courage. Your eyes trailed downwards, then met hers once more, strong, determined. "If you can't accept this, then I don't give a damn about you, either."

Mary gulped. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I love Rowena, and I want to be a witch." Rowena gave you a proud, encouraging smile. You responded with a small smile of your own. "I love you, mom, but… I love her more. I love me more. I'm done letting other people make decisions for me. This is my life."

"You can't be serious," Mary said, startled by your words.

"Deadly," you said. It was honesty hour. You were done playing good, obedient little girl.

"I'm your family!"

"Rowena is my family, as well." A more loving, supporting family than your blood one.

"She'll stab you in the back the first chance she gets!"

That wasn't her anymore. Rowena had changed. She still had a long way to go, but she was working on her redemption.

"She won't," you said. "She's changed."

"You're willing to bet your life on that?"

"I am." Because you knew there was no threat. Your life was safe in Rowena's hands. Safer than it would have been in Mary's.

"Despite everything she's done?"

"Despite everything." Checking to make sure you packed everything, you zipped up your bag, then took hold of Rowena's hand and squeezed tightly.

"You're a fool," Mary said.

You shrugged. "Says you."

"You're throwing your life away."

"Quite the contrary; my life is only just beginning."

"And what about our lives? Are we just supposed to accept losing one of our own?"

"You're not losing me, mom. We can talk on the phone every day, if you want."

"But it won't be you." A tear slid down Mary's cheek. "It-it will be a witch."

"Witch or not, I'll still be me," you pointed out. It wasn't like your soul would disappear and a demon would take its place in your body. You would be you; with a few magical abilities and an allergy to iron added to the mix, but still you. You would still be that baby your mother held when you were little, still that little girl she used to dance with in the kitchen while preparing dinner.

Mary shook her head, adamant, defiant. "You won't. Once you dabble in magic, there's no going back."

"Maybe I don't want to go back," you told her.

"You have to make a choice, then." She looked at you, eyes wounded, hurt, as if the entire world's grief and sorrow settled in them. She looked to be on the verge of falling apart. "Us or her."

Your eyes widened, shock spreading over your face like a splash of paint. "What?"

Mary swallowed, then cleared her throat. "Your family or the witch. You can't have it both ways, Y/N."

Your family or the witch.

Your family or the witch.

Your family or the witch.

She wanted you to choose.

Your own mother, who supposedly loved you more than life itself, had given you an ultimatum.

You knew it was a possibility, but never, in your wildest dreams, have you thought she would actually do it.

Rowena loved you as you were.

Mary loved the idea of you.

Rowena accepted your flaws.

Mary made up flaws where there weren't any.

Rowena encouraged you to follow your dreams.

Mary wanted you to suppress your dreams if they happened to not align with hers.

Rowena knew your favorite songs, books, movies, and TV shows by heart, even though your interests greatly differed from hers.

Mary could list two cartoons and one song you liked when you were a child.

Rowena answered when you called in need, and held you when you cried, and did everything in her power to get you back on your feet.

Mary had been too busy planning genocide with the British Men of Letters to even answer a text message.

Rowena, despite centuries of building walls and hiding her emotions, had opened up and allowed you to see her as she was. She was terrified; terrified of betrayal, of being taken advantage of, for that was all she'd ever known. And still, she let you in, let you get to know her, let herself love you even though it went against all the principles she'd held for centuries.

Mary had wanted to stay in a war-torn world with a bunch of strangers, principles over family.

With Rowena you had a future.

Mary, on the other hand, brought nothing but pain and disappointment into your life.

Mary may have brought you into this world, but she didn't understand you. Rowena did. And when she didn't understand, she did her best to try. Because she loved you. She wanted to know everything about you, about your life, about you most beautiful dreams and worst fears. She wanted to know it all.

Mary didn't even pretend to try. She was convinced she knew better, convinced she knew you despite never even bothering to get to know you.

Your grip on Rowena's hand tightened, half instinct and half intent. Ignoring the hammer-like pounding of your heart and steadying your breathing to get the words out without stumbling, you said. "That's an easy choice to make."

You and Rowena grabbed your bags and, looking around the room one last time to make sure you packed everything of importance, you left.

You left the bunker.

You left the memories, good and bad, behind, hoping to never revisit them again.

You left your life.

You left your family.

You left your mother.

As soon as you were in your car, far away from nosy eyes and ears, you collapsed into Rowena's arms and cried. You cried and wailed and sobbed, let everything aching and bad out, emptied your heart of all the pain that had gathered inside it. Rowena held you to her, hands gently tapping your back, words of comfort slipping from her lips in tender, soothing whispers.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked when you calmed down.

Pulling away from the embrace, you straightened up in your seat. Tears had finally stopped flowing, their remnants drying on your puffed up cheeks. You looked at Rowena, and the truth of the words you were about to say pooled in your eyes before you managed to utter a single one. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Rowena beamed. You smiled, bright as a sunshine. Starting the car, you drove out of the garage, onto the open road, on your way to a brand new life. The life you'd always wanted, with the woman you loved the most in the whole wide world.

Tags: Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @darktweet @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @royalrowena @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @dropsofpetrichor @fromflametofire @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @elaspn @cas-loves-dean-and-i-love-him @faeyla @hotdiggitydammit @1-800multifandom @darkhumorsblog

[douxreviews]

Supernatural - ‘Lebanon’ Review

What a lovely episode. It didn't feature a huge battle or the culmination of a major story arc. It wasn't a musical production with a large cast. It was small and personal, and deeply emotional.

Clearly, Sam should have been the one to wish for his heart's desire, because I bet it would have been what they wanted, that Dean be free of Michael. Instead, Dean held the pearl, and what he wanted more than his own life was his father back. Not a surprise, but it says a lot about Dean, doesn't it? That he wanted John Winchester more than he wanted to be free of the probability of eons of suffering? That in Dean's heart, just like when he went to Hell, he still doesn't believe he deserves to be saved?

This heartfelt Winchester reunion would have seemed bogus if John and his boys had just fallen into each others' arms. John, an active hunter fresh from 2003 who got dropped into the darkened bunker with his sawed-off in his hands, had trouble recognizing his own sons as they are in 2019, and who could blame him? It was almost a miracle that he didn't shoot first and ask questions after.

But once the truth set in, it was lovely. I keep using that word about this episode, but it bears repeating.

The best scene was the one where John apologized to Sam for not being a good father. I honestly believe this was Jared Padalecki's best dramatic scene in the entire series. Sam told John that their argument was a lifetime ago, that he had thought for years of John on the floor of that hospital and how they never got to say goodbye. Sam was crying. John was crying. Of course, I was crying, too.

And during all of the bunker scenes, Dean's heart was in his eyes. This was what he had always wanted: the four of them together, his father expressing total love, pride, approval of him. And I loved how Dean was sensitive enough to leave his parents alone. Mary got to embrace her beloved husband one more time, touch him, kiss him, and I hope they did more than that while the boys were out shopping. Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Samantha Smith did a wonderful job expressing John and Mary's love and deep connection, especially when you consider that these two had only one scene together in the pilot episode way back in 2005. No need to mention that both of them look older. It wasn't important. The two actors aren't old enough to be J&J's parents, anyway.

I thought centering the reunion on a family dinner was, I'll say it again, lovely. These four people have never even had a family dinner together. Sam was a baby when Mary died, and Dean was only four.

Like all of the best Supernatural episodes, "Lebanon" started out funny and ended tragically. Of course the boys couldn't have their father back, and I loved that John was the strong one. John was determined that they all simply enjoy being together one last time. John kept smiling at them, a genuine smile. He stayed positive. He gave Sam closure, and he gave Dean approval. He kept holding Mary's hand as if he couldn't bear to let her go. And he took a bit of it back to 2003 as a dream. It will have to be enough.

The rest of the episode was delightful, too. We've seen way too little of Lebanon, even though the Winchesters have been living there for six seasons. I enjoyed every single easter egg and callback, and I'm sure I didn't catch them all: the clown ghost; Max stealing the Impala like the valet in "Baby;" the Winchesters using the name Campbell, which is Mary's last name and an alias that actually means something to them. The movies at the Lebanon Vista Theatre included Hell Hazers and All Saints Day.

The three kids, Eliot, Max and Bea, got to find out who those two strange brothers were, and thought that monster hunters were incredibly cool. (Well, they are until you need them.) I also loved how Marta the post office clerk melted when Dean flirted with her, while she looked at Sam distastefully. How could anyone but a monster find Sam distasteful? I watched this episode with my son Daniel, who was going, "Yeah, let's take home an entire box of actively evil occult objects, because nothing could possibly go wrong with that." And "It's never a good sign when a teddy bear has no eyes and its mouth is sewn shut." I assume "Precious Pawn" was a reference to Lord of the Rings. Loved the dragon's breath. Laugh out loud.

It was even nice to see Kurt Fuller as the nasty Zachariah again, although I hated seeing Castiel so hateful. It's sad to think of how Castiel would have been without his love for the Winchesters – although it would have been much sadder if Misha Collins hadn't been in the 300th episode. I'm glad Sam thought of the sigil so that he didn't have to kill alt-Castiel. Even though it wouldn't have mattered since time was reset and it never happened.

And the alternate timeline versions of Dean and Sam were a hoot. Especially Sam as a self-help guru with glasses. And kale.

Bits:

— This is Supernatural's 300th episode. Wow.

— There was no credit card for Jeffrey Dean Morgan in the opener. He got an end credit as "special guest star." Thoughtful, although I bet every fan of the show was already spoiled that he was going to be in this one.

— The date was the same as the episode air date: February 7, 2019. Skip day.

— I assume Mary didn't tell John that she's been dating Alternate Universe Bobby.

— The boys were at the pawn shop because of the skull of Sarah Good. She was a real person.

— As has been mentioned before, Lebanon, Kansas is the geographic center of the contiguous United States, a clever choice by the writers.

— The Agents of Doux put together an article on our favorite episodes of Supernatural. What do you think? Should "Lebanon" be on the list? It would absolutely be in my top twenty, that's for sure.

— We're getting a mini-hiatus. The next episode airs March 7.

Quotes:

Dean: (re: the dead pawn shop owner) "They always talk too much."

Eliot: "Where did they even come from? Them, or their weird sidekick with the trench coat? And what about that kid with the dumb Bambi look on his face all the time?"

Marta: (to Sam) "So you want me to give you an underage girl's address?"

Dean: "A serial killer clown. I mean, this is like the best/worst thing that's ever happened to you. You know, 'cause you love serial killers but you hate clowns." Sam: (frantically trying to burn the cigar box) "Yeah. I get it, Dean."

John: "So. You saved the world." Dean: "More than once." John: "Then it's all true. God, the Devil, you boys smack in the middle. Now you live in a secret bunker with an angel and Lucifer's kid." Dean and Sam: "Yeah." John: "And you've done this whole time travel thing before?" Dean: "Few times."

John: "I went out taking out Yellow Eyes. I mean, that was the point, right? Get the thing that killed Mom."

John: "Son, I am so sorry." Sam: "I'm sorry, too. But you did your best, Dad. You fought for us and you loved us. That's enough."

Dean: "According to the internet, you run a law firm and love kale." It's sad that even in the alternate timeline, the boys had no families.

Dean: "I googled me as well. Lot of beheadings."

Zachariah: "Earth, where you're always stepping in something. Come on, Constantine." Castiel: "I don't understand that reference." Zachariah: "You wouldn't."

Dean: (to Sam) "I'm good with who I am. I'm good with who you are." They're not angry young men anymore. They've grown up.

John: "I choose grateful. So to whatever brought us together, we owe you one. Amen."

Supernatural does time travel good. I could probably write about this episode for a few more hours, but I'd better stop here. Four out of four pearls,

Billie Doux has been reviewing Supernatural for so long that Dean and Sam Winchester feel like old friends. Courageous, adventurous, gorgeous old friends.

[fanficsandfluff]

(Submission) All That Matters

Oh God, idk if this was a bad idea or…? Hehe, I tried! Don’t kill me, please, this was my first time ever even attempting to write anything tickle related… how did I do?

All That Matters

Three word prompt: wrestle, growl, rain

“Why does it have to be raining?” you said, miserably staring out of the window. Rain was falling heavily from the sky, hammering against the glass and battering on the roof. You had planned to go and visit a friend you had met while working a case with your brothers a while back, but Dean had absolutely refused to take his newly-painted Baby out in this kind of weather.

“Ask Chuck,” Sam said, looking up only briefly from his laptop to smile at you. You didn’t return the smile, however, deciding to simply slump in your chair and cross your arms dejectedly over your chest.

Sam sighed and closed his laptop, leaning back in his chair to look at you. “What is it, Y/N?” he asked, raising an eyebrow when you turned to glare at him.

“You know what’s wrong, Sam,” you said, glare softening at the look on your brother’s face. “I can’t go and see Becky because Dean’s stupid car might get ruined.”

“Hey,” came a new voice, and you and Sam turned to see Dean walking up the stairs towards you, paint stained all over his plaid shirt. “What did Baby ever do to you?”

Rolling your eyes, you slumped even more in your seat.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, the younger of the two making a face which clearly said ‘speak to her’.

Dean made a face back, before sighing defeatedly. “You wanna do something, Y/N?” he asked, walking over to you.

“No. I’ll be fine. Go back to Baby, I’m sure she’s missing you.”

“Watch it,” Dean said, moving forward and giving you a well-aimed poke at your side. You giggled, batting at his hands, before regaining your bad-tempered face. “Come on,” he said, “get up.”

“Why?” you asked.

“We’re gonna have a wrestling match. If you win, I’ll take you to your friend’s tomorrow.”

“Really?” you said excitedly, sitting up in your seat and looking at him. “You’ll take me to Becky’s?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Baby’ll be fixed up by then.”

“And if you win?”

“You have to promise not to whine about my choice of music when we work on the next hunt.”

Sam laughed at that, shrugging at the helpless look on your face. Let’s just say, Dean’s taste in music was not exactly… your thing.

“Deal?” Dean said, a smirk on his face, and you hesitantly nodded.

“Fine,” you said, mumbling a quiet “jerk” when he had started to walk away.

You didn’t know how you had ended up where you were.

Completely out of breath.

On the floor.

Being pinned down by Dean Winchester.

“Get. Off!” you huffed, pushing at your older brother’s shoulders.

This wrestling match had lasted three minutes at most.

Surely it wasn’t fair when one of them was a fully grown, demon-beating, angel-stabbing man, and the other a sixteen-year old who only went with her brothers on hunts because they didn’t trust someone not to sneak into the bunker and kill her while they were gone.

“I won,” Dean smirked down at you, fighting your slapping hands and pinning your wrists to the bunker floor.

“Yeah, I kinda got that,” you said, struggling against the hunter. “Now get off!”

“No can do, kiddo,” Dean said, and suddenly, that mischievous glint was shining in his green eyes. “Sammy and I wanna see that smile.”

“What?”

“You’ve been acting so goddamn depressed all day, just because I can’t take you to your friend’s house. Gimme a proper smile, and I’ll let you go.”

“Let me go, and I’ll give you a proper smile.”

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart.”

“It does for me,” you said, and you quickly brought your leg up and kneed him in the stomach.

Dean gasped, eyes squeezing shut and hands flying to where you hurt him. Laughing, you rolled away from him and stood up, running in the opposite direction… and flying straight into Sam, who quickly reached down and hoisted you over his shoulder.

“You alright, Dean?” he chuckled. Dean made a face, sitting up and rubbing his stomach.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed, easing himself to his feet and turning to glare at you.

“I’m gonna tell mom you called her that,” you said with a grin, turning your head around to look at your brother from where you were still hanging over Sam’s shoulder.

“Very funny,” Dean said.

“I know right? I’m hilarious. Now, um, Sammy?”

“Mhm?” the moose said, tightening his grip around your legs.

“Why’re you holding me?”

“I’m being a considerate younger brother and making it easier for Dean to tickle you.”

“Easier for- what? What did you say?” You were starting to panic now. Had you head him correctly? Of course you had, what were you thinking? It wasn’t exactly the least obvious thing in the world that Dean would want to retaliate after what you did.

“You heard him, sis,” Dean said, beginning to stalk towards you. Oh God. Oh no. Holy crap. Sh*t. F*ck. Crappity crap crap crap.

“Please, Dehehean noho!” You were already giggling, Sam having turned you around and lowered himself to the floor, holding you against his chest. He was starting to chuckle along with you, your giggles contagious.

“Dean Dean Dean I’m sohorry plehehease!”

“You sound like I’m about to murder you,” Dean said, smiling as he moved closer.

“You are!”

“Calm down,” the hunter chuckled, kneeling in front of you and Sam and making a show of cracking his knuckles. Slowly, he started to move his hands towards you, wiggling his fingers slightly. You stared wide-eyed at them, suddenly squealing when you felt fingers at your ribs.

Dean winked and sat back. “Made you look.”

Sam’s wiggling digits were torture. He was somehow managing to tickle your sides and lower ribs while still keeping a firm hold on you. How unfair could someone be? “Nohohoho Sahahammy!” you laughed, desperately trying to evade his hands.

“There’s that smile!” Dean said, throwing his hands into the air in achievement, quickly bringing them down again and grabbing you out of Sam’s arms into his own. He wasted no time in wiggling his fingers into your stomach, vibrating them and forcing laughter to escape your mouth.

“NohohoHOHOHOHO DEHEHEHE!”

“Yeah, Y/N?” the older Winchester said, still rapidly tickling at your ribs with one hand, and holding your wrists together with the other.

“STOHOHOHOP IT!!!! PLEEEASE!”

“Why?”

“BECAUSEHEHE IHIT TIHICKLES!”

“We would never have guessed!” Sam chuckled, sitting back and stretching his legs out in front of him, relishing in the sound of his little sister’s beautiful laughter. You had clearly been feeling very upset recently, preferring to stay in your room and not really talking much to anyone unless asked. Castiel had noticed it, too, and had tried very hard to make things a bit happier for you, randomly showing up at the bunker at times with bags of junk food. Your laughter wasn’t heard much at all anymore. Ever since finding out Mary had practically betrayed her family and began to work with the British Men of Letters, you had started to lose your grip on the fact that you had your mom back. She wasn’t the same. She… she seemed to suddenly understand this new, modern world, and had gone off on her own path. This had upset you. Horribly.

But times like these… times where you forgot about everything and focussed on having a good time with your brothers… they were everything to you. You loved them more than anything in the world – including Cas – and you wouldn’t change them for the world. Even if they did pin you down and tickle you to tears more times than you could count.

“Okay, okay,” Dean said above the noise of your laughter, “just gotta do one more thing, then I’ll stop.” And he quickly let go of your wrists, immediately aiming straight at your – still raised – underarms. Simultaneously, he bent his head down, gripped your shirt in his teeth, pulled it up, and blew on your skin. Hard.

Your laughter went silent. Dean’s wriggling fingers trapped in your underarms, along with his mouth blowing raspberry after raspberry on your stomach, made your nerves light with a fire. A fire which caused every hair on your body to stand on end, and tears to leak from your shut eyes, and laughter to fall to nothing in your mouth.

Dean realized that, if he didn’t stop soon, you’d be nothing more than a worn-out puddle of giggliness on his lap. He sat up straight, withdrew his arms, and smiled fondly as you curled up into a ball and, still giggling, tried to calm yourself. “Yohohu are so ho-horrible!” you managed to wheeze out, and Dean pinched your side.

“Careful, sis,” he said, watching you squeak and try to cover your lower body. “I may be too tired to do a round-two, but Sammy’s perfectly fine.”

You looked up at your moose of a brother, eyes widening when he let out a mock-growl. “Sohohorry!” you apologised quickly.

“For what?” Dean prompted.

“For, um… for kneeing you,” you said guiltily. Maybe that had been a little too harsh.

“And?” Sam asked.

You frowned. What else did you need to apologise for?

“When we ask you to smile, just smile,” Dean said softly, seeing you needed help with figuring it out and gathering you into his arms. “Seeing it on your beautiful face makes us feel so much better. You’ve been in a bad mood for days now, sweetheart. You know we love you more than we can say. Let us help you.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around your brother and burying your face into his shirt. “Okay,” you whispered, though it was loud enough for them both to hear. Sam moved forward and leaned down to smooth the blonde hair out of your face and kiss your forehead.

They may be jerks, idiots, and complete and utter bitches… but they were amazing. They were always there for you, and they were the best big brothers you could have possibly asked for.

You loved them, and that was all that mattered.

FANFICSANDFLUFF’S NOTE:

GIIIRRRRL YOU’RE A NATURAL AT TICKLE FICS!!!! And again, you are a damn saint for doing this for me!!!!!! Thank you thank you thank you! I look forward to future things you write if you ever do make that blog!

[raspberrytummytickles]

Mother Knows Best

Title: Mother Knows Best Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Sam, Dean, Mary Summary: Ticklish!Dean, Ticklish!Sam; Dean is too awkward around Mary so she decided to loosen him up a bit with motherly tickles. Dean reminds her that she has another son who never received those.

Original Prompt: You could maybe do something with Mary? Like in season 12, during the bit where she's actually kinda acting like a mum? Maybe Dean's stressed, or sad, or just acting like a dick so she remembers how ticklish he was when he was little and tickles him, and then Sam walks in on it and Dean tells Mary that she should find out where all Sam's tickle spots are to make up for not being able to find out when they were young? And obviously Dean ends up helping Mary tickle Sam because he's a shit

A/N: AWWWW I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH! It sounds so cute and THANK YOU ANON FOR THIS CUTE THINGY!!! AHHH! Here’s my shot at it!

Note: (9:36 pm) This is my third time writing this prompt....hehehe... Note: (11:04 pm) Fourth attempt....sigh...struggles XD

Mary noticed many things about both her sons. Her oldest, while grown up, looked at her the same way he did when he was four just with added longing. Her youngest looked at her like she was a stranger and it just didn't sit well with her. 

Mary wanted to change that. She wanted to know her boys and maybe being a part of their lives would easy things up. First, she had to get through to Dean. Her oldest boy was so awkward around her, it hurt. It was funny but it ached her heart as she realized Dean only had a few years of a mother’s touch. And Sam, God, she didn't want to think about that. So, she might as well re-introduce it to her boys.

Mary walked down one of the many hallways in the bunker, exploring the Men of Letters different rooms when she came across Dean’s. Perfect. Her oldest son was laying on his bed, headphones in. He was breathing deeply and looked utterly relaxed. 

Oh well.

Mary crept closer, giving Dean’s left hip an experimental squeezed. Dean screeched in surprise, jumping up and knocking his headphones off.

“Sammy, what the―” Dean paused when he saw Mary. “Mom?”

“Hi,” Mary smiled sweetly at Dean, watching as her oldest melted. Before he could question her again, Mary gave Dean’s hip another squeeze.

“STOHOP ihihit!”

“Dean, I'm just trying to get familiar with you again,” Mary scolded gently. She reached and grabbed Dean’s other hip, experimentally scratching at his flanks.

“YOHOU cahahan dohoho thahat wihihithohohut tihihickling MEHE!”

“But it’s more fun this way.”

“Noho it's NOHOHOT!” Dean shrieked when Mary attacked his worst spot with hard squeezes that sent ticklish jolts through his body. Dean jumped with each motion, head thrown back in hysterical laughter.

“Are you ticklish anywhere else, Dean?”

“MOHOHOM STOHOHOP!”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mary tested Dean’s tummy, only getting loud laughter once she dug into the abdomen. She hit a certain spot under Dean’s ribs which made him cackle and focused right on that spot. “I like it here.”

“DOHOHON’T!”

“But, I like this reaction much better,” Mary darted back to Dean’s hip, catching him by surprise. He kicked violently but never shoved Mary away, he just continued laughing. His freckles popped out once his face turned a nice shade of dark pink. He looked utterly adorable.

“Why don't you push me off, Dean? I know you can!”

“IHIHI DOHOHON’T WAHAHANT TO HURT YOHOHOU!”

“Awww,” Mary cooed at her oldest, digging one last time in his most ticklish spot. Dean howled with laughter, finally grabbing Mary’s hands and pushing them off his body.

“Noho more,” He panted.

“What’s going on in here?” A voice asked, which turned out to be Sam who was leaning against the doorframe of Dean’s room. Dean panted in relief at the sight of his little brother, arms stretching pathetically toward him. Sam chuckled, staying where he was and raising an eyebrow at their mother.

“Just tickling him,” Mary shrugged, looking at her baby who was a freaking giant (she still couldn't get over that). 

“T-Torture!” Dean corrected. “Torturing me...”

“Just don't kill him,” Sam shrugged, quirking his lips in amusement. Dean sat up, eyes narrowed at his baby brother.

“Ya know, mom? You never got a chance to find any of Sammy’s tickle spots. Wanna give it a shot?”

“What?”

“Definitely,” Mary giggled, mischievousness that resembled Dean’s so much, Sam didn’t move fast enough and Dean barreled into him. The Winchester boys wrestled each other for dominance and Dean finally reigned victorious.

“Haha! Got you pinned!” Dean crowed. Sam punched his brother in the shoulder, squirming frantically to get away.

“Dean, mom, please! Please don't tickle me!”

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Dean chuckled. “Sammy is way more ticklish then I ever was.”

“Oh really?”

“No! Dean, mom don't do it! Please! I’m behehegging yohohou!” Sam squeaked as he felt Mary run her nails along his chin and behind his ear. Sam shook his head, trying to dislodge her fingers.

Dean grabbed both of Sam’s wrists, forcing them above his head, leaving Sam Freaking Winchester vulnerable as hell. 

“He reacts better to light tickles but once you get to his tummy, you can go all out, it wont matter.”

“That a deathzone?” Mary asked, scratching down Sam’s biceps and then spidering over the sensitive under arms. Sam arched, laughter flowing out of him as soon at her fingers brushed against his hollows.

“Nahahaha! Mohohom stohohop!”

“But Sammy, I need to know these things! It’s my duty as a mother!”

“Gohoho bahahack to Dehehehean!”

“Shut up, Bitch!” Dean cried, clutching Sam’s wrists with one hand and digging the other one onto Sam’s ribs. Sam squealed at the added hand, hips rocking wildly at the tickles.

“Dean,” Mary warned lightly. “Language.”

“Sorry, mom.”

Mary’s hands joined Dean’s, each playing a different tune of Sam’s ticklish ribs. Dean, knowing exactly what got Sam cackling, massaged the bottom ribs, tickling the little spot underneath as well (something they had in common). Mary focused on the top ribs, experimentally going between light brushes of her nails to wiggling all her finger’s on both sides.

Sam was going crazy, his laughter already taking a desperate tone. He pleaded incoherently, feet kicking out to push himself away from the two.

“Dehehe! StohohOHOP!” Sam cried out when Dean’s hand found Sam’s taunt belly.

“Now, Sammy here is ticklish with or without his shirt on. But, I like tickling skin, just because the reaction is more adorable,” Dean shrugged. “But it’s your preference.”

“Whichever one makes him laugh the hardest,” Mary smirked. Dean matched it, lifting Sam’s shirt to his chest.

“C’mon, Sammy. Show mom how ticklish you are!” Dean let go of Sam’s hands and scribbled both of them on Sam’s left side. Sam jumped, immediately trying to turn on his other side but Mary quickly joined Dean on the right, following his hand movements.

“NAHAHA! NO! DEHEHEAN! MOHOHOM!”

“Oh! Oh! Sammy loved these,” Dean leaned down and nuzzled Sam’s tummy, making the youngest Winchester giggle. Mary cooed, still tickling Sam’s sides. Dean took a deep breath and blew a loud raspberry on Sam’s navel.

“BAHAHAHA! DEHEHEAN NOHOHOT THAHAHAT!” Sam sobbed, face scrunched up and tears prickling the corner of his eyes.

“One more!”

“NoHOHOHO! DEHEHEAN!”

“Alright, alright, I'm done you big baby!” Dean laughed, rubbing Sam’s pink tummy teasingly. Sam smacked his hands away, scooting away from his older brother and mom.

“Gohohod, that wahas torture!”

“I’m happy you boys let me do this!” Mary beamed. “It makes me feel like...I haven't missed as much.”

Dean pulled Mary into a hug, easily dragging Sam into it as well. It felt awesome to have a mom again (and for the first time).

~Fin~

A/N: Okay so this took forever, I’m sorry! I don’t know why but like the first three prompts were so freaking depressing, I just didn't want that. I finally finished this one (it took forever because I had to babysit as well and I just got distracted *sweat drops*) and I guess it turned out okay? I hope this was something you were looking for!

[theawkwardterrier]

In the Little Glimmers

Steggy Positivity Week, day 3 Prompt: Firsts

Summary: Parenthood is exhausting.

AO3 link here.

“Remind me again why we decided to do this?”

Weeks together in European trenches and days strategizing in underground bunkers, and Steve’s never seen Peggy look so drained. She’s still beautiful, but lipstick and curled hair are a distant memory. He knows he won’t exactly be winning any beauty contests though; he thinks he took a shower recently, but wouldn’t swear that it was actually within the last forty-eight hours.

“Expanding our family,” Steve manages around a yawn. “Every child deserves a home.” Even serum enhanced, he’s so tired that his head decides to fall back against the headboard without his permission. He doesn’t know how Peggy’s still sitting upright. He tries to force himself to stay in the same position. Hana doesn’t like to be moved while she’s eating.

“So I suppose a well-meant donation won’t suffice?” she asks idly, shifting Tomi. He doesn’t mind the movement, but he’s heavier. They trade off holding each twin, Peggy deciding whether she’d prefer her arms stiff from sitting frozen, or from holding a sweet but substantial weight.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Steve agrees. Hana whines a little, trying to find the nipple that’s fallen out of her mouth, and he focuses on her for a moment. He really has no idea how they dealt with these two, plus more, at that place.

They’d been married five years before they’d even started talking about children. Steve’s aware that it’s not the normal way of things, but he’d loved those years of learning how to be married, finding how to balance work and their time together, figuring out how to fight without anyone getting a gun aimed at them, and how to forgive without grave danger involved. He’d loved getting to spend time just the two of them. Peggy had gotten her promotions, finally gotten at least some of the respect she was owed. And eventually, just around the time Steve had started looking at the kids in the art classes he taught and thinking about raising one of his own, she had brought it up.

By then, the rumors about her had moved away from her refusing to give up her career for the sake of a family, to the idea that perhaps she couldn’t have children. As far as they know, neither of them has any issues in that area, but while Peggy had been opening herself easily to the idea of a family greater than two, the idea of pregnancy totally lacked appeal.

He can no longer remember which of them had suggested adoption, but it seemed to fit them right away. There are men, men Steve knows, who think of adoption as a last resort or even an unthinkable decision. But in Steve’s experience, parents died or left to find work or lost their houses; children found new homes all the time. Maybe it wasn’t an adoption with courts or records or shared last names, but people built families and took care of children however they could, and Steve and Peggy could better than many.

The process had been months-long, and awful. They’d gone to agencies that had frowned on the idea that Peggy would be working and Steve planned to be the one at home. They’d been to places that refused to bring any but the plumpest little cherubs for Captain and Mrs. America, until Steve had politely excused them because those babies would be scooped up regardless. They’d been to an agency that Peggy’d had to bust for the worrisome ways they found their babies, and one orphanage they’d called the board of health on because a plant shouldn’t have been allowed there, much less a child.

And then one day they’d gotten a call from a Mrs. Jenkins. They’d met her weeks before at the Catholic children’s home she ran, but she hadn’t seemed particularly enthused about the two of them.

“Thank you for coming,” she said as they once again sat down in her office. “I had thought to call you because you had mentioned that you might be open to some rather...unconventional children. We recently started looking to place a pair of twins, born several weeks ago. Their mother survived the birth, but later developed an infection. Neighbors say that her husband had been killed in an accident during the pregnancy. No one has been able to find any family, and there’s been some trouble finding the appropriate home for the two of them.”

“Why?” Peggy asked. “Is it that difficult to find people willing to take in twins together?” She traded a very brief glance with Steve; they hadn’t really discussed more than one child at first.

“No, it’s not that.” Mrs. Jenkins stood evasively and walked to the door, indicating to someone outside. Another, younger woman in a crisp uniform came in pushing a wide baby carriage, and, without even asking, took two babies from inside, placing one in Steve’s arms and one in Peggy’s.

“You might know that the general policy is to place children with families of the same race,” said Mrs. Jenkins, wringing her hands. “But as you can see, we’re having a bit of trouble figuring out what these children are…”

“What the hell does that mean?” Steve asked immediately, looking up from the baby in his arms. He thought she was a girl, but knew he might be fooled by the minute delicacy of infant features. “They’re kids.”

Mrs. Jenkins cleared her throat. “Yes, well, it’s been difficult to tell their precise–” She cleared her throat again. “Their origins, if you understand my meaning.”

Steve did know what she meant, but he didn’t care. The baby looked up at him, and he felt nearly nauseated by the thought of her growing up refused a family because no one could tuck her into a category. Her fist closed sleepily around his finger and he found himself mesmerized by the contrast in their skin tones.

“Well, I know exactly who they are,” said Peggy. She looked away from the twin in her arms, and asked Mrs. Jenkins coolly, “I assume there is paperwork for us to complete?”

They’d been sent home together a few days later, along with all the personal effects delivered from the apartment and several pamphlets of advice.

Peggy had not planned to take time off, but it quickly became apparent that it would be more difficult than she’d anticipated. The babies might sleep a considerable amount of time, but they didn’t do it sequentially, refused the schedules the doctor kept mentioning, and generally seemed to be plotting to be as disruptive as possible. Mari was actually a decent sleeper on her own, but woke up as soon as Tomi opened his mouth to cry. Tomi would fall asleep halfway through a bottle, leaving Mari to take forever to find her way back. The whole thing was exhausting.

Steve honestly didn’t know how Peggy did it, sitting up for midnight feedings with him and then waking up for work in the morning, but she’d never seemed to regret their choice. They’d gotten the chance to look through the things that had belonged to their children’s birth parents, finding birth certificates with enough information to track down who those parents had been.

Aaron Brownley was a New York boy who had served with distinction in the 92nd infantry during the war and then found a job at a magazine. Aimi Ide had grown up in Seattle, been forced into Minidoka for several years, eventually come to Philadelphia for school, and then moved to New York to work as a food scientist. They’d been married two years and she was six months pregnant when he had been killed in an auto accident.

“Look,” Peggy had said, holding up a notebook with a list of baby names in two different sets of handwriting. “They were trying to come up with names that would have their children feeling comfortable no matter where they were.”

They’d already gotten looks in the street for having what some people perceived as the ideal nuclear family gone awry. And though Steve’s instinct was to swear to sock anyone who thought the wrong thing about his kids, he had wrapped an arm around her and just said, “We’ll do the best we can. We always do.”

“Seems like our best is being...tested,” Peggy murmurs, leaning herself carefully against Steve. She has work in five hours.

“I know.” He speaks carefully, glancing down at Hana, who’s lost her suction again. “But there are good things too. See?” He tilts his eyes down so she’ll follow his gaze.

She looks to Hana first, her wide, bright eyes and sweet way she’s looking up at them in the dim light. Then Tomi, sleepier and quietly snuffling, but just as lovely, looking right at her.

Babies, she’s found, give vague, vacant muscle movements that look like smiles during a range of activities: drooling, filling a diaper, finally dropping off the sleep. But this is the first time they’ve smiled precisely like this: purposefully, because they know her, they know them, because Steve and Peggy are their parents and they’ve made them happy.

Oh, she thinks. Oh, my darlings. She looks again at the twin smiles, each it’s own tiny, beautiful thing, a taste of years of future joy. She buries her own smile in Steve’s shoulder.

She gets a total of four hours sleep that night, and everyone goes after her the next day for smiling so much, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

[daughters-and-winsisters]

Huntress- Part 9: Listen

Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E9 so warning: SPOILERS

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

In one clean hit you slammed your turned fist into the punching bag. It echoed throughout the empty halls of the bunker. You didn’t wear headphones when there was no one else around. If alone, you had to be all of your senses. There was no one else to rely on. You kept your thumbs out of your curled fists and your guard high enough to cover your face. On your toes and dodging a non-existent partner you swung another punch, a sidekick following the first blow. After almost an hour of training you stopped and leaned against the cold brick wall, taking a swig of your water whilst staring at the open space. You still hadn’t moved your Dad’s towels ready for his own session. You left them, a reminder that there was always hope.

Three days had passed. Four if you count the day Cas stayed with you. He took you home that day- Uncle Dean’s orders. Only, they never came back to the bunker. 

You hadn’t done much except call up your Dad and Uncle a few hundred times. Not one time did they answer. You’d turned to research and training, if anything you needed to be stronger at this moment. You’d considered calling Mary, but you weren’t sure what she’d be able to do that would help much. Of course you liked her, she was family after all, but if she wanted out of the Hunting life you weren’t going to be responsible for dragging her back into it. No one has the right to do that.

After changing back into your usual checked shirt, jeans and combats you boiled the kettle for a brew and slumped down in the library. Tea in hands, a book on the table and a bright lamp lighting up the pages for you were interrupted by a shadow. You mumbled a “Hey Cas.” but didn’t bring your head up. The stiff shadow was enough of a giveaway.

“Y/N, how are you?” He sounded genuinely concerned which made you look up.  “I’m okay, just trying to figure out what happened...I guess.” Your eyes glanced down to the Mythological Law book. “As am I.” He nodded seriously before adding “Have you contacted Mary?”

You took in a deep breath and leaned back in your chair “No...”

“Should we?”  You were almost annoyed Cas was asking you all the questions. How on Earth were you supposed to know?!

“I don’t know, go find out.” You snapped.  Cas left without asking twice, making you feel guilty. You didn’t mean to come across as harsh as it had sounded. Truthfully, you missed your Dad and your Uncle Dean.

They’d welcomed you into the family, even with the knowledge of you being part of the British Men Of Letters. You were immensely grateful to them and now you couldn’t help them in return. You were useless. “I’m useless...” You mumbled to yourself, resting your elbows on the table and holding your head in your hands. Strands of your hair sunk between your fingers as you stared blankly at the book.

“Why didn’t you tell me!” Mary’s angry tone filled the room. It took you a moment to realise she was asking you and not Cas. “Um...” You stumbled, lost for words “I-” “I’m their Mother, your Grandmother!” She threw her hands in the air and back down by her sides in frustration. “I know...I just...I didn’t want to bring you back into Hunting.” “These are my boys. I’ll Hunt till I die to save them.”

“Y/N, it’s me. I know you’re a little cross with me, but I don’t want us to lose contact, yeah? I’ve known you a long time now, squirt. Don’t make me track you down.” The man chuckled “You know I never didn’t like you? It’s hard coming into a family where the Misses already has a kid. You were too grown up when I married your Mum to pay attention to me, and I get that,” a few crashes sounded on the other line “Look I’ve got to head off. Give us a ring would you?” He hung up.

*Message deleted*

“Y/N, love. It’s me again. I know you’ll listen to these, you’re too curious not to. Just like your Dad, eh? Have you told him about me...about, this. It’s a difficult situation to be in for me too and I want you to understand that. Sam Winchester has a right to you, after all he’s your Dad. But, you’re still my family. Maybe not by blood, but in some ways you’re my daughter...You both were... Please Y/N, call me back.”

*Message deleted*

“Y/N, this is the last message I’m leaving, alright? I’m sorry. I’m sorry to put you through what I did. But it was only ever to get the best out of you. I changed quickly, didn’t I? I’ve always picked your side....I only wish that there weren’t any sides. Maybe you could try and get in a good word for us with them American Hunters, yeah? We’re not the bad guys, Y/N. The buggers that you Hunt are. Have a good one.”

*Message deleted*

“Y/N, we know where they are.” Cas declared, not bothering to say hello before storming into your room. You were just finishing up another training session when he did. “Really?” Your eyes grew wide. It had been over six weeks since you’d seen your Dad or Uncle Dean. Mary and Cas had done there best to keep you company but you spent most of the time in your room with your thumb hovering between the “replay message” and the “delete message” buttons.

You grabbed your gun, checked the ammo status and slipped an extra knife into your pocket for security before racing out to where Mary and Cas were waiting. “Let’s go. Seatbelt on, I drive fast.” Mary stated. You’d barely closed the car door when she started the engine and drove off.

The journey seemed to take forever with so much at stake, only with Mary’s fast driving and the help of headphones it was over quick enough. The moment the car slowed to a halt you scowled at what was in front.

Mr K and Ketch were stood leaning up against their car bonnet and soon you Mary and Cas were doing the same. Mr K gave you a nod of acknowledgement and Mick offered a sort of half smile. You cocked an eyebrow and crossed your arms.  “Any idea where Sam and Dean are?” Mick asked, getting straight to the point.

“They’ve been taken away by the Government...Lucifer was possessing the President and they-” “You’re telling me that gadget we gave you was for you taking on the bleeding Devil himself?” Mick scoffed and appeared to be aiming the question at you. “You trained me well.” You were trying to sound sarcastic but it seemed to sound more like a compliment.

“Sounds like they went to Her Majesty’s Pleasure- site 94 to be specific.” Mr K spoke proudly and held himself very seriously. “Let’s go find Site 94 then.” Mary declared, not bothering to spend any more time talking. “Of course, we’ll put a satellite on it right away.” “You can do that?” Cas squinted, becoming more and more suspicious.

“’Course, it’s our job. We collect information.” Mick nodded.

“So that’s it, you’re just going to help us?”

“There ain’t a catch?” You questioned, agreeing with Mary- it seemed to easy.

“Miss Winchester...Mary, we came over to this land for one with only, to make friends. ‘Course we’ll help you.” Mick had a way with words that made you want to question everything he said.

“Yeah okay. Let’s just go.” You rolled your eyes and got back in the car.

“We’ll lead the way.” Mr K smiled.

Once Mick and Mr K had left things had quietened down, you Mary and Cas were slowly wading through the woodlands hoping to come across your Dad and Uncle Dean. You were at the back, you had a handgun and knife in your jacket in case and also an extra blade tucked into your shoe. Thankfully the extra training you had put in meant that you weren’t at all tired even after hiking for quite some time. 

When you reached a point where you had no where to turn, you all stopped and waited. Patience had bee something you’d always had, so waiting wasn’t an issue for you. However, it didn’t seem to run in pure Winchester genes as Mary would not stop pacing back and forth. Sighing, you got up from where you were resting against a tree branch and cleared your throat “You’re gonna have dug a trench in a minute, stop moving and I’m sure they’ll be here soon.” You half joked half scolded. 

Mary paused as if having only just become aware she was doing so. “Sorry, I’ll stop.”

“It’s okay,I get that your nervous. It was just making me nervous.” You chuckled. She smiled and looked as though she was about to say something when Cas’ voice made you turn around.

“Sam...Dean!” Cas jumped into action and immediately wrapped his arms around your Dad, only letting go so that he could hug Uncle Dean.

Your Dad went on to hug his Mum, you tried to avoid anyone’s gaze and focused on watching the trees behind everyone. “Y/N.” Your Dad’s relieved voice made you glance up at him, he was smiling and before you knew it stood directly in front of you. His arms wrapped around you and almost took you off the ground. You relaxed in his grip and hugged back tightly, his hand moved so it was holding your head close to his chest and he pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead. 

“Hi Dad.” You smiled, not wanting to let go.

“Does Uncle Dean get a hug?”  You chuckled and when your Dad let go he hugged you close. “Hate to admit it, but I missed you, kid.” He winked.

“I’m sorry, you left...survivors?” Mr K clearly had a hard time saying the word. It was a taboo in his vocabulary.

“Well yeah, they were soldiers, they were just doing their job.” Your Dad explained. You knew what Mr K was thinking when he looked at you, he thought your Dad and Uncle were corrupting you. They were ‘Americanising’ you or something. You didn’t care what he thought.

“Well uh, I guess this is where you want us to say thank you..?” Uncle Dean reluctantly spoke.

“No need gents, happy to be of service.” Mick nodded appreciatively. You snorted at this, not bothering to hide it.  “Sorry, do you think otherwise? You really think I’ve got some other reason, please share with the rest of us if you do.”

“I’ll let your pathetic brain try and figure it out.” You remarked, having had enough of them bossing you around.

“Brooks!” Mr K shouted, your name echoing throughout.

“Sir.” You tilted your head a little.

“We do not speak to others with such rude language.” He lectured.

You laughed bitterly “Watch me. You’re not in charge any more so get used to it.”  Your Dad watched, ready to step in and defend you but well aware you were capable of doing it thus far.

“Have you forgotten everything? Everyone?” Mr K stepped forward, trying to show his dominance.

“Believe you and me I’ve been trying.”

“What about Max? Have you forgotten Max?” Mr K smirked, knowing he’d hit a nerve. Mick stepped forward “That’s enough, Arthur.” 

You closed your mouth and stepped forward so you were almost eye level with him. Your eyes narrowed as you prepared to hit him. “And your Mother, dearest Rebecca, have you forgotten her too?”

“Mr Ketch,” Mick spoke up, putting his hand on Mr K’s shoulder “I suggest you step down.” He shot you a glance, warning you not to say anything.

Mr K nodded. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Finish the job...I know you will.” You dared before turning on your heel and getting into the Impala, ignoring your family’s stares. Your Dad and Mary watched, curiosity and concern in their eyes, Uncle Dean looked more impressed than anything and Cas was worried, there was more to you than he first thought.

The car ride wasn’t silent like you were expecting it to be. Sam and Mary spoke, Cas and Dean spoke, you did not. You listened to them and to your music-one headphone in. “Hey Y/N.” Mary looked back slightly from the steering wheel. You glanced up as if to say yes.  “What did you mean by finish the job?” It surprised you she’d asked about that and nothing else. “He’ll kill those survivors you left.” You made sure to put emphasis on “survivors”.

“What?” Your Dad swiveled in his seat to face you. “It’s Mr K’s job to finish the job.”

Everyone looked at you, clearly confused. The way American hunting went wasn’t much like how it did back home.

“It’s his job, he erases evidence. They were training me to do the same.” You admitted “Only I had a tendency to refuse.” “Good for you.” Mary encouraged, proud to know. “I stopped refusing not that long ago when I realised Mr K would just do it anyway...I thought I could make it less painful for them. Normally I just sent them to sleep with a serum dart....” “So that’s why you’re better with snipers.” You Dad noted. “Yeah...I’m not proud of it. I’ve given up trying to come up with excuses to why it was an okay thing to do.”��

“You were just doing what you’d always done.” Cas assured you however you shook your head. “No...I was just too scared to do anything else.”

Before anyone else had a chance to say something the radio switched between channels, staccato voices jumping with the stations while the car slowed to a halt. You frowned when Your Dad shared a look with Uncle Dean. “What’s happening?” Mary questioned as you all slowly got out of Baby.

“Yeah Dean,” a familiar voice answered for your Uncle “sup?”  Billy, the reaper, tilted her head and smirked.

“Look, Mom,” Dean stepped in front of you all “That place...I’ve been to hell and this was worse. There was only one way of getting out, and that wasn’t by staying alive.” Uncle Dean explained. “At least this way one of us gets to keep on fighting.” Your Dad agreed.

“By Midnight, a Winchester goes bye bye...for good.” Billy smiled “Believe me that’s something I’ve wanted for a long time.” You glanced at the gun Mary was reaching for and thought about getting your own one out. “Before you think about it,” Billy looked at you “You might owe me, but not your life. Besides, I don’t want half-Winchesters.” You glared at her.

“Then why not me.” Mary raised a gun to her head, immediately Uncle Dean and Dad stepped forward in protest, however their bodies were thrown back. “Works for me.” Billy explained, her eyes wide and readying.

Mary’s voice was shaking when she spoke “I love you, all of you.” Her eyes were glistening with tears. You were frozen on the spot, maybe because of Billy yet maybe because of your own fear. “Mary-” You tried to think of something to say. “No, Y/N. This is the right thing to do.”

“It sure is, if you break this pact then there are consequences on a cosmic scale,” Billy explained “this is the right thing-”

Suddenly Castiel appeared behind the Reaper and dug a blade into her chest, her body lit up from the inside and cries of pain replaced her smile. Her body fell limp to the floor. Mary put the gun at her side, Uncle Dean and Dad lifted themselves from the floor and Cas stood in front, ready to defend his choices.

“Cas what have you done?” Uncle Dean gasped.

Cas looked up, his breathing heavy and his eyes serious: “What had to be done...This world, this sad doomed little world, it needs you, it needs every last Winchester it can get and I will not let you die I won’t let any of you die.” He looked at you “And I won’t let you sacrifice yourselves you mean too much to me. To everything.”

Everyone was silent, all eyes were on the Angel.

“Yeah you made a deal,” He continued “You made a stupid deal and I broke it. You’re welcome.”

Let me paint you a picture.

Of a world without monsters or demons, or any of those little buggers that go bump in the night. Of a world where no one has to die because of the supernatural. A new world. A better world. 

Are you listening?

Part 10- Patience

I do not own these gifs

Aye look at me I wrote a thing. Sorry it’s a little late but I really enjoyed writing this part so I ope that comes across when you read it. Thanks for reading! 

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