#john mixing pills in dean’s drinks or food

[sweetpapercroissant]

ok weirdcest deanjohn where john doesn’t let dean have a kid. and he tells himself (and dean) that it’s because it would only complicate matters, interfere with the mission but really it’s because he doesn’t want dean to have another family, to divide his loyalty or even take it away from him completely.

[autisticandroids]

Okay so this was a while back but im preety sure you had mentioned an au of yours where dean is a serial killer and cas successfully stalks him but i don't think you talked about it more than that and i just really want to hear a bit more bc that idea sounds so tastefully fucked up

okay so. weeks later i finally end up answering this ask. it inspired this post btw. anyway spn is a show that's like. all about justifications, as i said in the post inspired by this ask. it's about having no choice and doing what you have to do. and like there is the phantasy embedded in it, a phantasy that is both indulged and punished. but most importantly it's justified. the monsters are super strong to show how brave our heroes are for fighting them, the main characters let out great wails of grief every time their lady loves are violently ripped from them (even though now they are free to do whatever they want), the narrative twists to show our heroes as correct whatever they do. the fantasy (of being allowed to enact violence, of being free from feminine "control," of being right) comes first. the material construction of the universe of supernatural comes afterward. whatever the fantasy is, the universe of supernatural will provide material conditions to justify its acting-out.

and what this means is that our protagonists, dean in particular, are constantly doing just horrific things, which in any other circumstance would be unconscionable. but the universe of supernatural provides justification for these acts. the point of my serial killer au which i think about so so so much is to ask the question: what if these justifications melted out from under their feet? what if dean was left holding nothing but a lie and the weight of everything he's done?

therefore, the premise of my au is such (under the cut because this baby is long):

john and mary winchester, in the mid seventies, joined a doomsday cult known as the men of letters. the men of letters were rather unusual for a doomsday cult, in that they believed that the apocalypse could be prevented by human behavior. this started as correct living, correct worship, yadda yadda, the kind of behavior and thought control that cults are known for, but with the justification of: if you don't do this, the world will end. eventually, this escalated to human sacrifice. the men of letters managed to untraceably kill two homeless people in the late seventies. but they eventually fell apart. however, a month after john and mary left the men of letters (mostly john's choice, mary still believed), mary died in a house fire. john took it as a sign from god that actually, the men of letters were right, and the world would end unless john himself did something about it. so he took some of the (intensely numerological) theology of the men of letters. and he worked out his own formula. and he applied it to the yellow pages. and started ritualistically killed people to prevent the apocalypse, with his two sons in the back of the car.

now, obviously, this is some kind of grief induced temporary madness on john's part, shaped by the mental abuse he suffered in the men of letters. but the thing is, once you've killed a couple of people to prevent the apocalypse. well. there's this thing called the sunk costs fallacy. john wasn't gonna question his own beliefs after that.

and he raised his boys to believe it, too, or at least he raised dean to. they didn't tell sam what they did until he was twelve, and sam didn't buy it, tried to call the cops on them several times but in the end, they always prevented him. eventually sam ran off to stanford, where he now lives under a cloud of guilt that he's too loyal to his family to rat them out.

john died a few years back of a heart attack, but dean is convinced it's because he messed up a ritual two weeks before it happened, so it pushed him further into this belief system.

dean's killings (and john's before him) are ritualistic and distinctive, obviously the same killer each time. but they happen anywhere in the united states, seemingly at random, there are inconsistent amounts of time between each one (sometimes as short as days, sometimes as long as years), and there is no particular victim profile. obviously, since our killers are following an arcane mathematical formula to make their choices for them, but the police don't know that.

castiel novak is an unemployed shut-in with a small inheritance which he's living off of, a cryptography degree, and an obsession with all things morbid. he spends most of his time on the reddit true crime forums, playing amateur sleuth. by complete chance, he happens to recognize one of the symbols frequently used in corpse displays by the so-called sioux falls satanic slaughterer (so named because the first time three of his victims were in the same part of the country, it so happened that they were all in sioux falls, south dakota. this was in the late eighties.) as being mostly only used by a little known cult group called the men of letters, which dissolved in the mid eighties.

he only notices this because, as a teen, he had a special interest in cults and fringe religious groups. the men of letters weren't a particularly notable or well known phenomenon; they were small, and a lot like every other cult that formed during the seventies cult boom. (no outsider ever heard about the human sacrifice; there were rumors, of course, but they were garbled, sensationalized, and mixed up with satanic panic fodder.)

(the men of letters' two sacrifices were nothing particularly romantic or fantastical. they first lured panhandler josie sands back to their compound with promises of food and a warm bed when she admitted she couldn't get a bed at a shelter, and was thinking of getting caught shoplifting just so she could be under a roof in the county jail. the men of letters' leader, a man who took on the name alistair, forced his inner circle to dress in the ceremonial black robes he had given them when he initiated them into his nearest and dearest, and which his wife had sewn out of old bed sheets and dyed black with home made oak gall dye. these robes still left black smudges on the wearer's skin occasionally if they sweated too much. josie was laid, bound, on the altar, a slapdash thing constructed over the course of two days from scrap plywood and a couple of milk crates. a rich red tablecloth purchased at macy's for $3.99 hid its ugliness and gave it grandeur. alistair attempted to kill the struggling miss sands by bringing a sharpened kitchen knife down on her bosom and piercing her heart, but, having never killed a human or even slaughtered an animal before, was unaware of the problem presented by the human ribcage. after rather ineffectually poking at the area beneath sands' bosom with his knife while she shrieked in pain and terror for about ninety seconds, alistair tried a different tack, and slit her throat, which worked just fine, and she bled out quite nicely. the second and final victim of the men of letters was a local vagrant named larry ganem, an older gentleman who walked with a limp. he was lured back to the compound in approximately the same manner as sands, but instead of being bound, he was fed stew laced with sleeping pills. even if alistair hadn't slit his throat, he wouldn't have woken up. it's actually arguable whether he was still alive at time of sacrifice; mary winchester (eight months into her first pregnancy), who, as a member of the inner circle, was in attendance, actually tried to take ganem's pulse as he lay on the altar (now covered by a different tablecloth; the red one had turned stiff with sands' blood and been subsequently burned) and found nothing, so it is entirely possibly only sands' death can be directly laid at alistair's feet, and ganem's is the fault of mrs. ellen harvelle, who prepared the laced stew. regardless, these two deaths are lessons in the nature of human evil: it is very rarely skilled, suave, or smooth. it's often slapdash, half-hearted, and just plain incompetent. but that makes it no less grisly. alistair may have begun to drink his own kool-aid, as it were, and escalated this far out of genuine belief that the apocalypse was coming and it was up to him to stop it, but it is far more likely that he sensed the imminent collapse of his little empire, and wanted to bind his subjects to him through the horrors of shared guilt, considering two lives a small price to pay for the continued loyalty of his inner circle. and the tactic worked: the men of letters didn't start to collapse in earnest until almost four years later. perhaps if alistair had continued the killings, the men of letters could have lasted for far longer, maybe even up until the present day. but it seems that alistair, a psychiatrist by training and unused to violence, simply didn't have the stomach for it. unlike, say, john winchester, who before his time with the men of letters had done a two year tour in vietnam, during which he had killed three living, thinking human beings with the american government's go-ahead.)

anyway. castiel is the first person, ever, to make the connection between the men of letters and the sioux falls satanic slaughterer. and once that connection is made, castiel begins to research the men of letters far more in-depth. and he notices something: the theology of the men of letters was intensely numerological, filled with patterns, significant numbers, and even spiritual equations.

castiel thinks of the seemingly random selection of the slaughterer's victims, and has an epiphany.

he cracks all his fingers, and gets coding.

six months. it takes castiel six months to discover an equation that could fit the slaughterer's pattern. it's complex, but also clearly based on several of the men of letters' holy numbers, and accounts for every single one of the killings. it also suggests that there should have been two or three more deaths scattered across the years, but more than likely those did happen, it's just that they weren't reported as part of the slaughterer's portfolio.

but much more importantly, castiel's model can also make predictions. there will be two killings, fifteen days apart, in a city seven hours' drive away, six weeks from now.

so castiel waits. and he books a hotel room. and two months later, he's waiting outside 217 oak street when a shadowy figure climbs up a tree and lets itself into the upstairs window.

dean winchester is feeling particularly all alone in the world when he breaks into maisey banks' home (217 oak street). his father has been dead for half a decade, and he hasn't spoken to his baby brother for twice that. it's not like this whole grizzly saving the world business makes him a lot of friends. so once he's done killing maisey (which is easy, she was ninety three and dying of cancer anyway. she doesn't even wake up when he slits her throat) and arranging her corpse in the appropriate manner, with prayers and sigils, he turns around. and sees a man standing behind him.

smiling slightly.

as he watches dean gut this old woman.

dean freezes.

the man takes a step forward.

"you're very attractive for a serial killer who's been operating since the eighties."

dean is silent.

"family business, is it?"

silence continues.

"i'm not here to report you to police. i'm just here to see if my algorithm worked right."

and dean finally breaks his silence: "what the hell is wrong with you?"

what's fun here is that dean knows (or rather "knows") that he isn't a serial killer. so he finds what cas is doing, this amoral serial killer stormchasing, morally repugnant. because cas has no way of knowing he isn't a regular serial killer.

there's also the fact that that cas proceeds to flirt with him. aggressively. and follows him back to his motel.

but the thing is that dean is all alone in the world. and as cas continues trailing him around, he starts getting, well, flattered. and feeling a little bit less alone.

it doesn't take very long before they fall into bed. even if cas is an amoral stalker with a fetish for what dean considers a distasteful yet necessary vocation.

so. they fall into bed. they fall in love. they make a little life together, in dean's big sexy car. dean tries to explain to cas that he's saving the world. that these people's lives are a necessary price to pay. and cas seems to listen.

of course, castiel doesn't believe a word of it. but he's found that he likes dean. really likes him. and he realizes that the collapse of dean's belief system would destroy him.

so he sets about becoming as complicit in it as possible.

even to the extent where, when dean is hit by a car and ends up into the hospital a day before one killing is meant to take place, castiel agrees to take on the job. (he doesn't actually kill anyone, obviously. but he does use his extensive skill with computers to create three fake newspaper articles which make it look like he has.)

but five years later, something goes wrong. really, really wrong. dean miscalculates the formula. and by the time he checks his work, the actual date of the next kill, as demanded by the formula, has passed. in fact, so have three others. and the world didn't end.

dean collapses. he hyperventilates. all those people. all those people. for no reason. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people.

cas seems totally unfazed. dean stares at him in shock. but cas just takes dean in his arms, and whispers in his ear: "oh, dean, i never believed in the equation. i love you no matter what you've done."

and dean buries his face in cas' chest.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

John B x reader

Summary: You end up pregnant and because John B’s life was already hard, you didn’t want to make it any worse so you keep it from him. However, after a tense night at the boneyard, everything comes slipping out. 

A/N: This is my first obx fic, I hope you guys like it!! I’ll post the rest of the obx fics/requests I have tomorrow (Thursday). 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx 

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Your eyes stare at the two pink lines. Positive. How could you and John B let this happen? You’d been careful. You used protection and you were on birth control, something your mother had you put on after she found out you were dating John B, a pogue. Your mother warned you about pregnancy and strongly urged you to use protection. Your family’s reputation would not be able to handle a pregnancy caused by a pogue. The reputation was already beginning to crack after they found out about you and him, this would completely ruin it.

Your mind then went to John B and his life. He was living alone at 18. His dad disappeared in a boating accident years ago and he was barely scrapping by. His life was already hard and to throw a baby into the mix? It would be even worse for him. You couldn’t do that to him. Especially, since your family would disown you and kick you out, leaving you to live with John B. However, this was John B’s baby and he deserved to know. He would want to know you were carrying his child. You knew he was going to be a good father, no doubt about it.   

Gathering yourself from you white tiled bathroom floor, you stood in the mirror and wiped your eyes, washing the mascara from your face and headed to the Chateau.

~

When you arrived, you let out a sigh of relief to only see John B’s van. Kie’s car or JJ’s bike no where in sight. You stepped out of your car and headed inside.

“John B?” You called out, but there was no answer. You stepped through the house, checking in the rooms, but no John B. You checked the time; he’d be home from working at the dock by now. So, where was he?

You stepped off the screen porch and looked around the yard when you heard a boat motor. As you headed down to the dock, there was John B, pulling up in HMS Pogue. He must have gone for an evening drive.

“Hey.” You gave a small smile and a wave, stepping to the end of the dock as he pulled the boat closer to the edge.

He threw you the rope to tie off the boat, “Hey, what are you doing here?”

You bent down and tied off the boat, “I needed to talk with you about something.” After tying off the boat, you stood and wiped your hands on your jeans.

As he stepped off the boat and onto the dock, you could see the weight of the world on his shoulders, “Can it wait? I’ve had a shitty day.” He sighs and sits down on the bench, running his hands through his hair.

You frowned and nodded, “What’s wrong? Do you want to want to talk about it?” You take a seat next to him and put a loving hand on his thigh.

He holds his head in his hands, “They’ve cut back my hours on the dock, which means I won’t be able make enough to pay bills, so I have to find another job.”

And that is when you knew, you couldn’t tell him about the baby.

~

It had been a few weeks, John B had yet to find a second job and you had yet to tell him about the baby. It was Kie who found out about the pregnancy first. You didn’t mean for it to happen but she’d come over to drop something off and found you sobbing in the bathroom floor. She was your best friend and you knew there was no lying to her.

“I’m pregnant, Kie.” You sobbed into your hands.

She immediately pulled you into her arms as you two sat on the bathroom floor. She let you sob for as long as you needed, “Does John B know?”

You shook your head and quickly pulled away to look at her, “He can’t know Kie. You can’t tell him. Please.”

She sadly nods, “Okay, I won’t.” It wasn’t her secret to tell.

~

You didn’t want to go to the Boneyard for a party, but John B begged you to come. He’d finally found another job and wanted to celebrate. As you and the pogues were situated around a fire, you sat next to Kie, who was telling you about her horrible date, when John B came stumbling over.

“Hey y/n.” He slurs, two cups in his hands, “Here drink up.”

You glanced at Kie and then back up at John B, “I’m okay John B. I don’t feel like drinking tonight.”

He narrows his eyes at you, “You don’t ever feel like drinking. You don’t feel like doing anything anymore! All you do is sit around on your little kook ass crying about the dumbest shit!”

Your eyes sting with tears. It had been a rough couple of weeks. Your hormones were horrible and all over the place and you had terrible morning sickness lasting through out the day.

“John B.” Kie snapped, “Don’t be an ass!”

He looks at Kie then back at you, noticing the tears, “There she goes now with the damn water works.” He shakes his head and finishes off his drink with a gulp, tossing the cup in the trash.

You stand, “John B I think it’s time for you to stop. You’ve had enough..” You go to grab the other drink in his hand but he smacks your hand away.

“Don’t touch my fucking drink.”

You put your hands up defensively, Kie standing at your side as JJ and Pope make their way over seeing all the commotion.

“You sit all high and mighty in that big ass house of yours while the rest of us pogues bust our asses to put food on the table!” He points a finger at you.

‘he’s just drunk. He’s just drunk and doesn’t mean those things.’ You repeat in your head, but your hormones are already raging and another tear slips down your face. This is what sends John B into a fit.

“And there you are with those damn tears again! What do you have to cry about?! You’ve never worked a day in your life and you probably never will!”

“I’m pregnant John B. That’s why I cry all the time! That’s why I don’t drink anymore or I’m always sick!” Tears are steadily falling and Kie puts an hand on your back.

John B is taken back by this information and stumbles back a little, “P-pregnant?” He shakes his head, the alcohol making his head spin. “There isn’t no fucking way you’re pregnant.” His eyes snap to you, “We used protection. You were on the pill. That isn’t my baby.” He points to your stomach. The next thing that happens is something none of the pogues saw coming. He tosses the drink in your face, the beer splashing on your face and down the front of your clothes.

Everything else happened so fast. Suddenly, JJ was protectively in front of you, grabbing at John B and yelling at him. Kie is cussing at John B and trying to get napkins to wipe up your face.

JJ and Pope drag John B off toward the van, still cussing and yelling at him for what he did.

“Are you okay?” Kie asks, wiping the beer off your face.

You shake your head and let out a sob.

“Oh sweetie..” She wraps her arms around you in a hug, “He was just drunk, you know that he didn’t mean any of it.”

~

Kie drove you home that night and made sure you were okay before leaving. JJ and Pope took John B back to the Chateau where John B finally passed out on the couch. They didn’t leave either, they wanted to be the first to tell John B how much he fucked up after he woke up the next morning.

~

You slept in the next morning, never leaving the bed. Kie came over and hung out but never once mentioned John B. Not like you wanted to hear about him anyways. Maybe your mother was right, dating a pogue was wrong.

~

Back at the Chateau, he knew he’d fucked up. The next morning after the outburst, JJ and Pope were quick to tell him everything that happened, how he’d drank too much, snapped on you, the pregnancy announcement and the throwing of the drink.

“Oh I fucked up.” John B groans, running his hands through his hair, “I need to go see her.” He starts to walk out but Pope grabs his arm, “Kie called from her house. She doesn’t want to see you.”

He shook Pope’s arm off, “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

When he arrived at your house, Kie’s car was still in the driveway. Kie was never going to let you see him. He sighs and knocks on the door. To no surprise, Kie opens the door.

“She doesn’t want to see you John B.”

“I know Kie, I fucked up but please, I have to apologize.” He begs.

She shakes her head and goes to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot, “Kie, Please!”

You slowly make your way down the stairs, wrapped in a blanket, “Kie?”

Kie turns around, “He’s leaving, it’s okay.”

John B looks passed Kie and looks at your appearance. He can see you’ve been crying all night. Your eyes are swollen and red. And you’re wrapped in your favorite fluffy blanket, one only used when things were bad, “Y/n please… I’m sorry.” His eyes are pleading as he begs.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you as you walk behind Kie, “It’s okay, Kie…” You give a small smile at her and she nods before heading back to your room. Pushing John B out of the house you close the door behind you and sit on one of the white rocking chairs. “Well?”

He quickly takes a seat next to you, “I’m sorry about last night. I was a complete asshole.”

You laugh halfheartedly, “Asshole? That was more than being an asshole John B. You snapped on me and said mean things and you threw a drink in my face.”

His face falls, “I know. And I don’t know what got into me. I got scared when you said you were pregnant. I was already stressed and had finally found a second job then you say you’re pregnant? I can barely take care of myself, let alone another human being.”

“You don’t think I’m stressed out? I can’t take care of another human being either! You’re not the only one in this John B.”

He sighs, nodding, “I know and I should have never reacted the way I did.” He stands from the chair and steps in front of you, bending his knees so he’s eye level with you. He puts a loving hand on your knee, “I will take care of you and our baby, no matter what. Okay?”

You sniff, another round of tears filling your eyes, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

His heart breaks when he sees the look in your eye. They’re filled with regret and sadness. “Hey.. I know that.” He rubs his thumb along your cheek, “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. This is on both of us, not just you. It was an accident and that’s okay. We’re going to go through this together. I’m going to be there every step of the way, alright?”

You sniffle and nod, before standing up and walking right into his open arms. He kisses the top of your head, “We’re going to be parents.” He whispers and gives you a small squeeze. Suddenly the thought of having a baby pogue, half you, half him running around made his heart swell. It was earlier than he would have hoped. He wanted to have a steady job. He wanted to marry you first and then start a family but looks like he’d have to do things another way and that was okay.

~

Few weeks went by. You were now 3 months pregnant, no baby bump yet. You’d asked Kie to accompany you to one of the appointments because John B said he had to work and couldn’t make it. You two had made a day of it, stopping for lunch and did some shopping around town. Now, you two were on your way home. You decided you’d wait at the Chateau for John B until he got off work.

“Can you take me by John B’s?” You ask, looking over at Kie.

“yeah sure.” She nods, turning off a side street and heading toward the Chateau.

~

When you arrive, his van is parked by the house along with JJ’s bike. “Thought he was at work?” She asks, turning off the car.

“Yeah I did too..” you mutter before getting out of the car. The two of you head up on the front porch; the door is open and it sounds like JJ and John B are arguing.

“That’s not the right part, JJ! It’s this one.”

“Dude, I’m not a rocket scientist.”

“This has to be perfect.”

You look at Kie, who shrugs, so the two of you walk into the house and to the office where John B’s dad kept all his treasures and research. However, the room isn’t filled with his dad’s things anymore. It was empty. The walls had been painted a light grey and there were baby animals hung around the room. In the middle of the room sat John B and JJ, half of a crib up, the rest of the parts were strewed around them.

Your eyes swelled with tears, “John B..”

His head snapped up to you, oh shit. He’d lied to you about work and now was caught right in the middle of it.

“I’m just gonna.. go outside.” JJ quickly stands and follows Kie out, leaving you and John B in the room.

He slowly stands, “I wanted it to be a surprise… this is the nursery.. for our baby.”

Your let out a small sob, admiring the room, “It’s amazing!”  

His face lights up, “Really? You like it?”

“Like it? I love it John B!” You smile, turning around to face him, frowning, “But all your dad’s stuff.”

He nods, “In the shed. I figured he wouldn’t mind his grandchild having this room..”

You look at the décor and then the crib, “How could you afford all this?”

“I had some savings set aside for something else. But I knew this was more important.” He steps over to you, “Do you like the color? I can change it if you don’t like it. It’s just the guy at the paint shop said grey was a neutral color since I didn’t know the gender.”

You quickly shook your head and smiled, “No, it’s perfect. All of it.. is perfect.” Your hand digs into your back pocket and pull out the ultrasound photo.

“New ultrasound photo?” He asks as you hand it to him.

You point to the little bean in the photo, “Size of a plum now.” You giggle a little.

He chuckles, looking over the photo, “Size of a plum..”

You nod, “Doctor said baby was healthy and growing just fine. And the mother was doing great too.” You laugh a little.  

He smiles, “Can I keep this one? I want to put it with my others” He’d kept the photos from the first ultrasound, hung on the fridge and in the van. He was proud and would show of the photo anytime someone entered in the Chateau or even the van. “We know John B, we saw the photo in the van.” The pogues would mutter.

“Sure. I have another one in the car. That’s your copy.”

His hand slips around your waist and pulls you into his side, his free hand going to your tummy, “My little family…”

OBX Tag list: @emmalvei-blog​ , @tregua-oca​ , @weirdbiwitch​ , @losers-club6​

[route22ny]

Once it reaches the Great Lakes Water Authority's (GLWA) treatment plants, water is pulled from the mix, sanitized, and discharged into the Detroit River. What's left behind at the treatment plants is sewage sludge — a highly toxic, semi-solid blend of human feces and every pollutant that was discharged into the sewers.          

Despite the fact that it teems with potentially dangerous chemicals, the sludge is then spread on farmland.        

Nutrients in human excrement, like phosphorus and nitrogen, help plants grow, so sewerage departments across the country lightly treat sludge and repackage it as a fertilizer called "biosolids" that are given away or sold for cheap to farmers.        

Biosolids are a "valuable resource" that has been "shown to produce significant improvements in crop growth and yield," according to the Environmental Protection Agency, which approved the practice in the mid-1990s. By 2018, more than 50% of the approximately 130 million wet tons of sludge the nation produced annually was applied to farmland.          

But the practice is increasingly controversial. Public health advocates say any amount of the approximately 90,000 synthetic chemicals in existence, from VOCs to BPAs to PCBs, can be represented in sludge. It can also be packed with superbugs, parasites, worms, hormones, viruses, and bacteria that aren't killed in the treatment process.          

Studies show the pollutants are carried to farmland, taken up by crops, and can end up on dinner plates. That's fueling a growing number of biosolid-linked public-health crises that are making people sick, polluting drinking water, and pitting farmer against farmer.          

In Michigan, officials are discovering sludge packed with toxic PFAS, and a growing alliance of farmers, public health advocates, and environmentalists are calling for a ban on spreading the substance on cropland.          

"The best solution is to get this stuff off the market," says Christy McGillivray, legislative director of the Sierra Club of Michigan. "Anything that was flushed down the toilet — any hazardous chemical that we use in our everyday systems — winds up in a wastewater treatment plant, so there are a lot of questions about biosolids' safety."          

Municipalities in Michigan, Wisconsin, and Florida, among others, have prohibited biosolids, while Maine has restricted their use. In 2003, Switzerland became the first country to outlaw them, and businesses like Whole Foods and Del Monte tell Metro Times they won't buy crops grown in sludge.          

But the powerful waste-management industry and regulators are resistant to prohibition. Sludge is an expensive byproduct that's difficult to dispose of, and selling it to farmers is a cheap solution to the problem. In a statement to Metro Times, the GLWA — which churns out more biosolids than any of the nation's other sewerage authorities — insisted its sludge is safe.          

Though state regulators "expect" PFAS to be present in sludge, Scott Dean, a spokesman with the Michigan Department of Environment, Great Lakes, and Energy (EGLE), downplayed the threat to human health.          

"Due to the fact that biosolids themselves are applied in low amounts in relation to the soil mass in a farm field, they would not be expected to accumulate to the extent to cause adverse effects to public health or the environment," he said.         

He noted that EGLE is forcing many PFAS polluters to stop discharging the chemical into sewers, but the state doesn't plan to test for most of the other 90,000 chemicals that exist.        

                           'You're going to drop dead'                                                         

In a scathing 2018 report, the EPA's Office Of Inspector General wrote that it found 352 contaminants, including 61 it classified as "acutely hazardous, hazardous, or priority pollutants" in biosolids it tested. Among other substances, it detected PFAS, pharmaceuticals, steroids, and flame retardants.          

Despite the potential for high toxicity, federal law only requires wastewater treatment plants to consistently monitor for nine heavy metals, intermittently test for other contaminants and kill most pathogens and living organisms by using heat or dolomitic lime. The latter lowers the ph to make it more acidic and inhospitable to organisms.          

The EPA's OIG found the agency can't properly regulate sludge because it doesn't have the tools to assess the safety of all the other pollutants found in biosolids.          

"Biosolids [have] everything that goes down the drain from funeral homes to slaughterhouses to everyone's toilet that's hooked up to the sewer system," says David Lewis, a former EPA microbiologist opposed to the use of biosolids. "All of these things are unsafe, according to scientific literature, so how does adding lime and putting it on land make it safe?"          

Moreover, individual chemicals that aren't dangerous on their own can become toxic when mixed. Lewis likens the situation to going into a pharmacy, grabbing different bottles off the shelf, and swallowing pills.          

"You're going to drop dead, and that's what we're doing with sludge," Lewis says.          

A growing body of evidence highlights the risks. A 2013 University of North Carolina study found 75% of people living near farms that spread biosolids experienced health issues like burning eyes, nausea, vomiting, boils, and rashes. A University of Georgia study found similar issues, while others living near sludge fields have contracted MRSA, a penicillin-resistant "superbug."        

Lewis investigated two deaths near fields where sludge was spread and found that the substance triggered reactions that killed the two people. More recently, he's linked the substance to autism.          

In Georgia, sludge killed an entire herd of cows. In Maine and New Mexico, farmers last year had to put down herds of cows found to be filled with PFAS and producing toxic milk. Last week, officials in Maine discovered cows teeming with the highest levels of PFAS ever found in the animals. Meanwhile, biosolid treatment centers are sources of air and water pollution — the substance is thought to be partly responsible for toxic algae blooms in the Great Lakes and Florida.          

                              A brief history of sewage sludge                                                          

Before the 1973 Clean Water Act (CWA), industry discharged its waste directly into the nation's waterways. Rivers became so polluted that those in industrial regions like Michigan and Ohio regularly caught fire.          

The CWA mandated a proliferation of wastewater treatment plants that would take in human and industrial waste via the nation's expanding sewer system, then spit out clean water into its rivers.          

America's waters quit burning, but the solution presented a new problem — sewage sludge. At first, it was dropped in the ocean, but that created large dead zones. Then industry tried burning it, but that often violated the Clean Air Act.          

Despite the fact that sludge was too toxic for the ocean or air, the EPA in 1993 approved a rule change that would allow it to be spread on farmland. Lewis says scientists at the agency uniformly opposed the idea, but leadership pressed forward with approval.          

"Not a single study demonstrated that this practice was safe," he adds.          

These days, when sludge isn't spread on farmland, it's either landfilled or, in some cases, incinerated with pollution controls.          

                                 Raising a stink in rural Michigan                                                           

Several years ago, Yankee Springs resident Willard Case made an alarming discovery — nitrate levels in his property's wells had spiked.          

While nitrates are found naturally in groundwater, and at low levels aren't a problem, high levels can cause health problems, especially for children and pregnant women. Case contacted local health authorities, but says they only instructed him to dig more wells to find clean water.          

However, his attempts to do so only yielded contaminated water, and Case says the source of the contamination is obvious: A neighboring business had applied one million gallons of sludge to its property, while two other farmers in the small farm town 35 minutes south of Grand Rapids filled their fields with biosolids.          

Case says he contacted EGLE and the agency found PFAS in the sludge, but it isn't initiating a cleanup. It tested for PFAS, but Case says he's worried about other chemicals that could be in the biosolids or in his well. He calls the situation "disturbing."          

"They're only checking for PFAS because that's the loudest bell ringing, but I think there are other chemicals in there," Case says. "They're injecting the ground with this stuff and impregnating it with chemicals that we can't control. We're going to lose these beautiful farm fields."          

Case's problems with his neighbors' sludge is emblematic of the types of disputes playing out in rural areas across Michigan. Neighbors of farmers who spread sludge say they fear well contamination and pollution of local waterways that serve entire farm communities. Several farmers told Metro Times that the smell is terrible. Don Dickerson, a farmer with land in Michigan and Ohio, said he found his home and property coated in sludge dust after his neighbor applied it.                                  

While Michigan municipalities can't specifically prohibit farmers from spreading sludge, Summerfield Township, which sits about 20 miles west of Monroe, passed a broad waste disposal ordinance that covers potential contamination and is applicable to all industries.          

Summerfield Township Supervisor John Chandler says the township's leaders are responding to a public health need and demand from residents who don't want it spread near their homes.          

"Maybe sludge is safe and maybe it's not so safe," Chandler says. "But it's too risky. We stand on that as a township, and say 'Go spread it somewhere else' because we don't want it here. Nobody I know is for sludge, and I would say anybody who would be for it is likely a farmer who wants free fertilizer."          

The earth in the region around Summerfield is cracked and filled with sinkholes, Chandler adds, and that makes sludge especially risky in terms of contaminating groundwater and wells.          

"My worry is what the heck is in it?" Chandler asks. "And how would you ever remediate that?"          

Is free fertilizer worth the cost and risk?         

Case says there's too much at stake.                                  

"It's crazy — they're playing Russian roulette with our health," he says.          

                                    PFAS: A farm-to-table toxin                                                            

For years, Michigan regulators told residents that biosolids were safe as farmers unknowingly spread PFAS-laden sludge on cropland. Then it became clear that PFAS presents a threat to human health.          

Over the last two years, EGLE discovered PFAS in sludge at 41 wastewater treatment plants, but the agency has only tested about a quarter of the state's 400 facilities. It ultimately ordered five plants to stop sending sludge to farmers.          

Public health advocates say the PFAS issue highlights biosolids' fundamental problem — no one knows what other dangerous chemicals are lurking in it.          

"Regulators completely miss emerging contaminants — like PFAS — as well as pharmaceuticals and a whole host of other chemicals used widely today that find their way into crops," says Colin O'Neil, legislative director at Environmental Working Group, which tracks PFAS contamination.          

PFAS, or per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, are toxic chemicals used to make a wide range of products water- and stain-resistant. About 7,500 varieties exist, and those that have been studied are linked to cancer, thyroid disorders, autoimmune disorders, deformities in newborns, liver disease, and a range of other serious health issues.          

Current surface water recommendations are set at 70 parts per trillion for PFOS and PFOA — two types of PFAS — in drinking water. In sludge, the state has found an alarming median of nearly 70,000 ppt in sludge, though there are no environmental quality standards for biosolids.          

State records pulled from the MIWaters website show how the dangerous chemicals can make their way from industry to Michiganders' food.          

In November 2018, a US Ecology-owned toxic-waste landfill in Van Buren Township discharged water with PFOS levels as high as 60 ppt. Records show neighboring landfills sent out water with levels as high as 420 ppt.          

En route to a wastewater treatment plant, that mixed with PFAS-laden discharge from the region's other industries. The plant treated the sludge and produced biosolids with 25 different types of PFAS totaling over 32,000 ppt.          

The biosolids were then shipped out to farmers and spread onto cropland or sent to landfills. Though there are no limits on PFAS in biosolids, the 32,000 ppt should raise alarm, O'Neil says.          

"Where they're finding PFAS, [farmers] need to be alerted to that fact, as that might inform whether or not they choose to spread biosolids on the farm in the first place," he says.          

In a written statement to Metro Times, Dean says EGLE doesn't directly alert farmers when high levels of the chemicals are found in sludge.          

                          'We can all surmise that it's not good'                                                             

So how much PFAS and other dangerous contaminants ultimately make it to our food? That's unclear, but there's evidence that it does, and that's especially true for PFAS, which easily move through the environment.          

Still, regulators haven't acted quickly, and there's no clear picture of the health impact, says Denise Trabbic-Pointer, a former DuPont chemist who now tracks PFAS contamination for the Sierra Club.          

"We can all surmise that it's not good, but nobody knows what the number is," she says. "I wish that [regulators] would put a little more effort into looking at it, worrying about it, and following through on it."          

A recent veterinary study found that sludge caused reproductive problems in sheep grazing in fields on which farmers spread sludge. The findings "highlight potential risks" for humans and animals, said Dr. Richard Lea, the study's author.        

"There are quite worrying implications for female fertility in the human," he wrote, adding that "there's a very high chance" that the chemicals would end up in humans who eat the meat.          

Researchers found the sheep had absorbed high levels of phthalates and PCBs, which each cause a range of serious health problems like cancer and early puberty in children.          

Multiple other studies found pharmaceuticals and other chemicals in plants grown in sludge.          

In Maine, farmers who spread biosolids on a cattle farm have blood with the highest PFAS levels on record in a Maine resident.          

Even though Michigan agriculture officials have acknowledged that PFAS are in the state's cows, an official said last year that regulators won't test milk, for fear of the damage it could do to the dairy industry.          

                                          Safe sludge?                                                             

EGLE's Dean, however, notes that the state is taking some serious steps to reduce PFAS levels in sludge. In some cases, PFOA and PFOS levels dropped by about 90% after EGLE identified industries discharging the chemicals into sewers and required them to stop doing so.          

EGLE is also testing fields on which contaminated biosolids have been spread to determine how much PFAS is in soil and crops. That will give regulators a clearer picture of how much of the chemical moves from the sewer to Michiganders' dinner plates. PFAS have already been found in corn in a Lapeer field.          

"EGLE is a leader in studying PFAS in biosolids through our work to protect public drinking water from these contaminants," Dean says.          

In a written statement sent to Metro Times, the Great Lakes Water Authority stressed that it follows the law in testing for contaminants and said it monitors for new pollutants of concern, like PFAS.          

"As regulatory agencies identify emerging pollutants, GLWA works with the agencies to develop and implement plans to minimize or eliminate the pollutant from our wastewater discharge," a spokesperson wrote.          

But critics say there are flaws in EGLE's approach. It's only regulating two of the 7,500 types of PFAS, though it will soon start testing for five more. It also doesn't consider the cumulative total of each type of PFAS. In a hypothetical scenario, water could have dozens of different types of PFAS that collectively present a dangerous level of the chemicals. But if each is below its individual recommended limit, then it's considered safe.          

Despite the uncertainty, Dean says EGLE won't act until it can be proven that the PFAS levels in biosolids are unsafe. He also claimed that there isn't evidence to show that all varieties of PFAS found in water are toxic. However, there's a growing body of data that shows all PFAS present a danger — including the chemical companies' own science and reports from the EPA.         

The state's approach puts residents' health and safety second to industry, says McGillivray. She argued that the state should gather data to prove that sludge is safe before allowing it to be spread on the state's food supply.          

Moreover, even if all the PFAS are removed from sludge, "every toxic organic chemical that exists on the planet, and everything in municipal and industrial waste remains," says former EPA scientist Lewis.          

"When you potentially mix every chemical that exists, you get a mixture that has everything in the universe of pollutants, neurotoxins, carcinogens — you can't get away from that," Lewis adds. "So pulling one chemical out of the universe isn't going to make a difference."

***

    https://www.metrotimes.com/detroit/toilet-to-table-michigan-farmers-feed-crops-with-toxic-brew-of-human-and-industrial-waste/Content?oid=25017830     

[tabloidtoc]

Globe, December 28

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Farewell to 93 legends we loved and lost in 2020 

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Steve Martin holds a green pepper on the NYC set of Only Murders in the Building, Derek Hough is light on his feet at the MTV Movie & TV Awards 

Page 3: Julia Roberts looks scary skinny during a solo stroll in Hawaii, Chris Pratt hoists a hoverboard during an L.A. workout 

Page 4: Troubled twosome Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi are hoping to put their year from hell behind them by renewing their vows over the holidays in a desperate big to keep their love alive -- Ellen wants to prove her long-suffering wife comes first ahead of Ellen’s daytime talk show and her many celebrity friends and is going all out to show it -- penny-pincher Ellen opened her wallet as wide as her heart telling Portia she could spend whatever she wants on clothes, food, drinks, music and invite whoever she wants at the New Year’s vow ceremony on a Santa Barbara beach

Page 5: Obsessive Blake Shelton is so stressed over his upcoming wedding to Gwen Stefani he’s turning into the Groomzilla from hell -- he is sparing no expense and shelling out millions to redo his Oklahoma ranch to impress the couple’s Tinseltown friends but the mountain of stuff still to be done is driving him around the bend even though no one’s putting pressure on him but he’s obsessed with the wedding details and driving his staff crazy with his constant orders and revisions -- he’s building a chapel on the ranch and a lighted boat for a romantic wedding cruise on the lake and picking the style of the canopy for the banquet floor and re-landscaping the grounds and adding a color-themed garden

* Kenya Moore of Real Housewives of Atlanta reveals she went on a date with Kanye West but bolted when she caught him watching inappropriate flicks -- she described the outing with Kanye as a disaster date and they ended up going to his house where he left her alone, wandering around and when she followed the noises he was watching something on TV that he probably shouldn’t have been and that was her exit 

Page 6: Matthew Perry was such a slave to his addiction his former galpal Kayti Edwards says he’d send her to score drugs while she was pregnant and Matthew insisted she was the perfect drug mule because he believed cops wouldn’t stop a gal in her condition Kayti claims in a shocking tell-all about her 2011 romance with Matthew -- she says his ravenous cravings for cocaine and heroin were so out of control that he once superglued his hands to his legs and he took up to 80 Vicodin pills daily -- Kayti claims she was trying to protect Matthew because she feared he’d end up wandering around the streets and being nabbed by cops or snapped by photogs but she was also getting paid big bucks like $3000 to $4000 a day 

Page 7: Duchess Camilla’s taste for an early morning tipple has rubbed off on husband Prince Charles who is now so hooked on the sauce he starts the day guzzling a powerful gin martini with breakfast and now Charles’ alarmed staffers and pals are talking about an intervention to remind him not to go down the path that put his second wife in rehab -- Charles’ booze consumption has been off the charts for years but drinking first thing in the morning with his breakfast is a new low -- Charles laughs off suggestions he has a booze issue but one look at his bloodshot face tells the story 

* Now that a COVID-19 vaccine’s been approved in Britain Queen Elizabeth says she’s going to get the shot but wait her turn instead of pulling royal rank but she and husband Prince Philip won’t wait long because at their ages they’re in the second group to get the vaccine which is health care workers and people over 80 

Page 8: Helena Bonham Carter has a world-shakin’ suggestion for gals frustrated by the COVID-19 lockdown: get a vibrator -- she says women shouldn’t worry about snaring a beau during the pandemic but that’s easy for her to say because she’s currently cuddling with toyboy writer Rye Dag Holmboe 

* George Clooney confesses wife Amal Clooney had him shaking in his boots when he popped the question and she didn’t answer -- he asked her out of the blue but instead of squealing yes immediately the brainy lawyer just stood there -- George says he was on his knee for like 20 minutes and finally said he was going to throw his hip out -- Amal finally agreed and the couple have three-year-old twins 

* The nip/tuck freak daughter of Olivia Newton-John is being blasted as a hypocrite for coming out against the new COVID-19 vaccines -- Chloe Lattanzi claims she doesn’t trust doctors or the vaccine but critics note she had no problem shelling out an estimated $550,000 to plastic surgeons for nose jobs, super-sized boobs and ballooned lips 

Page 9: Since his life-threatening health scare game show icon Pat Sajak’s been testy and snapping at contestants and crew members leaving insiders fearing he’s heading for a breakdown -- the once-cheery Wheel of Fortune host is a different man since recovering from emergency surgery for a blocked intestine and is having difficulty coping with the workload -- he just can’t keep up with the pace and he’s pushed to the very limit and can’t seem to function doing this job and it’s all spilling over and manifesting into these ugly outbursts which are shocking viewers -- he even glares at long-time help-mate Vanna White when he gets frustrated or forgetful and she is really too nice to complain about it but she’s definitely been taken aback by his behavior 

Page 10: Proof UFOs are real -- new photos taken by Navy jets reveal we are not alone 

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- WWE legend Ric Flair (picture), Real Housewives of Orange County’s Braunwyn Windham-Burke maintains she’s not attracted to men despite renewing her wedding vows with her husband of over two decades -- she says she is gay but she loves husband Sean Burke and they plan on staying married although they don’t sleep in the same bedroom and they are raising their kids together but he knows the girl she’s dating and he’s been given the thumbs-up to date too, Liam Payne believes he’s being haunted by spooks -- convinced spooky spirits were inhabiting his West London digs Liam moved but spooks popped up at the new pad and he thinks the new house is even more haunted than the old one, George Clooney handpicked an even better looking doppelganger to play his younger self in his new flick The Midnight Sky who is screen legend Gregory Peck’s grandson Ethan Peck -- George said it was tricky because people know what he looked like when he was 35 years old but he rejected the high-tech gizmos used to weirdly reverse Robert De Niro’s age in The Irishman but he did mix his voice with Ethan’s since his voice is pretty recognizable, Matthew McConaughey’s kids Levi and Vida used their phones to photograph him for his latest magazine covers because of quarantine they couldn’t do normal photoshoots so the kids became the photographers 

Page 13: Tom Arnold dines out in Rome (picture), Aubrey O’Day (picture), Brooke Burke in Mexico (picture), pregnant Meghan Trainor was diagnosed with gestational diabetes and she’s healthy and her baby boy is healthy but she has to really pay attention to everything she eats 

Page 14: Luke Evans denies hiding in the closet to advance his Hollywood career saying it was the last thing he had because everything else he’d given to the world and adding that he left home at 16 because he was gay and went into the world as a kid because he had to, Mindy Kaling managed to keep two pregnancies under cover and kept the kids’ middle names under wraps until now -- a fan wondered why Mindy who is of a Indian heritage gave her kids Caucasian names but their names are Katherine Swati and Spencer Avu 

* Fashion Verdict -- Blanca Suarez 3/10, Olivia Palermo 1/10, Nicky Hilton 9/10, Bella Heathcote 2/10, Catt Sadler 8/10 

Page 16: True Crime 

Page 17: Martha Stewart confesses her painful divorce in 1990 was a terrible thing and she hasn’t talked to ex-husband Andrew Stewart since but she bounced back from the pain and her infamous prison stint because she’s very strong and motivated to get on with life -- still Martha admits being dumped by her husband for another woman after 29 years of marriage nearly did her in -- Martha also reveals serving five months in West Virginia in 2004 on a federal insider stock trading rap was a struggle but she got through it by working on her arts and crafts 

Page 19: 10 Things You Don’t Know About Don Lemon 

* Dolly Parton pulled no punches when discussing her longtime romance with Carl Dean dishing she and her husband have been together for 57 years and married for 54 and she’s sick of him and she’s sure he’s sick of her -- the couple have rarely been seen in public together and she says their marriage succeeds because she stays gone and they’re not in each other’s faces all the time 

* Miley Cyrus says she’s mastered the art of staying safe during lockdown love and it’s by having online sex -- she said the safest sex in these COVID-crazy times is the virtual kind and that’s where Miley has been hooking up

Page 21: Cover Story -- Thanks for the Memories -- tribute to the stars we loved and lost in 2020 

Page 22: Alex Trebek 

Page 23: Kobe Bryant and daughter Gianna, Kelly Preston 

Page 24: Kirk Douglas, Sean Connery 

Page 25: Olivia de Havilland, Chadwick Boseman 

Page 26: Robert Conrad, Naya Rivera 

Page 27: Regis Philbin 

Page 28: Kenny Rogers, Roy Horn 

Page 29: Eddie Van Halen, Little Richard 

Page 36: Health Report -- eating bread can toast your brain 

Page 38: Ghostbusters icon Dan Aykroyd has turned into a ghoulish recluse who rarely leaves his $25 million Martha’s Vineyard estate where he’s now eerily planning his own funeral -- the bizarre 68-year-old appears perfectly healthy yet he spooks around in his bed clothes muttering about who he wants to officiate at his memorial service and the goodies the chef should serve at the wake -- the curious thing is he appears to be in no danger of dropping dead anytime soon and he’s sturdy as a horse which is surprising given the cigars and the vodka and the big meals he enjoys -- Dan’s wife of 37 years Donna Dixon has gotten used to her husband’s ghoulish monologues

* Bob Dylan sold his extensive back catalog of more than 600 songs including Blowin’ in the Wind and Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door to Universal Music in a blockbuster deal topping $300 million 

Page 40: Patrick Stewart confesses he’s been furious all his life and he’s still seeing a shrink to control his rage -- he reveals he’s burned with rage inside since childhood when he witnessed his dad’s violence against his mom and he had to suppress all that anger -- at age 14 he feared he’d explode and kill his headmaster when he caned him and later he worried he’d hurt his two children with first wife Sheila Falconer in a fit of fury and now at age 80 it’s still there so he sees a therapist every week 

Page 44: Straight Talk -- The Weeknd has his nose out of joint because he wasn’t nominated for any Grammys this year and he claims he’s being snubbed because he’ll be starring on the February 7 Super Bowl halftime show a week after the Grammys 

Page 45: Jeffrey Epstein’s accused madam Ghislaine Maxwell is a paranoid mess losing her hair and wasting away in federal prison where she’s terrified shadowy forces have marked her for death -- the shrinking British socialite who denies recruiting and grooming underage girls for Epstein’s twisted lust is charged with sex trafficking minors as she rots in Brooklyn’s Metropolitan Detention Center awaiting trial next year 

Page 47: Bizarre But True 

[kazosa]

A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement - Part 4

Summary: All you wanted was to use your skills in automotive engineering and design to open your own custom car shop. When the rug gets yanked out from under you, one of your regular customers offers you a job that you just can’t resist. Will it stay a mutually beneficial arrangement, or will something unexpected bloom?

Pairing: AU Dean Winchester x Reader

Appearances by: John Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen (Harvelle) Singer, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore, Adam Mulligan, Missouri Mosley, Benny Lafitte

Chapter Synopsis: First full day with the Winchesters. John gets the reader one on one and has a few questions to ask her. The reader meets Sam and Jess. Benny shows up to say hi, too. Dean and Benny have a few things they need to hash out and end up doing it during the annual hockey game.

Word count: 9350 (this is why it takes me so long to update a new part)

Warnings: inappropriate behavior, arguments, language, fluff, kissy-face, implied actions (um, not sure if anything else)

Tagging: @coffee-obsessed-writer   @closetspngirl   @sorenmarie87   @adoptdontshoppets   @parinarain   @his-paradox   @babykalika2001   @docharleythegeekqueen   @22sarah08   @flamencodiva   @mirandaaustin93  @collette04   @maralisa124   @mml232   @sympathyforluci   @superthingsilike  @cartoonki113r   @lookwhatyoumademequeue   @jxnnxbrxwn   @winchest09  (if you want to be added to the tags, holla)

A/N: the secondary banner was made by my bestie @coffee-obsessed-writer and it’s amazing, so I had to include it!

    It was hard for you to sleep. The bed was comfortable enough, but it was so quiet in the house, and it definitely was not your own, familiar, bed. Just when you would be close to finally falling asleep, the wind would gust making the old farm house creak under the strain, starting your cycle over again. Eventually, the storm died down and you were able to get some sleep, but it probably wouldn’t be enough to let you feel human.

    Mercifully, when you woke, Dean was lying on his side facing you, blocking the annoyingly bright light that was streaming in through the windows. The night before, you hadn’t noticed the three smaller windows on the south wall. Six damned windows with nothing but a thin, plain curtain to block the light on the three largest. There wasn’t a thing covering the smaller ones.

    Dean was still sleeping, somehow. His long, dark lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks. The image of Coach Winchester flashed into your mind and what you’d said. You smiled thinking about it and looked at the handsome man lying next to you. I think I have a crush on Dean, you thought.

    Impulsively, you rolled toward him and lightly kissed his cheek. He didn’t stir as you pu8lled away and slipped out of bed. The shock of cold on your bed-warmed body brought you a special kind of hatred for John Winchester. You’d come from northern Minnesota, you hadn’t expected it to be so cold down in Kansas. Consequently, you hadn’t brought a sweater.

    Dean’s duffle was open on the floor and you spotted a cable-knit cardigan stuffed to the side of his bag. Carefully you pulled it out and put it on over your flannel pajama top. An extra layer would be better than going down to the kitchen in just your pajamas.

    Quietly, you opened the bedroom door and slipped out and made your way toward the kitchen. For as late as you all had been up the night before, it surprised you that you could smell coffee and hear the sounds of breakfast preparation coming from the kitchen. You were even more surprised to see John behind the stove.

    “Good mornin’, sunshine,” he said, clearly mocking your surly disposition. “Tough bein’ up this early?”

    “It is when I have a hangover,” you looked at him through squinted eyes. “And I’m not a morning person.”

    “Where’s Dean, he still sleeping?” he asked.

    You nodded. John pulled a pill bottle out of the cupboard over the coffee maker and loudly put the bottle on the island. The pills inside made a terrible noise.

    “Coffee?” he ventured.

    You shook your head, “Water.”

    John had already gotten dishes out for breakfast and took one of the glasses to the sink and filled it for you. While he was doing that, you opened the pill bottle and tapped out three of the pills, hoping that would be enough. John gave you the icy cold water and you downed the pills in a gulp. You wanted to make sure your stomach accepted the new fluid before ingesting more. That Johnnie Walker had been a lot stronger than you had thought it was.

     “Not being a morning person must make work easier. Do you have kids?” he asked.

    You weren’t sure how being a night-owl would make work easier for you. It was too damned early in the morning for mind games, especially since you weren’t in top form.

    “No, no kids. Not even a fur baby,” you answered.

    “How did you and Dean meet?” he asked like you hadn’t already repeated the story at least twice the previous day.

    “Dean needed a tune-up, so he came to my garage,” you felt a little uncomfortable and kept to the basics.

    John was getting food out and ready to be cooked.

    “Do you always date customers?” he asked looking you over.

    You held your glass with both hands and thought about throwing it in his face for what he was implying.

    “No, I broke a personal rule for him,” you said.

    “And now you’re getting married,” he broke an egg into a mixing bowl.

    You left your spot at the island and went to the coffee maker. The cupboard above held the mugs and you got one out, pouring a cup for Dean.

    “I think I’ll go see if he’s up now,” you took the mug and your glass of water and tried to leave the kitchen without further incident. You didn’t have to look to know that John was watching your every move, you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away.

    “Don’t you need cream and sugar?” he called to you.

    “Nope, he takes it black,” you said without stopping. You didn’t want him to see you rattled.

       You tucked your water between your body and arm so you could open the bedroom door. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made your hand shake as you reached for the knob. Inside, the sun had warmed the bedroom and Dean was still lying in bed, huddled under a mound of blankets.

    You put your glass and the mug on the nightstand by your side of the bed. The blankets were still flipped down, and you kicked yourself for not flipping them up before you went downstairs. Any heat that had been there from your body was gone. Instead, you carefully eased yourself up onto the bed, sitting close to Dean and so you could see his face. He was lying on his back now and you were 80% sure he was awake though his eyes were closed.

    “Your dad caught me off guard,” you said softly. “I think he’s got it stuck in his head that I’m a stripper.”

    “He’s a real charmer,” his voice was low, and his eyes were still closed. He rolled partially onto his side and opened his eyes a sliver. “What are you doing up already?”

    “Couldn’t sleep. Too quiet. Too bright.”

    “Too weird?” his eyes opened more.

    “I mean…I wasn’t gonna say it, but… a bit,” you admitted, “and you snore.”

    “I do not,” he said, “besides, you’re the one that snores.”

    “Whatever, I barely slept,” you scoffed.

    “You slept fine in Minneapolis,” he said.

    “Touché,” you said, rolling onto your knee to grab the coffee off the nightstand, “I got you this.”

    He slowly sat up to take the mug from her. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed the sweet, sweet aroma of coffee sooner. As he took a drink of the coffee, he wondered if maybe he should have a talk with his dad about (Y|N). Even if she were a stripper, she didn’t deserve harsh treatment, and he didn’t want her feeling uncomfortable.

    “A guy could get used to this,” he said between drinks.

    Dean’s hair was all over the place and he still looked half-asleep. The coffee was doing its work, but slowly. His t-shirt was stretched across the broad expanse of his shoulders, and the light from the window was highlighting the fine hairs on his strong arms. You could get used to mornings like this with Dean, too.

    “What?” Dean noticed you staring at him.

    “You’re cute,” you said bluntly, looking at his bedhead and adorable freckles.

    “Shaddap,” he smiled.

    “No, I’m serious. Don’t women tell you you’re cute?”

    “I think I’m adorable…” he took a drink of the coffee.

    “Dean.”

    “I mean,” he shrugged as if to say, ‘look at me’ but continued with,” Yeah, but they’re not usually still with me in the morning, or my fake fiancé.”

    “I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered,” you said then reached for your water.

    “What about you? Any skeletons I need to know about, other than driving a Tesla,” he shook his head, still in disbelief.

    That comment and reaction made you laugh out loud. You had to think on it a bit, but you were pretty sure you didn’t have any other bombshells to drop on Dean.

    “No, I don’t think so,” you said. “Pretty clean. Goody-two-shoes. I do have a pretty big nest egg saved up. I had roommates for years and saved a lot. Plus, my dad left me a chunk that I invested.”

    “Oh really?” he asked.

    “Yes. And I know what you’re thinking. This is just a way to get to my dream quicker,” you explained. “I’ll still give it my all.”

    “You know about the women I see, what about you? What’s your favorite flavor?”

    It was his turn to put you on the spot and it turned out that maybe you did have a skeleton or two. To keep it a mutually beneficial arrangement, you needed to keep up your end of the deal.

    “I do have a particular weakness for bikers,” you admitted. “Not the weekend-warrior type, the break-limbs if you look at ‘em wrong kind.”

    Dean raised his eyebrows at you, “Really?” he drew the word out.

    “Yeah,” you said, “don’t be judgey. Women have needs, too.”

    “And that’s for violent bikers?” he assumed.

    “There’s the judgey part.”

    “What did you get out of that?”

    “What did you get out of dating strippers?” you shot back.

    “You’re right?” he looked into his mug, “I’m sorry.” He raised a hand in surrender.

    “Just so you know, I was treated like a queen. Besides, it never lasted more than a few months, anyway. Club first, always.”

    A few moments of silence passed between the two of you. Both of you thought about the people you’d chosen to be in your lives, knowing that they would never last. That had been part of the fun, but you were also waiting for the right one to come along.

    “Here’s to us and our bad decisions,” Dean raised his mug.

    You clinked your glass against his mug then you both took a drink. You looked at Dean and marveled at your circumstances. Your personal rule about not dating customers had prevented you from even thinking about dating him. Spending time with him over the last few days made you realize what you had been missing. Not with the customers, but with him specifically, though… he did make it clear he didn’t have time for a personal life outside of this week.

    “Here’s to us making better choices,” you said raising your glass again. Dean took the toast and drank with you.

    “You ready for the rest of the day?” Dean asked.

    “Yeah, I’m a little nervous to meet Sam and Jess, though,” you told him.

    He put his hand on your knee, “Don’t be. You survived my dad, you’ll be fine. I’ll be close if it gets hairy.” He patted your knee. “C’mon. Let’s do this.”

    Before he got out of the bed, he turned to you and said, “Is that my sweater?”

    You laughed, “Wow. Took you long enough.”

       By the time you and Dean were ready and heading to the kitchen, Ellen and Bobby were already at the table with two new people you assumed were Sam and Jess. John was behind the stove which had a skillet where he was finishing up pancakes, bacon and hash browns. John, Ellen and Bobby all greeted you and Dean as the two of you entered the kitchen. From behind you, Dean breathed out an audible “whoa” as he realized his brother and fiancé were at the table, too.

     “It’s about time you two showed up. Breakfast is about ready,” John said from behind the stove.

    “Sad when we’re up before you kids,” Bobby teased.

    “Speak for yourself. I coulda stood a little more shuteye,” Ellen countered, grasping her coffee like it was giving her life.

    A very large man pushed back from the table and stood up. You recognized him from the pictures Dean had shown you as his brother, Sam. Dean stepped out from behind you, a smile on his face as Sam wiped his mouth on a napkin and tossed it on his chair.

    “You’re gonna be napping by three, Bobby,” Sam patted the older man’s shoulder as he passed by. He crossed the space to Dean and the two brothers shared a quick hug.

    “I hear I’m not the only Winchester getting married,” Sam said, looking between the two of you.

    Dean blushed slightly, looking bashful, “Yeah, you heard right. Sammy, this is (Y|N), my fiancé.”

    “Hi Sam,” you said, “it’s nice to meet you.”

    The very pretty blonde woman came walking over and you knew she had to be Jess. She looked very well put together for being up as early as they had to have been to arrive for breakfast. You somewhat envied her designer clothes.

    “It’s nice to meet you, too. What a nice surprise,” Sam’s tone was genuine. “This gorgeous creature is my fiancé, Jessica.”

    “Jess,” she said with a smile.

    This sizing up was getting to be a very familiar sight over the last day and Sam and Jess just continued the trend. It made you wonder what John, Bobby, and Ellen had told them in your absence.

    “You two are lawyers, right?” you asked.

    “Didn’t Dean tell you?” Jess asked.

    Of course, they are, you thought. “Yeah, he did. I was wondering what kind.” You were going to need a lawyer to help you get your business started.

    “Do you need a lawyer?” Sam said, looking at you like you were a criminal and you were getting tired of it.

    “Hey,” Dean interrupted just as you were about to set them right, “we can talk shop later. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

    Dean put his hand on your back to move you toward the table. Sam and Jessica went back to their seats at the table. However, your irritation with the Winchesters was rising. Everyone was assuming the worst of you and you spun around on Dean.

    “Honey? A word?” you gave him a look that said it wasn’t optional. He followed you to a spot just outside of the kitchen in the formal dining room.

    “How the hell am I ever going to get in their good graces if they all assume the worst of me?” you were struggling to keep your voice even. “Are you gonna set them straight? They either believe I’m a gold-digger, or don’t want to believe I could be anything else.”

    “I’ll talk to them, I promise,” he said.

    “I hope so. I’m damn good at what I do, and I’ve never needed anyone to pat me on the back for it, but… I need it from you,” you hated letting the emotion get to you. “At least, for this week.”

    “(Y|N),” Dean held your shoulders in his hands and didn’t continue until you looked up at him, “I promise.” He waited for you to give him a nod, “Let’s go eat.”

       When breakfast was done and put away, you found yourself sitting in awkward silence with Jess. John had taken the boys outside to help him with some chores and Bobby and Ellen had taken off to go do their part. That left you and Jess in the living room.

    “Tell me about you and Sam. How did you meet? When did you know he was the one? How did he propose?” you asked hoping it would spark conversation. Anything had to be better than the deafening silence.

    Jess told you everything. She said how she spotted the tall, awkward man on campus, struggling to get a building door open. He’d been carrying too many books and a campus map. She’d taken pity on him and got the door for him and showed him where his class was. Jess explained that she had friends that went to Stanford the year before and she had visited.

    “Honestly, after that day, he sent me a dozen pink roses and that was when I knew. Guys just don’t do that anymore, ya know?”

    You nodded. Dean wasn’t a romantic, you could tell, but he was also very intimate.

    “He asked me to marry him at our favorite restaurant the night before Thanksgiving…” she went on to tell you every detail Sam had thought of and how perfect everything had all been. Then she showed you her ring.

    “It was Mary’s,” she said with a smile.

    “And what about you?” she asked. “I gotta say, I didn’t think Dean ever thought about marrying anyone after Laura.”

    You knew Dean had almost gotten married once, but you didn’t think he’d ever mentioned her name. It didn’t matter much though, you just rolled with it.

    “It came as a surprise to me, too,” you said. If she only knew half of it, you thought. “We’d gone shopping, had dinner in our room and he asked me. It was really nice,” you thought back on it and how it felt real, even if it was all for show. “Just the two of us, no distractions.” You leaned forward to show her your ring, “This one was their grandmother’s.”

    “Nostalgic bunch, aren’t they?” Jess noticed.

    “We did alright, huh?” you said.

    Jess suddenly shifted in her seat to face you more direct.

    “Real talk?” she asked.

    “Sure,” you nodded.

    “I know Dean thinks I can be a bit of a social climber and that I don’t care about people, but I do. I would really like for us to be friends. If it doesn’t work, friendly is okay, too. Sam won’t say it, but he’s always looked up to Dean and would really like it if they could spend more time together.”

    “I’d like to be friends, too,” you told her. What could it hurt?

    “I gotta know… are you really a mechanic?” she asked.

    You laughed, “I feel like a broken record. I swear, on my life, that is my one, and only, job.”

    “Wow,” she said, sitting back in her seat, “Dean must really be serious. I know you’re engaged and all, but…honestly, you’re the type of woman I thought he would go for.”

    “And what type is that?” you asked without malice.

    “You know, someone not more interested in herself. Someone with a brain and could stand up to… well…this.” She spread her hands wide. “Not to mention, handling Dean. He looks very taken with you. I can’t remember seeing him smile that much. Not in a long time.”

         You didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t like you could spill your guts and tell her everything that was going on. Not yet, anyway. It was nice to hear though. But was it really for you, or just the version of you that you were presenting to everyone? Rather than addressing it with Jess, you changed the subject.

    “I suppose we should get out there, huh? Looks like shareholders have been arriving for a while.”

    Out the front windows, you could see people walking with their spouses and families. Cars were pulling up and valets were parking the cars away from the house so as not to distract from the festivities. Jess was looking too and threw a furtive glance from the window to you before giving in. The strange look on Jess’ face made you wonder what she saw, but she gave in quickly enough when she spotted Sam.

    Once the two of you got outside, Jess took off to meet up with Sam and left you near the back of the house where an enormous tent had been set up for the skating rink that had been built for the gala’s week-long celebration. You scanned the faces of the revelers looking for Dean.

    “They’re in the barn,” a man was working on finishing touches for the rink. He was wearing a parka that had “The Cage” printed on the back and some other faded writing that you couldn’t quite make out.

    “Excuse me?” you said to him.

    “You must be looking for Dean or John, right?” the man took off his leather gloves and clasped them in one hand.

    “Yeah, how’d you know?”

    He shrugged, “Good guess. Quite the setup, huh?”

    You had to agree. John went all out, and everything looked spectacular. There was the space for the rink, which had skate “rental” inside. You could hear music playing in there. Not to mention, there were kiosks for foods and drinks scattered about as well as photo booths. There was even a marked path that had signs pointing to all the attractions like the path that led to a sledding hill, the one that led to the pond for “the real skating” as Dean had said, and one that read “North Pole.” And every bit of it was decorated to the hilt.

    “This is incredible,” you said. “The kids must be thrilled with the snow that came last night. Are you working?”

    “Yeah, sorry, I’m Adam,” he said.

    “(YN),” you said.

    “I come down from Hell every year to do this,” he explained.

    “Hell?”

    “Hell, Michigan,” he grinned. “It’s the one perk of living there. My boss wants me to tell people he let me out of The Cage to bring Hell to Kansas.”

    You gave him a questioning look.

    “Moved there a few years ago. Boss thinks he’s funny,” Adam rolled his eyes. There was something familiar about him… “Better get back to it,” he continued. “You have a nice time.”

    “Thank you.”

    Finally, you spotted Dean walking out of the barn, just as Adam had guessed. You gave Adam a wave and went off to meet up with Dean.

       “What the hell is he doing here?” Dean pulled the wheel chocks from the hayrack cart.

    “Working, just like all of us,” John was calm. It wasn’t the first time Dean made it known that he didn’t like seeing Adam. “He’s got just as much right to be here as any of us.”

    “No, he doesn’t!” Dean was so angry. “He’s not a Winchester. You keep pushing how family is important, but you don’t mean your own family.”

    “Is that what this is about? You think Adam has some claim on your inheritance?”

    “Of course, that’s what you think… this was Mom’s favorite holiday and every time you bring him here, it’s not just a slap in the face to her memory, but it’s also a reminder of why she’s dead!”

    John had often underestimated Dean. His oldest son was more observant and smarter than he gave him credit for. It made him wonder when he’d figured it out.

    Dean had never said it out loud. He’d known for years what had really happened to his mother, but he stayed silent for Sam’s sake. With (Y|N) being along, he couldn’t take his father’s two-faced lies any longer.

    “Are you going to tell Sam?” John wanted to know.

    “What makes you think he doesn’t know?” Dean took a second of pleasure from the look on his dad’s face. “I never said anything, but Sam is no dummy. You just keep pushing the button.”

    “What am I supposed to do, Dean? He’s my kid,” John would do what he thought was right, no matter what Dean had to say.

    “I don’t know, Dad,” Dean swung the chocks with such force, they slammed against the wall behind the cart. “Maybe you could get off your high horse for a while and realize that once you push us away, we’re not coming back.”

    John didn’t have anything else to say and Dean didn’t stick around to hear any more if he did. He stalked out of the barn and back to the house as quick as he could. His eyes scanned the crowd for (Y|N). There were a lot of peoples and families walking around, but he found her easily. A woman like her stood out, it didn’t matter how she dressed, people noticed her. He noticed her.

    As he got closer, he realized who she was talking to and swallowed hard. Thankfully, she spotted him and left behind the interloper. She had no idea who Adam was, and he walked away when he saw Dean coming.

    “Hey! Where’ve you been? Ready to get your skate on?” you asked. You noticed the scowl that was on Dean’s face, “You okay?”

    “I’m ah, okay, just getting the hayrack ready for the tractor. Gave me more trouble than I expected,” he didn’t want to talk about what happened yet. He really didn’t want to skate either, not with everyone in the rink. He would much rather take (Y|N) down to the pond. It was further away and would probably have less people.

    You didn’t buy his story for a second. Dean had told you before that he and his dad often did not agree. Though he’d gone to help his dad, you suspected John had done, or said, something to upset Dean. You knew better than to press the issue, besides, you could always ask him later.

    “Okay, are we doing this, or what?” you asked.

    Dean stuck out his elbow for you and walked you to the back of the property, behind the house, to where the rink had been set up. The food kiosks smelled wonderful. Christmas music was playing. Popcorn was popping. Cotton candy hanging in bags for guests. Ciders. Hot chocolate. Any holiday treat you could think of was there. Dean didn’t slow down as you passed by the trailer that had the loaner skates. Instead, he took you to the furthest end of the rink. There were less people there and you could hear him better.

    Sam and Jess were already on the ice and looked amazing. You’d only just met them, and you already knew that they were the couple that did everything well and you either loved them or hated them. They glided gracefully around the rink and you felt undecided on what category you fell into regarding the couple.

    Dean sat on a small set of bleachers that had been set up spectators. He could see Sam and Jess stop to talk to some employees he recognized from the dealership in town. (Y|N) had his attention though. She was leaning on the barrier, her leggings showing off her assets.

    Feeling his eyes on you, you looked over your shoulder at Dean. He hadn’t looked up from your ass yet.

    “Hey, creeper, come be social,” you said, snapping him out of his daze.

    Dean got up from his spot. Sam and Jess had spotted them and were coming over to chat. He leaned his elbows on the barrier next to (Y|N). You noticed that Dean never seemed to feel the cold. He only had on his usual coat and a scully. You slipped your arm under his and took his hand with your gloved one. Dean said nothing, he just looked at you sideways with a hint of a smile on his features. His fingers wrapped around yours, his thumb stroking the soft material of your glove. It was such a small gesture, but it made you feel like you were on top of the world. You leaned into his shoulder, reminding yourself it was completely natural to feel this way.

    “Hey, you love birds,” Jess said as she and Sam came to a stop near you and Dean. “You two look so cute together, are you going to come skate with us?”

    The plan had been to skate, but he’d seemed to have abandoned that for the moment. You waited for him to answer, unsure if you should. When you realized he didn’t know what to say, you jumped in.

    “I think we’ll mingle out here for a bit, grab some snacks, then go skate. I don’t want everyone to see me fall so much,” you laughed.

    “Oh, I’m sure you’re amazing,” Jess responded.

    “If you guys change your mind,” Sam’s words trailed off, letting you fill in the blank.

    Dean didn’t correct you. Instead, he walked you around the outside of the rink saying hello to people he knew and introducing himself to those he didn’t. When he introduced you, he always referred to you as his fiancé. A lot of the people had similar questions. When you’d made a full lap around the rink, you’d answered the same questions two or three times each. One thing you’d noticed was that everyone was happy that Dean had “found a nice girl” and was “finally settling down.”

    With a little more mingling, Dean led you back to the opening of the rink to where the skates were being loaned out and gave your size to the attendant.

    “Figure skates or hockey?” they asked.

    “Figure skates, please,” you answered.

    “Hockey,” Dean said, as if there were no other option.

    Skates slung over your shoulder, Dean led you to the next kiosk. Dean tried to introduce you to the lady who was running it.

    “Missouri Mosley, this is…”

    “I know who this is. Let me look at you, honey,” she said taking your hand. You felt like she was looking into your soul. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “Cinnamon roll with pecans?”

    Dean rolled his eyes.

    “Oh my God, that’s exactly what I was going to ask for,” you said.

    Missouri let go of your hand to go fill your order.

    Dean called after Missouri, “I’ll have…”

    Missouri raised her hand to stop him from speaking, “If you think I don’t know what you want by now.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue against her teeth.

    Missouri handed you a plate with a fork and the most delicious looking cinnamon roll you had ever seen, still warm and steaming in the cold air. For Dean, she handed him a similar plate, but the roll was drenched in icing.

    “Cinnamon roll, extra icing,” Missouri said, dryly.

    The look of utter joy on Dean’s face was so unrestrained, it warmed you.

    “Now don’t you mess it up with this nice girl, Dean Winchester. This one can give you a run for your money, but not like the others. She’s different and you know it, boy,” she said to Dean. “She’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

    “Don’t do that Jedi mind-crap on me, Missouri,” Dean balked.

    Missouri gave Dean a glare before turning her attention back to you.

    “You go on keeping him in line, sweetheart. He might fuss, but he likes it. Especially from a strong woman like you. Don’t let his stupidity push you away.”

    With a glance at Dean, Missouri rolled her eyes this time and made a motion like she was done with him. When you got your wits back about you, you saw Dean already had a mouthful of cinnamon roll and was giving Missouri’s back a dirty look.

    “I’m not stupid,” he said through his full mouth.

    You couldn’t help but laugh. He had icing and crumbs at the corners of his mouth. You pulled off your glove and used the pad of your thumb to wipe away the icing. Without even thinking, you licked the sweetness off your thumb.

    Dean was a little taken aback by (Y|N). He didn’t want to think that Missouri was right about her, but it was hard to deny that he was experiencing growing feelings for (Y|N).

    “I know sweetie,” you said. “Even if you are derpy sometimes, you make up for it with cute.”

    “Hmm,” he finished his bite. “I’m glad you see it that way.”

    The next booth over had the biggest mugs of hot chocolate you’d ever been given. Everything was on such a grand scale, you couldn’t imagine what the actual gala would be like. Finally, Dean took you down to the pond.

    The pond was bigger than you thought it would be. Bleachers were set up on either side. Lights were strung up all around the outside on poles. There was a small shelter at one edge that had a big window in it which faced the pond. At the other end was another small shelter on skids that you knew was and ice fishing shack. When you got closer, there were nets on the snow by the shelter and that the ice had been prepared for skating.

    Dean took you inside the shelter with the big window and turned on the power. The heater came to life and a small radio hummed on the counter. Dean pulled out the two chairs that were used for the game call.

    “Wow, this is cozy,” you said, taking one of the chairs.

    “Eventually, the heater will blow air slightly warmer than it is now,” Dean started right in on his hot chocolate and roll. “Better eat while it’s still a little warm.”

    One bite of the cinnamon roll and you wanted to go profess your love to Missouri Mosley.

    “Oh my God, this is the best cinnamon roll I have ever had,” you said.

    Dean tapped his finger on your mug, not saying anything, just wanting you to try it.

    After one sip, “I’m never leaving.”

    The drink felt like silk on your tongue. The flavor was full and rich with a hint of a spice you were unfamiliar with. And the cream…

    “Paprika,” he answered your nagging question.

    “Mind blown,” you returned.

    Dean licked his fingers before reaching into his pocket for his phone. Not only did it surprise you that Dean had a phone, but it was also a smart phone. He pushed a few buttons and music started playing.

    You were anxious to get out on the ice, so you didn’t waste time eating your roll. It was too good not to devour. When your plate was clean, you pushed your forward and sat back in your chair. You were so full it was tough to get a breath.

    “Maybe we should skip skating. I think I might go over the weight limit,” you groaned and rubbed your belly.

    Dean chuckled, “Benny was out here resurfacing. If it can hold him, it can hold anyone.”

    “Who is Benny, again? Was he your buddy from…high school?”

    “High school, yeah. We were on the wrestling team. Then he worked with me at the brewery. He’s running the floor now,” Dean explained.

    “He gonna be okay with you running the business?”

    He shrugged, “If he doesn’t like it, that’s on him. We got along well enough when we worked together. Guess we’ll see.”

    You squeezed his arm, “Let’s go skate off the decadence.”

    Dean put his music on the PA, and you went outside to get on your skates. Finally, you were laced up and ready to go. The skates you’d been loaned fit shockingly well. Dean, not having any complaints, carefully followed you to the ice. He seemed to be way more confident on the ice than you. AS part of living so far north in Minnesota, for as long as you had, it was practically required that you skate at least once.  Remembering how your last outing had gone, you moved ever so carefully and were grateful for the toe pick, your only source of traction.

    “I’m gonna warm up, you good?” Dean asked.

    George Thorogood was singing about his rent being late…

    You were holding out your arms for balance and getting used to the feel of the blades under your feet again. It had been a long, long time since you last wore any. Concentrating too hard for words, you gave Dean a thumbs-up and he took off doing hot-laps around the rink.

    Liar, liar, pants on fire, you thought as you saw his blur out the corner of your eye. He was way better than he’d let on. You were moving slowly now, but it could be considered skating, at least. The pond was so far out of the way, you could only hear the music and the sound of your and Dean’s skates on the ice. He was slowing down to match your turtle’s pace.

    “Coming up on your left, sweetheart,” he said.

    Gently, he took your elbow, then moved into place to take your hand, steadying you. It took a few strides to fall into step with him before you both moved smoothly.

    “You made me think you couldn’t skate,” you said evenly.

    “I said I didn’t skate on purpose, not that I couldn’t,” he said helping you turn.

    “Man, of many talents,” you mused.

    He chuckled, deciding to not walk through that particular door just yet.

    “What was Missouri getting at?” you wanted to know. “That was one of the weirdest conversations I’ve been part of.”

    “Oh… um…” he didn’t know how to put it. “She’s a bit of a mystic.”

    “She knew who I was and what I wanted.”

    “People talk,” he reasoned. “Missouri only sells cinnamon rolls.” About fifteen different kinds, though.

    “Okay,” you could see that point, “but she said I was the one you were waiting for.”

    Dean’s skate must have hit a hidden piece of debris in the ice because he suddenly lost his footing on the ice, stumbling and pulling you down with him. A moment of stunned silence passed between you. Dean grimaced for a second before opening his eyes to see you looking down at him. The only sound was coming from the PA.

           Baby, you’re all that I want

           When you’re lyin’ here in my arms

           I’m findin’ it hard to believe

           We’re in heaven

    Your hands clutched Dean’s jacket. His body firm and surprisingly warm under you. Maybe the heat was you… Your face was so close to his. His breath still smelled like hot chocolate and frosting. You could see the fine sprinkling of freckles across his cheeks and nose. It would take just a second to kiss him…

           And love is all that I need

           And I found it here in your heart

           It isn’t too hard to see

           We’re in heaven

    The music finally made it to your ears. Your eyes searched into his green ones.

    “Is it Bryan Adams?”

    You got your knees up under you and you sat back on his lap.

    “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” you asked as he sat up under you.

    “I’m fine,” he said somewhat avoiding your gaze.

    You could feel the ice start to seep into your leggings.

    “Guess we better get outta here before we freeze like this,” you suggested, but you didn’t really mean it.

    Dean looked at you with those eyes that you could get lost in forever. You pulled off your gloves, concerned that he’s banged his head on the ice, you cupped one hand on his neck just below his ear. You used your other hand to run your fingers through his hair and to the back of his head, checking for signs of injury or swelling. He let you do as you pleased, watching you the whole time.

    Dean’s hand rested on your thighs, his hands gripping the muscle there as you ran your fingers over his scalp. You didn’t fight him as his hands traveled up your legs and round your hips to pull you closer to him.

    Your heart was keeping a dangerous pace in your chest as you leaned back to look at him. Hands still on his handsome face and in his thick hair, he looked at you the way you were looking at him. Dean’s hands left a trail of electricity as they traveled up your back to finally pull your mouth to his.

    You closed your eyes and bursts of light flashed against your eyes like fireworks. His arms squeezed tightly around you and you held onto his shoulders so you could remember which way was up.

    “No guests on the ice!” a voice boomed over the PA and it wasn’t one you recognized.

    The rude intrusion startled you both, Dean’s head whipping around to put a face to the voice, though he already knew who it was. You were already moving to let Dean get up off the ice when he helped you slide over.

    “This isn’t done, sweetheart,” he said, getting up off the ice.

    Better not be.

    Dean’s rage was ready to come out in an explosion. The man on the PA was already stalking across the ice to where he and (Y|N) had been before Benny interrupted.

    “What in the hell are you…Dean? Figures,” Benny barked.

    “Just can’t leave anything alone, can you, Benny?” Dean growled back.

    “What the hell does that mean?”

    “You know damn well what I mean. I’m out here with my fiancé, and you gotta come ruin it. You going to try to take her away from me, too?”

    “I am so tired of this shit, Dean. It’s been fifteen years, brother, when are you going to let this shit go?”

    “Let’s settle it once and for all,” Dean looked around at the rink. “Tonight, when we play, winner gets a free slap shot and the loser doesn’t bring it up again.”

    “Are you fucking serious,” Benny was sure Dean has lost his mind.

    “Don’t I look serious?”

    You were watching as this weird interaction played out in front of you. You thought Dean and Benny were friends…

    “Alright…” Benny drawled, “tonight then. Now get off my ice, you arrogant bastard. Ma’am.” Benny nodded at you then walked away.

    “What the hell was that?” you asked Dean.

    When his temper calmed down a little, Dean explained as you went to the shack to get the dishes and his phone.

    “Benny was the reason Laura wouldn’t marry me,” he said.

    “You told me it was mutual.”

    “I thought it was.”

    “So, what happened?”

    “I went on our honeymoon and when I got back, I found out about them. Dad had been working me like a mule and not listening to ideas… I didn’t have time for Laura. It was a good time to go, but not before I told Benny what a piece of shit he was, and he’d never be as good in the brewery as me. It was like he was trying to take over my life. He runs the brewery floor, has my dad’s favor, married my ex…”

    You told yourself that the twist your stomach was doing was the fault of your rich treat and not the stabbing pain of jealousy. It had only been a few days. Your logical mind refused to believe you had feelings for Dean that were more than a crush. That kiss though… that wasn’t lust, that was passion. Your lips could still feel his and you brushed your fingertips over them as you smiled. No, it wasn’t a crush. All you wanted was to kiss him like that again… every day until… forever.

       Jess told you that the hockey game was something they did each year. John and Bobby had only just quit playing a few years prior. It was supposed to be a friendly match-up between the brewery and dealerships. Sam captained the brewery and Dean the dealerships.

    “I have to warn you, the game gets intense,” Jess warned. “They play for two hundred dollars and a vacation day for the whole side.”

    “Two hundred split per team isn’t much,” you said.

    You and Jess were sitting on the bleachers you’d seen earlier with Dean. The lights were on now and gave the pond a soft glow in the quickly setting sunlight.

    Jess touched your arm, “No, no. That’s two hundred per employee plus a vacation day, each.”

    Holy shit. “And the losers?”

    “Fifty and a half day.”

    It made more sense now. You wondered if what plans Dean had, if any, for the business. He mentioned new brews and changing how production worked, but not much of actual business. Maintaining this level of benefit and showiness would really hurt the bottom line at the end of the year. You could help Dean with managing the business, but after the week was over, you’d be out of Dean’s life again and you wouldn’t be able to help him at all. Maybe you could change his mind.

    You continued to chat with Jess until the game started. The roar of the crowd shocked you. The bleachers on each side were full and people were standing around the edges to watch. Once the game got in full-swing, you realized most players wore minimal padding and no helmets. The lack of protection didn’t lessen the players’ intensity, they were ferocious. Dean and Benny took every chance they got to land a blow on the other.

    It was exciting to watch the game. There was plenty of action and Dean was playing aggressively and it was hot. When there was a break between periods, you went to the concession area to get a snack. If everything was half as good as what Missouri had made, you couldn’t possibly go wrong.

    You found a stand that had the best smell coming from it and got in line. Jess had gone to talk to other people she knew leaving you to get food on your own. You didn’t know anyone there and Dean was doing team things… So, when you felt a hand run across the full length of your ass, you didn’t think, you swung your elbow back.

    “Whoa, darlin’, just checking out the goods here,” John indicated the concession menu.

    You didn’t believe him for a second. He continued despite your glare.

    “I checked on a place called “Chuck’s Garage” in Bemidji, couldn’t find one,” his tone not accusatory.

    Of course, you did, you thought.

    “Well, I’m not surprised,” you told him, stepping forward in the line.

    “Why would you lie about where you work, hiding something?”

    It was beyond annoying now.

    “No. Its actual name isn’t “Chuck’s Garage,” I just call it that because I refuse to call it “Heaven on Wheels.” Next time you want to check up on me, google my name or Chuck Shurley. Better yet, just ask me.”

    “I’d ask Dean, but I don’t think he knows you all that well.”

    “He knows me better than almost anyone,” you weren’t lying. You’d told things that even Donna didn’t know. You moved forward with the line again.

    “I know Dean want to run the brewery. And I know he would go to any length to get it, including a ploy to make me think he’s in love,” he kept his voice low so only you could hear. “I don’t want hand over my hard work to a man not in a stable relationship.”

    “Is it really so hard to believe that your son could be in love with me, or I him?” you were incredulous.

    Your blood was boiling. He had a lot of nerve talking to you like that. Maybe he was protecting his son. Maybe he was protecting himself. You couldn’t even be sure that protection was the motivation. You stepped forward and gave your order at the window.

    “There’s something going on here and I’m going to find out what it is,” he said.

    You took your order from the window and turned to him making sure he, and everyone in earshot, heard you loud and clear.

    “You do what you have to do. But I assure you, if you ever touch me in a way less than fatherly again, next time I will not miss,” you stalked off back to your spot in the bleachers wondering how the hell Dean had a dad like that.

    Jess saw you coming, just in time for the next period to start. She noticed your obvious change in demeanor.

    “Are you okay?” she asked. “You only went to get food, what happened?”

    “John,” you said through gritted teeth.

    Jess leaned back, “What did he do?”

    You just shook your head trying to get the rage you were feeling to subside. John deserved a punch in the face, but it helped that you told him off in front of everyone.

    “He accused me of lying, not being in love with Dean and I’m pretty sure he grabbed my ass,” you seethed.

    Jess was shocked by John’s behavior, but not surprised.

    “Sam told me after their mom died, John changed. He didn’t care about anything anymore. He alienated everyone not associated with the businesses. John wasn’t much of a parent either. The only reason Bobby and Ellen stuck around was for the boys. I’m not excusing him, I’m just saying, he wasn’t always like this,” she paused. “Did you deck him?”

    You snorted, “No, but I wish I had.”

    “I’m sorry. Don’t let him get to you. I can tell you and Dean love each other. Whatever else doesn’t matter.” Jess let a few more moments pass before she said, “Would you and Dean want to get a mani/pedi with me and Sam tomorrow?”

    That made you laugh out loud.

    “I’m down, but it might take a little convincing to get Dean to go along,” you said.

    “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said with a knowing smile.

       The game continued with the same aggression as it had in the first period, though dean and Benny were the only ones actively seeking out the other. By the end of the game, you and Jess had eaten all of your snacks and both teams were exhausted and slightly worse for wear.

    Dean was still with his team and shaking hands with the opposing side. The crowd was filing out of the bleachers to head home with the game being the last event of that day. When most of the people were gone, you got up and stood at the edge of the ice to wait for Dean to come over.

    With skates on, he was so much taller than you, he towered. He was still sweating and breathing hard from the game, but it was getting better already. He slid to a stop in front of you, his skates making a “shh” sound as he stopped.

    “Interesting game,” you said looking up at him. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

    “Yeah, I do. Fair is fair,” he said making eye contact with you. Benny was practicing shots behind him. The brewery had won the game by one goal.

    “Hey,” you pulled his arm to get his attention. “Promise me you’ll let it go after this.”

    Dean just sighed.

    “Fine, be a stubborn ass!” you ranted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he aimed for your head!”

    One of Benny’s practice shots hit the metal post with a loud clang, and it scared you. You’d heard about people getting a concussion, or worse, from a stray puck at professional games. Dean was going to let Benny take a shot at him, with no padding. The stick cracked loudly with each shot Benny took, sending the puck flying in a blur into the net.

    “Back in a minute,” he said and skated to center ice.

    You weren’t going to watch him get his head caved in, so you started to make your way back up toward the house. In a bit of a snit, you hadn’t paid much attention to who was around.

    “Are you Dean’s fiancé?” a woman asked from the bleachers.

    You nodded, “Who are you?”

    “Laura Lafitte,” she answered.

    For you, it would have been better if she were a hag. Instead, she had a gorgeous olive complexion, complete with dark hair and eyes, her expression not unkind.

    “Am I going to have any problems with you and Dean?” you were blunt. You’d been through enough bullshit for one day and had zero patience for more.

    “No,” she answered right away. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I was awful to Dean and I hope he’s over us now.”

    “It’s not about you, princess. He loves me. He wants to marry me. Dean is upset about the people he loved sneaking around behind his back. He’s pissed that they’re still doing it. He just wants the life that keeps getting taken from him,” you were on a roll, first John, now Laura.

    You looked back at the pond just in time to see Benny at the top of his swing. In a blink, Benny had connected sending the puck rocketing toward Dean.

       “Ow.”

    “Shut up.”

    He didn’t like how vigorous (Y|N) was cleaning the cut on his forehead.

    “Hey, I’m the one who took a slapshot to the head,” he defended.

    “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

    “It only grazed me,” he muttered making a face as she pulled off a piece of dead skin. “Jesus, are you using steel wool?”

    “And who’s fault is it you have this cut, anyway?” she said with a Band-Aid clenched between her teeth. “Don’t you dare say it’s them. This is all you. You’re the one deciding how this all goes.”

    He was sitting on the closed toilet seat lid, the bathroom still warm from his shower. He was pretty beaten up, but no way in hell was he going to tell (Y|N) how much, not with the mood she was in already. She’d insisted on making sure it was his skin that had been damaged and not his “thick skull.”

    During his shower, he’d had a little time to think things over about (Y|N), Laura and Benny. It had been a long time to hold a grudge. He didn’t want Laura. He didn’t even care that Benny had married her and had his old job. He liked where he was, the person he was, and the company he kept. He couldn’t imagine having to spend the last fifteen years with Laura. He just wished he’d asked out (Y|N) when he first saw her.

    “This is the ‘stupid’ Missouri was talking about, isn’t it?” she stuck the Band-Aid to his head with a pat.

    “I saw you take off,” his hands went to the soft fabric at her hips. “I wasn’t sure you were staying.”

    “I didn’t want to see that bear of a man take you out.”

    “Benny’s a teddy bear though,” he pulled her hips and she grudgingly took a small step forward. “But you were there as soon as I opened my eyes.”

    “Just making sure you weren’t dead,” she put her hand on his shoulder.

    Her fingers, gentle now, grazed the bandage, then ran through his hair, coming to a rest on the side, her thumb stroking his cheek bone. He tipped his head slightly, into her touch, her hand warm and steady. It had been a long time since someone cared enough about him to get so mad at him, and that kiss…

    “Look, I know this is all for show…”

    You stepped back from him with a push. You were sure you’d misheard him, but the look on his face said otherwise. Guess it’s time for a three-peat.

    “Oh, now I get it!” you were angry. “Your ‘stupid’ has layers!”

    Your words hit their mark. Dean’s face matched your anger.

    “What?” he stood.

    “Do you see anyone else in here?” you stretched your arms wide in the small bathroom. “Who am I putting on a show for? I care about you no matter what happens at the end of this.”

    “I don’t want this to end!” he yelled back.

    “Well, neither do I!”

    In one long stride, he closed the space between you, gathered you to his body and finished the kiss he’d started with you out on the pond. His strong arms held you firmly to him. He’d grabbed you with such force, you had to hold onto him. It felt so good to have so little fabric between you. His body was still hot from the shower and he smelled wonderful.

    When you parted, he left you breathless and the light hurt when you opened your eyes. Dean reached for the switch and flipped off the light, not letting go his hold of you.

    “So, are we doing this for real?” he asked.

    “Dean, every moment I’ve had with you has been real. I want you in every meaning of the phrase,” you said.

    “I want you, too,” he said, the lust making his voice sound deeper. “And not just…” he groaned softly as you shifted your hips against him, “…oh hell, you know what I mean.”

    He surprised you by sweeping you up into his arms and carrying you to his bed.

[deamonangelus]

Kiss Me

Summary:  You met Sam through your shared lifestyles, specifically hunting.  There was never any other option for either of you, in the end the two of you fully expected to die bloody, or at least alone.  Neither of you expected to find each other, and one look at your eyes had Sam falling like he’d never fallen before.

Hey Hey make a story with sam but you have to use the lyrics to an ed sheeran song. 

Warnings:  Nothing outside the average Supernatural episode.  It’s pretty long though.  Mentions of alcohol, some angst.  No spoilers for new episodes, but if you haven’t gotten to the post-Leviathan era there are spoilers.  Songfic for Ed Sheeran’s ‘Kiss Me.’

Pairing: Reader x Sam (as per the request)

A/N: I HAVE RETURNED!!  I’m so sorry this took so long Anon!!  I’m so, so, so sorry!!

Settle down with me

Cover me up

Cuddle me up.

Lie down with me

And hold me in your arms.

 You were both hunters, you knew that when you met.  You were stopping by Bobby’s place, checking up on the old grouch that rescued you from the demons tracking you when you were only 10, and the old man had convinced you to stay for Thanksgiving.  You couldn’t say ‘no,’ he had been the only family you had since your parents were killed, a side effect of coming from an extensive line of untrained and overpowered psychics.  He was sure to teach you, give you the space and everything else you needed to get a grasp on your abilities, and had raised you like you were his own.

You loved that old bastard like he was your own father, even called him dad instead of Bobby.

Of course, being a few years younger than the youngest Winchester, Bobby had saved you a few years after John cut off all ties to his fellow Hunter.  You had never met the Winchester boys, but you saw the pictures and knew Bobby still loved them like they were his own sons, even if he couldn’t see them.

With your busy life, and their own chaotic lives, it was a few years until you actually met Sam and Dean.  You were in the kitchen, you loved to cook, making a big Thanksgiving dinner for the family of four.  You were worried, Bobby loved these boys like they were his own and you wanted them to at least like you.  Little did you know the scent of the apple pie in the oven would be enough for Dean to immediately welcome you as his baby sister.

As for Sam…well…

The second you looked up at him he caught sight of your eyes, hell your eyes were beautiful.

The second he saw your eyes, he started falling for you.

And your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck

I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet

And with a feeling I’ll forget, I’m in love now.

 It was an…unexpected turn of events, to be honest.  After the final seal was broken and the Apocalypse started, Sam didn’t know where else to go.  He knew Bobby would welcome him into his home, but he also knew Dean was going to be there.  Calling you and asking where you were being the logical response…no…it was his instinctual response.  He had come clean to you about everything over that one phone call; the demon blood, Ruby, starting the Apocalypse by killing Lilith, everything.  He was so scared you’d reject him. 

You just gave him the exact address to meet you at, and told him the two of you would take some time off until he felt up to hunting again-even if he never wanted to hunt again.

You hadn’t even thought about it.  You knew what it was like to be the freak in the Hunter community.  Perhaps not nearly as much as he did, but you were still an overcharged psychic and you were still treated like a freak.  Sam needed a safe place, and even without the crush you harbored for him, you were family.  More than that, he was one of the closest friends you ever had, you loved Jo dearly, but there was a difference between the freak with the knife collection and the freak that could speak to the dead and move objects with her mind.

He found home with you.  Even as he rejoined Dean and the family was back together again, you were right there with him.  Every second he looked in your eyes he fell farther in love with you, and he couldn’t look away from your eyes.  It was painfully obvious he was utterly smitten with you.  Every second you helped the Winchester brothers fight off the end of the world, he fell deeper and deeper for you.

 Kiss me like you wanna be loved

You wanna be loved

You wanna be loved

This feels like falling in love

Falling in love

We’re falling in love.

 Looking into your eyes, he felt ashamed.  He was deeply in love with you, irrevocably in love with you, and he couldn’t bare the thought of what he was about to do.  You knew everything, you were his support system, but he still couldn’t let you see him like this.  Knowing you would never think any less of him wouldn’t have allowed him to let you seem him drinking demon blood by the gallons, only to try to overpower Lucifer himself.  He just couldn’t let you see him like this.  If everything went wrong, he wanted you to remember him as anything but what he was.

He wanted you to remember him as the guy that cuddled with you as the two of you watched crap movies or binged Netflix or Hulu.  He wanted you to remember that, admittedly unwelcome, trip to Heaven the three of you shared as it was revealed meeting you was one of the best memories he had.  He wanted you to remember him as the one you’d trade favorite books with, binge reading as Dean drove the Impala and talking about the books you just read. He wanted you to remember him from that that first, and possibly last, kiss the two of you shared only seconds before he asked Bobby to make sure you didn’t see him like that.

You barely held back the sobs by holding your breath as long as you could, but that didn’t stop the tears or the way you shook.

 Settle down with me

And I’ll be your safety

You’ll be my lady.

I was made to keep your body warm

But I’m cold as the wind blows, so hold me in your arms.

 Sam had attempted to get you to promise to live a ‘civilian life.’  The two of you argued, you had gotten to the point you were screaming because you couldn’t even consider life without Sam anymore, but you came to an agreement as he held you close.  No matter what happened, you would find a place for yourself, not far from Sioux Falls, and stick to making a living as a Psychic and an expert for Hunters.  You did as you promised, but you still tried to reach out to Sam.  You failed to find a way to free him, but you could at least offer a form of comfort during his suffering.  It took a lot of effort, and a lot of practice, but you managed to reach him, even though his soul was in the deepest pits of Hell, during deep meditations.

You were utterly shocked to see him at your doorstep only 48 hours after speaking with him, last you knew he was still in Hell.  During your, then weekly, deep meditation you reached him yet again and were more confused by the situation.  Sam, even without his soul, felt an inexplicable attraction to you, and a physical need to keep you alive and close when he arrived at your doorstep. 

“Sam…” you whispered as you looked up at him, your eyes glistening with tears.  He didn’t answer verbally, instead pulling you into a heated kiss, picking you up with ease and kicking the door to your home shut as you wrapped your legs around his waist.  There was a physical satisfaction from carrying you to your bed and pinning you down against it he couldn’t explain, but he didn’t care.  The sex was, frankly, euphoric, for the both of you.

 Oh no

My heart’s against your chest, your lips pressed to my neck

I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet

And this feeling I’ll forget, I’m in love now.

 It wasn’t until Cas admitted to leaving Sam’s soul in the Cage that you had your answer, and as Sam lie comatose in Bobby’s bunker you could barely leave his side.  As he wandered the land of the living, without a soul, you barely had enough power to reach his mind and keep him from doing things he would regret.

You should have known he was missing his soul.  You should have known.  You were kicking yourself, you couldn’t believe you didn’t figure it out earlier. You spent hours, sitting by him and wiping the sweat from his brow.  By the time he woke up you had been up for days, despite Dean and Bobby’s attempts to get you to sleep.  They had even slipped you alcohol to try to get you to sleep, Bobby even tried mixing sleeping pills with food, and it never succeeded. Cas offered what condolences he could, but nobody would feel better until Sam woke up.

You were at your wit’s end, you had run out of tears and couldn’t live with yourself if Sam…

The signs were right in front of you, and you still couldn’t figure it out.  Hindsight is 20-20, but you should have known better-

“[Y/N]?” Sam’s voice was groggy as he woke up for the first time in days, registering it was you before he was conscious enough to register the dark circles under your tired eyes.  Your attention snapped directly to him, and once again he was lost in your eyes.  He didn’t know why his head was pounding, or why he felt what he could only describe as a mental itch, but as he looked up at you he couldn’t say he cared. You kept telling him it was nothing, something he’d get used to living with.

Something he should just leave alone.

He wished he had listened, as visions of Lucifer haunted him and taunted him with the idea that you were just a fever dream.  Being safe with you and Dean was just a pretend world, and any minute he could be ripped from the safety of your arms and your lips against his and land right back in the Cage.  There were times pressing on the cut in his palm didn’t help, and at those times he would desperately seek you out and pull you as close as he could, pressing a desperate kiss against your lips.

 Kiss me like you wanna be loved

You wanna be loved

You wanna be loved

This feels like falling in love

Falling in love

We’re falling in love.

 Yeah I’ve been feeling everything

From hate to love

From love to lust

From lust to truth

I guess that’s how I know you

So I hold you close to help you give it up.

 Things had gone unsaid, but understood.  You couldn’t say the two of you ever actually proclaimed your feelings for each other, not seriously anyway.  You vaguely remembered telling Sam you loved him when he got you the Chinese you were craving after about six or seven too many tequila shots with Charlie.  It wasn’t until Dean and Cas disappeared after killing Dick, ending the Leviathan threat, that things were finally put into words.  You would never be able to completely retire, you were a psychic, but Sam had a chance.  You were willing to split up, let him live a peaceful life, but he couldn’t let you go.

“Please!” he begged, eyes searching yours as he held your hands in his own, “I’ve lost everyone else…I can’t lose you too.  I love you.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you gently hushed as you pulled him down into a hug, standing on your toes as he was an entire foot taller than you, “I love you too, sasquatch.”

With a small, grateful, smile and a chuckle at your nickname for him, gently bumped his forehead against yours.  You couldn’t help but laugh, calling him a giant nerd and pulling him in for a gentle, loving kiss.  You weren’t going anywhere, you were going to stay right by his side as long as he wanted, for as long as he needed you.

 So kiss me like you wanna be loved

You wanna be loved

You wanna be loved

This feels like falling in love

Falling in love

We’re falling in love.

 Kiss me like you wanna be loved

You wanna be loved

You wanna be loved

This feels like falling in love

Falling in love

We’re falling in love.