#no i don't want to talk about how long that damn crossword took

[punkshort]

Recovery

Summary: You care for Joel while he is on the mend from his injury. (Part two of Three Days)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader, established relationship, set in the TWWW universe, no use of Y/N.

Warnings: language, discussion of injury, soft!Joel, smut (18+ MDNI), fingering, handjob, dirty talk, oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: I didn't expect part one to be so well received, thank you everyone who liked/commented and wanted to be tagged in this story! I'm a little nervous about this one and I don't know if I like it now, I hope I did it justice.

Part Two

"C'mon, it ain't that far, I just wanna stretch my legs a bit," Joel said to you from the couch. You shook your head and gave him a stern look.

"Bill said you need to stay off that leg at least another week, you're just going to have to wait," you said as you finished making lunch. You placed his sandwich with a small salad on a tray and brought it over to the living room, where Joel had taken up residence for almost the past month while he healed. Under strict orders not to put unnecessary weight on his leg, he had been stuck on the couch during the warmest stretch of summer yet, and it was causing him to be a difficult patient.

"I'm losin' my mind here," he grumbled as he took a bite of sandwich. You rolled your eyes and bit your tongue as you went to go clean up the kitchen. You were doing your best to take care of him, and he was very agreeable in the beginning, but as his strength built up, so did his boredom.

"You're not invincible, you know. All you need to do is sit there and let us take care of you," you said over your shoulder. "Then you can do whatever you want."

"I feel fine, I don't need you hoverin' over me all the damn time," he said sharply. Shocked, you looked over at him from the kitchen. His eyes were cast down and focused on his food, completely unphased by how hurtful he was being. You turned away without saying anything in return as tears sprung to your eyes.

His recovery wasn't easy on you, either. You had to learn how to be a nurse in just a few short hours so he could have the comforts of home as soon as the doctor cleared him. At the time, you had been so exhausted from sleeping on a lumpy cot on the floor, but you put all your energy into paying close attention to what Bill, Jackson's resident doctor, and Carrie, his nurse, were telling you. They taught you how to take his blood pressure, change and clean his dressings, and a few physical therapy exercises you had to help him with daily. Not to mention the handful of medications you had to keep straight and the long list of "red flag" signs you had to remember. But you didn't mind, because it meant he was going to come home, and he was going to be okay. So, to hear him sound so ungrateful more than hurt your feelings.

You sniffled quietly before turning back around. He had finished eating and picked up a crossword, oblivious to your reaction. Taking a shaky breath in, you strode over to the living room to pick up his tray.

"Tommy's going to be here soon, I have to work this afternoon," you mumbled. Joel huffed and kept working on his crossword.

"Don't need him hoverin' over me, either. I'll be fine by myself. Could use the peace and quiet, anyway," he said, the last part mostly under his breath, but you still heard it.

You angrily dropped the dishes into the sink, making him jump and look up from across the living room.

"What the hell?" he yelled, his brows furrowed.

"Yeah, 'what the hell' is right, Joel," you replied with your hand on your hip and your lower lip trembling. "Maybe try showing a little gratitude for the people who are taking time out of their day to help you."

"I didn't ask for any help, I can take care of myself!" he shouted.

"No, you can't! You could have died, you asshole!" you yelled right back. One tear slid down your cheek, but he was too far away to notice it.

"Whoa! What's with all the yellin'?" Tommy said as he entered the kitchen. He looked back and forth between you and Joel, the two of you glaring at the other. He did a double take when he noticed you turn and subtly wipe the tears from your cheek.

"It's nothin'," Joel finally said, his voice quieter but still strained, and turned back to his crossword. Tommy took a step toward you and was about to speak, but you cut him off.

"I gotta go. Thanks for coming by, Tommy," you said quietly, and hurriedly made your way out the front door.

Tommy ticked his jaw to the side as he stared at the closed door for a moment before turning around, eyeing up Joel warily as he joined him in the living room.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Tommy asked with a sigh as he crossed his legs, his ankle coming to rest on the top of his knee.

"I didn't do anythin'," Joel muttered, tossing the crossword down angrily before he continued. "I'm sick of bein' cooped up, I just wanted to take a short walk."

"Didn't Bill say you can't do that til next week?"

"Yeah, but c'mon, Tommy. I know my body, I know what I can do. I just wanted her help with this one thing-"

"One thing?" Tommy repeated, cutting Joel off. "One thing?! That girl's been killin' herself for you for a goddamn month, takin' care of everythin' around here and you think you're only askin' her for 'one thing'?"

Joel scoffed and crossed his arms, averting his gaze to look outside.

"This ain't none of your business, anyway," Joel replied, still avoiding his brother's glare.

"The hell it ain't," Tommy said bitterly, dropping his foot to the ground so he could lean closer to Joel, hoping to make his next words stick.

"I watched that girl fall apart that night. She wouldn't eat. She wouldn't sleep. She was fuckin' scared, Joel. I never saw her like that, ever," Tommy said firmly, watching as Joel's mouth twitched but kept his gaze directed out the window. "You ever think about that? 'Bout what she went through? She nearly tore the place down tryin' to get to you. Never left your side. She woulda cut her arms wide open so you could take her blood had Holly taken any longer to get there."

Joel's eyes dropped to the floor and he pursed his lips as he absorbed what Tommy said.

"That right?" Joel asked softly.

"Yeah, that's right. What the hell you think, Joel? For some reason, she loves you and would do anythin' for you. So maybe quit thinkin' about yourself for once," Tommy snapped, leaning back in his chair.

"I just feel so goddamn useless, Tommy," Joel said quietly, still looking at the ground. "I hate sittin' around like this."

Tommy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Think of it like a vacation, because I'm gonna have your ass back on patrol as soon as possible, and you'll miss havin' your own personal nurse around, waitin' on you hand and foot."

Tommy picked up an old magazine and began leafing through it.

"You wanna watch a movie or somethin'?" Tommy asked, his eyes still glued to the magazine.

"Sure, yeah, pick whatever you want," Joel mumbled, lost in thought.

You came home from work, feeling guilty that you enjoyed the break away from the house, but you couldn't deny that a few hours helped quell your anger. Sighing, you walked into the kitchen to find Tommy doing the dishes.

"Oh, Tommy, you don't have to do that," you said as you walked up next to him and leaned against the counter, your back to the living room and Joel.

"It's no trouble, darlin'," Tommy said with a grin as he finished the last plate. "I fed the beast, so you try to take it easy tonight, yeah?"

You smirked at his nickname for Joel and nodded.

"Sure. Thanks again for sitting with him while I worked, we both appreciate it," you told him while he dried his hands and gave Joel a quick wave as you walked him to the front door.

"Anytime. I also set him straight for you," he said quietly with a wink. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. As if that man could ever be reasoned with.

"Good night, Tommy," you said as you shut the door. You took a deep breath, digging deep to find the patience to deal with Joel for the rest of the night. You really hoped he wasn't going to continue your argument from earlier. Between his round the clock care and your job, you were barely getting any sleep, and you just didn't have the energy to fight any more.

"Hey," you said tiredly as you made your way into the living room. Joel looked up from the TV when you spoke and reached for the remote to turn it down. You were about to collapse into the loveseat across from him when he stopped you.

"Why don't you come sit by me?" he asked softly. You gave him a look before you nodded and sat down on his left, leaning on the arm of the couch as you tucked your legs under you.

"What are you watching?" you asked with a yawn, trying to place the movie playing on the screen.

"Tired?" he asked, ignoring your question. You nodded, your eyes still on the TV. He reached out to place a hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze, finally drawing your attention onto him.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said as he absentmindedly rubbed your leg. "I shouldn't've said all that to you, I didn't mean it. I appreciate everythin' you're doin' for me, I'm just... restless, or somethin'. And I took it out on you."

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised, as you stared into his deep, brown eyes. Eyes that were filled with shame and regret. You rested one of your hands on top of his, your thumb rubbing small circles over his knuckles.

"It's alright," you told him with a small smile. "I'm sorry, too."

"What are you sorry for?" Joel asked. You paused for a moment, opening your mouth to answer, but he cut you off.

"Are you sorry for spendin' all your time takin' care of some old, ungrateful jackass?"

The corner of your mouth twitched before you replied.

"You're not that old," you teased, and he smirked. "I just let all the stress get to me. It's fine, really. Maybe I'll go to bed early tonight, or something."

"Hm," he said, turning back to the TV.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothin'. Just was thinkin' maybe I can help you relax, considerin' how much you do for me," he said lowly, looking down as his fingers inched up your leg and brushed underneath the hem of your shorts.

"You have a broken pelvis, remember?" you said with a laugh.

"Yeah, but my fingers work just fine," he said, looking up at you and leaning over. His gaze darkened as he let his hand slide down between your legs, running his finger up the seam of your denim shorts and pressing gently against your clothed heat. You gasped and gripped his wrist.

"Joel," you whispered in a poor attempt to stop him as heat immediately bloomed between your legs. "You don't have to."

"I know. I wanna take care of you for once, please let me," he begged, leaning closer and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, tugging you towards him so he could slot his lips against yours while his other hand made its way to your hip, squeezing you there before he reached for the button of your jeans.

"Take these off," he whispered against your mouth after he pulled your zipper all the way down. You eagerly lifted your hips to pull down your underwear and shorts in one go, then brought your arms up to wrap around his neck as his tongue slid past your lips.

You were still sitting next to each other, the cast on his leg prohibiting him from doing much except sitting and laying on his back. You frowned when you realized this and pulled back, his mouth falling to your neck instead.

"How?" you asked him breathily. You slid your eyes shut and tilted your head back so he could gain better access to the underside of your jaw, letting out a low moan when he located your pulse point, his scratchy beard rubbing on your delicate skin.

"Sit on my lap," he mumbled against you before tipping his head in the other direction so he could pay the same mind to the other side of your throat.

"But, your -" you began, about to point out his many injuries were still healing before he cut you off.

"Sit on my fuckin' lap," he growled impatiently, his hands falling to your hips and giving you a forceful tug towards him. You decided to compromise, swinging your leg over to straddle him while you hovered above his hips, being mindful of applying too much weight. You brought your hands up to cup his face and crushed his lips with a bruising kiss, feverishly licking inside his mouth as you realized just how much you missed him, and that it had been so long since he last touched you. Even before the accident, his patrol route was exhausting him to the point where he was falling asleep before the sun set.

"Look at you," he whispered as he tipped his head back, breaking the kiss and looking you up and down, his eyes lingering at the way you were spread open for him. "I'm the luckiest son of a bitch in the world."

You felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, still taken aback at the change in him from just a few hours ago.

"Wow, what happened here when I was gone?" you asked him teasingly as you raked your fingers through his dark curls. Your breath hitched as he ran both his palms slowly up your bare thighs, squeezing gently as he made his way closer to the ache between your legs.

"Me and Tommy had a talk," he said, watching your face closely as his finger slid along your folds, causing you to jump.

"Easy," Joel murmured softly while pressing a warm kiss against your collarbone. You sighed and rolled your shoulders, trying to relax.

"It's been so long, Joel," you whimpered, trying to explain your reaction.

"I know, sweetheart," he cooed, bringing his middle finger back up to trace your seam again while his other hand held your hip steady this time. "Should be a fuckin' crime. You deserve to be worshipped every single day."

Joel sunk his middle finger inside you right as he finished his sentence, making you toss your head back with a moan. He smirked, always pleased he could pull those sounds out of you while he looked up to admire your face. Your eyes were squeezed shut, brows pinched, and your mouth hung open as you focused on the sensation of his thick finger stretching you out for the first time in weeks.

"So tight," he grunted, his eyes glazed over as he watched you struggle to find your breath while his finger slowly pumped in and out of your pulsing cunt. "Gotta relax."

You swallowed roughly and nodded, opening your eyes and softening your brow as you sucked air in through your parted lips. Once you felt yourself adjust, you began to bounce lightly on his hand, trying to match his rhythm, your fingertips digging into his shoulders for leverage.

"More," you whispered, licking your lips. Joel couldn't help the smug grin that spread across his face as he pulled his middle finger out of your pussy and popped it into his mouth, along with his pointer finger. You groaned when he gave you a satisfied wink at the taste. He brought his fingers back between your legs and pushed them both inside, your cunt immediately gripping his digits at the intrusion.

"Shit, that's it," Joel groaned, curling his fingers against your warm walls while he watched you bounce up and down on his hand again, this time with more force. You dropped your head to rest on his shoulder, your fingers digging harder into his arms.

"Remind me to thank Tommy tomorrow," you panted in his ear as a familiar pressure began building in your lower abdomen and warmth crawled up your chest and neck.

"He told me. 'Bout that night," he said through clenched teeth, trying to ignore his painfully hard cock. His other hand was held firmly on your hip, guiding you up and down to match the rhythm of his flicking wrist. He felt your hips stutter as you processed what he said, then you slowed down and leaned back to look at him.

"What about it?" you asked him quietly. He could sense your demeanor changing, so he lifted his thumb up to press against your clit, earning a sharp gasp from your throat before you reached down to stop him.

"What about it?" you asked again, firmly this time, staring down at him. He removed his hand from your hip so he could wrap it around the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing gently against your jaw.

"Told me how tore up you were, tryin' to see me," he whispered, his fingers pumping in and out of you painfully slow as he spoke. "How you couldn't eat or sleep, wouldn't leave my side." He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he felt his eyes begin to water. He blinked quickly before asking, "all that true?"

You sniffed and nodded before you began to roll your hips against his hand again. His thumb stroked along your jaw as you gazed at each other, the atmosphere in the room shifting to one more serious.

"I was so scared, Joel," you admitted quietly, your voice small. "I thought you were going to die."

Your lower lip trembled for a moment as you reached up to run your finger gently down his stubbled cheek and then again down the length of his nose as if to remind yourself he was real, that he lived and he was going to be okay. You let out a soft whimper when he pressed his thumb back against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves.

"It's okay, I'm right here," he whispered, pulling you down so he could press his lips against your mouth quickly before resting his forehead on yours. He dropped his hand back to your hip and urged you to go faster, curling his fingers inside you again until he found that spot that made your back arch.

"I can't lose you," you gasped as two tears slid down your cheeks. You pressed your forehead into his harder now, the muscles in your stomach tightening as his fingers expertly began to pull an orgasm out of you. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, sweetheart," he said, leaning forward to suck a bruise into the delicate skin on your throat. His chest ached for causing you so much pain, wishing desperately he could take it all away.

You felt yourself clamp down on his fingers as his thumb slid back and forth across your clit, quickly bringing you to the edge.

"Shit, I'm -" you gasped and tilted your head back, unable to finish your sentence as you felt your orgasm begin to wash over you, a filthy moan erupting from your throat. Your legs shook and your vision went spotty as you felt your neck and face flush from the intensity.

"Ohmygod, Joel - fuck - " you cried out, swinging your head forward to rest on his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, I love makin' you feel good," he mumbled against you, gently biting at your earlobe. His fingers slowed inside you, waiting until he felt your body relax before he pulled them out to palm his erection through his sweatpants. You hissed at the loss, your cunt clenching around nothing, already missing his touch.

Forehead still resting on his shoulder, you panted lightly for breath, and glancing down, watched as he ran his hand aggressively up and down his clothed cock, trying to find some relief. A lazy smirk spread across your face.

You reached down to swat his hand away and dipped your fingers below his waistband. Your other hand gripped the sweatpants you cut a pantleg off so he could fit his casted leg through, and, giving them a little tug down, watched as his hard length bobbed up and slapped against his stomach.

Wrapping your hand gently around his cock, you slowly began to drag your fist up and down, your thumb brushing over his slit and collecting the wetness there.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you - ouch," he gasped with a wince. You froze and lifted your hips up even higher, glancing down to make sure you didn't accidentally sit on him.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" you asked, letting him go as you were about to swing your leg back over, but his hand shot up to stop you, gripping your thigh firmly to hold you in place.

"You're fine, wasn't you," he rasped, opening his eyes to look at you. "I moved my hips. When you touched me, I - nevermind, keep goin'," he said with a shake of his head and reached for your hand, placing it back around his erection.

"Are you sure?" you asked, but began to slowly move your fist up and down anyway. He nodded, his eyes sliding shut while he leaned his head back on the couch cushion.

"Yeah. Fuck, that's it - faster," he mumbled, one eye peering open so he could find your wrist to show you the pace he preferred.

"So impatient," you teased with a smirk, and he huffed. "But that's okay," you whispered, leaning forward as you twisted your wrist up and down his cock, feeling it pulse under your fingertips. "I'll give you whatever you want, baby."

"Don't say shit like that to me, gonna make me come way too fast" he said with a groan, his fingers releasing their death grip on your leg to press firmly against your overly sensitive clit again, making you cry out.

"Oh god, Joel," you whined, your head falling forward on his shoulder again. You could feel the tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your thighs shook, your body still too sensitive from your first orgasm.

"Can't wait til I can fuck you again," he gasped, another dribble of precum trickling over his tip as your fist continued to work him up and down. "I'm gonna spend the whole day inside this perfect little pussy, you hear me?"

You nodded, your head still resting on his shoulder, your eyes closed and your mouth agape as his fingers pressed quick circles over your clit. The pain from the overstimulation quickly subsided as your stomach began to tighten again, your breaths coming in short drags.

"Whole town's gonna hear you screamin' my name," he continued to ramble, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the white-hot flames begin to burn in his lower abdomen. "All fuckin' day. Gonna be filled with my cock, or my fingers, or my tongue. You ain't gonna be able to walk the next day, I can promise you that."

You gasped his name, cunt pulsing around nothing as you felt a trickle of your release drip down your leg, his filthy words taking you right over the edge of your second orgasm. Your hand only paused for a second on his cock before you continued to jerk him up and down, faster now, wanting him to join you.

"Shit, I'm gonna come," Joel groaned, his hand falling from your center and his head leaning back so he could watch your fist work him.

"Wait," you said, shakily lifting your hips so you could bring your feet to the ground between his legs. Gently, you nudged his good leg to the side so he would give you more room to sink to your knees before him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue before wrapping your fingers around his cock again. You tapped the underside of his tip on the warm surface of your tongue, letting him know where you wanted it. With a low moan and his fingers clutching your hair, he watched, entranced, as his hot, white ropes of cum covered your tongue, his gaze darkening as you stared him right in the eye and swallowed with a smirk.

"I mean it, sweetheart," he panted, unblinking with a shake of his head. "All day. All fuckin' day."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Mr. Miller," you told him, standing up and bracing yourself with your arms planted on either side of his head. You leaned down to give him a soft kiss before you twisted your body, collapsing on the couch next to him and tiredly pulling your clothes back on.

You laid there for a while, the side of your head resting on his good leg as you both caught your breath and stared mindlessly at the TV, not absorbing any of the dialogue while his fingers drew lazy circles on your back.

"I'm sorry I put you through all this," he said, breaking the silence. You turned your head so you could look up at him while he spoke. "Shoulda been more careful. That place was fallin' apart, I don't know what the hell I was thinkin'."

He looked down to meet your gaze, his eyes flitting across your face before he tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

"You were thinking you had a town to help protect," you told him, sitting up. "That's what you do. You keep us safe, and you find things to bring back to help us survive." You reached a hand out to cup his face. "All that matters is you're going to be okay."

"No," he said, his hand coming up to cover the one you had pressed against his cheek. "You are all that matters." He pulled your hand away, giving it a quick kiss before holding it in his lap. "You are all I care about keepin' safe."

His eyes fluttered shut a moment before he sighed and opened them again.

"I've been lookin' for you my whole damn life. I ain't gonna fuck it up now," he said, his voice pained. "I promise you, I'll be more careful."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in to press your mouth against his, your lips pulling at his lower lip tenderly before leaning back. His hand came up to grip your chin, his thumb running gently over your lip.

"Will you sleep down here with me tonight?" he asked you earnestly. You nodded right away.

"Of course," you said with a small smile. "I was already planning on it."

The couch wasn't very big, so since his injury, you've been sleeping alone in bed. But after the emotional day, you each felt the urge to remain close. So, you gathered your pillows and an extra blanket and made yourself a bed on the loveseat, but somehow ended up squeezed onto the couch with Joel, curled up at his side, right where you both belonged.

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[caranfindel]

Recap/review 14.11: “Damaged Goods”

THEN: Oh, good, we're going to have a Nick episode. I was hoping for that. (NOT.) Michael is trapped in Dean's internal walk-in. Billie has bad news related to that.

NOW: Nick interrogates a demon about another demon named Abraxis. The name sounds a little familiar and I waste a few seconds wondering where I've heard it before, but then I realize it's the demon who killed Nick's family and this has been Nick's entire focus and that's how little I care about Nick and his quest, that I couldn't even bother to remember who he was after. Anyway, he learns that the hunter who last dealt with Abraxis is in Hibbing. Oooh, who else do we know in Hibbing?

Title card!

Dean is packing. Books about angels. Tools. Work gloves. I was a little afraid we were going to ignore last week's horrifying revelation, and Dean would just sit on that information for a while. But he's wearing his Red Shirt of Bad Decisions, so we know the shit is going down tonight! \o/

He leaves the storeroom and kind of looks down the hallway, which is really insignificant the first time you watch this episode, but on rewatch you realize what he's thinking right here, and that he doesn't ever expect to see this hallway again... but I'm getting ahead of myself. He goes into the library, where Sam is quietly studying in the darkness (is that a new shirt? I like it). He ignores it when Sam asks how he's feeling. Dean tells Sam he appreciates that he's trying to help him, and Sam's all, yeah, what else would I do? He asks if Dean wants to join him, and they have this conversation.

Actually, I thought I'd go for a drive, you know, just me and Baby, long stretch of road. And figured I'd make it a two-fer, go see Mom at Donna's cabin.

Yeah, yeah, that sounds great. Be good to see them. Just let me find a stopping point and get packed up.

Actually, I was, uh, I was kind of hoping for some one-on-one time with Mom, if that's cool.

Yeah. Sure, yeah. Whatever you need.

And I thought this conversation was going to break my heart, because Sam clearly does NOT think this trip sounds great, but he's going to go anyway because it's what Dean wants/needs to do, and then Dean rejects that, and Sam's little face is going to do me in. And on rewatch, it kind of seems like Dean is stalling here, like he can't bring himself to leave (but again, I'm getting ahead of myself) AND THEN THIS HAPPENS.

Dean comes around behind Sam and HUGS HIM and says "take care, Sammy" and I'm just WHAAAAT. NO THIS IS NOT RIGHT. THIS IS SUCH A BAD, BAD SIGN, SAM WINCHESTER, AND YOU KNOW IT.

And also, there goes the rest of my heart.

Cut to Mary at the aforementioned cabin, talking to Sam on the phone. She says the cabin's been quiet since Bobby took off for a few days. The old "I need a little space after killing the ghoul version of my dead son" thing. Happens to the best of us. Sam tells her he's worried because Dean's acting so weird, and mentions the hug. Mary says "that's sweet," proving that she doesn't know her sons at all. Really, Mary, you've witnessed ONE hug between them. ONE. Sam points out that they don't hug unless it's "literally the end of the world," which isn't quite true. It would be more accurate to say "unless one of us is dying or just came back from the dead," which is slightly more frequent than the end of the world Either way, Mary assures him that everything will be fine. But as Sam's talking to her, he's walking through the storerooms in the bunker and he sees some books are missing.

(Sidebar: Why are these books kept in the storeroom and not the library? And why are regular tools apparently kept with supernatural paraphernalia? Couldn't that cause problems? What if a MoL novice was sent to Storeroom 2 for a reciprocating saw and he couldn't figure out why a saw would reciprocate or what that would look like and he came back with something he dug out of a curse box instead? I'm seeing all kinds of potential OSHA violations here.)

Now we see Dean enjoying a messy burger. Oh, he's with Donna! I love Dean and Donna, y'all. She tries to ask him about himself, but he keeps deflecting. Which doesn't fool her at all, and she finally says "just wondering if you've run out of ways to ask me how I'm doing, so as to avoid me repaying the favor." She knows about Michael, because of Sam. "What, has he got a freaking newsletter," Dean grumps. But I'm glad to see Sam's been talking to his support system, because in the past, he's not done that as often as he should.

Dean ends the conversation with the typical "I'm fine" nonsense and gives Donna one of those big hugs where he looks absolutely stricken while she can't see him and then plasters on a smile when they pull apart, and you KNOW how I love when he does that. He pulls away and says "I'll see ya." But it's pretty obvious Dean is on his farewell tour and never intends to see Donna again. It's also pretty obvious that Donna can tell something is up.

Dean pulls up to the cabin, which is seriously in need of some work on the roof, and immediately hears gunshots. It turns out to be Mary murdering some pumpkins for target practice. (SHE'S STILL GOT THAT LOCK OF TOO-LONG HAIR.) He tells her he wants to stick around for a couple of days, which surprises her. She suggests they call Sam to join them, but he says he wants to be "a little greedy with my Mom time." No, Dean, that's not suspicious at all. Jesus. (Or, as someone pointed out, Sorry Sam, but Mom was MY gift.)

Mary pushes it, and Dean comes right out and says "I don't want Sam here," and again, Dean, that's not suspicious at all. How is someone who lies professionally such a BAD liar? He explains his mood away by claiming to be hangry, even though he just finished the best burger in all of Minnesota, and tells Mary he wants the one thing she can cook, something called Winchester Surprise. She heads out to the grocery store, and doesn't suggest that the son who drove all this way to see her would want to ride along. Or maybe she does, and he refuses, and they just didn't show us that part. Anyway, the important thing is, Dean's alone and he has work to do.

He gets his bag out of the Impala and strides purposely into a large shed decorated with pictures of topless guys with 70s porn 'staches. The first one reminds me a LOT of Doug 2.0, so I laugh when Dean says "Well, Donna certainly has a type." Yes she does. He finds an 8-track player, of all things, but is interrupted by a sudden burst of Michael banging on his door. The tape he chooses is the Guess Who, and the song is "No Time Left For You," which I've never liked (lots of experience with 70s music here, kiddos) but it seems appropriate. And then he gets to work, and if you thought Sam soldering last week was hot, you're in for a treat. Let's forget our annoyance with the soundtrack and concentrate on how much we appreciate Metalworking!Dean, complete with welding helmet and safety goggles, under the watchful eyes of several shirtless moustachioed cowboys.

Mmmm, yes, we do appreciate it.

(Sidebar: Where did all this metal come from?)

Meanwhile, at the grocery store, we get a fake-out where we think someone threatening is accosting Mary, but it's only a friendly employee. And we also see that Mary puts her grocery bags in the bed of her truck? So not only does she not know how to cook, but she doesn't even know where to PUT FOOD? I.e., IN THE CAB?

He says buying food is new for her, because she usually buys whiskey, pumpkins, and crossword puzzles. Damn, Mary, it really seems like things aren't going well out there at the Love Shack if you're spending all day drinking, shooting pumpkins, and doing crossword puzzles. I'm gonna go ahead and call it - Mobby is doomed. She tells him she has family in town, which I expect to turn into the inevitable oh no, this guy is a demon and now he knows Dean is there.

But I'm exactly wrong. Nick pulls up in the creepiest windowless van possible and asks the guy if he knows where Mary Winchester is. Because why wouldn't he? Why wouldn't Random Grocery Store Guy know where everyone in Hibbing Minnesota, population 16,361, resident or guest, lives? Random Grocery Store Guy pretends he doesn't know who she is. Good for him.

(BTW, the fastest route from Lebanon to Hibbing is about 12.5 hours. But it's all interstate and I suspect either Winchester would take the route that uses more state highways and is 13.5 hours.)

(Sidebar: Yes, when I open Mapquest, Lebanon is always in my Recents. Is that not normal?)

Apparently Nick decides he'll just cruise the greater Hibbing area and try to find her, because we seem him after nightfall driving his creepy van. A police car drives by, and then turns around and pulls him over. He makes sure his stolen angel blade is in place and hides a paperclip somewhere on his person before the officer gets to him. Oooh, it's Donna!

She cuffs him and tells him the van's been reported stolen, but she also reveals she knows he's looking for Mary, and don't like the way she lays all her cards on the table like that. Let him think you're just arresting him for a stolen car, Donna. Don't let him know you're onto his Grand Scheme. He says his name is "Nunya" and then "Eat Me" (oooh, is he related to the Eat Me Sam met a few seasons ago?), but she's got some kind of mobile fingerprint scanner. Does this thing exist? She discovers who he is, but while her back is turned, he uses his paperclip to get out of the cuffs. They fight, and she seems to have the upper hand, but he gets her taser and that's the end of that.

Love Shack. When Mary pulls up, Dean is outside by the door to the Shed of Mysterious Building. He lies about what he's doing out there and carries the groceries inside, to where the table is set and he wants to help her cook (THIS IS NOT OKAY) and she FINALLY realizes something is up. (Also, Dean, we know you're not a terrible cook. Don't lie just to make your mom feel better.) She quietly talks to Sam from upstairs (though not quietly enough, Dean totally would have heard her in the real world) and agrees that something is going on. Sam tells her about the missing items and says he thinks he should come up, but she says to give her more time. WHY, MARY. WHY DO YOU THINK YOU ARE THE PERSON TO ADDRESS THIS AND NOT SAM. WHY DO YOU INSIST ON KEEPING HIM 13.5 HOURS AWAY. WHY. It doesn't matter, because when Sam hangs up, we see he's already on his way. YES. THAT'S MY BOY.

Dinner. Dean tells a funny/tragic story about their childhood and Mary gets a case of The Sads, realizing how much she's missed and "how much the two of you just..." Just everything, Mary. They just EVERYTHING. Together. Without John, without you. AND STILL YOU THINK SAM SHOULD SIT IN THE BUNKER AND LET YOU HANDLE THIS. DAMMIT, MARY.

Anyway. Dean says her being alive has meant "everything to me, and everything to Sam." He claims to appreciate this wonderful time they're having, but he falters when he says "there's no clouds on the horizon." Because it's a LIE. She tells him he can talk to her about whatever he's going through, and he says "Everybody keeps asking me how I am. And how I am, is I don't want to talk about it. Please."

Oh lord, his face.

Later, as he snores gently on the couch, we see Mary tiptoe downstairs and outside, to check out what's happening in the Shed of Mysterious Building. (Sidebar: Dean sleeps with one arm flung behind his back, which I think we first saw in No Escape, and I always thought it was an odd and fake-looking way to sleep until I realized I actually do that sometimes myself.) She looks through the books and things and figures out what he's doing and it must be bad because she says "no, no, no." Meanwhile, Donna is waking up inside her own cruiser. I wonder why Nick left her alive?

Dean wakes up to the sound of a ringing phone. It's not his, it's Mary's. Donna is calling to warn him about Nick. But it's too late, because when Dean goes outside, Mary isn't there. But Sam is. "Hey, whoa, easy!" he says, facing down Dean's gun, and that tickles me for some reason.

Creepy van. Nick whines to Mary. He found email from Mary in Donna's phone, giving the address of the Love Shack. He thinks Mary knows where Abraxis is. She does - the demon is trapped inside an Enochian puzzle box in a storage locker, locately conveniently in or near Hibbing. I don't care about any of this.

At the Love Shack, Sam blames himself for Nick running around like a free madman, because of course he does. Donna's APB gets a result - the creepy van has been spotted outside Grand Rapids. Donna says that's 30-40 minutes away, but Grand Rapids is actually 11.5 hours away from Hibbing. Maybe there's a little town called Grand Rapids near Hibbing. A town so small that Mapquest doesn't even know about it.

(I KNOW. NO ONE CARES. MOVING ON.)

Nick gets the Enochian puzzle box (yeah, this scene goes on FOREVER and I'm skipping a lot here, is anyone complaining? nope didn't think so) and wants to release the demon so they can talk. Mary points out that the demon needs a host to talk, and it can't be Nick and it can't be her, and she flashes an anti-possession tattoo as explanation. So drills the box open and Nick forces the storage locker employee to be the host. Abraxis says he'll tell Nick why they killed his family if he kills Mary slow and bloody.

While this is happening, we see Sam and Dean on that 30 minute/11.5 hour drive to Grand Rapids. Sam looks despondent, and they have this conversation:

Say it. I can see you want to. Might as well go ahead and say it.

All right. Nick is not a project. He's not a freaking puppy. He was Lucifer's vessel for years.

I know that, Dean, I thought -

You thought he'd what, just walk it off? Come on, man, you're not that dumb.

It's not about being dumb, Dean, it's called compassion. Look, what happened to Nick could have happened to me. It almost happened to me. You change one little thing in our past and that WAS me! Lucifer wearing ME to the prom. Besides, since when do we give up on people? Since when do we just cut people loose?

Well, maybe you need to learn, okay? Because when people are past the point of saving, maybe you need to learn to walk away.

Ouch. I hurt for both of them. Poor Sam, seeing himself in Nick and wanting to save that guy the way he wishes someone had wanted to save him. Having faith in Nick's potential the way he wanted someone, anyone, to have faith in his own. And Dean obviously isn't talking about Nick, at least not there at the end, because we've heard it from Dean before, talking about himself. I can't be saved; walk away.

The guys arrive at the storage locker just in time to stop Nick from killing Mary slow and bloody. Nick scratches out the devil's trap that's holding the demon, and Abraxis immediately tosses them around and tells Nick he was chosen completely at random. Damn, Nick is as whiny as Lucifer was. (I wonder who influenced who? Discuss.)

Dean tries to quietly exorcise the demon, but Abraxis flings him against a shelf and we get a flash of skin. But before he can start killing anyone, Nick stabs him with the stolen angel blade. Then Nick acts like he's going to stab the others if they don't let him escape, so Donna shoots him in the leg. Dammit, Donna, this was the perfect opportunity to kill him. He already killed one person, and he was threatening to kill the rest of you. It would have been a clean shoot. Instead, Mary punches the wounded whiny baby and Sam does a wee little version of his glorious post-exertion huff.

Outside, Sam gives Nick a sad, confused look.

Why?

I needed the truth, Sam. I needed revenge for my family. You would have done the same thing.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't help you, I'm sorry I didn't know how.

It's not about you, Sam. It was never about you. You couldn't fix me because I didn't want to be fixed. I was never broken.

Yeah, Nick, you are. I don't feel sorry for you, Nick. I feel sorry for the people you hurt, the people you murdered. The people whose faces will haunt you every night for the rest of your life. You can burn.

FUUUUUCK. That's cold as hell and it's not like Sam Winchester at all and I love it to pieces. He's finally given up on this asshole. But it's finally time to move away from the B plot, and Mary tells Dean she saw what he was building in the shed. She knows what he's building, she knows what he's planning, and the three of them ARE going to talk about it. And if he doesn't tell Sam, she will. So, you finally think Sam's input is important, Mary? Good to know.

When the sun rises, we're back at the Shed of Mysterious Building. Dean is showing Sam what he's done. He calls it something like a "maloch box," which I'm sure is spelled wrong. It looks like a giant coffin (yeah, about that...) Nothing can escape it, not even an archangel. Sam knows what they are but says they're impossible to build, and Dean's all, "not so much." And then they have this conversation and I'm sorry (no I'm not), but I had to transcribe the whole thing.

That's your plan? You want to be buried alive?

Buried's not safe enough. Plan is, pay a little hush money, charter a boat to take me out to the Pacific. Splash.

You and Michael, trapped, together, for eternity.

Yeah.

You do realize how insane this is, right?

It's the only sane play I've got. Michael gets out, that's it for this world. And he will get out.

How do you know that for sure?

Because I do. Because I can feel him, in my head. That door is giving. I can feel it giving.

There has to be another way.

There's not, okay? There's... Sam, you've tried. Cas has tried. Jack. And I love you for trying, but none of it's going to work.

But we don't know that!

Yeah, we do.

What?

Billie. She paid me a little visit. She said that there's only one way that this ends right. And this is it. This, right here. This box. So she gave up the special recipe and all I had to do was the work. It's fate.

Since when do we believe in fate?

Now, Sam. Since now.

So, you came out here, to see Donna, to see Mom, on some what, some sick secret farewell tour? You were gonna leave, and you weren't even gonna tell me. Me. Do you realize how messed up that is? How unfair that is?

I didn't have a choice! Sam, you're the last person I could tell, the last person I could be around, cause you're the only one that could have talked me out of it! And I won't be talked out of it. I won't. I'm doing this. Now you can either let me do it alone, or you could help me. But I'm doing this.

...

All right.

Oh, guys.

Well, I've got to admit, Dean's prophesied horrifying death was a letdown. First, because it wasn't even new - it was basically the same fate Death offered him when he had the MoC. Worse, sure. Being locked in a box with an angry archangel rather than floating in space and having some kind of dream life, never a good option. (ASK SAM. HE KNOWS.) But mostly because it didn't live up to his reaction when he first read Billie's book. I was sure (and I wasn't alone) that his tearful reaction meant it was going to involve something horrible for someone he loves (SAM). But this? The Dean we know would have reacted the way he did when Rowena told him he had to "be the bomb" in order to destroy Amara. Yeah, this sucks, but I always knew it was gonna end ugly, so, whaddya gonna do?

(Sidebar: This brings up an interesting question. I know an angel's vessel is immortal, but would Dean still be immortal even though Michael was trapped inside his head? Would the fact that Michael wasn't in the driver's seat stop him from keeping his vessel alive? Or would the angel's grace do that all on its own?)

But oh, guys. This scene. THIS SCENE. These two. Dean saying I love you for trying. Dean at the beginning, chin up, so defiant, so defensive because this is exactly what he was afraid of - telling Sam, and having to stick to his plan. (He's probably remembering the last time Sam talked him out of this very thing, kneeling on the floor in front of him, agreeing to support the plan for Dean to lock himself up with the Mark of Cain forever, looking up at him with the puppy dog eyes and nodding to accept that Dean has to cut his head off in order to prevent him from undoing that act; or maybe he's not actually remembering that but now I am, goddammit guys, I need a minute.) And Sam realizing that last little hug was Dean's last planned goodbye, and being so angry and so hurt, and the way he looks so young there at the end, when he stops and finally says "all right." I know we've seen this before but IT STILL GETS ME. EVERY DAMN TIME.

(Sidebar: Did Dean leave Sam a note? Is it in the bunker somewhere? Because Sam's last conversation with his father was the old man saying I don't know why we always fight, now go away and his last conversation with his brother would have been I want to go visit Mom without you. Discuss. Fanfic it. Come wail with me about it.)

(Also... Dean's farewell tour didn't include Cas? Jack? Jody?)

Well. Happy 40th birthday, Dean Winchester.

Worst. Birthday. Ever.

So, this episode? Too much Nick. Not enough Sam. Things that did not live up to expectations. But also, things that were wonderfully unexpected. I've seen worse, my friends. What did you think? And please help me stay unspoiled, thanks!