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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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What's a Knife Between Onscreen Family // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Filming an emotionally wrought scene on the set of your current role as a regular goes very wrong very fast. Expecting the scene to be the most taxing of the day you find yourself in the ER getting a transfusion. It’s all fun and games until someone’s holding a sharp knife incorrectly, guess it’s just something in common with co-star Jared Padalecki.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, fear, injuries, hospital, needles, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.5k (including lyrics)

A/N: I watched a part of a panel from a Supernatural con and found it hilarious that Jensen accidently stabbed Jared. So I had to write that for a Charlie Gillespie fic. Link to the video talking about the stabbing is right below this message.

Jensen Ackles Accidentally Stabbed Jared Padalecki during filming From 1:00-6:00

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Masterlist

It had to be one of the most emotionally taxing scenes in your entire career as an actress on a physically demanding show. The scene had been incredibly mentally draining the daughter of a Winchester. It had been once season recurring, one series regular and now filming the third season. As the teenage Winchester, it threw a wrench in all the plans and the reckless character gave no shits.

“Okay, this is our last scene for the day!” Robert Singer, the director of his episode, called out from off stage. Standing at the top of the stairs in the Bunker, you jumped in close with a scrunched nose at the squishy sound.

Over the railing, both Jared and Jensen nodded their support from the ground level with concerned expressions. Ever since you joined the cast in season 13, they had become fathers to you. The sight of you drenched in stage blood was enough to churn their stomachs.

“I gave you the barebones of the scene so work with it. Briar’s traumatized after fighting for her life and has been gone for a while.” Robert explained, “Cas couldn’t find her. I want this to be a tribute like Dean in season 10 episode 14: The Executioner’s Song.”

Taking a deep breath in your emotions channelled into a hurricane in your chest, clenching your fingers on the knife.

“Action!”

Pacing the floor plan of the Bunker is two brothers bonded by sorrow, pain, sacrifice and love. Each throwing out locations on where Briar could be, Jack and Cas had been little help. Sam’s heart clenched tight bypassing images straight to torture. The kind of torture he had endured over the years.

Dean’s mouth opened to suggest another place when the Bunker door creaked open. The red converse appeared before the soggy jeans as the teen slowly made her way down the steps. Briar Winchester shook like a leaf staring off in the distance as the blood congealed on her face and hands.

“Briar.” Dean slowly spoke, moving towards the girl. His green eyes lit up in fury as the seventeen-year-old flinched back. Dean’s hand gently took the stained knife from the young girl.

“I-I didn’t mean to do it.” The meek voice appeared so unlike the usual confidence Briar talked with. In exhaustion, Briar’s knees collapsed, sending the teen right into Dean’s arms.

The stoic man gripped the youngest Winchester as his waist bearing her weight against his while Sam circled to be behind Dean. The choked sob echoed by another escaped the family huddle; one from Briar and the other from Dean.

“Dad.” Briar choked clenching her arms around the green-eyed adult’s shoulders, craving the safety of her father.

Ever since Dean could remember he had had a strict rule of always practising safe sex, he didn’t want a kid. Not in a world that had it out for Winchesters and not one where he might hold his child’s dead body in his arms. That all changed when Cas delivered Dean to a county jail where Briar was held just for a minor assault charge on a wealthy bully.

Dean never let himself want a future with the picket fence and the dog in the backyard but when Briar changed that. Dean would do anything for his family no matter the cost. Example: Selling his soul for Sam.

“Sh.” Dean spoke kissing the crown of her hair he savoured having his child safe in his arms, “I’ll help you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. We’ll heat some soup and toast.”

On autopilot, Dean helped Briar down the hall to the bathroom where she would freshen up and later burn the unsalvageable clothing. As Dean returned to Sam’s side, Castiel came with a sombre expression and an explanation.

“Dean. Sam.” Cas greeted them, flicking his blue gaze between the two brothers. The faint sound of the shower only picked up by the trained heightened sense of hearing from years of watching over their backs.

“Cas what the hell happened?” Dean demanded, “Why the hell is my little girl bruised and coated in blood?”

END FILMING SCENE

“Cut!” Robert called out to the large room with a big smile on his face, “I’ll watch it back. See if we need more takes.”

Jared and Jensen wiped the tears that fell from their cheeks just thinking on how wrought that scene felt. As fathers seeing a young adult in such a state severely agonized them. The duo jogged to see your back against the cold wall—a pinched expression marring your young face.

“How are you feeling after that?” Jensen asked, coming closer to squeeze your shoulders unfazed by the sticky fake blood. It was already all over his clothes from hugging you in character.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to have sharp objects.” You spoke glancing down at your knee that had been punctured by the knife. The dark jeans soaked in stage blood now concealed the real blood.

“Jensen, did you really stab another person.” Jared deadpanned his best friend referencing back a few years. Jared shoved one hand through his hair, receiving a nasty glare from the hairstylist on call.

The glare on Jensen’s face blistered the taller actor, “I didn’t stab you. You walked into the knife.”

The two bickered as they guided you back to the main stage where Robert had reached a final verdict. He had watched the replay twice along with his crew finding the raw emotion to be perfect. The little detail the three had added was well played. Dean unexpectedly consoling his daughter in tears; no threats to kill or push her to tell him what happened. The first time Briar referring to Dean as her father. Lastly, Sam’s unsure actions in consoling a young girl sucked into life like he was in his youth.

“We got a one-take winner!” Robert called out sending the entire crowd into loud applause and cheers. Jared taking most of your weight as you hobbled to the costume trailer.

The lovely costume designers helped remove the sticky shirt, jewellery and the red converse that had once been white. Only the jeans remained on your body to not mess with the wound. As much as you’d love to shower the blood off, it was near impossible, moving your knee stung and it was best to avoid aggravating it.

“Someone needs to ban Jensen from knives. Just wait till his wife finds out about this, she adores Y/N.” Martha chuckled from her sketches she designed on her breaks for a future in fashion design. Often in your free time, you would be her guinea pig with her designs using refurbished material.

Normally the banter would continue but not when your leg was bleeding, and Jared was taking you to the ER. To make time faster, Jared had scooped you into his arms to the black car their driver waited in.

“Towels are in place. Sorry, you got hurt, Kid.” Clif spoke, opening the door to the backseat where Jensen sat patiently. Unlike usual, he had seated himself in the front so you could stretch in the back.

A weak chuckle met air in the packed car from the blood loss that wasn’t overly bad but enough that Jared took the towel. His pressure on the wound caused a yelp that had Jensen flinching in guilt.

“The knife must have been sharp to cut a mouse in half,” Clif muttered turning towards the hospital close to set. Coincidently the drive took you passed the set your boyfriend currently filmed at.

“Might as well call me butter.” You retorted wincing at the throbbing pain, “You aren’t allowed any more sharp objects, Mr. Ackles.”

“Danneel already threatened to hide all the knives in the house.” The on-screen father laughed as the tension decreased in the small car. Despite the dizziness, it didn’t hide the guilt in Jensen’s green eyes.

Time flew by as you found yourself in a bed for observation and pictures for the knee. It came as a shock when the doctor requested one blood transfusion for the blood loss. The hope of being in and out had evaporated like water beads on a blistering summer day.

Julie and the Phantoms Set

Charlie adored his life as an actor where he was free to visit places, he might not have had the opportunity to do. He made friends with everyone he spoke to and even met the love of his life as an actor as well.

That being said today had been the longest one with a full schedule and barely time for lunch or snacks. Even a nap was unachievable, and he desperately wanted one for being awake for hours by now.

“Charlie! Did you know you’ve got missed calls?” Jeremy inquired, staring at the phone that went black once more. Charlie’s eyebrows came together at the mention. His family had the rough outline of times he would be unavailable to talk.

Stepping back from the craft table’s supper options, he lifted the phone from the table, bringing it to life. His lock screen showing multiple missed calls and voicemails from you, his family and two unknown numbers.

His jaw dropped further when Meghan called for the first time out of the group, “Megs?”

“Finally! Where have you been?” Meghan demanded pacing in the studio she had been using when she got the call. The pretty and successful young woman had gotten terrified at learning about Y/N.

“Filming? It’s the longest day of filming the show. It’s on the family schedule.” Charlie spoke, settling into one of the empty tables. His eyes watching the people entering and exiting the tent set up for food.

“Jesus. Mom called me when you didn’t pick up. Y/N’s in the hospital.” Meghan revealed sending the Canadian actor into a stiff posture. His hazel eyes blow wide and panic flooding his entire system.

“What?!” Charlie didn’t mean to shout nor turn paler than a piece of white paper, but it happened. The volume contracting looks from everyone in the vicinity. Owen even dropped the donut back in the box by the volume.

“She got stabbed with a knife. I sent the address earlier, and I haven’t gotten a lot of info.” Meghan told her older brother, “I know she’s getting a blood transfusion, but nothing else was released.”

Charlie couldn’t tell you what happened between Meghan telling him and reaching the hospital frantically. Nor could he figure out how Owen was in the back of the Uber with him guiding him through exercises; all thanks to Owen’s therapist for his anxiety.

His sneakers squeaked on the polished white floor in his mission to the receptionist transferring information from a chart to digital. Charlie’s painting brought him attention from the kind nurse acknowledging his presence.

“Just let me finish this one sentence.” The nurse hummed saving the information before turning their full attention to the frazzled male, “How can I help you?”

“What room is Y/N Y/L/N in? She was stabbed and needed a transfusion.” Charlie demanded deflating as Owen placed a hand on his shoulder. The Canadian’s eyes bright with panic and a deep fear

The nurse’s eyes softened, “I can’t give out information on patients unless your immediate family members.”

“I’m here-“

“Husband! He’s her husband, they eloped so she hasn’t changed her last name or updated her information.” Owen blurted out, rubbing the pad of his index finger on the black jeans he had worn for his role. The two hadn’t even bothered changing into their street clothing.

The nurse nodded their head-turning back to the computer to enter the name for the patient for the information. It took seconds before the nurse wrote on the miscellaneous sticky note of the ward and room number.

“My name is Riley. If you need any help, you can come back here, and I’ll do my best to give you answers.” Nurse Riley informed the duo with a kind smile nodding in the direction of your hospital room.

Owen’s long legs ate up the distance Charlie made in his sprint to the stairwell, “Shouldn’t we take the elevator?”

“My girlfriend is in a hospital bed. I can’t wait for an elevator.” Charlie rebuked the suggestion on the second flight. Owen’s sigh was the last sound made as the duo slammed into the door to the floor level.

Charlie and Owen appeared in the doorway of your hospital room panting from the exertion meeting the gaze of two actors. Charlie’s heart stuttered at the sight of the high volume of blood in your clothing and your hair.

The sharp gasp brought your attention to the shaking Canadian actor solely focused on scanning for wounds. His eyes barely staying on the two adult males you had been starring with for a few years. Schedule conflicts often led to no introduction to each other’s co-stars.

“What the hell?” Charlie choked stumbling to the chair beside your hospital bed next to the pole holding a blood bag, “Did you get mugged? Are you okay?”

“Char, take a breath, man.” Owen’s blue eyes shadowed with the worry as Charlie’s breathing shuddered. Owen could barely look at you covered in blood.

“Whoa! Charlie. I’m fine. This is stage blood. We had an intense scene, and there was a minor accident.” Your voice soothed the man gently taking Charlie’s hand to comfort him, “I lost a bit of blood. The doctor decided to give me a blood transfusion to bring my levels back up a bit before stitching it up.”

“How do you get stabbed accidently?” Owen questioned glancing at the two men standing silently in the corner. Due to contracts on the Supernatural set details of scenes and storylines was off-limits.

“Well, during filming, I took a knife from her, and she walked into the blade?” Jensen trailed off, shoving his elbow into Jared’s side at the scoff. It happened every time it was brought up.

“I-“Charlie blinked, shaking his head as he took a deep sigh in pushing that to the back burner to focus solely on you. His hand rubbed his face while he settled on squeezing your one hand in both of his.

The touch of your skin grounding him back to earth with the shattering visions of walking into the world without you. It would be both ways, the second his calloused warm skin brushed your hands; it was like the pain faded. Only a sense of content settled in your weary bones.

“Okay Miss Y/L/N.” Dr. Clancy walked into the room only halting to grab a pair of medical gloves, “I see your entourage grew. I’m Doctor Jim Clancy, and you must be Miss Y/L/N’s husband.”

Three pairs of eyes widened at the doctor’s words aimed towards the brunette actor turning a blushing mess. The words mouthed by Charlie to go with it gave barely any insight, but you did it. The moment you had a free minute with Charlie, you would interrogate him in the new title you had.

“Yeah, my husband.” You spoke flicking an expression to Jensen and Jared that caught on from the years together. They had taken you under their wing on your first day on set, and then you became family with their immediate family.

“I can confirm that my initial observation is that the wound doesn’t have anything that shouldn’t be in there. We stopped the bleeding, the x-ray came clean, we’ll set you up with IV fluid, and tetanus shot to be safe.”

“Nurse Gellar here will cut the rest of the jeans off, get you in a gown for a few hours of observation. Just a precaution for blood transfusions. We’ll have some scrubs you can wear when you can leave.” Dr. Clancy motioned to the tall redhead with a quiet demeanour.

Charlie’s lips lingered on your temple at the fear that flared in your expressive eyes, he would give anything to take your place. He softly sang your couple song as a whimper fell from your lips as the jean tugged the dried blood from the wound. The painful pressure felt as you guessed it had started to bleed again, the feel of liquid rolling down your skin, confirming it.

“I’ll sing anything.” Charlie whispered going through his mental catalogue of songs on your shared playlist, “Oh!”

I’m booking myself a one-way flight

I gotta see the color in your eyes

And telling myself I’m gonna be alright

Without you baby is a waste of time

The tears falling no longer came from the pain but the sheer amount of love you had for the man there. Eyes glittering with pure adoration as his voice came off absolutely heart-melting. So, lost in each other neither of you noticed Owen had been filming from the moment Charlie had said ‘oh’.

Yeah, our first date, girl, the seasons changed

It got washed away in a summer rain

You can’t undo a fall like this

’Cause love don’t know what distance is

Yeah, I know it’s crazy

Charlie’s hand slowly slid up your arms to cup your tear-streaked tacky cheeks in his warm grip. The hospital faded as it became just you and Charlie. Completely oblivious at the audience in the room.

“He loves her,” Jensen whispered to Jared out of the camera frame that the blonde-haired kid’s phone. It was such a pure moment it felt disrespectful to see this exchange but also honoured to see it firsthand.

“I’ve only seen the look in your eyes for Danneel,” Jared replied, cupping his hands over his face listening to the near inaudible wet chuckle you gave.

“As I have between you and Gen. They have the real kind of love.”

But I don’t want “good”, and I don’t want “good enough.”

I want “can’t sleep, can’t breathe without your love”

Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn’t make sense to anybody else

“Charlie.” You sobbed at the best part of your life serenading you in such a romantic moment at the odd setting—his hazel gaze greener in what would come to be a very dear memory to reminisce about.

The calloused thumb caressing your cheek wiping a teardrop away he continued to see as the doctor finished suturing the wound.

Nothing mattered other than the couple currently in a bubble.

Who cares if you’re all I think about,

I’ve searched the world and I know now,

It ain’t right if you ain’t lost your mind.

Yeah, I don’t want easy, I want crazy

Are you with me baby? Let’s be crazy

Charlie’s voice faded with the rest of the song bringing you back to reality with the nurse cleaning up around the wound. That’s how the rest of the day went on waiting for the blood transfusion and IV fluids to finish. You stuffed the tetanus shot while Charlie sang between different genres.

“Thank you.” You softly spoke with Charlie being the only one left in the room with you.

Owen had headed back to their set to finish a scene while giving the updates on you while Jared and Jensen grabbed food. J2 had been very clear they would get Martha to grab some clothing for when they came back. Jensen was determined to deliver you to your home as the first action to make it up to you.

“For what?” Charlie questioned as your index and thumb picked at the cuticles of the opposite hand. Your eyes were hidden from your boyfriend’s gaze.

“For dropping everything to be here.” The words were quiet in the room only filled with breathing and the heart machine you had to be hooked up to.

“My girl-“

“Don’t you mean wife?” You teased brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead taking in the man you had the honor of loving. Of waking up next to in the apartment, you’d been renting ever since you landed the role on Supernatural; overtime Charlie’s things had just accumulated there.

“It was the only way they’d let me in.” Charlie spoke sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, “It’s a little early to call you, but I’m excited to make you my last girlfriend and then my only wife.”

The chuckle fell from your lips, “So, you want to marry me?”

“In front of all our family and friends. Tucked away from the media to celebrate the love we have for each other.” Charlie spoke, “There’s no one else I’d like by my side for the rest of my life.”

A new flood of tears welled at the sincerity in his voice and the warmth laden in his eyes of kaleidoscope colours. Sometimes, depending on his emotion or his clothing, his eyes would be greener, or when he was happy, they had a blue tinge in the green in sadness or your favourite; brown with the swirls of green.

“How did I get so lucky to have the absolute honour to fall in love with you?” Your words created a swell of emotion in the Canadian’s heart.

“The same way whatever deities there are took pity on a boy from Dieppe by bringing him an angel.” Charlie words preceded the kiss on your lips with a grin as you chased his lips after. With one last peck, he leaned back with a fond expression.

“Seriously how do you get stabbed accidently?” Charlie chortled with that gorgeous smile lighting up the room more than the white lights.

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allthingsfangirl101 · 4 years

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Saved By The Dancing Boys–Troy Bolton

My dad's junkyard is usually pretty quiet, which is why he doesn't mind me in the back fixing up my car. I was currently searching through the old cars, trying to find pieces that fit mine, when I thought I heard something.

I rounded the corner, quickly covering my mouth when I saw Troy Bolton and Chad Danforth dancing around. I watched for a little while longer, holding in my laughter.

"Ms. Darbus really did a number on those two," I mumbled to myself as I quickly left.

"You okay, sweetheart?" My dad asked, rounding the corner.

"I'm fine," I chuckled. "But I should warn you, Dancing With The Basketball Team is rehearsing around the corner."

"Those basketball players are at it again?" My dad laughed.

"Whoa, wait," I laughed. "Again?"

"You don't remember?"

"Obviously not," I chuckled.

"Y/N, sweetheart, you used to run around here with them, dancing over old car parts, building forts."

"I don't remember that," I said slowly.

"All the time, sweetheart," he chuckled as he kissed my forehead. "The three of you used to play together for hours. I don't know why you ever stopped hanging out with those two."

"I don't either."

* * * * *

The truth is, I barely remembered why I stopped hanging out with Troy and Chad. I spent the rest of the day, thinking about it.

The three of us used to be close in elementary school, but that stopped when they joined the basketball team in sixth grade. I went to every game, but things changed. They got very serious with practices and games so we started hanging out less.

By seventh grade, they had joined their team and I started working at my dad's yard more. Since then, I've rarely talked to them.

I was brought back to what I was doing when I heard the crank snap. I let out a yell of pain as the car collapsed on top of me.

"Daddy!" I yelled out. "Help me!"

"Dad!" I tried to call out again. The longer I was stuck under the car, the harder it was for me to breathe. When my dad still didn't answer, I decided to call out to the other mechanics.

"Anthony! Luke! Somebody. . ."

I struggled to move as it got harder to breathe. I closed my eyes as I focused on catching my breath.

"Daddy," I said under my breath. "Please. Somebody help me."

"Do you hear that?" I thought I heard someone ask.

"It's coming from over there," another voice added.

"Over here!" The first voice yelled.

"Holy. . ."

"Y/N?"

I finally opened my eyes to see none other than Troy and Chad leaning over me.

"What happened?" Chad asked.

"I was working on my car when the stand broke," I said slowly between breaths.

"Can you breathe?" Troy asked.

"Barely," I gasped out, shaking my head.

"We need to get this off of her," Troy said. The two boys quickly jumped up and tried to get a good hold on the car. After several failed attempts to budge the car, tears started streaming down my cheeks.

"We should go get her dad," Chad said, out of breath.

"Someone should call an ambulance too," Troy added.

Before the boys could run away, I grabbed Troy's arm. "Wait," I stuttered. "Please. . . Don't leave. . . I can't. . ."

Troy looked up at Chad and said, "I'll stay with her. You go get her dad."

As Chad ran to get help, Troy sat next to me, grabbed my hand that was holding his arm, and took it in both of his. He smiled down at me, softly rubbing my hand.

"It's going to be okay," he reassured. "Chad is going to get your dad and we are going to get this car off of you. Just keep breathing."

I closed my eyes, the tears still coming as I took shaky breaths. I gasped when I felt him start to run his fingers through my hair. I slowly opened my eyes to see Troy smiling down at me.

"Just breathe," he whispered. He opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by my dad yelling.

"Y/N? Where is she?"

"Over here!" Troy called out for me. I craned my neck to see my dad, Chad, and Anthony running over.

"Y/N!" My dad gasped. Troy moved as my father knelt next to me. "Okay," he instructed, "Luke is in the office, calling 911. The rest of us are going to get this car off of you. Okay? Just hang in there, sweetheart."

I slowed my breathing as they talked. I looked over as Luke came running towards the group.

"They're on their way," Luke said, his voice catching in his throat when he saw me stuck.

"Bring the lift," my dad instructed. Luke nodded before running back the way he came.

"Daddy," I said under my breath.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he whispered as he knelt back down and started running his fingers through my hair. "As soon as Luke brings the lift, we are getting this off of you. Just hold on a little longer for me."

I tried to nod but gasped in pain. I took a shaky breath as my dad leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Hang on, baby," he whispered.

"Luke!" Anthony yelled. "Where the hell are you?!"

"I'm right here."

We all looked over to see Luke finally round the corner, pulling the mobile lift with him.

"Alright, kiddo. We're close." My dad kissed my forehead again before standing up and walking over to help set up the lift.

"Troy, Chad, what I need you two to do is once we get this under the car and the car lifted, you pull Y/N out. Gently pull her out," he instructed.

The two basketball players nodded as they walked over to me. They sent each other a look before kneeling down.

"Just hang on," Troy whispered.

I let out a pained sigh of relief as I heard them set up the lift. They started putting it under the car, hooking it up.

"Alright, baby," my dad said, coming back into my view. "The car's all hooked up. You ready?"

I nodded as I took a shaky breath. Before standing up, my father turned towards Troy and Chad.

"As soon as we get this off of her," he instructed, "carefully and slowly pull her out. If you move her too fast, it could worsen whatever injuries she's already suffered. We'll have the car safely lifted so take your time getting her out."

"Yes, sir," they said in unison.

My dad looked down at me and smiled as he moved some hair out of my face. "Let's get this off of you," he whispered.

Troy reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it reassuringly as my dad and the other men got ready. I heard them count it out, and the minute they got to three, I felt an enormous pressure lift up.

I let out a pained cry as it was lifted off of me. A sob got stuck in my throat as I heard my dad call for them to lift it a little more.

"Boys! Get her out, now! Carefully," he instructed. In sync, Troy and Chad leaned down and gently grabbed me. They slowly pulled me out from under the car.

The second I was out, I heard Anthony yell, "She's clear!"

Troy and Chad gently put me down as my father ran over. He knelt by me and cupped my cheek in his hand. "How you feeling, kid?"

"Well. . . I. . . I can breathe a little better," I got out between breaths. He laughed as he shook his head.

Suddenly, we could faintly hear sirens. My dad stayed by my side as Luke and Anthony ran towards the front of the shop, most likely to show the EMCs where we were.

Soon, the EMCs found us and gently got me onto a gurney. As they wheeled it towards the ambulance, I caught of glimpse of Troy and Chad watching with curious expressions on their faces.

* * * * *

After we got to the hospital, the doctor told me that I was extremely lucky. I only had a few broken ribs, and he said that if I was shifted down a few inches, it would've damaged a lot more than my ribs.

I was in the hospital for two days before finally able to go home. Even though the doctor had cleared me, my dad kept me home from school the rest of the week. When I went back to school the next Monday, nobody bothered to ask what happened.

I sighed as I painfully sat at the empty lunch table. I ran my fingers through my hair as I struggled to get my breathing back to normal. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the pain. I gasped when I opened my eyes right as Troy and Chad sat at the table.

"Hey, Y/N," Chad smiled as he took a bite of his apple.

"What are you. . ." I stuttered.

"Is it okay if we sit with you?" Troy asked even though they were both already sitting.

"I guess," I said under my breath. I watched them as they started eating. I hesitated before slowly grabbing my sandwich out of my bag. I took a bite but sucked in a painful breath as I tried to swallow.

"You okay?" Troy asked.

"I'm fine," I said breathlessly. When the pain passed, I looked up to see both basketball players watching me closely.

"What?" I asked.

"How are you feeling?" Troy asked.

"And don't give us the BS answer that you're fine," Chad laughed. "We were there."

I sighed as I put my sandwich down, not used to this. My eyes drifted behind them, finding Troy's and Chad's usual table. Their teammates and friends were watching us, whispering.

"Why are you guys sitting over here?" I asked, ignoring their question.

"We wanted to make sure you were okay," Chad said, sending a confused look to Troy.

"Look, I appreciate all your help the other day. If it weren't for you guys. . ." I cleared my throat before continuing, "Who knows when my dad would've found me, but just because you witnessed the accident, doesn't mean you have to pretend to be my friends."

I stood up, leaving my lunch, and walked away. I wasn't sure why I was leaving or where I was going, but I couldn't stay in that lunchroom. I walked around for a little while before heading up to the greenhouse on top of the school.

I sat down, trying to catch my breath. I wrapped my arms around my waist, forcing myself to take slow breaths.

"See?"

I jumped at the sudden voice. I looked over to see Troy coming up the stairs.

"You're still in pain."

"I'm fine," I tried to say as I sat up, unwrapping my arms from around myself.

I gasped in pain, causing me to start coughing. Troy sighed as he ran over, sat next to me, and gently rubbed my back as I caught my breath.

When I finally stopped coughing, Troy hesitated before pulling his hand back into his lap.

"You okay?" Troy asked, breaking the silence. "And are you going to tell me the truth this time?"

"Fine," I sighed, still catching my breath. "I'm not fine. I don't sleep because it hurts too much, I can barely eat, and even breathing hurts. I have to pretend like I'm okay because my dad feels guilty that it took him so long to find me. He keeps saying that I shouldn't work on cars anymore. Especially not alone. I can't focus in class because every breath is painful. Every breath is like that car falling on top of me all over again. There. Now you know. Happy?"

"No," Troy said instantly. "I'm not happy, Y/N. I hate seeing you in pain."

I looked up at him, more confused than ever. Troy Bolton has probably said less than ten words to me at a time since he started playing basketball, less since he became East High's star point guard.

Troy chuckled, breaking the awkward silence. "Do you remember, back in elementary school, we used to go to your dad's shop every day after school? We thought we were smart enough to build a car."

"I remember," I said under my breath.

"You were the only one of the three of us who could put the parts together correctly," Troy laughed.

"What are you doing?" I sighed, cutting him off.

"What do you mean?" He stuttered.

"We have barely talked since sixth grade and now, because of what happened the other day, you and Chad are acting like we haven't skipped a beat. I'm sure your friends are wondering where you are."

I started to get up to leave but Troy jumped up and grabbed my hand, stopping me.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, not looking up from where his hand was holding my arm.

I bit my lip as he slid his hand down my arm, intertwining our fingers. Troy took a shaky breath before finally looking back up at me.

"I'm sorry Chad and I kinda stopped being friends with you when we joined the basketball team. I swear we didn't mean to push you aside the way we did. We just. . . We got swept up and. . ."

"You guys quickly became the stars of the team," I said, gently pulling my hand away from his and crossing my arms over my chest, slightly turning away from him. "I'll admit that I was a little hurt when you guys canceled plans and stood me up a few times, but I got over it."

"You shouldn't have had to get over it," Troy jumped in.

"Troy," I sighed, finally looking back at him. "It's fine. Just forget it."

"I can't."

"You should," I corrected. "Look, we've changed a lot over the years. Basketball became your life and fixing cars with my dad became mine. I saw your games. I knew you had talent that could get you scholarships and offers, so I let it go. I let you and Chad focus on basketball while I focused on school and helped my dad with his shop."

"I'm really sorry, Y/N. We didn't mean to make you feel like that."

"Troy," I said slowly. "I never have been, nor will I ever be, angry that you and Chad got focused on basketball. We all grew up and it's fine."

We stared at each other for another minute, neither one of us saying anything. We finally looked away from each other when the bell rang.

"I should get to class," I said, breaking the silence. I took a step towards the stairs, but Troy moved so he was blocking me.

"I'm really sorry," he said under his breath.

"Troy," I sighed, looking away from him.

"Y/N," he said, stopping me from leaving again. "Have lunch with us tomorrow. Please?"

"You don't have to do this," I said, clearing my throat awkwardly.

"I know," he chuckled, trying to lighten the sudden tension between us. "I want to."

I bit my bottom lip, debating. After seeing the hopeful look in his eyes, I knew I had to give in.

"I guess that could be fun," I said slowly. I couldn't help but smile along with him.

"Great!" He laughed excitedly. "And maybe we can get something to eat later. I can pick you up after practice?"

"Okay," I shrugged.

I gasped when he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek before turning around and jogging down the stairs, heading to class. I grabbed my bag, slowly following him. I smiled when I got to the bottom of the stairs to see Troy waiting, holding the door for me.

I tilted my head, confused when Troy reached over and grabbed my backpack from me.

"I can carry that," I said slowly as he put my backpack over his shoulder.

"I know," he smirked. "But so can I."

I laughed, slightly shaking my head. "Looks like chivalry isn't dead," I joked. "The basketball player carries the injured girl's backpack. How cliché."

Troy just shrugged as he laughed, "I try."

#troy bolton #troy bolton imagines #hsm #zac efron #zac efron imagines #zac efron x reader

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caranfindel · 4 years

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Recap/review 15.20: “Carry On”

I’ll warn you right now - I did not hate it.

THEN: Chuck loses. Jack is God. The Winchesters are finally free.

NOW: Friends, get ready for a whole lot of fan service in the next few minutes. It's like TPTB have been reading everything we say and giving us what we want.

As a song about "ordinary life" plays, Dean's retro alarm clock goes off at 8:00. He shuts it off and sits up so we can see he's wearing a henley shirt (fan service points: 1). As he stretches, he's greeted by Miracle the dog (fan service points: 2)! Who is apparently his dog and definitely not Sam's!

But it's okay because LOOK AT THEM.

Meanwhile, Sam is running (fan service points: 3) and enjoying the beautiful day. When he gets home, he cooks (fan service points: 4) the same dry scrambled eggs that Stevie made for Charlie. Dean wanders in, wearing the dead guy robe, just as two slices of toast pop out of the toaster. I am not giving the robe any points because I don't think it's anything we all publicly long for and get excited about when it comes up, but I am willing to consider any opposing arguments. Sam, wearing just a t-shirt (5 points), tells Dean "it's hot" and I say mmm, yes it is. Dean adorably burns his hands on the hot toast and then brushes his teeth. You know what, I think the robe deserves a point after all. We're up to 6.

And we're not even two minutes into the episode.

And then they JUST KEEP COMING because Sam walks in, exposing his tattoo (7) because he's SHIRTLESS (8), scrubbing at his WET HAIR (9) with a towel, and I curse The Husband for deciding to watch with me because it means it would be kind of awkward to rewind and watch this a few more times. There's not even any dialog I can pretend I didn't catch.

I was NOT PREPARED FOR THIS.

He pulls on the grey v-neck t-shirt of sex (10) and proceeds to carefully make his bed. Dean, meanwhile, kind of sloppily throws his bed together and calls it done. Domestic Winchesters for 11 fan service points, please. Part of me feels like Dean's messy room is OOC, considering how proud he was to have his own room in the first place. But then I have to consider the trunk of the Impala, especially when compared to the hyper-organized neatness of her trunk when Sam's all alone in Mystery Spot, and it feels right. (Why am I thinking about Sam being all alone in Mystery Spot? NO REASON, NO REASON AT ALL.)

Sam's hair in his face while he makes his bed? Yes, please (12 points).

Dean washes the breakfast dishes (13), sneaking some leftover (because they were nasty) eggs to Miracle and looking around to make sure Sam doesn't see, because obviously Sam's going to be the one who doesn't want the dog to get table scraps. Sam put on a plaid shirt earlier, but we see him in the laundry room back down to one v-neck t-shirt (thank you Jack). He's reading as his laundry tumbles in the dryer, and he has to kick the dryer once to stop it from making noise, which I guess is why he's in there babysitting it. I keep reading on Tumblr that people want "at least one laundry scene," as if that didn't exist in The Monster at the End of This Book, but here's your laundry scene, friends. You were right to want it; it is marvelous (14).

Just look at that collection of plaid shirts and tell me it doesn't make you happy.

Dean times himself assembling a gun, complete with plenty of hand closeups (15) and then sits in the library with Miracle, scratching his ears (Miracle's, not his own) and apparently looking for a case. Sam comes in and joins them. He hasn't found anything, but Dean gets a serious look on his face and says "I got something."

Spoiler alert: It is my heart.

Title card!

The Impala pulls to a stop and the guys get out, still with serious looks on their faces. Oddly, the episode title flashes on screen really quickly. Or maybe it's just me. "Sure you're ready for this?" says Sam. "Oh, I don't have a choice," answers Dean. "This is my destiny." And that is exactly how I felt about watching this episode, friends. Not ready, but no choice. The camera pans to show that the boys are at the 43rd Annual Akron Pie Fest. In Akron, Iowa? Just north of Sioux City? Five hour drive? Say hi to Jody and the girls while you're there? Probably not. Probably in Akron, Ohio, almost 16 hours away.

(NO ONE CARES. STOP IT.)

Give me a break. This might be the last time I ever get to calculate driving time.

Anyway. Just pies! Nothing serious! Whew, I was concerned for a second. Dean is emotional.

This is just so beautiful.

Are you crying?

What? No. You're crying, I'm not.

No one is crying. There is no reason for ANYONE to cry.

Sam sits on a bench and watches happy pie eating families (sob). Dean returns with a giant box with six slices of pie (16 points). He sits next to Sam, and they have this conversation:

What's wrong?

Nothing. I'm fine.

Nah, come on, I know that face. That's Sad!Sam face.

I'm not Sad!Sam. I just. I'm thinking about Cas, you know? Jack. If they could be here.

Yeah, I know, I think about them too. You know what, that pain's not gonna go away, right? But if we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is going to be for nothing.

Dean's right, Sam. Do not be sad. We will have no Sad!Sam tonight. Live your life, or else those sacrifices are wasted. (ahem.) Sam responds by pushing a slice of pumpkin pie into Dean's face. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time," he laughs. "You're right, I do feel better!" Dean scraping the pie off his face and eating it is pretty adorable.

I'd pay good money to lick that off his face. And not just because I love pumpkin pie.

Not quite 6 minutes in and we're up to at least 16 guaranteed bits of pure fan service. Just sweet, domestic Winchester brothers living their lives. How long has this been going on? I've decided it's been at least a year since the last episode. Maybe longer. A good long time. Lots of time for them to enjoy their newfound freedom. But right now things are getting dark. Because it's nighttime, and because I think somebody's about to die.

A mom sends two young brothers upstairs for bathtime. They pause when the doorbell rings. No one seems to be there, but then the dad is stabbed by people wearing creepy masks. The boys run into their room and hide. From their room, we hear the mom scream, and then a thump. One of the masked guys comes into the room and, after a fake-out when we think they might be safe, drags the boys out from under the bed.

So, domestic life in the bunker and then a hunt? Wow. We're getting it all. What a great episode, full of the things we love.

Is this Becky Rosen's living room?

Daytime. Agents Kripke and Singer (ugh, really? Kripke is good, but how about honoring someone other than the current regime?) show up at the scene. They learn that the dad's blood was drained, the mom is alive but her tongue was ripped out (wow), and the kids were taken. The mom drew a picture of the masks they wore, which the brothers recognize.

In a lovely, picturesque spot, the guys flip through John's journal. And I didn't realize we hadn't seen the journal in a while, but Tumblr informs me many of us were exicted to see it again, so boom. 17 points.

You know what this is? Mimes. Evil mimes.

Yeah. Or vampires.

VampMIMES. Son of a bitch!

Dean comes up with a silly portmanteau name for a monster? That will be 18 points. Sam determines the vamps will be heading for Canton if they follow their pattern, and the victims are families who live on the outskirts of town with children between the ages of five and ten. Well, that couldn't be too difficult to narrow down in a city with a population of over 70,000.

I'll handwave it. The lip biting. You’re welcome.

Night. Canton, I presume. Two masked vamps get out of a van. One of them gets decapitated by Dean. The other is shot in the leg, and then the head, by Sam. Well, he's a vampire, so of course it didn't kill him, but the bullet was soaked in dead man's blood. {Sidebar: "Soaked?" Dipped, maybe, but do you soak metal? Discuss.} They ask where the missing kids are, and the vamp is all, you're gonna let me go if I tell you? "No," Dean explains, adorably disappointed that the vamp isn't a mime after all. "This isn't a you walk out of here kind of situation. But see, if you tell us quick, you get this." He displays his bloody machete. "But if you take your time, you get, you get that." And "that" is a switchblade which Sam casually pops open right on cue.

Yeah, I'll take that. I'll take that itty bitty one.

It's a bad choice.

You see, this, this is quick. It's clean, you know? No muss, no fuss. You blink and you're dead.

But a blade this small, I'm gonna have to keep sawing and sawing to get your head off. And you'll feel it. Every muscle, tendon. Every inch. Could take hours.

Oh, and if those kids are dead? He's gonna use a spoon.

GUYS. I said it before and I’ll say it again. I absolutely love when they remind us that Sam Winchester, that sweet boy with the huge heart and the endless supply of empathy and the puppy dog eyes, I love it when they remind us that he is a fucking psycho when he needs to be. I'm not going to give it a point, because I don't think it's anything we've asked for, but again I'm willing to hear all arguments. Especially if they come with detailed examples of Sam going psycho. Just for evidence, you know.

Just casually talkin' bout torturing you to death. No big.

The vampire wisely decides to reveal the location of the nest where the kids are being held. Next we see the Impala pulling up in front of some kind of barn. The guys open the trunk to get their gear out, and Dean pulls out a throwing star. "Come on. One time." Sam says no. There will be plenty of other times for Dean to use his throwing stars, I'm sure.

The guys enter the barn and find it apparently empty, although we see masked vamps peeking at them from outside. They find the kids locked in a closet, but four vampires appear before they can escape. They shoo the boys outside and shoot the vampires with their dead man's blood bullets from a safe distance. No, they don't. Why? I got no goddamn idea.

{Sidebar: At some point during this fight, I realized they hadn't played "Carry On Wayward Son" at the beginning. And that we got a regular montage, not a season finale extended montage.}

Sam gets knocked unconscious, and Dean loses his machete and then gets pinned by a couple of vamps. But they don't kill him; they just hold him down while an unmasked vampire strolls in. Dean recognizes her from season 1, and pretends not to notice Sam's now-conscious hand surreptitiously creeping toward his machete. Suddenly the vampire loses her head, because Sam is behind her, and the fight starts up again. Dean gets thrown into a wall right next to a big metal spike, which we focus on oddly. And then he gets thrown onto the spike. Oops. Sam kills the last of the vamps and doesn't notice Dean's predicament. He's all, cool, fight's over, let's go get those kids out of here. "Sam," Dean says, "I don't think I'm going anywhere."

Dean tells Sam there's something stuck in his back and it "feels like it's right through me." He keeps touching his chest as if he expects to feel it poking through. Sam reaches around to touch his back and his hand comes back bloody, and if that gives you All Hell Breaks Loose feels, there's a good reason. Sam tries to pull Dean off the spike, but Dean stops him. "It feels like this thing's holding me together right now." Sam's starting to panic and so am I. He wants to go get the first aid kid and call for help, but Dean stops him. And y'all, I'm just gonna have to type the whole thing out.

Sam, Sam. Stay with me. Please, stay with me, please.

Okay. Yeah.

Okay. Okay. Uh. Right. All right, listen to me. Um. You get those boys and you get them someplace safe, all right?

Dean? WE are gonna get them somewhere safe.

No. You knew it was always gonna end like this for me. It was supposed to end like this, right? I mean, look at us. Saving people, hunting things, it's what we do.

Stop, Dean, just stop

It's okay. It's okay. it's good. It's good. We had one hell of a ride, man.

I will find away, okay? I will find another way.

No. No. No, no no no no. No bringing me back, okay? You know that always ends bad.

Dean, please.

I'm fading pretty quick, so, there's a few things I need you to hear. Come here. Let me look at you. There he is. I am so proud of you, Sam. You know that? I've always looked up to you. Remember when we were kids, you were so damn smart. You never took any of Dad's crap. I never knew how you did that. And you're stronger than me. You always have been. Hey, did I ever tell you, that night that I came for you when you were in school? You know, when dad hadn't come back from his hunting trip?

Uh, the woman in white.

The woman in white, that's right. I must have stood outside your door for hours, cause I didn't know what you would say. I thought you'd tell me to get lost, or get dead. And I didn't know what I would have done if I didn't have you. Cause I was so scared. I was scared. Cause when it all came down to it, it was always you and me. It's always been you and me.

Then don't leave me. Don't leave me. I can't do this alone.

Yes you can.

Well, I don't want to.

Hey. I'm not leaving you. I'm gonna be with you. Right here. Every day. Every day you're out there, and you're living, and you're fighting, cause you, you always keep fighting. You hear me? I'll be there, every step. I love you so much. My baby brother. Well, I did not think this would be the day. But it is, it is, and that's okay. I need you, I need you to promise me. I need you to tell me that it's okay. I need you to tell me it's okay. Look at me. I need. I need. I need you to tell me it's okay. Tell me it's okay.

Dean. It's okay. You can go now.

Bye, Sam.

NO, IT IS NOT OKAY. THIS IS THE OPPOSITE OF OKAY.

And of course I haven't described Sam's face as he understands what's happening, Dean's occasional spasms of pain, the handholding, the fucking FOREHEAD TOUCH, the tears, the way Dean's hand drops away, the way Sam's hands shake as he clutches his dead brother (hello, AHBL again).

Maybe we just need to watch it.

Gifs borrowed from @jaredandjensen.

And there's also the Always Keep Fighting shoutout, the "I love you," Dean calling Sam his "baby brother," the "I can't do this alone/Yes you can/Well I don't want to" parallel with 1.01. Infinite points, friends. I can't count that high.

(Things not to think about: Sam putting Dean's body in the back seat, and then putting the two young brothers in the front and driving them to safety. Sam driving 15 hours back to Lebanon with his brother's body. Do not think about these things.)

Aftermath. Sam and Miracle, and no one else, are giving Dean a hunter's funeral. And I know Covid means Sam couldn't have any friends there, but also? This is kind of perfect. Sam facing it alone. The song we hear as Sam lights his brother's pyre is "Brothers in Arms" by Dire Straits, in case you're not emotionally wrecked yet.

Yeah, I'm already there, thanks anyway.

Next we see Sam's slightly more modern alarm going off at 8:00. Note that Sam gets up later now, because at the beginning of the episode, he had already gone for a run and was cooking breakfast when Dean woke at 8:00. But now there's no one to cook for so he doesn't need to get back early and I AM NOT OKAY.

ANYWAY.

Sam gets up and faces his lonely day. He cooks eggs. One piece of toast pops up. He sits in the library with Miracle and looks at the names carved into the table. He wanders the halls with his dog at his side. (SAM HAVING A DOG WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE HIM HAPPY. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE US HAPPY. HOW DARE YOU.)

{Sidebar: Has Sam ever had a dog when he wasn't at a low point in his already-low life? Discuss.}

Eventually he finds himself at the door to Dean's room. The room is just as Dean left it, kind of messy, kind of very full of Dean. He sits on Dean's bed and pets the dog and cries and it should come as a surprise to absolutely no one that I am ROLLING AROUND IN ALL OF THIS BEAUTIFUL PAIN.

No one at all.

@annianvi thinks he’s wearing Dean’s hoodie when he cooks his sad lonely breakfast? Could it be?

Sam hears a phone buzzing in Dean's desk. He digs out the one labeled "Dean's other other phone" and answers. The caller asks for "Agent Bon Jovi" and says he's had some bodies turn up without hearts in Austin. "A friend of mine, Donna Hanscum, said you were the one to call." Oooh, are we sending him to Austin? Is Walker, Texas Ranger just going to be another fake name and fake badge? Now that's how you do a spinoff!

{Sidebar: Does Donna know about Dean? Did Sam tell anyone yet? Is the trying to get him out of the bunker and keep him busy? If so, wouldn't she have given the guy Sam's number, not Dean's other other phone? But maybe it's someone she talked to weeks ago. Discuss.}

Sam tells the caller he is on his way, and we see him with a packed bag, heading out of the bunker with Miracle. He turns to look one last time and then turns off all the lights. We haven't seen the bunker this dark since the day they found it. I don't think he's ever coming back. Goodbye, bunker. I know some people hated you, but I was not one of them. {Sidebar: Did he give the bunker key to anyone? Surely he wouldn't want all those resources to go to waste!}

So, I guess the episode title refers to Sam having (choosing?) to carry on after he loses his brother. THIS IS FINE.

Now we're back at Dean's pyre, and this time we drift up with the smoke. We catch up with Dean, outdoors, in a lovely setting with trees and birds. "Well, at least I made it to Heaven," he says. "Yep," someone answers. It's Bobby! Real Bobby, not AU Bobby! Dean's actually standing next to a building - a cabin, maybe - and Bobby is sitting on the porch.

What memory is this?

It ain't, ya idjit.

Yeah it is. Cause the last I heard, you, you were in in Heaven's lockup.

Was. Now I'm not. That kid of yours, before he went wherever, made some changes here. Busted my ass out. And then he, well, set some things right. Tore down all the walls. Heaven ain't just reliving your golden oldies any more. It's what it always should have been. Everyone happy, everyone together. Rufus lives about five miles that way. With Aretha. Thought she'd have better taste. And your mom and dad, they got a place over yonder. It ain't just Heaven, Dean. It's the Heaven you deserve. And we been waiting for you.

So Jack did all that.

Well, Cas helped. It's a big new world out there. You'll see.

So, I guess Cas made it out of the Empty? Dean smiles at that, but doesn't suggest finding him or anything. I approve. Bobby pulls out a couple of beers (the green cooler made it into Heaven!!!) and they share some bad beer. Dean comments that Heaven is "almost perfect," and Bobby knows EXACTLY what's missing, because of course he does. "He'll be along. Time up here, it's different. You got everything you could ever want, or need, or dream. So I guess the question is, what are you gonna do now, Dean?" Well, Dean doesn't have everything he could ever want or need, but he does see one thing - Baby. With her Kansas plates! Friends, that's two things I requested before the end that I didn't think I would ever see: a forehead touch, and Baby wearing her original plates. Thank you, Jack.

Dean's face lights up. "I think I'll go for a drive." As he walks to his car, we see the cabin is actually Harvelle's Roadhouse, albeit smaller, I think. Dean settles into his car and says "Hey, Baby" and when he turns her on, "Carry On Wayward Son" begins to play.

I know he looks good in Purgatory, but DAMN if he don't look fine in Heaven, too.

We cut to the name Dean, which is embroidered on - a little boy's overalls. Sam's little boy. Oh, wow. I was not prepared for this. Sam has a son named Dean, and we switch back and forth between Dean driving through Heaven and scenes of Sam's life with his son and his mysterious, barely-seen wife. She has long dark hair, and I'd like to point out that she could easily be either Eileen or Dr. Cara Roberts. Just saying. Sam's house is full of family photos, including the one of him and Dean from his memory box and a new one from the episode Lebanon. I never thought about the fact that they might have actually taken a photo, and if they did, would it still be around after Sam smashed the pearl? Well, obviously, yes. We see Sam throwing a ball with his son, helping him with his homework (Sam in glasses? Check!) and just obviously really loving this kid and giving him the childhood he never had. We also see a really, really unfortunate grey wig that I refuse to screencap. You're welcome. As aging Sam sits in the hundred-year-old car in his garage, his dead brother drives happily along dirt roads in Heaven, and I'd prefer my Heaven have paved roads, thanks.

We end in Sam's house, now complete with hospital bed. Sam could be in his 80s or even 90s, which means he could have lived another 50 years, more or less, after Dean died. His son doesn't look any older than his 20s or 30s (and also looks vaguely South Asian to me), and I wonder how old Sam was when he finally let himself have a family. Remember when Dean said his happy ending was for Sam to have kids and get old? Well, he got it, finally. Did Sam get a regular job? Did he keep hunting? We don't know. What we do know is that his son has a anti-possession tattoo. Some people have taken this to mean young Dean is a hunter, but I don't think we can jump to that conclusion. It could just be 1) Dean wanted a tattoo like his father's, or b) Sam knows there are still demons out there and that his son would naturally be a target, hunter or not.

All right, I had to screencap teary-eyed Sam grasping the steering wheel and reliving his years with his brother in this car, so we can just pretend we don't see The Wig, okay?

Sam's evidently in hospice care. Or maybe we'll all have hospital beds in our houses in 50 years. Who knows. His son sits on the bed and takes his hand. Sam smiles at him, and Dean says "Dad, it's okay. You can go now." PARALLELLS! As some woman sings "Carry On Wayward Son" for whatever reason (why didn't they use the lovely a cappella version they already had from Fan Fiction?), Sam places his hand on Dean's and takes his last breath.

{Sidebar: Where is Sam's wife in all of this? Divorced? Already dead? She doesn't seem to be in the family pictures, so I'm going with divorced. Discuss.}

Heaven. Oh, guys. I've done this rewatch without tearing up at all but I'm about to tip over. The Impala pulls onto a bridge. Dean gets out. (Now your life's no longer empty, surely Heaven waits for you.) He stands at the bridge railing, enjoying Heaven, smiling. And then he feels something and he smiles even more because he knows it's Sam. Oh god, Jensen did such a good job here. Just this fucking smile killed me dead. "Hey, Sammy," he says. He turns and there is Sam, wearing the same outfit he wore in 1.01 (they both are, but Sam's is a bigger departure from his later years). Why? I don't know. But I know it means Sam Winchester is spending eternity in something that isn't a plaid shirt. How do we feel about that?

"Dean," Sam says. They face each other and smile, and it's the smile of we just survived a hunt I didn't think we'd survive or our son just overpowered God or something along those lines. Then they embrace, and I love the way Sam hesitates just a little before clapping a hand on Dean's back. Like he's afraid it isn't really happening, and he doesn't want to break the illusion. I also love that Dean, as always, takes the top (oh, get your minds out of the gutter) and hugs as if he were taller than Sam. Then Dean puts his hand on the back of Sam's neck and turns him to admire the view and he has this joyous smile like now, this is FINALLY Heaven. And he gazes at Sam like look, Sammy, look what we did. Look what we get. The lack of dialog in this scene is just ~chef's kiss~. The camera goes wide and we see the three main characters, Sam and Dean and Baby, enjoying the Heaven they deserve.

I would like to know where they filmed this, because it's gorgeous even without the Winchesters.

Did Sam's entire life go by in the span of Dean's drive? Or did Dean just decide he'd drive until his brother arrived, no matter how long it took? And how much do I love the fact that he could have gone and visited his parents but instead he said "nah, I'll drive around and wait for Sam?" SO MUCH, PEOPLE. SO MUCH.

Also, can we talk about the fact that Sam didn't know what to expect in Heaven? I mean, Ash said they were soulmates and would share a Heaven, but why would he believe that? And he might have even still believed he'd have a hard time getting into Heaven. What a relief it must have been to show up on Dean's bridge.

And then Jared and Jensen thank us. You're welcome, boys. Thank you.

So. Thursday night I was mildly positive about the episode. But on rewatch, I'm extremely positive. Sure, I would have loved the Six Feet Under ending where we see everyone's fate. And maybe that would have happened if not for Covid. But I'm just relieved we didn't get the Game of Thrones or How I Met Your Mother endings. I'm not sure this current cohort could have done better, honestly. Sam wanted a normal family life. Dean wanted Sam to have a normal family life. But Sam was never going to stop hunting as long as Dean was hunting. And Dean wasn't going to stop hunting as long as he was alive. Dean got the end he wanted/expected and the Heaven he earned (and Sam caring for Jack was directly responsible for Heaven's improvements). Sam got to live a normal life and have a family. As I said earlier, I suspect his marriage didn't last. (Or maybe he and Eileen or Cara got married for insurance purposes, and happily co-parented little Dean, but knew they weren't each other's one true love.) But I actually prefer that. Dean loved Sam more than he loved anyone. Sam loved Dean the same way. I'm glad Sam got to have a child (who he loves as much as his brother, but in a different way), but I don't want Sam and Dean to share their Heaven with Sam's wife.

Now, would I have done Dean's death differently? Yes. I did appreciate that they had him upright, so the brothers were face to face, just like AHBL. But being impaled on a spike was just less dramatic that I would have liked. I would have preferred that Sam immediately see his brother was dying, instead of Dean having to explain it to him. Dean could have had his jugular torn, slowly bleeding out, and still been on his knees (held up by Sam, hell yes) making his deathbed speech. And then I wouldn't have thought "would an ambulance be here by now if you'd called them?" halfway through it.

{Sidebar: What if Sam had fed Dean some blood from one of the dead vamps. Wouldn't that have kept him undead long enough to get fixed up, and then they could have done the vampire cure? Discuss.}

I know some people are very unhappy about the finale. Honestly, from what I can tell, most of those people are hard-core Destiel shippers. And I guess they wanted, as they always do, for the Dean and Castiel relationship to be more important than the Dean and Sam relationship. Sorry, guys, that was never gonna happen. In the end, it came down to the epic love story of Sam and Dean, just as it should have.

So, I'm sad and I'm happy. I'm bereft and I'm full. I miss my boys, but my boys will always be with me. I hope you guys will be with me for a long time, too.

#spn #15.20 #spoilers #recap #tv recaps

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dickspeightjrs · 4 years

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Guardian Angel - (au / 3.2k words) *check tags for warnings*

ao3 link

Dean could see his breath cut through the air in front of his face. It was a weird feeling knowing that it’d be gone soon.

He walked further along the river, the city lights reflecting off the still night water. So many people amongst those lights and not one of them would notice when he was gone.

He was done. In every way. Life was drowning him. It had been pulling him under the water for years. Every time he thought he could stay afloat another hand came to grab his ankle and tug him under again.

Dean hated to seem all woe is me, he knew other people had it so much worse than he did. It was that thought that had made him bury his inner turmoil for so long.

That, and his brother, Sam. Life hadn’t been great to either of them but Sam had made it out of their small middle-of-nowhere town and to Stanford for college. He’d been there for two years now and Dean couldn’t be prouder.

But, Dean also hadn’t seen his brother for those two years. It was safe to say he hadn’t been as successful as Sam. He’d been stuck in their home town with their deadbeat dad. Dean couldn’t afford to get out to California and he sure as shit wasn’t letting Sam use his money to visit. (It may also have something to do with the fact that Dean didn’t want Sam to see what a shitshow his life had become.)

So, Dean had been struggling but he got through on the thought that, once he saved enough money, he’d join Sam in Palo Alto and kiss this crummy town (and their dad) goodbye.

That was until today at least, when Sam called Dean during his lunch break to tell him that he’d asked his girlfriend, Jess, to marry him. He was flustered because it had been a spur of the moment thing but the first thing he’d done after was ring his brother.

Dean was over the moon for Sam. Until Sam told him that him and Jess, of course, would be moving in together.

“But it’s okay,” Sam had said.

“You can still come out here,” he’d said.

“We’ll find you your own apartment,” he’d said.

Dean’s stomach had dropped. He’d been saving all the money left over after bills (which wasn’t much on a basic mechanic’s salary) to pay for the first few months rent on a place with Sam. He’d just needed enough to cover him while he found a job. Finding somewhere new and on his own would be even more expensive. It was going to take even longer now for Dean to get out.

He’d congratulated his brother and ended the call as soon as he could. He could have broken down right there but he had to get back to work and couldn’t lose his job, now more than ever.

Later, he’d trudged through his front door. He’d spent all afternoon thinking of what he could do now his plans had changed. But nothing motivated him.

He’d been so in his head that he hadn’t noticed the state of his apartment at first. Once he’d entered the living room, he saw that everything had been overturned. The shelves and cupboards had been ransacked.

Immediately, he’d felt sick when he saw that the tin he kept his savings in had been emptied. He knew straight away who had been there. His dad. John was the only other person with a key and there were no signs of a break in. Dean cursed himself for even giving John a key in the first place. John didn’t care about him. He didn’t care about stealing from his own son.

So now, Dean had nothing. No plan. No money. No brother or father. Nothing.

What was the point?

That’s how Dean had ended up here. On the outskirts of the city, walking towards the bridge that led into town.

Sam had a new life and it didn’t include Dean. It was obvious, but it was okay.

He took a deep breath as the bridge came into view. He took determined strides towards it. He knew that if he hesitated for even a second, he wouldn’t go through with it. He’d chicken out like always. And for once in his life, he wanted to get something right.

Blinded by his tunnel vision, Dean failed to see the person walking towards him. He only snapped out of his determined walk when he collided with the person’s shoulder.

On instinct, Dean reached back to steady the person - a guy it seemed. “Sorry, man,” he apologised. “Wait. Cas? Is that you?” He couldn’t believe it. Castiel Novak. He’d recognise those blue eyes anywhere.

Those blue eyes squinted back. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Dean’s heart sank.

He and Cas had known each other in high school.

They weren’t necessarily the best of friends. They were partnered for biology class. Despite what his appearance of tattoos and piercings might have made people think, Castiel wanted to be a doctor. He was smart as hell so he already knew it all. And Dean, well, he’d already figured out by then that he’d never amount to anything so he just didn’t try.

The two boys would sit at the back of the classroom and mess around like two teenagers would. Cas was known around school for being a bit of a class clown and he easily managed to pull Dean down with him.

They never spoke outside of biology. Castiel had his own friends and Dean, well Dean didn’t have any friends really. To anyone else, it was as if they didn’t know each other at all. But, regardless, those lessons with Castiel were oftentimes the highlight of Dean’s day. He always knew he’d leave school that day with something to smile about.

Unfortunately, once biology classes ended, so did their fleeting friendship. Dean assumed Cas had gone to some top college and hadn’t looked back to their shitty town.

But now he was back.

And he didn’t remember Dean.

Of course, once again, the friendship meant more to Dean than it did to Cas. Would anyone ever care about Dean the same way he cared about them?

Dean let his shoulders slump and he turned to carry on his journey towards the bridge. “Forget it.” he mumbled.

He cursed himself for thinking, perhaps hoping, that maybe seeing Cas at this moment was a sign not to go through with this. A sign to keep fighting for something.

What an idiot.

He started walking away when a hand grabbed his wrist. “Dean,” Cas’ voice came from behind him, “I’m sorry. I was just kidding, messing around. Like we used to in high school? Of course I know you. I couldn’t forget you.”

Dean turned around to look at Cas. He could see Cas’ lips carry on moving with speech but the sound didn’t reach Dean’s ears. He didn’t know what to think or feel or say.

When he still hadn’t said anything, Castiel stopped his ranted apology to take a breath and look at Dean properly. Dean didn’t know what the other man could see in his face but whatever it was made Cas’ expression change from one of confusion to soft concern.

“Dean, are you okay?” Castiel reached back across the gap between them and touched Dean lightly on the back of the hand.

Was he okay?

God, how could he answer that question?

Am I okay? Dean asked himself. No I’m fucking not okay.

The adrenaline that had been pushing him through the last hour after finding his apartment trashed, left his body. The whiplash of emotions he’d been feeling drained the energy out of him. He didn’t want to die but he couldn’t carry on with this blackness tethered to him.

Am I okay?

I’ve never been okay.

Before he could stop them, tears began to fall from Dean’s eyes. He shook his head. “No,” he whispered, “I’m not okay.”

With no hesitation, Castiel pulled Dean into a tight hug. Dean struggled to speak through the sobs that had started racking through his body, so Castiel just squeezed tighter and stroked a comforting hand through Dean’s hair.

When the sobs subsided, Dean pulled away from Cas and immediately cringed at the scene he’d just created.

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry, man.” He wiped the tears from his face. “Look, just forget this happened. It was good to see you. I gotta go.”

Dean tried to leave again, turning once again to face the bridge.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice cut through the night air. “I’m not letting you go anywhere right now. Not when you’re like this.” Blue eyes looked at his earnestly. “Please, Dean, if something happened now, I’d never forgive myself.” He looked behind Dean, at the bridge looming.

Dean didn’t know if Cas had actually figured out his plans but it had been so long since someone had asked if he was okay and actually seemed to mean it.

Maybe, Dean was being naive. Maybe this would lead to disappointment again but he had nothing left to lose. The bridge would still be there tomorrow. Nothing would change if he left it another day.

Castiel could see that Dean had relented so he reached out to quickly squeeze Dean’s hand.

“Come on, there’s a 24 hour coffee shop on the corner. We can talk if you want? Or just have coffee.” He didn’t wait for an answer, which Dean was grateful for - he wasn’t sure he could speak even if he wanted to.

* * *

Half an hour later, saw the two men sat opposite each other in the corner of an empty coffee shop. The only other person was the guy behind the counter, who seemed fixated on cleaning one of the coffee machines.

Dean’s leg was bouncing under the table and he resisted the urge not to bite his nails. Anxiety coursed through his body and seeing his reflection in the shop window didn’t help. The lights in the room showed the harsh truth of the toll today’s events had taken on Dean.

Castiel hadn’t said much, other than asking for Dean’s coffee order, which Dean was grateful for. But, Dean knew Castiel hadn’t only been offering coffee when he’d invited him here.

“So,” Dean started, “you’re probably wondering what the hell that was all about..” He smiled self deprecatingly.

Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s sitting on the table top. “Dean, I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

The feel of Cas’ hand on his made Dean want to cry all over again. The gesture was so small but it had been so long since someone had touched him with any kind of affection.

“No, Cas. It’s okay. I guess I need to tell someone.”

And from there Dean spent the next hour just spilling his guts to Castiel. Every gory detail of his entire life.

And Castiel just sat there and listened. Dean had never felt so heard. Normally, someone would listen just long enough to be polite and then change the subject to whatever they’d wanted to talk about.

But Cas, this dude Dean hadn’t seen since high school (who he’d barely even known then either), had sat for an hour and listened. And he never let go of Dean’s hand. Giving him the anchor he needed to stay in the moment, to feel stronger than he had in years.

When Dean finished (he’d left out what he’d been planning to do right before he’d bumped into Cas, though he imagined Cas had guessed) he felt like a weight had been lifted.

He looked to Castiel and saw tears forming around beautiful blue eyes.

“Thank you for telling me, Dean,” he breathed. “I can’t imagine what this must have been like for you to live with all these years.”

“Thanks, man. I don’t like talking about it much. I know other people have got it worse, y’know?” Dean shrugged.

“Someone else’s problems don’t erase yours, Dean.” Castiel moved his hand to link his fingers properly with Dean’s. “I promise you.”

Dean shrugged again but kept hold of Cas’ hand. He didn’t agree but he wasn’t going to argue with Castiel.

“Now,” Castiel continued, “I do have an offer for you. You can think about it, you don’t have to say yes. And I understand that it won’t just magically fix all your problems and -”

“Cas, you’re rambling, dude,” Dean smiled.

“Sorry,” Castiel blushed. “Well, I’m only in town for a few days - I live in San Francisco now.”

Dean’s stomach dropped. Of course, the one ray of light he’d had in days was leaving for fucking California of all places. Fuck California.

Castiel must have seen the shift in Dean’s mood again, because he lifted Dean’s chin from where he’d been focused on the scratches on the table.

“Dean, let me finish,” he said, softly. “As I was saying, I live in San Francisco but my roommate just moved to live with her girlfriend. So, if you’d still like to be close to your brother and have a fresh start, the room is yours.”

Dean stared wide-eyed at Cas.

“D-Dude, are you sure?”

“Of course.” Cas assured him.

Dean saw nothing but sincerity in his expression.

“Look, I can’t guarantee I’ll be the best company most of the time. I’m not used to actually living with someone anymore. Unless you count my dad, I guess, but he’s gone most of the time, God knows where.” Dean shook his head.

“It’s okay, Dean. We’ll figure it out together.” Cas smiled, shyly.

A thought occurred to Dean. “But, dude, I have no savings now. I wouldn’t be able to pay rent until I find a job,” he sighed. “And mechanics are probably dime a dozen there. I ain’t special.” He shrugged.

“Dean, look at me.”

Dean took a breath and met Cas’ gaze. He still felt so uncertain about his place in this world and he was so used to the rug being pulled from under him. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe would drop.

“You are special.” Castiel implored. “We may not have seen each other in years, and we weren’t even that close back then, but I can see it in you. You are special. You are talented. You deserve to have a future. In whatever way you want it.”

“But Cas.” Dean sighed.

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” Castiel frowned. It was a statement not a question.

Dean couldn’t get over how well Castiel could read him, after so little time spent together. It was like he could see into Dean’s soul. He glanced down at their clasped hands, he certainly didn’t know what that meant but he was grateful for the source of comfort.

Squeezing Cas’ hand, Dean looked out the window at the street lights shining up at the intimidating bridge above. “I guess, I don’t.” He smiled, softly.

Silence cushions the two men for a few moments, Dean continues to look out of the window. It’s late so there’s barely anyone out but there’s a few stragglers walking the street, a couple of people rushing home after a super long day at work. And two people walking hand-in-hand along the water edge. They seemed so into their own little bubble that a meteor could hit and they’d be none the wiser. Dean’s mouth lifted at the edge.

Maybe he could have that one day.

Fuck it.

“I’ll do it.” He turned back to make eye contact with Castiel who had been patiently waiting for Dean to gather his thoughts, softly stroking Dean’s hand.

The responding grin from Cas shone brighter than any of the street lights could ever hope to.

* * *

Two days later, Dean packed up what little possessions he had in his car and started the road trip with Cas back to San Francisco.

Castiel had insisted that Dean didn’t need to give him a ride, he’d happily fly like he’d originally planned, but Dean wasn’t having any of it. He saw it as a perfect opportunity for the two of them to catch up and learn each other. (Plus if he had to do the drive by himself, he was scared he’d change his mind and turn right back around.)

Dean decided not to contact Sam and tell him about his move just yet. He wanted to be sure it was going to work out before getting him involved. He left a note for John but he doubted his father would ever see it.

It turns out Cas is still as funny and goofy as he was in high school. People shouldn’t be fooled by the tattoos that covered his arms (which Dean looked forward to seeing more of when they got to know each other better). He looked all the part of a punk ass dude but really he was a dork who had a slightly questionable obsession with bees.

Dean laughed more on that road trip than he had in years.

* * *

It was early evening by the time they arrived at Castiel’s apartment. The sun was casting an orange light through the windows, which made the whole place quietly glow.

As soon as Dean walked through the door he knew he was home. He wouldn’t be turning back.

Castiel took Dean by the hand and showed him to his new room. Forgetting the room itself for a moment, the view from the window was beautiful, the evening sun filtered across the bed. Dean could see himself being happy here.

“It’s not much,” Castiel said, “but it’s yours now and you can do whatever you want with it.” He smiled warmly at Dean.

Dean beamed back at him. “I’ll wait until I’ve actually got a job before I plan any home improvements,” he chuckled, “Gotta start paying rent first.”

“Dean, take your time, honestly, it’s ok-”

Dean’s finger on Castiel’s lips stopped the other man from speaking. “Cas, dude, first thing tomorrow I am job hunting. You’ve given me a chance when I probably didn’t deserve it. I’m going to spend the rest of my life repaying you.” He blushed slightly at what his last few words sounded like, though the idea wasn’t completely unwelcome.

Castiel understood the unintentional double meaning too, if the pink on his cheeks was anything to go by.

* * *

Dean still had his bad days. Days when he couldn’t help but feel like such a burden to everyone around him, Castiel especially. Days when all he wanted to do was pack up and run away. Even some days when he wanted to look for the nearest bridge again.

But for every one of those days, Dean had plenty more that made him keep fighting. For every day that he fell to the floor, he had someone to fight his corner and pick him back up again.

And, in the end, Dean never needed to redecorate his room. It turned into the guest room less than two months after he arrived.

A/N: I went on a bit of a rollercoaster with this one! First I hated it, now I quite like it and am thinking of doing a couple of timestamps/sequels in the future maybe.

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill!

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover

(just tagging a bunch of cool peeps, let me know if you want to be tagged/removed in future works)

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opheliadying · 4 years

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How to Make the Supernatural Series Finale Better:

Before we get started. I wrote this very quickly so there are probably spelling and grammar error, but I’s totally appreciate it if someone read it. It is a bit long though. Also, please note that I’m not a big shipper of any of the Ships on the show. Everything I highlight here makes the most sense to me as someone who loves all the characters and appreciates all the Ships. I give options for Destiel shippers and people who don’t ship it.

First, Let’s Start With What I Liked About It:

Dean got a dog (aka Miracle). In the past, we’ve seen Sam get attached to dogs, but Dean getting attached to one shows his emotional growth as a character. In the past, the idea of loving anyone other than family baffled Dean. Now Dean sees that he’s full of love (thanks to Cas) and can give it out more freely.

Jared and Jensen’s acting. While I don’t like that Dean died the way he did, the scene itself was beautifully acted and made me bawl my eyes out. I was also emotionally affected by Jared’s growing old montage (you could feel the grief in every scene). No matter what we think of the writing, we must tip our hats off to that acting. I personally believe that Jared’s only said this was one of his favorite episodes because of the emotional scenes between Sam and Dean and to try to make the fans feel better about the show edning.

The throwaway line about Castiel. While I would’ve like to have seen a lot more. It was a comfort to know he was with Jack and not in the Empty.

Heaven. I’m glad that we saw the original Bobby, and that we saw Sam and Dean Reunite in Heaven.

Now, What I Didn’t Like About the Finale:

Dean’s acceptance. Dean acting like he and Sam couldn’t fight for Castiel and not contacting Jack. (Just makes no sense.)

Dean’s death. Dean died way too young and without being able to enjoy his freedom.

Sam’s grief. Sam lived the rest of his knife with heavy grief. He never got over Dean’s death because Dean never got to truly live.

Eileen’s absence. They didn’t even show Sam using ASL for us to know if that was Eileen. What? (I’m just choosing to believe).

Where’s Miracle? The dog should have joined Dean in Heave.

Where’s Cas and Jack? Castiel and Jack should have had screen time.

A lacking reunion. There should have been a bigger heavenly reunion.

Bad aging. They struggled to age Sam, like what’s that about?

How the Episode Could Have Been 1000x Better:

Redirect focus. Instead of a weak monster of the week story, focus the final episode of Sam and Dean growing old and living their lives.

Sam and Dean’s story together before death. They hunt for several more years but then decide to settle down. They become the new Bobby’s and help other hunters out by answering calls and pitching in when needed. They schedule an annual hunting trip every year to relive the “good old days”. They live as neighbors (either beside each other or in the same neighborhood). They are a frequent part of each other’s lives. They make the Bunker a community place for hunters and take turns monitoring it.

Castiel’s story before death (with two options). Option one (the heterosexual option), Sam and Dean pray to Jack about Casitel. Jack comes and tells them Cas is helping him fix the mess Chuck left behind but that he’ll be along when he can. A few years later, Castiel and Jack visit the Winchesters (everyone hugs). Dean tells Castiel he loves him too, but doesn’t know how to love him romantically. Castiel says that’s okay, that it’s enough to just be loved by him at all. Castiel doesn’t fall in love with anyone else, he is only able to truly love Dean, he stays an Angel and is content with his life. Option two (the homosexual option), Sam and Dean pray to Jack about Casitel. Jack comes and tells them Cas is helping him fix the mess Chuck left behind but that he’ll be along when he can. A few months later, Castiel and Jack visit the Winchesters (everyone hugs). Dean tells Castiel that he loves him too, that he fills whole when Castiel’s in his life. He expresses worry about not knowing how to be sexual with a man. It makes him nervous to feel so virginal about it. They connect foreheads, Cas tells him that’s okay, they’ll figure it out and they do (a kiss isn’t necessary but I’m down with it). Castiel becomes human, Sam removes his grace and keep it safe in the Bunker. Dean and Castiel adopt a girl and give her the same name Mary Samantha Winchester.

Dean’s story before death (with two options). Option one (the heterosexual option), Dean opens up a bar where hunters come often (like the Roadhouse). He hangs up photos of all the people they’ve lost along the way. He has a kid with a woman he had a one-night stand with, they don’t love each other but they’re good friends. His child is a daughter, he names her Mary Samantha Winchester. Option two (the bisexual option), like above Dean, tells Castiel he loves him and that he’s nervous, but they figure it out. Dean tells Sam he’s bi and that he loves Cas, he’s nervous about what Sam will say, but Sam smiles and hugs him. He tells him he’s happy for the two of them and that he always felt they had a strong connection. Dean and Castiel have a small wedding, only their beautiful made family is invited. No one judged them, everyone is happy for them. Jack is there, so happy for two for his Dads (Sam’s story below). Castiel becomes human, Sam removes his grace and keep it safe in the Bunker. Dean and Castiel adopt a girl and give her the same name Mary Samantha Winchester.

Sam’s story before death. Sam and Eileen get together, get married, and have the same son (because I’m choosing to believe that was her). Jack is also at their wedding and so happy for them. They name him Robert Dean Winchester and call him Bobby. Sam goes back to school, becomes a professor of mythology and tells his students “made up” stories about two brothers who fought all kinds of monsters. Some of his students secretly think he's a big Supernatural (the books) fan, but all his students like him. They think he’s warm and quirky.

Jack’s story. Jack sees Sam, Dean, and Cas weekly to monthly for several years. There comes a point where the system he creator works well on it’s on and needs little interference, He lives his life helping as many people as he can and spending time with his family. Dean tells him he is a part of their family and apologizes for ever saying otherwise. Sam, Cas, And Dean all at some point call him Son and Jack feels like he belongs. (Maybe he falls in love at some point, with an angel or a witch?) He remains a good God became of the love he learned from the Winchesters and Cas (who is also a Winchester damn it). He restores all the other worlds/dimensions, the people from Apoloaypse world go back they ask that he heal the world but not change their fates, they like who they are now and the families they’ve formed. We see Charlie/Stevie and Bobby happy in this world. Kevin is sent to Heaven. We see how Jack made a deal with the Empty, he put her to sleep and made the Empty quite again before he got Cas (which she agreed to). Jack restores Donatello’s soul.

Chuck’s story. Chuck lives as a human for the rest of his life, many of those years are miserable until he meets someone that makes him feel true love for the first time. He writes a letter to Sam and Dean apologizing for everything and thanking them for turning him human. The author becomes a character in his favorite story, and he’s so happy he has no say over the end.

Amara’s story. Amara wishes to be human, so Jack makes her a human vessel but keeps her powers (which she agrees to). She lives out a beautiful life filled with love and luxury. Chuck write to Amara too. She does eventually forgive Chuck, not because he deserves it, but because that just who she is.

Dean’s death (with two options). Option one (the heterosexual option), Dean does die on a hunting trip in his late 50s to 60s, he gives Sam the same beautiful speech and they share the same emotional intensity (and head touch). He goes to heaven, Bobby and Miracle are there to greet him. They have the same conversation and he goes on a drive. On the drive he runs into Castiel, they have a heart to heart before he goes on to find Sammy. Option two (the bisexual option), the same as before BUT, Sam calls Castiel first. Castiel gets there in time to say goodbye. Jack does come down, but with Dean’s declining health, he tells Jack he’s ready to go. They all respect his decision and say goodbye. He goes to heaven, Bobby and Miracle are there to greet him. They have the same conversation and he goes on a drive. On the drive he runs into Castiel, and say’s “it’s about time” but it didn’t feel that long to Dean. They embrace tearfully.

Castiel’s death (with two options). Option one (the heterosexual option), he doesn’t die. He stays an Angel. Option two (the homosexual option), after Dean dies on a hunting trip he moves in with Sam and Eileen. We see him struggle with grief, he cries beside Baby and sniffs Dean's clothes. He lives another five years and dies of cancer. When he arrives in Heaven, he’s on a highway, and Dean drives up to him in Baby and say’s “it’s about time” but it didn’t feel that long to Dean. They embrace tearfully.

Eileen’s death. Eileen dies a few months before Sam of old age (aka heart failure). She goes to heaven, Dean and Castiel find her on their drive. They welcome her into the car with smiles.

Sam’s death. We do see a montage of scenes with Sam struggling with grief. He does break down in the Impala, he cries into Cas’ trench coat, and he hugs Eileen's pillow as he cries. His son is there and his niece to support him through it. Sam dies a few months after Eileen. His son Bobby, and niece Mary, come in and Bobby says goodbye like in the show, but before Sam fades away he see’s Jack in the back of the room (his first son) and he knows everything is going to be okay. He goes to heaven, Dean, Castiel, and Eileen meet him on the road. They all have an individual tearful moment together. Sam and Dean have an intense hug, Sam and Cas hug, Eileen and Sam kiss, and he pets Miracle. They get into the car and drive.

Heaven. Heaven is changed as Bobby said, Jack and Casitel did good. (yes, John is there, he’s an ass, but the boys would want him there for some reason). The four of them drive up to the Roadhouse to find Bobby and Jack waiting outside. Jack tells them every one is waiting, Bobby says “family don’t end with blood”, they open the doors for them, and we see everyone they lost along the way in the Roadhouse: John, Mary, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Charlie, Kevin, etc (literally everyone except maybe Crowley and Rowena because IDK how that would work?). Castiel, Eileen, Jack, and Bobby walk inside. Dean takes Sam by the shoulder. Dean says, “we did good” and Sam says “yeah, want to go have some chick flick moments?”. Dean laughs and says, “I love chick flicks.”, and Sam laughs and says “I know you do” and they join their family. We get a scene of them all reunited with “Carry on My Wayward Son” playing in the background. Fade to black.

Anyway, that’d how I think they could have made the finale better while still using the basic structure the created. So yeah, I’m heartbroken. Thanks for reading.

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

Stay Away

Characters: Sam WInchester x black!reader

Summary: The reader constantly pushes Sam away.

Warnings: Angst with a fluffy ending

A/N: For all the black girls that love Supernatural but don’t feel seen in the show or the fandom

Something heavy was holding you under. Trying your best, you rolled over trying to break out, but you couldn’t. For a couple of minutes, you tried some more eventually breaking out only to go back under the covers to hide your naked body from whoever was unlocking the door.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!”

Groaning Sam rolled over to protect you from Dean’s prying eye. “Dude, privacy!” Sam threw a pillow at his brother.

“I gave you enough privacy when I slept in the back of Baby.”

Dean set his coffee cup down and came to your side of the bed, dangling a cup over you. “For you, sweetheart,” he winked.

“Thank you.” Your eyes couldn’t quite meet his because you knew he knew you were naked under there.

Sam cleared his throat when Dean lingered too long.

“Oh right, I’m just gonna,” Dean scratched his head and looked around the room. “I’m gonna go outside and get some fresh air.”

Both you and Sam gave his brother tight smiles.

“Thanks Dean!” Sam yelled out as the door closed.

Dean? As in Sam and Dean Winchester? Oh no, this couldn’t be happening. As soon as Sam gave you some wiggle room, you scrambled to get up and put your clothes on.

Sam sneaked behind you laid his chin on your shoulder and kissed your neck. “You’re off in a rush.

Turning in his arms, you had to lean back and get a good look at him. God, he was beautiful. Too bad this would be your last time seeing him.

“Your brother seems ready to go. It’s best I get going.”

Sam pressed his lips to yours, trying to memorize everything about them. When he finished he pressed his forehead against yours he told you, “I promise to call you next time I’m in town.”

Picking up your bag and heading out the door, you saluted him. “See ya, Sammy.”

He waved goodbye and didn’t even bother to correct you. Suddenly, he didn’t mind being called that.

—

It hurt like hell to leave him like that, but it was for the best. You and Sam Winchester could not be a thing.

However, you should’ve known fate was a cruel bitch. While you were working a case, the Winchesters showed up. You could see the surprise on his face when him and Dean came into the morgue.

When the coroner left, it was anything but awkward.

“You’re a hunter?” Sam asked, forgetting about the dead body on the slab.

“Can we focus on work?” When he looked like he wasn’t gonna give up, you tried a softer tone. “Please?”

Sam gave up for now and focused on the body.

“Okay, awkward.” Dean sung, turning the victim’s head to see a nasty bite.

It was clear it was a vampire bite. Just your freakin’ luck. You on a vampire hunt with Sam Winchester. Fate really hated you.

Leaving the morgue, you made a beeline to your car with Sam close behind.

“We could work together on this, you know?”

Shrugging your fed jacket, you gave Sam an once over and had to resist those beautiful hazel eyes. “I don’t work with other hunters. Especially ones I’ve slept with.”

“I don’t know what I did, but let me make it up to you, please Y/N.”

“You’re Sam Winchester, that’s what you did. Everything, everyone you touch ends up dead. I don’t wanna be apart of that body count.” It hurt to say those words, but you had to push him away. No good could come from you and Sam being together.

Despite all your efforts you couldn’t avoid either Winchester. They showed up at the same time as you to kill the nest.

After the bodies were burned you tried to run to your car quickly, but damn Sam and his Daddy long legs.

“What Sam?” Cold and callous was the way to go. You couldn’t risk him trying to get close.

He blocked your path to your car door, giving you no choice but to talk to him. “It’s Sammy.”

“I thought you didn’t like Sammy?”

“When it comes from you, I do.”

You had to fight the smile that was forming on your lips. “Sammy, I have vampire guts all over me and all I really want to do is take a shower. What do you want?”

Sam struggled to find the right words. How does he say to the woman he met for one night only that he has strong feelings for her? When words failed him, he took the next course of best action. Kissing you.

His kiss took you by surprise, but in no time, you caught up. Sam backed you up onto the hood of your car and you wrapped your legs around him, your hands running through his brown locks.

“Sammm,” you whimpered his name when you pulled away.

He refused to let you get away, Sam held you close as possible. “I know you feel this. This connection we have. Why fight it?”

“Because…”

“Because what, Y/N?”

“Because you killed my dad!”

Sam stumbled back as if you gave him your right hook. “What? Who?”

“My name is Y/N Walker.”

Walker? Sam hasn’t heard that name in years. “Your dad is Gordon Walker?” The same Gordon Walker that tried to kill him multiple times.

“Yes and you killed him.”

Still stunned Sam didn’t have time to react to you getting into your car driving away. Once Dean snapped him out of it, Sam was sure he never see you again.

—

Demons had sucky intel. Somehow, they heard you were Sam Winchester’s girlfriend and now they were using you as bait.

“I already told your fugly ass that me and Sam Winchester are not a couple!”

The demon bent down to where you were tied up to a post. He slid a knife across your chest with just enough pressure to cause some bleeding to start. “Doesn’t matter either way. Old Sammy boy will come running to save you.”

There was a loud crash behind the door followed by some gunshots. The demon flicked his eyes to black and stabbed you in the thigh. “Looks like the fun just starting!”

Soon, Sam and Dean burst through the door fighting off more demons. It was a bit of a struggle, but they killed every last demon.

Sam ran to you, but you could barely make out his face while going in and out of consciousness. The last thing you remembered was Sam repeating your name, carrying you to the car.

—

You woke up in a unfamiliar place and miraculously healed. No cuts, no bruises, no stab wounds.

The door opened to reveal Sam with a bottle of water. “You’re up? That’s good.” He handed you the drink and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Where am I?”

“Our ho- I mean my home.” Sam corrected himself when he saw your glare.

“Thank you for saving my life. Your angel friend, he heal me?”

“Cas, yeah and don’t mention it. You were right anyone who gets close to me gets hurt.”

“Sam,” you sighed, reaching out to hold his hand. “I just said that to get you to stay away. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Then why did you say it?��

“My dad.”

Sam hung his head and rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. “Of course. Um, you can stay as long as you like. Dean’s making burgers and they’re really good.”

He made his way out the door, but you stop him by grabbing his wrist. “It’s not what you think.”

“Right,” he replied sarcastically. “I get it, Y/N, you don’t wanna be with the guy that killed your dad.”

“No! I just doubt you want to be with the girl whose dad tried to kill you multiple times.”

“What?” Sam returned to the bed, sitting a little bit closer to you.

You closed the space between you and Sam, your knees knocking into each other. “Listen, my dad was a dick. He raised me to be the perfect little soldier and when I didn’t help him on his crusade to kill you, he practically disowned me. So honestly, I don’t care that you killed him. I’m just sorry that I didn’t try to stop him.”

He kills your dad, albeit your dad was crazy, but he was still your dad and you were worried about how he would feel about you. Amazing, Sam thought.

Effortlessly, Sam pulled you into his lap and stroked up and down your spine. A moan escaped your mouth and you rested your forehead on his shoulder.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Sam turned his head to kiss your cheek. “I kill your dad and you’re telling me you’re sorry? “

“I don’t want you to hate me. That’s why I pushed you away,” you muttered, your voice matching your soft eyes.

Sam pushes one of your errant curls behind your ear, following it with a kiss to your nose. “I could never hate you. Question is: do you hate me?”

“No.” The word was out in an instant and you meant it 100%. Actually, hate was a strong opposite for what you were feeling for Sam.

Before you knew you were flat on your back with Sam attacking your lips. Your hands shot up to his hair so you can run your fingers through them.

You were in the process in getting Sam’s shirt off when there was a loud bang on the door.

“I did not make all this food for it to only get cold. You two can hump like bunnies after you eat!” Dean yelled from the other side of the door.

“Ugh, do we have to?” You whispered already fixing Sam’s clothes.

Sam chuckled and kissed you before getting up. “Yeah or he’ll keep banging on the door. You’ll have to get use to Dean and his childish ways.”

Wrapping your arms around Sam, you rested your chin on his chest. “Does that mean you want me to stay?”

Sam’s face lit up. He picked you up and pushed you against the door. “Yes.”

His lips were descending to yours but were stopped by another knock. “Cut it out you two or I’ll be a cockblocking bastard for weeks.”

“You already are one!” You yelled back.

Dean stumbled over his words trying to come up with a witty comeback.

You snickered at his struggle. “See I’m already getting used to it,” you told Sam.

Sam let you down and joined you in laughter. “I think Dean’s met his match.” He stretched out his hand for you to take. “C’mon the faster we eat, the faster we can finish what we started.”

You smiled, allowing Sam to lead you into the kitchen and undoubtedly an amazing future.

Tags: @titty-teetee @deansblackbeauty @deanscroissant @chonisberonica

#black!reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x black!reader #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction #spn #spn fandom #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fandom #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #frizzlewrites #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic

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67impalaandwhisky · 4 years

Text

Destiny Is Heaven Sent

Summary: Knowing Dean Winchester since you were fifteen, you’ve always been pulled in his direction. Always wanting to open up the rattled and broken cage your heart lives in. But when the child you’ve been raising together dies, you find yourself closing up the cage of your heart again. And if destiny has one thing for you, it’s to break you down before bringing you back up.

Characters: Dean x You, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, OFC’s, OMC’s, (Ongoing)

This Series Is Set Through Seasons 1-6 With Knowledge That The Bunker Exists

Rating: 18+

Warnings (Ongoing and Will Be Updated): Grieving, Mentions of Rape and Defilement (As Per A Case), Show Level Violence, Swearing, Smut, Impreg Kink, Blood, Fighting, Drinking, Dean Being Dean, Fluff, Angst, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader

Warnings For This Chapter: Sexual Dreams, Mentions of Pregnancy Kink,

Chapter 4.

"I'll take the couch." You grumble as all of you step into the motel room.

Dean takes off his shirt, his eyelids drooping with sleepy intentions as he throws himself onto his bed.

"Come lay down beside me." He mutters as he lays his head down on the pillow. He pats the spot beside him as he pulls back the covers.

Sam makes it a point to scurry off into the bathroom and you sigh gently.

Laying in bed with Dean last night was kind of amazing. You didn't have a single nightmare, which is rare these days after Marsh's death. And, you didn't wake up a single time during the night. Even when you drink heavily, you still find yourself waking up every so often during the late hours of the evening.

"Fine. Just don't touch me." You reply as you take off your combat boots.

"No promises, Candy girl." He mumbles as he closes his eyes.

Laying down beside you, he cages you against his chest throwing his arm over you as well as his leg. He lets out a tired chuckle but the comfort you feel is too great to tell him to get off.

In your lifetime with your two best friends by your side, you have gone on countless Djinn hunts together.

Comes with the territory of monster hunting.

Both you and Dean have been poisoned by a Djinn once or twice and even with the antidote around, those dreams can stick with you until you die.

Waking up from that dream-like state when you were twenty was disorienting and frightening. You didn't know what was real, what was fake. You cried for days on end when your life was dramatically different then what was pictured.

Now, when you do see those dreams again you adore them. You welcome them in your sleeping trance. Because in that dream, everything is perfect and so real enough that you don't look at the oddities.

Dean's Djinn dream was just as real, just as frightening at first and just as welcome in his sleep quite like yours.

"Marshall Maverick Winchester. Get that gun away from your brother at the dinner table please." You chide your oldest adopted son.

Turning his head toward you, Dean finds himself smiling. Placing a gentle kiss at your temple, he waltzes around you grabbing the dinner you've both prepared in the presence of your two sons.

"I wanna play!" Dean hears the youngest whine and he glances over at you as you flinch at the sharpness of his voice.

"Johnny Boy. Come on. Mommy doesn't feel good, stop yelling." Dean says as he places his hand on your growing stomach.

"But...But…" John whines as he holds his small hands up.

"No buts." Your husband cuts him off as he puts the burgers down on the table.

With a smile, you turn to your children with pie in hand. You were not as astonished as you should have been that they take after your husband with their favorite dessert choice.

"Is it lemon blueberry mommy?" John asks as he pulls his plate closer to his four year old body.

"Yes it is." You whisper playfully earning a warm smile from Dean.

As Dean begins to serve the food, Sam and Cas walk in with black sludge all over them.

"Oh good. Dinner." Sam cheers as he steps closer to the table.

"Nuh-uh. You better go wash up before you sit down at this table." You admonish your best friend as he frowns.

"But I don't eat." Cas counters as he takes off his mucky trenchcoat.

"Go shower before my pregnant wife smites you." Dean's voice booms through the dining room.

John and Marsh laugh with each other as Cas hangs his head before retreating to his room.

With a groan, you finally sit down at the table.

"Let me guess, your feet are swollen." Dean guesses as he sits down beside you at the head of the table.

"Bingo." You mumble as he puts a burger on your plate.

"I'll rub your feet later when we get ready for bed." He whispers in your ear, pulling back he sends you a devastating wink.

The smile you return is equally as heart shaking to him. His breath stutters and his heart rate picks up as he smiles back at you.

"Ma. He's going for pie." Marsh tells you as John leans across the table.

You fold your arms, eyebrow quipped upward as he gives a nervous giggle.

"Tattletale." He mumbles to his older brother before pulling at the pendant around his neck.

As John has been getting older, the necklace he's had on since birth has been getting tighter and tighter by the month.

His small hands go to take it off and his father is stopping him within a second.

"Don't you dare take this off, son. We've talked about this." Dean admonishes as John looks down at his plate.

"But it's tight and I feel stuffy." He mumbles as he picks up a french fry.

Marsh takes his larger necklace off before swapping and wrapping John's around his wrist twice before clasping it in place.

"We need to keep these on until we're old enough to get tattoos like mom, dad and Uncle Sammy." Marsh tells his younger brother as he grabs the ketchup.

It was heartwarming to watch, knowing that Marsh was just like Dean with John as he is with Sammy. He would always protect his younger brother no matter what.

It almost brings a tear to his father's eye as he picks up his bottle of beer.

"Why do you wear it?" Marsh inquires to his brother as he puts ketchup on his burger.

"So demons can't get me." John whispers.

The youngest only whispers about monsters in the night, as if speaking loudly will summon them to him.

"That's right. But when we're home, you don't have to be scared. Nothing is going to get you." Dean says before sipping his beer.

John nods before looking down at the pendant in his hand as he munches on his french fry.

"Leila in school says she has a crush on me." John says happily, forgetting the whole necklace debacle within seconds.

Dean's eyebrows flick upwards as he leans his elbows on the table.

"Oh yeah? Isn't it a little early to be dating in preschool?" Your husband jeers at your youngest as you giggle.

Your hand lands on your stomach, rubbing comforting circles which catches his attention immediately.

He looks over, a sweet smirk spreading on his face as he rubs your seven months and growing stomach.

"I'm four, dad. Practically grown up." You hum to him before grabbing your iced tea.

"You look just like your father so it's hard not to get all the girls, huh?" You tease as he smiles down to his burger.

John did look like the spitting image of your husband. From freckles to wildy enchanting green eyes, he was so alike.

"Will you tell us how you met again?" Marsh asks as he takes out his phone.

"No phones at dinner." Sam says as he enters the room.

Marsh looks up before rolling his eyes and putting his phone back in the front pocket of his jeans.

"What monster did you kill today?" John asks excitedly as Sam sits down.

Shaking his long hair out of his face, he looks over at both of his parents who refuse to meet his eyes.

"No monster talk at dinner." Sam says and your almost unrecognizable nod lets him know he's right.

John and Marsh frown as Cas comes in to join you all.

"It was a ghoul." Sam whispers as he leans over his plate towards the kids.

You look at Dean, a laugh shared between you both as you both roll your eyes.

Laying down in bed, you let out a gentle sigh as the bed comforts and molds to your body.

"Well now. Look what I have here all to myself. My two favorite girls." Dean says as he closes the bedroom door behind him.

You give a gentle laugh pushing yourself up the pillows as he stalks over.

"Not like you to forget Baby." You say, tilting your head as he pulls his t-shirt off.

"Just don't tell her. She'll get jealous." He teases as he takes off his pants.

Your eyes roam over his body before smiling wider.

When it comes to your husband, exhaustion was not a word that seemed to fit into your vocabulary. He was like a freshly brewed pot of coffee, deep, rich and awakening.

"My lips are sealed." You reply as he kneels on the bed.

With a chuckle, he parts your legs. Running his warm, calloused hands over your bare skin, his lips graze over your bare belly.

You can feel the stubble on his face, the short hairs tickling you as he gives languid kisses to the distended skin.

"De." You whisper in the dim lighting of the room.

He gives a gentle groan at your voice, hearing how you're becoming aroused and sluggish with lust.

"That's it, sweetheart. Focus on how I'm making you feel. How you want daddy's big cock to split you right open." His breath fans over your stomach as he talks to you, producing goosebumps on your now feverish skin.

"I want you so badly." You whine as he pulls down your bra. Your breasts heaving up at the action.

"God, you're so fucking sexy. So fucking mine." He growls out as he kisses over your chest.

"Pretty tits filling up with milk for my baby. Mine." His lips encircle your hard nipple, tongue flicking over the pointed bud earning a sweet moan from you.

His hand reaches for your clothed pussy, dying to feel how wet you already a-

"Dean."

"Hey! Dean!" Shooting up in bed, he looks to the owner of the voice as his eyes widen.

"Hey man…" Sam whispers as he stands above his older brother.

"Dammit Sammy. Couldn't you have given me five more minutes? I was experiencing something great." He mumbles as he grabs the cup of coffee from the younger man's hand.

"Busty girl dreams again? You were moaning." Sam says with a laugh as he walks over to the small table.

Dean clicks his teeth as he looks over the room. He notices how the sun is already rising high in the sky before looking down at you. Your hair is splayed over your face as you take deep shallow breaths.

Was there anything more perfect than his dream? Anything more wonderful than that? You, his wife, his life partner. Pregnant and barefoot in his bunker with other little ones running around. Marsh would still be alive.

Running a rough hand over his face, he sips his coffee before sighing.

As you turn onto your back, he takes in your form.

With your tank top rolled up to your breasts, he sucks in a deep breath before tugging down the shirt. God, you were too skinny now that he's looking at you. Why couldn't you just be pregnant like in his dream? Why did destiny have to fuck him like this?

"God fucking dammit." He mumbles as he wakes up.

"You okay?" Sam asks curiously.

"Peachy." Dean grunts out as he walks to the bathroom.

The slam of the door makes his younger brother jump and you stir from your sleep at the noise. The thin walls shake and tremor with the force of Dean's action and you sit up with squinted eyes.

"Morning." You whisper as you begin to stretch.

"Mornin'." Sam says as his eyes flicker to the bathroom.

"He okay?" You ask as you pull the covers closer to your body.

Sam gives the typical shrug as he sips his coffee before running his hands through his hair.

"Is Dean ever really okay?" He quips as you lay back down.

Now that is a question for the ages.

The morning had gone off without an ounce of weirdness which was odd to you considering how upset Dean was earlier.

He's so good at shoving things down inside of him until he explodes. It's scary sometimes.

"Come on out, Candy girl." Dean calls through the velvet curtain as you try to pull at any piece of fabric that's on your body.

You feel absolutely helpless. The tube dress you're wearing is so infinitely small, you're afraid one cough from yourself will send the fabric into a revealing position.

"It barely covers my ass!" You whine as you fix your hair in the mirror.

"You have a nice ass." Dean comments calmly.

There it is again. The short and somehow completely honest answer from your best friend. He doesn't flirt with you like he does with others because maybe he doesn't have to. He's so himself with you.

Tugging the dress up, the bottom reveals your black thong and you groan gently before pulling it back down.

"No laughing!" You cry out before taking a deep breath.

Just the thought of your older best friend seeing you like this sends your mind reeling.

Pushing back the velvet curtain, Sam looks up from his phone before snorting and covering his mouth with his hand.

"Yes. Ha. Ha. Very funny." You grumble as you put your hands protectively over your body as if that would help.

Glancing at Dean, he doesn't show an ounce of hilarity in the situation. He swallows thickly as his eyes trail over your body.

"You look like a sausage in a casing." Sam says before throwing his head back and laughing.

You snort before turning around to the mirror again.

The black fabric hugs your body tightly, showing your flat stomach and your ample breasts.

It's uncomfortable to be in but your thighs press together as you watch Dean through the mirror.

Licking his lips slowly, his eyes stare at your ass. Your stomach coils and flips as his evergreen eyes begin to harden over.

"Dean. What do you think?" Sam asks through his laughs.

Dean doesn't dignify him with an answer. Your eyes trail over his body, taking in the flannel beneath his jacket before looking to his pants.

His pants are strained and tented and you avert your eyes quickly in the mirror as you think about yesterday morning.

Is it hot in here?

"Dean?" Sam asks as he calms his laughter.

Pressing your thighs tighter together, the muscles of your ass become taut and flex. The oldest brother does everything in his power to rip his eyes away before turning to Sam.

"You look fine. Buy it and let's go." He mumbles as he sits down.

It's when you bend over to grab your stuff that he lolls his head back.

Do you know how fucking sexy you are? Do you have any idea just how goddamn attractive you can be?

Upon bending over he sees your thong and the outline of your pussy lips. His hand flies over Sam's eyes as you gather your stuff.

"Dude." His younger brother mumbles.

"Close the curtain, you idiot." Dean chides you and you gasp gently realizing what you've done.

Fiercely pulling the curtain closed, you can feel your ears and neck heating up to a healthy shade of red.

"I'm going to wait in the car." Dean calls out before storming off.

Sam tilts his head before rolling his eyes.

"Just fuck already." He mumbles under his breath before pulling his phone back out.

Dean stands beneath the shower head, letting the hot water soothe his taut muscles. His forehead presses to the chilly aqua tiles of the motel bathroom

God, you're probably out there in the room putting on that small dress right now.

It's astounding how hard he actually has to try to keep his hands off of you. Would you even want him to touch you?

Yesterday morning, he saw you checking him out. Peeking an eye open, he saw how breathless you were as your eyes roamed his body.

It's been drilled in his head ever since he was younger-- his father always wanted you both to be together. It's always been Dean's 'destiny' to have you as his own. And, that's exactly why he can't do it.

He's always listened to John. Always done as told and for once, he didn't want to abide.

Dean always thought that if he denied himself the pleasure of your company, he could stop a lot of heartache and pain on his end. But, now the heartache is starting to come from having you so far away from him.

He loved you from the minute he saw you. From the minute you met each other in that dingy motel on Christmas Eve.

He loved you when you were dating Michael Bracken during a random highschool stint in Wisconsin.

He always loved you. And, he always denied you.

Smacking his forehead into the wall, he sighs gently.

Maybe destiny is something you just can't run from. God knows that every path him and Sam have ever taken somehow and in some way lead back to the same spot they were standing years ago.

"De?" Your voice breaks him out of his deep thoughts.

"Yeah." He calls back as he shuts off the shower.

"We have to get going soon." You tell him as he grabs his towel.

"Yeah. I'm coming, Princess." The pet name tumbles out of his mouth and he closes his eyes as he wraps the towel around his waist.

You rip the door open and peek your head in before narrowing your eyes at him.

"You know I hate that." You mumble to him as the steam wafts through the open door.

You've hated it since high school. He used to call you Princess when he warded off boys in the cramped hallways. You always found it embarrassing.

Dean gives you a smile as he steps out of the shower, "Come on. You used to love the way I protected you."

Rolling your eyes, you stand up straighter as you lean against the door jamb, "No. You used to love the way you protected me. I didn't need protecting."

He chuckles as he wipes off the bathroom mirror.

"I'll always protect you, whether you need it or not." He says and you hum in agreement before leaving him alone.

"Always." He mumbles before looking through the mirror as you walk away.

Forever Dean Tags: @akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x you #dean x reader #spn family #spn book #spn fam #destiny is heaven sent

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years

Text

15x15: Gimme Shelter

Then:

Dean used his words to save the world once

Now:

At a food bank community center, three teens dole out food while stressing out about one attendant who’s breaking their cleanliness rules. Connor heads over to talk to the woman, but is stopped by the center’s pastor. The pastor challenges Connor’s motivation. ”We have rules, but we also have spirit too, right?” The pastor tells Connor to lead with compassion, so Connor brings the woman food instead of kicking her out of the building.

Later, Connor walks home. Much like all other cold open walks, this one also involves a solitary alley. He hears someone calling his name. Trying to find the source of the voice, he trips and finds a talking teddy bear, and a metal hook around his neck.

Dean and Sam discuss research. Sam’s found a non-case, while Dean’s hit the jackpot in Atlantic City. Specifically, an unexplained blackout has him thinking that Amara’s enjoying her new gambling addiction on the East Coast.

Cas pops up and thinks he should go with the brothers, but they tell him to stay put and babysit Jack. I say TFW is just better together, but I’m not writing this episode. Hrmph. The brothers are packed and ready to go, but Jack stops them in the war room to ask about the case Sam found.

Sam tells him it’s nothing. Dean encourages Cas and Jack to investigate --to keep Jack busy. Cas seems skeptical, but Dean insists.

Agents Swift and Lovato meet with the local law enforcement to learn more about the case. Sweet Jesus is it cute that Cas continues to use pop-star names. It’s cute that Jack takes after his father with the upside down badge. It’s cute that Jack recognizes the teddy bear and says he has one (Did Cas buy it for him? He has a history of buying stuffed animals for his quasi-children.)

The sheriff tells them about the victim, and how the word ‘Liar’ was carved into him.

Jack posits that this all seems demonic.

Cut to Cas digging into the ground at a crossroads. Time to get some information. Cas buries a picture of himself that Dean took when he was wearing a cowboy hat (Don’t worry, Dean still has his copy, and keeps it safe…. for reasons.) and Jack sets up a social media account. He’s WAY under 13 years old, so he needs a parent’s permission. Cas grants it easily. (Also, ALSO!! ALSO, there are NOT too many cats on the internet. This writing is so OOC, smh.)

A demon appears.

He’s channeling his inner Crowley, and I suddenly miss the bugger for a moment. Zach, the demon, is very bored and desperately wants something to do. He’s not really British and tells the duo that no one's making demon deals right now. Rowena’s of the philosophy that “people will end up where they belong.” Cas realizes their mistake and moves to leave. “Sam was right, it’s not a monster,” Jack laments. “He was half right. Sometimes humans can be the worst kind of monsters,” Cas adds.

At the community center, a woman locks up, and grabs a whole lotta cash from the donation box before she bails. Once outside, she hears a voice call her name. She looks around but sees nothing. She turns back to her car to find a masked individual. A weird editing choice cuts back to her...and commercial.

Cas checks in with the brothers. Dean tells Cas to be wary of those “Hallelujah types” and I’m like, wha? Cas is an ANGEL OF THE LORD. He’s been around the block, Dean. Lol for looking out for your BFF, tho. Also, second awkward moment of the episode when Dean just hangs up on Cas? I’m…

Sam voices his reservations about the whole finding Amara --lying to Amara --killing Amara plan. Say it louder for the brother in the seat next to you, Sam!

(Boris: I’m just going to insert this in the middle of this recap and never mention it again. Can we trust Billie? Is her plan actually something that is GOOD for our TFW 2.0? What is her agenda and does it align with what we want? What if what SHE wants is as equally bad as what Chuck wants? What if we as an audience are getting played right now??) (Natasha: What if the strings she’s pulling are emotional and she’s playing a dangerous game of chicken with Dean’s rage and Chuck’s entitlement?)

Jack joins the community center. He watches Dr. Sexy the pastor in a prayer circle, and talks to a disillusioned young woman who asks him to fill out a form before walking away.

Cas walks in separately and wanders over to Dr. Sexy the pastor praying with a parishioner, and tells him about the cash stealing Valerie. She never made it home.

Cut to Valerie tied and gagged. Her hands are in an elaborate guillotine. She wakes. Her screams are muffled. A TV turns on and flashes the word ‘Thief’. And one of her fingers gets chopped off. A timer starts on the TV. AND WE ALL RECOIL.

Jack finishes the paperwork and tries to talk to the girls working the food line. The one girl storms off, upset. Jack follows her and tells her that he didn’t mean to upset her.

She tells him that Connor and her dated. Well, they watched a lot of old movies together. (AHEM! AHEM! AHEM! “I’m your Huckleberry.” AHEM. Please stop the clowning, it hurts so much.)

Jack confesses to the girl that he lost his mother. The girl tells Jack that her mom died three years ago, and now it’s just her and her emotionally unavailable father, the pastor. “I have more dads than most, and I’m always just feeling like I’m letting all of them down.” JACK!!!! The girl tells Jack to trust God, not people.

And we laugh, and laugh, and, guh, laugh.

Cas, meanwhile, meets with Dr. Sexy the pastor.

Cas interrogates Dr. Sexy Pastor about whether anyone else has gone missing recently. Well, there was one guy who used to work for the “faith-based community” but they parted ways. Cas and the pastor enjoy a little god talk. Cas, the weary angel, opines that God just doesn’t care. The pastor has a different take on faith - it’s about the people of his church doing what they can to take care of each other. We learn that this church recently changed from a fundamentalist branch to something more welcoming. Connor was able to come out as gay due to the changes, so some good happened. (Hindsight thoughts: this makes his death and the “Liar” all the more awful.) “A saint is a sinner who keeps trying,” the pastor concludes...and if that ain’t the truth about Cas!

Sam and Dean are on the too-slow train to Atlantic City when Amara drops in during a gas stop and invites them out for pierogi.

At Patchwork, the pastor asks Jack to share his journey of faith during a prayer circle. Jack falters, and Cas steps in. “I do know what blind faith is. I used to just follow orders. Without question. And I did some pretty terrible things. I would never look beyond the plan. Then, of course, when it all came crashing down I found myself lost. I didn’t know what my purpose was anymore. And then one day something changed. Something amazing. I guess I found a family. And I became a father. And in that, I rediscovered my faith. I rediscovered who I am.” BRB crying!

Later in the cafeteria, Jack asks Sexy Pastor, M.D. how he brought together so many people with different ideas of religion. “It’s not about what they believe. It’s what they do,” he reiterates. (I imagine, for a moment, an ending where Jack calls out to the whole world and all living creatures and Heaven and Hell unite to win the final confrontation and make a better world together.)

The tranquil moment is interrupted by the TV turning on to security feed footage of the victim. The timer runs out and she loses another finger and screams and screams. Jack rushes over to the TV and pulls out a USB stick from the back.

Meanwhile, the Winchesters dine with Amara.

They bring up Chuck’s destruction of the other universes and tell her they have a plan to stop him. They’ve got a nephilim on their side AND he’s super powerful. All they need is for Amara to help them trap Chuck and...WHAMMO. Amara gently refuses to betray her brother. She lays some new mythology on them. She and Chuck are twins - creation and destruction - and their splitting apart first brought life into the world.

Cas and Jack barge into the church’s ex-AV tech’s room. And by that, I mean, Jack gets hurled through another door? Um. Okay. The part of me that grew up with 3 Stooges is HERE FOR IT, tbh.

They discover the guy is dead, chained up in bed with cuffs, with the word “lust” painted above him.

Getting ready to leave town, Sam’s ready to accept Amara’s choice. Dean “Fuck Acceptance” Winchester heads back inside and corners Amara. He asks why she brought back Mary.

Amara tells him that she wanted him to see that the apple pie dream life he’s always striving for isn’t real - that Mary was only human - and BETTER because of that. Amara thought that would help him to accept his life. Amara also thought that having Mary back would release Dean from his anger.

He leans forward and lets her know that he’s furious. Everyone in this universe is trapped, he tells her - including her. And she’s doing nothing. Amara falters in the face of this, and then asks him if she can trust him. “I would never hurt you,” he LIES TO HER FACE. She tells him she’ll think about it.

That evening Sylvia, the pastor’s daughter, listens to her friend gush over the social media attention she’s getting after posting about the torture video. In a flash of rage, Sylvia stabs her friend and races away. Dr. Sexy Pastor finds the current (still alive) victim just as Sylvia catches up to him. She accuses him of laughing at her mother after her mother died from trying to heal by prayer rather than medical science. She accuses him of changing the church that her mother grew up in. Jack jumps into the fray and gets stabbed for his trouble. When Cas arrives, Sylvia is quickly subdued by his Vulcan forehead tap of slumber.

Cas yanks away the restraints from the victim (SOOOO strong) and then heals her fingers back on while the pastor looks on in wonder.

For So Strong Science:

Later, they gather outside while Sylvia gets taken away in cuffs. The pastor still cares about his daughter and vows to get her help. The driver of the car is Zach the crossroads demon? Oookay.

Cas and Jack drive home. In the truck of feelings, Cas asks Jack why he couldn’t share during the prayer circle. Jack confesses that he’s been lying. The spell Billie is doing with him is turning him into a bomb to be used against Chuck and Amara. It’ll work - they’ll cease to exist. But Jack will be obliterated too. “This is the only way they’ll ever forgive me,” he tells Cas.

Cas is horrified. He can’t watch Jack die again! Cas refuses to watch Jack die again, but Jack seems to have fully embraced this as his necessary fate.

Back at the bunker, Dean heads for the whiskey bottle late at night when he spots Cas shuffling towards the exit. Jack’s settled in his room, Cas reports. Cas then tells Dean he’s going to look for “another way.”

Oh AND, “In case something goes wrong and I don’t make it back, there’s something you and Sam need to know…”

FADE. TO. BLACK.

The Se7en Deadly Quotes:

You guys go Highway to Heaven that bitch

You look greener than Baby Yoda

“Did anyone find any tiny bags with chicken bones inside?” “Did anyone smell sulfur?” “Did anyone feel cold?”

There were too many cats

Where can I find the Kool-Aid?

I wanted you to see that your mother was just a person

It was a gift, Dean. Not a trial

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #jack kline #spn 15x15 #gimme shelter #supernatural season 15

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supernatural-freek · 4 years

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Lost In Translation

Dean x Sister!Reader, Sam x Sister!Reader

Synopsis: Hi, I was wondering if you could do a story where the Winchester’s hunt a witch with Castiel and the reader. The witch does a spell that makes people speak their first language. Sam and Dean are freaking out because of Cas speaking Enochian. In the drive back to the bunker, Dean is yelling at the reader because she messed up. She hasn’t talked yet, and finally Sam has had enough and tells her to defend herself. She just restarts talking full blown German (they had no idea she was Germany please?

(Translations are done from a website, so if they’re incorrect please don’t come for me. Also, the sister is a half-sibling which is why they don’t know she’s German)

NOTE: Damn, I’ve been putting off writing some of these requests. I’m sorry about that. It’s real crappy of me. Hopefully I’ll get them all out quickly.

REQUESTED

MASTERLIST

The Impala purrs quietly, happily speeding down the open highway. She’s clean, Dean took the weekend to detail clean her with painstaking care, but the same can’t be said for her passengers. Blood is plastered to skin, clothes are matted and filthy.

Cas says something in that guttural language of his, throwing his hands up in frustration at the blank looks he gets in response. Sam sighs, risking a glance back at you. You’re quiet, head pressed against the window. He almost feels sorry for you.

“So,” Dean says, too casual to be anything but angry. Sam winces. “Y/N. Care to explain what the hell happened back there?”

You open your mouth, clearly think better of it, and remain silent. Cas says something else. Nobody understands a word of it.

“Dammit Cas,” Dean hisses, “nobody understands what you’re saying! Stop trying!”

Cas folds his arms and looks out the window, a petulant look on his face. Dean rolls his eyes. Sam inhales sharply. “Y/N,” he says, voice jarringly gentle compared to Dean’s harsh anger. “We just wanna know why you froze up like that. Dean needed you to kill the witch and you just stood there.”

Still you remain silent. Sam doesn’t understand how you can do it. You like arguing, like calling Dean names. Once, shortly after you’d first joined them, you’d punched Dean in the face after he told you to shut the fuck up. You like talking. You love being heard.

So why won’t you fucking talk?

“Maybe you need a break from hunting,” Sam suggest quietly and you stiffen, your vacant look sharpening into a glare. Sam sighs. “I don’t know what else to do, Y/N?”

“We can’t have you messing up like that again,” Dean says, and Sam bites down on his tongue so he doesn’t say something that will make this so much worse. “Dammit, Y/N, you could’ve gotten us killed!”

Cas spits something. Nobody bothers to pay attention to it. It’s not like any of you can understand Enochian.

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. Sam makes one last bid to get you to talk, if only to protect you from the fireball that Dean will become if nothing happens soon. “Y/N, please-”

“Halten Sie den Mund! Sie haben keine Ahnung, was ich denke oder fühle!”

That’s....not what anybody expected.

Sam jerks back at the foreign dialect, and the anger in your eyes is scorching. Cas settles back in the seat, chin raised and mouth twitching smugly. He mutters something under his breath and nudges you gently. You bat his arm away, but it’s a playful move, not a violent one.

Dean breaks the silence first. “What?”

“Mach die Ohren auf, Blödmann.”

“I don’t understand fucking Dwarfish.”

You scowl. “Fick dich, Dean.”

Sam inhales sharply, trying not to laugh at the offended look on his brother’s face. Neither of them know what you’re saying, but it’s not easy to miss that you’re being incredibly insulting and probably vulgar.

He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “I never knew German was your first language.” You duck your head slightly. Sam doesn’t seem to notice. “I mean, it had to be your mom, right? Dad never spoke German, and he wasn’t around enough to teach it to you consistently anyway, so it had to be your mom.”

“Sie hat mir eine Menge Dinge beigebracht,” you say. “Deutsch war die Sprache ihrer Familie, und sie wollte, dass es auch meine Sprache ist.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, “I have no idea what you just said.”

Cas chooses that moment to wave his hand, chattering excitedly in the rough language of the angels. He’s leaning forward and talking to Dean, who snarls at him and swerves rather dramatically to a halt on the side of the road.

“Castiel!” Dean snaps, turning around to face his angel. “I don’t know what you’re fucking saying-”

Cas erupts into light.

Sam swears and Dean yelps, but you make no sound as you shy away from the sudden brightness. It’s hot enough to burn, but it’s over too quickly for any damage to be done. When Cas gradually eases back into dim existence, you and the boys are panting.

“I said,” Cas harrumphs with a sharp look at Dean, “that I figured out how to break the curse.”

“So you did,” says Dean, who doesn’t like to admit that he’d wrong.

Sam and Cas share an exasperated look before Sam’s turning to you expectantly. “Y/N?”

“Ihr Haar lässt Sie wie Jesus aussehen,” you say, just to be difficult.

Dean groans. “In English, please?”

You pause, grinning with entirely too many teeth. “I said if you don’t buy me a frappe on the way to the Bunker, I’m going to cut your dick off.”

Dean skids the tires on the car when he takes off.

#supernatural dean #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural sam #supernatural one shot #supernatural imagine #Supernatural-Freek #request

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rizlowwritessortof · 3 years

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The Shadow’s Edge

“A true shadow is not made by darkness, but of light.” - Gabriel Swann

Sequel to Never Look Back. When the demon Dameon was killed, Dean and Beth thought their son was safe from the prophecy. But when Cas brings them news of the new battle for Hell, they realize that their war has just begun.

Dean stood in the doorway, quietly watching Beth as she stirred, tasted and seasoned at the stove. She moved to the counter, picking up a knife and humming a tune softly to herself as she chopped an onion. Her hair, twisted quickly into a messy bundle and clipped, had several tendrils loose, curling invitingly on her neck as she bent over her work. She impatiently pulled the shoulder of her sweater up where it repeatedly tried to slide down over her shoulder, continuing to chop the vegetables laying on the counter.

Dean walked silently up behind her in his stocking feet, putting his hands on her upper arms and bending to kiss her neck, nibbling a bit as he moved across her nape, and then pushing the offending sweater off her shoulder as he continued that direction. "Dean,“ she breathed as his arm slid around her waist, pulling her close as his lips explored the soft skin. "Dean, I’m trying to cook,” she protested weakly, and a low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“Trying is the operative word here, Coop,” he whispered into her ear, sending goosebumps over her flesh. He moved his hands down to her hips, pulling her tight against him. "Why don’t you take a break.“

"Baby, Sam could walk in at any moment.”

“Sam just left to go to town. Bobby’s gone until this weekend. And BJ is sleeping.” He pushed himself up against her, and she laid her head back on his shoulder as he nipped at the side of her throat. "You smell so good,“ he murmured, and she laughed quietly.

"I probably smell like onions and celery,” she said, catching her breath as his hand roamed underneath her sweater, his hand brushing over her skin.

The plaintive cry of an infant pierced the air, and Dean moaned audibly. "Oh, man…“ He kissed her neck in the spot he knew drove her the most crazy, sucking on it gently and touching his tongue to her as she sighed softly, and then he straightened, reluctantly moving away from her and heading to the sink to wash his hands. "To be continued,” he said as he headed out of the kitchen, and she smiled as she heard his voice, speaking to the baby. "Little man, you and dad are gonna have to talk.“

Beth stirred the vegetables into the soup simmering on the stove and moved quietly to the doorway, watching Dean change BJ’s diaper, talking to him the whole time as if he were just another guy. "Dude, you have to be more considerate. See, when you grow up, you’re gonna have… Well, big guys just need time, you know, with their women, and Daddy needs time with Mommy. It’s just the way it is, little man. If you could take longer naps, say, a half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes, that would be perfect.” He smiled down at his six-month-old son, and Beth watched as the baby smiled brightly up at his father. "Best looking kid on the planet, bar none, BJ. I’m tellin’ you.“ Beth was smiling as she turned and walked quietly back to the stove, giving the soup another stir and adding a few more seasonings.

Dean sat on the couch in the living room for a time, playing with BJ on his lap, until the child puckered up and began to fuss. "Hungry? I bet you are. Let’s go see your mom and get you some grub, okay?” He stood up with the baby in his arms, walking towards the kitchen. "Hey, Mommy, you’ve got a hungry man here. Can we…“ He stopped as he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes widening and turned back to the living room quickly, carrying BJ back to his crib and laying him down, to his loud displeasure. "I’ll be right back, little man,” he said, rushing back to the kitchen where Beth lay on the floor, unconscious.

Beth woke with Dean’s hand on her face, gently stroking her cheek as he sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, his arms cradling her as he spoke softly.

"Coop, come on, wake up, please.“ Her eyes opened reluctantly, gradually focusing on the worried face of the man she loved. "Beth, are you okay? Can you talk?”

She squeezed her eyes closed tightly for a moment, then opened them again, trying to remember what had happened. Then, suddenly, they flew open wide, and she fought to sit up as Dean held on, trying to soothe her.

“Beth, you’re okay,” Sam said, standing above her, BJ in his arms busily working on a bottle. "Dean’s got you, we’re right here. Just take a breath, calm down and tell us what happened, midget.“

She turned her face into Dean’s chest, putting her arms around his neck, and he tightened his hold on her, whispering in her ear. "I’ve got you, baby. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” Beth shivered a little, then took a deep breath and sat up, pulling gently away from Dean’s grasp.

“I thought you went into town,” she said, glancing up at Sam.

“I did. But Dean called me and told me to get my ass back here, so I did.” He held BJ easily in one arm, reaching down a hand for her to grasp as she stood. Dean rose to his feet behind her, and she turned into his arms, hugging him tight for a moment.

Beth stepped back a little, her hands still in Dean’s. "I’m okay, Dean. It was just… It was another angel visit. But it was Cas.“

Dean’s face darkened, his brow furrowing. "Cas? Cas did this to you?” He took her arm, leading her to a chair, then sitting down beside her as Sam joined them on the opposite side of the table. "He’s got some explaining to do.“ There was a quiet threat in his voice, and Beth put a hand on his arm, looking up at him as his jaw worked angrily.

"Dean, please listen. You know we have the house warded against angels. This…vision thing, he said that or dreams were the only ways he could contact me. I don’t get out much with the baby, and he felt he needed to warn me.”

“Why didn’t he contact me, or Sam? He didn’t need to do this to you, Beth. I am gonna talk to him.” He put a gentle hand up to Beth’s face, his expression softening. "At least it wasn’t Samael.“

Beth shuddered. "Cas said there’s a war going on for Hell. Which we knew would happen after you killed Damion. But apparently there have been some whispers about BJ again. I don’t know if they’re still afraid, or if they think he would give them leverage over you two. I guess I wasn’t taking him seriously enough, because he changed to his true form, which is why I was on the floor.” She looked into Dean’s worried green eyes. "You were right when you told me he could be terrifying.“

"Yeah, well, he had no reason to put you through it. It had better not happen again, and I will tell him that.” Dean’s tone left no doubt that an argument about the subject would be futile, so Beth didn’t try. He leaned to kiss her, then stood and headed for the door.

“Dean. Go easy, we don’t know what’s going on with Cas,” Sam warned his brother quietly. Dean looked back at him, then continued on his way outside. He walked into the middle of the yard, fists clenched at his sides, fear and anger roiling inside him. Once again he heard himself, younger, preaching to Sam about not getting involved, that it didn’t work for hunters. And how many times did people get hurt or killed, just from being around them, let alone personally involved with them. Beth had been hurt, almost killed, several times, and BJ was threatened before he was out of the womb, all due to their connections with him. He ground his teeth in frustration, and tried to reign in his emotions as he called for Cas.

“Dean.”

He turned to see Cas standing stoically before him. "Cas. What the hell, man? Why did you do that to Beth? Why didn’t you just wait until I was out of the house and talk to me?“ He was trying to keep his cool, but it wasn’t easy. Cas looked back at him, his blue eyes emotionless.

"Because I didn’t know if I could trust you to tell her the truth. You tend to try and hide things, Dean. She needed to know. She and the infant are both in danger, and I don’t know if they are afraid of them, or if they want to use them against you and Sam. She had to know.”

“Since when do you decide what I need to tell my family, Cas?”

“Since I knew exactly what you’d do, Dean. I have Heaven’s authority behind me, so don’t presume to tell me how to do my job.” The angel’s eyes were glowing just a bit, and Dean clamped his jaw shut.

“Fine. I get it. But Cas, please, I’m asking you, just talk to me, or come to us outside, and we’ll bring her out so you can talk in person. Please, man.” Cas stared back silently for a moment, then finally nodded slowly. "And Cas–appearing to her in your real form, was that really necessary? Come on!“

"It was necessary. She needed to know the seriousness of the situation, and she has grown too comfortable here with you, she has lost her fear. You make her feel too safe, Dean. She’s not safe. Do you understand? She and the baby are not safe.”

“All right, I get it. They’re in danger. She gets it too. Is that all you can tell us, Cas? Do you even know what’s going on?”

“Not yet. But I will let you know if we have any more information that could help.” Cas turned away, taking a step as he prepared to leave, but turned back once more. "Dean, I am sorry if I frightened Beth. That was not my original intention.“ Then, with a sound of rushing wind, he was gone.

He went back into the house, walking into the living room where Sam sat on the couch watching a basketball game on the old television. BJ was asleep again in his crib, and Dean looked at his brother, who nodded towards the stairs. He headed that direction, climbing the stairs and walking into their bedroom, where Beth sat folding laundry on their bed. "Hey,” he said softly, and she smiled up at him.

“Hey. How did your little talk go?”

He pushed aside the pile of clean clothes and sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms. "As well as it could, I guess. Cas says you and BJ are in danger. But you know that already.“ She looked up at him, her soft brown eyes searching, and he sighed. "And he came to you because he didn’t think I’d tell you if he came to me. I told him he didn’t need to show you his true form, but he said it was necessary. That you feel too safe here with me, and you’ve lost your fear.”

Beth reached to smooth the frown lines from his brow. "I do feel safe with you. If something comes for me, I know you’ll be right behind them. And if they come after your son, God have mercy on them.“

"If they touch either one of you, God won’t have anything left to have mercy on, Beth. That’s a promise.” Beth’s hand gently stroked along his tense jaw line, and he bent his head to kiss her. Her lips opened beneath his, and he pulled her closer, his tongue slipping in to tangle with hers as he laid them back onto the bed. He kissed her, his fingers buried in her hair, for a few minutes, and then he pulled back, looking down at her. "I mean it, Coop. I’ll do what I have to do to protect you and BJ. Whatever I have to do.“ His hand was brushing her hair back from her face gently as he spoke, and she touched his face, running her fingertip along his bottom lip.

"I know you will, Dean.” The heat in his eyes silenced her, followed by his lips claiming hers again, and there was no further need for words.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

#the shadow's edge #sequel to never look back #dean fic #dean x beth #dean x oc #reblog to fix tag links

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banshee1013 · 4 years

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Suptober Day 22 - But I Know That I Love You So

Well, this is it - the last one I managed to finish both art and fic for during the month of October, and it’s at a pretty good stopping point. There are 2 others where the fic is done but not the art, and two additional ones in the planning stages, all which will be released when they’re done. The Masterpost will be published tomorrow, and then updated with AO3 tags as they’re posted there.

Please forgive this last one - I’m still learning to draw people and not that great at it. That’s why there were so many inanimate objects, still life, and hands HAHA. Something to get better at for next year!

So, I hope you enjoy this last installment! Thanks again to @winchester-reload for hosting this challenge again, and I look forward to having the time now to check out everyone else’s amazing work! You’re ALL ROCK STARS.

Overall Title: The Road Less Traveled

Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, we’ll see how it goes)

Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!)

========================================================

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - BUT I KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU SO

Words: 1797

“Baby, we need to talk,”

Dean’s eyes bore into his, earnest, wide with concern and not a small amount of fear.

A small thread of worry wormed its way around his heart from that statement, the look in his eyes. But the increasing amount of shivering he feels through their clasped hands is far more of a problem at the moment.

“Yes, of course… but Dean, you’re shivering.” He gently disengages a hand from Dean’s, using the other to pull him towards the bathroom and the shower there.

“Cas, I… “ Dean starts but cuts himself off as Cas pulls the shower door back to turn on the water. “W-what’s g-g-going on?”

Cas pivots back to Dean, quickly stripping him of his wet clothes, Dean’s shivering increasing. The clothes are tossed in the corner, and he turns again to check the temperature of the water, which is starting to steam up the mirror over the sink. Turning it down a little so as to not scald him, he urges Dean into the shower.

“You need to warm up or you’ll catch a cold,” Castiel says, gently pushing him under the spray, and begins to close the shower door when Dean’s hand grasps his wrist.

“Cas, g-get in h-here with me, you’re w-w-wet too.”

Dean does have a point, Castiel notices, looking down at his own dripping clothes beginning to form a pool of water beneath him, his own shivers amplifying. He eyes the tiny tub, the showerhead just barely reaching the back of Dean’s neck and a mere few feet of room left. “The shower is too small for both of us.” He does begin to remove his sodden clothing, however, tossing it in the corner of the bathroom to join Dean’s. He’ll have to hang them up after their showers in hopes they’ll be dry enough to pack in the morning. “The steam from the shower will warm me.” He closes the bathroom door to trap even more of the warmth.

But Dean is nothing if not persistent. “Cas, c’mon, we’ll make it work.” The shower is having its desired effect, at least, as his voice is no longer shaking. The insistent tone gives way to one more pleading. “Please, Cas? I need to talk to you.”

Castiel cannot deny him anything, especially when said in that tone of voice. He acquiesces, climbing into the shower, and is immediately pulled under the spray and into Dean’s arms.

“There, much better, am I right?”

It’s very hard to deny, the warmth of the water and Dean’s proximity chasing away his own shivering. He ducks to allow the water to run over his head, warming him fully before spinning Dean carefully around, urging his head under the water as well.

Dean sputters, pulling his head out from under the water. “Okay, okay, I’m good now.” He brushes the excess water from his face, then places a palm on Castiel’s shoulder, the other cupping his jaw, lifting his face to meet Dean’s eyes. The hint of concern is back, and the thread of worry around his heart pulls taut.

“Cas, we need to…” he pauses, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I need to talk to you about what I asked you the other day.”

The thread of worry snaps and Castiel’s heart plummets into the pit forming in his stomach.

This is where his worst fears come true - where Dean confirms it was a mistake, that he didn’t mean to say those words, to ask that question. He pulls his gaze away from Dean’s, staring at the wall over his shoulder.

At least any dampness that may appear on his cheeks can be explained away by the condensation from the shower.

“I.. I understand, Dean. It’s quite alright,” he hears himself say, as from a great distance.

“No... no Cas, you don’t.” Dean’s voice all but vibrates with apprehension - of course; Dean does care for him, and he’s a kind person, not one to willingly inflict harm - “I meant every word.”

Castiel blinks rapidly, not trusting his hearing. “Excuse me?” His eyes fall back on Dean’s, searching.

Dean’s eyes are open and honest, but he sighs morosely. “I meant every word… but God, how I wish it hadn’t come out like that.” He gives him a wan smile, his eyes falling away. “That was such a lame way to ask you.”

Castiel’s head tilts in confusion. “I’m.. not sure what you mean?”

Dean’s head is still lowered, but Castiel can still see the flush spreading across his cheeks, the embarrassment in his voice. “It should have been so much better… on my knees, presenting a ring… something other than just... “ He pauses with a sigh, his shoulders shrugging.

Castiel’s heart sprouts wings and soars, out of the pit of his stomach directly into his throat, where he has to choke out the words around it, fingers tilting Dean’s chin up to look into those beautiful green eyes he loves so much. “Dean, no. it was honest and perfect.”

Those green eyes, dark with dread, begin to lighten. “But… you haven’t said anything since then…”

It was Castiel’s turn to look down, ashamed. “I was afraid to mention it… for fear it was an accident.” He swallows, hard. “I wanted to keep on believing it was true for as long as possible.”

Dean’s bright laughter startles him, and he jerks his head up in alarm. Dean’s eyes are dancing, lips spread in a grin full of delight. “Boy, we are just a couple of dumbasses, aren’t we?” Before Castiel can agree, Dean is on him, pressing him into the wall of the shower with a crushing, urgent kiss.

A sound bubbles up in Castiel’s chest and escapes around Dean’s lips on his own - a small sob of relief and gratitude. His hands scrabble at Dean’s shoulders, attempting to gain further purchase there, to bring him even closer.

Dean breaks the kiss and his head falls to Castiel’s shoulder, where soon he feels dampness there, warmer than the cooling shower water pouring on them. He gently pulls Dean’s head up to look into his face.

Dean’s eyes glow in the fluorescent light, bright with unshed tears. His hands capture the sides of Castiel’s face, thumbs sweeping gently over his cheeks.

“God, I love you so much, Cas,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. Then he shivers as the rest of the hot water runs out, the temperature dropping rapidly. “C’mon, we’re gonna freeze again.” His hand drops from Castiel’s face to his hand, spinning around to turn off the shower water and open the shower door to retrieve towels from the rack above the toilet, handing one to Castiel.

It becomes quickly apparent that the shower is far too small for both of them to be able to dry off there, so with an exaggerated shiver, Dean hops out of the shower and begins to rapidly dry off, Castiel following suit within the shower tub. When they’re both dry, Dean offers his hand to Castiel, drawing him out of the shower and into the room proper. He makes his way to the duffle bag by the door and fetches out two pairs of sweats, stepping into one pair before helping Castiel into the other. He then snatches the Impala keys from the nightstand and turns for the door.

“I’ll be right back. I have an idea.” He opens the door and darts out into the rain.

Castiel sighs and heads to fetch another towel from the bathroom.

The door bursts back open, an only slightly damp Dean re-entering with something clutched in his clenched fist. He closes the door behind him and approaches Castiel with firm footsteps.

His hand opens and Castiel sees a ring there, hanging on a chain. “Is that… is that the ring you used to wear?” Castiel squints at the ring, beat up and scratched from all the beer bottle caps scraped against it.

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I stopped wearing it a long time ago… it was the apocalypse and all, and I didn’t want to lose it, so I wore it around my neck for a bit, but it kept popping up and smacking me in the teeth whenever I bent over, so I put it in the glove box.” Dean’s eyes take on a far-away look, a sad smile on his face. “It was originally Mom’s - Dad gave it to her as a sorta promise ring when they first started dating, and of course she stopped wearing it when he got her a proper engagement ring.” He pries open the clasp of the necklace laced through it, his hands shaking, and pulls the ring free from it.

Castiel’s breath catches as Dean falls to his knees in front of him for the second time this day, the ring presented to him, pinched between Dean’s thumb and forefinger.

“Cas,” the words coming so softly Castiel has trouble hearing them over the pounding of the rain on the roof of the motel. “Castiel,” Dean repeats, his voice strengthening with conviction, his eyes cast upwards, hope and love shining in them.

“Will you make me the happiest guy alive and marry me?”

Castiel’s shaking knees give out and he falls to his knees in front of Dean, leaning forward to kiss him, wild and breathless.

“Yes,” he says, kissing his forehead.

“Yes,” he says again, kissing his eyelid, and “yes” again when kissing the other.

Dean is laughing now, the sound filling the room with joy as Castiel continues to kiss him many more times, punctuating each with a heartfelt “Yes.”

Dean finally stops him, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Okay, I get it, I get it!” He grabs Castiel’s hand. “Can I put this damned thing on you now before I just drop it and ravish you?”

Castiel nods, his voice flown away with his heart, and Dean slips the ring on his finger.

Dean holds Castiel’s hand for a second longer, tilting it back and forth as the ring catches the light and bounces reflections around the room.

“Thank you, Cas,” he whispers, then raises Castiel’s hand to his lips, kissing the ring there.

Castiel’s other hand raises to Dean’s face, tilting his head up.

“I felt the coldness of my winter, I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us, but I know that I love you so.”

Dean’s eyes squint. “Did you just quote ‘The Rain Song’ to me?”

Castiel smiles, remembering the first time he heard the song on the cassette Dean had made for him.

“You quoted it to me first.”

They fall silent, content, and listen as the rain continues to fall, pattering on the roof.

#suptober20 #day22 #Destiel #art #fic

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daisydaisybilly · 4 years

Text

one normal day

Pairing: Adam x sister!Reader (with a little cas x reader but you can read it whatever way you like) Summary: Adam wants y/n to have one normal day. not trusting Adam Cas tags along Warnings: swearing, fluff, and not much else Word Count: 1.4k A/N: first i hope you like this and im sorry it took me a while to post. started it right away but something came up and i've only recent got back to my writing, and the new episodes really didn’t help 😅 been edited twice but might of missed something, thank you dyslexia

requested by @ivyyie: ok, I always thought of something like that, Sam and Dean have a little sister, and when Adam shows up, he wants to take the reader out for a walk so she can be a normal teenager for at least a day, Sam and Dean allow, but Cas asks to go along, since he doesn't trust Adam and wants to protect Reader.

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN

“no. no way. Not gonna happen” Cas huffed with his chest out, with his hands on his hips.

“I don’t need your permission to spend time with my sister” Adam tried to argue back.

“No” Cas stopped speaking when you walked into the hotel room.

You looked up from the lore book in your hands and over to Adam and Cas who were both red in the face then to Sam and Dean in the middle trying their best to calm them down. You raised an eyebrow at them, “What you guys fighting about?”, you put the book down on the table. “well?” you asked again when no one spoke.

“ehhh, Adam wanted to take your out for the day” Sam said awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“like a hunt” you tilted your head to the side, “don’t think that’s a good idea”.

Adam pushed away from Cas giving him the side eye, Dean and Sam stayed where they were but Cas stepped closer too, “No like a normal day. We can do anything you want”. You mouth formed an o space as you understood what he meant. You turned to Sam and Dean for guidance.

“no issues here go have some fun, you deserve some” Dean smiled sitting down.

“really?” Cas said loudly, you looked at him shocked not used to hearing him yell. “I know he’s your brother but we can’t trust him” he said in a hush tone, “I’m just looking out for you” he put his hand on your arm.

“Cas” you sight blushing his hand away, “look I love you for looking out for me but I can look after myself and anyway have you seen him? I could floor him in a second” you heard Dean and sam snigger from across the room. “no offence” you nodded to Adam.

“is that a yes?” he asked looking at Cas.

Cas rolled his eyes in your direction and nodded his head. You sent him a smile and went to grab your coat. “one condition” you stopped to look at him. “I join you two”.

You stared at him and scoffed, “Fine if I helps you sleep at night”.

“I don’t sleep”

“I know, I know. Its just a saying” you shook your head, “Come on then, I hear the fair is in town”.

You had to practical beg Cas to watch you from a distance when you got to the fair, he wasn’t happy about it but did it in the end to make you happy.

At the fair you felt a little overwhelmed, sure you’d heard about fairs and what happened at them but actually being dead in the centre of one was strange. You looked around at all the other people having fun who knew what to do, you looked at Adam who looked in place too.

“so?” you strung out getting Adam’s attention, “what should we do first?”.

“Well which booth is your favourite?” Adam asked. Your face heated up at his question so you looked away embarrassed. “oh. You haven’t been to one before” he realised.

“well never really had the chance” you muttered, “its always the end of the world for us” you waved your hand in the air. You huffed “I mean look I have an angel following me around. I’m not normal” you pointed back to where Cas was intensely watching.

He cleared his throat and nodded to a booth, “well dad and my mom used to take me every year and we always did the gun one”.

Adam lend the way over to the stall where the back wall was covered in little red boxes with small metal people inside. “okay so you get bb bullets and you need to shoot 5 ‘people’ to win a prize”.

“sounds simple” you nodded.

“I’ll show you then you try” Adam smiled.

When Adam shoot his first shot you felt Cas behind you, “do you think he knows I can shot a gun better than him?” you questioned over your shoulder. Cas snicked when Adam nearly hit the man behind the booth. “hey, give me a go”.

Adam handed you the ‘gun’, you shifted the gun from one hand to the other getting used to the weight. The real gun in your jeans pocket was heavier by far and could shot better. But you relaxed your shoulders and got into the right prostitution, you lined the gun up and fired 5 perfect shots.

You beamed over to Adam and Cas. Adam looked a little shocked while Cas just grinned at you. When the man at the stall handed you the biggest prize, he had you skipped over to the boys. “Now that was fun”.

“Maybe we should give the booths a break” Adam suggested after you handed him a 2nd teddy.

You turned to face him holding another teddy and over to Cas who held 2 other prizes of his own, “yeah probably” you shrugged, “getting boring winning anyway”.

Adam smiled looking down.

“What else should we do?” you asked biting your lip.

“well since you cleared out all the booths, we could try some rides” he pointed to the big wheel, the best he could with his arms full.

You nodded excited, you let Adam walked ahead so you could talk with Cas. “You think you could cut him some slack, please for me” you pleaded.

Cas studied you not saying anything at first, he squinted his eyes at you. “I suppose I can leave you alone for 15 minutes”, you wrapped your arms around him but the teddies in his and your own arms got in the way. You settled with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks Cas, I can always count on you” you grinned. Cas watched you go with smile on his face.

“is he not following along” Adam asked.

You shook your head at him and laughed, “He just worries” you jumped up and down on the heels of your feet next to him, “and he promised he’d give us some alone time”.

He looked unsure and glanced back over to Cas who was still stood where you had left him, “That easy?”.

You smiled and laughed, “He means well Adam, he been through a lot with us. I don’t blame him for worrying”.

Adam looked sad for a moment, you looked at him confused. “You shouldn’t have gone through anything that involves angels and god knows what else, Sam and Dean neither”.

You laughed dryly, “it wasn’t so bad” you shrugged. He face stayed serious, you started to feel uncomfortable, you laughed again and elbowed him, “Stop, we’re here to have fun, right?”.

He nodded and did his best to laughed making you smile. “you right and look its our turn next” he pointed to the line at had gotten shorter.

Near the end of the evening Cas either trusted Adam or knew you would be okay enough to keep at a further distance. You had to admit it was nice to be ‘normal’ for one day, no looking over your shoulder, no hunting down whatever monster was terrorising people and having fun for what felt like the first time in years. You felt bad when you thought of it that way, you thought that if Dean or Sam heard you they’d be hurt but you knew they just wanted what’s best for you, like you did for them.

You lent against the motel door with a grin across your face, clutching all your prizes and the cotton candy you brought for the guys. “Thanks for today Adam”.

He stood a little away from you with his hands in his pockets. “you know I thought you would say no at first”.

You laughed cocking your head to the side, “Why?”.

“I don’t know, thought you’d think it was a stupid idea”.

“well I had a great day and you were right, it was nice being normal for once”, you put your things on the floor and walked over to Adam. He watched you move looking unsure the whole time, you pulled him into a hug before he could talk. He stayed still in shock, it took me a few seconds before he responded with back.

“when you’re in town, we should do it again” he suggested when you pulled away.

you smiled and nodded, “maybe the others could tag along too”.

“yeah! Maybe Castiel will be more relaxed then” he laughed.

You laughed too while you gathered your things from the floor and turned back to Adam, “I mean it, thank you”.

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural imagine #supernatural #adam winchester #adam winchester x reader #adam winchester x sister reader #adam x reader #adam winchester fluff #adam winchester fanfiction #adam winchester imagine

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eternalstrigoii · 4 years

Text

Unfettered -- I

A revamp-sequel to Caged Borra (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) x Forest Dark Fey Reader; Maleficent x Diaval; Conall x Jungle Dark Fey; General Percival x Shrike; Philip x Aurora; King John is Everyone’s Dad (reprise)

“No, no, no! Please, please, please!”

Your flesh burned. Your flesh had been burning for weeks. Your blood was like molasses baked to fired stone on the floor of your cage. The thick, iron band around your neck welled more to the surface. Your senses should have been dulled to it, but they weren’t. Iron cuffs around your wrists kept you locked in place while white-faced iron men forcibly extended your broken wings.

The pain ricocheted through you. The queen watched impassively as you screamed. One snap. Your wing muscles violently recoiled. Two snaps in a different place. No, no, no, not more breaking, they already hurt so much!

“Don’t forget the little ones.” Her voice was cold.

Tears ran down your face. Dripped to sizzle on the oven-hot floor. You couldn’t move anymore, your pain was so great. Still, they pulled your wing taut, and something was jabbed through the bars. Once. Twice. Harder. The fragile little bones between muscles and membranes broke without a sound, and you were crying. You didn’t even struggle. What could you do? Where could you go? Ingrith had you. She would kill you.

And he was right.

You awoke with a gasp, startled right out of sleep. A bonfire still roared beyond the confines of your nest, and you crawled toward it habitually.

Some part of you still expected to find your father sitting by it when you emerged, drinking herb water from stone cups long after Udo and the fledglings had gone to bed.

But you were not in the nest, or in its forest; you were on the moors, and Ini was the one awake, pouring over the roughly drawn diagrams you’d all put together during dinner. Ulstead, the Midlands, Perceforest. The end of their borders were the end of your guaranteed safety, as though your safety was guaranteed anyway.

“Where is he?” you asked, and you hated that it was the first thing out of your mouth.

“Patrolling.” She was so casual about it, as though they hadn’t tried to kill him just a handful of weeks ago. “He still doesn’t trust them.”

“He shouldn’t.”

You were trembling, not that you realized. You crawled over a log and rested your half-limp wings against it, as though the warmth of the fire would be all it took to erase the panic from your chest, the excruciating phantom pains that lingered still.

“You sleep worse than he does,” she commented, barely looking up. “And he’s been to war.”

He wasn’t tortured, you wanted to reply, but you didn’t. You had nightmares about that, too – violent nightmares where they made him watch. You knew he’d fight, you knew he’d do everything in his power to keep you safe, and that would be why they killed him in front of you – why the queen would’ve had you unbound so you could hold him in your arms while he choked on his own blood with an iron bolt in his heart.

Oh, skies, you shook. Now the tears were inevitable. You were like a child, waking up sobbing at the first thought of violence against you – as though it could be undone.

Papers rustled as Ini put them aside, tucked carefully away from the fire. She came to join you, wrapped her arms and her wings around you. “Oh, Cassia…”

“I need him,” you whispered, and for once, it wasn’t Borra in your thoughts. You needed Conall to guide you. To be there, to soothe you, to press his head with yours and smile softly and sing to you like your mother had when she was alive and the sob that ripped out of you was guttural and wild and it made Ini press you close against her like a child, her palm flat against your cheek as she rocked you, tucked close into her side.

What’s the matter? Papa didn’t kiss it better? Your brother used to sneer when your emotions overtook you, and your father never hesitated to sweep in, gather you on his hip and remove you from the situation completely. I would rather you know you can depend on me than let you struggle when you shouldn’t.

He had been so close to you when he died. Nearly there. Over the trees and across the river. You never wanted them to find you, they would’ve been killed, but that didn’t ease your pain when you thought about how close to him you were – how nearly you’d been able to see him, see them both. Tell them goodbye.

“He was looking for you,” Ini murmured into your hair, “the night she plunged into the sea. He never stopped looking for you, Cas. Neither did Borra.”

That was exactly what shouldn’t have been said. You screamed into your forearms like a fresh-set scab had been ripped off an infected wound. You hadn’t done much crying in Ulstead. Now, free of suspicion, home with your family where you belonged, grief consumed you.

So close and so far and so near but no longer.

Your crying woke Shrike. You heard her grumble, her nest rustle. She padded out to join you both near the fire, put her strong wings around you. “Calm.” She rubbed firm circles into your back. “What is it, another nightmare?”

“Another memory,” Ini replied, squeezing your arms. “It’s hard not to have Conall to turn to when we need him.”

You never thought anything could be worse than the queen’s guard snapping your hollow bones again and again. Not the pain in your immobile wings afterward, the pieces of bone embedded in your muscle, the severed tendons poorly healed, or the fact that you could no longer fly on your own.

But awakening with the child version of you still alive and seeking the comfort of your now-dead father, that was worse.

That was so much worse.

You wished you’d died there, in the castle. You wished the only thing that had been left for them to find was your body, if Ingrith hadn’t destroyed it first. They broke you so thoroughly that you would never be repaired and that still hadn’t been enough, and you wished that if they hadn’t, that you had been able to die fighting.

Grief consumed you.

Shrike had plumage like your mother. Tired as she was, grumpy as she could be, she was the one who took you back to bed and laid down beside you. She folded you in her wings, drew yours close to you, and groomed spots of them gently.

“There’s snow in the mountains,” she sang to you in her rough, pleasant voice, though you never thought any of you would remember these songs or their words. Not after years of waiting for war, burying the peace of your childhood under preparation. “High up in the mountains, there’s snow in the mountains and rain down below. We’ll go to the mountains, high up in the mountains, we’ll go to the mountains and I’ll show you the snow.”

You missed them.

You missed your mother. Your father, most of all. Your brother, killed in battle (you were told after you’d recovered enough to handle the news, which you still hadn’t handled). You missed the child version of yourself, how sure she was that her freedom was a good thing – if you were bound to nothing, nothing would ever be lost.

You cried until you slept.

The clash and clang of armor did nothing but rattle your nerves. Skies and stars, Borra was ferocious. He showed no mercy to the king’s-men-in-training who’d arrived to serve on the royal guard; it was as much his training with bronze armor as it was theirs, not that it evened his advantage. Philip was just as easily overwhelmed, though you could see the intent in his face – the desire to prove his strength to a man he hardly knew.

King John took his breakfast with you, on the balcony just outside the dining hall, where you could overlook where they staged battle in one of the enclosed courtyards. Your herb water – tea – remained untouched despite your request for it.

“Here,” he placed a buttered roll on a wooden plate and passed it toward you. “Take some of the jam. It’s fig!”

You were tired and your head throbbed from your eyes to your forehead, but you smiled at the old man. “Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?” the once and maybe still-ruling king could be socially tone deaf, but he did his best not to tread too harshly on your unhealed wounds. So to speak.

You lifted your wings. They did that much for you now, but they didn’t fold properly. One of them barely folded at all after having been spread to let the bones set. “They’re half immobile, but they’ll do.” The violation of your soul remained unhealed.

“I’ve sought reparations on your behalf, you know.” His attention wasn’t even on them anymore. He had single-minded focus as he set another pastry – this one filled with fresh blueberries and drizzled with still-warm cream, something you couldn’t resist even if you wanted to – onto your plate. You took it from him, and took a large bite while he spoke. “That little creature in the sewers—”

“Lickspittle,” you clarified. “The pixie-made-gnome.” You knew nothing of their culture, but the intimacy of having your wings removed and being forced into servitude didn’t fail you. “Ingrith stole his wings, also.”

He wasn’t expecting you to be as empathetic as you were. You were no fool, you knew the woman hadn’t forced his hand in the atrocities he’d taken part in, but you still had to bite back tears at the recollection of someone’s hand on your face, lifting your head when you were too weak to do it yourself. Water at your lips. Someone refused to let you die even when the woman called you an animal to your face; despite the primal fear that gripped you whenever a human man looked at you now.

Human men who weren’t Philip and John, though that had been a difficult transition by itself.

“He’s going before the tribunal.” John was still quite proud of himself for that, and you wouldn’t be lying to say you also were. He was a good man, a good king. Just. But not always as aware as he should be. “He’s not the only one.”

Borra would be happy about that. Justice for your people. Justice for your fallen, even those who hailed from the moors.

You, on the other hand? No tribunal would erase the shots that took your father’s life. No measure of justice would give you back the full use of your wings or the peace in your heart. You saw the way Maleficent held herself, she who had once been wingless, and you wished you had the strength to do the same.

He ducked his head, tried to hold your eyes. “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” you replied. “I hope you weren’t planning on opposition.”

“Not from you,” he admitted, and took your buttered roll to add a generous amount of fig jam. “Not toward the tribunal, at least. I haven’t a clue how old you are, but you every time I look at you, I swear you’ve gotten thinner.”

It was the opposite, and it made you smile. You knew you’d been fed just enough to keep you alive and nothing more. Hunger was never strong enough to overcome your physical pain, and the scars that covered you like one of the young queen’s dressing gowns kept that on display. When you returned to your people, you ate like a wild animal. You made yourself sick for days. Despite the symbolic regular serving of goat while you resided in the palace, it took you weeks to feel full again.

“My father would’ve liked you.” You squeezed his hand and ate that one too. Then, at last, you had some tea, and the warmth of it gave you pause enough to rest the ceramic cup against your temple for relief.

“I would’ve liked him, based on the child he raised.” John squeezed your hand in return.

Your smile became more genuine, even as you heard several men go backward at the same time. Maybe because of it.

Borra was kind to you. Gentle in ways he had never been before. When you woke this morning, and Shrike had already gone, he was beside you, preening your wings since you still couldn’t do it by yourself. He hadn’t hesitated, when he saw your fixed gaze, to join you in your nest and fit his body against yours so that you could soak in the warmth of him. Your favorite places to kiss were the hollow of his throat and the space just above the gap between his wings. You loved to fit your body against him in return; wrap your arms around him when he slept and hold his head against your chest. Nearly took out your face on his horns more times than you could count, but that didn't rob you of the pleasure of it.

“Cassia,” John’s voice was a bit more grave. You felt better, though, letting yourself linger on pleasant thoughts. The throbbing in your face from your midnight cry had subsided some. “I need you to be there, at the tribunal.”

You stared at him. You knew what he was asking, but it refused to process. Metaphorically speaking, you’d mentally stalled out several weeks into your capture; you hadn’t processed the fact that your people had gone to war, that you’d collectively agreed to leave the nest on a whoever-desired trial basis, or that Borra was in love with you. (Though putting the thought to words filled you with inexplicable pleasure.)

“I know what I ask is far more cruel to you than I have ever desired to be, but there will be significant opposition to measures of reparation. The nobility and the gentry, in particular, need to be convinced.”

Phantom weight rested on your chest.

“John,” you began, though you didn’t know where you’d end. You recalled phantom whispers. Men daring each other to touch you while you burned with iron fever. Nudges at your hands becoming the jab of a weapon through the bars, making you startle and recoil and cry out. There were little wounds along your sides, adding to the count of your scars; from the tips of pole-axes, from the points of spears. You recalled, suddenly, with painful vividness, someone drawing a line down your hip with a sword.

You pulled away from him without warning. Your wings beat, but generated no wind. The phantom weight on your chest had become a tightness, and your heart pounded like the thunder of hooves.

You relived your ordeal regularly. He couldn’t ask you to do it for an audience.

But you are, some nagging little voice whispered, so why not?

You had to grip the stone railing for support. You faced the courtyard – Philip and the young men, and some part of you not hazed with anguish saw the concern written plainly on the prince’s face.

Borra didn’t miss a beat. The moment they faltered, he was there on the other side. Your cheek rested nicely in his covered palm, and you leaned into the heat of his touch.

Delirious with fever and delirious with pain. Being dragged out in a collar without regards to your broken wings, dropped in a bath of ice. You fought. It hurt, you hurt, it did nothing to soothe your wounds. But you were held down until you shook while someone scrubbed the molasses-blood from the bottom of your cage.

“Look at me.” He spoke only to you, his thumb brushing across the apple of your cheek. “Cas.”

You did. It took you a moment to find your lungs.

You lived in a constant state of exhaustion, now. It was different when you needed to physically heal; then, you slept at will. Now, your thoughts were invaded by paralyzing fear and the aftermath left you thoroughly drained. You could’ve climbed over the barrier and into his arms.

“I will need you at the tribunal, also,” John said to him. “They need to know what’s been done to the moor-folk.”

He watched your face until your breathing calmed, and then he shifted back on his heels to see him, his free hand coming to rest over yours on the railing as though out of habit. “Tell them yourself.”

“Absolute rule can only extend so far.” John was…good and kind and patient and you suddenly hated that about him. “This isn’t Stefan’s Perceforest. I won’t have my people cowering in fear while my children beg them to understand.”

That much, they had to mutually agree on. There would never be peace if the humans remained afraid. They were right to fear you – to fear him. He’d asked only once about what you’d dreamt, and your response (they looked at you like wolves approaching their wounded kill; you knew their faces so well that it scared you. That they’d torn pieces from your clothes with their weapons in the process of drawing blood, clipped your feathers just to hear you cry out in pain at the touch) created a dangerous fury that you had yet to see subside. You told him nothing of the ice baths, of lying there, drenched and shaking, while your body burned (though Ini had said, in passing, that you were lucky to have avoided infection; with the state you were in when Aurora found you, it would’ve been your end).

“I’ll go,” you managed.

Borra scowled.

“You’ll need to talk to them like you would if you went before our council. I want to be there.”

“The both of you are our best hope for justice,” John pressed. “Peace can’t be maintained if we sweep what’s happened under the rug.”

Aurora got to him, you realized. Aurora, or Borra got to Philip and Philip got to him. But it wasn’t planned; he didn’t want you to do this. Nearly as badly as you did.

You laid your head against him. It was so much, all the time. If it could bring everyone peace, if it could avenge your fallen and secure a future, then you might as well become complacent with it.

“I’ll go,” you repeated, more quietly. Just to him. “But will you request me an audience with Maleficent before I do?”

He shifted his hand to your back. You hated that there was a railing between you, but the affirmation of the gesture wasn’t lost. You thanked him quietly into the bronze plating over his rerebrace.

“That’s enough for today,” Philip said in the courtyard below. You thought if he could’ve scaled the wall to join you, he would’ve.

Borra tried to meet your eyes. He wanted to be told when you were ready to leave, and you didn’t know if you were. You had been since John dared ask of you what he had, and yet…

“What do you want of me, at the tribunal?” Would it be like going before your own council? Proposing ideas in hopes of agreement?

“I want you to tell them what happened to you. Though, be prepared….you will have resistance.”

You felt his growl through his chest plate. Resistance to what? They could no more deny your scars than you could.

You laid your head on him. “They won’t believe I got them there,” you told him.

He must’ve stared at John for confirmation. John also must’ve nodded, because all of a sudden, he scaled the railing and joined you on the other side. “You’re asking us to offer ourselves like a sacrifice?”

You rested your hand on his chest.

“No.” The gravity never left John’s voice after that. “You’ll be protected. No harm will come to you as long as we rule this land. I’ve promised before, and I will again. I ask you to persuade them with the truth, nothing more.”

“Persuade them,” he half-spit.

You felt for a bare spot on his shoulder or his arm where you could touch.

“Calls for peace instead of calls for war.”

“Calls for justice instead of erasure,” John replied. “They’ll give you peace, but it won’t be wholehearted. I want ill-placed hatred eradicated from my kingdom.” Your feathers prickled like he might’ve been looking at you, and you hated to think that you –listless, iron-fevered, wounded you who John had decided to nursemaid when Aurora found you – were the reason the human king so abruptly became someone even Borra could reason with. “I’ll not have fey avoiding Ulstead out of fear, nor will Aurora in the other kingdoms.”

“And you think jailing a fey will change that? You’ll give them what they want.”

“I said nothing about Lickspittle being the only one to go before us. As it stands, trying Ingrith would be little more than symbolic, but we do have the surviving members of the queen’s guard as well as—”

“Don’t,” you managed. Do not rip the ground out from under us all.

“General Percival,” John finished anyway.

The human Shrike was fond of. Fond of, though you knew in your heart of hearts that she would never choose him over your people, and that if John decided to sacrifice him to the tribunal, that would be the choice she would never make.

You knew Borra knew that also, and you knew that he felt the choice, or lack thereof, was her responsibility and her responsibility alone. But you still ached for her, and you kept your back to John for long enough that Borra’s arm ensnared your waist.

“I don’t trust kings.” That went without saying; your people never had one and never would. Aurora could merge the kingdoms all she liked, but even while you lived on the moors, you were not moor-folk. “Ones who spare their servants nothing, even less.”

“What else would you have me do?”

You were aware, at least in part, of approaching steps. Philip, perhaps. Maybe Aurora.

But it was so much, all the time, and you pressed your head against him so your horns curled against the side of his neck. “Can you take me home?” you whispered. “Please?”

Hold yourself accountable, was the thing unsaid. You were willfully ignorant to your wife, you had to have been. You knew the shrew you married and sympathy can only go so far.

There was some quiet movement behind you, and the tension in Borra’s posture softened just a bit when you felt a cloth parcel press into your hand.

You looked up. Philip wrapped nearly half of the blueberry pastries you liked in ornamental paper and bound them in one of the crisp, gold napkins. You held the parcel by its knot and your traitor eyes dampened.

“Get some rest.” His touch on your back was gentle – so gentle that you almost didn’t realize his fingers had begun to brush one of your exposed scars. “You don’t have to decide now. And, whatever you do, the crown will back you.”

It was in your best interest to leave before you started crying again. You still hated it, for how weak you felt and how frequently it happened, not that it could’ve been helped. You were tired. You never slept well. The past haunted you, the future frightened you, and nearly all measures of your solace stood with you on the balcony.

You tucked your wings in as best as they would go to shield them against Borra’s self-made windstorm.

You never had a dreamless sleep. Not since you joined him on the moors.

Tonight’s was, by far, the worst.

Because she’d taken your wings.

She’d taken your wings and sawed off your horns and bound you in iron like a puppet on a string. She made you hurt him, drive iron into his skin over and over until dark blood ran from between his lips. Even as you screamed, even as you cried, you had no control over your body. Your iron chains guided your hands even as you begged for her to stop, stop, please, you’re killing him, stop!

“STOP!”

And you were in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. Your cheeks were wet and your breath ragged. He was silent at first, his hand against the back of your neck keeping your head against him.

“Shh.” The point of his thumb-talon brushed your skin. “You’re safe now.”

You put your hands on his chest. You intended to go before the tribunal and do what? Put into words that you could never sleep? That the constant state of terror you felt twisted even the happiest parts of your waking life into nightmares that plagued your every sleep? You could see it so clearly, the dark blood rising to his lips, that you had to pull your head away and make sure it hadn’t happened.

“Do you want tea?” He searched your face. Even he looked tired, and guilt swept you away like a tidal wave. You tried to draw yourself into a ball, but he pulled you back against him, his arms secure, his grip tight enough to remind you that he would not let you shoulder your burdens alone.

“I keep dreaming that she kills you,” you whispered. “Or that she makes me do it.”

“She’s gone.” His touch traveled to your jaw, his fingers framed your ear so you could lay the weight of your head in his palm. “She’ll never hurt you again.”

And yet she did. Even now, even as a goat or an eaten-goat or wherever in skies she ended up, Ingrith tormented you, and that horrible, awful little part of you that begged for relief whispered how unfair it was.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He brought your head back to his shoulder, curled his wing around you. The other lay beneath you, you realized, and you felt guilty about that too. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Your lips brushed his skin. Even before this, he slept poorly; he had always been prepared to protect you from attack, though that was the collective-you rather than the individual-you he tended now. You kissed the point of his pulse, one of your hands moving from his chest to the back of his neck.

He made a small sound of approval. You imagined his eyes were half-closed like yours. You imagined what raged inside of him was just as turbulent as your own personal storm.

You didn’t plan to do what you did, kiss a gentle path from his pulse to his lips, but you did. His mouth quirked against yours, and when you kissed him, it didn’t feel like you were kissing him anymore – not the broken, turbulent, uncertain you that he’d been holding. All of that fury and all of that pain had to become something different. They needed an outlet, and the best place for you to be was right where you were.

So you kissed him. Hard.

You clung to him, your arms around his neck, your fingers in his hair. You needed him. Your lover, your protector, your friend. You needed him buried to the hilt inside you where he was safe – you needed to be on top of him, riding him, so if an arrow came from outside, it wasn’t him that was struck.

“Mm, Cas.” He put his hands on your sides. He started to withdraw.

You tried to pull him closer, fighting to get him settled between your legs.

But he was stronger than you. He pushed you on your back and held you there while he panted, his lips flush and eyes blown and his body so very inviting even though, for some reason, he didn’t lower to meet you.

“Not like this,” he whispered, but the raggedness of his breath betrayed how badly he wanted to under any other circumstance.

“Yes, like this,” you whispered back. “Please, Borra.”

He dropped his head back, and you thought he might groan. How long had he been waiting to hear his name in your mouth like that?

You guided his hands. You wanted him to touch you, but he pulled away to sit back on his knees.

“Skies and stars, Cas.”

You were beneath him. You raised your hips, and he pinned you down suddenly like he was seizing an awaited prey. It drove your hips firmly into the down, and you tried to work them against him.

Until he started to withdraw fully. Like he would leave.

“Wait.” You grabbed for him. “Wait, no, I’ll stop—”

“I won’t take you like this,” his voice was so fierce, you hardly considered how badly he must’ve wanted you. “Crying out in your sleep--”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” He grabbed your hands just as quickly as you thought he might grab his armor. But he didn’t redress. He’d settled there, with you, before you’d gone to sleep. The radiant warmth of his body against yours made you feel safe; you didn’t know if you’d be able to get back to sleep without him.

For a long, tense moment, neither of you moved.

“Lie down,” he murmured, and you obediently did.

He stared at you for a moment, the rawness of his amber eyes unspeakable. He loved you, and he wanted you, and as badly as he wanted to indulge those impulses, when he laid down, it was with his head against your chest and his horns deliberately canted away from your face.

“When you’re ready, Cas.” His cheek rested against the hollow of your collarbone, and your hand that wasn’t settled against his back began lightly, absently, stroking the base of his horns. “I’ve waited for you this long.”

“Why?” you whispered.

“Because I love you,” he said, and there was no shame in it. It was so casual, so plain, like he’d said it out loud a thousand times before. It hit you in the chest full force, and you flattened your palm just below his horns, pressing him against you.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re all I have,” you replied. You stroked back his hair, your fingers lingering at the decorative cracks in his skin. This wasn’t the intimacy you’d abruptly planned on – it was much deeper, all that much harder to deal with.

He was silent for a moment. You didn’t want to risk breaking contact to see if it was because he was thinking or because he enjoyed being touched, so you just kept touching. Your fingers wandered from his temple into his hair, gathered it back behind his leafed ear. Your thumb brushed its shell, and he made a small sound of pleasure.

“Do you like that?” you murmured. You certainly liked touching him. His warmth, his weight, settled against your chest. Even without being wrapped around you like a protective outer skeleton, he still made you feel warm and soft and loved and safe.

“I tried to kill him after they found you.”

Your fingers paused. It didn’t surprise you, not really, but…he upheld peace.

“That hobgoblin, Lickspittle.” He nearly spit his name. “He swore to me he had nothing to do with it. I didn’t believe him. He helped her. He helped her kill our family. Poached and slaughtered the moor-folk. Little beast would’ve done anything to protect himself.”

“Why didn’t you?” You’d switched your attention, holding his head to your chest while you toyed lightly with the downy feathers where his wings met his back.

They flexed gently at the joints, something yours could only do roughly now. You stroked them in earnest for it, pressed your face into his hair and breathed him in.

“Because they nearly killed you.” His voice was dark, even soft. “When I smelled your flesh and your blood, I knew how easy it would be to destroy him and every man in the king’s guard. How easy, how satisfying.”

You could imagine him doing it. Snapping Lickspittle’s neck like a dry twig. The men he’d kill despite their armor. Whole halls draped with bodies like toppled statuary.

“I could’ve avenged you without losing you. But I felt that if I did, I would.” He shifted a bit, moving closer. His head was tucked into your neck and his body sagged more comfortably against yours, less of him out of the nest than in it. You tried to ignore the way his hands felt on your sides, the light skim of his talons through your well-groomed plumage. “You were so broken, lying in that bed. It took everything in my power not to take you home.”

Home.

If you’d awoken in your bed…would it have been better, or worse? Here, you weren’t as haunted by memories, though that didn’t stop them from seizing you at every opportunity. You could imagine waking in the soft white of the healer’s nest, but in that imagined alternate world, he was with you. Just as he had been in Ulstead. Touching you more softly than you ever thought he would, helping you mend your broken wings.

“When you awoke…when you cried out, and I saw how horribly they’d violated you, having you in my arms was all that tethered me.” His hands rested on your sides. Your back. You pressed yourself closer, your shifting wings making the twigs beneath you rustle. “There isn’t a moment when I don’t hate them for what they’ve done to you.”

“I love you,” you whispered. A reminder, an expression of gratitude, a promise all rolled into one.

“And I love you. If I slaughtered every man in that palace and returned to you with their blood on my hands, would you have loved me then?”

Yes, you thought with a certainty that frightened you. Yes, you would’ve, because it wouldn’t be the first life he took. That didn’t stop him from touching you like you were sacred; from combing out your plumage and pressing feather-soft kisses to your skin.

“I could no more hold it against you than you could hold my flight against me.” We all make mistakes, is what you meant – and you didn’t think you’d ever called it that before. The decision you made to leave the nest that night was impulsive. Stupid. A mistake, just as plucking that poacher from the river had been.

“You didn’t mean to get carried off.” It wouldn’t be the same.

“And you’ve never taken a life when you weren’t absolutely certain it would save one. I trust you, Borra.” Far more than you trusted yourself, at times.

He kissed your collarbone and then your throat, one kiss at the hollow and one at either point of your pulse. You held his hair and bit back the swell of your emotions.

“If you decide to go, I’ll stand beside you.”

You were never in doubt, but you still gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “We stand together. We fight together.” You’d been treated to Ini’s rendition of the battle cry that led them into war before, and you let his certainty balm your wounds.

“And we will show them no mercy,” he agreed, giving the hollow of your throat one more kiss.

You saw her since she and her raven-mate last offered care, but from afar.

Maleficent was, truly, a beautiful woman. As lovely of a forest fey as all the rest of you. Lips like berries, skin like birch, eyes like springtime, hair the color of wet bark.

Shrike told you they described her differently in the human villages. Lips like fresh-spilled blood, skin like death, eyes cold and green with envy, horns like the devil itself.

It didn’t surprise you. Even before, it never would’ve, but, now, it saddened you also; Maleficent was a strange name for one of you. You were named for an herb, like so many others; your father for the wolves, for when he had been a warrior he had been just as brave and just as fierce. It was said she was named for malice and magnificence, though only the latter was fitting.

Especially when she met you at your bonfire and took you in her arms like you had known one another all your lives. She was dear to your father, and that made her dear to you as truly as you were held in the reverse.

“You look better,” Diaval spoke first. His black eyes were keen and kind, and you smiled at him in return.

“Physically, the scars will fade.” Truly, you wanted to sound more optimistic about your plight than you felt, as though Maleficent didn’t know the sadness in your voice. As though she would’ve released you easily had you not sought to meet her eyes. “I’d like a private audience with you, if that’s alright.”

Diaval bowed his head graciously and left to join your kinsmen nearer to the fire.

You struggled to find the words that, frankly, you hoped had already been spoken. Especially while doing your best to keep the appearance of lifted spirits.

“Borra told me things were…difficult.”

The extent of difficult, you would’ve liked to know, but you released your breath in a full-bodied sigh and nodded. “I have something to ask of you that I’m not sure you can do. It’s alright if you can’t; I wanted to exhaust my options.”

How anyone could think her malicious, you didn’t know. Her concern for you was as gentle as it was obvious, you who were bound to her by the blood of your long-hailed ancestors.

“Can you take this fear away?”

No, her eyes said, though, blessedly, she didn’t respond as quickly.

“If I am to go before the tribunal on behalf of our people, I cannot be grounded by it as I’ve been. These visions, whether they’re memories or dreams…they engulf me.” You meant to say that you couldn’t very well go before innumerable humans clutching Borra’s hand like you were his child. You couldn’t very well be publicly coddled by the king. “It’s as real when I remember as it was when it happened.”

She did her best to keep her expression even, though you saw the briefest flicker of a downturn in her lips. She took your hand in hers – just one, but then between both, and held you there.

“I understand,” she breathed, and you recalled, suddenly, that of course she would. Stefan’s Perceforest – she who had been wingless at the hands of someone she trusted, someone she loved. There was no use in quantifying either of your pain; though it came from different sources, it ran just as bottomless.

She understood, but her grip tightened. You squeezed her hand in return, between both of yours. Your traitor eyes welled, and you forced yourself to breathe in deeply and release it slowly. “I needed to exhaust my options.”

“How are your wings?” she asked.

You shook your head. They were manageable. The pain was gone, now, save for the phantom pains that gripped you in the midst of violent panic. They didn’t work, and you were increasingly certain that they never would again, but they were there, and they were yours, and it was not as though the rest of you wasn’t just as broken.

“Stay with us,” you offered. “Tonight. Help us prepare.”

She nodded. Of all the things you’d asked, it was the only one she could do.

Before you could withdraw, she bid you pause with a gentle tug upon your hands. She could not erase your fear, but when she raised her hand to brush her fingers along your temple, the comfort she conjured nearly brought you to tears.

You were but a little girl, curled tight in your early nest-bed. The forest was still black with pre-dawn, but your mother came from the jungles. She wove the streaks of gold in your hair and in your dark, owly feathers. She felt the call of dawn song even when she nested with you and your father, and you remembered – all too well now, all too suddenly – the sound of her voice as she sang out into the void. Into the nothingness. She welcomed morning in a world so dark that it seemed it would never come, for your forest still existed in a cave, and until the light hit the entrances just so, there was only blackness. Not even the kiss of the moon.

Your mother spoke a language she had been stolen from you before you learned. She practiced traditions that seemed to die as abruptly as she did. You knew the sound of her shifting, the donning of her dress, the sound of her breath as she inhaled the petrichor and the cold and belted out into the morning words to a song that you would never know. She called to your ancestors, she called to their sons, it seemed she woke everyone in the entire cavern with her song.

Your father rose behind her, only minutes after. Her wings were as bright as his were dark; the colors streaked through her long, black hair painted rainbows over his shoulder when he held her close. His song was not the same, but he sang to her anyway. “Love bright as the dawn is golden, love sweet as the cherry tree. Only in the ground would it be colder; morning’s brought my love to me.”

You listened to them every morning, to your own approximation of dawn-song. You heard the jungle people echo it from somewhere far away, the pleasant rise and fall of melody within the forest. You never knew if the tundra and the desert joined them, but you’d always imagined that if they didn’t, they must’ve heard.

You wondered, now, what it meant to them. If it meant anything at all.

You brought her hands over your heart. For the first time in an age, you felt like you could truly breathe. You could taste the scent of home on the air, taste the perfume of your mother’s fruit concoctions, the sour-ripe kiwi stinging the back of your tongue. You felt like they were just within reach, slow to slip back out of it. Gone, but nearby.

“Thank you.”

She touched your face, and you brought your head close to hers even if that wasn’t what she initiated. She deserved to know the ways of her own people, and you bunted your horns with hers gently.

For once, the lightness stayed.

Despite the polarity of their differences, Diaval elected to sit nearest Borra, with space between them for the both of you to interrupt. They both looked up when you approached; Diaval’s sparkling eyes landed on his mate, and yours… You watched the tension leave Borra on his breath when he saw you.

When you sat, you bunted with him too. And then kissed him, just because you could.

You almost didn’t notice his hands lift until you felt the weight against your chest and your hand lifted to brush over the etched face of a pendant all too familiar to you.

Your father’s.

Your face changed, though you weren’t stolen-breathless. You searched his face, your fingers lingering on the smooth-worn blue stone that your mother made long ago, when you were still growing inside her.

Borra breathed you in. His fingers lingered at the back of your neck only to withdraw when he stood. When he addressed the assembled others.

“Our fight is not yet over.”

They beat their chests as they had in the cavernous meeting hall. That part of you that Maleficent brought back to the surface straightened you, brought you to your full attention.

“The humans have given us peace, now we seek justice.”

The severity of every phrase was punctuated by their exclamation. You were no longer watching from the sidelines, you realized much too soon; this was your fight, your war, your turn to be the warrior.

“They say they will repay every life they’ve taken--”

Again.

“Every wound they’ve caused.”

Again. If you hadn’t loved him before, you wouldn’t have been able to deny yourself then. Borra was a warrior, he lived to defend your people and all you stood for. He fought for those who could not fight for themselves, and you felt your own dawn-song budding in your heart.

“They bring us to a battle of a different sort and encourage us to win. We still have human enemies in Ulstead and the other kingdoms, and this will never stop.”

Maleficent was restless. She didn’t know him like you did.

“Our tides have changed. We hold the upper hand. The palace is ours, the kingdom is ours, and one day we will move beyond it. One day, we will take back the jungles, the deserts, the forests, the plains--”

You saw the excitement in the eyes of your collective’s fledglings. The very thought of freedom without boundary was so foreign to them – so foreign even to you that you dared not dwell on the thought for you knew the anxiety it would cause.

“Today, we claim these kingdoms for our own. No human will subjugate us. No kingdom holds us as their slave. For every life they take, we claim a dozen more.”

“Does he know what a tribunal means?” Diaval asked Maleficent quietly.

“Today, we look their worm nobility in the eyes and demand retribution. There will be no peace without justice.”

You knew that scared them. You understood why. But it was the first time in so long that your people assembled like this; even the children beat their chests.

He turned to you, then, the movement of his wings as fluid over the red-needled earth before the bonfire as they were on the weathered stone of the meeting cove. He held out his hand to you, and the part of you that Maleficent conjured was the part of you that had begun to trust him without question.

You accepted it. You stood.

One of your elders stood, also. They came to join you as Borra gathered back your hair.

You looked to him, knowing that your eyes betrayed you.

“Cassia Born-of-Conall, the blood of the Phoenix is inside you. From one of our most decorated warriors comes she who is too strong to die.”

They rallied for you. No one opposed. You didn’t understand – that was one way to see it, surely, but you were no warrior. Certainly not one as decorated as your father, though your elder began to paint his marks upon your shoulder.

“It was you the king sought to lead us into battle, and you the council backs as its head.”

What?

They planned this, then. Every last one of them. He didn’t just call Maleficent for you as you requested, he planned to drive your fear away himself if she could not.

Your stomach sunk. Truly, you were terrified. But not once did you oppose. You reasoned with yourself that it was not something your people did; you had been chosen, and therefore it was your duty, but that was not the whole truth and, of that, you were painfully aware.

Having Borra beside you made you feel strong. With his fingers in your hair, the paint drying on your collarbone, your father’s pendant on your chest, you could almost believe that the phoenix-blood that lived inside you all was responsible for your not-dying. You could almost believe that it was a combination of strength and stubbornness – like it would’ve been for him – and not raw luck.

You could almost believe that you would walk into the tribunal in the morning and feel no fear.

They welcomed you without being prompted. The rhythmic foot-stomping, chest-beating, guttural cries drew the air into your lungs. You tipped your head back, let him release your gold-tinged braids.

And you flared your broken wings.

For the first time since you’d taken to the skies on them, you knew how beautiful they were. Even crooked, even if the left one was canted a bit, they flexed enough to hold steady, and the veins of gold and dark, blue-green hues that tinged certain feathers caught the firelight.

If only for the time being, you could entertain the thought that your iron scars were as well-earned as his regardless of whether or not any of yours truly were. You could believe that someone who spent their life avoiding conflict, avoiding casualty only to become one, could be a worthwhile warrior.

You had to – because, in the palace of Ulstead, a man in a crisp, red formal coat entered the tribunal hall.

Lord Azarias was not well known to Queen Ingrith, and he considered that his greatest shame. Had he known the queen would prove to be so vital of an ally, he might’ve done more to secure the Midlands’ annexation despite the influx of similar merchants to his field. But, that was no matter now – for all he knew, King John had all the iron in the kingdom sealed away in an oubliette.

All of the iron save for the bolt he placed in the hollow well along the seam of his allotted seat.

#Borra x Reader #Dark Fey #Maleficent: Mistress of Evil #Borra Maleficent #Maleficent Borra #Maleficent x Diaval #Cassia born-of-Conall #Unfettered #cw: copious amounts of violence; trauma; trauma mention #This one's gonna be a doozy long term

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jay-and-dean · 4 years

Text

Rescue You Chapter 13 : December 5 and 6

Dean x reader

Summary : My name is Y/n. I’m the outcast of my witch community. This is the story of how I rescued Dean Winchester, the story of how he saved me.

Serie Warnings : Swearing. Injuries. Smut. Fluff. Angst.

Chapter warning : Smut, unprotected sex (be smart) fluff, violence, death, blood, swearing I think, I always swear...

Words : .13 k

Author note : Next AND last chapter next wednesday

***Rescue You Masterlist***

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

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December 5, 10:28pm

Before Aiden reaches the ground, I’m at Dean’s feet.

Time has stopped.

My heart too.

“Dean…” I call and Sam gets up. “Dean, baby” he coughs, blood reddening his teeth. “Baby, I need you. I need you, please !”

My voice breaks and my forehead falls on his.

“Y-you’re free…” he pants, my tears falling on his chin.

My hands search the wound in the sea of blood on his chest, struggling with the layers of clothes he’s wearing. The bullet hit his lungs, there is nothing I can do. Nothing. Even if I could stop the bleeding, he would drown in his own blood.

“Castiel…” I hear Sam say but my baby is having trouble breathing already so I don’t really listen.

Blood is escaping his mouths. His hand comes weakly to my cheek and wipes a tear, he falls back.

“DEAN !” I scream, trying to hold him back but his head loudly hits the floor. “No nononono… Baby you can’t leave me. You can’t… I can’t…”

“I l-love you…” he says in a groan of effort. “I’m so proud of you…”

My wolf is dying. My hunter have been hunted down. And there is nothing I can do. I should have been stronger, I should have had power. Useless. Weak. I should have been able to handle these powers, then I could do something.

“Dean !” Sam calls from behind me.

I hear gunshots and screams, but they seem so far away.

“Dean ! Please, hold on a little longer !” Sam shouts.

I bend on my love, my hands still totally bathing on his blood. If he doesn’t make it, if my Dean dies and there is nothing left… I have to tell him I love him, but saying goodbye…

“Dean. Baby… Stay with me just a little longer. I-I know you feel like you can’t but remember in the forest baby… You couldn’t get up.” His eyes struggle to focus on me, and even in the horrible pain he’s feeling, at the doors of death, he smiles at me. “And you did. Remember… You’re my hero Dean. I love you more than words can express.”

He doesn’t answer, he can’t. A tear rolls down his face and he closes his eyes.

“No !Baby !Dean ! Stay with me !” I cry out.

Once again my wolf shows how strong he his. His eyes open again and search mine, but he barely breathes now, red threatening blood overflowing his mouth, and the grim smell of it replacing my love’s skin’s.

My hand finds his heart and I can feel it beating, weak but still there, struggling under my touch. His eyes close again and I know I can’t ask him to be strong this time.

“Please please please…” I sob, focusing on the discreet beating of his heart. “I’m here baby. I won’t go anywhere. I’m here…”

I close my eyes too, and put my forehead back on his, leaning over him, I feel my lungs suffer with his.

“I’m so sorry…” I wail.

“Dean ! Hold on !” Sam orders.

“AAAAAAAAAH !” I suddenly cry out, the rage of an entire life coming out of me.

A scream so harrowing, I hope it could scare Death itself… My head is dizzy, and a despair so brutal hits me, that I fall totally, not able to hold my body, not able to think. Everything becomes black then a white kind of black.

Nothing…

Nothing.

Something painfully grabs me out of my lethargy. Big hands grabbing my shoulders, to tear me apart from the man I love. I can’t be away from him. I promised. I will stay there. So I fight the hands but they are stronger, wau too strong for me, I scream and cry, until the hands crush my head against a chest, and I hear a beating heart.

“Y/n…” I recognize Sam’s voice. “Cas is here.”

And just like that, I open my eyes. The light hits me and makes me frown, I need to see my boyfriend, but Sam’s strong hands hold me too firmly to let me turn my head to Dean. So I just stop to move, waiting to know if my life is over, or if my love is coming back to me.

Suddenly, Sam’s embrace loosens and my world crashes down. Is he dead ? I can’t… Until I feel it.

His hand.

His.

I turn and my Dean is sitting behind me.

“Let me take care of her” he murmurs like almost dying was nothing to him, and opens his arms to me.

He’s as new. No dark red stain and no hole in his chest. Me being still covered in his blood is the only witness of what just happened. I hesitate, not really able to think clear right now.

“Come here Y/n” he just says and I fall in his arms, sobbing and clinging to him, shaking, my breath short and painful.

“A few seconds later, Dean. You would be dead” Castiel groans. “Everything was shutting down but your heart was still struggling to beat, I have never seen such a will to survive.”

I look up to see his face and he smiles at me.

“I wasn’t ready to let my Y/n go” he whispers, putting a kiss on my head. “You should have seen me trying to fight the Reaper.”

A shiver goes up my spine. His smell is back and I keep sobbing, my hand clumsily searching for his heart. It’s beating so strongly now.

“Dean, we have a problem” his brother grunts, hiding the tears of relief from his own voice.

December 5, 11:33.

Dean’s fingers are intertwined with mine when he opens the door of the dungeon, Sam behind us.

When they see us, my mother’s and sister’s eyes widen. I can imagine how scary we look… My wolf, tall and stronger than ever, back from the dead and perfectly clean of any sign of struggle, a gun at his waist. Holding hand with me : His queen, baptized in his blood from my hair to my knees, born a new me, with no roots and radiating love.

They are tied up and begging me with their eyes.

“Where is Ophelia ?” I ask.

“I killed her” Sam states, crossing his arms.

“But those two are your family baby” Dean finishes.

“I have no family” I shake my head and my mom starts crying.

“Y/n… Y/n… Please, don’t throw us to the hunters, they’re cruel, you know that, Treasure” she tries and I wince at the nickname, my dad used to call me like that, before they sentenced him just for loving his little girl. “We will disappear… Y/n just let us go, we will go to Europe and…”

“You pulled the trigger” I cut her, her eyes widen. “You tried to killed the man I love. You’re officially a murderer monster. You know what my baby does to them ?”

“Y/n ! Listen to yourself ! You sound crazy !” my sister cries. “He manipulated you !”

“He actually is the only person that never did it, sis. Well, with dad… Is it true you told them dad hit you ? Or that Aiden tried to hit on you, because I was just a pity fuck…”

“Y/n…”

“I knew everything. I could listen because no one payed attention to me…”

“I should have killed you when I could” she grunts.

I take a deep breath and look at them, I feel nothing anymore, the rage is gone now, because in the end I’m loved and strong.

“Do your thing, baby” I state.

But Dean turns his head to me in hesitation.

“Are you sure…”

He’s right, I don’t want him to do it.

In a sharp movement, I take the gun at my lover’s waist and point it to my mother’s head without a shake of my hand.

Boom… Boom.

December 6, 00:03

I enter Dean’s room and think of Sam and Castiel taking the bodies outside, my family’s body… Then I think of Dean’s lifeless face and start to shake. My hands and clothes are covered in blood, the hair on the side of my face too.

Still struggling to recover from my lover’s almost death and my body’s reaction from the loss of powers, I sigh, enjoying the silence in my head.

“Let me take that off” Dean says low behind me, taking my jacket to make it fall on the floor, leaving me in my tank top.

His lips graze my dirty neck and a deep wolf growl passes his lips. He bites my shoulder, probably tasting his own blood a little.

“You’re so strong” he groans. “So fierce…”

His hands grab my waist and I let my head fall back to give him full access to my throat. He licks it before his teeth graze my pulse point. I can feel his fingers digging a little too strongly at my sides, but now I can finally let my wolf eat me alive, I’m ready to take it all.

“Aiden wanted you” he says with another low growl. “But even killing me wouldn’t have bring you to him,right ?”

“Damn right baby” I feel a smile born on the corner of my lips.

“Because no one can have you…” he bites my jaw.

“No one is enough” I bite my lower lip.

“Only me…”

“You’re way more than that” I whisper, leaning back on him.

“I love you like crazy” he grunts. “I’m a psycho when it comes to you.”

I chuckle, thinking of how crazy we might actually look, him leaving jealousy bites on my covered-in-blood skin.

“You know how much I have been craving” I murmur.

“You’re done craving baby” Dean promises, his hands coming up to grab my boobs. “Tell me what you need.”

I smile wide and get on my tiptoes to rub my ass in circles on his crotch, he groans, and one of his palm goes up again, grabbing my throat both possessively and tenderly.

“I want everything… Lazy kisses in the morning, tender foreplays in the shower…” while I talk, he hums, his lips grazing behind my ear. “I want the quick sex in the bathroom at parties when we can’t wait, I want to caress you under a table…”

“Hum… I want that too” he whispers, his teeth grabbing my earlobe.

“I want to do that thing you did to me again…”

“When I ate you out baby ?” he’s so hard now.

“Yes… And do that thing to you again. I want sweet love making in our bed and I want you to teach me everything about your body and your desires…”

“Yes” he groans joining my movement to rub himself against me.

“But right now, Dean, I want to feel my tough wolf” my tone is like a provocation.

My boyfriend takes me by the waist roughly and carries me from behind, throwing me, face against the mattress, on the bed after three steps.

The second I touch the sheets, soiling them with dry blood, he’s on me. His large body on top of mine, heavy arms digging in the mattress on both sides of my head. He groans, and his still covered crotch meets my ass in a rough thrust.

I lick my lips, closing my eyes at the overwhelming feeling of his strength, radiating of him. He doesn’t stop biting me, his sharp white teeth digging in my shoulders, neck, back… Like he wanted to actually eat me.

“I love you so much…” I whine when his hard bulge pushes against my jeans.

One of his rough hands takes my tank top off, without even turning me toward him, and unclips my bras ; when he tugs on it, it scratches my nipples, making me gasp.

His mouth is on my back again, he bites and licks along my spine with animalistic groans. I’m soaked. My walls fluttering around nothing at how needy I am. Dean, my Dean finally !

When his mouth reaches my belt, I lift my arms to grab the wooden headboard. He tugs at my pants, taking my panties in his way.

“Look at you…” he whispers under a growl.

And a sharp bite on my left ass cheek makes me cry out.

“You and your teeth !” I whine, both at the delicious pain, and at the horrible need.

“You wanted a wolf, baby…” he states, half licking half kissing the dimples on my lower back.

When his fingers slip between my thighs, I involuntarily contract them, and squeeze the headboard hard.

“Yes… Insanely wet, just like I wanted you” he groans again before biting my side, catching the delicate skin on my ribs.

Then I lose his contact for a second, hearing his belt and feeling him move, his knees on both sides of my thighs.

His hand roughly turn me, making me let go the headboard brutally. He’s naked, tall and impressive, kneeling on top of me. My hands try to reach him but I can only touch his thighs.

“Spread your legs for me baby” he says.

I struggle a little to do it because he doesn’t move, caging me. But when my knees finally land on his waist, my legs are open wide for him, blocked by his slightly part massive thighs.

“Say you love me” he orders and I smile.

“More than anything”

“No one will ever come between us again or threaten you… I could murder hundreds to have you just like this” he groans, his thumbs grazing my folds.

“Dean…” I plead.

He grabs my waist and sits on his ankles. My head falling back, I brace myself, grabbing my breasts in anticipation.

“My love… Look at you” he murmurs, lining himself with my entrance.

After wetting his twitching length on my juice, he pushes slowly in and I moan, my back already arching for him, my mouth opening in silence. Shallow thrusts work me open, and the feeling of him finally inside of me makes me see stars.

When he bottoms out, it’s by thrusting, but also by strongly impaling me on him with his strong arms. I cry out, finally thrilled, finally full.

He starts thrusting and his groans become growls, his fingers digging in my hips. My hands join his on my sides and my legs spread even wider for him. I want him to see and feel that I’m totally his.

“You’re…” he pants. “So beautiful.”

Each thrust is more powerful than the last ; each time he hits my sweet spot sends me closer to ecstasy. I pant, whine, moan, grunt and beg, not controlling my mouth anymore. My wolf is becoming rough, unleashing that beast inside him, that pure energy I have only seen during battle or survival. When I manage to look at him-my nails digging in his knuckles- and see the sweat on his face, neck and chest, his jaw clench and his beautiful expression of pure animality, it sends me off the edge.

I cry out, half sitting to catch him and he lets his huge body fall on me, his elbow preventing him from crushing me. He bites the side of my left breast and I can feel him throbbing hard inside of me, even through my own clenching.

“Y/n… Fuck Y/n…” he groans a little higher than usual.

After a few more desperately hard thrusts, he empties himself in me, moaning with a hoarse voice. I feel a relief send electricity to each of my nerves, like I needed him to cum inside me to finally be whole again.

My hands try to bring him to me but he’s too heavy and I’m too weak, still shaking in my own bliss.

“Dean…” I plead and he gets the hint.

Stretching his legs back he finally lies on me, catching my lips in a passionate kiss. I can feel his heart beating like crazy against mine.

He only withdraws when our panting calms, making me whine a little at the loss ; he lets his soft cock rest on my thigh, and stays as close as possible. My fingers are in his sweaty hair and my lips can’t get enough of him.

“I love you” he says tenderly.

“Thank you for fighting so hard…” I whisper, searching his eyes, suddenly emotional.

“There is no way I can leave you Y/n” his lips find me again.

I take a deep breath and feel the calm. No rage, no fear, just the exquisite tickle of his cum dripping out of me.

He caresses my face, and the rough of his hands becomes loving and sweet, his thumb skimming my swollen lips.

“No one is ever going to hurt you again” he whispers. “Or touch you for that matters…”

“Touch me ?” I smile, kissing his finger.

He lowers his eyes a little, gently rubbing his nose on my jaw.

“Yeah well Aiden made me a little jealous…”

“Jealous ?” I can’t help but grin a little, not knowing why the idea of my Dean being jealous turns me on so deliciously. “Dean, I literally killed the guy. There is like zero reason to be jealous…”

I rub his neck tenderly, and make him look up with my chin. When his loving bright eyes meet mine, my heart grows twice its size, and I wrap my legs slowly around him.

“He just had you… Y/n… I have never been in love like that, it just makes me a little dumb. Knowing you were ready to marry him… I don’t know” he apologizes. “I’m not usually like this.”

I hush him and kiss his plumb perfect lips.

“Dean, at some point in my life, he was my only way-out of my family but… Love… Love is only you. I’m glad they asked me to kill you, baby” I chuckle slightly.

“Well you did the exact opposite” he says seriously, sending warm shivers down my spine. “You saved me… In so many ways.”

I kiss his neck and jaw, humming at the feeling of his soft cock hardening slowly on my thigh just with love words and cuddles. His palms roam my body tenderly, and his tongue invades my mouth.

“You remember that sweet love making proposition you made ?” he mumbles between kisses.

“Yes ?”

His hips wiggle, finding their way to position him at my entrance with the help of his hand. His lips never let go of mine.

“Can I suggest we start now ?” he says slowly pushing just the tip in.

“And never stop…” I smile, my arms grabbing his shoulders to never let go.

__________________________________

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