#sam & cas + coworkers that get along in front of dean

[shallowseeker]

My favorite new thing is that even when Cas was having a psychological breakdown, he still found a way to rag on Sam about his annoying personality.

[wormstacheangel]

December 19, 2021

Hello! I’m done with this chapter just in time! It took me all day cause I get distracted easily lol Enjoying my countdown for Christmas with this domestic family? Then catch up with the masterpost here!

Summary: Welcome to the flashback episode where we get the story of how Dean and Cas got together. I think it’s dumb but cute :) 

Word Count:  2358 (yeah...this one could have been longer but I had to chill)

Cas was humming in the kitchen, his playlist playing loudly through the house, while he prepared Dean’s lunch. He stirred the soup once before grabbing a spoon to taste for seasoning. Adding a bit more white pepper before dropping the chopped kale into the hot pot of chicken rice soup.

“Dad?” Jack appeared on Cas’s left. “What time is Dad coming home?”

Claire appeared on Cas’s right. “And what the hell are you listening to?”

He turned towards Jack first, who was mesmerized by the stirring of the soup. “You’re Dad will get off from work at 5, so by 5:30 he should be home.” Then he turned his attention to Claire who was snacking on the homemade croutons. Her eyes met his and she smiled, small and crooked with warm eyes. “And I’m listening to a playlist Sam made me. I believe this is Wannabe by the Spice Girls. Oh, scratch that it’s playing Heaven Help Me by Lizzo now.”

Her eyes widened before she threw her head back to laugh. A hand landing hard on his shoulder while he smiled fondly at his daughter. Jack was already humming the song while reaching for some croutons for himself. Making a face when he bits down on a real burnt one.

“Does Dean listen to this teenage girl stuff?” Claire asked, leaning against the counter. 

Jack copied her movement but it didn’t look as casual as Claire made it seem. Cas moved around them to get a tall thermos to fill with enough soup for a second or third bowl. Dean’s lunchbox was already filled with everything he needed to keep himself warm and full until he came home for dinner. He even added a loaf of apple cinnamon bread to his lunch so Dean could share with his coworkers. A smaller thermos was filled with coffee and he was bringing an extra reusable water bottle, covered in stickers Jack picked out, just in case.

“Sometimes. If he’s in a good enough mood.” Cas admits as he finishes filling up the thermos and zipping up the lunch box. 

“You know, you never really told me when you two finally got together.” Claire pushed herself off the counter to grab his arm, looking at him with bright rounding eyes that matched his eye color. “I think I deserve to hear how my Dads got together!”

“It’s a great story.” Jack agrees as he decided that copying his sister wasn’t fun anymore but he was gonna rummage through the fridge. “Dad Dean doesn’t really like talking about it much.”

“What? Why?” Claire furrowed her eyebrows together while looking up at Cas for answers. “You two are so happy-old-married-couple that it’s sickeningly cute. Was he embarrassed or something?”

“Thank you?” Cas raises an eyebrow back at her as he swings the lunchbox into his shoulder. “And he was embarrassed but I think it’s a story we should tell in front of your father.”

“Why?”

“Cause it would be funny.” Cas tells her with a wink while Jack hummed in agreement, a big smile on his face.

As Cas drove slowly through the icy road, he was smiling, fighting back a laugh, unable to stop remembering the day he returned to Earth. Returned to Dean.

It was a few days of Earth time after Chuck was defeated that Cas escaped with his brothers and sisters, along with a few demons that tagged along. He made sure Ruby stayed asleep and behind, not wanting her to bother Sam or Eileen. He never did find Crowley or Meg, even spending some time calling out for both of them when he realized so many were woken up. 

Jack found him and helped him up to heaven to try to fix whatever they could. He didn’t ask about Dean or Sam but Jack reassured him that they were fine. 

“Let me make you stronger, Cas.” Jack reached for him but Cas stopped him, shaking his head.

“I don’t plan on being an angel for long, Jack. So let me use whatever is left to help you.”

And he did. Two Earth months passed before everything was sort of decided upstairs. Raphael wasn’t the biggest fan of the new dynamic but he followed orders, happy it wasn’t under Chuck and he could actually interact with whoever was in charge. 

Cas could feel more of his grace slip away from him when he was with Bobby, reassuring him that his boys were the hero’s he believed them to be, and most importantly they were happy. 

“Are you going back to them?” Bobby asked as he sipped at his beer, Cas sat beside him drinking one of his own. Tasted just like the first one Dean has ever given him. 

Cas hummed into the bottle. “I am.”

“But they think you’re six feet under?”

“They do.” He looked down at his bottle, peeling away the label with his thumbs. “Sometimes I believe that Dean doesn’t think so.”

“Why is that?”

“He prays to me constantly.” Cas smiles, listening to Dean’s prayer right now. “Right now he’s complaining about the crowd at the grocery store.” He chuckles. “And he’s right. I do hate waiting in those long lines.”

Bobby doesn’t say much but the way he says, “Just take care of my boy.” Felt like the blessing he needed, the push, to finally go back to Dean.

Jack was coming down to Earth with him. It may take a while longer to figure out the spell to conceal and hold Jack’s God powers but they would figure it out. Amara promises to find them a way to help him and will contact them soon, giving Jack a final squeeze before she disappears. 

Cas gave Gabriel one last hug, Adam even gave him one even though he was sure Michael wasn’t the hugging type before Jack flew them back to Earth. Appearing in the middle of the bunker’s library. 

Jack ran off with a small smile on his lips, it was constantly strained and never reached his eyes as his powers overwhelmed him, to go look for the brothers. Cas was feeling dizzy from the flight so he shut his eyes, taking a hold of the back of the chair to steady himself. 

Then he looked up when he heard a bottle break. There was a figure laying on top of the map table. 

Cas took out his blade and made his wobbly legs steady before making his way over. Kicking empty beer bottles as he went. Then two bottles of bourbon by the steps. Then he saw the broken bottle of tequila that now laid on the floor by the table.

His eyes traveled up to the map table to see Dean sat blinking over at him. Head tilted and mouth slightly parted. As if he still couldn’t put a name to his face.

Cas put his blade down and made his way over to the drunk hunter. “Be careful there is glass everywhere.”

When he made it to the broken bottle he pushed it into a neat pile with his shoe. 

“How about you go to bed and I’ll clean this up?” Cas leaned down to pick up the bigger pieces but he was quick to cut himself. “Fuck.” Cas hissed as he realized he couldn’t find any grace to even heal himself enough to stop the bleeding.

Dean gently reaches down to take Cas’s bleeding hand. “The last time I saw you, the real you, the same hand was bleeding.” Dean held on to his hand and tears started to fall into Cas’s hand. “I wish I could have at least helped you patch it up. I wish I could have at least done one goddamn thing for you.”

“Dean.” Cas reached to touch Dean’s face with the tips of his fingers but Dean pushed his face into his palm. His heart raced as he cradled Dean’s face in his good hand while his other hand was being held so gently. 

“I miss you, Cas.” His eyes closed as Cas’s thumb started to make circles around his cheek all on its own. Feeling the stubble that was growing too long for Dean’s liking. “I miss you so damn much and I just...I don’t-I don’t think you’re coming back this time.”

“I’m back, Dean.” Cas tells him with urgency. Taking his bleeding hand back to grab Dean’s face, wanting to make him look at him. When Dean blinks up at him again his eyes start to water. “I’m back! I’m here. I’m here, Dean. As long as you want me.”

“Cas?” Dean finally seems to look at him, actually see him. “You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

“You’re back?” Dean covers Cas’s bloody hand with his own while the other one reaches to grip the trench coat. 

“Yes, dumbass.” Cas chuckles through his tears. 

Dean tugs at Cas’s coat and pulls him into a hug. His arms wrapped around his shoulders into a tight embrace, his nose nuzzled into Cas’s neck. His breath tickling him and his breath...horrendous. 

“You stink, Dean.” Cas hugs him back as he hides his face into Dean’s shoulder.

“I love you.” Dean says as he pulls himself closer. 

“I know. I heard your prayers.” Cas chuckles into Dean’s skin. “I love you too.”

Dean pulls back so suddenly that it scares Cas. Thinking maybe he said something wrong but then Dean made another sudden move.

“Marry me!”

Cas choked on his breath when he couldn’t even find his next words.

“Cas, marry me!” His eyes were wide, eyes dilated and a flushed face. Clearly drunk out of his mind. “You’re back so we can get married now! I mean...I think you need to ask Sam for my hand but fuck him for ditching me for Eileen today. Let’s get married before he gets home.”

Dean started to pull him towards the stairs, both of them stumbling over their feet for two different reasons. 

“Can I come too?” Jack finally made his way towards them. “I can be a flower boy!”

“Jack, we’re not getting married.” Cas tells him, his head spinning. “I just…Dean, you’re drunk!”

“Am not!” Dean argued back, his brows furrowed together. Cas’s shoulders relaxed as he looked at how cute his grumpy expression was. “Say you’ll marry me, Cas!”

“Fine, I’ll marry you!” Cas smiles back at him and the grin that shined through Dean’s eyes made his heart race. Fuck, he really missed him. “But not tonight. Tonight we sleep off the alcohol.”

Dean Winchester was pouting at him and his heart ached. He reached to grip at his own shirt, right over his heart. “Dean, please.”

“But I love you.”

“Aww,” Jack pouted back at him. “Dad, he loves you!”

“Jack, you are not helping.” Cas glared at him and then before he looked back at Dean he had a pair of hot lips pressed against his own. Dean was kissing him.

Before he could even enjoy the kiss or even register it completely, Dean was throwing up on his shoes.

Back in the garage, Cas was grinning when he stepped into the warm office. Dean was in the front office when he walked in, the phone between his shoulder and ear as he typed away in the computer. His eyes widened when he saw Cas but then a smile spread across his lips.

“Yes, we’ll send someone right over to tow your car right over. It shouldn’t take more than two to look at. Of course. It’ll be ready by tomorrow. No worries. Okay, have a nice day.” He hung up the phone and quickly rushed to pull Cas into a quick kiss and a tight hug. “Babe, what are you doing here? I said the roads were still too icy to drive in.”

“And yet you put snow chains on my tiers this morning.” Cas hands him his lunch that his boyfriend takes with a grin.

“It’s cause I know you wouldn't listen.” He kisses Cas’s cheek. “Thanks, Babe. You have time to eat lunch with me?”

“I always have time for you, Dean.”

When lunch was over Cas walked back to his truck, Dean fixing the beanie over his head once again. Giving him a quick kiss before saying, “Get home safely.”

“You too, sweetheart.” Cas waves at him when he quickly rushes to the warmth of his truck. Then before he gets into the car he looks back at Dean, who of course was still looking back at him, “Oh, by the way, Claire wants to hear the story of how we got together.”

Dean stood there for a few seconds as his face dropped, cute grumpy. “No.”

“I promised to tell her over dinner!”

“No!”

“Love you!”

“Cas, babe, no!”

“Love you! Bye!”

“Love you too but no! Cas!”

That drunk proposal felt like years ago instead of months. 

Of course, the best part of the night was the following morning.

Cas woke up with Dean staring down at him, eyes red and filled with tears but a soft smile on his lips. Fingers running through his hair in a gentle caress. Never feeling more at home than he did that morning in Dean’s bed.

“I thought it was creepy to watch people sleep.” Cas mumbles as he reaches over to rub his eyes with the palm of his hands. 

“It is but you’re, um...you’re cute when you sleep.” Dean admitted while Cas froze his face warming up under his hands. “Are you really here, Cas?”

He finally pulled his hands down to stare back at Dean. “I am.”

“And you’re here to stay? Human?”

“I am.” Cas stood still under Dean’s intense stare. “If you’ll have me.”

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned down to kiss him breathless.

Cas, as well as Jack, was made to promise not to talk about the proposal. Especially the throwing up part or the Jack carrying a passed out Dean to his bed. Cleaning both of them up before he went back to his own room. 

Still, he loved to tease him every chance he got. And he knew their daughter will do the same.

[thran-duils]

Watch Me Burn (P.6)

Title: Watch Me Burn (Part Six) Summary: Fem!Reader x AU!Cas. Fem!Reader x AU!Sam. This fic was inspired by both parts of “Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem & Rihanna. Castiel and the reader are toxic for each other and keep falling back together until the reader moved away. It’s been years and now she is back home, waltzing back into Castiel’s life. She is determined to do better this time, to make them work, but outside forces as well as the scars the two have left on each other weave their way into their reconciliation. Will they be able to overcome the past and new threats to their sustainability? Words: 2,111 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Extreme angst, domestic violence, smut, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM trust breaking, fluff, language, alcohol abuse, !!! eventual !!! happiness Author’s Note: Italics are the past!

Chap 5 || Chap 7 || Fanfic masterpost || Masterpost (mobile)

You managed to drive yourself, claiming you had to make a few stops on the way back to the office after lunch. Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Tara had carpooled together and were already seated when you arrived. The only chair open was fortunately by Charlie but unfortunately across from Sam. The double decker sandwich looked good and you could take it home for dinner. But having Sam staring at you across the table… you ordered a salad. You did not miss the quick uptick on his lips, satisfied by your choice. You felt shame clawing away at you inside for succumbing to his shadow. Focusing on the conversation happening around the table and pretending to be okay was proving hard.

“Today’s a good day. I am so excited you’re here,” Dean said slapping Sam on the back. He looked beside himself.

“Likewise, man,” Sam said in turn.

“And Dean did get himself out of a ticket this morning apparently. He’s having a great day,” Tara jested.

Sam laughed asking Dean what she meant. And Dean explained he had talked his way out of a speeding ticket; that was no surprise, he was suave.

“And I got an extra cookie at the coffee shop by accident!” Charlie piped up, looking pleased with herself. She took a long drink of her milkshake before offering you the straw. You laughed, waving her off, gesturing at your water. “Party pooper.”

Dean pointed at you and you sat up straighter, “And Y/N is having a good day too. Getting flowers.”

“Aw, did Cas send you flowers?” Charlie exclaimed teasingly. She was only poking fun and normally that would be okay, but Sam’s gaze was burning into you. Charlie did not know better, how could she? You had not told her the specifics of your time at Austin, specifically who you had had the relationships with.

Tara cocked her head in curiosity. “Cas?”

“Her man,” Charlie informed her, and you wanted to melt into the ground.

“You move fast,” Dean chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. He was giving you a knowing look before shooting a quick one at Sam. He brought his glass to his lips, taking a drink, looking amused.

Him and Sam must be closer than you initially thought. There was no mistaking he knew about you and Sam with the way he was acting.

Stumbling, you opened your mouth to say something, but you were having trouble gathering yourself. For better or worse, Charlie was having no problem.

“Oh, he’s not new, don’t worry. Y/N isn’t foolish,” Charlie told Dean, coming to your defense.

“No, no. We’ve known each other for years, actually,” you said, finally finding a steady voice.

Sam’s nose twitched as he cleared his throat. The food came interrupting the conversation for a few moments, giving you time to breath. But not for long.

“He’s got a bar,” Charlie intoned, digging into her fries. “Real good bar food too.”

“Is that so?” Sam asked, looking at you pointedly. You nodded, faking a small smile.

“It’s a dive bar,” you explained and then wondered why you felt you needed to downplay Castiel’s place. Who cares if it was a dive or a high-end bar? It was his and it was special to you.

Scoffing loudly, Charlie said, “It’s a hell of a lot of fun is what it is. Heyyy!” She clapped her hands and you already saw the words forming. Your stomach tightened, wanting to slap your hand over her mouth. “Since we are supposed to be going out next week, maybe instead of that other place, we could go to Cas’ place! That would be cool. The drinks aren’t badly priced and I am honestly sick of sushi restaurants. Evelyn can eat it – sorry, Tara – because she’s gotten to choose the last couple places!”

There were murmurs of agreements around the table, as well as chuckles shared at Charlie’s expense of her lack of a filter.

“Yeah, maybe. It’d be nice to see where you set your roots down, Y/N. You’re missed in Austin,” Sam commented, taking a sip of his water.

You were sure you were.

Shrugging, smiling around the table, you said, “I am sure Cas won’t complain about the business.”

“Of course not, I’ll be there,” Charlie chirped, drawing another chorus of laughs.

<> <> <>

It had taken everything in you for the rest of the day to keep yourself together knowing Sam was so close. You tensed every time someone knocked on your door, let alone walked by. He had not popped in after lunch, much to your relief. But still, you had spent all afternoon waiting for him to appear in front of your desk, peering down at you, making you feel small.

That first time when he had ignored the rules should have been the moment you walked away. But you had not; you had let him make it up to you. And he did.

Until it happened again. And he told you he would make it up to once more.

He had managed to begin wedging himself into your life outside the bedroom. He talked you up at parties, told people you were planning on going for more education – something you had flippantly mentioned and he latched onto it, insisting that that was the right path for you. Whispers fell on you as he passed about your outfit, encouraging you to wear more dresses because that was more suitable, and it was pleasing to him to see you walk by. Whispers about how many calories were in the tenders and fries you had ordered along with a few others from a local restaurant for lunch.

Sam talked about you coming back after school and taking a leadership position. He talked about your future, like he was in charge of shaping it himself. There was no mistake he was plotting to get you firmly in his clutches, mold you into the perfect little wife for himself.

Educated, pretty, and good in the bedroom.

As soon as you had heard about the opening back home, you had jumped on the opportunity. You had asked Jerry to keep it under wraps that you had applied, praying he had no idea about the relationship between you and Sam. When he agreed, you assumed he had not, and you had been relieved. Seeing the look on Sam’s face when you were clearing out your office was worth it. He had cornered you and you told him with more bravery than you thought you possessed that the other office had a better position, and you were leaving that night. You had planned it out to be able to escape from the city, so he did not have an opportunity to try to persuade you to stay by showing up at your place.

He could not cause a scene in the office and you were able to slip out the door and away.

If only he had just stayed in Austin.

<> <> <>

You slapped a twenty on the counter in front of Castiel, plopping into the bar stool. “Double. Please.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Castiel leaned forward, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

Shrugging, you said, “Nothing. I just need a stiff one. Quickly.”

He studied you for a few moments before taking the twenty and moving back hesitantly. He fetched you the drink and you exchanged a hello with a regular that passed by. You had gone home, thrown your bag on the couch and come downstairs immediately to the bar still in your work attire. There was no wonder why Castiel seemed confused and concerned about your demeanor.

When he placed it in front of you, you gave a quick, ‘Cheers’ before downing half the drink. When you came up for air, you exhaled deeply, closing your eyes, feeling the drink move down.

Opening your eyes again, you saw Castiel down the bar topping off the other patron’s drinks before whispering something to the cook, Raphael, who had come out. Raphael nodded at him and Castiel came back towards you.

“Come on for a minute,” Castiel said, beckoning you with two fingers. You opened your mouth to protest, but he said, “Bring your drink if you need to. To the back.”

Reluctantly, you followed him, drink in hand.

He led you to the back room and closed the door behind the pair of you. He turned on his heel and asked, “Alright. Cut the shit. What’s wrong?” You again opened your mouth, but he held up his hand. “And don’t feed me bullshit, Y/N. Be honest.”

Castiel was not going to let it go until you told him. Maybe it was just better to get it off your chest now rather than hold it in. You did promise yourself you were going to do better by the two of you this time around and keeping something like this from him was not going to serve you well in the long run.

You wet your lips. “Do… do you remember that guy I told you about?”

Castiel looked confused for a moment. “Which…?”

“The one who… who didn’t, you know, listen to me? With the safe words?”

It was hard to get it out.

Realization dawned on Castiel’s face. He straightened up, staring you down. “Yes. Why?”

“He’s here!” you blurted, your hands shaking, holding tightly to your glass. Castiel cocked his head, his forehead creasing. “He moved here. To the office, I mean.”

“Wait, what?” Castiel asked, stepping closer.

“He’s working on a project here.”

“He was an ex coworker?”

“Yes. One of the junior partners. One of my superiors.”

Castiel looked in disbelief for a moment before he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Christ, Y/N. Really?”

Defending yourself, you snapped, “I didn’t ask him to come here!”

“No—That’s not it,” Castiel sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You don’t get involved with coworkers. Especially your bosses!”

“You are really going to chastise me right now?”

“Fuck. No. I’m sorry. Just…” Castiel trailed off, hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

You took the silence as an opportunity to take another long gulp off your drink.

“How long is he gonna be there?” Castiel asked after a few moments.

“I’m not sure,” you told him honestly. “Projects vary. This one is a big one. He is thankfully working more so with Dean and not just me directly.” You took another drink. “But they wanna come here. To the bar.” Castiel looked at you expectantly and you explained, “Well, Charlie – and she didn’t mean to because she has no idea what happened, believe me – suggested everyone come here sometime after work. And Tara agreed. And of course Sam did because he knows about you now and he is gonna wanna–”

“Sam?”

“That’s his name.”

“You hadn’t said it yet. And what is exactly gonna wanna do?”

Throwing your hand out at him, you said, “To see you. Size you up.” Castiel cocked an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “You know how people are when they wanna see their competition.”

Castiel closed the space between the two of you and he asked seriously, “Am I competition?”

Realizing how that must have sounded, you quickly said, “Of course not! I left Austin for a reason.” Castiel did not look convinced and you grasped his hand tightly. “Seriously. I almost threw up when I saw him. And not in a good way! No excitement there. Just… dread, I guess.”

He was quiet for a few moments before saying firmly, “You should tell your boss.” You started to shake your head and he cut in roughly, “Why? Why would you not if you are not feeling safe?”

The absolute last thing you wanted to do was rehash anything that happened with Sam with anyone else other than Castiel. Not right now or maybe ever. Who would believe you in that company anyway? Sam was a golden boy, loved by everyone and a superstar at his work. Trying to talk to someone, especially your boss, about what had happened could cost you your job.

“I don’t want to,” you said thickly, tears forming. “I don’t wanna talk to anyone else about it. I just… wanna forget it.”

“You can’t.”

“I know. But I want to try to. He’ll be gone soon enough and…” you exhaled shakily, squeezing Castiel’s hand once more and he returned the gesture. “I can get back to normal after that.”

Nodding knowingly, Castiel enveloped you to him, holding you close.

“I’ll kick his ass if he tries anything,” He told you quietly.

You laughed, letting out some tension. “I know. I know you would, Cas.”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas

[katymacsupernatural]

The Company Christmas Party

Dean Winchester x Reader

Written For: Twelve Days of Ficmas hosted by @negans-lucille-tblr​ and @the-minus-four​

Day 7 Christmas Work Party

Warnings: A little angst

Taking the offered beer, you sat down beside Rachel, sighing heavily. “Why did I let you talk me into this again?”

She sipped at her martini, eying the room. “Because it’s our work’s Christmas party. And they treat us like shit the rest of the year, so it’s worth racking up a hefty bar tab for them to pay.” 

You watched as your boss, Brian, danced what seemed to be a salsa on the floor, his toupee barely staying in place. You hated everyone here, everyone except Rachel, and wanted to be home. Dressed in your comfy pajamas, watching another sappy Hallmark Christmas movie on TV. “But we hate these people,” you muttered. “And I had a nice six-pack of beer back at my place.” 

“Yum, beer,” Rachel made a face before slyly waving at Don from accounting who stood in the corner. “Listen, I know you’re not the party girl, but I needed you here. As my wingman. I think tonight’s the night I’m going to do it. I’m going to make a move on Don.” 

You had known it was coming. They had been making eyes at each other for weeks now, and you just wanted it over. So you smiled at her, raising your beer. “I’m going to go freshen up, and then I’ll do it. You might be heading home by yourself tonight.”

“Go get him, tiger,” You answered, taking a healthy swig of your beer as she headed down the hallway, leaving you to carefully watch Fred, who had always had a thing for you. But he was ten years your senior with greasy hair and a home in his Mother’s basement. 

When minutes ticked by and your beer became empty, you began to wonder where Rachel had taken off to. Don was still in the corner, glancing at his watch. Brian had started a congo line, and Fred was making his way over to you. You quickly decided to head after your friend, heading down the hallway, checking your phone as you turned right.

Your momentum stopped as you ran into something, someone tall and strong. Your phone fell to the floor as you struggled to stay on your feet. “Whoa, are you okay?” A deep baritone voice exclaimed, grabbing you by the upper arm, pulling you back against the offending chest that had you knocked you down to begin with. 

“What the…,” you muttered, your gaze traveling up the long expanse of flannel to a stubbled chin, to the plumpest lips you had ever seen. Past those lips was a strong nose, and the most mesmerizing pair of green eyes you had ever seen. “Who are you?” 

“The name’s Dean,” he answered. “And where were you off to in such a rush?”

You could see another man, even taller, standing behind this one, along with a slightly shorter man in a trench coat who was squinting furiously at you. “I’m trying to find my friend. But I don’t recognize you guys. What are you guys doing here at our Christmas party?” 

The tallest man sighed. “Is your friend about five foot six? With reddish-brown hair and wearing a shiny green dress?”

You nodded enthusiastically, still wondering how these men exactly were. “You’ve seen her?”

The one called Dean, still holding you by the arm, gestured to the other two before pulling you into an empty room. A couple of seats were against the wall, and he pushed on your shoulder until you sat down. “I hate to say this, but your friends dead.”

“Not funny,” you muttered, wishing you had stayed back at the table. Fred seemed to be the lesser of two evils right now. 

The tallest man came forward. “I’m Sam. That’s my brother Dean, and our friend Cas. We found your friend, laying Dead in front of the bathroom.”

“I need to see for myself,” you insisted, standing up and pushing past Dean to the door. In a couple of steps, your heart shattered as their words came true. She lay there, blood pooling underneath her, her eyes glassy and left open. “No,” you whispered, your legs shaking and you started to sink to the ground.

“I got you,” Dean said from behind you, catching you before you could fall. “I wish you didn’t have to see her that way.”

The pain had you turning into Dean’s chest, his arms surprisingly wrapping around yours, comforting you. “Who did this?” You whispered, knowing you would be forever haunted by what you had just seen. “Who would do this? Rachel was harmless!” 

“It wasn’t human,” Cas announced, catching your interest. “We think it might have been djinn.”

“What the hell?” You exclaimed. “First my friend is killed, and you tell me it’s some sort of monster.” You backed away from Dean. “Exactly what are you doing here anyway?”

Dean held up his hands, backing away slowly. “It’s not what you think. The three of us, we hunt monsters. We’ve been hunting down this Djinn, and it led us here. A little too  late for your friend, I’m sorry to say.”

You wanted to laugh in their faces, say they were crazy and run away. But the look in their eyes, the way they handled this, and the fact that you had always wondered had you staying put, intrigued. And also wanting to avenge your friend's death. “What is a Djinn anyways?”

“You believe us?” Sam exclaimed, surprised. 

“I don’t not believe you,” you answered. “But I need more information.”

Dean lowered his hands. “A Djinn is a genie. Kind of like in Aladdin, but a lot more dangerous and they don’t exactly grant wishes. Normally they don’t kill their victims right away, but I think this one is a little more deranged.”

“A deranged genie,” you repeated, wondering how stupid you were being when a man ran past behind the three men, his face covered in blue lines. Blood smeared his clothes, and he winked at you before disappearing from sight. “I just saw him!” 

At once all three men’s attitudes changed. Blades were pulled from pockets and sleeves, and Sam and Cas ran after the Djinn while Dean stayed with you. “Stay with me? I can keep you safe.”

You nodded. Giving one more pained glance at your coworker and friend, you let Dean tug you down the hallway. You just hoped that you could help take down this Djinn that took your friend from you.

Dean kept your hand in his, holding a wicked looking blade in the other one as he raced down the hallway. Twists and turns, but the Djinn had vanished. “Stay here,” he whispered, guiding you into a tiny little alcove, hidden in shadows. “Don’t come out for anyone.” 

He left, and you crouched down your heart racing. Your bland Christmas party turning into something heartbreaking and fearful, but exciting with the mysterious Dean and his brother and friend. 

Seconds ticked by, your heart beating loud enough you were sure anyone could hear. “Y/N!” Dean’s voice called out, and while you knew you should stay where you were, you knew Dean would keep you safe. 

Staying to the wall, you turned left, where his voice had come from. “Y/N, come quick!” He exclaimed, and you rounded the corner, running face to face with the Djinn. “So easy,” he mimicked Dean’s voice once again. You opened your mouth to scream, but he pressed his finger to your temple and you slid into darkness.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82​ @acreativelydifferentlove​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @a-girl-who-loves-disney​ @akshi8278​  @bebravekeeponfighting  @bi-danvers0​ @brindz30​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @cap-just-said-language​ @colette2537​   @deansgirl215​  @flamencodiva​ @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @just-another-winchester​ @karouwinchester​ @keikoraventeller  @krys198478​ @librarygeekery​ @magssteenkamp​ @misspygmypie​ @mlovesstories​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​  @mrspeacem1nusone​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @ria132love​ @ruprecht0420​     @sortaathief​ @superseejay721517​ @squirrelnotsam​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @torn-and-frayed​ @tricksterdean​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​ @woodworthti666​

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[justjessame]

Dr. Tali Sullivan Chapter 32

Our new routine, now that I was home and being watched for ANY sign that our baby was about to make his grand debut, was pretty damn amazing. Harvey never really took vacation time before we met, and he had stockpiles of it along with his own parental leave, so he and I revelled in our time together with Abigail. Aside from the papers that my students sent that needed to be graded, and the reports he had to file, most of our days were spent sitting together, inside or on the porch, while Abi explored under our careful watch.

Letters and gifts kept coming from John, and Mary I suspected, and each one was tucked carefully away for Abi to deal with when the time came. Her big brothers checked in almost daily, and listening to them try to carry on full conversations with her and hold her attention for longer and longer became one of my favorite parts of the day.

Harvey would let them know any updates on me and our impending arrival, then I would get to say goodbye and promise that we’d let them know when the baby came. Castiel was on standby, fearful that he wouldn’t be called to stand with us when I gave birth for a second time. And Rowena and Crowley were on pins and needles as well. Only my parents were taking it in stride.

“There’s no point in worrying,” Mom reminded Harvey as he was going over his checklist for the mad dash to the hospital when the time came. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t forget the most important part.”

Harvey nodded and replied with, “having a fully gassed up car and her go bag.”

Mom and I shared a look, trying not to laugh. “Or,” she offered, getting him to look up from his list, “maybe, Tali?”

He blanched, realizing that I wasn’t on the list, apparently. “It’s kind of hard to give birth without the actual mother around, babe.” And that did it, Mom and I laughed long and hard as my dad commiserated with my baby-daddy.

 It happened so close to the due date my doctor had first given us, that Harvey joked he should have given odds and won some money. He argued with me about taking the time to drop off Abi at my parents, fearful that I’d pop in the car, but gave in when I reminded him that it had taken hours for her to come out. Then off to the hospital, legs in stirrups, and my extended family surrounding us in the family delivery room I insisted on.

Cas held one of my hands, while Harvey had the other, and Rowena had taken her former spot at my head. Crowley, watched from the corner by my bed, and together they kept me from freaking out and giving in to the pain. Of course, that could just have been Cas and Rowena’s special help, but soon the sounds of our son’s cries were echoing through the small room. Harvey’s eyes were flush with tears as he went with the nurse to cut the cord, and Rowena was kissing my temple and telling me how good I’d done. Cas and Crowley were beaming as an angel and demon only could, having added to their roles as ‘uncles’ once more.

“Have you chosen a name?” Crowley asked, coming closer once I’d been cleaned up a bit and our little boy was cradled in my arms.

I smirked up at Harvey and saw how wide his smile had grown. “Caelum Jayson Russell,” Harvey offered, kissing the red hair that crowned the tiny head of our son.

“Caelum?” Cas’ eyes grew wide. “You’re naming him after the heavens?”

“I’ve lived through hell, Cas, only to find heaven.” I whispered, drinking in the tiny form snuggled against me. “It seemed perfect.”

“Aye,” Rowena said, her hand cupping Caelum’s head. “It is.”

  My parents came soon after, Abi in Dad’s arms and looking fit to burst with excitement. Caelum had been fed, dressed, and was wearing the tiny hat and mitts on his hands so he wouldn’t scratch himself. I watched with a smile as our daughter stared at her baby brother with the wonder only a two year old could possess.

Harvey propped her up in the soft chair near my bed, adding a pillow to her lap, and helped her hold her little brother for the first time. I watched as he knelt in front of our children, whispering to Abi about how good she was doing as a big sister, and how much Caelum loved her. She was whispering back to her daddy, mimicking his voice so the baby wouldn’t fuss, and then I felt like my heart would explode when she leaned forward and kissed his soft head.

“They’re beautiful,” Mom offered, watching my tiny family bonding nearby. She’d taken out a camera and was capturing the moment, and I realized that Dad had his phone out recording it.

 We were all home a day later. The fridge stocked with enough reheatable food so we didn’t have to worry about meals, and enough drinks and snacks on hand to make unnecessary errands avoidable. Flowers, multiple vases of flowers greeted me when we walked inside, and Harvey shrugged as my parents greeted us with Abi hot on their heels.

“It looks like a funeral home in here,” I whispered, and shut my eyes at the darkness of that joke. “Sorry. Lots of flowers.” Lame, Tali, so very lame.

Mom shook her head and helped get me settled in my regular seat on the sofa as Harvey came behind carrying Caelum. “Yes, well, everyone seemed to want to greet you with blooming flowers.” She picked up a stack of the tiny cards that must have come with the bouquets, along with larger cards and handed them to me. “I wrote which arrangement came from whom on the back of the cards.” Then she went toward the kitchen, telling us that she was making lunch.

Harvey grinned at me as I took in the pile. “Let’s see who loves you so much, sweetheart.”

I had one from Dean, one from Sam, Crowley, Cas, and Rowena all sent an arrangement each, although Ro’s was lavender and chamomile to help keep us calm and serene with our new bundle. John and Mary had sent a card, which I dutifully handed to Harvey to share. I had one from my parents, one from the college, a few from the businesses I’d become a frequent face in. Abi’s daycare had sent us a card, as had Harvey’s boss and some of his coworkers. The amount of well wishes was something new for me, since Abi’s birth had been so secretive. Yet, even John and Mary’s made me feel warmth.

Abi came back in and crawled onto the couch with us, smiling as I pulled her onto my lap. “I missed you, princess,” I offered, kissing her forehead. “Are you happy that we’re home?”

She giggled as her daddy tweaked her tiny nose and she gently reached out and touched her little brother’s bright hair. “No more?”

I was confused, but Harvey just chuckled. “No more what, Abi?”

“Babies,” she answered, staring up at me so solemnly that I had to fight my own laugh from coming out. “Just us?”

Biting my lip and feeling Harvey’s own mirth vibrate against my side, I nodded. “Yes, Abi, just us. No more babies,” I shook my head and smiled as Harvey’s mouth touched my neck.

“Just practice from here on out,” he murmured against my skin as I felt the curve of his smile.

[angelstrenchcoat-67]

Our Song: It Must Have Been Love

Pairing: AU Dean x reader, Eventual Cas x reader

Warnings: None

Series Summary: The Lafitte and the Winchesters have known each other since little kids. As they grew, so did the love between the youngest Lafitte and the oldest Winchester. But not everything is a fairy tale, promises get broken and hearts break. Until a pair of dreamy blue eyes come in the picture.

Author’s Note: This story is co written by the lovely @mypassionsarenysins who has the best ideas ever. Every chapter has a different song as a name.

PART 2

"No, I am not paying that stupid fee" I groan as Jess holds the door for me to walk in. "Because you called to cancel three months ago, Mom"

"What happened?" Jess asks me as we walk to the elevator. 

"The venue called mom to notify that we have to pay a cancellation fee since we didn't cancel a month before the date" I explain to her before bringing the phone back to my ear. "But we did, mom even cancelled three months before the date."

"Sweetheart" My mom sighs at the other line of the phone. "I didn't cancel when you told me because I thought that you and Dean were going to get through the problems"

"Oh my God, mom" I laugh sarcastically as Jess leans in to press the 11 button. "I told you that Dean and I were over, that there was not going to be a wedding. I asked you with time, if you could cancel the venue since you knew the owners. I asked you just for one thing and you still couldn't do that for me"

"Y/N baby-"

"No, mom. You either find a way to not pay that fee or you pay it yourself because this is not on me. I had enough with all of this stupid wedding and canceling and receiving calls asking why we are not getting married. So you fix this" I bark, harder than I intended as the elevator doors open. "I have to go. Call me when you are done making me feel miserable about canceling my wedding"

"Don't you think that was a little hard?" Jess mutters softly as we walk towards the receptionist. 

"If they gave me a dollar for every time my mom has called me to try to convince me to get back with Dean, I would have enough money to pay for that stupid cancellation fee" I roll my eyes, remembering the time she called me sobbing after I sold my dress. "If she only knew..."

"Well, if only you told us what happened, it would be easier to understand" She gives me a side eye before turning to Hellen. "Hi, can you tell Sam we are here?"

"Sure, Ms. Moore" Hellen gives us a warm smile before picking up the phone. "Mr. Winches- Sam, Ms. Moore and Ms. Lafitte are here"

"Funny how we both should be Mrs. Winchester by now" I huff, turning around to walk over to the empty couch. 

"Y/N" Jess bites her bottom lip. "I'm really sorry. I don't know what happened but I'm sorry" 

"It's okay. Joking about it is my coping mechanism" I giver her a thin line smile as she takes the seat next to me. "As for Sam, I don't know what he is waiting to get on his knee"

"He is very busy with the new office and everything that is going on" She shrugs but I know that this actually affects her more than she leads on. "I can wait"

"Well, if he takes too long, we can marry each other" I grin, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. "I do look really nice in a wedding dress"

"My ladies" Sam interrupts as he appears through his door, closing his suit jacket. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, we are just really hungry" Jess reassures him before walking over to kiss him. "Ready to go?"

"Almost, I have to sort some things with my coworker first" Sam explains before turning over to Hellen. "Can you please phone Mr. Novak for me?"

"Sure" She nods before picking up the phone. Sam turns to us as he rests his hips at the side of Hellen's desk. 

"So where do you want to go?" He raises his eyebrow before wrapping an arm around Jess's waistline. 

"Anywhere that has good margaritas" I grin, resting my back on the couch. 

"A little too early for drinks don't you think?" Sam chuckles but Jess elbows him softly, it's something she started doing whenever she knew I was having a bad day since the news of my broken engagement. 

"It's happy hour somewhere, Samantha" I roll my eyes before standing up as the door from across the room opens. I don't know what is going on but soon I find myself drowning in a blue gaze that takes over the room. It's almost like those ocean eyes have a spell on me because I feel all the thoughts going away from my mind. Then my eyes notice a smile that is almost blinding and like a warning of danger, my heart starts pumping really fast in my chest. 

"Hey Castiel" Sam pushes himself off the desk, extending his hand to shake it with the blue eyed man that could perfectly pass as an angel. "You've met my girlfriend before, Jess and this one is my best friend Y/N"

"Hi" He grabs Jess hand before turning to me, since I'm too far away, he just nods at my direction, a dimply smile sending shivers down my spine. "Pleasure" You sure as hell can give me that. No no no, I did not just think that. Bad Y/N, bad!

"So, the new files for de DeVile case just came in and I went through all of them so I just wanted to ask you if you can double check them?" Sam says as he opens a file in front of the blue eyed-god.

Jess moves closer to me to whisper in my ear "Isn't he kinda cute?" She giggles before giving the pair another glance. "And he seems to be more interested in you than on that paper"

I look up from my feet only for my eyes to find the dreamy blue gaze again. His eyes linger in my for a couple of seconds before moving them back to whatever Sam is pointing at. 

"Perfect, I’ll look into them later on" Castiel nods at Sam, grabbing the file in his hands. "I'm just going out for lunch now so I’ll do it when I get back"

"Oh, we are going for lunch, too" Jess chirps and before I can stop her, she is speaking again. "Do you want to join us"

"I don’t want to intrude" Castiel answers but turns his eyes quickly to me, as if he is waiting for my reaction. 

"Nonsense" Sam waves him off. "You are coming with us"

___

"Table for four, please" Sam asks politely at the waitress so he nods before grabbing four menus from the stand. 

"Follow me" He guides us through the restaurant until we reach the balcony and at the end of the hall there's an empty table waiting for us. "I'll be right back to get your orders"

Jess and Sam sit next to each other so I move to sit on the chair across from Jess but before I can reach it, Cas is already pulling the chair, waiting for me to sit on it.

"Thank you" I give him a small smile but he returns his dashing one which causes my cheeks to heat up. 

"No problem" He nods before taking the seat next to me. "So, Sam told me you two work together" 

I know he is talking to both of us but I can't help but notice how he looks at me, as if he is hoping I am the one to answer. 

"We both work at the same hospital, yes" I look back at Jess but she seems to be way to focused on the menu in her hands. "We are opening a bakery together with another friend, tho"

"That sounds great" Cas turns his body slightly so he is basically facing me. "You are going to have to invite me to the opening"

"We still have a couple of months until that but I promise I'll invite you" I find myself turning my body to his direction, too.

"And how did you meet them?" Cas tilts his head towards the couple, who seem to be deep in a conversation of their own.

"Sam and I go way back. We met when his family moved to the house next door, we basically grew up with each other" I explain to him, avoiding the fact that I used to be Sam's sister in law. "And Jess and I met at Stanford"

"Wait, you went to Stanford?" He frowns so I just nod. "I was there with Sam and I don't remember seeing you"

"Stanford is really big, and even if you saw me, you probably don't remember" I shrug, not really minding it. It's not like I had many friends, I just had Sam and Jess. 

"If I had seen you, I would remember" He flicks his tongue, moving his eyes back to the menu just in time before my cheeks betray me.

"Do you guys know what you are getting?" Sam asks us as I run my eyes through the list of dishes. 

"Yeah, I think I'm ready" Cas runs his finger along his jaw before looking at me. "How about you?"

I just say yes before bringing the glass of water up to my lips because I cannot trust myself to say anything else.

The rest of the lunch goes on rather smoothly, even though every once in a while I catch Cas with the corner or my eyes as he steals a glance towards me. I can tell Jess notices this too because everytime she looks at me, she either sends me a wink or wiggles her eyebrows.

"Y/N, you need to go back to the office to pick up your car, right?" Sam asks me as he retrieves his card from the receipt book. He insisted on paying since this was like the celebration of his new job. 

"Yes, I have to drive Jess to the apartment before work" We live close so whenever we have plans togother, we usually take on car. 

"Let's go then" Sam stands up, helping Jess out of her chair. 

Castiel extends his arm to me to help me out, causing my insides to flip. Like I said, this has DANGER written all over it.

___

"And did you see how he kept looking at her, even when you were trying to talk about work?" Jess giggles as she pulls the duvet over her body. "And how she blushed everytime he caught her staring back at him?"

"Yes! It was like I was trying to talk with the wall. And Y/N was doing th worst job at hiding it" Sam chuckles as he jumps on the bed next to Jess. "It's so weird, tho"

"Why?" Jess frowns, turning on her side.

"I'm used to seeing that look on Y/N when she looks at Dean" Sam clears his throat. "When Dean called me to tell me that the wedding was off, I thought it was going to be a temporary thing you know, like they were going to get through whatever was happening"

"We all did" Jess mutters, biting the inside of her cheek. "I don't know what happened but I can tell that it really messed Y/N up. She tries to pretend like she is over it, like it doesn't hurt her anymore. But I'm her best friend, I know her more than I know myself, she is still struggling"

"I've barely heard from Dean since the news came and Y/N refuses to talk about it so I guess we just have to wait until they decide to speak up" Sam tugs his hair behind his ears. "Dean is my brother but Y/N, she is also like my sister and I just want to see them happy, even if it's not with one another"

___

"Hey, little girl" I grin as Riot greets me at the door. When Dean moved out, Sam asked me if I could take care of her because he wasn't allowed to have dogs in their new apartment. I know he did it more so that I wouldn't be alone, tho. "Are you hungry?"

She just wags her tail excitedly before running off to her food bowl. "I'll take that as a yes"

After filling her water and food bowl, I open the back door in case she wants to go to her personal bathroom. I throw my bag to the couch but the amounts of cushions cause it to fall to the floor but my lazy ass decides to ignore it. I walk up the stairs, ready to jump in the shower to wash the tiredness away from my body but before I can reach the bathroom door, the house phone goes off.

"Riot, can you get that?" I shout back but I only get a bark back. "We have to compromise, Riot! I give you food and you do all the things I hate"

I pick up the phone to see that is an unknown number. "You lost your phone again, Benny?"

"Uh, it's me" Dean's raspy voice sends a cold shiver down my entire body. "Please don't hang up"

"What do you want?" My voice breaks as I try to push the words out of my mouth.

"I-I.. I don't know what I'm doing" He cries, the sounds of the city echoing behind him. "I just need you"

"Dean, you are drunk" I swallow down, sitting at the edge of my bed. "You need to go home"

"You are my home" He sobs and I feel a sharp pain in my chest.

"No, Dean" I shake my head as I feel the tears running down my face. "You don't get to tell me that when there's a pregnant woman waiting for you to get back to her"

"I don't want her, I just want you" He grunts. "I know I made a mistake but I do't think I can live without you, I don't want to have to live without you"

"Go home, Dean" I repeat myself, biting my tongue as I look back at his empty side of the bed. 

"No, not until you forgive me" He begs, his quiet sobs stinging me.

"Where are you?" I ask him, standing up to walk to the stairs. "I'll come and get you"

"Are you gonna forgive me?" He asks me with a hint of hope in his voice.

"Where are you, Dean? And don't make me repeat myself" I huff as I reach the first floor, Riot running to meet me.

"I'm at Clark's" He mutters as I pick up my bag from the floor and I reach for Riot's leash, deciding to take her with me.

After driving for like 15 minutes with Riot constantly barking at the cars that pass by, I pull over at Clark's. I spot him even though he is standing in the dark. This is Dean who we are walking about, the guy I loved my entire life. I could find him even with my eyes closed.

He walks over to my car, opening the door to the passanger seat. Riot immediately sticks her head out,waiting for Dean to pet her.

"Hey, pretty girl" He smiles down at her as I start to pull away. I can feel when he moves his eyes to me, his hand still on Riot's head. "Y/N-"

"Where do you want me to take you?" I ask him, ignoring whatever he has to say.

"Lisa and I had a fight so I cannot go there" He mutters, rolling down his window.

"Why? You cheated on her, too?" I ask sarcastically, although I wouldn't be surprised if he did. 

"Can we please just talk this through?" He tries to reach for my hand but I keep my grip tight on the steering wheel.

"I am not doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing it for you parents and for Sam because I don't want them to see you like this" My jaw tightens as the words fly out of my mouth. "Because, even though you don't deserve it, I still have some respect for you"

"I-"

"No, you are going to shut up the entire way home and you are going to sleep on the couch and by the time I wake up tomorrow, you'll be gone" I bark as I feel the warm tears wetting my face. "And you are going to do as I say because that's the least you can do, that's the least I deserve"

___

"Do you know when he'll be back?" I whine as I rest my chin over Hellen's desk.

"He didn't say, Ms. Lafitte" She looks at me apologetically, not really knowing what to do with me as I am a mess in the middle of Sam's office.

"Hellen, do you know if Mrs. Harvey called?" I stand up straighter when Castiel appears at his door, his eyes glued to the files in his hands. He looks up before taking a double look at me, realizing I am there. "Oh, Y/N, I'm sorry. How are you?"

"I've been worse" I sniff, pulling my bag closer to myself.

"Is everything okay?" He frowns when he notices my puffy red eyes. 

"I was just looking for Sam, don't worry" I shake my head, taking a couple of steps to the elevator. 

"Do you want to wait for him inside my office?" He asks me, worry covering his eyes.

"I can see you have a lot in your hands right now, I don't want to cause you any trouble" I try to smile but I know he can see that I'm not okay.

"Hellen, cancel my appointments for later and if anyone calls just let them know I'll call later. And please fax this to Mr. Hill" Cas sets the papers on her desk before turning to me. "C'mon, I have some tea"

"I think I'm gonna need something stronger than that" I try to laugh, bringing my hands to my face to dry the couple of tears that dared to escape my eyes.

"I have bourbon, too" He grins, opening the door to guide me in. Before Cas closes the door, I catch a glimpse of Hellen's grin.

Cas's office is really similiar to Sam but his furniture is black instead of brown and his couch has red and white cushions, unlike Sam's that are more on the green side. I move around awkwardly, like a just entered a den of iniquity.

"But really, tea or whiskey?" Cas asks as he stands near a mini fridge at the end of the room.

"Tea is fine" I don't think I can trust myself around Cas and alcohol.

"I'll put the water to boil then" Cas replies, turning around to sort the things out. "So do you want to talk about-"

"I was engaged to Sam's brother" I blurt out, not really thinking it through. I notice how Cas's back tenses before turning around. "And then he cheated on me"

"I'm so sorry, Y/N" He bites the side of his lip, walking over to sit next to me. 

"It was three months ago and I thought that I was done hurting, that I was finally closing this chapter of my life" I swallow down the sob that threatens to leave my lips. "But then he called me yesterday and he was drunk and-and I-"

And I can't hold it anymore because next thing I know, Cas's hands are on my back, comforting me as I cry my feelings out. I try to stop myself from leaning into Cas's arms but his warmth is stronger than my will so I let his arms take me.

"Did he do anything to you?" Cas asks me as I hide my head in the crook of his neck.

"No, he is not like that" I shake my head slightly. "It's just that seeing him again... It brought all the pain back. And Sam doesn't know why we broke up, no one knows actually so I've been bottling up everything"

"Why?" He pulls back to look me in the eyes, a frown marking his forehead.

"Dean is Sam's hero, his big brother. I don't want to ruin the image he has of Dean. Same goes with his parents, and mine love him and I don't want them to hate him" I explain to him, pulling away when I realize how close we are. "I'm so sorry, we just met yesterday and I'm bombarding you with all of my problems"

"Hey, it's okay" Cas's voice comes out like a whisper as he tugs a hair strand behind my ear, his knuckles barely touching my cheek. "I don't like seeing you like this and if there's anything I can do to help, I'll do it. You don't deserve to be feeling this or to have someone treat you like this. I just met you and I can already tell how special you are"

"Thank you" I sniff, placing my hand over his to give it a light squeeze before pulling it away. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Anything" He shakes his head rapidly as the boiler makes a sound indicating that the water is done. 

"Don't mention this to Sam, I mean, don't tell him what Dean did" I look down at my hand, touching the space where my ring used to be.

"I don't think it's your job to make Dean look good" He sighs but then gives me a side smile. "But I promise you that I won't tell him anything. This is not my story to tell"

"Thanks, Cas" I suddenly get the urge to hug him and for some reason, I let myself do it. It's almost like he was waiting for me to do it because he meets me half way, his chin tucking my head under his neck. "This really means a lot to me"

"I'm glad a could help you, really" He speaks against my head, his lips soflty resting over my hair.

The next minutes go by quickly after Cas manages to get some laughs out of me. Suddenly it's like I never felt miserable in the first place, Cas has that effect, I guess. 

"Call me if you need anything, Y/N" Cas opens the door for me as the elevator opens. Sam comes out with his brief case in one hand. 

"Y/N?" Sam frowns when he looks up at both of us. "If I had known you were here, I would have come earlier"

"It's okay" I smile at him before looking back slightly at Cas. "I had good company"

"I'm happy you think that" Cas grins down at me, coughing when he notices the funny look Sam is giving him. 

"Well, I should get going" I look between both men, Hellen holding back a giggle. "Thanks again Cas. Sam, you owe me lunch for keeping waiting"

"Friday?" Sam asks me as I call the elevator.

"You betcha" I grin at him before stepping inside. I turn to Cas, giving him one last smile. "Mr. Novak"

"Ms. Lafitte" He grins back at me before the doors close.

___

"What was that all about?" Sam raises one eyebrow at Cas.

"Can we go in your office?" He asks Sam, ignoring his question. 

"Sure" Sam pushes himself off Hellen's desk as Cas meets him half away. "Is it something about the case?"

"No" Cas shakes his head as they both step into Sam's office. "It's about Y/N"

"What happened? Is everything okay?" Sam doesn't even try to hide the worry in his voice. 

"I like her, Sam" Cas grins almost to himself, looking down at the floor. "And it's weird because I literally met her less than 24 hours ago but it's just... I can't explain, I just know that I like her"

"Trust me, you are not good at hiding it" Sam chuckles, sitting down on the couch across from Castiel. "Jess and I noticed it yesterday"

"Sorry" Cas laughs before turning his expression a little more serious. "But I, um, she mentioned she was dating your brother"

"Oh, yes" Sam breaths out, scratching the back of his neck. "They were together for a really long time"

"Is this weird? Me talking about her?" Cas asks Sam, a little more nervous than he intended.

"It's okay, I mean, I know that Y/N is having a hard time with everything and I just want to see her happy" Sam adds. "And you are my best friend so that's also good"

"I know she is still recovering from the break up but I was thinking of asking her out but I don't want to scare her" Cas explains to Sam. "That's the last thing I want to do"

"I think you should just give her the option, you never know what she might say" Sam encourages him, standing up to pat him on the shoulder. "Shoot your shot, man"

___

"Is it 8 already?" I groan sitting down next to Jess. "I'm exhausted and I still have another surgery to assist on"

"Well at least you end up at 8. My shift ends at 10 tonight" She replies before bringing her water bottle up to her lip.

"We should-"

My pager goes off before I can finish the sentence. "Looks like I'm needed at reception"

"Good luck" Jess keeps her eyes closed as I walk away. "I'll probably be here sleeping if you need me"

I head down the stairs to reach the main level where the receptionist is waiting for me. "You rang?"

"There's something for you" Charlie smiles as she points to a huge flower arrangement. "Someone has got herself a lover"

"Shut up" I roll my eyes, already knowing they are probably from Dean as his way of apologizing. 

I pick them up, a white envelope stuck between some of the roses. I realize that the handwritting doesn't not belong to Dean so I open it up.

Hope you are having a beautiful day, and if not, I hope that this makes it better.

- Castiel

"So, who is it?" Charlie asks curiously, trying to catch a glimpse of the letter.

"Can I use the phone?" I ignore her question, biting my bottom lip. 

"Sure" She hands me the phone before turning to her computer, realizing that I'm not telling her anything.

Realizing that I don't have Cas' phone, I dial the office's number, waiting for Hellen to pick up. "Hi, Hellen. This is Y/N"

"Oh, hi Ms. Lafitte" She greets me. "Would you like me to get Mr. Winchester on the phone?"

"Uh, no. Actually I was wondering if Mr. Novak was there" I play with the phone's cord.

"Oh, yes. Give me a couple of seconds" She replies before the typical hold song plays.

"Y/N?" Cas voices makes my insides jump. 

"I got your gift" I try to hold back the middle schooler giggle. "You didn't have to"

"I wanted to" I can tell he is grining against the phone. "So, are you having a good day?"

"I am, now" I don't mean to sound as intense as I do but it's too late now. "I-"

"I want to take you out for dinner, if you let me of course" He stops all the thoughts going through my mind. "You don't have to answer right now, just think about it, okay?"

I hold the phone closer to my ear, my hands shaking around it. "Okay"

"As much as I enjoy talking to you, I gotta go" He speaks again after a couple of seconds. "Let me know what you decide. Have a great rest of the day, Ms. Lafitte"

"Mr. Novak" I breath out before I hang up, my heart threatning to jump out of my chest.

______________________________________________________

I'm so excited for this story honestly! Sorry it took me so long. Hope you all like it.

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[rambling-at-midnight]

False Image: Part 2

At this point, you’re pretty sure the universe hates you.

You don’t know what you did to piss off fate, but it seems like everywhere you turn, there’s one of the Winchesters, or some appendage of them—Bobby, Jo, Gabe, and Cas don’t have the last name ‘Winchester’ but they’re all connected in some way.

At least none of your coworkers know Sam and Dean. From what you’ve seen of the boys’ fans, if someone does know them, they’d never stop talking about them. You’re surprised you haven’t fallen to what you’ve started to call the Winchester virus—yet.

You’ve never seen such a close-knit group of people and it’s really sweet, how much they seem to care for each other, but they’re always talking about Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean this, Sam and Dean that, Sam and Dean saved kittens from a house fire yesterday, this morning they saved one of their colleague’s lives.

Not that they aren’t great, because they are. And you’re glad they’re saving kittens’ lives, because you love kittens, and you’re glad nobody’s dying in local fires, but you’ve got a problem.

You blush.

A lot.

At a lot of things, like having to speak in front of small and large groups of people, you saying something dumb to someone you don’t really know, someone asking you a question you don’t know the answer to, someone teasing you, someone questioning you in general, lying, and so much more.

Basically, if no one looked at you, everything would be peachy.

And for some reason you don’t really want to know, the mere mention of Sam freakin’ Winchester makes you red-hot like the firetrucks he rides in.

Oh, and did you forget to mention, you blushing so much makes you embarrassed, but the more embarrassed you are, the more you blush?

So, it’s either you start wearing an unholy amount of makeup to stop from looking like a tomato every time someone mentions Sam’s name—and jeez, are the boys, like, local celebrities or something? Everyone knows them—or you, like, get over this weird crush thing. You’ve not spent an hour in his presence, so how could you be so flustered over even his name ?

At least he’s not one of your patients. You’d probably catch fire if he came around and you had to sit in a closed-off room with him for a half hour.

Good thing he’s a firefighter, you think and chuckle aloud.

“What?” Your secretary and first friend in this town, Charlie Bradbury, asks without taking her eyes off her computer screen. You don’t know what she’s looking at; it’s all a bunch of black and white gibberish on the display.

“Sorry.” You shake your head and stow your phone in your coat pocket. “Just… thinking of a funny scene from a TV show I watched last night.” You can feel the heat rising up your cheeks and pray she isn’t looking at you. Charlie rarely takes her eyes off her computer screen, especially because she works another job while being your secretary. It’s not a lot of work, so she also works for the government in hacking into people’s electronic stuff. You’re not very good at all that stuff. Thank God she is.

“Hey, remind me who’s coming today?”

Charlie rapidly clicks the mouse, minimizing the gibberish screen and pulling up multiple files before finding the right one. She recites, “Brutus Crowley—” You smile at that. “Missy Walker, Dagger Chambers, Lola Banes, and Bailey Hanscum. Garth is taking care of all the other patients. Speaking of—” Charlie checks her watch. “He’s cutting it close again.”

“Cut him some slack, he’s an excited newlywed.” You sigh. “I think it’s sweet.”

Charlie pushes away from her computer and wheels over to you. “What’s that sigh for?”

“What sigh?” You look away and pick up your file for the day just to have something to do.

Charlie exaggerates a sigh and repeats, “‘I think it’s sweet.’ What’s that about?” She gasps. “Is there someone? A boy?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“No!” You crinkle your nose as if disgusted, but really you’re trying not to smile at the mental image of Sam that pops up in your head.

“A girl! I like girls, too, I’m not judging.”

“Speaking of, you need to bring Kara around sometime! You guys are still together, right?”

“Yes, we are, you would know if we weren’t, and you’re changing the subject.” Charlie puts her hands together prayer-style and regards you with squinted eyes.

You start to get red and look away, pretending to shuffle through the case files. It’s just a checkup for Brutus, but Missy’s been refusing food. And Dagger—

“You like someone.” Charlie gasps. “You don’t like Dean, do you? You’ve been talking about him a lot. You know he’s with Cas, right?” She grimaces. As if you’d ever be a homewrecker like that.

You pull a face. “No! Ew! I don’t like Dean—wait, you know Dean? And I haven’t been talking about him, like, at all!”

Charlie laughs. “Hey, look, as your closest friend, whenever you mention a potential love interest, I notice. It’s taken you long enough to get over Brady. You were talking about the Winchesters, especially more recently, and well… even I can admit they are smoking . And the tone of voice you used when you were talking about them… Besides, who doesn’t know Dean? Everyone knows Dean and—” Charlie’s mouth drops open. “Sam! Oh my God, you like Sam !”

“You do?”

You and Charlie turn at the sound of Garth’s voice. He shuts the back door and hangs up his coat and briefcase without taking his eyes off you.

“Hey, Garth!” you say loudly, trying to convey that you’re going to kill Charlie with your eyes. “How’s the wife?”

“She’s great. You like Sam?” he asks again, like you hadn’t heard him ask the first time. “Wow! I love Sam! I bet you guys will be great together!”

“No, I really—I really don’t ,” you insist. “You probably don’t even know the Sam we’re talking about—”

“Well, Winchester, duh.” Garth smiles and chuckles. “Are there any other Sams in the town?”

“Um, yes, three others, and Charlie’s just being stupid and projecting her happy lovey-dovey feels onto me. I’m focused on my work now. I don’t have time for distractions.”

“Y/N, you’re getting red,” Garth points out in a sing-song voice and picks up a sheet of paper from Charlie’s desk. Of course, that only makes you redder. “Oh, hey! Mrs. MacLeod is visiting with Leo today! I love Leo. He’s my favorite snake.”

“I think he’s our only snake,” Charlie muses, finally distracted, and you breathe a sigh of relief and check your watch.

“Oh! We’re opening in one minute! Is everything set up?”

“Y/N, relax. Even if things aren’t ready, the only person scheduled exactly for 9 is Crowley, and he literally could not care less.”

“Speak of the devil,” you say while poking your head out of the employee’s room. Crowley stands in front of the glass doors with Brutus at his side. The enormous Neapolitan Mastiff sits at his feet, perfectly obedient as always.

You mouth ‘one moment’ to Crowley, who rolls his eyes (you blush) and duck back into the room. “He’s here. Where are the keys?”

Charlie tosses them to you. “Did you know, Asa always puts them on the coat rack when he’s finished with the night shift? It took me forever to find them the first time and we were fifteen minutes late to open…” She continues to speak to Garth, who listens intently while preparing himself some coffee, and you welcome Crowley and his dog in with a large, genuine smile. Crowley is definitely an acquired taste and so is Brutus, but they’re both sweethearts once you get to know them.

“How are you today, Crowley?”

“I’m perfectly well, Y/N,” he responds in his dry British accent. “How are you?”

“I’m all right,” you reply. “A little stressed because of the move, but I’m excited too. And how is Brutus doing?” You crouch down to the dog’s level and scratch his head. “Just the checkup, huh?”

“That is correct. You are satisfied with the help you received through my company, though, aren’t you?”

“Oh, Mr. Asmodeus was lovely,” you assure him. “Packing up is just a hassle. You never know how much you own until you have to box it all up, right?”

Crowley laughs, probably only out of courtesy, but that’s one of the reasons why you like him. He’s always perfectly polite and courteous. You would think he’s only being nice to you because he’s nice to everyone (and that doubt does still cross your mind at times) but he’s taken to calling you Bird, and Charlie tells you he only calls people animals when he’s especially fond of them.

“You know, I almost wish Brutus would get sick more often,” you remark off-handedly. “I hardly ever see him, do I, boy?” You pat his head and lead him by his collar to the scale. “Not that I’d like to see him sick, though,” you add hastily.

“No offense taken, Bird,” Crowley assures you. “I did hear something about a training center for dogs…”

“I guess word has gotten around,” you say while writing down Brutus’ weight. “I mean, it is a training center and Brutus is, obviously, an angel. The sentiment is kind, though.”

“Wouldn’t it help to have another dog along to set an example?” Crowley asks.

You frown and tap your pen against your chin. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Perfect.” Crowley straightens his already-straight suit. “Then you’ll send me the schedule?”

“Y-yes.” Feeling yourself get redder, you change the topic. “Brutus has only gained a tenth of a pound since we’ve last seen him, so that aspect is fine.” You give the dog a treat, one of the many stowed in the pockets in your coat, and wink at Crowley. “Off to a private room, then.”

“Heel, boy,” Crowley commands and they follow after you.

“Now, I don’t suppose any of the answers from last year have changed?” you ask while listening to Brutus’ chest with your stethoscope.

Crowley settles himself into a chair with a regal dignity you didn’t think possible for a mere human. “Well, as the town grows, I become busier and busier, but I have hired a dog walker to take Brutus on his regular walks, and then I obviously exercise him in the park while I eat my lunch. Apart from that, nothing has changed.”

You mark that down on your clipboard. “Oh, I forgot to ask—did you bring in the feces we asked for?”

Crowley flourishes a Tupperware container full of Brutus’ poop that he’d pulled seemingly out of nowhere.

“Perfect, I’ll have Garth go over that immediately.” You stick your head out of the room and call, “Garth! We got poop !”

“That is a lot of poop,” Garth comments as he takes the container from you.

“Brutus is a big dog,” you reply. “Make sure you wash it out well, all right?”

Brutus seems perfectly healthy, so you send the two men off a few treats lighter and with Crowley’s number in your pocket. You have no idea where Crowley put the Tupperware container after you gave it back to him, but that’s just Crowley for you.

The rest of the day is a breeze. Gordon Walker was probably more worried than he needed to be, since his cat only has a small cold, but you sent them away with medication. Krissy Chambers’ bunny, Dagger, had a UTI.

You had a small break after that and got to hold Leo during his wellness examination and talk with Crowley’s mother, Rowena. You don’t know how she looks so young, considering her son is at least 45.

After that you got to meet Lola Banes, Alicia Banes’ new white rat. It was just a wellness examination for him as well, but he wasn’t exactly friendly. And Donna Hanscum’s energetic cocker spaniel, Bailey, has fleas.

At the end of the day, you sit slumped in the employee’s room, sipping out of a coffee. It’ll keep you up tonight, but at this point you’re too tired to make it back to your apartment. You need the caffeine.

“Long day, huh?” Charlie spins around in her chair once, a blur too fast for you to make eye contact with, before she gets back to typing.

You nod and heave a sigh. “I just need to get on a good sleeping schedule again, that’s all.”

“You’ll be back to yourself once the move is over.”

“God, I hope so.”

“Hey, you wanna head home now?” Charlie stands up from her computer and cracks her neck. “Garth and I can handle cleanup, or even Asa and whoever he works the ER with. You’ve earned a good night’s sleep.” Charlie takes the coffee cup out of your hands. “You won’t be able to sleep if you drink this.”

“I won’t be able to drive back if I don’t drink it,” you correct and grab for the coffee cup. All that happens is burning-hot coffee slops over the edge and you both snatch your hands away at the same time. The cup smashes on the floor and you hiss, shaking your hand.

“Fuck,” you both say at the same time, staring at the smashed cup on the ground.

“This is why we can’t have nice things, Charlie,” you immediately joke. “Hey, at least I’m a medical professional. I know how to bandage burns.”

“You know how to do everything,” Charlie grumbles as you wrap up her hand. “You should work the ER too, sometimes. Asa had to call Garth in because some cat was having troubles that he didn’t recognize. You’re the boss. The boss should be doing the hard work.”

“Yeah, Charlie, I’d sure love to work 24/7,” you say sarcastically. “I work the ER on Saturdays. Sundays are my off days.”

“I’ll clean up the mess,” she says, ignoring your sarcasm. “You go home.”

You start to walk away but stop in the doorway. “Hey, Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you—forget it.”

“No, what?”

“I’ll get back to you after I ask Garth about it,” you evade, turning red again. You don’t want Charlie to know anything about it. At least Garth is moderately subtle. Charlie would probably punch Gordon in the face, and he hasn’t even done anything.

Garth is just finishing up with someone’s dog when you knock on his door.

“Bye, Mrs. O’Connor!” he calls cheerily. “Have a nice day!”

“You too, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she responds.

“Hey, Y/N,” Garth greets, turning around to grab a Clorox wipe. “Buddy really sheds a lot. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you could take Missy Walker from now on?” You hold your breath as your face turns red.

“Why?”

“I don’t really like her.”

“What?” Garth laughs. His back is still turned and you��re grateful. You’re blushing hard right now. “Missy’s super sweet and you love cats. What’s really up, Y/N?”

“Nothing!” Your shoulder slips off the doorframe and you stumble. “Nothing, really, Garth. I just—she only comes in once in a while and most of the time I’m really busy and Krissy and Lee had to wait a long time while I was with Missy.” You take Missy’s file out from behind your back and shove it at him. “If it’s not any trouble…”

Bemused, Garth takes the papers and skims over them. “If you really don’t want to, Y/N, then sure, but—”

“Perfect! I’ll tell Charlie. Thanks, Garth!” You call, already out the door and down the hall so he can’t change his mind.

Charlie’s just finished cleaning up the spill when you hurl yourself into the room. “Garth’s going to be taking care of Missy from now on, all right?”

“Huh?”

“Garth agreed to take on Missy Walker from now on because I’ve got so many other patients,” you say slower and avoid where she’s crouching as you walk across the floor to grab a few coffee K cups for your one at home.

“Any reason why?”

“I felt super rushed today,” you fib and hang up your coat in the closet. “Oh, can you hand me a ‘Clean’ sticker? I didn’t get peed on or anything today.”

Charlie hands you the sticker you’d asked for so Asa won’t put it in the wash unnecessarily. You stick it carefully onto the shoulder of your coat and shut the closet door.

“What time is it?” you wonder while checking your watch. It’s 5:34. You’re running a full hour ahead of schedule.

“Bye, Y/N,” Charlie calls after you as you shrug on your real coat and exit the clinic through the back door.

Since you’re turned back to yell “Bye!” you don’t notice the large form in the doorway and hit it full-speed.

“Sorry!” you squeak, taking a step back to look at the person’s face.

Asa grins at you. “Where’s the fire?”

“I drank some coffee,” you admit. “Just now.” You grin and bounce on the balls of your feet. “Good luck tonight, A!”

“See you, Y/N!” he calls after you as you hurry past him. Hopefully no dogs get hit by cars tonight. He’d love a nice, quiet night.

During work, you’d forgotten about your annoying crush and terrible luck, but the second you get into your car it all comes rushing back. You’re running a full hour early—will you see Sam when he’s coming home tonight?

You can’t help the rush of adrenaline that floods through you at the thought.

God, you really do like Sam, don’t you? That’s embarrassing. How do you make it stop?

You turn on your car and a blast of cold air slaps you in the face. It doesn’t warm up until you pull into the parking lot of the apartment building, and you roll your eyes. The car’s moderately old. You’ll have to get a new one, but not for a while.

You’d called it—Sam is in the elevator when the doors open, and you both step back with surprise.

“Sorry,” he immediately says. “Normally no one else is on the elevator at this time. You get off early?”

“Yeah,” you reply. Surprising yourself and Sam, you keep the conversation going by asking, “Were there any fires today?”

Sam shakes his head. “We cleaned up the trucks, mostly. Dean and Cas both got in trouble for making a mess in the vending machine room, but—” He stops talking and you look at him with surprise, but he’s looking down.

You’d reached for the elevator button with your bandaged hand. Sam’s eyes don’t lift from it as he asks, “What happened to your hand?” Is it just you, or does he sound… angry? Why would he be angry?

“I burnt it, actually,” you respond, torn between hiding the point of conversation so Sam will get back to talking about Cas and Dean and whatever they did because the more Sam looks at you the more you blush, and acting nonchalant about the whole thing so Sam doesn’t think you’re a wimp. “Charlie tried to take my coffee mug when it was still hot. Really, really hot. I didn’t think coffee could get hot enough to burn people, but Garth likes his drinks especially hot so I think he adjusted the machine somehow.” You stop your rambling and suck in a breath. “It’s really not a big deal,” you add as if that’ll make you seem tougher when in reality you’d just admitted you’d bandaged up your hand after spilling hot coffee on it.

“Oh. I actually heard something about that a while ago. Some woman sued McDonald’s for serving her coffee that gave her serious burns and she got compensation because McDonald’s apparently knew their coffee was dangerous and was serving it at a dangerous temperature on purpose,” Sam rambles and you frown. For some reason you’re having a serious case of deja vu, and you instinctively flinch, imagining that something just lunged for you. Why would something lunge for you?

You clear your throat after a moment of silence and prompt, “What did Cas and Dean do in the vending machine?”

Sam looks away from your hand and then at you. Dimples appear in his cheeks (you want to swoon; he has dimples?! ) as he chuckles. “They were having an indoor picnic for a date since Dean’s hours are all screwy at the moment.”

“That’s sweet,” you say softly, imagining you and Sam having a picnic inside because one of you is too busy working to have seen each other properly. When you realize what you’d been imagining, you blush and look away.

How is Sam Winchester so goddamn beautiful?

“I thought it was corny,” Sam admits. “Probably because he’s my brother.”

You duck your head. To spare you from an awkward silence, the elevator doors finally open and the two of you practically sprint to your rooms.

You heave out a sigh as you lean against your closed apartment door. You’re a mess.

Crookshanks trills at you from his spot on the counter, delighted that he’s getting treats earlier than he normally does.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you mutter, pushing yourself off the door to him. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been looking at the ground so you hadn’t noticed the liquid on the floor as well as the glass.

Your foot slips out from underneath you and you cry out as you fall back. Your hands brace your fall, but your bandaged hand smarts. You curse loudly as you roll over, shaking out your sore hand. A drop of liquid hits your face. Your fingers come away red when you touch it. There are broken glass shards sticking out of the heel of your hand and blood wells up from them quickly and stains the bandages on your hand red.

You get up carefully, minding the liquid and glass and cradle your hurt hand so as not to get blood everywhere as you pad to the sink. A steady stream of curses fall from your mouth. Crookshanks swipes at you when you walk past him without giving him treats, but you don’t even bother to humor him.

Loud knocking at the door makes you jump. “Y/N? Are you all right?” It’s Sam. Oh, so he’s conscientious as well as beautiful? There’s got to be something wrong with him. No one can be that perfect.

“I’m fine!” You call back. “My damn cat—”

“Do you need help?”

You survey the scene: you, with a bleeding and burnt hand, water and glass on the floor, Crookshanks sniffing at the crime scene—

You yelp. “Crookshanks! Get away from that! Just a second, Sam! Sorry!”

You want to wrap a towel around your hand so you don’t get blood everywhere but that would push the glass shards deeper into your skin so you just lunge for your cat and scoop him up with your good hand. You toss him into your bedroom and slam the door shut so he doesn’t hurt himself before opening up the door.

Sam takes in the drops of blood on your cheek, collarbone, and shirt, and finds the source immediately. “What happened?” he asks, carefully taking your hand by the wrist and leading you to the kitchen sink, being mindful of the mess in the hallway. You almost slip again on a drop of your own blood but he holds you up. The only thing you can think about is how embarrassed you are, and how impressed you are that he can literally hold you up with one hand without any struggle.

“My dumbass cat knocked over the cup I left out and I slipped on the water and cut my hand,” you grumble, embarrassment making your cheeks flaming. “This is just not my day, I guess.”

“That’s why you should get a dog,” Sam jokes.

“Yeah, I will, once I move,” you say, immediately brightening at the thought. “I hope Crookshanks gets along with it.”

“What kind of dog are you going to get?” Sam asks. He puts your hand over the sink and hunches down. His broad shoulders keep you from seeing what he’s doing.

Your hand is immediately the most sensitive part of your body. You feel every twitch of his fingers as they touch yours.

You wince as your hand stings and instinctively try to bring it closer to your body. Sam’s hands don’t let your hand twitch. He’s so strong.

You hate that you sound like a teenage girl with a celebrity crush.

“What are you—”

“I’m trying to get the glass out of your hand and distract you at the same time.”

“How do you know how to do that?” You’re genuinely interested; you’d thought that you would have to patch yourself up.

“Well…” Sam pauses and you wince as he gets another piece of glass from your skin. How his large fingers can be so gentle and precise, you don’t know. “My dad liked to leave beer bottles all around the house in precarious positions. Me and my brother got good at getting glass out of skin. We were pretty clumsy kids.”

It sounds like a lie, but you let it slide. It’s not like you two are close enough to be sharing family secrets.

“But back to the dog you want,” Sam says. “Describe your ideal dog.”

“Um…” You bite your lip as you stare at his muscular back and broad shoulders. “I really like—” Your voice turns into a squeak as he pulls what feels to be a particularly large shard out of your hand. “I really like big dogs, you know? So maybe a Briard—they’re really obedient, or a Neapolitan Mastiff like Brutus, Mr. Crowley’s dog. I would really like a Portugese Water dog, though. When I was younger I had a Labradoodle but she never liked the water and I really want a dog that likes to swim. My family has a lake that I own now—”

“Done.” Sam lets you go and the first thing you feel is disappointment, and then surprise. You hadn’t expected to get so distracted you wouldn’t feel the pain. You’d been so distracted you’d started to babble.

“Thanks.” You grin at him. “Can you grab the first-aid kit? It’s in that cabinet.” You point with your good hand. It’s in the only cabinet you can reach without getting on your tiptoes.

Sam hands it to you. You stick your bad hand under cool water from the faucet and pick out everything you’ll need to bandage yourself up with your other hand.

Once you’re all bandaged up, you turn around to see that Sam had cleaned up the mess on the floor.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you say, staring at the ground. You’re not quite sure what to say to Sam, the perfect gentleman.

“It really wasn’t any trouble,” he says gently, smiling down at you. The dimples hit you full-blast again.

You don’t have a response for that, so you just stare at him, and the smile slowly drops off Sam’s face as he takes a step closer to you. “Y/N—”

Your cat interrupts with a howl behind the door as he scratches it. You both look away with heated faces and you almost trip as you skirt around Sam to open the door and let him out. Crookshanks, ever an oblivious fuck, just beeps at you indignantly for locking him up and jumps onto the counter for treats.

“Thanks again, Sam,” you say with your back turned, an obvious dismissal. “If you ever need anything, let me know.”

He sighs. You don’t know why (you think you do, but there’s no way). “You too, Y/N.”

You don’t turn around until you hear the door open and close. Then you turn and slump against the counter. You shouldn’t feel this way about Sam, he’s your brother…

You frown and raise your hand to your temple. Where did that come from? Sam’s not your brother; you barely know him. You’ve been his neighbor for two years after you moved to town and only noticed him a few months ago.

You feel a headache coming on.

Crookshanks rubs his head against your arm. “I know,” you say absently to him and scratch the base of his tail. “I know. Weird.” You pick him up.

He meows, only the sound comes from behind you and not from in your arms.

You whirl, your hand flying to where you keep your gun, only there’s no gun in your waistband. You’ve never even held a gun. Why would you keep a gun in your waistband? You are crashing hard from that cup of coffee. You need to sleep.

After setting an alarm on your phone for 8 o’clock and making sure it’s plugged in and charging, you fall onto the bed. It only takes you a few minutes to fall asleep, which is a new record for you—it’s hard to relax sometimes.

For some reason you dream that Sam and Dean Winchester are standing over your sleeping form and shaking you. You wake up halfway multiple times, positive that someone actually touched you, but it was either only Crookshanks or your imagination.

You scowl in your sleep as Dream-Dean and Sam beg you to do something. You would do it if you could make out what they want you to do.

Sam can’t seem to take his eyes off your lifeless form, face paler than he’s ever seen.

“I don’t understand,” Dean says. “Y/N knows what a djinn world looks like. Why won’t she wake up?”

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes

[spnbaby-67]

Perfect

Perfect

A/N  hi y'all, i’m just posting some stuff at random to help me get back into writing. Its not perfect, and not beta’d so all mistakes are mine, I’ll have a back story to this one soon, I’m working on it today. But if you have any ideas or prompts send me an ask or inbox me.  Please don’t copy and paste to other sites, reblogs, likes and comments are always welcome. Let me know if you want to see something. Thank you all so much, your amazing.

Pairing: Dean and Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel.

Warnings: none, dean being cute,

Song Choice, Perfect by Ed Sheran.

After what you considered the worst day of your life, you head out of the office thanking Chuck that it was over. Almost all of your coworkers had called out because of the flu going around catching everyone in its wake, so you had to practically run the daily routine of the office yourself. Thankfully, you being a manager knew what that consisted of. But what you didn’t expect was handling the rudest customers of your life. Man talk about wanting to punch someone, by the end of the day, you wanted to punch them all. It didn’t matter who you wanted to, you just felt the urge. But being the good person you are, you pushed that feeling way down, because you knew in the long run it would mean your job. Right now with money tight, you needed the job more than ever.

You were living with the Winchesters and dating the elder brother Dean. Even though he knew the Men of Letters had left behind money, you didn’t want to have him support you as of yet, You were independent, strong, and driven to work until you couldn’t so you gotten a job at a local call center. It was for a  company that handled incoming and outgoing calls to customers who had satellite TV and internet. Which worked out great for you, as you were able to receive free wifi and cool channels that Dean even watched. Sam loved the free WiFi and portable hot spot he took on hunts.

On days like today, you wished you stayed home. Who knew that there was so many clueless people out there that didn’t know how to work a remote control to turn there TV on? You shook your head out of the thought that started turned your day from happy to rough as you now sit in your car, waiting to calm down before driving home.

You knew you had to calm down before taking the 25 minute drive home, Dean has told you time and time again to be alert and drive safe. He never wanted you to drive home angry or upset as he knew things could happen along the way.  You take out your cell phone connect it to your wireless system you had in your car for hands free,  then text Dean to let him know your on the way home and you’ll pick up dinner on the way.  He texted you back and told you to drive safe and that he loved you. Shortly after, Sam texted you and told you what he wanted for dinner as well. After getting things together you started the engine of your car and headed towards the bunker.

Once you got home, you parked your car in the garage next to baby,  the most beautiful car ever in your eyes. You loved the long drives with Dean on your date nights, she rested there with no intentions of being moved. You ran your hand from the back of her to the front on the passengers side admiring her beauty. At times Sam had said he thought you loved baby even more dean, hence the automatic chemistry. You said goodnight to baby then headed in,

Your footsteps heavy echoed in the hunker as you came down the metal staircase alerting them you were home.  You rounded your right  hand on the rail out of habit, then stopping a moment not seeing the boys anywhere. Cautiously, you continue to the kitchen to place the bag of food on the counter. You bit your bottom lip as you moved forward to library, it felt weird like you shouldn’t be there, but at the same time you proceeded onwards. You get to the map table, looked around.  Sam’s computer was on, still on the last page he was been looking at.  You stretched out your left hand to close the lid down, you knew he would be pissed if the image burned into the screen for leaving it on in one page for  to long. You reached under the table to grab the spare gun Dean kept there for emergency or if anything shady happen with unwanted guest, to your surprise it wasn’t there.  

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself after doing a double take to make sure it wasn’t there.  You swallowed hard, slamming your fist to your forehead.   “Damn it Dean this better not be some kind of a joke.” you muttered under your breath.  

You proceeded with caution to the hallway that lead to the rooms, your heart rate picked up at every step of the way.  Your mind was going about a mile a minute wondering where they were. The closer you got to Dean’s bedroom that you shared with him, you hear voices. About to open the door, you felt a hand in your shoulder that made you jump a mile high backing into the wall, hitting your head in the process.

Turning to face to culprit, “Damn it Cas! What the hell?” You exclaimed as you looked at him rubbing the back of your head.

“Sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to scare you, but you can’t go in there.” He said in his monotone voice.

You squint your eyes at him, “What do you mean I can’t go in there? I need to make sure Dean and Sam are ok.”

“Why would they not be ok?” he asked you with confusion.

“The mood I felt when I walked into the bunker and no one greeted me when I came home. Dean’s gun missing under the map table. Cas what the hell is going on?” You stood up to him which usually works to your benefit.

The door to your bedroom opened, Sam popped out before Cas could answer, ‘It’s ok Cas, I got it.” He swallowed thickly and with nerves on end.

You turn to him, “Sam, mind telling me what is going on? I have had the most horrible day of my life at work, and all I want to do is take a hot bubble bath and relax the night away with my boyfriend. Is that too hard to ask for?”

“Um, no it isn’t. In fact, I think that’s great but,” he paused looking into the room at Dean who gave him a 3 minute warning signal.

You tried to look in but he shut the door quickly, ‘SAM! What the hell is going on, the gun from the map table is missing, the tension I felt when I walked in was weird, and now you and Cas are gaining on me and not letting me see my boyfriend. Is he ok? Is he hurt?” You tried to hold back your feelings.

“Um no,” Sam paused nervously standing there. “The gun is not there because we were cleaning them, Dean, he’s um ok… I’ll explain everything in just a moment. Please give me a couple of minutes. It’ll be explained I promise.” He shifted nervously.

You close your eyes a moment with a deep sigh, “Fine, five minutes.” you stood there waiting for your next move.

What seemed like forever, was only minutes in reality when the door opened. Sam led you inside the room, where you saw Dean standing in the middle of it. He was wearing the long sleeved red dress shirt that you so loved to see him wear, with jeans that you never seen before. Your eyes widen seeing him standing there reaching out for you.  

You noticed the room adorned  with candle light to illuminate it with just the right amount of light, to offer the romantic atmosphere he wanted. You bit your lip as you walked closer to him, looking on the ground you saw a mixture of  pink and red rose petals before you shaped in a huge heart, that he standing in. You swallowed, you knew Dean wasn’t the man to admit feelings of love or even hardly show emotions, so this was the most beautiful thing you ever seen in your life. Tears fell from your eyes as he stood there before you nervous as hell, he held out his hands to pull you closer to him.

You looked at Sam as he encouraged you to let Dean take your hand to pull you closer to him. Carefully, you stepped over the rose petals as to not mess up his hard work. Seconds later, you heard the first beat of a song you recognized. ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran that you two had danced to the first night you met at Ellen’s bar, the Roadhouse. (Well, you had to teach him how to dance) The way he held you in his arms that night, you knew then you’d be with him forever. Now a year later, he was bound to make that dream come true for you. Tears clouded your eyes as Dean began to speak to you.

“Y/N, you came into my life when I never expected someone to. You slowly began to break down the walls that I had built around my heart, because I didn’t want to let anyone in. I didn’t honestly think I deserve anyone. You know the life we lead, the ups and downs of it and the dangers we face. You stood by me when I was at my breaking point and wanted to give up. Encouraged me to fight when we we’re losing.  I know I don’t say it often, and I know that I don’t know how to express my love for you in words.” He paused and held your hands in his as he turn to face you.

“But, since I can remember the first day I met you, you took my heart away. I never want that to stop. I love you so much, and if you will have me,” he got down on one knee and pulled the purple velvet box from his pocket, opened it to reveal a beautiful ring he designed himself. “Will you marry me?” He asked you with now tears in your eyes.

Your bottom lip trembled, as you looked down at him. ‘You cupped his cheek feeling the warmth from them. “Yes Dean, I’ll marry you.”

Before you could say anything else, Dean jumped up to latch his lips to yours with a kiss that meant forever, leaving the once bad day behind. Now in the arms of the man you proudly call your fiance as he slipped the ring on your finger, dancing to the rest of the song. Holding you the same way he held you that night, with promises of many more nights like this and then some.

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[huntertales]

Part Two: Let’s Get a Few Things Straight. (We Need to Talk About Kevin S08E01)

Episode Summary: Two years have passed since the unexpected death of the reader. Sam and Dean Winchester have continued without their hunting partner, believing that she is gone forever. However an accidental run in on a college campus makes the boys wonder if someone they had lost has come back from the dead, the reader. Dean quickly realizes it’s her. But there’s one problem, she has no idea who she really is. Will the boys be able to get her memories back and figure out what happened? Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Temp. OFC x Reader) Word Count: 6,059.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Back in the day when you were still alive, Dean had this routine he used to do. This was when you were living at home with your days filled with endless research and the idea of hunting and saving the world as a passing thought of “What If?” before it disappeared for another day. Sam was at school and Dean was hunting with his dad, sometimes taking the odd job by himself if a case consumed John to the point where he wanted to work alone. Dean would always check up on you every few months to see how you were doing and if things were all right, but it wasn’t always announced.

He had this little habit of just following you around town, watching as you go on your daily routine and completing a list of errands. Get some groceries, stop at the post office, pick up a few new books of lore you found at the bookstore you didn’t have to learn about a new creature you thought you were never going to hunt. Every so often Dean would take you by surprise, pretending to come up for a visit when you were home from your running around town.

The smile on your face when you saw him always made him laugh, it was almost like a private joke with himself. More like the satisfaction of seeing how happy you got when you saw him. You had grown to enjoy living on your own. You kept yourself busy enough to pass the time, with mundane tasks one has to do as an adult, along with other things like reading about all sorts of different topics and watching a copious amount of TV to pass the time. And the research asked from the Winchesters was enough to fill your time in between when you were out of tasks for yourself. You might say you enjoyed living on your own, but it got lonely sometimes.

You admitted one night over dinner, tipsy from the wine you had been drinking as Dean nursed a beer, that you liked it when he was here. The house felt a little bit less scary. You still suffered from nightmares about the day you saw your mother’s dead corpse possessed by Azazel for the longest time. At times you wished that things were different and the brothers would be able to put their differences asides to be a family once in a while. You respected Sam’s urge to go to college and John’s unhealthy obsession with abandoning everyone to hunt down a monster.

You adapted to the Winchester’s ways of showing love and affection—Distance and communication every once in a while to make sure one another wasn’t dead.

You tried for so long to bite your tongue, that was, until you started hunting with the brothers and saw John and what kind of “bullcrap” he’d been putting you and the boys through. (Your words spoken in a fit of rage.) That's when the real Y/N started to come through. You were more tough, you spoke what was on your mind and you stood your ground on what you did and didn’t like. You were stubborn at times, but you meant well. You wanted nothing more than to hunt and do things that benefited the world from outside of your house. The more you spent on the road with the boys, the closer all of you became. You were the glue that kept the boys together. Dean desperately wanted you back more than ever to help fix things back together.

Despite the reunion with his brother that went more in a bitter direction than Dean pictured, the boys put asides their personal differences to work on the strange situation in front of them. Sam worked on finding any sort of paper trail made this Y/F/N Thompson a real person and any kind useful information they should know. Dean bruised himself most of the afternoon following this Y/F/N around from college to sitting in the college parking lot until about four when she emerged with an armful of papers tucked in one hand and the handle of a messenger bag draped over her shoulder. She seemed innocent enough as she waved at her fellow coworkers and smiled at what Dean presumed might have been a few of her students.

Y/F/N patted around her pockets for her cell phone she accidentally dropped after bumping into Dean, not realizing it was sitting in the man’s palm. He watched as she struggled for a minute or so until she gave up and got into her car, driving off to the first location. First stop was to pick up a dress in town and a few groceries, along with some other places. Seeing all of this made Dean feel for a moment like he was back into his old routine with you. But it was when Y/F/N went home when reality came crashing in like a freight train, making him realize the woman he had been following around for the past hour and a half wasn’t you. She was a complete stranger.  

Dean pulled into a rather modern suburban looking neighborhood, where every house looked the same and all the lawns were prestigious and green. It was the complete opposite of where you used to live. Ella, your mother, bought a house that was big and a little bit rundown, with a homeowner who wanted it off their hands. He remembered the times he used to be over when he was much younger, his father helping fix up things even if Ella protested such help. She wanted the place perfect for you. You thought it was home, the boys thought of it as their own as well when they were younger. It had been Sam’s first taste of normalcy. Ever since you had died they hadn’t even stepped foot back into that house, afraid of the memories it would bring back.

Dean called up Josh Carver on a whim to see if he could help figure out the situation that was going on. Josh thought along with everyone else that you were dead. However when Dean told him he saw someone exactly like you walking around and didn’t recognize him or Sam, Josh didn’t sound all that surprised. He gave the older Winchester a bit of information that helped shine some light on what might be really going on here. The night you were turned human you and Josh went to a local bar to let off some steam from the falling out you had with Cas. You admitted over a few drinks that you “wanted to be someone else for a change.”

“What I would do just to start over. Just for a little while. No knowledge of angels or demons...I want parents, I want to know what it feels like to be married. Hell, I want a mortgage.”

Dean had spent two grueling long years trying to come to terms with the fact that you were dead for good, but he could never lose hope, always trying to find some sort of way to bring you back. And then there was the constant guilt for thinking that all of this was his fault, if he had done something different maybe things would have changed the outcome. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t. There was only so much he could do. Dean hoped that this woman he had been watching all afternoon was the real Y/N. He wondered what he would have to do in order to get you to remember him.

What if that wasn’t a possibility? What if Cas had wiped your memory completely like he did to Lisa and Ben? Talk about opening up an old wound from the thought. Dean chose to make the Braden family forget about himself and the supernatural for their own protection. Now he wondered out of fear the angel, who wasn’t in his right mind at the time, had taken the liberty to do the same with you as well? Maybe the body that the boys and Bobby watched burned was the one your demon side had been using. And the real you was still out there, thinking she was someone else. And there was no way to change what Cas did.

It was sort of frustrating not having his two best friends here to help him with the situation. Dean felt another wave of guilt when he remembered Cas was still in Purgatory, and here he was getting angry about the fact that he wanted to see the angel and ask him a question about what he did two years to you. It was the Winchesters’ problem and they were going to have to deal with it, along with Kevin, who remained in the back of Dean’s mind. What the older Winchester was focused on right now was Y/F/N and figuring out who she was.

Dean focused his attention back to the woman and watched as she pulled into a fancy looking house and stepped out of the car. She was about ready to unload the thing she picked up and head inside, only he noticed someone come up from behind her, taking Y/F/N by surprise when the stranger wrapped his arms around her waist. Dean leaned forward in his seat slightly in caution, only it turned out to be some sort of “cute” thing couples do when he saw her quickly turn around to see a man that made her break out into a grin. You used to smile at Dean like that. And now you were doing it to someone else. Dean swallowed slightly, trying his hardest to stop himself from doing something he would ultimately regret.

The older Winchester watched as you wrapped your arms around a man he’d seen before in your social media pictures and others you had saved on your phone. Facebook said that you were married to this douche looking guy, Dean remembered his name was James. It hurt as he watched you lean forward and give a kiss to the man that wasn’t him. He wondered if this was how you felt around Lisa when you came back from the dead. This constant urge screaming in your head to jump up to your feet and tell Dean that Lisa was all wrong for him, it was you that knew him better than he knew himself. You were the only one for him. But you couldn’t. So you had to fight back your feelings. He didn’t know how you did it for that year.

Dean’s attention to the couple he was stalking was turned away for a moment when he heard his own phone going off. He answered the phone when he saw it was his brother, but his attention never left Y/F/N or that guy, his lips turning into a frown when he saw his grubby hands touching her body. She smiled when he said something and headed into the house with the belongings and disappeared from Dean's sight.

“So I did some digging and found some interesting stuff. Turns out there is in fact a real Y/F/N Thompson. Found her birth certificate, social security and driver’s license.” Sam said. “She’s been married to a James Thompson for the past six years. Only child of Louise and John Daily. Straight A student from middle school until high school, played soccer for most of her life and went to college at University of Michigan. She’s also a professor at the same college Channing goes to, which explains why we bumped into her there.”

Dean felt his stomach sink when he realized that you might be living a very real life and didn't have a clue about who you were anymore. "Great. You think Cas did a little too good of a job on erasing Y/N's brain and changed her completely?”

“You didn't let me finish. Here comes the weird part.” Sam said. His brother could almost picture the smile on his face from what his hacking abilities could dig up. “Y/F/N Thompson was in a car accident three months before Y/N died. She was hit on by a drunk driver. Unfortunately she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, ending up going straight through the windshield and slipped into a coma. Doctors doubted she was ever going to wake up. But, low and behold, three months later, she wakes up with no memory of the accident or injuries. Louise, her mother, claimed ‘it was a miracle from God.’”

“Let me guess, family is a church going and God fearing family.” Dean muttered. Sam scoffed, giving his brother his answer. He looked over to the window when he saw a figure pass the window before vanishing from his sight again. “When did this Y/F/N wake up?”

“3:15 A.M.”

“Wait, isn’t that when—“

“Y/N was pronounced dead? Yeah. And here comes the

weird part. All of Y/F/N’s social media was created after she woke up from the coma. The only pictures I can find on the internet look like Y/N. But I hacked into the DMV and police database to see crime scene photos of the real Y/F/N. I’ll send you a few.”

Dean took his phone away from his ear and pulled up the photos his brother had send them to give them a quick look over. He saw a woman with a barely recognizable face lying on a hospital gurney with nurses and doctors surrounding her. But he could tell straight away this wasn’t you. It was the complete opposite of you in fact—from the skin color, hair, body shape. He felt a little bit more relieved as he continued the conversation with the younger Winchester.

"Okay, so let's say Y/N's really been alive this whole time pretending to be this Y/F/N. It's an interesting theory, but we've got no way of knowing if she remembers herself." Dean said. He felt a little bit of relief when he realized that you were really alive and well after all of this time. Life always had a funny way of working. But an obstacle was in the boys' way. "I mean, we can't just knock on her front door and ask if she remembers us."

"Yeah. But I found something that might work that could get us closer to her. I’m thinking if we do this, maybe we’ll jog her memory.” Sam said. “It’s a long shot, I know, but we don’t have a lot of options left here.”  

+ + +

The next morning you were up earlier than you anticipated, and alone again. You stopped being surprised at the odd hours your husband worked from his new promotion he got a few months ago. Bad guys don’t put themselves away, and they sure don’t stop when you were trying to at least have one decent date night. You had enough things to do today from stopping back at your office to meet a student to discuss their failing grade and finish up the lecture you had planned for Tuesday’s class. And you couldn’t forget your lunch date with Melody, along with swinging by your parents house quickly to discuss your father’s surprise sixth birthday party. On top of it you still needed to find your freaking phone.

You got to work on getting ready for the day and heading to your office before ten so you had enough time to swing by your local coffee shop to get a drink to wake you up. Your student was probably going to be late as per usual. They missed three of your classes already this month and they barely handed one assignment in that didn't seem like a twelve year old wrote it. You got to your office a little after you planned and settled yourself down, not the least bit surprised to see you were alone.

You went to your desk and spent the first twenty minutes answering emails from coworkers and a few of your students. You reached for your coffee as you read through an email from a student of yours, not noticing there were two strangers lingering in the doorway. It took a soft knock on the door for you to break your concentration away from your laptop screen to see a set of two men dressed in suits, their focus on you. You gave them a small smile as you pushed yourself up to your feet, wondering if they might be lost.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” You asked them.

“Are you Y/F/N Thompson?” The shorter one of the two men spoke up first, bringing your gaze over to him. You nodded your head to answer his question. You watched as they pulled out what appeared to be badges from the inside pocket of their suit jackets, making you realize they were from the FBI. "I'm Agent Dean Rorak. And this is my partner, Agent Sam Freedman. We’re investigating the disappearance of Edna White. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Of course. Have a seat, agents. I was supposed to be meeting a student of mine, but I doubt he's going to be showing up." You gave the both of them a smile as you peered out the door slightly to see there was nobody there. You ushered the men to sit as you took your seat back to your desk, shutting your laptop and moved around some papers so it appeared that you had things somewhat together. “This is a little weird, I have to admit. I'm a little bit surprised the FBI is interested in something like this. My husband—he’s a detective—said she would come back eventually.”

"Well, we take the matters of missing people very important." Agent Rorak said. You gave him a smile as you looked in his direction when he spoke, relief crossing your expression. His partner seemed the remark was a bit out of line, he cleared his throat and gave the man a bit of a dirty look, which went unnoticed by the both of you.

"So, you're Edna White's next door neighbor, is that correct?" Agent Freedman spoke up, bringing your attention over to him. You nodded your head to answer the man’s question. “And you were the one who filed her missing?”

“She's only been gone for a few days, but I don't know where she would have left without telling anyone. Her husband died a few months after my husband and I moved into the neighborhood. She has no kids. She's seventy years old with a heart condition." You said, your voice dropping into a serious tone to show your concern. "I’m just worried about her.”

“Did she seem out of character leading up to her disappearance?" Agent Freedman asked. You gave him a bit of a confused look, wondering what he meant by that. "Was she acting more hostile or violent? Like she wanted to hurt someone?"

"No. Nothing like that. But...she was acting a bit paranoid the very last time I saw her. She was acting like someone was following her.” You said, trying to remember the best of your ability. "My husband and I are quite fond of her, she’s practically family. We went to check up on her to see if she was okay, but when we did…she freaked out when she saw my husband. And on top of it she wouldn’t believe how long it had been since we saw her last.”

“Wait,” Agent Rorak stopped you, finding a piece of your story a bit interesting. “What do you mean about her being afraid of your husband?”

“Edna’s getting older. She forgets things, and I can’t tell you how many times she locked herself out of her house. Sometimes she even thinks James is her dead husband. But it wasn’t like that.” You explained the situation a bit better for them to understand. You were about to continue on to the part of the story about what happened that got you nervous, but when you thought back to the memory, your lips stretched into a faint smile from how ridiculous it sounded. “You’re gonna laugh at what I’m going to say. It’s sort of...weird.”

“Trust us,” Agent Rorak reassured you with a slight smile as he leaned forward in his seat. “We know weird.”

“Well, uh...she claimed my husband was taken over by a ‘cloud of black smoke.’ She said she saw it the day she went missing—the day she thought it still was when we checked up on her. She was shaking.” You told them the story, waiting for one of them to crack up laughing like how James and his coworkers did. However the agents sat there with a serious expression, they seemed even a little bit disturbed by what you saw. “She kept saying that he needed to get away from her, that I needed to run. He was a ‘monster with horrendous black eyes.’ Weird, right?”

“Had Edna expressed these kind of claims before she disappeared?” Agent Freedman asked you. You thought about it for a second before shaking your head. “Has she complained about the smell of rotten eggs? Flickering lights?” “She didn’t complain, but her placed did reek of it when I went to go check up on her the day I filed the report. I thought maybe it was a gas leak and she...you know, didn’t make it out. But she wasn’t there. And all of her appliances were working just fine.” You answered the man’s questions honestly, however you felt a little silly, unsure of how this could help. “And as for as the lights go, it’s been happening for the past week or so. The entire neighborhood has been going weird. We think it’s an electric problem. They’re building a new development not far from where we live.” You noticed that the two agents seemed a little uneasy from the information that you gave them, leading you to believe they must have thought you were crazy as Edna. Agent Freedman gave you a smile as he pushed himself up to his feet, you and his partner followed. “All right. I believe that should be all. You’ve been a big help, Y/F/N. I believe that should be all.” Agent Rorak pulled out something from his pocket, you noticed it was a business card with his number printed on the front. He handed it over, “If you happen to see or hear anything—even remember anything, don’t hesitate to contact us.”

“Of course.” You agreed, examining the card for a moment before looking back up at him to give the man a reassuring smile. “Have a good day, agents. And thanks again for this. It really means a lot you’re taking this seriously.” The two men returned the gesture before they showed themselves out to the hallway so you could get back to work. Dean was just outside when he saw someone come straight out from the corner of his eye, heading straight for your office. He stepped back in time when he noticed the student you were supposed to have met fifteen minutes ago came sprinting into the room, apologizing left and right about being late. You let out a sigh and showed your discontent with his tardiness. Never less, you gestured a hand for him to sit down where Dean was just a moment ago, the both of you getting back to your business of why you were here this morning.   “Sounds like demon possession to me.” Sam said, making sure to keep his voice no higher than a whisper as he discussed the matters with his brother. “You think Crowley found out Y/N’s alive somehow? Decided to have one of his goons jump the husband just to make sure?” “Old lady sees him get possessed, freaks out and doesn’t show her face for a while. Y/N, being the good samaritan she is, checks up on her to see if she’s all right. But when she opens her mouth, demon gets afraid Y/N might start remembering so he kills Edna to keep her quiet.” Dean tried guessing what was going on here from the story you told him and the younger Winchester. He peered inside the office to see you were deep in conversation with your student, having no clue what was going on. “I’ll tell you one thing, I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

+ + +

It was the late afternoon when you finally got home from your somewhat successful meeting with your student and lunch with your friend that turned into a shopping trip to spend money of things you really didn't need. You made your way into the house and dropped the bags by the front door, deciding you would take care of them in a little while. You headed into the kitchen to grab yourself something to drink. As you made your way into the next room, you smiled when you saw a familiar face sitting at the island, drinking what smelled to be coffee.

“Hi, honey.” You greeted the man you thought you knew so well and loved, the smile across your lips grew wider as you reminisced about the night you spent with him what was hours ago. You leaned down to give him a quick peck on the lips before you went to the countertop where you smelled the freshly brewed coffee calling your name. “How was your day?” “It was just terrific.” James said. You looked over your shoulder as you gave him another smile from his answer. The man brought the coffee cup to his lips to take another drink as he watched you turn your back to him, missing the smug smirk that began to spread across his lips. You asked him what put him in such a good mood. "It's work related. You see, my boss has been bugging everyone nonstop about this...well, let’s call her a criminal who has friends in a lot of high places who tried to hide her. Real nasty bitch. And I finally found you.” You found yourself stopping midway through pouring yourself a cup of coffee when you heard a series of words coming out of your husband’s mouth that sounded awfully unlike him. You slowly looked over your shoulder to see your husband was standing on his feet now with that smug smirk on his lips that seemed permanently frozen on his face. When you looked into his eyes, you felt the grip around the coffee pot slowly slip out, the glass crashed to the countertop, breaking into tiny pieces when you saw those...eyes. The ones Edna had warned you about.

In the house next to yours, the Winchesters made true to their promise of not straying too far from where you went, however they decided to check out Edna White's house while they were, curious to see if what Dean suspected what was going on was true. The boys wandered through the home, searching for some sort of clue that you might have missed while you searched. While the house didn't show any signs of a break in or a struggle, not even a drop of blood, it didn't mean that one took place. Demons might be bastards, but they knew how to be tricky.

Dean searched in a few closets and peered down to the basement to see if he might be able to find anything. He headed into the kitchen and poked his nose around while his brother took the living room. When the older Winchester noticed a shut door he hadn't seen before, he cautiously stepped forward to open up the door, and when he did, the very thing that he had been looking for appeared, dropping at his feet. Dean let out a quiet sigh when he saw the face of one Edna White, throat slashed from ear to ear, a fine yellow powder scattered across the pantry floor.

"Sam," Dean called out his brother's name. "I found her.”

The younger Winchester stepped back into the kitchen to see the sight that he had been silently dreading to see, an old woman who had been viciously killed, probably for a while from the awful decomposing smell coming off from her body. Seeing her dead body meant one thing, what she had tried to warn you about might have been true. Sam took his gaze away from the dead body for a moment when he heard something echo in the air, it sounded like a scream. He furrowed his brow as he looked out the kitchen window. Sam noticed right away he had a perfect view of the house next door, which was yours. “James, don’t scare me like that!” You screamed on the top of your lungs, your petrified expression changed quickly into anger when you felt your skin starting to burn from the coffee you accidentally spilled on yourself at what you saw. The liquid wasn’t scolding hot, but it was still hot enough to make your skin burn, quickly making you rush to turn on the faucet sink. “God, I think I burnt myself. You’re just an ass, sometimes. You know that?” You were about to put your burnt hand underneath the cold water, but before you could, you felt someone roughly grab a hold of the tender skin, squeezing it while they turned you around. James yanked you so you were looking at him, you noticed right away that his eyes were back to normal. "Do you know how long we all thought you were dead, Y/N?” “James, let go of me.” You ordered at your husband, unsure of what was going on with him. It was like a switch in him changed. You’ve never seen him like this before. Sometimes he pulled pranks to scare you for fun, but nothing like this. All you knew was that your hand was throbbing now in pain from how hard he was holding you. You tried to get yourself free, but he only squeezed the flesh harder. “You’re hurting me.” "This hurts?" James asked you in a mockingly sympathetic tone. He roughly squeezed the burned flesh, making you let out a noise that made his smile grow wider. “Oh, baby. This is foreplay compared to what Crowley has got in store for you after what you did, Y/N.”

“Who the hell is Y/N?” You questioned the man in a shaky voice. “James, seriously. “What has gotten into you?”

"Wow. Castiel really did a good job of scrambling up your brain, didn't he? You don't recognize my kind, baby?" James wasn't making any sense here. You furrowed your brow in confusion as the throbbing pain in your wrist started to slowly weaken. When you saw your husband blink, you found yourself letting out a terrified gasp, somehow his eyes transformed into the same pair of inky black eyes that made a shiver run down your spine. "I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Hey, you ugly ass son of a bitch.” A male voice came from behind you, taking the both of you by surprise. Suddenly you felt the grip around your arm disappear, only to be replaced when James grabbed a knife from the sink, the sharpest one you owned, and pressed the blade against the hollow point of your throat.  You felt James’ arm wrap around your body, pinning your arms to your side so you wouldn’t fight back. You were too afraid to breathe from how close the knife was. Your eyes wandered over to a familiar face you saw just earlier this morning standing in your kitchen, a loaded gun pointing at your husband. It was Agent Rorak. At least, that’s who you thought it was.

“Dean Winchester. Well, what a surprise!” James greeted the hunter with a smile as he blinked, showing off the set of malevolent eyes the man knew that belonged to only a demon. “How the hell are you, man?” “Pissed off.” Dean replied. “If you know what’s good for you, I’d suggest you let her go.” The demon pretended to think about the request for a moment before he responded, “Nah. Crowley has been looking for her for a while. If I let you and Y/N run off into the sunset, my ass is on the line. And you don’t want to be on his bad side.” "Do I look like I give a rat’s ass what your piss poor king wants? I just spent a year slaughtering my way through monsters. Do you really want to me on my bad side? I'll say it again." Dean narrowed his eyes on the demon as he repeated his order one more time for him to understand. “Let her go, you son of a bitch.”

“You know, you got yourself a fine girl, Dean. Too bad she doesn’t remember you. Hell, she doesn’t remember anything. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” The man you thought to be your husband suddenly felt like a stranger. You winched when you felt him lean his head down so his lips were hovering over your ear, making you want to do just about anything to get away from him. Dean could feel his grip around the gun tighten in anger. “Took us a while to find her. But I must say, the hunt was worth the wait. I could have dragged her to Crowley the moment I jumped this meat suit, but then I thought, 'Nah. Let's stick around. See how good she's in the sack.’“ “Wow.” Dean pretended not to be fazed by what the demon said. “Do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth of yours?” “No. But I’d gladly kiss your mother’s with it.” The demon replied back with a smik. “Speak of family, where’s that brother of yours? I know if there’s one Winchester, there’s always another.”

The demon should have been careful about what he asked for. You felt the blade press closer against your neck from what unfolded next, but it barely grazed the skin before it disappeared, along with James’ hold around your body. You stumbled forwards when you suddenly heard the sound of something heavy hit the ground. Looking down to your feet, you noticed it was your husband, standing over his body was the agent you had seen earlier as well. You noticed that he was holding a knife, too. But it looked like any other one that you had ever seen before.

You felt frozen in your spot for a moment as your brain tried to comprehend what the hell just happened. Your wrist was throbbing in pain from the burn that was neglected as you realized your husband flipped a switch. He kept calling you, Y/N...he tried to kill you. You inhaled a deep breath as you slowly lifted your good hand to your throat where James had pressed a knife against. One second his eyes were black, and then they were normal. And then there was talk of demons. You furrowed you brow as you continued to stare at the dead body bleeding out on your kitchen floor. But you slowly looked away when you heard someone speak up.

"It's gonna be okay." You looked up to see that it was Dean who was speaking words of comfort as he lowered his gun. But you couldn't hear what he was saying. The only thing you could hear was your heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears. "We're not here to hurt you..."

You weren't sure who the two men were standing in your kitchen, you didn't know what the hell was going on anymore. All you knew that you suddenly felt yourself growing lightheaded. You moved one foot forward to try and take a seat somewhere before you could pass out. The logical side of you was trying to tell you to run, but another part of you felt safe. You only managed to move a single step before you felt your knees give out. You felt your vision grow black before you fell into the arms of Dean, not realizing what other mess you were about to wake up to.

[Next Part]

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[stusbunker]

What Lingers Within: Two

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Past Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Word Count: 2577

Primo Beta: @itmighthavebeenintentional

Aesthetic and beta’ing by: @thoughtslikeaminefield

Summary: A flashback and some case drama to iron out. There’s breakfast and a confession.

Warnings: Unconsciousness, a gun, man-handling, unresolved emotions

Series Masterlist

^*^*^

               “Nope.” She shook her head, hair mussed against the sheets as he leered over at her.

               “We need to leave. Move your ass.” Dean swatted the mattress, shaking her from her perch of stubbornness. 

                 She kicked away playfully, whining as she twisted to burrow into the pillows. He pounced before she was even situated, hands like magnets to her waist, pinching just so until she was shrieking. Bent in half in his arms, he had her pinned in place, her t-shirt bunched up with her belly spilling over the band of her simple gray sweats. He wasn’t sure when she’d stolen them, but they were unquestionably hers now; they looked too good on her to ever take them back.

               Before he realized it, he was giggling right along with her, out of breath and tangled together on the bed once more. She threw her thigh over his chest, straddling him and claiming temporary victory.

               “Two-point reversal,” she huffed, locking his wrists above his head.

               “You play dirty, anyone ever tell you that?” Dean teased, half-heartedly struggling against her weight.

               She made a thoughtful face. “Uh, only crybabies, why?”

               Dean slipped his right arm out under her calf and flipped her onto her side. “I’m sorry—what were you saying?”

               “We have until ten for check out?” She panted, smile dazzling as she feigned innocence.

               “Nice try.” Dean smacked her ass and held on. “Ten minutes and I’m leaving you here. Move it.”

               “You wouldn’t dare,” she mocked, pushing her thigh between his legs and grinding into him.

               “Don’t tempt me, Y/N. I mean it. I’ve got a case,” Dean warned down his nose, dimples of discontent in full effect. 

               She took full advantage, landing a sloppy kiss to his pursed lips before rolling off the bed and leaving him in the scratchy sheets alone.

^*^*^

               Dean fell asleep remembering the woman he used to know, the one who he had had to let go. A smile on his lips as he tried not to think about the reserved and shell shocked face she now wore. The one that looked at him like it was the first time. The one person he wanted back more than he’d ever admit.

^*^*^

               It was Saturday morning and after everything that happened during the week, you had allowed yourself to stay up way too late the night before. 

               Unfortunately, your internal clock decided you should still wake up at seven with little hope of returning to sleep. Begrudgingly you got dressed in warm comfort, just put together enough to not draw attention at your favorite café. 

              Outside your building a black muscle car was parked on the curb, the model name on the tip of your tongue when you spotted the guy asleep in the front seat. Embarrassed for him, you turned away only to realize who it was. Agent Berkman was camped outside in plain clothes, the implications that you were under surveillance made you start to panic. Terrified, you turned back around, scared that whoever, whatever, you saw murder your coworker was coming after you.

               Silently, you vowed to stop watching procedural cop shows.

               With only one goal on your mind, you whipped your door open and scrambled for Agent Colfax’s card on your kitchen counter. He answered on the second ring, but before you could get out why you had called everything went black; a heavy slam to your temple sending you to the abyss.

^*^*^

                “What?” Dean answered Sam’s call.

               “Dude, where are you?! She just called me freaking out and then the line went dead,” Sam snapped.

               “Sonovabitch! Fuckin’ fell asleep. I’m goin’ in. Get here when you can.” 

                 Dean didn’t wait for his brother to reply. He snatched his machete from the floor of the backseat and tucked it haphazardly in his jacket, hoping his layers would protect him from the freshly sharpened blade. 

                 Getting someone to buzz him into the building took an eternity. The little control he had left disappeared as he found her door swinging loosely from the landing. Every part of him thundered with alarm; everything he had given up to keep her safe meant nothing if something happened to her now. He pushed the guilt down and scanned the living room that ran into the kitchen.

               Her phone was on the floor beneath the island, but nothing else seemed out of place. Dean pocketed it and continued down the hall. Bathroom was empty, but as he toed the bedroom door open, he spotted her prone on the bed. Before Dean could make it the rest of the way to check her pulse, he heard a gun’s safety unhitch at his temple.

               “Where did you come from?” a condescending female voice asked.

               Dean huffed in exasperation, ducking his head before he snatched the handgun out of the woman’s hand. It wasn’t even loaded. Confused and unamused, Dean grabbed her wrist and bent it behind her back.

               “Lady, if you point a gun at me, you better know how to use it,” Dean growled. “Now what do you want with her?!”

               This woman was no vamp. Her high-end yoga pants and running top were her pathetic attempt at ninja black. She struggled against him futilely.

               Frustrated, Dean pushed her against the closet doors.

               “Why are you here, huh?” Dean’s voice dripped malice.

               “To finish the job! Little Miss Snitch over there was supposed to go down with Chase. Instead she caused a panic and the whole place was crawling with cops,” Katelyn snarled.

               “So what? The vamps were there on your dime?” Dean demanded.

               “Not exactly. Why? What’s it to you?”

               “I’m just a naturally curious guy,” Dean taunted. “Poor girl watches her coworker become someone’s lunch and suddenly her--- what? Boss? Supervisor? What are you to her, hmmm? Holds her hostage. Waiting for somebody else to do the dirty work?”

               “Well, I wasn’t gonna move her, hard enough getting her ass in here,” Katelyn spat. 

                Dean twisted her arm higher, causing her to squeal in pain.

               “Might wanna watch how you talk about her in my presence, Sweetheart.” Dean hummed in satisfaction.

               “Dean!” Sam’s voice broke through their grunting match.

               In less than twenty minutes, the local cops were walking Katelyn out of the building in cuffs. Sam, as Agent Colfax, was giving a statement to the lead detective, leaning in on their lack of professionalism with the initial investigation. Dean sat by while the paramedics looked the victim over.

               “I hate to be that guy, but do you think you could just use the salts, we’re kind of on a timeline and she hates hospitals,” he murmured.

               “And your relationship to the patient--- Agent?”

               “Well, um, you see,” Dean fumbled.

               “Old friends,” Sam broke in, pulling out his phone. 

                Dean had no idea where Sam had pulled the picture from, but it softened the look on the first responder’s face. Luckily, she seemed to be coming to all on her own.

*^*^*^

                Waking to Agent Berkman’s blurry smile seemed more a memory than a dream until you realized it was reality. 

                The paramedic descended on you briefly until the detectives stepped in for follow up questions. Through it all you felt the FBI agent watching you, hovering unlike anyone else in the room. You were grateful to be saved from an ambulance ride, not wanting to add a traumatic hospital stay to an already horrid week.

               “You should have a follow up appointment with your primary care physician. Head injuries can be serious,” the paramedic warned, the first of the swarms of people to vacate your home.

               “The crime scene people are going to be awhile, breakfast?” Agent Colfax whispered to Agent Berkman, nodding in your direction.

               The scruffy man squatted down to look you in the eyes, your attention had returned to the patch of the floor where Katelyn’s gun sat.

                “Y/N? Honey, why don’t you let us take you out for some pancakes, hmmm?”

               It was such a casual intimacy that you almost didn’t register it. Looking from him to the other agent made you pause, a growing hunch of a secret lying between them and yourself. A hidden path that you instinctively needed to see through. It made you bolder than you had felt in days. 

              With a quick glance at all the other strangers in your apartment, you whispered conspiratorially, “what’s your name?”

               “Dean.” He gave you a sad smile. “And that’s my brother, Sam.”

               You nodded, unsurprised and relieved with his honesty. You gave Sam a simple wave, earning you a sly dimple as you stood up. 

              “Okay, but when we get there--- I have some questions.”

               Dean sent Sam a look, but he only shrugged in response. You giggled at his dismay and carefully stepped around the evidence collectors in your way.

               Without batting an eye you slipped into the backseat of the massive black Chevy as the men had yet another silent conversation over the hood of the car while you settled into the dead center of the bench seat. 

               Your greasy spoon of choice was only a few blocks down and was considerably less congested than the foodie brunch place across the street. Once breakfast was served, with only the unexplained trust and slight annoyance you had found in the scruffy agent you knew now as Dean, you broached the subject of that little slip up he made back in your apartment.

              “So--- why’d you call me ‘honey’, Dean?” You watched him gape as you carefully chewed a fluffy buttery mouthful. 

               Sam chuckled over his coffee.

               “I--- didn’t mean to?” Dean tried to play it smooth.

               “And you’re not FBI,” you weren’t asking. “So, considering you saved my life, but only because you were practically stalking me...” You smirked at Sam as Dean tried to cut you off. “I need to know what’s going on. Because I don’t know you. Either of you. But, somehow, I trust you. So, don’t lie. Not anymore. Not to me.”

               Dean’s head fell back, and he muttered to the ceiling, “Cas, I swear to god...”

               Sam cleared his throat. “Those were vampires your boss hired. That’s what brought us to town. We hunt monsters.”

               “But?” you pushed.

               “But,” Dean pinched his brow. “When we realized you were the witness---.”

               Dean looked at you like he had kicked your proverbial puppy, apologetic eyes sparkling in the slanted light. For some reason you felt the shift, he was a breath away from crumbling. 

               You reached across the table and took his hand in both of yours, brushing the cheap vase and assortment of sugars with your elbow.

               “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna freak out. Well, I might, but I’ll try to reign it in,” you tried to encourage him.

               Dean’s smile was more of a grimace, and Sam spoke up, “We used to be your friends. A long time ago and the reason you don’t remember us---”

               “Is because I had an angel take your memories. Of me. Of us. To protect you from this life,” Dean rushed. “I am so sorry that you got dragged back in. If I’d known---”

               You pulled back, a single hand tented on the tabletop as you processed what they were telling you. You watched Sam adjust, avoiding eye contact with Dean who had practically jumped back from the edge now that you were no longer touching him. 

              “We weren’t friends, were we?”

               You stared at Dean, waiting for him to lie. There was no life in his gaze, but his jaw was tight. 

“No.”

               You exhaled, wiping away a tear you hadn’t meant to shed. “How long---uh, how long were we together?”

               Sam made an excuse to use the bathroom or pay the bill or invade Mars, leaving you alone with Dean and your barely touched meals.

               Internally, you dove into the past to find the holes, knowing there were gaps in your memory that you attributed to stress or depression. Dean sat up, straightened his jacket and leaned against his forearms on the edge of the table.

               “A year and some change, we lived in that shitty upper with all the plants,” Dean conceded. “Look, there were demons who would’ve done anything to get to me and the easiest way for them to do that was with you.”

               “I’m sorry, what?!” you balked. “You decided that leaving me behind, without my memories, would be the best way to save your own ass?!”

               “It wasn’t like that. They could’ve had me. They just wanted to hurt me deeper than any knife could reach. And that’s you, it’s always been you. Seeing them use you----” 

Dean ground his teeth. “You were possessed. You told me I was a terrible lay with daddy issues. You nearly gutted Sam.”

               “I? Me? As in?” You sputtered, making the Psycho knife gesture. 

Dean laughed out loud at your disbelief or the action, probably both. It was a nice sound, but that didn’t stop the tears, from either of you.

               “I did it to protect you. And I’d do it again,” Dean sighed.

               “But you’re not going to. Right? This isn’t some ruse to lure me in and fuck with my mind again?” You challenged, sitting up straighter to clock both Sam and the exit.

               “No. Even if Cas were here, I won’t do that to you now. You need to be able to protect yourself, not that there should be any more vampire hitmen in your future, but just in case,” Dean’s eyes pleaded with you. 

                You wanted to believe him, you also never felt more helpless in your entire life. You had a past you didn’t remember, monsters really do exist, and two random guys can pose as FBI agents to get whatever information or infiltration they’d like. What could you even do with all that?

               “What am I supposed to say here? Are you looking for a thank you? Or some twisted sort of forgiveness because I can’t give you that. Not when I don’t know what I lost. It wouldn’t be real.” You dropped your head into your hands which were propped on the table. “I don’t even know what real means anymore.”

               It felt like the silence would never break when Dean’s low voice cut through your paralyzing anxiety. “Look… is there somewhere you can stay tonight? Someone you trust?”

              Dean beckoned Sam back to the table, trying to come up with some sort of plan. No one wanted to send you back to the apartment where you were attacked.

              You listened to them talk about you like you weren’t there, dull-eyed and growing increasingly numb. Because partially, it was easier than continuing to argue and unearth more emotions that you couldn’t handle. But also because you felt like your choices had never amounted to anything anyway; might as well let someone else call the shots. Nothing made sense, but the probability that it would change again at any moment only added to your shaken nerves.

            Everything around you felt like it was made of sand. Dumbfounded, you waited for the next stiff breeze. 

            You didn’t speak up to ask to go home and pack a bag while you watched them clear out their motel room with practiced speed.

            The backseat of their car rocked with the calloused roads that led to your cousin’s house the next county over. You arrived at the old farmhouse just after sundown, letting Sam do all the talking before you excused yourself to the guest room for the night.

^*^*^

Series Tags: @tiggytaylor  @vicmc624 

General SPN Tags: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs  @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988@mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @wingedcatninja​

^*^*^

Read On: Chapter Three

[agent-anna]

It’s My World...No It’s Yours

Dean Winchester ~ Supernatural

Prompt: You’re just a normal person hanging out in your room, when some random stranger crashes out of your closet

Requested by: No One

Reader: Female (Could be any tbh)

Warning: Some grammar/spelling mistakes, didn’t proof read.

A/N: Honestly, I don’t know what this is. I’ve been bored lately…

=====

You thought it would be great to stay in this Friday, instead of going to the bar with your friends like you’d normally be. This time, you stayed in your room. Your fuzziest pajamas were already on, they were laying on your bed waiting and you were so happy to change into them right away.

Netflix was your go to, right away when you had plopped down on your bed with a bowl (it was a huge ass bowl) clutched tightly to your test. Quickly you turned on Supernatural this had probably been your tenth time going over the seasons again, while still staying caught up with the current television.

You hummed happily to yourself as the beginning credits of the show roll around, along with The Road So Far beginning that always made your spirits lift….or you cry, depending on which season/episode was playing at the time.

You shove some popcorn into your mouth as tears fill your eyes, this was your dreaded season. Demon Dean was around and you hated every second of it, every time you sobbed like a maniac whenever he was mentioned or shown. Don’t even get started on what would happen when your coworkers even mentioned it in the slightest.

You’re about to skip over a part in the show when a loud crash from your closet causes you to freeze up in fear, your eyes dart over to your phone that was across the room; exactly a few feet in front of the closet where someone was still making noises in it.

Your mouth goes dry as you slowly stand on shaky legs, walking towards your phone as quietly as you could. Right as your about to grab your phone, the doors are of the closet thrown open; almost as if someone were very anger. 

You shriek out of fright and quickly jump onto your bed, grabbing the first thing that you could to put between you and whoever was coming out of your closet at that moment. As the person or should you say…people come into view you slide off your bed to hide on the ground.

“This is your fault!” A deep male voice yells as you watch footsteps walk over to your bed, someone sits down as you roll underneath, trying to stay as quiet as possible as you shoved the pillow in front of yourself to try and hide as best you could. “Look at this crap, it was better the last time we were here.”

“Look Dean, I-” A new voice cuts itself off as you hear whoever was on your bed eating your popcorn.

“Someone is still here.” A third grave voice states, all the voices you recognized but you kept trying to convince yourself otherwise.

“What do you mean someone is still here, I don’t see anyone!” The first guy, who the second had called Dean, scoffs.

“Dean, who would leave popcorn like that or the TV on. And I’m pretty sure no one in their sane mind would leave their phone behind.” The second man explains.

“But Sam, I leave my phone.” The third grave voice mumbles.

“Well, that’s you. You’re an angel and angels don’t really need phones.” ‘Dean’ mumbles, your eyes watch as ‘Sam’ takes small footsteps towards your bed. You pray to Castiel and anyone who would be listening that he wouldn’t look under your bed.

It was too late to realize your mistake, Castiel was indeed in that room because soon you were met with the eyes of none other than Sam Winchester. Who offered a small smile at you as you slide back further away from him.

“Are you going to keep staring or are you going to tell us Cas was right?” Dean’s voice questions as he hops down next to his brother, his apple-green eyes meeting your sparkling E/C ones. “Well, hello there.”

“Dean.” Sam warns.

“What? I’m trying to be nice.” Dean quickly quips, earning an eye roll from both you and Sam; the brothers not missing it from you. “So, I take it you’re a fan.” 

“Oh, yeah. A fan who’s living under her/his bed like a hobbit.” You sarcastically reply.

“Sammy, can we keep her/him?” Dean demands, again earning eye rolls from you and Sam. 

“If you don’t mind coming out of here, we’re kind of lost.” Sam sighs while turning to look at you, you bite your lip out of nerves while looking down at the ground before rolling out from under your bed with a sigh. 

Both of the brothers stood up as you slowly got to your knees, taking as much time as you could as you stand as far away from them as you could get. Even though you were quite excited that the Winchesters were actually in your room, which still confused you. 

“We’re….really sorry about this.” Sam sighs, you eye all three of them. It looked like they were all in their FBI uniforms, obviously they had been doing a case before whatever had occurred happened.

“I can tell.” You mutter while gesturing to Dean, who kept licking his lips and winking in your direction.

“Dean, stop it.” Sam mutters as Dean looks at his brother as if he were doing nothing wrong.

“How did you guys get here?” You question while crossing your arms. “Chuck? Garbriel? Crowley?”

“Woah woah woah, slow down there.” Dean chuckles. 

“Well, who was it?” You impatiently question. 

“Crowley.” Castiel answers before the brothers could. “He was trying to get us out of the way, Dean here doesn’t think we’ve left.” 

“I never said that.” Dean mutters.

“Oh really? Mr. ‘We’re in our world…just in a cute girl/guys closet. I have dibs Sammy.’ Yeah Dean, that doesn’t sound like you think we’re home.” Sam sarcastically comments, you giggle while covering your mouth as Dean glares at his brother. 

“Alright, I’ll help you.” You sigh. “Just let me get dressed.”

“What? We never asked-”

“Cas, don’t even argue about it.” Sam sighs. 

“Yeah, wouldn’t want you guys getting lost in my world.” You chuckle.

[ltleflrt]

Recovery WIP featuring Tattooed!Cas, Overprotective!Dean, and Drug Addict!Sam

Sam remembers when sliding a needle into his skin hurt, but only vaguely.  The pain always faded as quickly as the high flared up inside him, wiping away everything except the calm euphoria.  Now as he presses the needle into the vein in his arm, he doesn't even flinch.  The tiny prick and the following pressure as he injects the drug into his system no longer registers as pain because his brain has connected that feeling to the first rush of joy as his blood soaks up the hit and carries it to every nerve ending.

Sometimes he thinks he could probably just poke himself with something sharp and he would get a phantom high.  It's a trick he might try if he ever becomes desperate, but it's not something he needs to worry about now.  Ruby scored some really good stuff and they're going to spend the night blitzed out of their skulls.

He sighs happily at the thought, and then grins lazily when he feels the first edge of the high sneaking through his veins.  

"See?" Ruby murmurs.  "Told you this is some grade A shit."

Sam nods and leans back into the pile of pillows they stacked on the floor in preparation for tonight's little two person party.  He watches through heavy lidded eyes as Ruby doses herself.  Her movements are smooth and efficient, and beautiful to his drug addled brain.   

Her dark hair shines in the light of the single lamp sitting on the nearby end table.  It's silky and lays over her shoulders like a flow of chocolate.  Her nearly black eyes glimmer with joy as she leans back and loosens the band around her arm.  Sam can see it when the high washes through her.  The lines around her mouth fade, and her eyes lose focus.  She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a soft, wheezing sigh.

“You look like an angel,” he murmurs through heavy lips.  They feel dry, and he pokes the tip of his tongue at them, but gives up because it takes too much concentration.

Ruby’s laugh is as soft as she looks spread out among the pillows.  “I ain’t no angel.  I think I’m the opposite of that.”

“You think you’re a demon?” he asks, confused, but unconcerned.  A strange sensation in his fingers makes him look down at his hand, and he finds that he’s running them up and down her bare shin.  Up… down… up.

His whole body feels heavy.  But good heavy.  Like he could sink into the floor, and just keep going.  Maybe he’ll fall through the earth, straight through the core, and pop out in China somewhere.  

“Maybe like I’ve got one in me.”  Ruby’s words are slurred.  Sam forgot he asked her a question until she spoke.  He looks up to find her twirling the ends of her hair between her fingers, staring at the strands like they’re something she’s never seen before.  “There’s something in me.  Something not right.”

There’s something wrong with that.  He’s not sure exactly why he thinks so.  But there can’t be anything bad in Ruby.  She’s strong, and determined.  Funny and caring.  Sassy.  Beautiful.  He can’t stand the idea that she doesn’t think she’s perfect.  

He has to concentrate to move his limbs the way he wants so that he can crawl over and stretch out beside her.  She smells like pomegranate soap and sweat, and he presses his nose against her shoulder so that he can pull more of her into his lungs.  “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

A giggle shakes her, and vibrates into him where their bodies touch.  It feels amazing.  

“Shut up, you’re high.”

The grin that tugs at Sam’s lips feels good, so he let’s it get wider.  Wow, smiling feels awesome.  “You’re high,” he retorts.  

“Whoa, you sound like your brother.  Knock that shit off.”

They both break into laughter, and it echoes strangely around them.  Or maybe it’s just that Sam doesn’t recognize the laughter as his own, even though he can feel it rumbling inside his chest.

It tapers off after a moment, and they lean further into each other.  Sam’s eyelids are heavy, so he lets them drift shut.  There’s music playing softly from the other room.  He thinks he should recognize it, but he can’t be bothered to try.  It’s nice to listen to though.  So he allows himself to drift to it’s rhythm, sometimes humming along, sometimes just listening for his own heartbeat in the thump of the base line.  

He has no idea how long he drifts because time has no meaning when you cease to care about it, but eventually Ruby shifts next to him.  When she sits up, his body is cold where she used to be pressed against him, and he let’s out a little whine.

“Shhh, baby.  Do you want another hit?”

He thinks he nods.  He must have, because she coaxes him into sitting up.  He watches as she prepares a fresh syringe.  When she turns to him expectantly, he adjusts his arm across his lap, baring the tender skin where a vein waits eagerly for the pinch of the needle again.

He barely feels it as she pricks his skin, because he’s so fascinated with the way her hair falls over her face.  His fingers are running through it before he’s conscious of ordering them to.  Maybe he didn’t.  It doesn’t matter, because he wants his fingers to be in her hair and he’s not going to complain if they end up there by themselves.  

The thought is carried through his consciousness on another wave of euphoria and his breath catches in his throat.  “I love you,” he thinks he says.

Ruby looks up at him, her dark eyes wide and shining.  Her teeth flashing in a beautiful smile.  “You must feel pretty good right now.”

Yeah, he does.  Where he felt heavy before, now he feels weightless.  Untethered from gravity.  In love.  With Ruby.  With life.  

He closes his eyes and gives himself up to it.  Let’s himself float away.

 Sammy!  Oh god, Sammy wake up!  Wake up man!

Green eyes.  Scared.

Please don’t do this.  Please, please, don’t do this to me, Sammy!

Sam blinks.  His brother’s eyes are green.

Hello yeah, send an ambulance!

Green and a little gold.  Pretty.  But Dean doesn’t like to be told he’s pretty.

Fuck, you gotta hurry!  I don’t think- I don’t- his eyes are open but-

All the girls say it behind his back though.  And some of the guys.  Sam thinks it’s hilarious.  

Hold on, Sammy, hold on.  Hold on hold on please.

His muscle car driving, leather jacket and ripped jeans wearing, and perpetually grungy brother, pretty?  Nah… he couldn’t quite see it.  Not that he’s supposed to, since they’re related and that would be gross.

He’s over here.  I checked her too, but I don’t think… I can’t tell if she’s…

A bright light fills Sam’s vision, and he flinches away from it.  It’s pure and beautiful, but it burns his eyes.  He thinks he tries to lift his hand to cover them, but nothing seems to happen.  

It’s okay, sir.  We’ve got him.  We’re going to get him to the hospital.  

The light flashes again.  God, it’s so white, so clean.  And then he sees burnished brass.  Feels fingers against his face, and neck.  He blinks, and the brass doesn’t go away.  

Eyes.  Light brown, not brass.  Sam concentrates, and sees a man he doesn’t recognize looming over him.  He looks so determined.  So full of purpose.  “Are you an angel?”

“I might be,” the man says.  He looks over his shoulder, and speaks to someone else.  But Sam can’t make out anything he says.

His voice is nice.

Sam thinks it’s pretty awesome that an angel has come to visit him.  He’ll have to tell Ruby.  He’d tell Dean, but he doubts his brother will believe him.  

There are voices, or at least he thinks there are.  Maybe it’s actually the music.

Ruby picks such great music.

He’ll have to tell her so.  Maybe later though.  

He’s tired now.  He’ll tell her when he wakes up.

Maybe later.

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

Wincing at the time on his watch, Dean rushed across the work site towards his truck, waving over his shoulder when his coworkers called goodbyes in his wake.  Normally he might hang around and chat, but tonight he'd promised to pick Sam up from his first NA meeting, and due to a late shipment of cement and an asshole boss bitching about timelines he wad running late.

The old Chevy growled to life when he twisted the key in the ignition, and his lips twitched at the sound.  It wasn't quite the same as his precious Impala, but there was no way he was bringing his baby to a construction site where her paint job would be in jeopardy.  Besides, the truck was just as dirty and beat up on the inside as it was outside, so Dean didn't worry about sitting his cement-splattered ass in the driver's seat.  Sam might complain about the dirt, but until he got his own set of wheels, he could just shut his piehole.

He drove a little too fast getting across town to the rec center where Sam's meeting was, but he was still half an hour late when he pulled up to the curb out front.  He caught sight of Sam standing just outside the doors of the building and waved.  

Sam had been speaking with a dark haired man in a trench coat when Dean pulled up and now he smiled and waved back before returning his attention to the stranger.  His face was animated with a bright smile when he talked to the man and Dean felt a twinge of envy.  Sam hadn't smiled at him like that in a long time.  The fact that Sam didn't smile much in general since his overdose didn't make Dean feel any better.

The man, whose back was turned so Dean could only see the back of his head and the indistinct shape of his shoulders under the bulk of his coat, held out a hand. Sam took it eagerly, enveloping it between both of his huge paws.  He must have said his goodbyes, because then he was bounding towards Dean's truck, long legs eating the distance quickly.  

The man turned to watch Sam go, smiling slightly, almost proudly.

Dean was far enough away that he couldn't see Trench Coat Guy very clearly, but he guessed the guy was good looking.  He narrowed his eyes, worried that Sam might be getting involved with someone so soon after Ruby.

The creak of the passenger door swinging open pulled Dean's attention away from the stranger.  He didn't even wait for Sam to swing himself into the truck before throwing a thumb in the stranger's direction.  "Who's Trench Coat Dude?"

Sam settled into the passenger seat, but leaned forward a bit to look past Dean.  He smiled and waved at the guy again as he answered.  "That's Castiel Novak.  He runs the NA meetings."

Dean glanced back at Castiel -weird fucking name, probably a creeper too with a coat like that- as he put the truck in gear.  He gave the guy a polite nod as he pulled away from the curb then turned his attention to the road.  "Oh yeah?  You two getting pretty chummy already, huh?"  

"Yeah, he's a cool guy.  Easy to talk to."

Dean made a noncommittal sound.  Other than the dude's weird name and poor choice of clothing on a hot day, Dean had no reason to dislike him.  He should be encouraging Sam to make new friends, but it made him nervous that Sam was finding them at a narcotics anonymous meeting.  Then again, who better to buddy up to than the guy in charge of the whole thing, right? It was his job to keep everyone else on the straight and narrow.

"Cool," he said with forced lightness.  It was the right response because Sam relaxed in the seat beside him.  That made it easier for Dean to relax as well and when he flashed a smile at his brother it was genuine.  "So... how about burgers to celebrate?  We'll get lettuce on yours so it looks healthy."

Sam rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched around the edges in a reluctant smile.  "Sure, fine."

-----

Dean was ready to bite someone by the time he got to leave the job site.  Everything tried to go wrong today, from tools crapping out, to late shipments, to Ash's busted arm.  And of course the boss man was bitching about deadlines the whole time.  

As he pulled out of the dirt patch used by the crew as a parking lot, Dean ground his teeth with frustration.  Off course shit like that seemed to happen every week on the days he was supposed to pick Sam up from his NA meetings.  

[wellimhavinga3outof10day]

Destiel mpreg prompt 1/3: Castiel is the father of Jack, works in a supermarket and is dating a man but doesn't love him. Dean is a mechanic, single and has a huge crush on Castiel. His brother Sam is Jack's football coach. Jack admires Dean and sometimes he copies him (like he did in the show 13x02). Castiel goes with some colleagues to a club, drinks too much and ends up to have a wild night with Dean.

Hey, nonnie!! Thank you SO MUCH for this prompt. I had a lot of fun writing this one and I’m really proud of the result and I never would have written it without this prompt. So thank you and I hope you like this! I even think I managed all of your requests?? Wow. This may be the most on-prompt thing I’ve ever written… Fair warning: This gets heavy and also I know nothing about football. And it’s like novel length  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Read on AO3

Cas shivered as he walked up to the football field. He had a hundred things going through his mind – like the fight with Parker and the bills that were overdue and the seventeen product-destroying disasters that had happened at the supermarket that morning – but he had promised Jack he’d show up for football practice. He had promised Jack seven times because, as Jack liked to point out, that was how many times Cas had broken promises to him in the last year. Sometimes Cas regretted keeping Jack – not because he didn’t love him, not because Kelly wouldn’t have wanted him to, but because he couldn’t give him everything he deserved.

           Cas tried to catch sight of Jack on the field from afar but with all the boys in helmets and pads it was impossible to tell which one was his son. Wrapping his arms tight around him in an effort to stay warm, Cas shuffled forward.

           Sam’s words floated back to him. “…can’t commit, then don’t.”

           There was a deep sigh. “It’s not about commitment.” Dean. Cas looked over at the sound of his voice and felt the familiar tug on his heartstrings, that little voice in his ear begging him to make it work. He tried to shut it down as Dean went on, “It’s about her. She’s cool, yeah. Definitely hot. But I’m not gonna move in with her.”

           Sam hummed noncommittally, giving away that he wasn’t listening. Then he stepped forward and yelled, “Larson! Show us some hustle!”

           Dean rolled his eyes and his gaze landed on Cas. He smiled. Cas tried to stop himself from smiling back but it was a little hard. Dean hadn’t shaved that morning and still looked rough and tired, like he’d only rolled out of bed a few hours ago. But he was wearing his coveralls, grease-splattered and too thin for the bitter September air. And his hair was standing straight up like it did when it got static-y and dry from being in the garage too long.

           “Hey, angel,” Dean said. “You come to see your boy play?”

           Cas rolled his eyes. The nickname had gotten old about two seconds after Dean had given it to him – back in fifth grade when Dean found out he was still an altar boy, despite being just a little too old for it. Cas stepped forward, keeping Sam in between them, and said, “Which one’s Jack?”

           Sam gestured vaguely down the field and then moved in the other direction, shouting, “That is NOT a proper tackle! Do you want to get injured?”

           Dean jerked his chin in the same direction Sam had waved. “Number 12,” he said. “Scrawny kid pushing back the tackle board like it weighs nothing.”

           Cas squinted to read the numbers but found Jack easily when he took a run at one of the heavily weighted dummies and pushed it 20 feet without struggling. He stepped back and raised his arms in the air, bringing in the applause and hollers of his teammates before he took a deep bow. Cas scoffed. “Moron.”.

           “Kid’s really gonna make the other team think twice when he hits them with all that.” Dean tilted his head back and guzzled down Coke from a can.

           Cas glanced his way. “Why the sobriety?”

           Dean flipped him off and then crushed the can against his thigh. “I’m going out tonight.”

           “With who?”

           Both men looked over, surprised, when Jack approached. He wiped the sweat off his face with a towel, a big smile on his face.

           Dean smiled back. “None of your business, twerp.”

           Jack frowned for a second and Cas almost reprimanded Dean for being mean to him – no matter what it looked like, Jack was still a kid. He could hold his own on the football field but he didn’t need Dean, his idol, insulting him openly. But then Jack bounced back – so fast Cas thought he might have imagined the hurt in his face – and said, “Come on. I’m just curious. Let me live vicariously.”

           “Don’t let him live vicariously,” Cas warned.

           Dean shot him a half smile and Cas’ heart skipped an involuntary beat. He tried to shut it down. Even standing this close to Dean was distracting – he was warm and smelled like sweat – but he’d spent too long waiting for Dean to settle down. He’d spent too long being the ignored best friend to give in to the subtle flirting now. Just because Parker was being a dick didn’t mean that Dean finally had come to his senses and realized what a catch Cas was. He hadn’t realized it in high school, or college, or when Cas was dating Kelly, or when Cas married Kelly, or after Kelly’s death, or in the sixteen years since. Cas was done with him, even if he did smell like he’d just had sex in a garage.

           “I’m grabbing drinks with an old friend,” Dean said. “Nothing scandalous.” He put his hands in his pockets and Jack tried to mimic the motion – even though his football pants had no pockets.

           “If it’s an old friend, you should invite my dad. He probably knows them.”

           Cas shot his son a look. He’d been through this before – he’d been through this too many times to count – and every time it came up, it filled him with annoyance and regret. Annoyance that Jack was still on this. Regret that he’d let Dean hang around so much, help out so much, that Jack thought of him as a de-facto dad and wouldn’t give up on him. Even though Cas had given up on Dean before Jack was born.

           Dean laughed. “Oh, no. Your dad and Charlie were only friends out of obligation.”

           “Charlie’s in town?” Cas said.

           Dean shot him a sideways look, his eyes sparkling. “What? Still bitter she tried to steal your wife?”

           “What?” Jack said at the same time Cas said, “At the wedding!”

           Dean laughed.

           Jack smiled nervously, like he wasn’t sure if laughing along would get him in trouble or not.

           “Have fun with Charlie,” Cas said, hoping he sounded like he meant it even if he didn’t. “I can’t come anyways. I have a work thing.”

           “A work thing,” Dean said, mockingly.

           “Yeah, a work thing,” Jack repeated, rolling his eyes.

           Cas shot his son a look. “Shouldn’t you be practicing?”

           Jack shrugged and took a swig from his water bottle. He didn’t make any move to leave until Sam started heading their way again, shouting, “Kline! Get your ass back on the field! What are you doing?” And then Jack was off, sprinting across the field before Sam could reach them. Sam shook his head. “What was that about?”

           “Just the usual.” Dean shrugged. “Kid’s trying to set us up again.”

           Cas felt his whole face go red and he coughed into the sleeve of his coat. He could feel Dean watching him, his eyes on him, and he wanted to die. He felt like a teenager whose crush just called them a brother. He mumbled something into his sleeve – he was pretty sure it was incoherent – and then walked off to watch Jack play some more.

           Behind him, he heard Sam say, “So you’re really gonna dump a girl over that?”

           “She wants matching keys, Sam. His and hers keys.”

Cas stood in front of the mirror tying and then retying his tie. He hadn’t even switched ties since he had first picked out the blue one but it seemed wrong somehow. Every knot was wrong, even the feel of the silk was wrong.

           “Why are you wearing a tie to this thing?” Parker asked as he walked into the bedroom. He was looking at his feet as he undid his cufflinks and then kicked off his shoes. He glanced over his shoulder at Cas. “Why are you even going to this thing?”

           “It’s a team-building exercise,” Cas said. “And I was the one who suggested it.” He pulled off the tie with a huff, feeling the fabric wring around his neck and slap against his wrist. He looked down at it as he twisted it between his fingers.

           “A tie doesn’t really scream ‘team-building,’ does it?”

           Cas sighed. “I’m the boss. I still have to look like the boss.”

           Parker came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his hips. He pulled him back into him and kissed the side of his neck. When he was like this, when he was happy, Cas almost forgot that he hadn’t had this much time with him in a month. He reached up and carded his fingers through Parker’s hair, pulling him closer, keeping him latched onto his neck.

           “I’m gonna leave a mark,” Parker whispered.

           “Don’t worry about it.” Cas closed his eyes.

           Parker pursed his lips and then pressed his face against Cas’ shoulder. “Do you want me to come?”

           “Do I want you to come to a shitty bar with fifty of my closest coworkers so I can out myself to all of them in one fell swoop?” Cas said, deadpan. “Pass.”

           Parker chuckled. “I don’t get why you don’t just tell them.”

           “I tell them. I tell people.” Cas looked into the mirror, squinting. He tried to figure out what it was his outfit needed. There wasn’t a tie that didn’t work with the classic white button down and black slacks. “I tell them when it comes up. When it seems appropriate. I don’t invite my boyfriend to work-only gatherings and then kiss him when I get too drunk.”

           “Who will you kiss then?” Parker mumbled.

           Cas laughed and turned his head to peck Parker on the cheek. “You, if you’re home when I get back.”

           Parker sighed and stepped away, his fingers slipping from Cas’ hips. Cas immediately felt colder, more alone, even though his boyfriend was still there. “I can’t promise anything,” Parker said. “You know, with these big accounts and all the deadlines coming up.”

           “Yeah. I know.” Cas slipped the tie around his neck again and started to do the knot.

           “Stop.” Parker grabbed onto the fabric and pulled Cas closer. He kissed him on the lips and he tasted like lip gloss and a little bit of wine. Cas frowned. Parker took the tie. “Put on some jeans. I’ll get you another tie. Try not to look like you haven’t been in a bar since college.”

           Cas smirked as him but started to dutifully take off his pants.

The bar was loud and dirty – the exact opposite of what Dean had wanted when he’d picked it out. There seemed to be some sort of party going on, what with all the people around who seemed to know each other and think it was appropriate to touch each other and play awful music on the jukebox.

           Charlie didn’t seem to mind though. When her beer came to her with a ring of dust around the rim of the glass, she’d simply brushed it off and said, “It’ll boost my immune system, right?”

           Dean wasn’t sure on the logic of that but he wasn’t going to question it. He’d learned not to question Charlie after she’d moved to Germany to “make it big” and it had worked, somehow. In Germany, she was famous. In Germany, she could barely walk down the street without someone asking for her autograph. He had gone their once to visit her – she’d sent him a ticket – and the whole thing had been like a weird dream or a bad trip.

           Right now, she was in the middle of a story about the TV show she was working on. Something about monkeys or astronauts or monkey astronauts. But Dean was too focused on trying to use all his mental energy to get the stupid party people to shut the fuck up. Was it really that hard not to play Britney Spears on repeat? To keep their voices down? God, Dean felt like such an old man wanting to ruin their fun. But really. Their fun was Britney Spears.

           Charlie snapped her fingers in his face. “Hey, dipshit. I did not fly ten hours for you to ignore me, you know.”

           Dean took a sip of his beer. “You flew ten hours to do a hokey comic-con on foreign fandoms. What the fuck do you care if I ignore you?”

           Charlie smiled. “I like to be the centre of attention.”

           Dean almost choked on his beer when he laughed.

           “What’s so interesting over there anyways?” She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the partiers, as if she thought the reason for Dean’s distraction was just going to appear out of thin air. She had a hard time understanding that Dean was always distracted, that he always had a headache, and that he’d seen every episode of the monkey-astronaut show five times by now. Then, “Aah,” she said, “that’s what this is about?”

           Dean gave her a confused look. “That’s what what’s about?”

           Charlie tilted her head to the side. “You’re honestly going to sit there and pretend you having been staring at Cas’ ass for the last twenty minutes?”

           Dean blinked. He looked back at the crowd, scanning the people and their faces and their asses, until he saw what Charlie had determined in seconds. Cas was standing at the bar, mostly turned away from them, nursing a beer like it was Jack at three months old. He had a strained smile on his face like maybe it was fake, maybe he was struggling.

           “I wasn’t,” Dean said, honestly. Then he wondered if he’d been unconsciously ogling Cas’ ass. Like he always saw Cas’ ass, so it was always there, so he didn’t even notice he was staring at it.

           Charlie sighed. “Go. Say hi.”

           Dean wrinkled his brow. “No. I’m here with you. I saw him a few hours ago.”

           “And yet you’re still more interested in him.”

           Dean smirked. “I thought you didn’t want me to crush on lesbians.”

           Charlie flipped him off and then downed the rest of her beer. “Come on. We’re going over.” She started to slide towards the end of the booth.

           Dean reached out a hand to stop her. He touched the crook of her elbow. “Wait. Stop. This is ridiculous.” He gestured vaguely to the party. “He’s obviously busy. And he’s still mad at you for what you did at his wedding.”

           She rolled her eyes. “You make one joke about hooking up with the bride and suddenly you’re the bad guy. Plus, I did that for you. I get the bride, you get the groom. Win-win.”

           “Not this again.”

           “You’ve been in love with him probably since you’ve had eyes. I have eyes, so I’m a little in love with him. But the difference is, I fucked it up on purpose. You fucked it up because you’re a commitment-phobe who didn’t want to ruin a friendship.”

           Dean shook his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

           Charlie shrugged. “Maybe it’s not. Maybe you did the right thing letting him go, not fucking him for sport, staying his friend, picking up the pieces of his broken life. But you never got the fuck over him. So while he might not be getting hurt anymore, you still are. Every single damn time you look at him.”

           Dean swallowed hard. His eyes flicked towards Cas. “He has a boyfriend.”

           Charlie shrugged. “Commitments are made to be broken.” She slid out of the booth before Dean could stop her. Before he was on his feet, she had Cas’ attention. And by the time he reached the two of them, she had him in a big bear hug.

Dean looked good cleaned up. Not that he was cleaned up. He still hadn’t shaved and the soap smell wasn’t completely covering the sweat smell or the grease. But the army green button down he had on made his eyes pop and Cas found himself getting lost in them, or tracing the curve of Dean’s lips as he talked, or watching his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. Cas was perhaps a lot drunker than he’d originally thought.

           Charlie took over the conversation, rambling as usual, and Cas kept looking at Dean. Part of his brain was aware he should stop. Stop looking at Dean, stop drinking, just stop altogether maybe. Press pause on the world turning and revaluate his life choices. But it was hard when Dean had a scar down the middle of his bottom lip, like he’d bitten it right open, and Cas kept wondering if he could bite it open himself.

           When Charlie excused herself to the bathroom, Dean sidled up closer to him and laid a hand on his arm. He said, “What are you drinking?”

           “Beer,” Cas said, looking down at his mostly empty glass. He should stop. This was his second and he was supposed to drive home.

           Dean traced his finger down the inside of Cas’ arm, sending shivers all through his body. “What kind of beer?”

           “You know,” Cas said.

           “Oh, that honey shit you like.”

           Cas tried to smile when Dean laughed but he could have sworn someone put something in his drink. Did Dean always look like this? Was he always so beautiful? Cas felt himself sway forward and was suddenly aware that Dean had sat down on a barstool. When had he done that? Now that Cas was closer, he towered over him, and Dean had to look up to meet his eyes. That little smirk on his lips lit up his whole face.

           Dean reached out and pressed a palm against Cas’ stomach. Maybe to keep him steady, maybe for another reason. “Maybe you shouldn’t have another,” Dean said.

           “Maybe I should,” Cas replied. Was he imagining it or was Dean’s thumb rubbing against the buttons of his shirt?

           Dean sighed and the smile dropped right off his face. He took his hand back and rubbed it down his face, suddenly looking anywhere but Cas. “This is all Charlie’s fault,” he muttered as he flung a few bills onto the bar. He got to his feet. “You have a good night, Cas.”

           Cas reached out and grabbed his arm. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Maybe he was thinking that Dean didn’t walk away often, that Dean had never walked away from him. He pulled him back and said, “Stay.” Then, because that seemed a little scary and personal, he added, “I’m the boss. These people don’t want to be out with me. If you leave, I’ll be bored out of my mind.”

           “You could leave,” Dean said.

           Cas stared at him.

           “I can’t do this with you, Cas.” Dean turned back to him, stumbling a little on his feet. One of his hands reached up and cupped Cas’ cheek. “I’ve been really fucking good about not doing this with you.” When his head tilted forward, Cas could smell the alcohol on his breath, hear the tremble in his words.

           “Doing what?” Cas asked.

           Dean smiled. “What do you think?”

           He made to step back but Cas grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward. He crushed their lips together, getting more teeth than lips, but he didn’t let it deter him. He just pulled on Dean more, stumbling back a few steps, and kissed him like his life depended on it. Kissed him like he’d never kiss him again.

           He hit the bar and Dean’s hands came down around him, his hips pushing forward. He kissed back like Cas always thought he would – wild, reckless, dangerous – and pushed a hand up under Cas’ shirt. His fingers were warm, sweaty. Cas turned his head and buried it into the crook of Dean’s neck, inhaling his scent, forcing himself to breathe as Dean rutted against his hip and sucked on his neck.

           Cas spared a thought – one thought – to where they were. “This might be a little public,” he whispered.

           Dean sighed. The breath tickled Cas’ skin and he wanted nothing more than to take his words back. Dean could fuck him against the bar if he wanted to, all his coworkers be damned.

           Then Dean pulled off, his eyes glassy and his lips bitten-red. He flicked his gaze over Cas’ body and Cas stood still, wondering, waiting. He half expected Dean to determine he wasn’t good enough for a one-night-stand, wasn’t the material Dean needed for future wanking sessions. But then he tucked his fingers through Cas’ belt loops and tugged him forward. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dean hadn’t taken the subway home from a bar since he was in college. He either went to the bars close to his house or didn’t drink enough to have to worry about not being able to drive. He wasn’t sure he was too drunk to drive now. But driving meant keeping his hands off Cas, meant keeping his eyes on the road, meant he had to stay focused on something other than the beautiful man in front of him.

           Okay, so making out on the subway wasn’t Dean’s best idea. People kept telling them to get a room, there was more than one disgusted sound of disapproval, and everything about it was uncomfortable. Dean didn’t really care. He just kept pressing Cas back against the wall, trying to tuck himself completely into his embrace as he kissed his lips, his cheeks, his neck. He kept one hand on his hip, pinning him down, because he was a little afraid Cas wanted to get away.

           “Dean,” Cas mumbled after what felt like forever, what felt like ten seconds.

           “Yeah, baby?” Dean whispered, biting his earlobe.

           Cas groaned against him and then whined, his hips pushing upwards. Dean could feel the start of his erection and he wanted to touch it, to taste it, to have it in him. He wondered how many times Cas could get it up in a night. If Cas would stay over the weekend and do nothing but fuck him senseless.

           “We missed the stop.”

           Dean looked up. Doing it felt a little like stopping himself from breathing. And sure enough, they were racing away from the stop closest to his house and onto the next one. “Damn it,” Dean whispered.

           Cas latched onto his neck, laying bruising kisses along his jaw line. “We’ll just get off at the next one,” he mumbled. “Walk back.”

           “And how will we do this while walking?”

           “We’ll think of something.” Cas coaxed their lips back together and pulled Dean in by the back of his neck.

           They missed the next two stops and barely managed to stumble out already-closing doors at the third. Dean swore and looked up at the train schedule. The next one going the other way wasn’t coming for a good eight minutes and he had half a hard-on and a raging need to get it over with. If he fucked Cas now, he could go through with it. If he waited eight minutes? The twenty minute ride home? The five minute walk to his apartment? That was thirty-three minutes to rethink this terrible decision. To think that Cas had a boyfriend. To sober up. To remember he didn’t do this to Cas, he wasn’t this person to Cas, he didn’t deserve Cas.

           “Hey,” Cas whispered. He hooked his fingers into the back pocket of Dean’s jeans and pulled him back a few steps. “What’s wrong?”

           Dean turned his head to look at Cas. Maybe he didn’t want to do this as badly as he thought he did. Maybe there was a reason it had taken them thirty years of friendship to get to this point.

           Cas laid a hand against his cheek and then pressed their foreheads together. “Are you alright? Is this… alright?”

           Dean wanted to laugh. Cas was so drunk he could barely stand upright without some sort of support – hence his lips being two inches away all the time – and he was asking if Dean was okay. Dean who could feel the buzz of alcohol leaving, feel the familiar heaviness entering his limbs, feel the false high dissipate into his usual sadness. He ran a thumb across Cas’ bottom lip.

           “I don’t think you’re sober enough to make this decision,” Dean whispered.

           Cas kissed him. “Dean, I’m just drunk enough to make this decision.”

           Dean laughed. “Too drunk.”

           “No.” Cas smiled at him. “No, I’ve wanted this since… since, god, since I knew I wanted things like this. Since eighth grade when you would suck on pencils in class and I would stare at you the whole time. Since tenth grade when you joined the football team and would come into the locker room sweaty and shirtless and in spandex fucking shorts and just stand there and talk to me while I tried to get dressed for first period gym. Goddammit Dean, do you have any idea how hard it was not to get a boner? It was literal torture.”

           Dean laughed.

           Cas kissed him again, longer, sweeter. “I wanted you in college, when you brought home those girls every night. You used to joke about threesomes constantly and I would… I would imagine saying yes instead of brushing you off.” He licked his bottom lip. Dean couldn’t stop staring at him, couldn’t stop his heart from swelling. Cas added, “Then you came out. And I was already married. And it felt like some sick joke.”

           “Cas…”

           Cas shook his head, looked down. “I get it. I’m not the type you usually go for. You’re not a one man guy. It’s fine.” His eyes glistened when he looked back up and his smile was weak. “Just let me have this.”

           Dean stared at him for a long moment, so long that his vision went blurry and Cas’ eyes started to become one before him. He blinked hard. “Cas, if I was a one man guy, it’d be for you.”

           Cas kissed him and suddenly it didn’t feel like such a big deal that they’d missed all those stops, that they might miss the next train if they kept kissing like this, like they had to wait. Dean had waited this long. He had made himself wait this long. And if he had to blame alcohol and bad decisions to get the one thing he wanted, fine. He could brush it all off if he had to. He could forget it all in the morning. Maybe Cas wouldn’t even stay the night. It was fine, totally fine, as long as Cas’ tongue stayed in his mouth and his hands wandered to his ass and they kept finding walls Dean could push him up against. The subway wall was cool and hard and brick but Cas barely made a noise when Dean shoved him up against it, when he gripped his hair and kissed him so hard he tasted blood.

           “I can’t wait,” Cas mumbled. Or at least that’s what Dean thought he said.

           Dean reached his hands down between them, fingers fumbling with Cas’ belt buckle. He felt adrenaline rush through his veins. Yes, he was definitely going to get arrested for this. No, he didn’t really care.

           “I meant…” Cas began. Dean sunk to his knees and pressed his face into Cas’ crotch. Cas whimpered. “A hotel. We could go… to a hotel.”

           Dean kissed up the length of his hardening cock, careful to keep fabric between their skin. He pressed one hand into Cas’ hip, holding him steady as he inhaled his scent. He sucked at the head through the fabric of Cas’ jeans, then pulled down the zipper and pressed his face to Cas’ boxers. He rubbed his nose across his cock, ghosted his lips along its length. He could feel Cas whimpering more than hear him, felt every tremble between his fingertips.

           “You really want that?” Dean whispered. He moved one hand into Cas’ boxers, cupping his balls and feeling the warmth of him. Dean could hear his own heart pounding. He leaned his forehead against Cas’ stomach, tried to steady his breathing as he took Cas’ cock in his hand. “You want a hotel?”

           Cas let out a broken, desperate, sobbing laugh. “I want you to do anything you want to me right fucking here but if we don’t move this to a hotel, we’ll be arrested before that happens.”

           Dean didn’t mind the arrested part. He did mind the part where he got separated from Cas before the main event. With a sigh, he took his hand out of Cas’ boxers and made his way slowly to his feet. He ghosted his lips over Cas’ belly for as long as he could before his shirt fell down and Dean was upright.

           Cas made quick work of tucking himself back into his jeans. As he stepped away from the wall, Dean made a move to put an arm around him. Cas dodged it and said, “Don’t touch me. Or we will spend the night in jail.”

The motel was the dirtiest place Cas had ever stepped foot in. When he whispered this to Dean, Dean laughed at him. So Cas shut up, swallowed his urge to ask they find somewhere else to spend the night, and waited nervously while Dean got the keys. The alcohol was starting to wear off and the realization that this wasn’t just a bad idea but a very bad idea was sweeping over Cas in waves. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet.

           Dean turned back to him with a smile. “Ready, babe?”

           Cas felt the nickname go straight to his dick. He kind of never wanted Dean to call him anything else ever again. He nodded. Bad idea or not, he was already there. He wanted this. And he could back out now, be the good guy one more time, or he could do something he really wanted to do and blame it all on the alcohol in the morning.

           They resisted the urge to make-out in the elevator. There was a foot of space between them that Cas suddenly felt like he couldn’t cross, like he didn’t have the guts to step over. Dean opened the door to their room and a musty smell wafted out. Cas really hoped he didn’t get an infection from this. That would be a lot harder to explain than the bruises on his hips.

           He stepped inside and swallowed hard. Looking around the room, there really was only one reason to get a room here. There was no TV. No desk. No armchair with a little footstool. There was just a double bed with yellow-white sheets and thin comforter. The lamp on the bedside table didn’t even have a bulb in it.

           He heard the door shut behind him. He turned to Dean, ready to bite the bullet and tell him this was a horrible decision. But Dean kissed him before he got the words out. And nothing about kissing Dean could ever be a horrible decision because his lips tasted like alcohol and medicated chapstick, like spit and sweat and him.

           Dean pushed him back, his fingers already working at his zipper. He kissed and moved and felt him up roughly, quickly, like he was afraid Cas would pull away at any second and this would never happen. Even well it was happening, it felt like it would never happen to Cas. This was a fever dream or a cruel joke or a hallucination. It wasn’t Dean’s lips on his neck and his hands pulling down his pants and Dean sinking to his knees as he pushed him back onto the bed.

           Cas landed with a squeal of the springs but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about the bed collapsing for too long. Dean had his lips on his inner thighs, taking his sweet time sucking and biting at the skin there as his hands caressed Cas’ calves. Cas whined and tried to sit up, but then Dean’s hand was on his hip, coaxing him back down.

           Cas bit his lip and closed his eyes. Dean’s hand crept up under his thigh, moving forward to grab his ass. He kissed his cock, tongue flicking out to lick long lines over his sensitive skin. His nails bit into Cas’ butt as he sucked at the head of his dick, swirling his tongue and taking his sweet damn time. Cas wondered why. The bedsprings creaked and Cas realized Dean was humping the bed as he worked, his lips making their way up the length of his hardening cock.

           Dean’s other hand rolled his balls and Cas let out a loud moan. He bucked up into Dean’s mouth and Dean didn’t flinch. He moaned. The sound rumbled through Cas’ body, making him feel like he was on fire. Experimentally, he tried to sit up and Dean let him. He shifted forward and Dean didn’t shift back. He looked up at him, eyes wide, almost begging. When Cas didn’t move, he gripped his ass in both hands and moved him forward.

           Cas gasped and reached out to grab onto Dean’s hair. He pulled it a bit and Dean moaned and Cas groaned in return. Then, closing his eyes and trying to forget years of lectures on why this was dangerous, he thrust his hips forward into Dean’s mouth. Dean leaned into the motion so Cas did it again and again and again until he was setting a punishing pace. He let his grip on Dean loosen, carded his fingers through his hair and moved them to his cheek. He could feel his dick there, pounding into the back of Dean’s throat as every muscle in his body tightened. Dean continued to move his tongue and hollow out his cheeks despite the fact that Cas was quickly losing control, his thrusts becoming erratic and too hard. Dean’s nails dug into his ass, urging him on, and Cas had only a second to spare to think about what it meant if he blew his load when his orgasm snuck up on him. All his muscles tensed and then relaxed, come spurting down Dean’s throat.

           Dean finally backed off a little but he swallowed it down dutifully. Some of it dripped out his mouth and he licked it up with his tongue. Then, before Cas could say a word, he bent down and licked the rest of it off Cas’ flaccid dick.

           “Dean, fuck,” Cas whispered. He reached out and brushed his hand through his hair even as he continued to lick up the mess. Cas felt like curling right around him, pulling him into some perverse parody of a hug. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

           “Why?” Dean whispered. He looked up and Cas lost his breath.

           Cas leaned down and kissed him. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, he pulled Dean forward as he leaned back onto the bed. As Dean crawled forward, Cas crept a hand down his chest and cupped it around his cock. He was hard in Cas’ hand, so hard even the touch of his fingers made Dean whine.

           “Shh,” Cas whispered. He lay kisses up Dean’s jaw and murmured in his ear, “I’ll take care of you.”

           He rubbed his fingers over Dean’s crotch and he bucked up into him. Cas thought that might be enough for him, just rutting into his hand like an over-sexed teenager. Cas wondered what it would feel like to have his come leak through his jeans and onto his fingers.

           He rolled Dean onto his back, pulled up his own pants, and clambered over Dean. Dean looked up at him with wide eyes, curious and questioning. Cas brought his hands down on his cheeks to feel the stubble in his palms, to brush a thumb over his swollen lips. Then, slowly, he lowered himself onto Dean’s clothed cock and brushed his covered ass over Dean’s erection. Dean let out a sound that was half moan, half scream and Cas instinctively moved his hand up to cover it.

           Dean wrapped his lips around Cas’ fingers, sucking and shaking. His hips bucked upwards and Cas applied more pressure, revelling in the feeling of Dean rubbing against him. When he was sure Dean had control of himself, he slid his fingers out of his mouth and pressed his hand down on Dean’s shoulder instead.

           “I fucking…” Dean took a deep breath as the words shook over his tongue. “I fucking hate dry-humping.”

           Cas laughed. “It’s hard to tell.”

           “It’s so much… so much fucking worse than the real thing.”

           Cas hummed and circled his hips a little, loving the way Dean swallowed his moans. “It’s effective, though.”

           “Effective and such a waste,” Dean grumbled. “What are we? Teenagers? Just… fuck.” He bit into his bottom lip and the scar ripped open, sending a dribble of blood across his lip. Cas caught his breath and pressed down, feeling Dean’s cock against him. He closed his eyes against the urge to get it all over with. “Just fuck me,” Dean breathed out.

           Cas opened his eyes in surprise. He stopped moving and the breath that Dean let out was almost a sob. “Fuck you?” Cas echoed stupidly.

           “Yes, fuck me,” Dean said, sounding more annoyed than horny as the seconds passed. “What the fuck did you think we were coming here to do?”

           “I just thought… I…” Cas swallowed nervously. He looked away from Dean’s face, his eyes trailing down his body. He had opened a few buttons on his shirt, enough to see his smooth pecs, and the button of his jeans were open, but otherwise, he was still fully clothed. Cas spared a moment of thought for how much his erection must hurt in those tight jeans. “You… bottom?”

           Dean rolled his eyes and bucked up his hips. Cas nearly lost his balance but got the hint: conversation or not, he needed to keep moving his hips. But even when he did, Dean didn’t stop thrusting upwards and even moved a hand to Cas’ hips. His eyes fluttered half-closed.

           “Dean?” Cas prompted, barely making it through the single syllable. He could feel himself starting to get hard again, his ass burning. “Bottoming?”

           “I bottom,” Dean said. “I like it. But whatever. If you don’t like topping, I’ll fuck you. You fuck me, I fuck you, I don’t fucking care just…” He let out a long, low whine like a boiling tea kettle. “Please.”

           Cas shifted so he was sitting on Dean’s thighs instead. He undid the button on his jeans, then the zipper, and tucked his hand inside Dean’s boxers. He had barely brushed his fingers over Dean’s cock when he blew his load.

           “Fuck,” Dean whispered. His whole body was trembling.

           Cas rubbed his weak erection against Dean’s thigh, feeling his come spreading through his fingers as he stroked him through his climax. Dean whined but didn’t push his hand away when it had finished, made no move to stop him at all. So Cas kept going, twisting his fingers around Dean’s cock, letting Dean ride through the aftershocks with cut-off moans.

           “Did we decide?” Dean asked when he finally reached to move Cas’ hand away. He looked up at him as he licked his lips and Cas wondered how he could look so good like that – still clothed, sweaty and sexed, like someone had fucked him with all his clothes on. Which, Cas supposed, he had.

           “Decide what?” Cas said.

           “Who’s fucking who,” Dean said, groaning like this was the most boring conversation he had in his life. He sat up and started tugging off his pants and underwear.

           Cas realized he hadn’t actually seen Dean’s cock yet. But even post-orgasm, it was fantastic. Thick and a good length. He wanted it in his mouth, in his hand, in his ass, wherever he could have it. Dean’s pants hit the floor with a whack.

           “So?” Dean prompted.

           Cas looked back up at him and felt himself start to blush at being caught. Not that it mattered right now but Cas had spent too many years trying not to get caught looking at Dean that looking unashamedly now felt wrong.

           “I’ll fuck you,” Cas said because he wanted to see every one of Dean’s muscles working, because he didn’t want to have to think past thrusting his hips. He felt himself get a little harder just thinking about entering Dean. “Fuck,” he whispered.

           Dean smiled at him and suddenly the whole situation felt a lot more real. There was Dean’s patented smirk, the one he had on whenever he was about to make fun of him. But instead of saying anything, Dean leaned forward and kissed him. “You ready to go yet?” he murmured against his lips.

           Cas chuckled. “You just came.”

           “Wring it out of me again,” Dean whispered. “Do it all fucking night if you want.”

           Cas whined against his lips. Dean shifted onto his knees and cupped Cas’ face in his hands as he kissed him. Then, slowly, he started to undo the buttons of his shirt. Cas shifted into his touch and let his hands wander under Dean’s shirt. His cock rubbed against the V of Dean’s hip and he moaned into the kiss. Dean grabbed his ass and pulled him closer, encouraging him as he one-handedly pushed off Cas’ shirt.

           Cas bit down onto Dean’s shoulder as he rutted against him. He did his best to get his shirt off, but his hands were trembling. Dean’s fingers came down over Cas’ and helped with the buttons. He shrugged his shirt off and Cas let his fingers fall against Dean’s abs, over his pecs, down his sides. He groaned at the feel of him.

           Dean dipped his hands under the waistband of Cas’ jeans and pulled them down. Cas shifted enough to get them down and then broke their embrace to pull them off the rest of the way. Before they even hit the floor, Dean was pulling him back, kissing his shoulders and his neck. Cas’ hard cock rubbed against Dean’s stomach and he muffled a groan as he pressed into the sensation, wondering if he could get off by fucking Dean’s abs.

           “Wait,” Dean said. He shifted back a bit and then took Cas’ cock in his hand. He moved a bit more, adjusting, and then took them both in his hand. Cas gasped as his dick rubbed against Dean’s, as Dean’s fingers skidded along both their lengths. He added his own hand to the mix, curling his fingers over Dean’s, trying to get him to move faster, rougher. He could barely catch his breath.

           Then Dean kissed him, swirling their tongues together. Cas could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He kind of felt like he was going to die.

           “Stop,” Cas whispered. He squeezed Dean’s fingers with his own, trying to swallow the whimper in his throat.

           Dean cupped his chin in a hand and tilted it up so he could look at him. His eyes were so green, so much greener than Cas had ever realized, and he felt like he had spent a lot of time trying to categorize the colour of Dean’s eyes. Green didn’t quite cover it.

           “What’s wrong, babe?”

           “Nothing’s wrong.” Cas almost laughed at the thought. He wanted to kiss the worry off Dean’s lips, away from the wrinkles under his eyes. “I’m just gonna come again if we keep this up. And I kinda thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

           Dean smiled. “Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”

           “You have no fucking clue.”

           Dean kissed him and Cas sunk into the softness of it. He didn’t speed it up or slow it down. Somehow it felt like they were getting in all the kisses they’d missed over the years tonight. This one, this one must have been that mistletoe in Cas’ first apartment with Kelly. The subway was all those drunken nights wandering home in college. The bar was when they’d snuck out at sixteen with fake IDs and wound up in jail, waiting for their parents to get out of bed and pick them up.

           Dean pulled away and licked his lips. Both his hands cradled Cas’ face. “Where do you want me?” he said.

           Cas’ brain almost short-circuited at those words but he forced it to keep working. “Do you have any lube?”

           “Somewhere,” Dean said. “My wallet, maybe.”

           Cas slipped off the bed. The cold of the motel room overcame him without Dean touching him and he suddenly felt sticky and silly and like the whole world was revolving without them. He stumbled towards Dean’s jeans and pulled out his wallet, started flicking through the cards and bills and receipts.

           Dean shifted on the bed – the springs gave him away – and he kissed Cas’ back. He started to flutter his lips down his spine and Cas felt himself shaking. His fingers slipped, snapping everything back into the overstuffed space.

           “I can’t find it,” Cas said.

           “Give it to me.” But instead of waiting, Dean wrapped his arms over Cas’ shoulders and grabbed the wallet out of his hands. For a second, his naked body pressed up against Cas’ back and his weight hung off his shoulders. Then he was gone.

           Cas turned to see him flopping back on the bed, tossing things out of his wallet at random. “You’re gonna need those cards later,” Cas said.

           “But not now.”

           Cas sat down on the end of the bed, watching.

           Dean pulled out a plastic packet of travel lube – he had travel lube – and smiled. He flicked it at Cas. “Where do you want me?” he repeated.

           Cas wanted Dean everywhere, in every position, all night long. But he was sure this erection was the last one in him and that he’d only get to do this once. “All fours,” he said. He stood up as Dean shifted into position and pushed his ass into the air.

           Cas took a deep breath. He ripped open the packet and spread the lube onto his fingers before stepping forward and spreading Dean’s cheeks. With just one finger, Dean shifted but made no noise. Cas added a second finger. Then, with little struggle, a third.

           “Shit,” Cas said. “Do you even need lube?”

           Dean laughed. “I do like to be warmed up a bit.”

           Cas curled his fingers and Dean groaned. “You already feel warmed up.”

           Dean leaned forward, pressing his face into a pillow as he whimpered. Cas shifted up onto the bed and pushed his fingers in further, looking for room or friction. He pressed a kiss to the base of Dean’s spine and then, in a bout of inspiration, lowered his kisses down the crack of his ass.

           Dean moaned as Cas swirled his tongue around the rim of his hole. He felt Dean buck back into him so he moved his other hand to steady him. Slipping out two fingers, he pressed his tongue against the hole and then dipped it in, moving his finger along with it. A groan shuddered through Dean’s body and Cas gripped his hip harder as he pushed his tongue along the rim and buried his face in Dean’s ass.

           “I’m ready,” Dean managed.

           Cas chuckled. He licked his lips as he came up and pressed a wet kiss to Dean’s ass. Then he dragged his teeth against the warm flesh and relished the way Dean whimpered. “Are you sure, sweetie?” Cas said, soft. “I wouldn’t want to do it without warming you up properly. Are you sure you don’t want to—” He was cut off by Dean moaning when he twisted his fingers.

           “Okay, baby,” Cas whispered. He pulled his fingers out and shifted to be squarely behind Dean. He stroked his ass with one hand, resisting the urge to slap it or bite it. He rubbed his cock up the crack of Dean’s ass, biting his lip to resist groaning.

           “Do it,” Dean snapped.

           “Patience.”

           “I’m not a fucking doctor, just fuck me.”

           Cas exhaled a laugh and lined himself up. With one last, steadying breath, he pushed inside. He almost lost it the moment their skin touched and again when he felt Dean squeeze around him. He hissed out his breath, let his hand slide up the length of Dean’s spine as he pushed in. He kept his pace slow, his eyes closed, afraid if he moved too fast it would all be over in seconds and Cas wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life. He wanted this moment to last for the rest of his life.

           Then Dean shifted backwards, slamming Cas fully into him and he groaned.

           “Fuck,” Cas bit out, tasting blood on his tongue from where he’d bitten it. He grasped Dean’s hip, not kindly, and kept him steady for a moment as shockwaves rolled through his body. “Don’t do that.”

           “Then do something,” Dean bit back.

           Cas reached around with his other hand to stroke Dean’s cock. Dean whimpered at his touch and tried to thrust into it, but Cas held his hip steady. Damn him if Dean moved on his own for the rest of the night. When Cas’ breath had steadied and Dean was damn near a puddle, rock hard in Cas’ hand, Cas pulled back and thrust forward. He felt all the breath leave Dean’s body.

           He started slow – his thrusts regular and steady – and sped up at a reasonable pace. He squeezed the base of Dean’s cock whenever he got too close. Dean’s groans and whimpers wet the pillow at his lips, the sheets going dark around his mouth. Even as he melted, he squeezed his muscles around Cas’ cock, bucked back into him whenever he felt Cas’ fingers loosening at his hip. And Cas could feel himself slowly, surely, losing control as he watched Dean’s muscles ripple and relax.

           When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he started to thrust faster. The slap of skin against skin filled the air and Dean came easily, quickly, his come spread over Cas’ fingers. Cas spread it up the length of his abs and then squeezed his ass, still thrusting harder and faster as Dean tried to wring his orgasm out of him. He felt himself spiralling out of control, sweat making his hair fall into his eyes.

           When he came, he felt his whole body go limp and sated. He curled over Dean’s back, stroking his sides as his release left him. He kissed down his spine before sitting up and pulling out, sighing as fatigue washed over him. Dean slipped down so he was lying on the bed, breathing heavily, the pillow still half in his mouth.

           Cas lay down beside him on his belly, looked at Dean’s face. Dean’s eyes were closed as air heaved through his body, making the bedsprings give off their last, dying squeaks. Cas reached forward and cupped his cheek, feeling the stubble prickle his palm.

           “We need to get up,” Cas whispered.

           Dean groaned. “We have the room for the night.”

           Cas laughed. “No. I mean we need to shower.”

           Dean shook his head into the pillow.

           Cas couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t make his mouth close. He shook Dean’s shoulder. “Can’t you feel all that come drying? Isn’t that really gross to you?”

           “No,” Dean mumbled. “I like it.”

           “You have to shower.”

           Dean groaned and pressed his whole face into the pillow. Cas brushed his fingers through his hair, patient, waiting. He pressed his lips to Dean’s shoulder.

           Dean lifted his face and one green eye peeked out at Cas. “You’ll shower with me?”

           “I’ll shower with you,” Cas agreed.

Cas closed his eyes tighter against the sunlight shining through the thin curtains. Then, squinting, he slowly opened them to see the man in front of him. The man who was definitely not his boyfriend. Dean Winchester, fast asleep, a slight smile on his lips, his stubble starting to grow into a thin beard.

           Cas wrapped their legs tighter together for an instant. He was afraid to blink. He wanted to memorize this – the warm bed and their entangled bodies and the soft look on Dean’s face. He wanted to pretend he could wake up to this every morning, wanted to memorize the image so he could remember it every morning and pretend. He reached his hand forward and caressed Dean’s cheek, brushed his thumb over his bottom lip.

           Dean grumbled, shifted, but didn’t stir.

           Cas bit down on all the feelings swelling in his belly, on the sadness clogging his throat. Then, slowly, he shifted out of Dean’s embrace and started the cold work of searching for his clothes. His thoughts whirled as he tried to come up with an excuse to tell Parker about why he had been out all night, why his clothes were wrinkled, why he didn’t come home before he went to work. Home was in the opposite direction of work at this point and he had spare clothes in his office.

           As he did up the last few buttons on his shirt, Dean groaned and rolled over on the bed. He blinked open his eyes and slowly focused on Cas. “Where are you going?”

           “Work.”

           “Aah.” Dean pushed himself into a sitting position and waggled his eyebrows. “You don’t wanna stay for round two?”

           Cas smiled at him. “More like round three.”

           Dean smiled back and Cas felt that familiar tug on his heartstrings. He looked away as he shuffled into his shoes and turned around to sit on the end of the bed as he tied his laces. Taking a deep breath, he said, “We’re okay, right?”

           Dean yawned and the bedsprings squealed as he got to his feet. “Why wouldn’t we be okay?”

           Cas shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re not exactly friends with benefits.” He spared a glance towards Dean and wished the other man didn’t look so confused. It was probably just early. Dean got it, Dean had to get it. Dean was the reason it had to be this way. “It’s not going to be weird now?”

           “Why would it be weird?”

           Cas sighed. He looked back down at his tied shoes. “Because,” he said. He really wished Dean didn’t have an insatiable urge to make everything difficult. Cas got to his feet and turned to face Dean. “This was a mistake. A onetime thing. A stupid, drunken night. And I don’t want it to ruin our friendship.”

           Dean stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide and blank, and Cas thought he saw something like hurt flash through them. Then he chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. His armpit hair was wild even though the rest of him was smooth and Cas still wanted to lick his abs, press kisses into his neck. He was surprised, looking at him, by how many bruises he’d left the night before, by the yellow-brown indent of his fingers around Dean’s hips.

           “Cas, if my friendships were ruined every time I fucked someone, I would have no friends to speak of.” He shook his head and took a step forward. He pressed a wet, meaningless kiss against Cas’ cheek and then slapped it for good measure. “We’re fine.”

           Cas looked into his eyes. He watched his smile. He saw nothing wrong.

           “Go to work,” Dean said, stepping back. “I have to clean up all this shit anyways.”

           Cas didn’t move. He watched Dean bend over, told himself he wasn’t appreciating his ass one last time. Then, “Okay,” he said. He patted his back pocket to make sure his wallet was still there and headed for the door. Only once he was on the other side of it did he realize he should have showered again, freshened up, gone to the bathroom. But knocking didn’t seem like an option anymore, so he walked away.

Dean sunk to the ground as soon as Cas left. The motel carpet was itchy and had that distinct feel of something unwashed but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up. His legs felt weak, shaky, like he’d been fucked seconds ago instead of hours. He scrubbed his hand down his face.

           Of course he’d known it was a onetime thing. Of course he’d realized they weren’t friends with benefits. He wasn’t a fucking idiot. He didn’t entertain romantic notions of marrying Cas and having his kids. He hadn’t thought this would change everything, change both their lives, that one drunken night was worth throwing away everything for. He didn’t.

           Of course he did.

           Dean tried not to remember the things Cas had said about him, about wanting him for so long. He tried not to let them run through his mind, not to wonder how Cas could want him so much but not want to be with him. But that was who he was, wasn’t it? Always the one-night-stand, never the bride. Fuck him. And fuck his brain for thinking this was the exception.

           After a long few minutes, Dean hoisted himself to his feet. He took a hot shower and brushed his teeth with some toothpaste that looked like it’d been left behind a decade ago. He got his clothes back on, picked up the contents of his wallet, and checked under the bed for good measure. When he was sure the room was clean – or, at least, empty of his stuff – he left the key on the bedside table and walked out the door.

           He didn’t talk to anyone all day. He ignored Charlie’s texts asking where he’d been, if he was dead, if he’d finally fucked Cas. She was livid he’d left her in the bar – she’d been in the bathroom for three minutes, was he really that horny? – but more curious about what he’d gotten up to. He ignored Sam’s call and subsequent text asking if he was coming over for dinner that night. The last thing Dean wanted to see now was Sam and Jess and their happy fucking family. Knowing their Saturday night dinners, his parents would probably be there as well and he might just burst into tears if they asked him if he was seeing anyone. Not that Dean cried. He didn’t cry. And he ignored all his coworkers at the garage, going so far as to simply raise his eyebrows at his boss when she asked if he was done on the Camaro. It was in fifty fucking bazillion pieces still – of course he wasn’t done.

           Just as he rolled into bed for the night, his phone lit up with another text. He sighed, ready to finally tell Charlie to fuck off, when he realized it was from Cas. It said: were you avoiding me today

           Dean wrinkled his face. It wasn’t hard not to see Cas all day long – guy had a kid and a boyfriend and a fulltime job and – oh. Fucking grocery shopping. Dean forgot he went grocery shopping on Saturdays. He texted back: busy at work. didn’t have the time

           And then he stared at his phone for a very long time before remembering Cas rarely replied to texts that didn’t need replies. He locked his phone and rolled his face into his pillow, praying he wouldn’t dream of Cas.

           He dreamed of Cas.

           He dreamed Cas was touching him, kissing him, whispering promises into his ears. He dreamed they would wake up together in the morning, make breakfast, send the kids off to school. He woke up a hundred times in the night and finally gave up on sleep around five a.m.

           Days passed. He inevitably ran into Cas and managed to keep his cool, to not act like he’d been fantasizing about their life together for days. He smirked and made jokes and called Cas babe instead of angel and watched him blush everywhere. He punched him in the arm and walked away, always walked away too fast, always made it feel awkward. It was the best he could do, the best he could manage, and he could feel Cas staring after him every time like I thought you said this wouldn’t be a problem.

           Then Dean got sick. And he was smart enough to know the difference between sick and sick. So he went out of his way to a different grocery store and covered the pregnancy test in bags and bags of gummy candy which really felt like more of an admission that anything else. He avoided the cashiers in favour of the self-checkout and made his way home. He locked himself in his bathroom like he thought someone else might come in, someone else might see.

           He peed on the stick and he waited.

           He waited longer than he needed to. He left the bathroom. He made popcorn. He watched a whole season of Orange is the New Black. He wandered back into the bathroom full of off-brand pop, rubbing his eyes from fatigue, and unzipped his pants. As he pissed, his eyes wandered over to the counter.

           A pink plus sign stared back at him.

Dean stood on the sidelines of the football game and watched as the kids ran from one end of the field to the other. Sam blew the whistle every few seconds, forcing them to switch directions rapidly. Dean wished he could say he didn’t mind – it was Sam’s job, Sam had to do his job – but he rarely told Sam he needed to talk. He rarely wanted to talk about anything. He thought maybe that warranted his brother’s full attention.

           After a few more whistle blows, Sam called them all to a stop and sent them off to run various drills on their own. As he walked back to Dean, he took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair. He offered Dean an apologetic smile. “Sorry. The first game that matters this season is Friday.”

           “It’s okay,” Dean said.

           Sam gave him an odd look. He clearly knew it did matter but Dean didn’t want to fight about that. He didn’t want to fight about anything. He didn’t even want to explain the problem. He thought maybe the way he’d crossed his arms over his stomach would give it away, maybe the three layers of shirts he was wearing. He didn’t want to say the words out loud.

           “What’s up?” Sam said.

           Dean bounced on the balls of his feet and looked away. A cool breeze rippled through the air and a shout came from the other end of the field as one boy tackled another. Dean let out a big breath and said, “I’m pregnant.”

           Sam side-eyed him. “Get another abortion.”

           “I thought about that.” Dean tried not to bite his tongue off. He felt like during the last few days he was starting to wear a hole through his tongue, a thin groove, and eventually its tip would just fall off. “My doctor said there’s already… just so much scarring and he’s afraid if I get another abortion, I might not be able to have a baby.”

           Sam blew his whistle and shouted at some kids who had started a scrum without his permission. Dean held back a sigh until Sam turned back to him, eyes wide and curious. “Is that something you want?” Sam said. “Kids?”

           Dean shrugged. “Maybe? Once I’m ready to settle down.”

           Sam snorted. “Dean, you’re almost forty. If you haven’t settled down yet—”

           “I know,” Dean snapped. He felt bad about it immediately but Sam didn’t even flinch. He had squinted his eyes and was watching the defence line do crappy push-ups. Dean cleared his throat to get his attention again. “I might want kids someday. And if I can’t get pregnant, and my partner can’t get pregnant or doesn’t want to get pregnant, then… then what am I supposed to do if I’ve had so many stupid fucking abortions that I can’t do it again?”

           Sam’s eyes softened and he reached out to grip Dean’s shoulder. “There’s always adoption.”

           Dean let out a humourless laugh. “That would mean carrying this fucking thing for nine months.”

           “So?”

           “So,” Dean said, “that would mean telling the father.”

           Sam frowned. “Who’s the father?”

           Dean looked away. He wanted to swallow his tongue. He wanted to rewind the conversation for a few minutes so he could come up with a better argument against adoption, against being pregnant for nine months, so that he didn’t wind up here. He closed his eyes for a second, willing the rewind into reality.

           “Who?” Sam repeated.

           Dean sighed and kicked the ground. “You don’t want to know.”

           “You didn’t.”

           Dean looked up. He wasn’t surprised Sam was furious – of course Sam was fucking furious. Cas was a friend of both of them. Cas’ kid was on the fucking football team. Cas had a boyfriend and a life and they’d had an unspoken agreement for some time that Dean wasn’t allowed to fuck up Cas’ life because of his libido. But he was surprised to find that Sam looked worried, scared even. It made his own fear bubble in his stomach.

           “Dean,” Sam said, steady, “tell me you didn’t.”

           “It seemed like a fucking good idea at the time, all right?”

           “And now what the fuck are you going to do?” Sam sighed and shook his head. “You had to fuck him and you couldn’t even be bothered with a condom and now you can’t get an abortion and what, Dean? Are you just going to tell him you’re carrying his baby? Because we both know exactly what he’s going to do when he finds that out.”

           Dean swallowed hard. He did know exactly what Cas would do. Cas was a good guy. He’d married Kelly when she got pregnant. He had sat with Dean while he’d taken multiple pregnancy tests throughout his life. When he’d given Jack the birds and the bees talk, he’d reminded him several times to take responsibility for his actions – no matter how scary that was. Cas would give up his life for him in a second. He would give up his life for the baby.

           Dean opened his mouth, unsure exactly what he was going to say, when he noticed Jack standing a few feet away. He nodded his chin towards him and Sam turned.

           “What?” Sam snapped, harsher than usual.

           Jack flinched but then took a step forward. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He swallowed heavily. Dean wondered how much of the conversation he had heard. “But, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Coach, you didn’t tell us what to do when we finished the drills? We were just… wondering.”

           Sam glanced over at Dean. Dean waved him on and Sam stepped out onto the field, clapping his hands and shouting to get everyone’s attention. But Jack stayed rooted to the spot, staring at Dean.

           “Go on,” Dean said. “You don’t want to get my brother pissed.”

           Jack nodded but still didn’t move.

           “What?”

           “I just…” Jack fiddled his thumbs and looked down at the grass. He took a deep breath. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great dad.”

           Dean stared at him, unable to come up with the words to reply to that. Jack ran off before he thought of anything. Maybe he should have told him not to tell his father. Maybe he should have cleared up exactly what Jack had overheard. Fear and nausea rumbled in his stomach and, before Sam could return, Dean headed back to his truck.

Cas turned off the burners on the stove just as the garlic started to get that distinct burnt smell. He bit into his bottom lip and moved the pan. He told himself it would be fine. He told himself that a lot these days.

           He wiped off his hands on the kitchen towel as he tried to think about what he needed to do next. Set the table? Pour the milk? He couldn’t think over the racket of Jack’s music in the room above – Dean must have gotten him hooked on old rock music because that was the only decent reason for the absolute chaos of drums rattling through the walls. Cas sighed and picked up his phone. He sent Jack a quick text telling him to shut it the hell off and come down to dinner.

           Parker walked into the kitchen halfway through undoing his tie. He pressed a kiss to Cas’ cheek. “What’s for dinner, Cas?”

           “What’s it look like?” Cas snapped. Parker stepped away from him and Cas closed his eyes, biting back a sigh. “Sorry. Long day.”

           “Big sale?”

           “Ran out of ramen. And you know every university student in the world goes grocery shopping on fucking Wednesday.”

           “Swear jar,” Jack said as he walked into the kitchen. He reached around Cas and picked out a tomato from the stir fry. He popped it into his mouth, continued to speak as he chewed, “Unless I’m allowed to say fuck now.”

           “Swear jar,” Cas and Parker said in unison.

           “Him first.” Jack flopped down at the kitchen table.

           “I told you to set that,” Cas said.

           Jack looked back at him blankly as he started to butter a slice of bread.

           With a sigh, Cas slammed open a cabinet and pulled out the plates. He set the table efficiently, his fingers moving without his mind catching up to what he was doing, and then he doled out the food. Parker slumped into his chair, sighing as he brushed a hand through his close-cropped hair. Cas tossed the frying pan in the sink and then sat down himself before stabbing at the food.

           “Aren’t we going to say grace?” Jack said.

           “Shut up and eat,” Cas said. He didn’t bother to look up to see whatever expression Jack was giving him, whatever false shock was filling his eyes. Usually, when Jack was in a mood, Cas would take the time to coax it out of him, to get to the bottom of the problem, to make him feel better. But tonight, he didn’t even have the urge to do those things, just the nagging guilt that Kelly would want him to.

           Parker filled the silence by regaling them all with tales of the case he was working on. Cas let his voice float in one ear and out the other. The weird thing was, he didn’t even have anything on his mind. He couldn’t remember thinking all day. All he had was a layer of irritation on his skin like a thin shield from whatever real emotions he should be feeling. He packed food into his mouth without tasting it, without feeling it, and chewed dutifully.

           When Parker’s story finished, he smiled and looked around the table. “Anyone else want to share from their day?”

           Cas glanced over at him. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

           “It’s a little bitter.”

           “A lot,” Jack said.

           Parker shot him a disapproving look and then reached out to squeeze Cas’ shoulder. “Still good.”

           Jack grunted.

           “You two can cook any time,” Cas mumbled through a mouthful. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to get annoyed. A heavy sense of fatigue fell onto his shoulders and he felt he might collapse under its weight.

           “I have something interesting to share,” Jack said, sounding every bit like a defiant asshole.

           “If it’s rude, forget it,” Cas said. “And if it’s why you’re in such a bad mood, please get it the fuck off your chest so we can have a pleasant evening.”

           “Why are you in a bad mood?” Jack countered.

           “I don’t know,” Cas replied honestly. He dropped his fork and swallowed the last bite in his mouth. Finally, he tasted it and they were both right – it was bitter. “Why are you in a bad mood?”

           Jack looked him in the eye. It felt like it was the first time he’d done it that night and it might have been. His eyes were soft and blue like Kelly’s and Cas immediately felt bad for snapping at him. He was a teenager. He had every right to act like an asshole. God knows Cas acted like Satan when he was Jack’s age.

           Cas reached forward and squeezed Jack’s hand where it lay on the table. “What’s up, buddy?”

           Jack clenched his jaw and shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. It’s stupid.”

           Cas glanced towards Parker but Parker was already getting to his feet. He winked at Cas, patted Jack on the back, and then disappeared into the next room. After a few seconds, the soft static of the evening news floated back to them.

           “You wanna tell me now?” Cas asked.

           “It’s about Dean.”

           Cas resisted the urge to sigh. “What about Dean?”

           “It told you. It’s stupid.” Jack pulled his hand back and crossed his arms. “Can I go to my room now? I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want another lecture on how he’s not my dad and you’re sorry you let me feel that way but that I have to understand and—”

           “Jack,” Cas cut him off. He shifted, scraping the chair legs across the wood floors, and leaned forward. “You are my son and I love you. And if you don’t want me to say any of those things again, I won’t. I get that you see Dean as a father figure. It’s okay.”

           Jack chewed on his bottom lip. “Yeah. Okay.”

           “Can you tell me what happened?” Cas mentally ran through a quick list of all the things Dean could possibly do to upset Jack. He had a sneaking suspicion this was all his fault. No matter how cool Dean pretended to be about the whole thing, Cas knew something was wrong between them. “Did Dean… did he get mad at you?”

           “No. Nothing like that.”

           “Then what?”

           “I guess… I guess it just finally hit me today that he’s never going to be my dad. That you two aren’t in love and you never will be and that I’ll never have a normal fucking family.”

           Cas felt his heart stutter to a stop. He licked his lips. “Parker—”

           “Parker doesn’t give a shit about me,” Jack said. “Yeah, he’s nice enough and he buys me stuff, I guess, but he’s not my dad.”

           “You told him you didn’t need another one.”

           “Because I’ve got two!”

           Cas lost use of his tongue.

           A tear slipped out of Jack’s eyes and he brushed it away quickly. “Whatever,” he said, getting to his feet, sniffling. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? It’s not going to happen. You have Parker and Dean has whoever’s baby he’s having and I have no one.” He tossed his almost full plate into the sink, the porcelain shattering, and stormed out of the kitchen.

           Some part of Cas’ brain urged him to go after him. Kelly would never leave him like that, never let him go to bed angry, and the guilt of ignoring Kelly’s ghost ate away at his stomach. But Cas couldn’t move. He mentally rewound the days, followed the timeline, and tried to tell himself that there was no guarantee the baby was his. How many people would Dean have slept with in that time? But Cas knew better. He knew Dean had a girlfriend before him. He knew Dean had been busy after him. He knew.

“You’ve been quiet,” Parker said as he looked up from his book.

           Cas glanced up at him, struggling with all the words inside of him, all the things he needed to say, all the things he didn’t want to say. Parker looked so good there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d entered his bedroom at night and Parker had already been there sitting, reading, his glasses halfway down his nose and his chest bare. Cas gave himself one last moment appreciating those abs.

           “I can put down the book, if you want.” Parker smiled.

           Cas wanted so badly to smile back. He so badly wanted easy back. Sure, Parker wasn’t perfect and he was never around but he was real and he loved him and he loved Jack. Cas hadn’t had anything so easy, so effortless, since he had Kelly. He missed it.

           Parker set down the book and leaned forward. He patted the mattress beside him. “What’s wrong?” he said. “You have that look on your face like when you ran over that cat.”

           “You said you’d stop reminding me of that.” Cas sighed and took a seat at the foot of the bed. He reached out on instinct and started to massage Parker’s feet. With a pleasurable sound, Parker leaned back into the pillow and let his eyes close. “I do need to talk to you,” Cas said.

           “So talk.”

           Cas bit his bottom lip. Even though Paker’s eyes were closed, he looked away from him. “Dean’s pregnant.”

           “And?”

           “And…” Cas tried to swallow the bile in his throat, the urge to vomit all over everything. He let Parker’s foot slip from his hands. “It’s mine.”

           A terrible silence followed. Cas could hear every sound the big house made – the creaks of the floorboards, the hum of the central heating, the ghost of Jack’s music in the next room. He could even hear Parker’s steady breathing. After what felt like a small eternity, Cas looked up to meet his boyfriend’s eyes.

           Parker was trying not to laugh.

           “You’re not mad?” Cas said.

           “That you’re banging Dean behind my back?” Parker chuckled and leaned forward. He took Cas’ face in his hands and kissed him. “You don’t think I’ve known that since I met the guy?”

           “I’m not…” Cas pulled away, shaking his head. “I’m not banging Dean. It was once. One time. That’s it.”

           “Then how are you even sure it’s yours?”

           “I just… I am.”

           Parker let out a heavy exhale and shook his head but said nothing. His eyes flicked over to his book like the conversation was boring him and he’d rather be reading.

           Cas stared at him. “Are you seriously not upset?”

           “Should I be?”

           “I just told you I cheated on you, that I got another man pregnant, and you’re… laughing.”

           Parker shrugged. “We’re in an open relationship.”

           “We most certainly are not.”

           Parker stared at him for a long moment, seeming genuinely shocked for the first time that night. Cas felt his heart sink right into his feet. Parker moved his legs in, finally sitting upright, and said, “We are. We definitely are. Where do you think I am all the time? What do you think I do at night?”

           “You’re cheating on me?”

           “It’s not cheating! We’re gay.”

           “It’s still cheating!” Cas stood up abruptly and started to pace. He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m not… we’re not… that’s not who I am, Parker! I’ve always been a one person guy. I always will be. And you’ve been… you’ve thought… who else did you think I was sleeping with?”

           “Other than Dean?” Parker shrugged. “I just thought it was something we didn’t talk about. When I told you about Oliver, you said you didn’t want to hear about it and I just assumed—”

           “I thought Oliver was your ex!”

           Parker pursed his lips and swung his legs off the bed. Slowly, carefully, he padded across the floor to catch Cas as he paced. He placed his hands on Cas’ arms and started to rub them gently. “Look, I’m sorry. I honestly thought you knew. I thought we had an understanding.”

           Cas threw him off and took a step back. “That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.”

           Parker sighed. “Plenty of people have open relationships.”

           “I have a son,” Cas said. “I had a wife. We have this house and a life and I thought…” Cas trailed off, swallowing all thought of engagements and marriages and more children with Parker. He couldn’t even feel his heart anymore. It was like it had gone numb. “I thought this was real.”

           “It is real.”

           “I’m not…” Cas sighed and buried his face in his hands. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I gave you the wrong impression. I’m sorry that I did whatever I did to make you think that this is what I want but it’s not what I want. I want monogamy and a marriage and a home for my son and I want to be a good example for him and I can’t… I can’t do this.”

           Parker frowned. “What do you mean?”

           “I mean I need you to leave.”

           Parker stared at him for a long moment, seemingly frozen in place. Cas wished he could freeze him in place, freeze this moment in place, go back in time and not even tell Parker about Dean. If he had swallowed his feelings and his thoughts and his beliefs, he could have kissed Parker’s chest and his lips and be well on his way to a good night’s sleep right now. Instead, he felt like he’d never sleep again. He already knew he’d spend the rest of the night re-examining his entire relationship with Parker, trying to see where he went wrong, what he’d done to give the impression that he wanted to be in an open relationship.

           Parker took a step back. He picked up his book. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll… I’ll sleep on the couch and I’ll be out by noon.”

           He was halfway out the door by the time Cas managed to mumble, “Thank you,” and he was gone before Cas fell asleep.

Dean rolled out from under the truck to take a breath of fresh air. He could feel his lungs working through the grease, his chest heaving. He had a momentary thought for the well-being of the baby but then he shook it off. It’s not like it mattered. Whether he wanted the thing or not, he couldn’t tell Cas so he couldn’t keep it.

           “Dean?”

           Speak of the devil.

           Dean turned his head towards the front of the garage and saw Cas’ silhouette framed in the midday sun. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes, took a deep breath to steady himself, and called out, “What? Needed to see me all sweaty to ruin those daydreams?”

           “Can you not joke?” Cas said.

           There was something about his voice that made Dean’s blood run cold. He dropped the wrench in his hand, sat up, and grabbed for the rag he’d set on the ground earlier. He wiped off his hands and then offered one to Cas. “Help me up?”

           Cas did so and then let go abruptly.

           Dean frowned at him. “What’s up?”

           “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me,” Cas said starting the conversation in the middle. Dean blinked, at a loss. Cas continued, “I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t want to know or that I wouldn’t help or that I wouldn’t… care.”

           “Can you be a little more specific?”

           “Dean, I don’t know what you want from me.” Cas sighed. “And I don’t even know what you think of me and it makes it really hard to be standing here asking if you’re okay, if you need anything, if you want me involved.”

           “Involved?”

           Cas bit his bottom lip.

           Dean shifted his stance, trying to catch Cas’ eye. When he couldn’t, he reached out and grabbed on to his shoulder, pulling him closer. Finally, Cas looked up at him with sad, wide blue eyes. Dean chuckled, to lighten the tension. “If you’re going to be mad at me, or whatever this is, can you at least let me know what it’s about?”

           “Jack told me.”

           “Jack told you what?”

           Cas took a deep breath and his face settled into hard lines. “That you’re pregnant.”

           Dean let his hand drop. Without really meaning to, he took a step back. “Oh. That.”

           “Yeah, that.” Cas stepped forward. Now he was trying to meet Dean’s eyes but Dean busied himself at the tool bench, trying to sort the hodgepodge of wrenches that his boss swore had rightful places on the hooks. Cas stopped a step or two behind him but Dean could still feel his presence, hear his breathing. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

           Dean shrugged. “Because it’s not a big deal? Because I don’t tell ninety percent of the guys who knock me up?”

           “I’m your best friend.”

           “So?” Dean turned around. He had forgotten to take a breath, forgotten to steady himself, and looking into Cas’ eyes, he knew he didn’t have complete control over his expression. He tried for cold, distant, but maybe he looked as scared as he felt. “Best friend or not, you were still just a one night stand. What would you care?”

           “I care.”

           “You said it was a mistake. You said forget about it.” Dean leaned back against the bench. “So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

           Cas stared at him for a long moment and then shook his head. “I didn’t do that alone. You agreed it was a onetime thing, that it could never happen again. We weren’t… we aren’t…” Cas swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

           “I don’t want anything from you. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

           “Well, tough shit. I’m your friend. I’m the father. I want to help.”

           “You have a life, Cas. You have a boyfriend.”

           “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore.”

           Dean felt a stupid spark of hope in his chest, something he knew he had to crush fast. He bit down hard on his tongue and summoned all the stupidity he had in him, all the anger. He channelled all his grief into madness and snapped, “So you found out I was pregnant and thought, what? ‘Better marry him, too. Better prove I’m a good fucking guy all over again.’ You thought, ‘I’ll just do the right thing and dump my boyfriend for my best friend who I fucked because he’s slutty and a good lay’? Was that your logic, Cas? You thought you’d just marry the next poor sap you knocked up?”

           Cas shook his head. “That’s not fair.”

           “Couldn’t marry Parker.” Dean threw his hands up. “Because he fucked you. And you can only marry people that you knock u—”

           Cas slammed Dean back into the tool bench, his hand half-wrapped around Dean’s throat, fire in his eyes. His teeth bared, he hissed, “Don’t you fucking dare talk about Kelly like that.”

           Dean shoved Cas off and straightened his shirt collar. “You know I’m right.”

           “You’re not right! Do you see me proposing? Do you see me down on one knee?” Cas shouted. He turned away for a moment, biting his fist. Dean could feel himself shaking, could feel hot tears in his eyes but he held them back by force of will. Cas let out a heavy breath. “So what if I want to do the right thing? You’re my best friend. I want to make sure you’re okay, that you’re taken care of. That’s all.”

           “I don’t want you to take care of me.” The lie sounded thin even to his own ears. “You have your own life, Cas. I don’t want to screw that up because we got drunk and fucked.”

           Cas deflated. Dean watched him do it, watched the anger leach out of him. He resisted the urge to rub the sore spot on his neck, to wring apologies out of Cas. Cas took one step forward, then another. “It’s not screwing up my life,” he whispered. “It’s whatever you want to do. I want to help.”

           “And what if I keep it? Then what?”

           Cas shrugged. “We figure it out.”

           “We co-parent?”

           “We did it with Jack.”

           Dean couldn’t stop the sob that broke through his chest. He turned away almost immediately but Cas’ hand touched his back and he had to close his eyes against it all. He shook his head. “I can’t, Cas. I can’t do it again. I won’t.”

           “Won’t do what?”

           “Play pretend.” Dean gasped out the words. He braced his hands against the tool bench and forced himself to breathe. He licked his lips. “How much of that night do you remember?”

           “All of it.”

           Dean refused to let his breath catch at that. He bent further into himself, forced his voice to steady. “So what do you think I meant when I said I couldn’t do this with you? That I’d been good about not doing it with you?”

           “That you hadn’t fucked me yet because we’re friends.”

           “I’d hadn’t fucked you yet because I’m in love with you.” Dean whirled around, the words leaving his lips before he could stop them. And when he saw the shock on Cas’ face, the ice in his expression, Dean’s brain whirled for ways to backpedal. But his lips kept moving. “Every day, every night, that I didn’t fuck you, was like this little victory because it meant I loved you enough to let you go. It meant I loved you enough that I didn’t have to fuck you, to have you. I could let you have a real life, have Kelly, have Jack, have Parker and you wouldn’t have to deal with me. Because we both know that in love or not, I can’t make shit work out in my life. I can’t fix anything, I can’t be anything, and I sure as hell don’t deserve you. So every time I didn’t do it, didn’t kiss you, didn’t touch you, it was a victory. It was how I knew somewhere, somehow, I was still a good guy deep down.”

           Cas licked his lips. “Dean…”

           “Don’t say it.” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face. “Because now I’ve fucking done it and what does that mean? It means I can’t even fucking love you right.”

           Cas opened his mouth again but nothing came out.

           Dean shook his head. “Don’t say anything, okay? Just leave. Just forget about it. Just do all the hundred things you said you were going to do the morning after when you broke my fucking heart.”

           Silence. Then, in the smallest voice Dean had ever heard, “I didn’t mean to.”

           Dean chuckled. “Yeah. I know.”

           Cas took a step backwards, towards the door of the garage, then stopped. “Are we… I mean…” He took a deep breath. “Are we still friends?”

           “I don’t know, Cas.”

           After what felt like an eternity, Cas gave a curt nod and turned for the door. Dean turned away, unable to watch him leave. Instead, he stared at his knuckles going white around the edge of the tool bench and counted his breaths, counted his heartbeats, just to remind himself he was still alive.

When Cas got home, he felt like he didn’t exist anymore. He went through the motions of shrugging off his jacket, hanging up his keys, and dropping his briefcase. He even remembered to change out of the grocery store vest and put it in the closet. But the whole time he couldn’t feel his fingers, couldn’t remember the last thing he did, couldn’t form a coherent thought. He ended up staring at the wall until Jack came home.

           He stared at the wall until a knock came at the door to his bedroom. He forced himself to blink. He ran a hand through his hair. With a sigh, he said, “Come in.”

           Jack poked his head in. “You didn’t pick me up after practice.”

           “Sorry.” Cas shot his son a weak, apologetic smile. His eyes glazed over him, not really seeing him, and for a painful second, he wished he looked more like Kelly. Jack looked so much like him that sometimes it was like looking at photos of his younger self. And he supposed Jack not looking like Kelly was a blessing, less painful, but sometimes he wished he could see her more clearly in her son.

           Jack took a step into the room, twisting his fingers. “Are you all right?”

           “You don’t have to worry about me.”

           “I know. But I do.” Jack looked around the room. “Haven’t seen Parker today.”

           “He’s gone.”

           Jack nodded slowly, his eyes still wandering around the space. It looked the same to Cas – same golden yellow walls, same white floral comforter, same cherry wood furniture – but Jack said, “It seems emptier,” and for the first time, Cas thought about how much stuff Parker had. His cologne was gone from the dresser, his brushes, his sprays. The books and reading glasses and old water cups he left on the bedside table were gone. His jackets on the back of the door, his slacks laid neatly on the back of the green armchair, his stupid collection of hats that he never wore, all gone.

           Cas saw the room through new eyes, saw how little of it was him, saw what people must think of him. He was empty and aimless and he had no obsessions, no habits, no signs he lived in a place. How could anyone love someone like that? How could someone as animated and alive as Dean love someone like him?

           “I heard some of the fight last night,” Jack said.

           Cas narrowed his eyes at him. “How much?”

           Jack shrugged. “Have you talked to Dean yet?”

           “Yes.”

           “And?” Jack brightened, the one word filled with so much hope and joy and inflection that Cas’ heart broke a little.

           He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned towards the dresser and looked in the mirror. He hated his reflection – the unshaven stubble, the dark circles under his eyes, the wrinkles creasing his forehead.

           “Why not?” Jack stepped forward. He still sounded happy. “If the baby is yours, if you slept with Dean—”

           “You heard what part of the conversation exactly?” Cas snapped, a little sharper than he intended.

           Jack barrelled forward. “I don’t see how this isn’t a good thing. You two are having a baby. You’re going to be a family, finally. How isn’t this a good thing?”

           “It doesn’t… work like that.”

           “Why not?”

           “Because we’re not together. Because we’re not in love.”

           “That’s just bullshit!” Jack shouted. He had the audacity to look outraged like Cas was hurting him, like Cas meant to do this to him. “You don’t love him? He practically lived here when I was a kid! I thought he was my goddamn dad!”

           “I’m sorry! How many fucking times do I have to tell you I’m sorry about that?” Cas felt the anger in his throat, in his stomach, like an acid eating away at his patience. He glared at his son, unable to control himself. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry that letting Dean stay here, that letting him help raise you, made you think he was your dad. He’s not. He’s never going to be.”

           “Why not?”

           “Because he’s not my boyfriend.”

           “You fucked him!”

           “Unfortunately the world isn’t that cut and dry, Jack! Unfortunately not everyone I’m attracted to or everyone I fuck is going to become your father. Unfortunately that’s not the way the world works.” Cas huffed out a breath. “And I’m sorry you’re attached to him and I’m sorry this hurts you and I’m sorry you’re confused, but throwing this little hissy fit isn’t going to change things. He’s not going to be coming around here anymore.”

           Jack scoffed. “What? You knock a guy up and then you’re just no longer his friend? You’d ditch him like that? It’s not his fucking fault you can’t be bothered to use a condom.”

           “It wasn’t like that,” Cas hissed.

           “Then what was it like? What happened? What could he have done to make you be so fucking awful to a man you claim is your best fucking friend? A man who helped raise me? A man you fucked for fun while in a relationship with someone else? Good fucking example there, too, Dad. I’ll make sure to keep that one in mind when I—”

           “Shut up!” Cas yelled. He took a step towards Jack but stopped himself when Jack scrambled backwards too fast. Cas bit down on his bottom lip too hard and felt the skin tear. “You wanna know what happened? Dean said he loves me. He’s always loved me.”

           Jack stared at him for a long moment. Deflated, he whispered, “Then what’s the problem?”

           “I don’t love him,” Cas said. “Not like that.”

           “Bullshit.”

           “It’s not… it’s not bullshit, Jack.” Cas heaved in a breath and took a gentler step towards his son. Jack still backed off, crossing his arms against his chest and curling in on himself. “I married your mother because I loved her. I still love and miss her. I asked Parker to move in because I loved him. I wish I didn’t still love him.” Cas tried to bite back a sob but didn’t quite manage it. “I slept with Dean because… because it’s felt like something that’s needed to happen for my whole life. He’s attractive. I care about him. We’re both into men but… I don’t love him. I don’t want to be with him.”

           “Even if he has your kid?” Jack’s voice broke.

           Cas wanted to reach out to him, to hug him, but he just nodded. This part of Kelly he recognized in his son – the need to physically separate herself from the thing causing her pain. “I’ll help out if he wants to keep it. But I’m not… I can’t be with Dean.”

           “Why not?”

           “We have different lives.” Cas could hear the weakness of his own argument. He could feel his heart breaking and cracking with every lie he told. Of course he loved Dean. Of course he wanted to be with him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not in love with him. I never will be.”

           Jack broke into a sob and his back hit the wall. Cas tried to step toward him, to comfort him, but Jack scrambled out of the room before he even got close. He slammed the door behind him. And Cas stood still, stood frozen, trying to convince himself that he was still doing what was best for his kid, what was best for him, what was best for Dean.

           Dean had been right. Loving him and staying away from him was the best thing he ever did. And Cas knew the best thing he could do was pretend that he didn’t love him back and let the whole thing get swept under the rug. In a week, Dean would have someone new. In a month, Cas would put himself back out there. In less than a year, Jack would be off at college and he wouldn’t need two dads anymore. He wouldn’t need any at all.

Dean stared at the unopen beer on the counter. If he opened it, he was aborting the baby. If he didn’t, he was keeping it. He had been staring at it so long beads of condensation dripped down the glass leaving a neat ring on the kitchen counter.

           A knock came at his door. Dean frowned. The bell from the outer door hadn’t gone off and he hadn’t buzzed anyone in. It happened sometimes – the college kids who lived in the building had drunk friends who apparently couldn’t read damn numbers when their vision went blurry. Dean continued his staring contest with the beer.

           Then the knocking came more rapidly. Dean sighed and turned away, ready to give the kids directions to wherever their asshole friends really lived. But when he opened the door, it wasn’t a pack of drunk college students. It was Jack with a stuffed backpack and tears trailing down his cheeks.

           Before Dean could get a word out, Jack said, “Can I come in? There’s someone screaming down the hall.”

           Dean poked his head out and heard the echoes. He swore and ushered Jack into his apartment before shutting the door and locking it. “Don’t worry about it,” he said as he turned back to Jack. He swiped his hands over his lips. “It’s just Jerry. He’s a bit of a mental case.”

           “Shouldn’t he be in the hospital?”

           Dean shrugged. “Shouldn’t you be in school? Or…” He glanced up at the microwave clock, astounded by how much time he had wasted. The whole apartment was getting dark, the sun long gone, and Dean flicked a light switch. “At home?”

           “I ran away.”

           Dean snorted his laugh. He couldn’t quite make the actual sound as he reached for his phone. “Good move, kid. Run away to the one person guaranteed to call your dad the second you show up. Great plan.” His thumb flicked over to Cas’ name.

           “You’d still call him?” Jack said. “After everything?”

           Dean raised his eyes to look at the kid. He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re his kid and you ran away.”

           Jack shrugged. “He knocked you up and now you’re not speaking.”

           Dean locked his phone but kept it in the palm of his hand as his lips thinned into a line. He stared at Jack for a long moment. “How’d you know that?” he said. “Did he tell you?”

           “Sort of. I kinda just put it together.”

           Dean sighed. “Is that why you ran away?”

           “I guess.” Jack shifted from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to know what you two were gonna do about the baby and he started shouting at me, saying you’re not my father, that you two aren’t going to be together just because I want you to be, that he doesn’t love you.” Dean flinched and Jack added, “I don’t believe that last part.”

           Dean flipped his phone over in his hand. “He has a right to be mad. You can’t just make adults do what you want them to.”

           “Why not? They’re always trying to make me do what they want.”

           “Touché.”

           Jack looked around the room, his eyes wandering from one corner to the next, cataloguing the place. His eyes rested on the beer. “You know you can’t drink when you’re pregnant, right?”

           “I do.”

           “Can I have it then?”

           “And I’ll explain to Cas why you’re drunk?” Dean brushed past him and picked up the beer. He swung open the door to the fridge and placed it carefully inside. “Nice try, kid.”

           “Did you know my mom?”

           Dean turned to him, silent.

           “Dad never really talks about her,” Jack said. “Even after he sat me down and explained you weren’t my dad, that I had a mom, he never really… told me about her. I have those videos she made. I guess she was really sick when she was pregnant with me but… they’re mostly just her telling me I’m a good person, that she can feel it. I think she was… she was kinda losing it at that point.”

           “Yeah,” Dean said. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He thought Cas had had it a long time ago. Biting his bottom lip, he turned back to the fridge and brought the beer back out. He slid it across the counter to Jack. “Sit down.”

           Jack took a seat on one of the stools and fiddled with the beer. He didn’t open it or ask for a bottle opener as Dean paced the small kitchen space before settling to stand in front of Jack.

           “Kelly was a sweet girl,” Dean said. “A little religious, a little rebellious. A bit of a preacher’s daughter fantasy.” He swallowed hard and looked down at the counter. “Cas met her in a religious studies class and he loved her before he even knew her name. Said it felt like… destiny.”

           Jack placed his hand over Dean’s. “Is this hard for you to talk about?”

           Dean smiled and shook his head. “Kelly was the right person for your dad. She was happy and motivated and a little crazy. When she found out she was pregnant… she had named you before the timer was even up on the test. And then she started getting ready for you to come into the world before her first trimester was over, even though all the doctors told her not to. She was at high-risk for a miscarriage because of some family history. Cas was worried sick about her. He wanted… he begged her to rethink keeping you. Not because he didn’t want you but because he didn’t want to lose Kelly.”

           Jack swallowed hard. He pulled away, cracked the top of the beer, and said, “I didn’t know that,” before guzzling down a quarter of the bottle’s contents.

           Dean pulled the bottle away gently. “He loves you so fucking much, Jack. Kelly loved you more than anything in the world and Cas wouldn’t dare resent you when it wasn’t what she wanted.”

           Jack nodded shakily.

           “She was on bed rest by her fourth month of pregnancy. And by the fifth, she was talking about how you were a powerful prophet and the son of an angel.” Dean swallowed. “The psychiatrists couldn’t find the right mix of pills that put you at little enough risk that she would take them. By the last trimester, she was so sick she could barely move. She ate only because she knew you needed the nutrients. I… I spent every fucking night at your house because Kelly wouldn’t sleep and Cas couldn’t stop crying and it was the hardest fucking month of my life.”

           Dean blinked back the tears in his eyes. “When she died… you weren’t born yet. I know Cas always said she died in labour, after labour, whatever. But she died about a week before your due date. They cut you out of her.”

           Dean took Jack’s hand again and squeezed it tight. “Breathe,” he reminded him. “I didn’t stay to take care of you because I wanted to or Cas asked me to help. I mean, of course I wanted to, but… Cas wasn’t getting out of bed when you were crying. He couldn’t feed you. He was scared to touch you.”

           “He didn’t want me,” Jack whispered.

           “No. No, not at all.” Dean licked his lips, trying to think of the way to explain it, trying to remember how Cas had explained it to him. “He thought if… if he did it wrong, if he held you wrong, if he fed you wrong… he was terrified he was going to kill you. He was so scared to do it wrong because he knew Kelly had died for you. She loved you more than she loved herself and he wasn’t going to be able to forgive himself if he fucked you up, if he hurt you. So I bought him the books, showed him the YouTube tutorials, taught him how I raised Sam. And that’s why I didn’t leave before you were old enough to try to figure things out, old enough to think I was your dad, your family. Because Cas was scared. And I didn’t take care of Kelly, I didn’t protect her. I didn’t think I could. Maybe I couldn’t have. But I could protect you. I could stop Cas from losing you.”

           Dean’s throat felt dry and his eyes felt wet. He was aware he was gripping Jack’s fingers too tight but he couldn’t let them go. A weight had settled on his heart but it also felt like a different one had lifted.

           “You really do love him,” Jack said. “Don’t you?”

           “Of course.” Dean smiled. “I’m always going to love him.”

           “And you’re going to have his baby?”

           “Maybe.”

           Jack nodded. “I know you’re mad at him. I know you… can be mad at him. That you have a reason to be. But… I think you need to forgive him. I think you need to invite him in. I don’t think he’s going to come to the right conclusion on his own.”

           “And what’s the right conclusion?”

           “That he loves you. That he wants this.”

           Dean shook his head. “He doesn’t.”

           “He does.” Jack took another sip of the beer. “I think he’s just… he’s afraid you’re gonna replace my mom. I think that’s the only reason he asked you to leave in the first place.”

           Dean considered that. He’d never thought about it that way. He just thought he’d run out of usefulness, that Cas had stopped being scared, that Cas didn’t want his son thinking he was his dad. Slowly, Dean nodded and stood up to his full height, his hand slipping from Jack’s. “I’m gonna call him now.”

           “Okay.”

           “Don’t move.” Dean stepped out of the kitchen and hit Cas’ number. He held the phone to his ear and held his breath.

           “Dean,” Cas said, sounding relieved and stressed all at the same time. “Now’s not really a good time.” Doors slammed on the other end of the line. Floorboards creaked under Cas’ feet.

           “He’s here,” Dean said.

           “What?”

           “Jack.” Dean swallowed. “He’s here. He showed up… twenty minutes ago. I would have called sooner, I just—”

           “Fuck.” Cas let out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dean. I know you don’t… I mean, I know…” He groaned. “Look. I can be there in ten minutes to pick him up.”

           Dean hesitated. “Don’t.”

           “What?”

           “Look, every time my dad found Sam two seconds after he ran away, he wouldn’t stick around very long. Give the kid a while to cool off. He can crash on the couch.”

           “Are you sure?”

           “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you in the morning.” Dean hung up the phone before Cas could protest or apologize or thank him. Hearing Cas’ voice was hard enough right now without it being breathless and broken. He turned back into the kitchen to see Jack watching him, the beer in his hands but still nearly full.

           “Thanks,” Jack said, quiet. “I’ll stay out of your hair.”

           Dean shook his head. He stepped forward and tousled Jack’s hair. “For the record, kid, I really do wish I was your dad. I just don’t think it’s ever gonna happen.”

Cas’ hands shook as he hit the buzzer on Dean’s apartment building. It was early still – the sun had just come up and birds were singing – but Cas had to be at work in an hour and Jack needed to go to school. The door buzzed in return and he let out a sigh of relief – part of him hadn’t believed Dean would be awake this early.

           He made his way up the familiar staircase. The place hadn’t changed since he’d helped Dean move in eleven years ago. The same dings were still in the walls, plus a couple new ones. The lights still crackled overhead like a fire hazard waiting to happen. Cas resisted the urge to reach out and tighten a light bulb shaking in its socket; with his luck, he’d probably be electrocuted on the spot.

           He paused at Dean’s door. He remembered shutting it behind him that first night, pausing and realizing he’d made a huge mistake. What did Cas know about being a single father? What would he ever do without Dean? Had he really panicked so badly when Jack called Dean “dad” that he’d wanted him out of the house, out of his life, away from everything? Suddenly, Cas couldn’t make himself knock.

           The door flew open. Dean held up a hand to Cas before he even got a word out and said, “Look, I’m not gonna lie, I did a bad thing. But in my defence, your kid’s a fucking lightweight.”

           Cas blinked. “What?”

           “I let him have a beer and now he’s vomiting up his stomach contents like he got high on acid at a Pink Floyd concert.”

           Panic and silence and worry washed over Cas in a big wave. Then, despite himself, he laughed. “Really? One beer?”

           “He didn’t even finish it.”

           Cas laughed harder and leaned his weight into the door frame to hold himself up. Dean smiled back at him and for one, beautiful moment, Cas forgot how awkward this was supposed to be. He forgot what Dean had told him, that Jack had ran away from home, that he needed to get to work soon. He laughed until the sound left him, then took a deep breath and smiled. “You’re a horrible baby-sitter.”

           Dean shrugged. “I was the perfect baby-sitter when he was little. Now I can at least be the cool uncle.”

           “Parent,” Cas corrected. “You’re the cool parent.”

           Dean looked at him with something between confusion and sadness.

           “I’m sorry,” Cas said, “and not just for… knocking you up and abandoning you and then acting like it was some sort of stupid obligation to take care of you. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the credit for raising Jack. I’m sorry I was such a fucking mess after Kelly died. I’m… I’m sorry I ever asked you to move out.”

           Dean shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “It was the right move.” He glanced over his shoulder as if hoping Jack would appear and cut the conversation short.

           Cas hoped the opposite. “Have you made a decision? About the baby?”

           “Yeah.” Dean rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “I’m gonna keep it.”

           Cas nodded.

           “And, uh, ‘cause I guess you’re going to be around and all, and you’re my best friend, and this is really fucking stupid.” Dean took a deep breath and stepped back into the apartment. He gestured for Cas to come in and then closed the door behind them. Without looking back at Cas, without moving away from the door, he finished, “You can help out.”

           “It’s the least I can do,” Cas said, looking around like he’d never been in the apartment before. He just didn’t know where to look anymore. He didn’t know where was safe. “After all, you helped me out.”

           Dean smiled and Cas met his eyes. For a second, they were silent, just staring at each other, and then they fell over each other trying to apologize. Cas knew he was repeating himself, saying things he already said as he approached Dean again, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to hear Dean say he was sorry for what he said or what he did or how he was ruining his life. He wasn’t ruining his life. He never could. But he didn’t have the words for that.

           Cas took Dean in his arms and hugged him tight. The air went out of both of them – their words cut off short – and Cas breathed in the scent of him. For once, he smelled like soap instead of grease. He pulled him in tighter, loving the feel of his arms around him, and buried his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. When he closed his eyes, he felt like he could stand there forever.

           Jack cleared his throat.

           Cas pulled back to look at him and let a smile fall across his lips. He knew some smartass comment was on his son’s lips but instead of waiting for it, he stepped towards him and hugged him as well. He kissed the top of his head. “You had me worried sick.”

           Jack grumbled as he tried to push him off. “I’m still mad at you.”

           “I know,” Cas said. “I’ll make it up to you.”

           “Breakfast?” Jack said hopefully.

           Cas sighed. “You have school. I have work.”

           “Call in sick,” Dean said. He slapped Cas on the back and then pulled him close with one arm. He really did smell good. He looked better. Cas heard his stomach grumble. “We can go to that diner on the corner you like.”

           “Dad likes a diner?” Jack said.

           “Oh yeah,” Dean said. “It used to be the only place you’d fall asleep.”

           Jack smiled a little. “The place with the yellow walls and those fly-infested lights?”

           Cas nodded. “Yeah. That one.”

           “Seems unsanitary.”

           Cas and Dean laughed. With limited commotion, they all made it out the door and started the walk down the street. Jack chattered along the way, mostly to fill the air. Cas assumed it was because he didn’t want to talk about his punishment for running away from home. He didn’t mind. Sometimes, when Jack went on like this, he could imagine Kelly was still around, telling him all the facts he didn’t know at a rapid-fire pace.

           He felt his throat getting tight as he watched the back of Jack’s head. He was two or three feet in front of them, taking long strides on his short legs. Cas reached out and took Dean’s hand in his. He didn’t know why. Their fingers curled together and he squeezed. He thought, maybe, things would be okay.

Cas had thought Kelly’s pregnancy was bad. In reality, Kelly’s pregnancy had been bad for her. Dean’s pregnancy was bad for everyone. He called at two a.m. craving ice cream and too lazy to get out of bed. He spent a whole day reading pregnancy books and then would recite facts from them with Jack like they were both studying for a test. He had vitamin schedules and colour-coded charts for what should happen when – though Cas questioned whether Dean had made those himself or Sam had put them together on his computer. And every once in a while, when a request was too outlandish or Dean hesitated before getting the words out, he got the distinct impression Dean was fucking with him for the hell of it.

           At three months, Cas managed to get Dean to agree to move in. They moved him into the guest bedroom and transformed Parker’s old office into a nursery. And Cas continually woke up to Dean in his shower, shirtless Dean wandering the halls, midnight snack Dean in nothing but his boxers. And in love or not, Cas was only a man with eyes.

           Dean got really horny in his fifth month of pregnancy. Cas didn’t notice it at first – the looks and flirtatious greetings were par for the course with Dean, always had been – but then he met him in the kitchen at one a.m. And Dean leaned against his shoulder, his lips pressing kisses into the fabric of his t-shirt, and he looked up at Cas with puppy dog eyes. And Cas, being but a weak man with eyes, kissed him.

           For as long as they could, they kept it a secret from Jack. Sneaking around in his own house was something Cas was unwaveringly fond of. The stolen touches, the kisses, sneaking Dean into his bedroom late at night. He thought they were getting away from it until one night when they were watching a movie as a family and Dean put his head on his shoulder. Cas thought it was innocent enough until Jack said, “If you guys are gonna be gross, like always, leave the room.” Dean had laughed and given Cas a kiss while Jack faked disgust.

           Cas still felt a distance between them even as Dean’s belly grew, even when he woke to the soft look in his eyes, even when they traded lazy kisses before brushing their teeth. He felt the baby kick against the palm of his hand. He saw Jack happier than he ever had been. He still felt like something was missing.

           Braxton Hicks hit them early. Too early. Cas panicked and drove Dean to the hospital at five in the morning. He tried to argue with the doctor that he didn’t care they were Braxton Hicks contractions – Dean was only eight months along, something was wrong – but the doctor wouldn’t hear him. Dean kissed his neck and told him everything was fine, to just breathe, but the fear ate Cas up inside.

           He recognized this distance like a shot to the heart. As he drove home with Dean holding his hand, he was shaking. By the time he parked the car, he was crying. Without a word, Dean pulled him into his arms and kissed his hair, waiting in the silence for an explanation.

           All Cas could manage was, “I can’t lose you too.”

           “You’re not going to lose me,” Dean said but Cas knew he couldn’t promise that.

           Dean went into labour a week early. Cas kept himself together long enough to get to the hospital, to hand him over to the doctors, and then he left the room immediately. His legs gave out under him and he started to cry in earnest. Footsteps approached him but he didn’t look up. A body settled beside him and then Jack’s hands curled over his.

           “It’s going to be okay,” Jack whispered.

           Cas shook his head. “You don’t know that.”

           “You know,” Jack said, “mom would want us to pray.”

           Cas started crying harder and Jack began to mutter a prayer under his breath, keeping the words steady and clear. He pressed his fingers harder against Cas’ hands until Cas caught his breath and started to speak the words with him. Slowly, his breath steadied and the words came easier, rhythmically, to his tongue. When they finished, Jack said, “Amen,” then added, “Mom? Please help us keep Dean.”

           Cas turned his head and kissed Jack’s temple hard, pulling his son into his side as he cried.

           Soon, they went in to see Dean who was swearing at the nurses while eating ice chips. When he saw Cas, he said, “Babe, please tell them I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

           Cas chuckled and took his hand. “You can’t eat now.”

           “Fuck you.”

           Cas leaned down and kissed him. He felt calm spread through him and he whispered, “I love you.”

           Dean stared at him for a long moment. Surprise was evident in his features, the fight gone out of him for a moment. Then the contractions hit and he was swearing again and he bit out, “Do you really think now is the best fucking time to tell me that? Couldn’t have done it a week ago? A month ago? When I got pregnant with your stupid baby?”

           Cas laughed.

           “Don’t laugh at me,” Dean bit out.

           “Breathe,” Cas said.

           Jack imitated the Lamaze breathing and slowly, begrudgingly, Dean copied it. When the contraction passed, he leaned back into the bed and closed his eyes. “I love you, too,” he whispered. Cas kissed him again.

           Two days passed with Dean in labour. Cas alternated between sleeping half on Dean’s bed and dozing in the waiting room with Jack. They ate shitty cafeteria food and listened to Dean complain about ice chips. Jack went home to grab clothes and magazines and his laptop. Sam showed up halfway through Day Two with cigars for when the baby was born. Dean laughed even as Cas frowned at both of them and then sternly told Jack he was not allowed to smoke.

           “Come on,” Dean whined. “Just one, babe. For the baby.”

           “No,” Cas said. “That’s stupid.”

           Then Dean kissed him and nothing felt all that stupid anymore.

           The birth went smoothly – or as smoothly as it could go with Dean swearing at everyone and crushing Cas’ fingers in his hand – but both parent and baby were safe, happy, and healthy. Cas cried for an hour after the doctor told him everything was fine and Jack brought him back with prayers, thanking Kelly for helping them out.

           Cas went in to see Dean and their new baby girl. Dean looked up at him with a soft smile and shifted to let Cas sit beside him on the bed. Cas curled up next to him, leaned against his shoulder, needing contact, needing to make sure that Dean was real, that he was alive. He felt the final pieces of the wall break away, the last of the distance between them snap. He reached out and smoothed down the few strands of thin blonde hair on his daughter’s head. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you both.”

           Dean kissed the side of his head. “I love you both, too.”

           “What are we going to call her?”

           “Hear me out,” Dean whispered. Cas looked into his eyes, saw the soft smile on his face. “You see, I had this sense during my pregnancy, every time anything went wrong, that Kelly was watching over us. That she didn’t want anything bad to happen to you ever again. And I thought, since she did that for us, maybe we could name the baby after her.”

           Cas couldn’t blink through his tears. He tried but everything remained blurry. Not trusting his voice, he nodded and pressed a kiss to Dean’s shoulder.

           “Kelly,” Dean repeated softly. He pulled the baby closer, kissed the top of her head. “Welcome to the family.”

[samwinlover-blog]

Penny For A Cup

Pairing: Sam x Reader Characters: Sam, Reader, Dean Warnings: fluff, light swearing, little bit of angst, businessman!Sam, barista!reader, coffee shop AU Summary: The reader owns a little coffee shop in New York city called, The Manhattan Mocha, and Sam Winchester is a frequent costumer of hers. She’s always had a slight crush on the sharp business man who comes in for coffee everyday, and has even memorized his order: black coffee, double shot of expresso- intriguing and mysterious just as he is.  Tag List: @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove @evyiione@mogaruke @aliensdeservebetter @spnfanficpond​ @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@evyiione@mogaruke@aliensdeservebetter@27bmm@craving-cas @spnfanficpond​ @amanda-teaches  @myplaceofthingsilove  @spectaculicious@bambinovak@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@padackles2010@mamaredd123@milkymilky-cocopuff @iwantthedean@zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat@spntrista @d-s-winchester@just-another-busy-fangirl@winchesterprincessbride@waywardjoy@supernaturalyobsessed@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname@sandlee44@fangirl1802@kittenofdoomage@evyiione @winchestersmut@purgatoan@mogaruke @therewillbeblood@megansescape @taste-of-dean@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid  @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala@deathtonormalcy56@wildfirewinchester@notnaturalanahi@jensen-jarpad@impalaimagining@fangirlextraordinaire@itseverythingilike@jesspfly@lovekittykat21@mysteriouslyme81@mrswhozeewhatsis@aiaranradnay@supernatural-jackles@girl-next-door-writes@spnsasha@27bmm@spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@spectaculicious@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@spn-imagines-to-feel@spn-ficfanatic@cleverdame@saxxxology@jensen-jarpad @keepcalmandcarryondean dancingpanda137

Masterlist Here!

*I work very hard on these fics and feedback is very much appreciated*

“Morning, (Y/N)!” You hear a string of your coworkers call as you walk through the front door, the jingle of its bell ringing through the shop. Looking past the counter where you’d start working in a few minutes, your eyes found a home on the blackboard above- and your shop’s name written in an exquisite cursive in the center. 

The Manhattan Mocha, aka your manifestation of a dream you’d had since middle school- to own your own coffee shop. Originally you’d come to New York to go to law school- Cornell, actually- but two years in you took a look at your life and found that you hated it. The same morning you realized that even if you made it through school, the pencil pushing would never end, so you’d decided to make a change. You’d given it all up, your degree, your spot at one of the nation’s top schools, and the future financial stability you craved. 

The first few months after dropping out were tough, and you had next to no money. You’d flown through odd jobs until you’d found one you loved: being a barista. It had been a childhood dream of yours to own your own coffee shop one day, but it had always been pushed aside, being as the coffee industry wasn’t exactly lucrative. 

You started out working at Cup ‘O Joe, just sweeping and clearing out tables. But over time you’d worked your way up the ranks, until you were pretty much running the place. That’s when the idea first came to you: if you were doing so well at Cup ‘O Joe, then why not own your own place? 

At first you hadn’t flat out quit your job, but you’d gone from full time to part time and really threw yourself into the mix. After a few weeks you’d already bought your own store front, and with the help of your roommates you had the interior set up in no time. 

Decorating had been the highlight of your week, and you’d absolutely adored crafting centerpieces or message boards for the shops interior. When you were finished, it was one of the proudest moments of your life. Everywhere you looked, you fell in love with what you saw, and all that was left to do was open for business. 

You didn’t know if it was because of the location, or just the time of year, but everything started off with a bang. Within no time people were lining up to buy your coffee and assorted breakfast items, and you quickly got “regulars”. Honestly, dropping out of law school had been the best decision of your life, and everything felt really complete for about a year after you first opened the Manhattan Mocha. 

That was until your little brother died suddenly. 

Apparently he’d had a rare blood disorder that had gone unnoticed for most of his life, until it eventually killed him. Only two years younger than you, Noah died at the age of 20 with so much more of his life left to live- and it had broken your heart. 

When you first heard the news you didn’t believe it, and went on that way for a few days until it finally sunk in. You’d been wild: fits of rage plagued your days and you couldn’t stop wondering why something as trivial as his doctor’s neglect had taken Noah away from you. Over time and a lot of trial and error, your wounds eventually healed and you got your life back on track. But you never went back to the person you were before he’d died, and sometimes you’d wonder if you would ever be able to. 

When you first walked into your shop, you waved hello to a few of the early birds and immediately got to work. Putting on your apron and giving your best friend Alisha, who owned the store along with you and two other friends, you started the coffees of your regulars who would be in at any moment. 

You and Alisha had your own system, and, working in tandem, you effectively brewed, foamed, drizzled and served up coffee along with various breakfast items.

About 20 minutes into the morning, when the store hit its first lull after most of your customers had gone to work, Alisha approached you with a wink, “So, did you talk to lover boy today?” 

She was referring to Sam, the mysterious man who showed up everyday at 8 to order his coffee. With either a witty remark or a sweet comment to you, he’d always take his drink to go and wave goodbye, usually shouting, “See you tomorrow!” over his shoulder. 

He’d been one of your regulars ever since the store first opened, and you’d always had a secret crush on him. You didn’t know if it was the freshly ironed suit he always wore or his unearthly good looks, but it was fair to say that you were smitten. 

He hadn’t shown up that morning though, which was unusual for Sam. From the outwardly impressions you got of him, he seemed like a pretty punctual person: arriving and leaving at the same time almost everyday. 

But the clock hanging above the front door read 8:15 and he still hadn’t shown, maybe he was sick? 

Looking over, you saw Alisha was smirking and shimmying her shoulders at you from across the bar, you just shook your head and groaned in response, “He’s definitely not ‘lover boy’, and no I haven’t- he probably isn’t coming today.” 

She sauntered over to the counter you were sitting on and started twirling her dish towel around in the air, “You should give him your number the next time you see him!”

You just rolled your eyes but she pressed on, “Seriously! Oh! Or write a pick up line on his coffee- I did that with Mark and it totally worked!” 

“Oh yeah- which one was Mark again? The one with the tattoo of his mother or the one who was actually living out of his car?” You quipped back, earning a slap across the arm with her dish towel- thank God it wasn’t wet. 

“Hey! No fair-” She yelled and would have started to attack you more, but she was interrupted by the familiar jingle of the front door’s bell- which meant a customer had arrived. 

You immediately straightened out and plastered a smile across your face, the one you usually donned when interacting with customers. But when you saw who it was, you relaxed and resumed your previous stance: it was Sam. 

He rushed through the door and up to the counter where you were lounging, his hair unkept and his tie definitely not on correctly, “Hey! Um, black coffee, double shot of espresso to go please!” 

You nodded and turned to start making it, but Alisha was already there, giving her her famous go-talk-to-him-or-I’ll-kill-you look. So, taking a deep breath, you whirled back around to face him and said, “In a hurry?” 

“It’s no rush! I’m just pretty late to work, my alarm didn’t go off,” Sam smiled and shifted anxiously on his feet, you could tell he didn’t like not being on time. 

You didn’t know what it was, but you suddenly felt pretty bold. So, with nobody in the store but Sam and Alisha to judge you, you leaned over the counter and said, “Come here, your ties pretty crooked!” with a small laugh. 

“Oh, thanks!” He turned slightly pink before taking a step closer so you could reach him. The tie was smooth in your hands as you looped your fingers around it, going over and under until it was tied nicely. 

“Couldn’t have tied it better myself,” Sam gave you a small smirk before running his hands through his hair, “How’s my hair looking?” 

You felt yourself starting to laugh, and you couldn’t repress the giggle that came out as you responded, “Pretty wild,” 

“Can you fix that too?” He grinned, taking one more step closer so there were only inches separating the two of you. 

You reached up and ran your fingers through the hair you’d been admiring for months, shuffling it back and forth into it’s usual neat arrangement. After about a minute of you fixing and re-fixing his locks you finally took a step back and huffed, “Alright, looking good!” 

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get whatever he was about to say out, Alisha bounded over- his piping hot coffee in her hand, “Here you are, that would be 3.67, please!” 

“Of course, here,” He reached into his wallet and handed you a five, before turning to you and grinning, “Thanks for the help, I owe you one!” 

You just smiled in return and went to give him his change, but when you looked up the bell had already jingled and he was gone. 

 “Looks like he doesn’t want his 2.33 back!” You said, turning to Alisha, who had her hand to her mouth in disbelief at how flirty the two of you had been. 

“Oh my GOD, (Y/N)! He’s so into you!” She squealed and did a twirl around the edge of the counter, to which you only rolled your eyes and blushed. 

You weren’t going to get your hopes up, he probably had a girlfriend. But that was before you went to put the 5$ in the register and saw what he’d written on the back: 

Call me sometime! We could get coffee together, no just kidding, we could get something else though! 978-345-7789 - Sam Winchester 

You dropped the bill and watched it float to the ground as you stood there in disbelief, “ALISHA, OMG LOOK!”

“What?” She propped herself up from the other side of the counter and peered over the edge, her eyes landing on the five you’d dropped. 

When she saw the note he’d written on the back in bold, black sharpie, her face lit up, “(Y/N) OH MY GOD! You have to call! You have to call!” 

[fanficintraining]

Justice in debts, part I

Word count: 7k+ overall (Woops!)

Part I: 1,8K

Warnings: nothing bad, really. Language, tiny amount of angst, fluff if you squint your eyes, sadness, insecurity (Reader)

Pairing: CasxFemaleReader; Sam and Dean/ Reader friendship

Summary: It’s just another regular day at Readers job when she gets caught in the middle of the hunt that the brothers are working. Sam and Dean along with Castiel underrated monsters they were hunting and things start to go sideways for them. Reader, who hates changing anything in her life, hardly finds comfort in new surroundings. As time passes by, she gets used to it though, and can’t imagine another way of life. And for a good, unspoken reason everybody knows about by the time she fully realizes it.

Requests:

Can you please write something short where reader is placed in hunter’s life against her will? Maybe she does something awesome and boys eventually want her as sidekick hunter? Pairing is whatever to me, but it would be nice to include some cute romantic Castiel- reader with Cass supressing his emotions. Also, I think Cass giving in to his vessels lusts and needs is hot! Maybe some chatty bonding scenes with Dean or Sam! Thank you! xx

~~

Since you writing XY/Castiel anyway could you please do insecure main character and complicated angst with death invovled?

~~

Well anon and anon I’ll try do it to the best of my abilities. Since I got few similar requests I’ll make it over 1k. Probably 5k words give or take, so everybody’s satisfied and happy. I’ll see how it goes along the way.

Ps: even before I read about Castiel giving in to his carnality, I knew I want to write it in, cause it’s not completely out of character and it’s less obvious than Dean having sex. Again. Oh, and I have no idea if you, second anon, meant death or Death so I’ll improvise!

One more thing: some scenes will be sad and angsty. I was deep down in the dumps lately and I’ve been writing on my “better” days but still, you get the vibe.

I’ll make it 5-6 part.

***

Your first instinct, of course, was to hide. But where the hell do you hide when your one availible way of escape is out? The only door currently in your reach-  blocked. You could swear you left it wide open. Not to mention this door has no lock and yet, somehow it is slammed tight. One thought was bouncing up and down in your head as you hopped under the counter: Why the hell weird shit has to go down on MY shift, god damn it!

This thought however, was quickly gone.

Since a grown man was thrown at the wall opposite to you next to your hiding place, your brain decided to go blank. You felt sudden rush of energy going through you, which obviously was your body reacting to stress. You probably read about it somewhere. Fight or run for your life moment, or something. Shivers running down your spine and muscles tightening in a single spazm- really uncomfortable feeling you hoped never to experience again after you finally got out of school.

You dared to look to your right where the man landed. He  was trying to get up from the floor, slowly rising himself up with a grimace of pain showing up on his face. You noticed a pink patch of skin on his chin. It already started to show some swelling. He had a split lip and when he finally stood up, grunting, he was limping. He barely shot a glance towards you. Going straight back into the fight that was going on in the middle of a hotel restaurant, he kicked a chair leg your way, not looking at you again. You heard a loud thump and a shriek followed, and then you heard low, gravely voice shouting

“Sammy, blade! Get the blade, NOW!”

You looked down at the chair leg and reached for it but you were cut off when something hit the counter cracking it in half at the impact, sending rain of glass and plastic all over your head. You gasped and fell flat on your face, the hit on the counter so strong it knocked air out of your lungs. Someone scratched over the remains of the counter, probably trying to stand up, but failed to do so. There was a short, metalic cling and a slow, heavy sound of something sliding down. You started crawling in the direction of it in hopes of finding something to defend yourself with. Just in case.

The view in front of your eyes was unpleasant.

Most of furniture flipped upside down or in pieces. Blood here and there, shattered glass on the floor. Bullet holes in the walls. Bodies laying around, customers, coworkers, and these… Things.

And right next to you, man lying on his back, trying to hold on to one of the tables, heaving like he just crossed a finish line of a marathon run. His right hand blindly searched for something in urgent, hectic moves. You recognized this man. Hard to forget a guy appearing out of nowhere in mere split seconds right in front of your very eyes. His face was covered with blood slowly dripping from his most likely broken nose. Huge cut on his forehead looked equally bad. When his eyes didn’t roll back into his skull in confusion, they were fixed on something in front of him. It was hard for you to see what it was because of all the dust in the air and flickering lights, but as it was getting closer, the guy’s moves got more lost and panicky.

Your heart almost flat out stopped upon hearing high pitched screeching directly above your head. You jumped for the closest object you considered useful when the light uncoverd it for you by sending bright shining reflection to your eyes. You grabbed it with your hand and went back ready to defend yourself, when you understood that this monstrosity was charging right at the man, not you. It was an impulse you could not control. You threw yourself in front of the man and you could swear you saw his eyes glow bright blue light, but you couldn’t be sure, because suddenly you felt sharp pain and everything went dark for you. Last thing you registered before passing out was this sound, like a kite fluttering in the wind.

***

You go back to consciousness with a whopping headache, and from the moment you can feel something again, first thing that hits hard apart from your bursting head is nausea, weir knot unwinding in your stomach. Almost immediately you break out in a cold sweat and try to hold yourself back from vomiting. You can hear two sets of footsteps approaching, and a heavy breathing right next to you

“Cas, you alright?” asked the same voice who so kindly offered you a chair leg as means of defence before “Yes, Dean. I am, as you say… Peachy” answered a deep, hoarse voice, with a slight note of mockery in it. It was followed by short silence "What the hell happened up there?” asked the chair man “I was fighting 5 of them, Dean. Don’t blame me for something I had close to no control over” the second man answered with clear reproach in his voice “Who is this?” asked a third voice “and what is THAT?”

“It is a human being” he answered shortly “Female, to be precise. I do not know her name. But we will know soon, as she is awake”

Your body flinched involuntarily before you could even try to stop it. There was a tense silence between three men when you reluctantly opened your eyes. Man closest to you was the unlucky one who hit your counter. Oddly enough, there was nothing left from injuries visible what you assumed was moments ago. Only staines of blood on his clothes proved the existance of wounds he received before. You blinked a few times to make sure it’s not your eyes cheating you because of shock, but nothing changed. The other two men were standing next to each other. Both tall, dirty, a little bloody and totally ragged. You sat up but didn’t say a word. Taller guy looked at you with a shadow of sympathy behind his eyes. The other one, covered in mud and blood from shoulders to boots, scanned you top to bottom. His gaze distrustful and tense, same as his whole body language.

“Who are you?” he asked “Dean, give her a break” said the tall one “sorry for him, he’s a little off now because the job was a fail” chair guy scoffed, shook his head and started walking impatiently around “Hi” tall one got closer to you “My name is Sam. This hot headed jerk is my brother, Dean”

“Bitch” he mumbled under his breath in response “Shut up, Dean” he cut his brother out with a little smirk shadowing his lips “And what’s your name?”

You looked over at every one of them, trying to figure out what’s happening, but after that you took a deep breath and responded

"My name is Y/N” your voice was weirdly steady and calm, although your mouth was dry as Sahara desert itself -

“Good, great. Okay, Y/N. Do you know what happened?”

You shook your head and stretched your hands open when you realized you still keep this cold, shiny spike squeezed in your bloody hand.

***

You could hear light footsteps coming from the corridor so you ditched reading for a moment to listen. The footsteps stopped behind your door. You whispered come in and faced the door only to be greeted by fluttering sound of Castiel appearing in the room. It’s been over three months since your workplace incident.

Although you still had a hard time adjusting to your newly acqired knowledge, your learning process started the hard way, so there was that safety bubble of yours gone forever. Just like that, monsters were real. You tried to deal with it like any other person who didn’t escape right away would do. You dived into it head to heel, and also started drinking a lot more.

The brothers, even Dean who was really pesimistic about it at first- insisted you can’t go back just yet. You didn’t understand why. In the line of ‘work’ they all shared, from your point of view you were useless at best. Yeah, of course. Reading books was one thing. But out there? In the heat of the moment? Not that you were even half fast or strong as them. God, you don’t even remember when was the last time you had to run back home.

If that was animal kingdom, you’d be a really mocked and unpopular snail. Not fast, not strong, tiniest amount of movement coordination. Not to mention guns. Big no no. Still couldn’t convince yourself to try it again after first time. It did break first ice with Dean, though. You made him chuckle and he treated you better since then. Other than that you were a decent cook and you were okay with patching them up after intense hunt. If Cas wasn’t around, that is. But let’s be honest, he wasn’t visiting often so you were occupied most of your time.

“Hello, Y/N.”

“Hi, Castiel”  you were in a bad mood. Galloping insomnia and digging through so many books made you cranky; Cas squinted his eyes and tilted his head.

“Am I interrupting you? I see you are alone, but if my companionship is unwelcome, I will be gone, and back in a better time” he said

“It’s okay, just tell me what you want” you looked at his face “I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all. Whatever. I’ll do what needs to be done” you shrugged carelessly and your eyes went back down to books you were reading. Cas stood still and silent “I ain’t got all day so spill it.”

“Is it because of the events in your restaurant? The day you were brought here?”

“What? Fucked up sleeping schedule?”

“Yes. Amongst many others.”

"What do you think, huh? Spoiler: it’s not my hobby. Although I’ll consider writing it down in my resume” you said half jokingly; he gave you his distinctive, long intense look before answering

“I did not come here for your help, Y/N.”

“So why did you come here then?” you frowned “you barely come, at least in the last three months. Since I’m here. Not so hard to connect the dots here”

He was silent again so you raised your head to see if he’s even still here and you jumped a little, because suddenly he’s inches away from you and he offers his hand to help you stand up. You grunt but accept his help. You can see his jaw clenching as he looks at your confused face.

"Hey, I’m sorry if I’m being bitchy today but…” and that’s all you were able to say before he put his palm on your face and when he barely even touched your skin, the world turned black for you.

~~

That’s it for today folks! That was part I!

Let me know what you think!

[awed-frog]

The Raid/One More Time, With Feeling

So, it’s official: Supernatural continues to be outstanding. I liked this episode a lot, and I like how they keep doing this - acknowledging there is a past in this show while developing new storylines and confirming stuff we’ve been saying for years. Because subtext - turns out it matters. Who knew.

Since I haven’t seen a lot of people talk about this, first things first: the BMoL’s (and Mary’s, and Sam’s) plan to eradicate and destroy all monsters - jolly good, but what does it mean for Cas? For Crowley? For Garth? Apparently they’re not working on a nuclear explosion spell or anything, and instead they’re going after specific groups of monsters one by one. And the thing is, they’ve got no reason to stop and ascertain who are the good guys and who are the bad guys, right? If they find Garth, Garth is dead.

(Is Sam okay with this? Mr Head Choice?)

And what about demons? I doubt you can kill every demon in existence, so the solution, surely, is shutting the Gates of Hell? And we know how Crowley feels about that, at least. As for the angels, again - seems unpractical and unfeasible to eliminate them, not to mention the cosmic consequences there would likely be if it could be done, so, again, is the idea to confine them all in Heaven? Mh.

As for the rest of it, here we go. 

Family Matters

Jesus Christ, what a mess. I know we talk a lot about how these characters have evolved so much they are almost verbatim the opposite of who they were twelve years ago (and how this was done so skillfully we barely even noticed), but with Mary back in the equation, you really see it. The alliances have now shifted. Where once we had John (emotional and barely hanging on and yet terrifyingly in control) clashing with his younger son who wanted a way out and a better life, and Dean was in the middle, trying to keep both of them happy, now we’ve got Mary pursuing a colder, more rational obsession, Dean who’s so done with all of it, and Sam acting as a mediator. Uh.

Now, it’s true we don’t know exactly what happened when Sam and Dean were teens (#season12wishlist). It’s likely Dean took John’s side out of some demented desire to be recognized and loved, and also so that Sam wouldn’t get hurt, but he believed enough in hunting that his brother getting out - that was a major falling out between them. 

But, well - the situation is hardly the same now. Sam isn't a brainwashed, terrified teenager. He's an adult, and, okay, there are rational reasons for the choices he's making. At the same time, though, what’s going on is too close to whatever madness went down in their childhood for me to look with any sympathy upon any of it. Because at this point, Mary honestly scares me, and so does Sam. Him huddling with Mick at the end, saying those things about Dean - that was legit creepy, and more on this later.  

Dean 2.0

Just as an aside, I was very happy to see Mr Ketch doubling back to seduce Dean, because I’ve been saying this would happen for weeks and weeks. And if you write it down, just like that, what went down between them sounds very ambiguous: Ketch showed up with a bottle of scotch, they had a drink together, and then went to a hotel - a fancy place with a pool and a spa. 

The whole thing was coded like a courtship, because that’s exactly what it was (to the point they had to establish Ketch’s sexuality as a preventive #no homo); what made it uncomfortable is the fact Ketch didn’t really want to be there, and Dean - again, the woman in this scenario, as he so often is - was not the right fit for him. 

Because, well, the show’s been playing with this for a while now - the superficial similarities between Ketch and Dean, and how they sort of begrudgingly like each other; we’ve seen Dean drooling over Ketch’s motorbike, and I’m sure that’s not the only thing about Ketch he finds attractive - when he opens the door to find the man grinning at him, Dean does what he usually does when he’s flustered: he gets stupid (“How’d you find us?”). So this was incredibly well done: we got someone who, on paper, is the perfect match for Dean, just like that siren promised to be; but the problem is, of course, Dean’s heart - not only that it’s taken, but that Dean is not who everyone assumes he is. People have been telling him he’s a killer for years and years, and this season has brought that up in sharp relief, again -

- but for Dean himself, killing things, like drinking, is more of a coping mechanism than something he actively enjoys (and we know neither is good for him: look at how the bottles are framed, right underneath the blade of a huge-ass sword). He might have been more into it when he was a kid - before he went to Hell, before it all got complicated - but now? Now it’s just a job, and it certainly doesn’t give him any joy to torture young vampires. In fact, he finds it positively disturbing.

(I know we were all thinking of Benny at some point during this episode, by the way, and my guess is, so was Dean.)

The new thing about Dean, though, is that he uses his words and indoor voice even when he’s not dying on the floor of some dirty warehouse. In this episode alone, he made his feelings clear a record number of times, both with Mary and with other people. As he told his mother, he’s an adult now. The need to put on a performance for others is fading, and Dean is - finally - accepting that he’s allowed to have and express feelings about what happens around him. And that’s a momentous step forward for him. We’ve now seen him not only defend a monster in front of a hunter, but also talk about his childhood in a clean, unfiltered way, without the usual ‘it was the best of times’ bullshit he recites for other people, or the automatic ‘I walked it off’ reaction he displays at other times; and we’ve seen him acknowledge that he doesn’t have control over what his family members do or think - which is scary, especially for Dean, but also liberating: accepting this means understanding you don’t have to carry other people’s responsibilities either.

(Additionally, the fun thing about all this is that now we know Ketch used to date Toni, his mirror has shifted, and, to me, there’s now yet another element highlighting a kinship between Ketch and Sam, not Dean.)

The British Men of Letters

I had a feeling things would be framed this way, so I’m not disappointed, exactly, but it’s still annoying - this continual understanding of science and scientists as people who don’t know how the real world works, and are completely useless in real life situations. 

The BMoL’s HQ was clearly meant to contrast with the Bunker - science vs magic, future vs past, an efficient, diverse team of coworkers vs two brothers who’d die for each other (and have) - and, look - it worked. It’s not that it didn’t work. It’s just - in real life, you need these things, and they’re generally the best option. Sure, mistakes can be made, and someone who’s good in a lab isn’t necessarily good at everything else in life as well, but this idea we’d be better off living miles from each other and providing for ourselves and dishing out our own justice is incredibly American, and, from my perspective, absolutely untenable. 

(It’s also an illusion, both in real life and on Supernatural because, current events aside, governments, the rule of law and all those other things - they actually do work, even in the US.)

The main problem I see with the BMoL is that it seems to be made up of people who don’t like, understand, or respect each other. Mitch clearly disagrees both with his orders and with his subordinates, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Ketch was incredibly rude and dismissive with not only with the scientists (apparently his underlying misogyny gets deactivated only by women who can shoot and haven’t slept with him) but also with Mitch himself. The hired guns outside probably have no idea what even happens inside the compound. And so on, and so forth. No, if there’s one thing this organization is highlighting, is how stupid and dangerous it is to work together while not trusting each other, or while keeping secrets from each other, which makes the ending of this episode even more troubling.

That said, the way they approach things and the distinction they make between criminals and terrorists is downright scary, and the fact Sam ends up agreeing with them really shows volumes about his character development over the years. See, criminals are people. They chose to commit crimes, sure, but their reasons are rarely evil; also, they can be reformed. That’s what a good prison system is supposed to be about. But terrorists, in the current understanding of the word - that’s different. Terrorists are no longer humans beings - apparently, they lose their human rights, can be held without trial, executed with a jury order. Terrorists are out to destroy everything we care about, and as such, there is no grey line there: they must all be stomped out (hence the famous “We do not negotiate with terrorists” thing, and everything else). So that’s quite a definitive thing to say, and perhaps it should surprise us that Sam, the ‘our birth doesn’t determine our destiny’ kid, the one who had all those fights with Dean and John about the core nature of hunting, should support this world view. 

Or perhaps not. Sam has changed, after all.

(Also, being called a ‘top shelf’ anything after all those years of penance and guilt and self-hatred - yeah. That’s bound to speed things along.)

So maybe when Dean told Sam to pick a side, he should have been a bit more specific.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe

As a last point, speaking of sides I continue to be on Dean’s in all this. I know some people will roll their eyes at him saying How about for once, you just try to be a mom? but I don’t feel like rolling my eyes at all. Dean doesn’t want someone to pick him up for baseball practice and bake him pies; that’s not what he meant. What he does want is some kind of recognition that they are, in fact, family. That Mary gives a damn about either of them.

(This, after all, is what’s given Mary an in in the first place: as Sam says, “She’s Mom”. The fact she is their mother is why she got access to them and the BMoL, why she was brought back, why she’s wormed her way back in after almost killing Cas - and also Sam and Dean themselves. If that had been any other hunter, it’s likely Dean would have killed him just out of anger and spite, so it’s a bit convenient for her to pick and mix when she wants to be their mom and when she doesn’t.

Also, let’s stop and think for a moment - what is it that Ketch was saying again Who’s a good fit for the BMoL? People like him. Psychopaths who don’t see shades of grey and actively enjoy killing things. Ketch assumes Dean is like that, but we know, and Dean knows, that he’s not. 

Guess who might very well be, though.

(Hint: not this guy. Or, well: not only this guy.)

I mean, have you noticed how Mary - and Sam - relished the prospect of Pierce getting tortured to death? And how uncomfortable Dean was with that idea?)

No, Mary’s been incredibly distant since she’s been back, and, as it now turns out, her only problem is with them. She’s okay working with other hunters, she’s a perfectly functioning member of the BMoL, she’s got no issue with mobile phones and HBO and whatever - the problem is them. And that hurts, and I understand that it does. A mother is someone who should love her kids no matter what, and I think this is what Dean is saying here: that Mary apparently never stopped for a second to think what they may need from her - she just decided what she needed and went with it. She doesn’t care whether her sons like hunting or not. She doesn’t care if Dean has a complicated relationship with monsters, if he’s in love with Cas, if he doesn’t particularly want Crowley hurt. She’s never stopped and asked what they think about things, what’s going on in their lives. She just - went ahead and did her own thing, and that’s it.

And don’t get me wrong - I like how they’re doing this, because it makes the character interesting and subverts traditional ideas of motherhood and whatever, but if we’re talking character POV, I’m still on Dean’s side. Considering how broken they both are, how unusual their upbringing was, how badly they manage to truly interact with people as a result of all that, Sam and Dean have really done their best here. And Mary - I think Mary hasn’t. It’s not even a question of being a mom - it’s about being a normal human being instead of a weirdly obsessed soldier type. So as I said, Dean forgiving her at the end - that was a huge step for him, and I’m glad he went there, but there’s still a difference between not knowing how to talk to your adult sons you’ve never seen before and deliberately lying to them and putting them and their friends in danger in name of some quest which may very well be a pipe dream, or even make things worse. And, Jesus - consciously or not, it’s a fact that Mary approaches this relationship with Sam and Dean as she would a hunt. Look at how she (correctly) identified Sam as ‘weakest’ link (the one more likely to talk to her, that is; to be willing to work it out), how she lured him to the BMoL’s HQ under false pretenses (there was nothing urgent about it - Sam only came there because he assumed she was in trouble).

In fact, the more we learn about Mary, the more it looks like she and John were a better match than anybody had imagined, which, considering all that happened while Sam and Dean were growing up, is truly heartbreaking.

And even more than that: in a way, this whole thing about Mary being unconditionally on the BMoL’s side and Sam being sucked in because of his good nature and his desire to do good is very reminiscent of that whole mess with Ruby. Dean, like the last time, is following his own heart on the matter. Now the question is, will Sam be right this time? Or will it all blow up in his face, again?

Well. It will blow up in someone’s face for sure. This is Supernatural, after all.