#sam and cas on the other hand? it would be like looking into the sun... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

natti-ice · 6 months

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Dream Invader- Castiel.

Pairing: Castiel x fem!reader

Summary: Castiel takes a trip into Y/N’s dream and finds some interesting information

Warnings: written in third person (she/her pronouns) (1.6k words)

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

The Impala drove down a dark road, no other cars for miles. They had just got a case two states over. They had just finished a hunt so they didn't have any time to rest. Dean is in the driver's seat, Sam in the passenger, Y/N in the back passed out. She wasn't new to the game, but it always wore her out like a newbie.

Dean went through all the channels on the radio, either they were static or they were playing some new top 40 song. He wasn't a fan of this new generation's music. He was getting annoyed, he settled on silence.

"All this new technology and they can't get better signal out here" Dean grumbled, mostly to himself.

"People don't listen to the radio anymore, Dean" Sam mumbled, fighting his sleep. He was exhausted, he got four hours of sleep in the past two days. He was always on edge, afraid something would happen when he slept.

"Shh, Y/N's sleeping"

"Must be nice" Dean said looking up at the rearview mirror. "Jesus!" He said startled.

Sam jumped, the tired leaving his body. His hand immediately reaching for his handgun, snapping his back to look in the back seat.

"Cas, you have to stop popping up out of nowhere" Dean sighed

"Sorry, I figured this was better than showing up in the middle of the road."

"I wanted to come with you guys on this hunt, I had nothing better to do" Castiel explained.

"Why didn't you just call?" Sam asked

"I uh- I lost my cellphone" He replied, he had no idea where it was. Probably some country in Europe, he's been to too many places this week.

"Whatever just give us a warning next time" Dean said

The four of them drove in silence for another thirty minutes. Y/N is still sound asleep. As much as Dean loved to drive, looking at a bunch of nothing is boring. He was trying to think of a game to keep him occupied, maybe like 'count how many trees you see' he probably couldn't count that high.

Checking the mirror once more, he saw a faint smile on Y/N's sleeping face. She was always a peaceful sleeper, he wondered how after all the things they had seen. How could anyone sleep after that? He was happy she could sleep, he never wanted her to know the feeling of running off adrenaline and bad coffee.

He got an idea, not his best work but he had to deal with what he had.

"Hey Cas" The angel looked up, he didn't know road trips were this boring.

"Yeah?" He answered

"Why don't you hop into Y/N's dream, see why she's got that smile on her face"

"Dean-" Sam started

"C'mon it's harmless Sammy. Just a little bit of fun" Dean said before his brother could tell him how that it was an invasion of privacy blah blah.

"I don't think that's a good Idea, Dean" Castiel didn't understand how this would be "fun" But he knew humans found entertainment in weird ways.

"Don't be a buzzkill. Just use your little angel powers and see what she's doing."

"She's probably running through a field of flowers or something"

"Fine. I'll do it, but don't ask me to do anything weird for at least a week"

"Deal, now go" Dean said, he could feel his brother's disappointed glare as Cass disappeared.

"What?" he asked

"Boundaries Dean, boundaries." Sam sighed

"Oh please it's not like Cas doesn't show up in our dreams three times a week"

Silence.

"No, he doesn't" Sam said confused

"Whatever, you know what I mean" Dean nervously squeezed the steering wheel. Oh god, do I dream about Cas? he thought.

"Right.." Sam replied giving Dean a skeptical look

Castiel landed on some unstable surface. Looking down at his feet, his black shoes were sinking in sand with every step. He looked around at his surrounding, he was on a beach. The sun was starting to set, the sound of waves crashing filled the air. It was so picturesque.

He could hear faint music coming from his right. Off into the distance, he could see two people standing. He figured it was Y/N, but he didn't know who the other person was. He walks closer to the pair, he noticed small candles lit around the two.

They were swaying to the tune playing from the small radio on the ground. It was one of those old love songs. It seemed whoever she was with, they were romantically involved. When he got about 6 feet away from them, he could see who the mystery person was.

It was him.

Well, his vessel.

They seemed so happy, in love with the moment. Y/N had her arms wrapped around his torso resting her head on his chest. While dream Castiel's hands were on her waist. He didn't know she felt that way about him, maybe it was just the dream.

He watched them for what felt like forever, as he took in the sight. He had a strong love for Y/N, he had trouble figuring out what kind of love. She was one of the most beautiful humans he'd ever met. She's smart, funny, caring, in his eyes she was perfect.

Though, he wasn't sure how relationships between humans and angels would be seen by the man upstairs. Honestly, he didn't care.

He guessed he had been standing there so long Y/N felt his presence. She looked over and saw him. "Castiel?" her eyes went wide.

He freaked out and didn't know what to say, he vanished out of the dream landing back in the Impala.

Shortly after, Y/N woke up from her sleep. She looked over and saw Castiel. Her hope of that meeting being a part of her dream went out the window. He saw what she was doing. She prayed to anyone who was listening that he didn't think anything of it.

"Morning sunshine" Dean said when he saw she was awake.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked, he could see she was disheveled.

"Fine" She replied, trying to keep it together

"Did you see anything in there, Cas?"

"Nope. Just like you said, fields." He came up with the lie on the spot, he didn't want to embarrass Y/N anymore.

"That's boring-"

"Hang on, you told him to go into my dream?" Annoyance in her voice

"It was just for fun Y/N, plus like he said, he didn't see anything" He said in defense.

"You son of a bitch" she said flicking his ear

"Ough!"

The rest of the drive was mainly silent. Y/N didn't talk to Dean much and didn't say a word to Castiel. She was so embarrassed, out of all the dreams he could've walked in on it was that one.

It had been reoccurring for months, she and Cass on a beach in each other's arms. Not one problem in the world, it was just them. Her crush grew stronger as the dream progressed. She had done so well hiding her feelings for the angel. Now all of that is gone because Dean is nosy.

They finally made it to their next case, pulling up to a motel parking lot. Sam and Dean went inside the office to get a room, leaving Cass and Y/N alone.

They stood outside the car waiting for them to get back. Needless to say, it was pretty damn awkward. The silence was killing Y/N, she spoke up.

"Thank you" she said

"What?" Castiel was confused

"Thanks for not telling them what you saw." she kept her head down

"Oh, you're welcome... I didn't think it was my place to tell them about your dream."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to invade your privacy" he felt so bad about this.

"It's alright. At least now you know." she sighed

"Know what?"

"You're gonna make me say it?" she looked up at him. He looked very confused

"That I like you, Castiel."

"Oh," he swallowed "I didn't want to assume anything, I had no idea about this"

"No one knew, I didn't want it getting in the way of the job. Plus I know there's no chance you feel the same way-"

"You're wrong" he cut her off

"Huh?"

"About how I feel, I do feel the same. I guess I've been keeping a secret too." He looked deep into her eyes to make sure she knew he was telling the truth. " There hasn't been a day that's gone by where I haven't thought about you, how kind and sweet you are. Not to mention how stunning you are."

Y/N thought she was still dreaming. She couldn't believe what he was saying, her heart started to race. She couldn't find any words, so she used her actions.

Her eyes flickered down to his lips back to his eyes, leaning in slow in case he wanted to back out. He matched her actions, leaning in connecting their lips. She runs her hand through his hair deepening the kiss.

"What the hell did we miss?" Dean's voice pulled them out of their daze, pulling apart from each other.

"Hey guys" she nervously smiled

"Hey" Dean mocked "Should we get you two lovebirds your own room?" he laughed

"Leave them alone" Sam said "c'mon rooms this way" he led the group towards the motel room

Dean walked in between Castiel and Y/N one arm on each of them pulling them in for an awkward hug.

"Isn't this great, my two best pals together. I can hear the wedding bells already!"

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#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #castiel supernatural #castiel fluff #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff

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hells-plaid-angel · 8 months

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Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

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river13245 · 9 months

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We are here for you

Navigation / SPN Masterlist

Dean x Reader x Castiel

The sun was starting to set, it was at the perfect height to be directly into your eyes as you drove. You were reaching to pull the sun visor down so it would block at least some of the glare as your phone began to ring.

There were only a select few people who called you. Other people texted because they know you don't like talking on the phone unless it was an emergency. So once the visor was down you picked up your phone to see it was Castiel.

When you answer you put it on speaker and place your phone on your lap as you continued to drive. "Hey angel" the nickname you had for him rolled off your tongue easily and you knew that there would be a soft smile on his face. "hi y/n"

He wasn't one for nicknames really and that was okay. However that wasn't the thing that had you nervous is was the fact that after he had spoke your name a sigh escaped him. "Castiel what's wrong?" he never called you if there was something wrong. He would just appear so the fact that he hasn't yet really has you worried.

"its Dean" his words were forced out as if he was becoming frustrated with something. You knew that Dean wasn't doing to well with the passing of his mom, and the whole Jack situation.

That's actually why you were out running around trying to find any way to get his mom back but also to find any trace of Jack. There hadn't been and you knew they were not going to be happy with how there was no progress being made. "What's going on with him. Is he okay?"

Rustling was heard and a incoherent grumble was heard before you heard Cas telling someone to stay out the fridge. A few moments later Cas spoke into the phone again. "I cant help him this time. He needs you, we need you to come back to the bunker. He's drunk and no one can get him to calm down"

As you rest your head against the seat you sigh. You weren't angry or anything you just had to figure out how you would approach Dean to get him to calm down. "alright ill be there as soon as I can. I love you"

Before he hung up a soft "we love you too" was heard before the beeping sound. Tossing your phone to the passenger seat you pressed on the gas. You were known for always being a safe driver usually but on cases and when people needed you, all caution was thrown to the wind.

When you pull up the bunker you park beside baby and walk inside. The sight inside breaks your heart, Dean is standing with what looks like to be his fourth beer in his hand as he argues with Sam and Cas both. Cas is trying to be gentle with him but you can tell they had just got done arguing because of the tension through the room.

Sam is the first to notice you and he gives you a look that's like "save me". You point to tell him that its okay to leave and so he does but not before kissing the top of your head in a friendly way.

Now it leaves the three of you in the room. You walk up beside Castiel and look at Dean. "Dean can you please put the bottle down?" your voice was soft not wanting to come off as demanding or anything to tip him off but you should have known that wasn't going to work. Instead he lashes out. "of course you come as backup. I'm fine its my fourth beer I don't need you here. Neither does Cas"

The words he spoke were intended to hurt you and it works. He doesn't usually say hurtful things like that towards you its usually your own insecurities and other people that do. But you choose to not feel it at the moment instead you look at him and tell Cas that he can leave. He places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it letting you know that whatever Dean says isn't true before leaving.

Dean is taking another drink of his beer and you take it from his hands and toss it in the trash. This earns a incoherent mumble of words and you just shake your head. "come on dean you stink of sweat, dirt and alcohol. Lets get you cleaned up we could both use a shower"

As you spoke you were running your hand up and down his arm gently and it seemed to calm him down as he leaned into you. "never seemed to bother you before" This earns him a light slap on his arm as you begin to walk the both of you to the shower.

Closing the door you see him taking off his clothes and then you go over and start the water making sure its a nice temperature for you both. Then you take off your clothes and hold his hands as you walk under the water.

Making sure that he was the one under the water first you run your hands through his hair and then hold his face in your hands. "Dean Love." He looks down at you but doesn't respond "Me and Castiel love you. and so does your brother. Hell there are a lot of people who love you. You aren't alone in this. I promise"

He pulls you into a kiss and its sloppy but you both keep it short because tonight is not the night. "alright now clean yourself up. Ill wash your hair"

When you grab the shampoo he begins to wash off his body. You watch as the dirt washes off him and goes down the drain and then you begin to wash his hair. This results to him resting his head against your chest. Its the reason you choose to wash his hair at times like this.

Your hands run through his hair and scratch gently at his scalp. The whole time you do this he is resting against you. Only pulling away to rinse his hair out and then you do your own routine before the both of you get out and into your pajamas.

Dean had only put on a pair of sweatpants while you put on sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that was Castiel's. Dean was the first in bed and you got in beside him. When you both get comfortable you grab the remote and turn on scooby doo. This causes Dean to laugh a bit and he watches it.

You knew that Dean would be apologizing tomorrow for how he acted because its something he has been working on is apologizing for when he says or does things that are hurtful to people he loves. So tonight you push it to the side.

Hours later Castiel comes back to the bunker and sees the both of you asleep. He had been out looking for anything that would help us all so it was nice to see the two people he loves most asleep without any worries.

He walks over to the bed and covers the both of you up and kisses you and deans forehead. When he does this he uses some of his power to enter your dreams so he could make sure they were good ones before he walks off after saying "I love you both"

#polyamory #dean winchester x male reader #dean winchester x reader #castiel x male reader #castiel x reader #castiel x dean #dean x castiel #dean x castiel x reader #new blog #supernatural #angst #fluff #river13245 #sam winchester

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wormstacheangel · 6 months

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Dean and Cas in Motel6

The sun was shining through the motel window. Its glowing rays danced across Dean’s freckled back. A sight he never thought he would be privileged enough to see.

Dean asleep—drooling on the pillow even—naked and tangled up in motel sheets. Which was not the new part. No. The new and most amazing sight was that Cas was laying almost the same way. Except for the drooling since he did not sleep. And in this moment he thanked his lucky stars he didn’t.

He couldn’t imagine missing even a second of Dean’s peaceful breathing.

Oh, but he wanted to touch. His hands kept reaching over wanting to rake his fingers in soft brown hair or glide his hand down soft warm skin. His body ached to just be close to his best friend but he was still so hesitant. Dropping his hand between them but continued admiring the most beautiful man.

His lover.

Cas almost chuckled but didn’t want to shake the bed. Dean would have cringed at that.

But wasn’t that true now? After this night, shouldn’t Cas be able to call Dean his?

“Stay.” Dean had begged last night.

Cas remembered every detail, from the way Dean’s hands gripped to the way Dean panted his name. Even calling him Castiel once at some point. But he especially remembered Dean’s words.

“Fuck. I love you so much. Stay. Stay. Stay.”

Since being reunited they haven’t talked about his dying words or “The truth” as Sam likes to put it. Cas was brought back to resume business as usual. Except no Chuck and Jack was now the all-knowing. Which meant Cas was gone all the time with his son.

He has not had a second of alone time with Dean, but he got a phone call last night. It wasn't a drunk call that made him drop everything and leave heaven behind. No, this was Dean's prayer.

“Come get me.”

It was all a strange whirlwind after that.

He arrived at a motel, knocking once before being pulled in. He remembers the hesitant touching but the kissing was desperate for them both. Closing the gap between them so easily before falling into bed.

And now it’s the morning and here they both are.

He worried what Dean would say when he awoke. If this was all one big mistake. He wanted to prepare his heart for another goodbye and, even if this is all he gets, this wonderful night with Dean, then he will cherish it forever.

He will pretend it never happened for Dean’s sake. For their family’s sake.

But he knew he could never forget the warmth he felt finally being with the man he loves.

Maybe he should leave before Dean wakes up. Save them both the trouble of an awkward conversation.

He carefully scooted out of bed. Sitting at the edge of it, watching his bare feet on the filthy old carpet, debating whether or not to savor one last look at Dean before he left.

“Unless you’re getting up to get me some damn breakfast,” Cas's back straightened as he heard the raspy voice. “You better get back in bed, Sweetheart."

Cas turned his head to see Dean lift up the sheets just enough to let him scoot in but not let the cold creep in. He smiled his sleepy grin and motioned with his chin to come close. Cas couldn't help but let the worries melt away as he slipped into the bed. Their bodies were close, it was almost electric as they kept an eye on each other. Looking for answers neither wanted to ask the questions too.

“Beautiful.” Cas thought at the same time as Dean said the word out loud. Only a whisper but still so confidently said.

They both smiled as the tension faded. Their hands slowly crept between them before their pinkies hooked together.

Cas looked at their hands as he confessed. “I've been wanting this with you for so long. I…I never thought it was possible.” I never want to let go.

“Sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass.” He joked but his small smile was so sincere as he continued. “I was missing you like crazy. And I was trying to be patient and let you settle in with your whole new role as God's Dad and all but,” Dean slides his hand up Cas’s arm and gently places it on his cheek. Looking into his eyes, Cas saw no sadness. “I'm tired of wasting my time not being with you. You can…you have me, Cas. Always did.”

His eyes watered but he wouldn’t dare look away from the pretty face. He took Dean's hand and placed a kiss on his palm. He made sure Dean was listening to him before he let out a heavy breath. “I love you.”

He heard Dean's heart race and his breath hitched before he relaxed. Closing the space between them with a kiss. Long, sweet, and wonderful kiss.

“After we make up for so much damn time,” Dean pulled Cas almost on top of him. “Maybe we can get that breakfast we were talking about earlier.”

“I wasn't talking about breakfast.” Cas chuckled, bending down to let his lips trace warm freckled skin. “But I do love the idea.”

“Great.” Dean pulled Cas’s face away from his throat and let their eyes lock. “You know I love you too, right?”

Cas couldn't respond but he felt like the Grinch and his grace grew two sizes that moment—though he knew it wasn’t possible, he just felt so happy. His eyes finally shed those tears he was holding in while he tucked his face into Dean’s chest. Feeling big, strong, and—best of all— gentle hands rub mindless circles into his back.

Cas knew he was important. He knew he was wanted to some degree. But finally hearing those words, from someone he truly loves, felt healing in some way. How has he lived so long without being loved?

The motel room filled with a golden light of morning sun and soft humming from the man he loves. You could see every tear in the wallpaper, mold on the ceiling, and even how the carpet had different color stains but at this moment, it was the most beautiful place in the world.

In this moment, he was truly in heaven.

#destiel #dean #castiel #fanfic #fic #wormstachewrites #they're hopeless and awkward and desperate for love #touch starved i guess #shhh i just want them to be honest and make out

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rizlowwritessortof · 2 months

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Remember Me - Part 2

Okay - should have done this on the first part, but I forgot. The time frame for this is Season 12-ish. Chuck & Amara have skipped happily off into the cosmos. Lucifer is nobody-cares-where after the battle with Amara. The sun is fixed, after which Dean IMMEDIATELY called Sam to let him know he was okay, and there was much rejoicing. Mary is still happily in heaven, and the British Men of Letters are still happily (or not) in England (except for Lady Toni Bevell, who was mysteriously torn to shreds by some creature or demon or an angry badger, don't care she just deserved to die horribly). Now, on with Part 2. 😁

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC Michaela

Word Count: 2915

Warnings: None in Part 2, eventual smut

Dividers by @talesmaniac89

It took a few moments to get Mikey calmed down and convince her to sit down beside Dean again as he turned an accusatory glare towards the angel. “You know her, Cas? Did you do this to her? To us?”

“No, of course I didn’t.”

“Then, what the hell?”

Cas glanced to Sam, then back to Dean, guilt on his face. “I did not erase your memories. But I’m afraid that I am the one who delivered her to Zachariah.”

“Like I said, Cas, what the hell?!” Dean’s voice was rising, along with his temper, and Sam spoke his name quietly.

“Dean. Let him explain.”

“I knew nothing of this, you have to believe me. I was told that she was vital to the future, that her life was in danger and she needed to be taken to safety before the beginning of the apocalypse. I was ordered to take her to a room, I was told that Zachariah would explain and keep her safe from the fallout.”

“So did we know each other, Cas?” Sam asked.

The angel glanced up at him, then looked back to the floor. “Yes. You all knew each other very well.”

Michaela was visibly shaking, and she clasped her hands together, trying to control the tremors. “What exactly does that mean?” she managed, her voice barely over a whisper.

Cas looked at her, regret in his eyes. “You and Dean – you were… in a relationship. Emotionally and… physically.”

A slightly hysterical little laugh burst its way from her mouth, and she bit down hard on her lip to stop. “We don’t even know each other. How…”

Cas spoke again. “I believe Zachariah erased your memories of each other. And replaced your memories of your real life with a false past to keep you away from Dean.”

“Who the hell is Zachariah? Why would he do something like that?” Mikey was on her feet again, fists clenched at her sides, her voice rising with each word. Dean reached for her, but she shied away and moved to stand with her back to the fireplace, barely restrained panic in her eyes.

“He is – was – an angel. Before Dean killed him.”

“Awesome, Cas, very helpful!” Dean rose to his feet and approached Mikey carefully. “Look, I know this is all…”

“Crazy? It’s crazy. I must be losing my fucking mind. I think you all need to leave. Now.”

He reached a hand towards her. “Mikey…”

She backed away another step, raising tear-filled eyes to his face. “Please. I can’t… no more. I need some time.”

Dean dropped his hand slowly and nodded. “Yeah. I get it.” He moved towards the door, waiting as Sam shepherded Cas outside, then turning to look at her one more time. “I’m sorry. You have my number, if you need anything…”

She nodded without looking at him, waiting for him to close the door behind him before she rushed to lock it, then burst into tears.

The drive back to the motel was silent, tension thick in the air. Sam glanced to the back seat at Cas, and then over at Dean, fully aware that the set of his jaw and the steely, focused stare meant an explosion was probably inevitable.

They walked into the room, and Dean headed straight for the fridge, grabbing a beer and draining half of it before dropping down onto a chair. “How could you not tell us, Cas?” His voice was quiet, but the strain of keeping his temper was evident.

“Dean, I thought – you never mentioned her again, and I thought with you trying to save Sam, the apocalypse looming – I just thought you had let her go, moved on. I had no idea Zachariah wiped her from your minds. Or that he erased her memories. I didn’t know.”

Dean finished his beer, gulping it down and tossing the bottle to the trash, the glass shattering with the impact. “I wish I could bring that son of a bitch back just so I could kill him again.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “So, Cas – can you fix this?”

Cas looked at him with sorrowful eyes. “I wish I could. What Zachariah did – he had powers far beyond mine.” He looked at Dean before speaking again. “Dean – I am sorry. If you need me again, any of you, just call. I think it may be better if I stay away for now.”

Cas disappeared, the air in the room stirring as he left, and Dean stalked back to the fridge for another beer. “Dean, you okay?” Sam asked quietly, and Dean flipped the cap from his bottle across the room.

“Yeah. I’m awesome.” He sat back down, shaking his head as he gnawed at his lip. “We just fucked up Mikey’s life for no good reason. She wasn’t in danger, she was just living her life, even if it wasn’t her real life.”

“Dean, we had no way of knowing what was going on. And who’s to say we weren’t meant to run into her, to find this all out? Maybe…”

“She was doing just fine, even if her reality did get fucked with by that feathered son of a bitch. She had no idea about any of the – shit we deal with. Now she just got hit in the face with the whole load.”

Sam sat down across from Dean and took a drink from his own beer. “I know. All we can do is try to help her through it – if she wants help.”

Dean just shook his head, staring past Sam at nothing in particular, his jaw working. “She probably never wants to see any of us again. I wouldn’t.”

“What the hell?” Dean mumbled, grabbing blindly for his phone, squinting to see the time – 3:23 a.m. “Yeah,” he answered, struggling to wake up.

“Dean? I – it’s Michaela.”

He sat up in bed, clearing his throat. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not. I mean… I just had a dream. A nightmare. I think another memory, I don’t know.” Dean could hear the tears in her voice, and he rubbed a hand over his eyes, forcing himself to focus.

“Do you want to – talk about it?”

“Can you – I’m sorry, but can you come over?”

“Yes. Yeah, of course. I’m on my way.” He turned to sit up on the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans.

Sam stirred in the other bed. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Michaela. She had a nightmare. Or a memory. I don’t know, but she’s freaked out, and she wants me to come over.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“You don’t have to.” Dean rifled through his duffle, grabbing a clean shirt and pulling it over his head.

Sam nodded. “Okay. Let me know if you need me.”

“I will.” Dean stopped as he reached the door. “I have no idea what I’m doing here, Sammy.”

Mikey sat hunched over on the sofa, her face in her hands, the memory so clear that she felt as if she were reliving it again.

“I’ll give you a whole new life, a fresh start, in a place where you’ll be far away from danger. No more hunting, or monsters. A good job, a beautiful place to live. You’ll be happy, Michaela.”

“Why? I don’t want a new life, I have a life. I’m happy now, Dean and I are happy. Let me go, let me go home.”

Zachariah’s smile faded, his tone grew curt as he continued. “That’s not going to happen. Dean has work to do, work that you will only distract him from, and we can’t allow that.”

“What work? What are you talking about?!” Fear was beginning to claw at her chest, her heart thudding almost painfully, and suddenly there were two more angels, one at each side, holding her firmly in place.

“Dean has a destiny to fulfill. It’s all right, you won’t remember him. You won’t remember any of this.”

“You can’t do this! You can’t just make me forget him! I love him! You can’t just erase that!” She was screaming at him, struggling in the angels’ grip, icy panic flooding through her as Zachariah moved towards her, a cruel gleam in his pale blue eyes.

“Oh, I can do anything I want.” He reached out to place his fingers to her forehead as she screamed and fought, and the world went bright white as a burning pain filled her head before it all faded away.

She jumped as a soft knock startled her from her thoughts, taking a deep breath as she rose and went to unlock the door. Dean stood there, concern on his face as he took in her swollen, red eyes. She stepped aside and let him in, closing the door and locking it again. “I made some coffee,” she said, and Dean nodded with a faint smile, following her to the kitchen.

Mikey reached for the cupboard door, her hands shaking so badly that Dean put a gentle hand on her arm. “Why don’t you sit, I’ll get it.” She whispered her thanks and headed for the table, then stopped and turned towards the doorway.

“Can you bring it to the living room? More comfortable in there,” she asked softly, making an attempt at a shaky smile as he agreed. She walked into the next room, settling herself into the corner of the couch, her feet tucked in beside her.

“You need sugar or – anything?” he asked as he handed her a cup, and she shook her head with a quiet ‘thanks’ as she took it, closing her eyes for a moment as she took the first sip. She looked small and pale, and Dean took a deep breath, leaving a little space between them as he sat down. “Girl after my own heart, coffee black and hot,” he commented with a smile, and she responded with another slight curve of her lips.

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Dean heard her let out a soft sigh. “A little better now?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You want to tell me about it?” The haunted look was back in her eyes as she looked at him, but she nodded. He had to lean in to hear her at first, her voice quiet and halting as she told him about her dream, and when she finished, her eyes were swimming with tears again.

She watched as Dean closed his eyes, his teeth clenched hard, his lips drawn tight with anger. “That was Zachariah, right?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Yeah. Son of a bitch has been dead for years, and I wanna hunt him down anyway.” He exhaled hard, then looked at Mikey with remorse in his eyes. “They did this because of me. I’m really sorry, Mikey.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault. They were trying to force you to do something for them, that’s not on you.” She hesitated, then asked softly, “What did they want you to do?”

Dean gnawed at his bottom lip for a second, then looked at her again. “Pretty complicated story, but – short version is they wanted me to be the human vessel for the archangel Michael and Sam to be the vessel for Lucifer. Wanted us to fight each other, to start the apocalypse. It would have wiped out half of the world and the people in it. They didn’t care. We did.” He looked down at the floor, and there was silence for a few seconds before he felt her move closer, her hand slipping between his clasped hands, taking one into her own.

“Sounds to me like you saved the world.” She leaned up to peer at him until he looked up to meet her eyes.

“All I did was show how damn stubborn I can be when somebody pushes me,” he said, a hint of a smile reappearing on his face. Mikey laughed softly, then yawned, and Dean grinned. He gave her hand a squeeze, then pulled away and grabbed the throw pillow from beside him. He handed it to her, pointing at the other end of the sofa.

“How about you get comfortable, maybe we can watch some TV? I can stay here, and if you fall asleep and start acting like you’re having another nightmare, I promise I’ll wake you up.”

She nodded, laying down and whispering her thanks as Dean pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and covered her. “I probably will fall asleep – I feel safer with you here. Thank you, Dean. I’m so tired I could probably sleep through a tornado.”

Dean settled in down by her feet, removing his boots before propping his stocking feet up on the coffee table. He aimed the remote at the television and turned down the volume before surfing through the channels. Before he landed on something that held his interest, Mikey had given in to her exhaustion and was sound asleep.

He woke a couple of hours later, a little disoriented and stiff from falling asleep slumped down on the couch. He put his feet down and sat up straight, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, glancing over to where Mikey still slept. She seemed restless, her breathing irregular, head tossing, and he wondered if she was having another nightmare.

He was debating whether to wake her when she let out a breathy moan. His eyebrows rose as he watched her toss and writhe underneath the blanket, more clearly happy sounds muffled in her pillow. This was definitely not a nightmare.

His mind was creating scenes in his head, his body reacting, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop watching and listening. Then she let out a long, low moan ending with his name, and his mouth dropped open in surprise. Well, shit. He needed to leave. Now, before she woke and saw him sitting there staring at her. Go to the kitchen, make some coffee. Or dump some ice down his pants. Something.

He blew out a deep breath and rose to his feet, walking quietly to the kitchen. Turning on the faucet, he braced his hands on the edge of the sink and hung his head, forcing himself to calm before he turned his attention to making a nice, strong pot of coffee. Focus on the coffee. Focus on the backsplash behind the sink. Focus on the fucking royal family. Anything but Mikey in there on the sofa dreaming about some very happy times with him. Bad enough that ever since she had opened the door to let him in, he had been fighting the urge to pull her into his arms, to comfort her. And now this.

He heard a sound from the living room, and closed his eyes for a second before venturing to the doorway to peer into the room. Mikey was sitting up on the couch, and he took a breath and headed in. “You okay?” he asked quietly, and she nodded, not looking up. “Just made some fresh coffee, want some?”

“Yes, please,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He grabbed their cups from earlier in the night and took them to the kitchen, coming back shortly and setting hers down on the table next to her.

He had just sat down at the other end of the couch when she blurted out, “I had another dream.”

Dean took a big gulp of the hot coffee, scorching his tongue in the process. “Oh?”

“It was about you. Well, you and me. Both of us. Together.”

He cleared his throat. “Together?”

Mikey still wasn’t looking at him. “Yes – in bed.”

Dean blew out a breath. “You think it was a memory?”

She nodded, then looked over at him, tears in her eyes. “I’m sure it was. And it wasn’t just the – the physical part of it. It was the emotions. It was…” She stopped for a moment before continuing. “The angels – they stole something very special from us, Dean.”

He couldn’t take seeing her crying again. Damn it. “C’mere,” he said softly, one arm up in invitation. She slid over next to him and let him put his arms around her, and they sat like that for a few minutes in silence.

She finally pulled away with a deep breath, attempting a smile as she met his eyes for just a second before her gaze slid away. “So, I guess I should let you get back to your brother. And I need to take a shower, get dressed, get my shit together.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I should get back. Sure you’re all right?”

“I’ll be fine. I think the worst of it is over. I hope.”

Dean drained his coffee and stood up, stretching. “So – Sammy and I are gonna have to…”

“Get back to your real lives? Yeah.”

“Yeah. We’ll be taking off tomorrow. Mind if we stop by before we leave, just to see how things are going?”

She gave him a little smile and a nod. “Yes, I’d like that. Thanks.”

“Okay. Well, see you then.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “If you need anything before then…”

“I’ve got your number,” she finished for him, and he smiled at her before heading out the door. She sat there in the silence, a million thoughts racing through her brain before she finally made herself get up and head for the shower.

Tags for my lovelies:

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corinthianism · 11 months

Text

last kiss | sam winchester (5)

pairing: sam winchester/f!reader additional tags: best friends to lovers (?), fluff, angst warning(s): implied/referenced non-con

masterlist | previous chapter | ao3

CHAPTER FIVE: TEN SECONDS

You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t even know how much time has passed since Lucifer took you away. He stashed you in some house. It looked like a normal suburban home, except it seemed he used his amped-up archangel abilities to essentially create a whole pocket dimension for you. On a surface level, every day felt like a normal day. Night and day passed just the same as it would in the real world. You had neighbors, and they were both familiar and unfamiliar. “Dean” lived right across the street whilst “Bobby” and “Cas” lived right next to you. The other houses were occupied by random people you didn’t know. It was like a bad djinn hallucination.

The routine was always the same: wake up, eat, try to kill time, sleep, repeat. In the beginning, you thought you were just having a bad dream; that Dean, Bobby, and Cas were really there with you. However, when you tried talking to them, they were way too out of character. Dean acted like a stereotypical macho man with absolutely no personality whatsoever, Bobby’s parental instincts towards you were taken to new heights in an almost cartoony way, and Cas was a helpless imbecile.

Then there was Sam. Sam was the only one who acted like himself. You’d wake up next to him, eat meals with him. You did everything you normally did with him, except in this weird world, you weren’t hunters. It felt eerily similar to the dreams you’ve had before.

He kissed you, touched you in ways the real him would never have the courage to do, but you refused to sleep with him. No matter how many times he tried to initiate it. He wasn’t real, and this was all wrong.

He would leave at exactly 9am everyday. Those first few days, you tried finding a way to escape. You tried talking to your “friends”. You tried hurting them. You tried pleading with Sam. When nothing else worked, you tried killing him.

And he was dead. For a while. The very next day, you woke up next to him again, as if nothing happened. After that, you resigned to just doing whatever you could to not be present in the moment. You played the role of housewife, because there was nothing else you could do.

Until now.

You woke up again, expecting to see the same cream-colored walls and smell the same ever-present smell of lavender. Instead, you were in an unfamiliar room.

The first thing that hit you was that it was rancid compared to what you were used to, as if somebody tried to hide the smell of a dead body with some berry-scented perfume. You turned around, and there was Sam. He donned a fully white suit, his hair uncharacteristically slicked back.

“You’ve been very impressive,” he winked at you, taking his hands out of his pockets to give you a mocking slow clap. This was Lucifer and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t find a trace of Sam. “For someone so in love with him, you did a bang-up job of… well, not banging him.”

You didn’t answer.

“Aww, come on now. Giving me the silent treatment?” he stepped forward. “What if I told you… he could still hear you if you talked to him? Not that he would be able to answer. Not unless I wanted him to, of course.”

That got your attention, and it gave you a boost of courage that had otherwise been taken from you. You ran towards him, grabbing him by the collar.

“Sam? Sam! Listen to me, if you’re in there, you’ve gotta fight it! Take back control, Sam!” you pleaded desperately, your last attempt in getting your best friend back.

His expression changed, and suddenly, he grabbed your shoulders. His body language and the cadence of his voice changed as well, and for a moment, all hope was not lost. It was as if the clouds parted to reveal the sun. This was your Sam.

“You’ve got to get out of here,” he pushed you away, looking around frantically for an exit for you to use. “You have to stay away from me, you have to—”

You took several steps back, turning around to grab the doorknob, only to find that the door was just part of the wallpaper, “What—”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” it echoed from behind you. You turned around slowly, and “Sam” was standing perfectly still and upright once again. “Naughty Sam. Naughty you.”

He approached you, stopping right in front of you before he looked you up and down like a predator assessing its prey.

“So, it’s just you and me now, princess,” he tilted your chin upward to have you look at him. “You know, I can see inside Sammy’s head, and my, my, my… the thoughts he has about you aren’t as innocent as you think they are.”

You scowled at him, even if it was unnatural for you to do such a thing to Sam. This wasn’t Sam anymore, you had to remember that.

“Remember… Jessica? Oh, I bet that one broke your heart. The love of your life going off to some fancy Ivy League and getting a pretty blonde… well, if it’s any consolation, he was always thinking of you. I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason he could get off whenever he was inside her.”

He laughed, as if he said the funniest thing in the world. He traced hearts and random shapes on your cheek, his laughter dying down into a contented sigh.

“You and I are gonna have a lot of fun together,” he finally said, his hand sliding down to your neck, and then to the collar of your button-down plaid shirt. He unbuttoned it once, “Sammy’s screaming at me right now. It’s very annoying.”

He unbuttoned another one, “I don’t see why he’s not enjoying this more, honestly. After all, this is what he wanted. If anything, I’m doing him a favor.”

He leaned closer, and you desperately tried to slow down your breathing. Your heart was pounding, so much so that you were almost sure that Lucifer could hear it. You always wanted Sam, but not like this. Lucifer knew that, and so he would do exactly what he wanted.

Lucifer, in a mission to ruin you forever, took more and more of your dignity with each button he removed. Finally, when your skin was on display for only him to see, a wide grin appeared on his face. Sam’s face.

“You’re never going to be the same after this,” he promised, and all you could do was hide somewhere in your mind where even the devil couldn’t find you.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

Lucifer took you to a cemetery, whispering in your ear about how once Michael showed up, you were gonna see the greatest battle in history. Of course, Lucifer would win.

Ever since that night, you felt like a prisoner of your mind. It was both your safe place and your punishment. You tried to remind yourself that it wasn’t Sam; that it was Lucifer who stole your dignity. Sam would never… Sam could never hurt you the way Lucifer had.

Even in the presence of two archangels, you stayed silent, and accepted your fate. Half of the world was gonna burn to the ground when this was all over, and you just hoped that your death would be quick. You felt sick when Michael looked at you, something akin to both disgust and pity written all over his face.

Then, the familiar rev of Baby’s engine reached your ears. Your head shot up, seeing the Dean riding the Impala into the graveyard, right in front of Michael and Lucifer.

Dean got out of the car, his eyes immediately flickering over to you in worry, but he pressed forward and marched right up to the two archangels.

“Hey, we need to talk.”

Lucifer scoffed, “Dean. Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid.”

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Sam.”

“You’re no longer the vessel, Dean. You got no right to be here.”

Dean turned to Michael, his voice filled with sincerity and regret, “Adam, if you’re in there somewhere, I’m so sorry.”

“Adam isn’t home right now.”

Castiel and Bobby arrived, with Cas throwing a can of holy fire at Michael to keep him at bay. This irked Lucifer, who then snapped his fingers. Cas exploded, leaving behind bits and pieces of blood and flesh.

“You know… I tried to be nice, for Sammy’s sake. But you are… such a pain in my ass,” he threw Dean against the windshield of the Impala.. Bobby shot at Lucifer’s back, prompting Lucifer to twist his hand. Bobby’s neck snapped.

Your eyes widened, two of the people you cared about was just murdered by Lucifer, and you’d be damned if you weren’t gonna do something about it. You ran towards Lucifer, trying to get him away from Dean. With a flick of his hand, you were thrown against a nearby tree. The impact was enough to knock you out for a few seconds, your vision falling in and out of darkness.

You laid motionless on top of the pile of dry, dead leaves, unable to do anything but watch. Lucifer got closer to Dean, grabbing him by the legs and then punching him.

“No!” was what you wanted to say, but nothing came out. You could feel a branch poking at the skin of your back.

Lucifer kept punching Dean, over and over until Dean’s face was barely recognizable.

Then something happened.

His fist was still raised in the air, and you could see the internal war raging inside him. His hands shook, and his grip on the collar of Dean’s shirt loosened. There was a glint in his eyes, one that told you whether or not the body you were talking to was Lucifer or Sam. You held your breath, eyes lasered in his face, not sure if the person in front of you was your Sam.

For him, it felt like time had stopped. There was no apocalypse. No Lucifer. No Michael, no nothing.

All he could see was the toy soldier stuck in the Impala’s ashtray. That was enough for him. The sight of the toy, the memories etched into the car, the image of his bloodied brother in front of him who, even then, was still unwilling to fight.

The memories didn’t hit him like an outside force, they came from him, blossomed from a place he forgot about. Locked in a treasure chest he kept in the deepest corners of his soul, where not even the devil could touch it. Clear as day, he relived every single one, and with each memory, the clearing grew wider. He could crawl out and push Lucifer back.

He saw it all: the good, the bad, and the ugly. He remembered sticking that toy in the ash tray, and the stern, drunken scolding that he got from his dad soon after. He remembered him and Dean etching their initials on the car door. He remembered the fireworks. The countless nights of booze and fastfood takeout. Lying down on the hood of the car to watch the stars whenever they were in between cases. All the times Dean saved his ass, yelled at him, laughed with him, and everything in between.

His eyes met yours, and the sight of you broke his heart all over again.

Sam didn’t have much time. This much he knew. He could feel the mind-melting, soul-breaking pain of Lucifer scratching at his walls— no, he was tearing them down, howling to be in control once more. Sam could hear every single scream and whisper that Lucifer was filling his ears with and it was too much. In his gut swelled the familiar hatred that the fallen archangel harbored for humanity, and it wasn’t the boiling hot rage that most people would expect. It was the kind of hatred that flowed through each and every single blood vessel in your body; the kind that only a being as old as the devil could feel. It was quiet, deadly. It was the kind of hatred that consumed you, built up from eons of being locked in a cage like an animal. Lucifer blurred the lines between his anger and Sam’s, and that scared the younger Winchester.

But standing there with you, seeing you as if it was the first time, Sam thought he could bear it, if only a little while longer. Standing there with you made it clear that that hatred couldn’t possibly be his own, because how could he ever hate you? No, Sam Winchester loved you, and it came to him as easy as breathing.

More memories broke through, and this time, they’re of you. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled. The sound of your laughter in the early morning. The time you helped him make a girl jealous in 8th grade when it was really just an excuse to be close to you. The time you kissed him when you were as high as a kite after getting your wisdom teeth removed.

If he closed his eyes, he could feel the ghost of your lips on his and pretend that everything was alright. Lucifer would not take this away from him.

Finally, Sam lowered his fist and gasped as his senses were flooded with everything. You could almost sob in relief, if it wasn’t for the fact that it wouldn’t be long until Michael and Lucifer came back with a vengeance, but nothing could ever be worse than what would come next. Sam took several steps back, rummaging through his pocket to retrieve the Four Horsemen’s rings. Your muscles ached as you tried to get back up, but nothing could trump the pain in your chest as you watched Sam slowly back away from Dean.

It’s cruel, probably the cruelest thing that the universe threw at you. You had seconds of clarity, and they were the seconds counting down to the love of your life’s suicide. Sam looked at Dean, and then at you, and you almost wished he didn’t. For a moment, you thought that maybe this was all some one sick, twisted nightmare and that you were gonna wake up any minute now. You blinked, but Dean was still beaten and bloody and Sam still felt so far away. There were tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Even now, he still tried to keep on a brave face for you. It almost made you smile. A tiny part of you hoped that maybe the apocalypse wouldn’t be so bad as long as you went down with him. Almost as if you wanted Lucifer to win just so you could keep Sam in the only way you could. The thought passed as quickly as it came, all while feeling like a knife had been twisted in your stomach.

“It’s gonna be okay, I got him,” he breathed heavily, stepping away from you and Dean even further. “We’re gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

He sounded as if he didn’t really believe himself either.

He pulled out the Horsemen’s rings from his pocket and threw them on the ground, chanting the incantation to open the cage. The ground shook, and before you knew it, a large pit had opened up in the soil. From where you stood, all you could see was a black void, but you knew what it was. It was hell. It was the deepest, darkest, most depraved part of hell and Sam was going in with a one-way ticket.

“Sammy,” your voice broke. He turns his head to look at you again. You didn’t know what to say. Did you want to stop him? Jump into the pit with him? Profess your undying love for him?

None of those options seemed right. The clock was ticking.

Ten.

You could see how scared he was, his hands trembled with the weight of what he was about to do. You wanted to go up to him, hold him, tell him that he was going to be okay, but you couldn’t. It was dangerous, yes, but you knew that if you took even just one step closer to him, you wouldn’t let him go.

Nine.

“I’m sorry,” he called you. “For everything.”

He took another step back. He knew what Lucifer did to you, and it crushed him. It took everything in him to not go to you and protect you the way he wanted to. To beg for your forgiveness.

Eight.

“Sam, please,” you begged, though you weren’t sure what you were begging for. You looked over at Dean, trying to get him to back you up. World be damned, you won’t fucking lose Sam. Dean could only stare back at you, his head hung low in defeat. He was letting go, and he was telling you to do the same.

Seven.

The air seemed to grow heavier, and Sam yelled at you and Dean to stay back. Even though it broke your heart to do so, you did as he asked, scurrying over to Dean’s side to help him get away from Sam. Dean grunted in pain, clutching your hand that was on his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart under your palm.

Six.

Sam called your name, and nothing was more important. You stood up, heart clenched in anticipation.

“I need,” he took a deep breath. “I need you to know.”

Five.

“Need to know what, Sam?” a cry escaped your lungs.

“That it’s always been you,” he smiled sadly, voice barely heard over the chaos. “It was always gonna be you.”

It was odd, the way the heat rushed to your cheeks. The way your own heart beat twice, thrice as fast than it already was. You could almost let the world around you fade away. There was only Sam.

He spoke again, a little louder, a little braver, “You know that, right?”

Four.

“I know,” you tried to stifle your sobs. His admission hung in the air, filling your lungs with everything that was him. He loved you, and you always knew.

“That’s my girl,” he kept smiling, determined to make sure that that was the last thing you saw. He didn’t want you to remember his death. He just wanted you to remember him.

Sam knew why you didn’t say it, and it was for the same reason he did. It was better this way. Saying those three words would set things in stone, and especially now that he was seconds away from his death, he didn’t see the point of hurting you that much more.

Three.

Michael returned, a wave of unseen energy washing over you and Dean at his arrival. His anger distorted Adam’s young face. Panic overtook the anger, however, when he noticed just how close Sam was from jumping off the edge.

Two.

Sam closed his eyes, letting gravity pull him in. Michael screamed, rushing over to stop Sam from falling in. For a split-second, you feared the worst would come to pass. That Michael would save Sam and just resume his world-ending battle with Lucifer.

Sam’s eyes shot open when Michael’s hands tried to get him away from the pit but immediately, his gaze flickered over to you.

You, with the pain of a thousand lifetimes weighing on you, and the cuts and bruises and tears to show for it.

You, with the laughter that pulled him out of every nightmare on the days when his own mind wouldn’t let him rest.

You, with the proud, contagious smile after every hilariously bad joke, all because you wanted to see him smile, too.

His heart was yours, perhaps it had been since the beginning, but Sam knew one thing: this world was better with you in it.

With all the strength he could muster, he grabbed Michael by the lapel of Adam’s jacket, and pulled him into the pit.

Sam was gone.

One.

When the pit closed up and left nothing but the Four Horsemen’s rings behind, you forced yourself to move away from Dean and approach the rings, kneeling by the spot where the pit just was. The world was safe again, though you didn’t know how long that would last. The grass was soft under the palm of your hand, as if there wasn’t a massive doorway to hell there just moments prior. You let yourself cry; to truly pour your heart out for someone who wouldn’t be able to hear it.

You would never have another morning coffee run with him or another all-nighter spent on researching monster lore. No more pop culture debates or stitching up each other’s wounds. You would never make him smile, ruffle his hair, or hold his hand again, nor would you feel him keeping an eye on you while you slept.

Since before you hunted your first monster, Sam had been by your side. Now that you didn’t have him, it felt as though you weren’t a whole person. Like your very soul had been torn apart and its pieces were lost in the wind, never to be complete again.

Castiel returned, seemingly resurrected by none other than God Himself, and immediately helped Dean and Bobby get back up on their feet, all shiny and new. When he walked over to you, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek and heal all your wounds, you moved away. Your face was littered with small cuts from being thrown to the side by Lucifer, and you were sure there would be a massive bruise on your back from the impact.

You still refused to be healed.

“Let it be,” you told Cas quietly. He frowned, hesitant to heed your request, but he obliged anyway.

Seconds. It only took seconds for you to lose everything. You didn’t know what you were feeling; if only there was a word, any word, for you to explain to Dean, Cas, maybe Bobby, the way you felt everything and nothing at the same time.

Truth be told, you were lucky to have only lost one person, but the lingering question in your mind was why did it have to be the person who meant everything to you? There was no answer, and the silence was the worst of it. Sam wasn’t there to tell you that he’s okay, and he won’t be able to ever again. Your injuries ached. You almost welcomed the discomfort, desperate for anything to keep you grounded.

A large hand rested on your shoulder. It was Dean. You shared a look with him, a silent exchange of “I’m sorry” and “I’m here” to each other. In your grief, it was easy to forget that Dean had lost his baby brother, just as you had lost the love of your life. Moments later, Bobby stood beside the two of you. Three people brought together in grief that they weren’t sure they could ever recover from. You knew then and there, that you’d spend the rest of your life picking up the tiny little pieces of your heart, trying to be okay. Because that’s what Sam would’ve wanted.

You would never know so many things. The pain he’d go through. The fact that as he fell into the darkness, white-hot flames burning his flesh, he thought of you. Poked and prodded, stabbed and skinned, broken and put back together just to be broken again. What Sam knew, even if you didn’t, was that he’d make this same choice again and again because he knew you would be okay.

Sam Winchester died, and it came as easy to him as loving you.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural #dean winchester #jared padalecki #reader insert

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castieldelamancha · 1 year

Text

Castiel stands still as Dean approaches him. He briefly eyes the light blue box he just left on the table, recognizing the logo of a bakery they drove by on their first day here.

He stands still as Dean stops in front of him, stretching the elastic band of the party hat in his hands in order to get it on Castiel, adjusting the hat on his head so it's slightly tilted to the side, on the opposite direction Castiel's head is tilted to in confusion.

Dean takes a short step back and Castiel briefly wonders when is and isn't right and acceptable to invade someone's personal space, but he doesn't say anything he simply watches Dean as he admires his work, his gaze focusing on the way his hands twitch slightly, how he lifts them as if to reach to touch Cas only to lower them down again, he does so a couple of times until he finally settles for adjusting Cas' tie and brushing off some non-existent dust off his shoulders.

"Happy birthday, Cas." He smiles brightly and Castiel, if that's even possible, feels even more confused than before.

"It's really not my birthday, I don't have one of those," Dean's face falls slightly at that, but the expression is gone almost as quick as it appeared in his features, not like he even understands why some logical reasoning would upset Dean.

Dean rolls his eyes, "I know that, but we humans have that one day where we celebrate a person, I thought you could have one too and I-" he trails away, now staring anywhere but at Castiel when before it seemed he couldn't look away from his eyes, "well I thought we could celebrate you on the day we met."

September 18th. Castiel remembers now. That's the day on the calendar today.

Sam, who had been watching the scene unfold up to that point from the motel room's table, with its wobbly legs and it's scratched wooden surface, turns his head away, probably trying to school his features because in Castiel's opinion, he made a quite strange face at Dean's statement.

Castiel doesn't see the point on telling Dean they met before this day, so he doesn't say anything at all, part of him not wishing to be the cause of another hurt look in Dean's eyes

"It's stupid, really, uhm." Dean is rambling, nervously, he is also blushing, lightly.

Castiel reaches out and awkwardly pats his shoulder, he smiles softly, the gesture still feels so unfamiliar to him, "thank you so much, Dean." They stare at each other for a while and Castiel, usually aware of everything around them, forgets about the Earth spinning slowly around the Sun, about the noise outside, the heat of billions of stars and the voices of his brothers and sisters echoing in the back of his mind. There is only Dean, and the easy smile on his lips that reaches his tired but bright green eyes, and the brilliance of that soul that still catches Castiel off of guard with its love and bravery.

Sam clears his throat, breaking the stillness of their shared moment, "have you bought a candle too or something? I mean not like we can get a cake big enough-"

"Pie." Dean interrupts.

Sam huffs lightly, "a pie big enough to get all the candles for Cas' age on it."

Dean laughs at that with a muttered, "you are too old buddy," that has Castiel nodding in agreement because he is, indeed, too old. Dean proceeds to take a little plastic package out of his pocket with a single blue and white candle inside, "I got everything we need."

And Castiel doesn't know it yet, but Dean also has a hastily wrapped present for him in that very same pocket of his jacket.

Castiel stands still as Dean approaches him. He knows well by now that glint in his eyes, his barely contained excitement and the playful smile on his lips. He doesn't even need to look at the party hat in his hands or notice the familiar smile of freshly baked pie coming from the kitchen to know Dean has planned something.

Castiel is a bit at a loss here, he knows it's not their anniversary yet, it isn't Dean's birthday either.

So he simply waits. He stands still, feeling a sense of deja vú as Dean stretches the elastic band of the hat to put it on Castiel's head, slightly crooked to the left. Dean doesn't step back, his eyes moving from the hat to Castiel and, with sure and steady hands testimony of how far they have come after all these years, his right hand closes over Castiel's jaw and the other settles on his lower back pulling him closer.

"We haven't really got the chance to celebrate your birthday since that time, all those years ago," he explains, a hint of guilt in his voice, " so, since the world isn't ending for once, I thought it would be nice to do it again."

September 18th, Castiel remembers now, that's the day on the calendar today.

"It's really not my birthday, I don't have one of those," Dean's face falls slightly, "but if I had one," he adds, trying to avoid upsetting Dean when this is clearly something important to him, and Castiel sees the appeal in this too, stop mourning and start celebrating, " I would love it to be today, the day we met again all those years ago.

The day that started it all.

September 18th.

He had never felt as alive as in that moment, with his wings manifesting with the power of a thunderstorm, a knife through his heart and the brightest soul he had ever had the honor of holding close right in front of him.

He had never felt as alive as he did fighting side by side with Dean, as he did in their shared laughter and sorrow.

As he does now, in their love.

They stare at each other and he gladly loses himself in the depths of Dean's gaze. He can't feel the Earth turning anymore, he can't hear the noise outside or feel the warmth of all the stars in the skies above, it has been a long time since he last heard another angel's voice echoing in the back of his mind. If he could still experience all those things they would be gone now, completely forgotten.

He crosses the short distance between them and presses his lips to Dean's, "thank you so much, my Dean." He then chuckles lightly, what makes Dean, that was leaning forwards, chasing his lips, stop and frown at him, "how many candles do I have to blow? I am concerned, see, my lungs aren't what they used to be anymore."

Dean laughs too, shaking his head lightly, "just the one, I actually managed to find the same one we used the first time around." He takes the candle, safe inside a plastic package, out of the front pocket of the flannel he is wearing and proudly shows it to Cas, and there it is, the single candle with its white and blue swirls.

"C'mon," Dean kisses Cas once more, stepping away from him and offering him his hand, "you actually can eat pie this time without tasting every molecule in it."

Castiel takes the offered hand and allows Dean to guide him to the kitchen.

#destiel #long post #september 18th #it's cas' birthday today bitchesssssssss #and i just got out of work and i am so tired i could pass out right now #ficlet #vanessa writes ✨#tuserpris

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thisisapaige · 2 years

Text

for suptober22 day 10: enchanted

The bunker appeared massive from Dean's vantage point. The library table he stood upon was a vast prairie of finished wood. The lights overhead felt like a thousand blazing suns. The two faces staring down at him belonged to giants. Sam was always huge, but now he was King Kong-sized. Cas really was the size of the Chrysler Building.

"What happened to him?" Cas's voice rumbled from far above, vibrating the table.

Dean slid across the surface. Sam reached down and stopped Dean's movement with a hand the size of a turkey meant to feed a family of twelve.

"He touched an enchanted object while we were cleaning the storage room," Sam said. He walked out of view, his footsteps echoing thunder. He returned with the object in question, a sparking green jewel wrapped in a plaid hand towel, and showed it to Cas. "I told him to be careful."

Dean would have protested, pulled a face, punched him, or something. But that Dean couldn't. Dean couldn't do much of anything. He had a featureless face save for his green button eyes, an oval body, and four rounded limbs in the approximation of legs and arms protruding from it.

He was a crochet doll. Not even a good one.

Causing a crash and an earthquake, Cas crouched to be at eye-level with Dean. Cas's face was huge, blue eyes the size of oceans, the stubble across his cheeks a forest, and the nails on the end of his fingers resting on the table shining pools of holy light. Dean figured most people would look horrible at this angle, but Cas appeared divine, good. Dean felt like he'd snatched a small, privileged glimpse of the true form hidden under Cas's vessel. It must be beautiful.

On the other hand, Sam wasn't fairing so well from Dean's perspective. He could see right up Sam's nose. Oh, Dean was handing him the trimmer the second he had usable hands.

Cas cupped a hand around Dean's new body, his touch warm, gentle, and tingling with grace. "I can feel his presence. He is alive. Just..."

"A half-finished amigurumi doll?" Sam sighed. The resulting wind would have launched Dean over the table's edge if Cas hadn't been holding him steady. "How do we fix him?"

Cas held his free hand out to Sam. "May I see that gem?"

Sam carefully placed the object in Cas's hand, the towel covering every piece of exposed skin. Cas stared at it, at the swirling green light in the centre, his brow wrinkling in concentration. He concentrated for so long, Dean wondered if the gem could make time stop, too. He would have that kind of luck.

"Sam," Cas said, "please stand back."

The resulting booms indicated that Sam followed the command, then Dean's world tipped sideways. Everything blurred as he moved. Dean couldn't shut his plastic eyes to stave off the motion sickness. His yarn stomach lurched and churned, if that were possible, as he ascended up, up, up.

Finally, it stopped, and Dean realized he was safely cupped in Cas's palm. It was kind of nice if he ignored the circumstances. It was similar to lounging in a hammock, if the hammock was made out of fleshy appendages.

Okay, Dean made it weird.

Ringing filled the room, then bright blue light blotted out everything. The blue became mixed with green, and Dean unravelled.

Literally.

While it didn't hurt, it was a strange sensation, like how he imagined a ferret flattening its body to shove itself through the gap in the bottom of a closed door felt. It began with his leg, the yarn stretching and spinning until it was the size of a human's, one at a time. His arms suffered the same treatment until his cotton parts turned into skin, muscle, and bone. The transformation ended when Dean's eyes formed, pushing the two buttons out until they clacked against the floor.

The light faded and the noise ceased. Cas dropped the gem, which skidded under the table, dull, dark, and lifeless.

Dean's ears rang. His swallowed, his throat dry. Dean's limbs, Dean's human limbs, swung in the air. He blinked over and over again to clear his vision.

Holy shit, Cas held him in his arms, one hand at his back and the other at his knees. Dean didn't try to free himself, didn't want to. Instead, he rested his head against Cas's broad muscled chest. He felt Cas's eyes on him and looked up to meet them, smiling shyly. Dean could swim in that ocean.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said. "Thanks for the rescue."

Cas tipped his head. "Of course, Dean."

Sam loudly cleared his throat from behind them. Dean and Cas paid him no mind.

#suptober22 #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #spncreatorsdaily #feathersforcas #deancaskiss #mild #body horror cw #poor sam #team free will #enjoy!#writing paige

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quicksilver-castiel · 2 months

Text

Everybody wants to go to Heaven

Pairing: Kate Milligan/Mary Winchester

Archive warnings: None

Length: 4k

Rating: Mature

Summary:

After Mary first came back from the dead, she thought she remembered everything there was about her previous life. Now that she has died a second time and the meddling God has been defeated, she realises that her memories might have been a little skewed.

That's not the only unexpected discovery awaiting her, though. Not when the pretty woman she meets in that new Heaven Jack made turns out to be the mother of one of John's children, too.

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Heaven was different here, Mary decided as she surveyed the rolling fields, straining her eyes to make out a building of some sort in the distance. It was less bright here than in the other place, she thought even as she shaded her eyes from the sun, the colours less washed out. Everything seemed more real, somehow, and if Cas’ words were anything to go by, at least the people were real. Not just memories of those she had known in life, but actual, breathing- well, maybe not breathing, or living, but definitely existing humans.

Speaking of Castiel, he stepped up next to her, hands in the pockets of his trench coat, which billowed slightly in the breeze.

“What do you think?” he asked, taking it all in himself, even though he must have seen it a thousand times by now.

“Well, I haven't seen much of it yet. And the others... you said everyone here is a friend of Sam and Dean?” Mary asked, trying to hide her anxiousness, but feeling herself biting her lower lip.

After a moment of consideration, Castiel said: ”Mostly, yes. They've never met Bill Hargreeves, but we could hardly exclude him when his wife and daughter are here.” He stopped again for a moment, glancing at Mary before facing away again. “He's one of those who are only tangentially connected with Sam and Dean. And we've been thinking of bringing more people here. When we have more open plan Heavens, everyone can choose where to go, but for now Jack wants to give everyone who he has met or heard of before a preview, so to speak.”

Mary smiled. “He's a good kid.”

Again, Cas looked at her, but this time his eyes didn't leave again. “You do remember what happened, right?”

“You mean how I died?” Mary sighed. “Yeah. I should have backed off, shouldn't have crowded him like that. Should have known he wasn’t himself, that he couldn’t control himself.”

“It was orchestrated to happen, I think,” Cas said, looking sad.

Right. Because his father – the actual God – had meant for it to happen. Because he had toyed with everyone's lives, most of all those of the people surrounding her sons.

“That's over now, right? Free will actually means something?” Mary shifted uncomfortably. Ever since dying again, she had been remembering more and more about her own life, especially about those first few years with John.

He hadn't been sweet on her, as she’d always told herself. Not at first.

She hadn't been sweet on him either.

As of yet, she hadn't asked anyone to confirm, but she wasn't stupid. If she and John had to have children in order for them to be perfect vessels or whatever, it stood to reason that Heaven would have interfered in case of any hiccups.

Like the two destined people not liking each other.

“Yes, it's over now,” Cas said gently.

While he could be quite blunt at times, which she also appreciated, Mary had come to find that Cas could be very sweet when dealing with people he liked. Mostly, she'd seen it directed at Jack. Sometimes at Dean or Sam.

It felt a little odd to be included in this intimate circle. Not that it felt bad, but did she really deserve to be looked at by him like that?

Perhaps he was just extending his gentleness to her as a favour to Sam and Dean.

Just like everything in her life, and even her after-life, was connected to Sam and Dean.

But there would be time enough to chew on that. For now, all she could do was step forward, and see where it would take her.

Literally.

She started walking towards the building in the distance, leaving Cas to contemplate the field.

The building turned out to be a bar called The Roadhouse, a somewhat ramshackle wooden place, but with a homey feel to it. Its inhabitants seemed to be varied – there were the Hargreeves, a family of hunters, and Bobby, though not the one Mary knew. But there was also a young man named Ash, who talked like a hippie and was apparently some kind of genius regarding computers or the internet or something.

Then there was a man named Rufus, who would gripe at Bobby, and he would in turn roll his eyes and gripe back.

From what she was told, not everyone had known each other in life, though everyone knew at least someone there, except for Mary.

Then someone else walked in. A blonde woman around Mary’s age, a little smaller than her, with a petite frame. She was accompanied by Jack, who gave Mary a somewhat sad smile, but proceeded to introduce the mystery woman.

“This is Kate. She's Adam's mother.” When no one said anything, Jack frowned. “Oh right, you probably don't know who Adam is.”

“Wait,” Bobby said, stepping forward. “Adam as in... John's other kid?”

Mary froze. John's what?

Kate's face grew clouded. “He's my son. John...” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Was anyone going to tell me that John had other children?” Mary asked, and regretted the sharpness in her voice when Kate looked at her with wide eyes.

“I only know about the one. And last I checked, he was still in Hell,” Bobby muttered.

“He was where?” Mary gaped at him, and Bobby looked away.

“He came back. Together with Michael,” Jack started explaining, but hesitated when Mary turned to stare at him. “Not that Michael. Another one. A... better one. Kinder.”

Bobby huffed. “'Kind' ain't a word I'd use for him, kid.”

Jack contemplated this. “Maybe he wasn't like that when you met him. And maybe you need the comparison to the other Michael to use that word, but... He's been helping. We wouldn't have come so far without him.”

Mary shook her head in disbelief. This other Michael really must have been very different from the one she'd met.

“Whatever. But you said...” Mary turned towards Kate. “Your son is John's...” She couldn't continue that sentence.

Kate looked at her curiously. “Yes, John is his father.” She pursed her lips. “Even if he barely deserves that title, after what he pulled him into.”

“He didn't do it on purpose,” Jack said cautiously. “He couldn't have known what role his sons were meant to play in Heaven's plans.”

“No, but he could have told us that monsters exist. He could have been there and protected us.” The bitterness was evident in both Kate's voice and on her face. “But of course, he couldn't be bothered. And we paid the price for it.”

Mary looked at her for a long moment. Another woman disappointed by John. Another son he had failed to raise properly, who he had not been there for.

This one, he had apparently messed up by not making him a hunter.

“It's difficult,” she heard herself say, “to know what to tell your children. Or your spouse. If you tell them, life as they know it will be over. The world will suddenly be a dangerous place full of monsters.”

“The world has always been a dangerous place,” Kate said coldly. “And the monsters were there anyway.”

“Sure, but what do you think the world becomes when you tell a five-year-old that the monsters under his bed – or in the closet – are real?” Mary had to take a deep breath and force herself not to think of her own dad.

She couldn’t quite keep the image of a blade shining in the glow of her night light out of her head.

But Kate was having none of it. “Adam wasn't five. And neither was I! Hell, John never knew Adam when he was five. He was eleven by the time he got me to cave and call his dad. And John... what? Forgot to tell us he was hunting monsters instead of being a truck driver? He lied to us.”

“He was protecting you,” Mary said softly.

“Bullshit,” Kate said sternly.

Behind Mary, Bobby snorted. “Now I know where the kid gets it from.”

“Well, I think we can all agree,” Rufus said, getting up from his chair and drawing everyone's attention, “that John Winchester was kind of an ass.”

Ellen Harvelle made a sound of protest while Jo laughed in disbelief. Bobby glared at Rufus.

“You never even met him,” Bobby said gruffly.

“Yeah, but from what I heard, he was a real ray of sunshine.”

Mary sighed. Bobby and Rufus were starting to remind her of those two old muppets. She couldn't currently remember their names, but Dean had loved them as a kid.

“Well,” Bill said, “Rufus ain’t completely wrong.”

Ellen swatted him with a dish towel and shook her head, but she was smiling.

“John was a lot of things. Complicated. Stubborn.” Mary heard her own voice hollowing out on the next word. “Angry. Righteous. Easily obsessed.” She let out a mirthless laugh. “I guess he fit right into the family.”

When she shook herself out of her reflections and looked around, everyone was giving her pitying looks.

Great.

“Anyway,” she muttered, turning back to Kate. “I'm not trying to defend John's character. But not drawing your son into the hunting life... that definitely wasn't one of his worst decisions.”

“Yeah,” Kate said, but her eyes were cold. “I bet the monsters that ate Adam and me thought it was a great move.”

Mary had to close her eyes as she winced. “I'm so sorry.”

When she opened her eyes again, Kate was giving her a calculating look. “You were his wife?”

“Yeah.” Mary hesitated. “For a few years. And then I died.”

Kate weighed her head. “This might be insensitive, but you don't look that much younger than me.”

A weak smile appeared on Mary's face as she tried and probably failed not to show her sadness. “I was 29 when I died the first time. But when I came back... well, let's just say I suddenly had a lot more back pain than I used to.”

Kate stared at her, mouth slightly open until she managed to close it. There was pity in her eyes, now, too, and Mary gritted her teeth and turned away.

“My boys,” she said. “John turned them into hunters. Monster killers. They lost their home when I died and instead of finding another, John dragged them from motel to motel. He went where there were monsters to kill, and he took Sam and Dean with him.”

When she glanced at Bobby, he looked like he wanted to say something. But the moment their eyes met, he looked away.

“They deserved better,” Mary continued. “They deserved to be kids.”

Kate's face was unreadable.

Behind her, Jo sat a bottle of whiskey down on the bar. “This sounds like a topic for drinks.”

Mary didn't know how they had gotten there, but a couple of shots in, Kate and her started talking about their kids.

“You should have seen the look on Adam's face when the coke reacted to the Mentos. He was so convinced that it was magic, and that I was somehow the most powerful magician in the world.” Kate giggled. “And when I told him it was science... I ended up having to tell him all about molecules.”

Mary smiled, and sipped her whiskey. “How old was he?”

Kate snorted. “Six.” She shook her head. “I didn't even know the word molecule at that age. But Adam had no problem understanding that the world was made up of particles so small that we can't see them with the naked eye.” She sipped her drink. Mary had already forgotten what it was, but it was blue and had a little umbrella in it.

“Sounds like you raised him right,” Mary said.

Kate's smile became sad. “I tried. But he mostly raised himself. Next to my work, I barely had enough time or energy to even take care of the house, much less him.”

Mary frowned. “Where did you work?”

“Hospital. I was a nurse.” Kate looked at her sheepishly. “That's how I met John. He came to the ER. Guess I should have known back then that he was lying when he talked about having fallen out of the door of his truck. But...”

Mary felt the corner of her mouth lifting up. “But he was charming,” she said. “And you wanted to believe him.”

“Yeah.” Kate glanced at her again, seeming surprisingly sober now. “I guess you know what that's like?”

The smile on Mary's face was sad, and she took another sip of her whiskey to hide it. “My fingers and toes aren't enough to count how many times he promised me he'd pull himself together. That he wouldn't get angry at every little thing, and wouldn't vanish again for days on end.” She swirled the amber liquid in her glass, then put it back down on the bar. “I wanted to believe him too.”

“You're not defending him anymore,” Kate said matter-of-factly.

Mary shook her head. “I never meant to imply that he's done nothing wrong. He definitely has, and not too little.” She grimaced. “He screwed up my boys. But then, I screwed them up some more.”

“It's hard, being a mother.”

“They saved the world,” Mary said, pride and sadness warring in her voice. “Is it bad that I wish they could just be safe and happy?”

“That's what every mother wants for her kids.” Kate put a hand on Mary's back. It was warm, even through the layers Mary was wearing. Maybe it was because they were souls here, and didn't have actual bodies.

“The worst thing is that I understand it.” Mary picked up her whiskey glass and Kate dropped her hand. The spot on Mary's back where it had laid instantly felt cold. “John's actions, I mean. Not so much the revenge, but... The demons came after me, what stopped them from coming after Sam and Dean? They needed to learn how to protect themselves.” She drained her glass in one big gulp. “Even if that meant putting a knife in a five year old's hands.”

She smiled at Kate, but she could feel that her eyes were dead.

“Don't get me wrong. I can understand it – but that doesn't mean that I can forgive it.”

Kate weighed her head. “They might have died if they had led a normal life. Like Adam. Maybe not at his age, but eventually.”

Mary thought about it. Heaven had had an eye on her boys since before they had been born, she was pretty sure. They wouldn't have gotten away.

Kate was right. They would have just gotten dead.

“I guess it's useless to dwell on it,” Mary eventually said.

Kate raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, well, I'm still going to punch John if I ever see him again.”

Mary couldn't help it – she laughed.

It might have been hours later, or maybe days. It was difficult to tell time in Heaven, Mary thought as she kept drinking with Kate. Sometimes, Ellen joined them for shots, and Mary talked to Bobby and Rufus for a hot minute, but mostly she and Kate sat together in what was sometimes companionable silence and at other times animated conversation.

And then John walked into the bar.

Mary might not even have realised it, if everyone around her hadn't progressively grown silent. Bobby grumbled something under his breath that sounded like a curse while Ellen looked calculatingly between John, Mary and Kate.

When John's eyes fell on Mary, they widened. He took a step towards her, a smile forming on his face - and then he saw Kate.

“What-”

“Hey John,” Mary said, and downed the last of her whiskey in one go. The sound of the glass hitting the wood was loud in the silent Roadhouse. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” John said, his eyes flitting between Mary and Kate. “Mary-”

“What, you think it's awkward because Kate is here? Don't worry about that. I was dead, it's not like you cheated on me.” Mary shrugged. If they were going by that, she had also cheated on him, with Ketch and those others.

She had thought that having sex would help her feel better. No, that wasn't quite right – she had thought that it would help her feel young again.

Of course, it had done quite the opposite. It had just shown her how different her body was to what she’d remembered.

John smiled again, though a little more timidly, and took another step towards Mary. He stopped when he saw the expression on her face, and his eyes flitted down to where she had her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Sweetheart?” he asked, his smile wavering.

“Don't 'sweetheart' me,” Mary hissed. “You made my boys into hunters, John.”

John's eyes widened for a moment, and then he frowned. “How do you even know-”

“Never mind how I know. You put a gun into Dean's hand when he was a little boy. He never got to be a child because of you!” Mary felt tears stinging her eyes as she spoke, and tried to will them away. Maybe she was being hypocritical, using this against John when Dean had hurled it at her.

It had been her fault that she had died, after all. She had made that deal with the yellow-eyed demon, and she hadn't been strong enough to fight him when he had come back.

But it had been John's decision to go down the path of revenge, and to take his two small children with him.

“Mary, after you died...” John trailed off, closing his eyes, then tried again. “We had to get the thing that got you.”

“And then what?” Mary shook her head, and took a step back when John tried to come towards her again. “You made my sons into killers. They're never going to have a normal life, and that's on you. You did the same to them that my father-”

She broke off, and had to look away.

A warm hand laid down gently on her back as Kate stepped up next to her.

“You made those boys into soldiers, John,” she said with an authority that made her seem tall, even though she was half a head smaller than Mary. “And you failed to even tell me or Adam that there was danger out there.”

“Kate-” John started, but she took a step forward, interrupting him.

“Nineteen, John. That's how old my boy was when he was ripped apart by-” Kate was audibly holding back tears. “-by those monsters.”

John's face fell. He hadn't wanted any of this, that much was clear. Who would?

But that didn't excuse it.

“Kate, listen. I just wanted him to grow up feeling safe, grow up normal-”

“Well, he didn't! He didn't grow up at all! Feeling safe is all well and good when you are safe, but not when there are monsters out for your head because your father killed one of them before!” Kate was seething again. By now, Mary knew that she hadn't personally witnessed Adam's death, but she had certainly heard about it – and all that had followed his death.

He was doing fine now, or at least he seemed to think so. It was difficult for Mary to wrap her head around the whole thing with him and that other Michael, but then Kate wasn't doing all that better on that front.

“Kate... I didn't know,” John said, and took a step towards her.

She shook her head, her pretty blonde hair flying. “No, you didn't. And that's the point. You thought you knew better than anyone else, that you had the right to keep these things from us, to do whatever you wanted. Well, guess what.”

Kate positioned herself right in front of John. Even though she was small and petite, and had to look up at him, he instinctively cringed back.

“You're not the arbiter of who gets to live in innocence and who doesn't,” she hissed.

John squared his shoulders. “Kate, with all due respect, but you don't know anything about what it means to be-”

He never got to finish that sentence, because Kate's fist collided so hard with his face that his head was thrown to the side, and he stumbled and fell to his knees. Now Kate was standing over him, all righteous fury, her fists trembling.

“With all due respect, John, but you're the one who doesn't know anything. You barely even knew us, but even you should have realised that neither Adam nor me are some kind of delicate flowers who need you to protect us from harsh truths. All you did was put us in danger by association, and not even tell us about it.”

Mary walked over while John struggled to his feet. In the back of her jeans pocket were the brass knuckles which were one of the first items she'd bought on Earth.

Just as John had stood up again, she punched him right in his stupid face. He went down like a wet sack of potatoes.

“That one was for Dean's childhood,” she said coldly. Then she kicked John's head. “And that one for Sam's.”

John didn't move. The Roadhouse was silent.

Finally, Jo said: “Is he... dead?”

“We're all dead, kid,” Rufus answered, and noisily slurped his whiskey.

Kate crouched down and felt for his pulse. “He's alive – as much as any of us are,” she said. Then she glanced up at Mary. “What should we do with him?”

Mary shrugged. “Let him lie here, I'm sure he'll wake up eventually.”

Kate nodded, and stood. “Sorry for the mess,” she said to Ellen.

“No worries. Bobby, Rufus, why don't you help the ladies get him outside, huh? He’ll just be in the way in here.” she said.

“What do they need our help for?” Bobby groused. “They handled him just fine so far.”

“And I'm sure they're quite out of breath from it, so go make yourselves useful.”

Bobby and Rufus grumbled about it, but heaved John's body out of the door, and threw him off the porch.

Kate winced when she saw it. “Now I almost feel bad for him.”

Mary raised an eyebrow at her.

“I said almost.”

Mary smiled, and put a hand on Kate's shoulder. “Do you know if we got houses around here?”

“Oh, yes. Mine isn't far, just behind the forest. Jack showed it to me before he brought me here.” One of Kate's hands came to rest on top of Mary's. “Would you like to see it?”

“I would love to,” Mary said, and was surprised at how soft her own voice sounded.

“Then come.” Kate took her hand and pulled her outside, past John's still unmoving form, and towards a patch of woods which Mary hadn't noticed before.

There were fairy lights hung between the trees, and mushrooms littered the floor that looked like little houses. Mary wouldn't have been surprised to see a Smurf popping out of one of them, or a fairy flying by among the trees.

“I love my house here. It's everything I've ever dreamed of,” Kate told her as she led her through the forest, still holding her hand. “I suppose it's kind of childish, but... it looks magical, there are nooks and crannies everywhere, and it even has a little tower in one spot. Oh, and there's a conservatory. Perfect for sitting in it on a nice day, which seems to be most days here. Or even on a rainy day, really, since it's always warm enough in there. You know, I can imagine…”

Kate broke off, a light dusting of red on her face.

It was utterly adorable.

“You can imagine what?” Mary prompted.

“I can imagine, uh… sitting there naked. Could be very freeing, being without restraints, you know.”

Mary squeezed her hand. “Maybe we could do that together some time.”

“Yeah?” Kate asked, turning towards her, and squeezing her hand back.

“Yeah.” They had stopped walking now, and Mary leaned in a little so their breaths mingled. “I'd love being unrestrained with you.”

Kate's eyes flicked down to Mary's lips, then back up to her eyes. “I have to warn you, though.”

“Hm?” Mary made, barely able to keep her hands – or mouth – to herself.

Kate leaned in further, so she was whispering against Mary's ear: “I bite.”

Mary shivered, and grabbed one of Kate's shoulders, as if holding on for dear life.

Being unrestrained inside a conservatory sounded like a lot of fun.

But then, the ground out in the forest also looked rather soft and inviting.

#Hi hello this one is finally edited #Millibell #<- I stand by that ship name #Quick writing

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derelictdumbass · 2 months

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𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

Rules: search for the given words in your WIP(s). If you don't have a word, you can use a variation on it or a word with a similar meaning. Then choose new words for the people you tag to look for in their WIP(s).

Found this tag game while randomly scrolling through some tags and I think I've done it once before on my other blog and I felt like doing it again so! I'm gonna tag some people but if you see this and wanna do it go ahead and please tag me because I wanna see!!

My Words: home, rough, fall, ache, drawl

❝🇭🇴🇲🇪.❝

"God I guess, I don't know. Everytime I think about it I get a headache. I feel like I'm losing my mind and I don't know what to do." He laughs, a sound broken and twisted by the fear entangled in its crescendos. Castiel could only hold him tighter, support him as the barrier in his mind no doubt throbbed and ached from the slow seeping out of reality.

"You're not losing your mind, but perhaps you're tired, would you like me to walk you home?" Castiel offers and Nadine doesn't hesitate. He nods and follows Castiel's gentle, guiding hands as they stand. Luckily the library was almost the same distance from Nadine's apartment as the college campus, maybe a ploy by the universe to make everything convenient and enjoyable for him. Castiel stopped by the front door of the apartment building and Nadine paused as well, hovering and not making any moves to go inside.

"Do you…" He trails off, struggling with his words and Castiel waits patiently. "Do you want to come hang out, I don't wanna be alone." He admits, his gaze glued to the concrete walkway.

— "Beautiful Things", ship: Feathers and Flannels

warning(s): canon-typical violence, semi-fatal wound, blood

❝🇷🇴🇺🇬🇭.❝

"C'mon baby boy, keep your eyes open, Cas is comin', he's gonna fix you right up so stay awake sweetheart, c'mon." Bobby's voice wavered, tears building up as Nadine was mostly unresponsive to his encouragement. A cough spread even more blood on his face and Bobby wiped it away with no hesitation, his own hands coated with Nadine's blood and shaking ever so slightly.

Sam bowed his head, putting as much pressure on his stomach as he could, his own hands shaking as he tried to stop the small hiccups of a cry from escaping. In his mind he begged Castiel for help, begging for him to hurry and stop this nightmare from reaching a climax none of them wanted to even consider.

"Cas for fucks sake, please—we need you." Dean's angry roar melting into a rough cry was hard to hear, it wasn't often he broke composure like that—not around Sam anyway.

— "Scattered", ship: Feathers and Flannels

❝🇫🇦🇱🇱.❝

Murphy watches Dean's back as they make their way down an alley way, keeping close as instructed; perhaps closer than necessary. Dean wasn't complaining, at least he didn't have to wonder if he was falling behind. Dean holds his hand up as they get to the opening, leaning forward and checking left and right before motioning for Murphy to follow him out.

They walk onto the street and Murphy readjusts the duffel bag on his shoulder, only Dean could get away with making him a pack mule. At least he had a nice view, Dean's muscles flexed in the sun as he kept his gun aimed ahead of him. He was less than impressed about having to walk around half naked but after Murphy assured him there was not one spare shirt in that doctors office he had little choice until they rejoined the group.

Turning a corner Dean comes to a halt and reaches behind him to signal for Murphy to stop. Ducking behind a van the two watch the road as a truck slowly drove towards them.

— "Doctor's Orders", ship: Alvinne

warning(s): heavy painkillers, needle mention, bullet wound, intoxicated/under the influence behaviour

❝🇦🇨🇭🇪.❝

He kicked off his boots, pulled off the beloathed, dirty and very-much-not-his socks—nearly falling as he did so. His shoulder fell into the wooden frame and his spine shifted in a way that spiked a dull ache through his body. He grunted and caught himself, shaking his head and groaning in frustration. Everything hurt and was numb all at once and he hated it. No amount of slapping his cheeks was making him feel any more alert.

"What did they give you pup?" An amused huff comes from somewhere in the house, disembodied and floating through Dean's ears like an old melody.

"Big fuckin' needle." He slurred, attempting to pat his lower back where Grace had stabbed a needle into him, right next to the throbbing bullet wound. His hand slapped around like a baby seal before he gave up and returned it to the doorframe, pulling himself into the hallway and turning himself towards the stairs. Funny, he didn't remember having a spiral staircase. Were they always red? Dean closed his eyes, feeling a strain behing them and leading himself towards the newly spiral staircase with his hands.

— "SMFYaM CH9", ship: Only Us

warning(s): canon-typical behaviour, unhealthy relationships

❝🇩🇷🇦🇼🇱.❝

"He seems a bit too sweet for you doesn't he? Kind of like a puppy dog," Heather hums thoughtfully, picking up a photo and turning the frame in her hand to inspect it. John itched to snatch it away from her but he kept himself composed, walking just a ways behind her and keeping his hands tucked under his crossed arms.

"Do you have a point?" John drawls, trying to sound uninterested as she puts the picture frame back in its place on the mantle. She chuckles and it's annoying how smug she sounds without even saying anything, even the way she slides her hand over the mantle as she takes a few graceful strides away from him is condescending.

"My point is you're a cat person playing in the wrong yard, it doesn't quite add up," she muses, eyes locking onto his as she lets her hand drop back to her side; she smiles all too knowingly and John feels his jaw tighten.

— "Tug o' War", ship: I'll Huff and I'll Puff

Your Words: anchor, intertwined, twist, lost, flicker

no pressure tags: @space-sweetheart @resonant-silver @one-winged-dreams @jackals-ships @singingdeepinme and any writer who has some WIPs they'd like to do this with! It doesn't have to be multiple WIPs either btw it can all be from one WIP! ♡

#misc: tag game #misc: wip game #nadine's wips #ship: Feathers and Flannels #ship: Alvinne #ship: I'll Huff and I'll Puff #ship: Only Us #Far Cry Tag #Supernatural Tag #Z Nation Tag

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didsomeonesaybuffet · 1 year

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It isn’t often Dean gets to enjoy the quiet, so for now he relishes it. Feeling a warm spring breeze gracing the back of his neck and watching the cherry blossom petals dancing lazily to the sun drenched grass, which is still slick and glistening with morning dew – emerald green against the first hints of blue in the flowers that are just beginning to consider making their debut appearance for the year.

He looks up from the book he’s been pouring over – some old mushy romance novel he picked up from a yard sale a few towns back. He told Sam it was a sort of action thing; he told Cas the truth.

He lifts his face to the sun and lets the light just linger there, kissing each and every freckle as it warms him right to his core.

The Angel shifts beside him and a soft smile touches his lips. Slowly, he turns to face Cas, who is staring intently at the daisy between his index finger and thumb. Dean’s smile deepens as the warmth returns to his heart, this time without any involvement from the sun.

He fidgets, his arm brushing against Cas’, which seems to break whatever spell the daisy has on Cas, who looks at Dean with those soft blue eyes. At first he seems startled, as though he’d been as far from reality as anyone could be, but gazing into those green eyes that seem to have picked up some of the sun’s golden hues, he softens and grins.

‘Whatcha thinkin’ about, sunshine?’ Dean murmurs through his smile, all deep and honey-toned. Cas looks down at the flower in his fingers and then holds it up in front of Dean.

‘Just about the intricacy of this flower. Look at how perfect it is –‘ he passes the daisy to Dean, who holds it close to his face and considers it. ‘You see how the petals overlap? How the middle is such a bright yellow but none of the pollen stains the petals. And the very edges of the petals are pink – I just find them fascinating.’ He looks up at Dean, then, and almost forgets about the daisy as he takes in the soft way Dean considers the flower, the way the sunlight picks out each eyelash and the soft curve of Dean’s lips. Then Dean looks up at him and they share one of those smiles that makes Sam roll his eyes when he catches them.

Dean leans over and kisses Cas’ cheek before resting his head on the angel’s shoulder. He sighs deeply when Cas leans into him, inhaling the light scent of rose shampoo he’s always loved in Dean’s hair, before kissing the top of his head and relaxing into their usual relaxing-on-the-hood-of-the-car posture, which he’s sure he’d be happy to stay in forever, should the need arise.

In the back seat of the Impala, Sam looks up from the recipe book he picked up at that same yard sale (the cookies don’t sound too healthy, but they do sound good) to see why the sunlight was suddenly extinguished. He grins to himself, seeing his brother nestled into the Angel’s neck, Cas’ arm around Dean’s shoulder and their quiet mumbling carried into the car by the breeze.

‘Would you too get a room?’ He chides, holding back his laughter.

‘Shut it, bitch’ is all he gets back, but he can hear Cas’ affectionate eye roll and the smile in Dean’s voice.

Dean lifts his head from the Angel’s shoulder and rests his hand on top of Cas’, allowing their fingers to interlock a little and enjoying the way the sunlight glints off of the ring on the third finger on his left hand. ‘We should head off if we wanna make it for lunch – next town’s a couple hours away.’

Cas stands and pulls Dean with him, luring him into a tender kiss. Still smiling, he lets Dean go and walks back to the passenger door. Dean takes a moment to open his book, where he places the daisy that Cas gave him, taking one last wistful look at it before closing the pages and giving the book a gentle squeeze, hoping it would dry out nicely, just like all the others.

#if I’m honest the wedding ring part feels clunky to me #anyway back in the spring I was walking to work and there was blossom falling off of the trees #and I was listening to some Radio Company song of other #so that became a silly littl Dean being soft moment #and then it turned into this #soooo yeah #Destiel fluff #this isn’t the idea I was talking about earlier btw #this just happened

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2plottwist · 1 month

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Fate - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean x Female!OC (Skyla)

Characters: Skyla, Castiel, Winchester Brothers

Warnings: Injury, blood

Author: Kenna:)

Word Count: 3.2k

Series Masterlist

My mind whirs with the information Castiel is saying, his voice sounding like he’s explaining the plot of a children’s book. “Trinity,” I state plainly, eyebrows raised. A static feeling raking across my body.

“Yes, a rare crossbreed of demon and human genes with angel essence,” his tone flat.

My chest rises and falls with my quickened heartbeat. Sam props his hands on the back of the couch I’m sitting on, Dean leaning against the farthest wall.

“This crap just keeps getting worse,” Dean mumbles, crossing his arms.

I look over my shoulder. The audacity of this man to have some shit to say when my life is currently being flipped upside down.

Sam’s eyes follow mine, his eyes shooting darts at Dean’s remark. “What?” Dean shrugs. “You can’t tell me this doesn’t sound convenient. The damn apocalypse is upon us, now we’re wrapped up in another power struggle between heaven and hell.”

I mean, he’s not wrong. Add it to the list of shit.

I look at Cas again, “Am I the only one?”

“No. There’s another boy and two elderly people. They’re almost dead.”

“Who’s this other boy?” Dean lifts himself off the wall, walking closer to the couch, “Why can’t Crowley go after him?”

Cas doesn’t take his eyes off mine, “Because he disappeared off the face of the Earth. No one has seen or felt of him since.”

Shit.

I drop my head into my hands. Processing this information is too much. I can’t handle it. The anniversary. Crowley. The apocalypse.

Sam sighs, laying a hand on my shoulder, “Skyla.”

I jumped off the couch at his touch. I shake my head, grabbing the keys to Luke’s old pickup. I slam the door on my way out of the house, leaving the boys standing in the living room.

I need to get out.

My feet move to the vehicle parked behind the old wooden shed. I yank open the rusted blue door and shove the keys into the ignition. The engine hasn’t been turned over since that night, but I had hope, hope that it would turn on and I could drive away from this mess.

It didn’t. My hope dissipated in front of my eyes just as my entire life did. Screams erupt from my mouth, vibrating my teeth. I slam my hands into the steering wheel over and over again. The anger, frustration, and sadness needing an outlet. My bones screaming from the impact.

I push open the door, nearly swinging it off its hinges, and slam it again. The night air does nothing to soothe the heat radiating off my face. I scream into the night, cussing at the moon and stars.

Why me? Is my life just one big joke to God and the Universe? When will it end?

The tell-tale sign of an angel prickles my senses. The sound of feathers and a light feeling of peace and hope trail over my head. My eyes land on the trench coated angel. His face blurred by the tears spilling over my eyes.

“Why?” I whisper. Please give me an answer.

“I don’t know,” he deadpans again.

A garbled laugh escapes my lips. I wrap my arms around my torso, feeling like my insides would break through the skin and spill onto the dirt. “Of course,” I rasp, “You don’t know.”

“There is a prophecy,”

Another laugh spills from my mouth. Prophecy.

He sighs, “In Earth's final days, when the sun and moon share the sky, the world shall tremble as the emergence of the Trinities. The cosmos will hold its breath, awaiting the fall of heaven or hell, for the reckoning of one shall be bathed in a violet light that consumes all.

Divine wrath will return to the Earth, surging in waves of unstoppable power, reshaping the fate of all creation. So it is foretold, so it shall be.”

Fear reared its ugly head. So it is foretold, so it shall be.

Palpable silence fills the night air. My body quivers at the angel’s words - the prophecy. Tears continue to stream down my face, terror washes over me as the fate of my life rests in the balance of good and evil.

“Why me?” I whimper, asking for answers I know deep down he can’t give me.

“I cannot answer that,” he states.

“Because you don’t know,” I whisper, “No one knows.”

Reshaping the fate of all creation.

I can barely see past the swelling of my eyes. The tears finally stopped, but the pain and panting breaths never ceased. I stomp up the walkway to Bobby’s front door. I throw it open, hoping to release some of the anger and fear crashing through my body.

I walk into the dining room to see the Winchesters, heads in hands, waiting for my return.

“Give me a case,” I cut into the silence of the house.

Their heads snap up, worry draining the color from both pairs of eyes. Eyebrows furrow, and Sam stands up. “Sky-”

I interrupt him again, “Give. Me. A. Case.” I say each word curtly.

“Colorado,” Dean finally states rubbing his eyes, “Group of demons took over a town. Rufus called for help,”

I sigh in relief, “Let’s go,”

I don’t pack a bag, I don’t wait for the boys to follow. I simply grab the angel blade laying on the living room side table and stomp out of the house.

I follow the quiet glow of the Impala. A sense of comfort washes over my body as my body slides over the tan, leather interior of the car. Baby. Spending hours in this beautiful hunk of metal resulted in a small divot the side of my body in the backseat, a small pouch of my stuff shoved into the backside pocket of the driver seat, and a bag of FBI clothes on the floorboard. The smell of leather and fast food wafts under my nose, causing my eyes to close and my muscles to relax into the cushion.

I hear two pairs of footsteps and the creaking of car doors. The car rocks from the slamming of the Impala’s doors and the engine ignites. Beautiful sounds. Calming sounds.

—--

River Pass, Colorado was a picturesque mountain town. Small shops, gas stations, and log cabins perfectly placed along the main road the boys and I ended our hike on. With the bridge in shambles, there was no way to drive into town, not like we would have anywhere to park with all the abandoned cars and rubble coating the streets.

The silence is palpable, but broken by the light tune of Spirit in the Sky being played from a cherry red mustang parked in front of a gas station. There had been no signal on our phones since the previous town.

A feeling of watchful eyes tickled the back of my neck. My eyes snap over the buildings, cars, and puddles of blood, finding each of the hiding places I would use.

The cock of a gun catches my attention and drops my stomach. “Hello boys.”

A woman’s voice, one full of wisdom and sass from years of working the local hunter roadhouse. “Ellen?” Sam pipes up.

Splashes of liquid could be heard from behind my ears. “We’re us.” Dean states, wiping the holy water out of his eyes.

The shaky voice arises again, “Real glad to see you boys,”

Hugs are exchanged before I’m able to break the boys’ shoulders apart to reveal my presence to Ellen.

“Skyla,” she whispers, as if a wave of relief finally made its way through her body.

Tears brim my eyes and I fight them back, “Ellen.”

She squeezes me, nearly dislocating my shoulders with the strength of her hug. Years spent in the Roadhouse brought Ellen, Jo, and I together. Bobby sent me to the roadhouse for information pick up, but I ended up staying for observation and networking. I relied on the stories passed from hunter to hunter over shots of whiskey and stale beer. I learned more than I ever could from the Roadhouse.

Ellen breaks the hug, cupping both my cheeks to look into my eyes. Her hazel ones swimming with restraint to scold me for not coming to visit her, “Thank you, God,” she finally sighs, but her face contorts to frustration.

Slapping a hand across Dean’s face, her words pour out of lips, “The can of whoop ass I ought to open on you.”

Dean recoils, placing a hand on the red spot sprouting on his cheek. Knowing that he has no soapbox to stand on, Dean asks, “So, what’s going on, Ellen?”

She explains in a low voice about how the whole town has turned into demons. How there is a small group of survivors hiding out in the town, but unable to escape due to the multiple ruined attempts by demons and death.

Ellen leads us back to their dugout. My shoulders drop when I see a group of pale faced, terrified people. They’re hope for escape is tangible, yet too out of reach, even for them.

Introducing us as the hunters here to save the day, Ellen and their group provide a recap of all that has happened leading up to the moment our boots touched the church’s basement floor. Jo has been taken, so has Rufus. The crumbled bridge and nearly vanquished town was described right out of the book of Revelations. And the worst part, they have run out of guns and ammo.

Shit.

I’m snapped back into reality when Dean suggests going to the sporting-goods store we saw on the way in to get more supplies. My eyes scan over the man in a military uniform, a businessman, and a priest. My breath hitches in my throat when the teary eyes of a pregnant mother come into focus.

I nod at Dean’s statement and turn towards the basement door again. A hand slaps on my shoulder, whipping my body back around to the room, “Whoa, hold on, hot shot,” Dean’s voice rakes past my ears, “Why don’t I just go?”

A small, unintentional smile appears on my lips, “Um, no.”

“Someone has to stay here and begin Shotgun 101,”

“Sam can,”

“Or Ellen,” Sam pipes up from behind Dean, “I’m coming, too.”

Dean scoffs, “Absolutely not. Around demons? Hell no.”

Memories of Sam’s demon blood exploits cross my mind. No way is he going to go out there amongst the demons. I agree with Dean, Hell no.

“Same goes for you,” Dean points a finger at me, “Around demons? Hell no.” Now, that, I don’t agree with.

Sam and I share a look of denial for our combined issues and push past the door to the basement, leaving Dean in his tracks.

The sports goods store was two blocks away from the church. Easy to maneuver and get to despite the overbearing threat of hordes of demons. As the three of us split up, Sam and I took a gas station to find salt, and Dean took the sports goods store to fill the duffle bag.

As we rifled through the products on the shelves, the store chime jingles. My eyes snap to Sam’s, wide and unnerved. I pull my angel blade while Sam pulls his newfound weapon. The boys call it “Ruby’s Knife” but for some reason, I swear I’ve seen it in the past.

Our eyes dart to the security mirror, watching the lingering black eyes move through the store. Suddenly, the men pounce from behind the shelves, landing punches on both Sam and I. My arms ache at the movement of the demon pinning my wrists under his boots. Sam's exorcism dances through the air distracting the demon, allowing me time to break free and push my blade through his chest. His eyes glow then dim as his legs give out and drops to the floor.

Sam’s demon falls to the ground in a heap of blood. Sam’s eyes look to my, checking for life. Once confirmed, they move to the bodies on the ground, the blood leaking out.

“Sam…”

His chest moves up and down quickly. I could practically hear his heart beat, the restraint rolling through his bones. “Hey, Sam.” I whisper.

His eyes snap up, apologetic. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Before we could fill our bag up, another chime sounds through the store, pulling Sam and I’s attention to another potential enemy. “Sammy? Sky?” It’s just Dean.

—--

The rest of the day was spent training, loading, and the sounds of shotguns. Remembering my time learning the ropes of a hunter’s life, my hands and eyes and words moved over the group of people like I’d been practicing for years. My blood moved through my body in thrums and my hands worked quickly to stuff shells with salt, guns with ammo, and corrections to those needing help.

“Like this, Skyla,” I could hear Bobby’s words float through the walls and into my ears, “Open the chamber, place the bullet in, then,” click.

“Close.” The words fall from my mouth and to the businessman sitting at the table. He looks up at me with a sheepish grin and nods his thanks.

I wipe my hands on my jeans, when Ellen approaches me. She sets a hand on my shoulder, eyes pleading, “I’m going to find my daughter and Rufus.”

My eyes widen at her stupidity. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

Her eyes are unchanging, “I can’t sit on my ass here and just teach these poor people to shoot a salt gun,” she drops her hand and adjusts her bag, “I told Sam and Dean if I’m not back then to go along with the plan without me.”

I bounce between her eyes, searching for a joke or a test, but there was none, “I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely n-”

“Ellen,” I whisper, “Don’t tell me no this time. Jo and Rufus are my family, too. I’m coming.” I turn to grab one of the loaded weapons on the table.

“You have to tell Sam and Dean,”

“Nope,” I say, taking her shoulder and quickly leading her out the closest exit from the basement.

On our way out, I looked for the Winchesters again, but neither could be found. Good. It’s an easy getaway.

Ellen and I climb the stairs and open the church doors, but my gaze goes dark. A sharp pain stings the back of my head, and my body goes limp.

—--

The pounding in my head quickens as I come to my senses. My eyes open, burning with the bright light shining through busted blinds on the window. I try to stand, but find my wrists and ankles tied to a rickety wooden chair.

I whip my head up, moving hair out of my face, to see the businessman from the church basement leaning against the door to the room. He’s rubbing a hand across his chin, a sly smile weaving across his features. A large golden ring sits on his middle finger, a bright red ruby sitting in the middle.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, trying to figure out how exactly he made it out of the basement and why he has me tied up.

“You have,” his ringed hand waves toward my face, “A purple aura.”

His smile never waivers and he returns to rubbing his chin, “W-what are you doing?” I ask, yanking my wrists against my restraints.

“Why, my favorite activity.” He moves forward, bringing his nose inches from mine, “What I was created to do.”

“What you were created to do?” I repeat his words, trying to sort through the clues.

“It’s the apocalypse, babe.” He states, standing up straight again, “And out came another horse, bright red. Its rider was permitted to take peace from the earth, so that people should slay one another, and he was given a great sword.”

Revelations. Apocalypse. War.

“The Horsemen.” I whisper.

He chuckles at my realization, “You’re a smart girl. And a very powerful one, too.”

I pull at my restraints again, gritting my teeth against the pain the ropes cause my wrists. “You’re putting these poor people against each other. Making them think they’re demons.”

“Isn’t it a wonderful show?” he laughs, “Watch this,” he twirls the ring around his finger.

Shattering glass and clamoring is heard outside the door. “Here they come,” War whispers, then slips out the door, leaving me waiting for someone to find me.

I pull and yank on the knots leaving my hands defenseless. I can see my angel blade laying on the mantle of the fireplace across the room. Fear crawls up my throat.

“Sam? Skyla?” a booming voice cries through the building.

“Dean!” I scream, not thinking about how it could be a trick or a ruse, “In here!”

I continue to painfully yank my hands free once the door opens, revealing a black eyed Dean. “You son of a bitch!” I scream, flailing my feet towards the demon inhabiting my best friend’s body. “Get out of him!”

“Sky,” Dean’s voice floats to my ears, “Sky, not a demon. It’s-”

Realization hits me again, “War.”

His smile is radiating, “Bingo.” Pride washes over his eyes.

We found Sam tied in the next room over. He was able to pick up on the same thing that was plaguing River Pass.

—

War’s ring sits on the hood of the Impala. “So, pit stop on Mount Doom?” Dean jokes, crossing his arms.

Sam scoffs and lets out a long sigh, “We need to talk.”

“Sam - “ I start, knowing that he’s going to mention our run in with the demons in the gas station earlier that day.

"No, listen. This is important. I know you don't trust me. Just... Now I realize something. I don't trust myself either." Sam explains, " From the minute I saw that blood, only though in my head.."

His eyes roam across Dean’s face, "And I tell myself, It's for the right reasons, my intentions are good, and it- it feels true, you know? But I think underneath, I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am. Thing is, the problem isn't the demon blood- not really. I mean, what I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or anything. The problem's me. How far I'll go. There's something in me that scares the hell out of me, Dean. And the last couple of days, I caught another glimpse."

“So, what are you saying?” Dean’s voice breaks across the silence.

“I’m in no shape to hunt. I need to step back.”

“Sam, please.” I beg, we can’t split up. My hands go numb, thinking about Sam out in the world, apocalypse nigh.

Ringing takes over my hearing. My senses blur as my heart and mind races with the worries and anxieties of Sam leaving me. I’ve never had this happen before, but since the moment I found out I was a “powerful supernatural being,” I don’t think I could function by myself.

A warm feeling brings my sense back to reality. Sam’s arms wrap around my shoulder and pat my back. Without a second thought, my arms race to his torso, squeezing. Maybe if I squeeze him hard enough, he’ll stay.

He chuckles at my action, but brings his hands to my shoulders, pushing me back to look at my face. Worry written across my face, I try to open my mouth to speak.

Sam’s warm smile meets my eyes. “Be careful.”

He turns his back and grabs his bags out of the Impala. I finally come up with the words I need to say to him, but he’s too far gone down the road.

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean x oc #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #winchester brothers #spn

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thesugarclubs-blog · 2 years

Text

The Volunteer - Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: none, pure nervous, post-CA: CW Bucky fluff

word count: 7.2k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1284102965-the-volunteer-maude

Masterlist

Bucky leaned against his motorcycle, studying the way his titanium fingers glinted under the sun rays that peeked through doing little to warm up the crisp November morning.

He contemplated whether he should keep his hands gloved today or not. Despite the team’s many encouraging words, he worried that the kids would be frightened by his arm and that’s the last thing he wanted. He had been looking forward to doing this since Pepper had announced their involvement.

It’s nice to think of doing something that isn’t just fighting. To make an impact on someone else’s life. A positive one. He wanted to add more of those now that he was free, make up for everything he had done or at least try to.

The sound of shoes crunching gravel interrupted his thoughts and when he looked up Sam shook his head as he made his way toward him.

“I thought we said no gloves.”

“I thought you said you’d beat me here because ‘of course, I can fly faster than that bike of yours’” He mocked.

He narrowed his eyes at Bucky and snatched his gloves from his right hand.

“Man shut up, I ran into the spider kid on the way and he kept talking to me.”

Bucky bit back a smirk and made a mental note to thank Peter later for distracting Sam so he’d get here first. The kid’s ok sometimes.

“Hey robocop, birdman. Let’s go, they’re waiting for us.” Tony called to them from where he was waiting with the rest of the team and they made their way over to the entrance.

Once inside, Bucky scanned the room. He took in all of his surroundings, studied all points of entry just in case. Force of habit. He let his shoulders relax and smiled fondly when he saw a group of kids running around playing tag.

“Here they are!” He shifted his eyes to Pepper’s voice at her declaration and suddenly he felt as if the air had been punched out of his lungs.

A woman with long dark waves falling over her shoulders stood beside her and looked back at them. Her big chestnut eyes shimmered under the white lights of the auditorium as she smiled in greeting. Bucky could feel his heart thump against his chest and he swallowed trying to collect his bearings. She was absolutely breathtaking.

“Everyone, this is Maude.”

She gave them a soft wave, the bracelets on her arm tinkling with the movement as she said hello. The rest of the group returned the sentiment, but Bucky couldn't find the words. He just stood there, lips slightly parted, practically tasting the sweetness of her perfume as she moved to shake Steve's hand. Her eyes flitted to his and he earned another soft smile that melted him to the floor.

A sharp pinch to his side made Bucky yelp, looking down to meet the pointed stare of Natasha. What the hell are you doing? was written all over her face.

Turning back, Maude was still studying him, her rosy lips turned at the corners.

"Hi," Bucky breathed, ignoring Sam's snort of amusement at his speechless state.

Her eyes the color of molten chocolate fixed on his as if she was trying to figure out what he was thinking.

"Hi." Her voice sounded like an enchanting melody in his ears.

“Maude, you wanna show this rowdy bunch what they’ll be doing?”

The moment was gone with Tony’s question and Bucky’s shoulders slumped as Maude turned her attention elsewhere, not without shooting him a small smile first.

“We’re here all afternoon, pal,” Steve murmured, clapping Bucky on the shoulder before he joined the others. The brawny super-soldier kicked himself, momentarily embarrassed that he was being so obvious. But it had been a while… well, decades, since someone had knocked the breath from his lungs with a smile like that.

Maude looked so comfortable, with her big, beaming smile as she gently guided the kids - and Tony, who was already trying to control the whole damn thing much to Steve's chagrin and eye-rolling. Bucky wished that he could just say something, anything cool, charming, or even funny. He used to be sort of funny.

"Sergeant Barnes?" Maude's voice rang through the air like a bell.

His eyes snapped up and went wide. She was talking to him? She knew his name? She smiled, biting her lip. There was an open seat next to hers at the table, right beside a little girl dressed in a soft purple sweater sitting in front of a pumpkin that was bigger than she was.

"Y-- yeah," he stammered. "That's-- that's me. I'm Sergeant-- yep."

He cut himself off before he could sound like any more of an idiot. Maude didn't bat an eyelash as Steve and Sam grinned at him. Instead, she just gestured softly to the seat beside her.

"Come and sit."

"Okay," Bucky squeaked, his cheeks flaming. He sat down beside the little girl who gazed up at him like he was a human skyscraper. Bucky smiled at her and Maude giggled, causing him to blush. He listened intently as she explained what they were going to be doing.

Help the kid to carve a pumpkin. Right. He could do that. He nodded along as Maude finished her explanation, getting distracted by the way the fall sunlight shone through the waves of her dark hair.

“So do you think you can handle it, Sergeant?” She asked sweetly, handing him the pumpkin carving tools.

“I…umm…y-yeah. Yeah!” he stammered as she laid her hand on his shoulder with a tinkling chuckle.

He watched as she turned and moved away towards another child, leaning down to speak to them, and let out a sigh. Bucky plastered a smile on his face that he hoped wasn’t too intimidating and looked over at the girl sat next to him, who was eyeing him suspiciously.

“You’d better not mess this up Mister,” she lisped.

Bucky shook his head once, "I won't" He sounded way more defensive and childish than he intended but the little girl just giggled and sat up on her knees to get a better view of her pumpkin.

He hesitated a moment, before grasping the small carving knife in his metal fingers, bringing it to the top of the pumpkin and carving out a circle around the stem. When he was done, his eyes glanced over at the little girl who was staring at his hand in amazement.

"Are you a robot?" She asked, curiously.

Bucky glanced at his hand too, staring at the metal for a beat too long. He cleared his suddenly dry throat and looked back at the little girl.

“Sorry, not a robot. Just a guy with a metal arm.”

She nodded as if that made perfect sense and asked, “Can I touch it?”

His breath hitched in his chest. He felt the panic rising in his throat- bubbling up and up, threatening to spill over, as he contemplated the weight of letting this innocent little girl touch the piece of metal that had caused so much hurt, so much pain-

“It’s okay if you say no,” the little girl offered.

Bucky’s heart melted in his chest. She was so kind and he was trying to believe that he deserved it. In the next split second, he reckoned with decades of guilt and violence and decided to try and be vulnerable. What’s the worst that could happen?

“It’s okay,” he managed to say, his voice gentle. “you can. Thanks for asking.” He offered a small smile, along with his outstretched left palm.

Her beaming smile took him by surprise. She immediately reached for his hand, her palm so small in comparison to his own.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest as she ran her fingers over his shiny hand, he tried to take a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down.

Clear awe was written on the little girl's face as she watched the plates intricately shift as Bucky turned his palm around for her.

"It's so cool!" She exclaimed, squeezing his thumb between her hands before letting go and turning back to her pumpkin.

"Thank you for letting me touch it," she told him sweetly, a cute blush on her chubby cheeks.

Bucky cleared his throat, sticky with worry and what he was learning was anxiety. His therapist had been helping him manage it among other things but it seemed to creep up on him when he least expected it. "You wanna see a trick?" He asked her.

Her eyes lit up with interest, wonder and curiosity dancing across her innocent features as she nodded. Bucky looked around, taking into account his audience, a few of the little boys across the table whose arms and shirts were covered in pumpkin guts and seeds had started to stare.

Bucky pulled back the cuff of his jacket to expose the forearm of his metal extension, "watch close," he whispered, leaning into her enthusiasm, letting himself feel good about doing something for the first time in a long time. That was the whole point of volunteering after all. He flexed his fingers slowly, one at a time, causing the metal to shift in a more dramatic fashion than when she had first touched him. They clicked back into place like a tiny set of waves over the arm. The shiny metal caught the light of the room and the little girl gasped with excitement.

"That was cool I guess," she said, sitting up straight and pretending not to be impressed.

A smile played on his lips, his nerves fading into a background hum.

Bucky watched her push back the sleeves of her sweater, readying herself to gut the pumpkin. He mimicked her movements and pulled the top off gesturing for her to go first.

They took turns fishing out the guts and seeds and each time it was her turn she'd throw them to his side, giggling as he scrunched his nose up feigning disgust. Just as they were finishing up, Maude's voice sounded from behind them.

"How are you guys doing over here?"

Bucky looked up and his heart fluttered when his eyes met hers. He smiled at her but furrowed his brows a bit when she tilted her head, biting the corner of her lip. Time all but stopped when he saw her hand making its way to his face.

Goosebumps erupted all over Bucky's skin and he fought the urge to close his eyes as her fingers skimmed his cheekbone, capturing a strand of dark hair. She laced it around his ear, eyes shining in the afternoon light and Bucky swore everything else around them disappeared.

"Sorry, it looked like it was in the way. I’d hate for you to get pumpkin in your hair."

"Are you done now? I wanna cut the eyes out," The little, slightly angry voice beside Bucky snapped him from his reverie as Maude giggled.

"Sorry, little one. Be right with ya."

He produced a half-smile to the little girl as his eyes travelled over Maude one more time, marvelling over her effortless beauty. She had something so magnetic about her that it proved difficult for him to not crave her presence.

Bucky and his new friend spent the next thirty minutes carving away at the pumpkin, her small hand gripping his as he helped with the tougher parts.

He perked up when he heard Maude clap, addressing the room.

“Okay, everyone! Bring your finished pumpkins up to the table here, we’ll play some fun games with the Avengers before judging your creations!” “You want some help carrying this over?” Bucky asked. The little girl nodded, taking one side of their pumpkin as they made their way over and placed it on the table. “Amazing carving skills, sweetheart.” Maude beamed as she appeared next to them. “Thanks,” Bucky replied without thinking. Beside him, his tiny partner in crime tugged at his sleeve. “I think she was talking to me,” she whispered, giggling as Bucky blushed.

Maude giggled and put her hand on Bucky's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"But you did a pretty good job too, Sergeant."

Butterflies swarmed his stomach. Even though he stood 6'4" and weighed well over 200 pounds of muscle and metal, the gesture made him feel like a teenager again. The blush was creeping into the back of his neck and he felt like his mouth was made of sandpaper.

"It's Bucky," he rasped softly, his voice getting drowned in a sea of laughter as Tony made some stupid joke while Pepper rolled her eyes.

Maude leaned in closer, which forced Bucky's heart to jump into his throat. He could smell her perfume and her shampoo. He could see the little light brown flecks in her brown eyes. She dragged her tongue across her bottom lip and he nearly collapsed.

"Sorry. They're so loud, sometimes I think they're going to blow out my eardrums."

"M-- my-- my name is Bucky-- or... my friends call me Bucky." His voice was a little more commanding this time.

Maude let out a soft laugh. She didn't seem nervous at all, at least not that he could tell. Bucky just wished he still had some of that '40s charm. But that man felt so far away from who he had become.

"Well, I'm glad we became friends so fast, Bucky," she whispered, her hand still lingering on his shoulder.

“He’s my friend too!” came the small, indignant voice and a tiny hand snaked its way into his giant metal palm.

He looked down in surprise, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as his pumpkin partner pouted determinedly back up at him.

“Don’t worry Rebecca, I’m sure Bucky can be friends with us both, right?” Maude said, her eyes crinkling with a smile.

A soft smile appeared on Bucky's face as he nodded his head, "Y-yeah! Of course, I can"

Maude giggled and shot Bucky a wink as she moved on to look at everyone else's pumpkins. Her laugh was like music to his ears and as he got lost in the sound of her voice as she spoke to the other kids, a small dramatic throat clear came from beside him.

"Can you just kiss her already so we can all move on?" Rebecca demanded.

Bucky's eyes widened and a blush crept up his neck, hearing a snicker coming from behind him on behalf of Sam and Steve. "N-no, that's not... Why don't you go play with the other kids? I-I'll catch up" He tried to smile at her, as she rolled her eyes and took off to join a group of kids.

"Man, you got it bad" Sam smirked, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Lay off him. Sam!" Steve interjected, "You should go talk to her though... I've seen the way she's been looking at you, I think she likes you too"

Bucky gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes flickered over to Maude. Her head was thrown back, a gorgeous laugh filled the room as a little boy tried to give himself a mustache with pumpkin guts. He watched as she used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe the remaining strings from the little guy's face.

She radiated warmth and everything good that Bucky didn't see in himself.

"Buck?" Steve's voice cut through the thick layer of thoughts that wandered their way back in. Bucky looked back to his friend, a hard-pressed smile adorned his face. "You deserve to be happy, pal. Try to get to know her, huh?"

Bucky nodded, the nervousness returning as a heavy ball in his gut.

Sam nudged him, "Go over there and try not to be weird and stop staring at her. You don't want to freak her out before you even get a chance to ask her out."

A loud sigh came from his side as Steve shook his head, "Not helping, Sam."

Sam chuckled, nudging him again, "Come on, big guy! Take a chance." Before he and Steve left him to gather his thoughts.

Maybe it would be good for him, to make connections and feel more human rather than a programmed killing machine. He just has to believe in himself, and believe that he deserves good things as his therapist and Steve always reminded him.

With slow steps, Bucky approached her while she was kneeling on the floor trying to pick up fallen crayons while keeping the conversation with a little girl who was showing her a drawing of Thor.

He kneeled beside Maude, her sweet scent immediately filling his lungs and calming him a little.

"Do you-- do you need any help?"

Bucky hesitantly asked the brown-eyed beauty who turned to him with a glowing smile.

"Hold these," she asked and without looking down she took his metal hand into her palm and filled it with crayons.

Bucky flexed from her touch, wishing he could feel how soft her hand was. The cool metal of his arm offered no feeling and well his heart fluttered that she didn't flinch away from him or the weapon he concealed, he ached for the contact. His cheek still tingled from her fingertips making him crave her delicate touch like an addict.

"Do you like my Thor?" The kid shoved the paper two inches from Bucky's face. Studying the vibrating piece of paper he tried not to laugh at the hideous stick figure of Thor riding what appeared to be a horse.

"Nice horse," he swallowed, using his free hand to push the paper out his eyeline so he could see Maude's rosy pink lips again.

"It's a unicorn," the kid scowled, turning the drawing back so he could look at it, "Rebecca is always lying, you're not cool, you're weird and scary." The kid stuck his tongue out at Bucky and walked away from the two of them in a huff.

"Kids are mean," he mumbled, looking over at Rebecca who was proudly showing off her pumpkin to everyone.

Maude held out a bucket for him to drop the loose crayons into, "don't listen to him. You made Rebecca's day, she doesn't have anyone around to do this kind of stuff with. And look at her, I haven't seen her smile in months." Maude nudged him with her elbow. "You did that."

Bucky felt a pang in his chest at her words.

He knows what it's like not to have anyone but he can't even imagine having to go through that as a child. He felt his eyes begin to water and lowered his gaze, focusing on the bucket in her hand.

"I just helped her carve a pumpkin, it's nothin'."

Maude curved her finger under his chin, lifting it up slightly to meet his eyes.

"It's everything, Bucky. Thank you." she voiced with a soft smile before removing her finger, her touch lingering on his skin.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say to that?

His heart was hammering in his chest at her smile, at her touch - the touch he had been craving moments before, and badly wanted back again.

He swallowed as they both stood, trying to will himself to say something.

Sam had told him to take a chance, right?

"Hey, do you wanna maybe -" he stopped, sighing. She was already walking away to help some of the other kids.

Bucky closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. This used to be so easy for him. He'd see a pretty girl and the words would just flow out of him, effortlessly charming. The familiar fog of despair started rolling in the moment Maude's sunshine wasn't by his side.

"You like Miss Maude, don't ya?"

Rebecca's voice might have made him jump if he couldn't hear her tiny hummingbird heartbeat the moment she walked up. Bucky looked down at her, her owlish eyes gazing at him with intent.

"Yeah...I guess I do," he murmured softly, watching the brunette across the room.

There was the squeaking of rubber on the tile as Rebecca took off toward where Maude stood talking to the other kids.

"Shit, I mean, don't-" Bucky exclaimed, kicking himself as he watched Rebecca stand on her tiptoes.

The little girl whispered something in Maude's ear and the woman's soft eyes met his, only to widen in shock before smiling. Bucky looked down, suddenly becoming very interested in a scuff mark on the shiny floor.

Rebecca walked back with the biggest grin spreading on her tiny face like she was the fucking Chesire Cat.

"There you go, old man. I helped you." Rebecca's voice was laced with the tiniest bit of mischief.

Maude was inching closer to them and Bucky felt like his heart was about to drop out of his chest and plop right to her feet.

“She really likes hot chocolate from the drink station,” Rebecca adds, “with cream and the special sprinkles. They’re shaped like snowflakes. Hint, hint.”

The small girl attempts to wink, blinking instead and Bucky snorts as he chuckles with her. She’s adorable. A troublemaker, but anyone who knows Bucky knows he attracts troublemakers like moths to a flame.

“Looks like I’m missing out on all the fun over here.” Maude laughs softly.

“Oh, I uh…” Bucky fumbles, glancing at Rebecca for backup.

“Bucky was wondering if you would like a hot chocolate, Miss Maude.” She kicks Bucky’s shin, hard and he hops, not expecting such violence from such a small child.

“Yeah. Hot chocolate? If— um, if you wanted? With me?”

“We’re about to play a game and then the pumpkin judging,“ Bucky’s face fell at her words, he should have expected rejection, “but I would love a hot chocolate after the event.” Maude smiled, her eyes lighting up, “if you’re willing to stick around?”

His heart was pounding. Did he hear that right?

"Told ya," Rebecca whispered as she giggled, looking across the room as if something captured her attention.

Bucky followed her gaze and saw Sam and Steve waving dollar bills, but the second they spotted him, they stopped and tried to hide them miserably. Rebecca bounced toward them and swiftly collected them while Natasha stared at Bucky with her hand over her mouth. He blushed furiously as Maude chuckled.

"So, Sarge?" She asked hopefully, putting her hand on his forearm and making his heart jump. "You feel like sticking around for some games and then we can break off from these hooligans?"

"Wh-- Oh, yeah, I don't know how you deal with all these kids," he laughed awkwardly.

"Oh, I was talking about those two troublemakers," she replied as she pointed to Sam and Steve, both of whom hid their faces and looked away.

"I'm sorry about them," Bucky whispered. "Maybe we can swap babysitting tactics."

Maude let out a musical laugh, her eyes crinkling as she laughed.

"You're very funny."

“I am? I mean…thanks!”

He wanted to smack himself upside the head. With his metal hand.

“Buckyyyy,” came the cutest whine he’d ever heard. “You’re gonna be my partner in the three-legged race, right?!”

He almost said no, almost, but when he saw Steve, Sam, and Tony tying their ankles to their own mini partners in crime he grabbed Rebecca’s hand with a devious grin.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s show these punks how it’s done!”

A mischievous giggle came from the little girl who did a little hop of excitement, pulling Bucky towards the starting line and grabbing a piece of rope from Maude. He took the rope and bent down, tying his thick leg to Rebecca's small calf. The sight itself was enough for Bucky to let out a breathy chuckle.

"Good luck you two" Maude whispered, as she moved past them and continued telling everyone the rules.

As Bucky watched her moving down the lineup of people, a snapping noise came from beside him, "Hey lover boy! Eyes on me!" Her stern face in full gear. "I need your head in the game here, got it? Listen to me. I'll call out which leg. Okay?"

Bucky couldn't help but laugh and scrunch up his nose as he gave her a short salute, "Yes ma'am"

She huffed at him and settled into a little crouch that he recognized was her starting stance. He hurried into his own crouch as Maude called out “On your mark…Get set…Go!”

Instantly Rebecca was pulling on Bucky, chanting “Left, left, left right left” like the world's smallest drill sergeant.

Bucky couldn't help the burst of giggles that spilled from his lips as Rebecca's brows furrowed further, determination spread across her face as she called out to him. He could hear the sweet sound of Maude laughing from the sidelines and it took everything in him not to look over and admire the way her features glow when she smiles.

"Come'on dinosaur! We're almost there!" Rebecca taunted, elbowing his thigh. If he wasn't made of pure muscle, he probably would have flinched, but instead, another laugh fell from his chest as he continued their rhythm.

Within two hobbled steps Bucky and Rebecca crossed the finish line, tumbling through the paper streamer. Sam groaned behind him followed by Tony yelling about how being enhanced doesn't count. All that mattered to Bucky was the biggest grin he had ever seen plastered over Rebecca's face.

"I did it!" She yelled, pumping her fists into the air. He knelt down next to her, untying the string with a raised brow. Her little eyes found his, "We did it!" She smirked.

Without thinking, he picked her up, swinging her around with a chuckle, "Couldn't have done it without ya, little one."

Rebecca started to giggle as Bucky spun her around, her tiny hands grasping the collar of his jacket. He felt warmth flood his cheeks as he paraded his new best friend around the finish line, soaking in the cheers from everyone around them. His smile was wider than ever before, and there was a small scratching at the back of his throat. He felt like he almost- yeah, those were definitely tears filling his eyes.

This was nothing compared to winning a fight. This felt a million times better.

He placed Rebecca back on the ground and gently ruffled her hair. “You’re a good partner in crime,” he said with a smirk.

Rebecca scowled and flattened her hair with her hands.

“I know, old man.” She jumped back and tried to curtsy, but tripped slightly on her own little feet. She giggled again, reaching into her pocket.

“Now go get Maude some hot chocolate. I have money to spend,” she sang. She waved three, folded-up dollar bills in his face - the blood money from Sam and Steve - and took off running into a group of other kids.

"Wish me luck," he muttered to himself, a smile plastered on his face as he watched the little girl run to her friends showing off her small wad of cash.

He got up and turned, immediately finding Maude standing a little to the side, her gentle eyes already on him. He gave her a small, shy grin as he came to stop in front of her as his hands fidgeted together.

"You're very good with the kids, Sergeant," Maude whispered to him, her eyes drifted to Rebecca as her laughter echoed across the room before returning back to look up at him.

Bucky felt the blush cover his face and the tips of his ears as he swept a hand through his hair to pull it away from his face, noticing how her eyes followed the movement.

"Tha-- thank you. I don't want them to be afraid of me," he stammered, not knowing how best to express his gratitude for her delicate way of handling the kids and him.

"And, Rebecca is a sweetheart. Reminds me of my baby sister." He finished, looking back at the kid playing with her friends, fighting back tears.

"So, how 'bout that hot chocolate, Miss Maude?" Bucky gathered himself enough to throw a grin her way, offering her his flesh hand only to be surprised when she linked her hand through the metal one, squeezing it gently.

Bucky walked her to the cart, ordering the drink just the way Rebecca had instructed. Cream, and the special sprinkles, shaped like snowflakes. He handed her the cup gently and reaching for his own too late he watched the cart girl pile whipped cream atop it. He scowled, taking the cup. The temperature scalding against his palm from the thin paper cup was nothing compared to the heat that formed in his chest as he listened to the sound of an approving giggle leaving Maude's lips.

He sipped on his, letting it burn his tongue in a pitiful attempt to bring himself back to reality.

"What?" He asked, nervously as she looked up at him through her soft, thick lashes.

"You have," she giggled, pausing to set her hot chocolate down on the table. She pushed herself precariously onto her tiptoes, leaning against him for stability and brushed her hand against the corner of his scowling mouth. "Whipped cream on your face, Sergeant."

Bucky stopped breathing as her face came within inches of his, unsure what to do as she cleaned his lips with the delicate pad of her thumb. "All better," she whispered, her warm, sweet breathing rolling across his cheek as she settled back on the floor.

A collective chime of oooo's and hushed cheering came from just beyond the doors in the hall. Steve, Sam and Rebecca were hovering by the door watching them with rosy cheeks and big smiles on their faces. Rebecca was giving him two thumbs up and raising her eyebrows up and down.

"Why don't we go somewhere without an audience?" She asked, picking her cup back up and tugging on his arm.

Once they were outside, Maude linked their free arms together and looked up at him with a smile. Bucky returned it, immediately getting lost in her eyes.

He studied her for a moment. Admiring the way the orange and yellow hues of the late autumn sunset accentuated her features, how slight golden flecks shone in her deep brown eyes under this light.

"You're eyes a-" he stopped himself, taking a small breath willing his thumping heart to finish the sentence, "You are beautiful, Maude."

Maude's cheeks turned pink, a delighted smile popping up, "Oh - you are so sweet."

"I..." He laughed nervously, "Sheesh, I used to be good at all this," he scratched the back of his neck.

"But you really are beautiful - I couldn't get you outta my head all afternoon."

They came to a stop in front of a park a short distance from the community center, turning to face each other.

Maude reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face again, "You're pretty good looking yourself you know?"

Bucky's skin could have started a fire with his blush alone, a soft smile coming across his face that scrunched his nose. Maude's returning smile was blinding as they walked further down the block, the sounds of the city slightly muffled by the brick buildings around them.

"What?" she asked. "You can't tell me that there's not a line out the door waiting for a chance with someone like you."

He took a sip of his drink, using it as a shield to hide the flicker of sorrow across his face.

"Not surprisingly, not many people are interested in a century old basket case on a government watch list."

Maude hummed in acknowledgement of his self-deprecating comment. She stopped suddenly, turning his body slightly toward her. Her hand travelled down the length of his arm before tangling her fingers in his hand. Bucky's breath caught in his throat as she looked up at him, soft and glowing in the dimming autumn sunlight.

"Well, I guess that makes me the exception," she murmured, squeezing his fingers gently.

It took him a few heartbeats to even realize she was holding his left hand, warming the cool metal and leaving him even more desperate to feel her skin on his.

His heart was beating in his throat as he felt Maude inching closer to him. He could hear her fluttering heartbeat as his eyes travelled over her beautiful face under his lashes.

He knew exactly what he wanted to do next. Something he wanted to do ever since he laid eyes on her.

Closing the last inches between them, his hot breath fanning over her as he gently placed his lips onto hers. Softly, she sighed as she pressed her body closer to his.

Slowly, Bucky brought his right hand to Maude’s waist. Her cardigan was soft under his palm, grounding him as he moved his lips in a kiss so delicate he wasn’t sure it could even be classed as a kiss.

His nose brushed hers as he pulled away slightly and huffed out a gentle laugh.

“Sorry, it’s… uh, it’s been a while. I’m not sure if—“ his words died abruptly as Maude's mouth captured his again, warm and dizzying as she ran her tongue over his bottom lip.

He groaned softly. She tasted like whipped cream and chocolate that was perfectly sweet. Bucky's stomach was in knots, wondering if he was going to screw this up, but instinct seemed to take over as he tilted his head slightly to the side and she deepened the kiss.

He pulled her close, her body warm and flush against his. Bucky wanted her as close to her as possible. She smelled so good, and she was so soft. Her lips felt like silk as they massaged his. He could feel her hand slide along his left shoulder, up his neck and into his hair, playing with the strands at the back of his neck as her tongue flicked gently against his.

She pulled back slowly and he felt his cheeks flush. Maude took a deep breath and bit her lip.

"Sorry, I'm not usually so forward." She paused, obviously seeing the nervousness in his eyes. "That was great, by the way."

Bucky grinned as she giggled.

"S'okay. I appreciate you taking the initiative, darlin'."

“Anytime Sarge,” she winked at him, sliding her hands back down his neck to rest on his broad chest.

Bucky kept his metal hand gentle on Maude’s waist as he picked up one of her hands and pressed his lips to the palm.

“Thank you,” Bucky murmured against her skin, his clear blue eyes meeting her dark ones, soft with understanding. She turned his face and pressed her lips to his again.

“Like I said, anytime,” Maude smiled softly, Bucky pulled her close before releasing her, the two resuming their walk.

Her fingers intertwined with his metal ones once more, a part of him floating at finally feeling a semblance of happiness and another part of him wishing he could feel his hand in her own.

Bucky cleared his throat softly, glancing down at her. "Maude?," dark eyes raised to his with that same warm smile that made his giant frame melt, "Would...uh--can we..." He stammered, unsure of how to ask and even more unsure if she would even understand why, "would you mind if, uhm we changed hands?" He asked as their walk came to a stop.

Her brows knitted for a moment, her fingers dropping from his with his heart in his chest.

"I just don't feel a lot with this hand," He said flexing his metal fingers and glancing down at the one part of him he still had trouble accepting, "and I'd really like to feel you." Bucky's eyes lifted to hers once more.

The corners of her plush lips turned upwards as she took a step towards him, pressing them to the corner of his mouth. "Of course, Bucky."

The butterflies in his stomach exploded into a whirlwind of flutters as she rounded him, linking her hand to his. Her skin was warm and soft against his calloused hands making it that much harder not to spend the rest of the afternoon kissing her.

His heart fluttered in a way he didn’t recognize. For a second, he panicked. This is it. Of course. I finally find a girl I like and I have a goddamn heart attack. They started walking again, and as Maude slowly traced along his thumb with hers, he realized the flutter was something else entirely.

“I like you,” he blurted out.

He immediately sucked a deep breath in and held it in his lungs. He didn’t even realize he had said it out loud. Maybe she didn’t hear! They had another few blocks before they were back at the hall, and he was sure she was about to drop his hand, turn and run.

But then Maude giggled- the sweetest, lightest giggle he had ever heard. He exhaled a sigh of relief. And he swore that his eyeballs had been ripped out and replaced with giant cartoon hearts.

“I like you too, Sergeant” she whispered, continuing their pace. She wrapped her warm hand a little tighter around his.

His blush deepened while his grin grew wide, almost hurting his cheeks, and his heart stuttered before beating fast like a hummingbird. They walked hand in hand for the few blocks left, the closer they got, the more reluctant Bucky was about having to share her attention again with the rest of his teammates.

By the time they got to the entrance, Bucky was concentrating very hard on not closing his hand too tightly around Maude's because he didn't want to let go just yet.

"We're back…" he whispered hesitantly, not making a move to go inside.

She turned and smiled sweetly up at him, her lovely eyes captivating him to the point he almost lost focus and didn't hear her.

"It'll just be a few more minutes. I'll announce the winners and bid everyone goodbye and then," she stood on her tiptoes bringing herself closer to his cheek to press a quick, soft kiss on it, "I'm all yours, Sergeant."

She pulled on his hand and walked ahead of him while he followed her, stupidly looking after the woman who already had his heart in the palm of her hand, the ghost of her lips rendering him speechless.

As they entered the busy hall Maude pulled him over to the front table where all the pumpkins had been lined up. Bucky's jaw tensed, his chest filled with what felt like lightning as he watched her interact with one of the more impatient children behind her.

"Don't go anywhere," she smiled at him.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he smiled back at her, wondering when he had found himself. The version of him that had been beaten, abused and locked away for the last seventy years. The Bucky that loved the future, dancing and chasing after pretty girls. But as quickly as he found that innocent, flirty boy, his feelings were overcome by a familiar sense of dread and guilt.

"Don't worry," Rebecca linked her hand to his and looked up at him. "I know you're geriatric and lacking people skills, but your pumpkin carving skills are pretty good, we'll definitely win the contest."

Bucky looked down at her, confusion knitted into his heavy brows.

"Mr. Wilson said you had good knife skills. It's why I picked you," she whispered. "Don't tell the other kids I rigged the system, they already hate me. They say I'm loud and weird."

"I can see why," Bucky mumbled but laughed as her face turned angry, "don't ever let their words change you. Keep being funny and kind. It suits you. I needed a friend today and you were the only one brave enough to be mine." He smiled at her watching her tone change again, softness flooding her features as she nodded and straightened her shoulders. "Now let's win this contest."

"I hope you kissed Miss Maude, maybe it'll swing the contest in our favor..." Rebecca whispered.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he said softly, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.

Bucky saw her eyes slowly get impossibly wide, her jaw agape in surprise.

"You totally did, we're SO winning." she whisper-yelled squeezing his hand and bouncing slightly on her tiptoes.

He brought his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, holding back a smile.

"Of course, we're gonna win Becs. Cause our pumpkin is the coolest up there. Not because of me and Miss Maude, that's our secret, okay?"

Rebecca pressed her lips together in a tight smile and brought her free hand up to Bucky's metal one, motioning for a pinky promise. Bucky's heart swelled as he carefully wrapped his finger in hers.

When they straightened back up to await the judging, he quickly found Maude's gaze and threw her a wink. He smiled, watching the soft pink flush gather at her cheeks.

Bucky took Rebecca's hand, grinning down at her while Maude, Pepper and Happy walked up and down the table. If it was anyone but Pepper, he would have questioned why the girlfriend of an Avenger was judging them - but the redhead had proven to be a voice of reason dozens of times in the past, so he trusted her.

Time seemed to tick by, and Rebecca quickly grew impatient with the wait.

"What's taking them so long?" She asked in a loud whisper.

Bucky shrugged but nodded to the front as Maude clapped her hands to get the group's attention.

"Alright everyone - after some careful consideration, we've picked the winners!" She looked around the room, pausing for a second to give Bucky a large, cheerful smile. The third and second-place pumpkins were announced, by Happy and Pepper, before Maude moved down the table to the end. She stopped in front of Bucky and Rebecca's pumpkin, "In first place - Rebecca and Bucky!"

Rebecca squealed and grabbed Bucky's arm, nearly shaking his entire body with the force of her overjoyed jumping. Bucky couldn't help but laugh out loud, ruffling her hair with his free arm.

"Oh, alright! I see how it is!" Sam exclaimed, pushing his chair back in semi-mock outrage as Steve put his face in his hand. "It's easy to win when you make goo-goo eyes at the judge all day, Barnes!"

"You can't win 'em all, Wilson!" Bucky shouted back as Rebecca pulled him to the front of the room for their prize.

"Yeah, Wilson!" Rebecca exclaimed, sticking her tongue out at him as Maude gave the little girl a large ribbon.

Maude stood on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on Bucky's cheek and fixed him with a broad smile as Sam continued to halfheartedly grumble. Bucky looked down at Rebecca and her ribbon, mischief glinting in his icy blue eyes.

"Wait, so if she gets a ribbon...what's my prize?" he asked Maude softly.

Maude tapped her chin, eyes up at the ceiling as she pretended to contemplate her answer.

"Would my number work? Then maybe a date?" she replied cheekily before blushing just as furiously as Bucky.

"He's gotta learn how to use a phone first!" Sam yelled across the room with a ferocity that made even Steve laugh out loud.

Bucky covered Rebecca's eyes before flipping him off behind Maude's back, grinning like a madman even though for once he didn't feel crazy at all. He brushed a strand of her thick hair behind her ear, returning the favor she had given him all afternoon.

"Sounds like a plan, doll."

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