#sam and dean were at a point where they needed to deal with the false image of their perfect mother

[harbingerofsoup]

oh so when any other iffy character choice gets made on supernatural it’s the writers fault and we can accept it, but when mary winchester—

[scoobydoodean]

So I did a poll on this not that long ago, but now that I have finished 3.15 on this rewatch, I thought I'd give my two cents on what Sam was planning in terms of using Doc Benton's alchemy to make himself and Dean immortal. I think the following details are pretty damn important.

First, Sam lies to Dean about his sense about the case. He does so by omission—he "neglects" to state that he thinks Doc Benton is responsible for the bodies that are turning up and lets Dean believe they're hunting zombies. But Sam knew this was Doc Benton—or at least he heavily suspected it. This is why, when the coroner shows them the latest victim has been cut with the precision of a scalpel, not teeth, Sam starts to look excited. Of course, Sam also admits he suspected Benton all along after Dean confronts him about it. Sam denies it at first but does a bad job of covering his dishonesty because he's not very good at lying to Dean. Now—one possible interpretation here is that Sam "didn't want to get Dean's hopes up". Sam sort of implies this when he says, "I didn't wanna say anything until I was sure". But... Sam thought they were dealing with Benton, and given that John had had a previous run-in with Benton, it actually would have been extremely easy to convince Dean to go on this case without lying about who the M.O. was actually suggesting to Sam. Which to me, means... maybe not wanting to get Dean's hopes up is what Sam tells himself, but... it's not a particularly logical or sensible explanation. Sam could have easily concealed his interest in Benton's alchemy while admitting he thought it was Benton from the get go.

The reason I think Sam doesn't admit it is at least partly that he wants to slowly ease Dean into the idea of studying Benton's alchemy. He (rightly I think) assumes that Dean isn't going to like what Doc Benton does, and the longer Dean has to think about Doc Benton and what exactly he does, and the longer Dean is in "hunter" mode with Benton as his targeted prey, the more disgusted and wrathful Dean's going to become. Sam thinks that if he can direct the narrative a little, where they're "stumbling" across a possible method of saving Dean, he can warm Dean up to the idea of looking into Benton's science—science that Sam knows is very likely to involve some really fucked up shit.

This leads me to a second important detail, which is how exactly Sam thinks this immortality thing "buying them time" is going work:

I mean, we're talking hell in three weeks. Or needing a new pancreas in like half a century...

But... this is argument is predicated upon a completely false premise. There are two things Sam and Dean both know without a shadow of a doubt at this point in time:

Hell hounds are coming for Dean in three weeks and they're going to rip his body to shreds.

Nothing about Benton's method of achieving immortality prevents his body from being torn to pieces. That's the entire reason he's been harvesting people's organs for decades in the first place. Parts get damaged or start falling apart, and then Benton has to replace them.

So when Sam refers to a pancreas Dean's going to need in "half a century", he is completely denying a very obvious reality. It isn't going to be 50 years. It's going to be three weeks, and then Dean's going to be torn apart, and then he is going to need a whole slew of new body parts and organs. In other words, when Sam refers to some pancreas Dean is going to need in 50 years, he is either stupid, fully in denial because he's so desperate to find a way to save Dean, or is basically shouting, "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain" hoping Dean won't catch onto the very inconvenient flaw in Sam's plan.

Personally, I don't think Sam is stupid. I also don't think his initial attempts to conceal who he thought was the culprit in the case he found lend to reading this in a way where Sam doesn't actually grasp the consequences.

In 3.11 Mystery Spot, we saw Sam say "Then let's go get some" when Not!Bobby said they could summon Gabriel to get revenge for Dean by finding someone and bleeding them dry for a spell. And we'll see Sam make more plays, going forward, where yes, other people might bite it so his brother can live... but that's a sacrifice Sam is willing to make.

That said, my personal opinion of what Sam was really thinking in 3.15 actually falls somewhere between Sam being in denial and Sam very much understanding the consequences of the plan he's forming and being okay with those consequences. I think in a sense, both are true. On the one hand, I think Sam knew deep down exactly what he was willing to do to keep Dean alive. On the other hand, I don't think Sam ever looked at his own reflection in the mirror on this. Sam suggesting Dean won't need an organ for 50 years and they're just "buying time" somehow isn't just what Sam wants Dean to believe so maybe he'll agree... it's what Sam needs to believe too as he slowly eases himself into the idea of using Benton's alchemy.

[supernaturalkickparty]

7. What is your favorite scene you’ve written so far?

11. What scene are you most hyped for this chapter/fic?

7. Oh god i am horrible at choosing!!!! I think what comes to mind right now is something I wrote for a j2 au. Jared is a severe epileptic who has memory issues. Jensen was previously married but his husband passed away. This scene is after Jared has a bad seizure and in the hospital, he has no memory of Jensen or of the relationship they have. Jensen can't deal.

Jensen wasn't sure where to go, he just knew he needed to try to calm himself before he sent himself into a full blown breakdown. He drove aimlessly for a while before he realized he ended up at the cemetery.

He walked the same path that he had taken every single time he would go to his former husband's grave. He stared at the headstone, a mixture of anger and sadness washing over him.

"Am I being punished? Is that what this is? I finally feel ok to move on, I feel it's time to move on, and I start dating Jared. I love him so damn much. I stopped wearing my wedding band, I'm changing my name back to Ackles and this shit happens?!" Jensen was in full blown tears at this point. "I hate you, I fucking hate you for leaving me, I hate you for all the false hope of "prayer works" and for what? You still died!"

Jensen sat on the grass, his body shaking as he sobbed. He wished things could be back to normal. His new normal, his life with Jared.

"I prayed for things to be ok with Jared, like a fucking idiot I believed since you always did, and he's alive. I'm beyond grateful. He's walking around, but I'm a total stranger to him all over again and it's too much for him. It's too much for me because all I want to do is hold him and tell him how much I love him and how glad I am that he woke up because I was terrified he would never wake up." Jensen ran a hand across his face. He wondered what Jared was doing right now, he just left him back at their apartment and he should have stayed and talked.

"I love him...more than I loved you. It feels like I love him more than I loved you and it scares me. It scares me because what if I lose him next time." Jensen scoffed. "I probably lost him now but at least I know he's alive. If he were to have another seizure and it was so bad that I lost him...I don't think I could handle burying him after burying you."

Jensen stood up slowly, dusting himself off from the grass and dirt that covered his jeans. He had to get home and just hope that Jared would allow him to talk. Hope that Jared will allow him to be near him.

11. The scene I'm hyped for is the big reveal. I'm working on 3 fics but currently trying to focus on my dad!dean au. The reveal being that everyone but Sam knows that Dean's his dad. It's an au, like first chapter off the bat sets it all up for Sam to go his whole life and not know until a certain moment that has me chewing glass. So you're already thrown into the world where Dean's raising him but he doesn't know.

Currently on chapter 3 and I'm not sure how long it'll be. But I'm having fun with it.

[scripted-downfall]

The Curious Case of Bobby Singer

So, apparently I was mistaken in one of my earlier posts; specifically, Lucifer May Be Rising, But So Is My Temper.  When I introduced that, I said “I love Bobby Singer with all of my heart,” and that’s not completely false… but also, I was thinking about season 5 episode 7 “The Curious Case of Dean Winchester” and I realized that I have serious qualms with how both Bobby and Sam acted in that episode.

I mean, I get that it’s supposed to be funny, but the humor used kinda turns my stomach a touch.  Don’t get me wrong: the concept?  Brilliant.  The acting?  Great.  The villain?  Lovely.  

But.  The humor.

I mean, for one thing, every single time Bobby teases Dean for his age is bloody asinine.  He seems to forget that the only reason they were in that mess in the first place was that he decided to play the who-knows-how-old witch and lost, to the point that he might well have been about to die, and that Dean sacrificed half of the years he ended up losing to bring Bobby back to normal.

And also, for all that Bobby was struggling with his sudden need to adjust to being in a wheelchair, Dean was suddenly having to adjust to being old.  It’s not like it happened gradually; he literally aged 50 years in the span of a few minutes, and no one had any patience for that whatsoever.  Instead, it was all jokes about how funny it was when Dean tried to be his usual self (the burgers, the flirting, the safe-cracking) and it fell through.  The increasing number of medical conditions that are just sprung on him all at once?  He says, “a little sympathy wouldn’t hurt” and he’s not wrong.  I feel the need to point out that he’s 80 years old and digging a grave.  For reference, apparently, according to the SPN Wiki, Bobby lived from 1950 to 2012 which means he was 62 when he died.  18 years younger than Dean was in the episode where Bobby and Sam found it so funny to mock him.

Oh, and Sam’s impatience at Dean climbing the stairs?  Holy shit, can you get more dickish?  Once again, in terms of physical age, Dean was 80 years old.  Climbing up 37 flights of stairs to the witch’s apartment would be hard for a great deal of people a lot younger than 80.  I’ve known 70-year-olds who can’t walk around their one-story house without struggling.  It’s a fact of getting old that things get harder, and Sam giving Dean a bitchface about him being a touch slower due to the whole magical aging thing is just uncalled for and selfish, especially since it’s not like Sam was dealing with anything of the sort and he couldn’t possibly know what it was like.  (And, since we see Sam get old in a less-than-graceful way — his wig-I mean, hair alone was horrendous — he really has no room to mock Dean.)

Also, no one seems to address the fact that the magic is basically putting Dean at his actual age?  I mean, it’s easy for them to forget because they were on Earth the whole time, but Dean spent forty years in Hell.  That means that he’s, what, 70?  In terms of how many years he’s lived through?  Sam’s response of “You’re thirty, Dean!” to “Sammy, when you get to be our age-” is played off as a joke, but, once again, it’s a jerk joke to make; he’s very much not thirty.  He’s been through more shit than Sam has (at least at that point), and Sam acting like he knows everything and has any right whatsoever to lecture Dean is ridiculous.

Anyway, maybe I’m just being oversensitive or something — I’ll be the first to admit that I never find jokes about someone losing their identity, losing the things that make them them, to be funny or, really, anything but hurtful and objectionable — but the humor woven into this entire episode was just… ugh.  No.

I don’t know if anyone agrees, but this is one of those episodes that I’m very rarely (if ever) going to rewatch because of how in-poor-taste I find it.

[thekillingjoke-haha]

YOU ARE WERE MINE

Summary: Sacrifices are often made for the ones we love....even if it might hurt.

Parings: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader, Hinted at Male!reader x John Winchester, and Sam Winchester x Unmentioned girls

Warning?: Bi Sam ,Dean still flirting with reader, No jess death for M/n, Reader is a hunter...and never told Sam, Yellow-eyes, mention(hint at) smut

Sam looked up at M/n with a smile he wore a sexy fireman outfit for the bar outing the yellow shirt looked like it was going to rip if the surprisingly taller male flexed a little too much the red suspenders held up loss fitting brown pants and a axe that leaned on the door frame. "Come on Babe dress up a little." He said tightening the suspenders straps.

"You know I don't like Halloween." Sam sighed as his boyfriend came up to him kissing his cheek with a mischievous smirk. "Too bad guess I can't give you your treat." The h/c man growled nipping his ear as he walked out of their shared bedroom. With a fake pout he chased after him. "If I put on a Halloween shirt will it pass?" He said hopefully putting his arms over M/n shoulder causing him to put his hands on his hips. "Hmmm....If I get to pick the shirt." Sam chuckled and nodded. He'll soon regret that.

Luis was loosing his shit laughing at the shit while M/n smiled proudly at what his boyfriend was wearing it was a plain dark gray t-shirt with the words 'Just the tip. I Promise.' And a knife. "This has to be your best work, N/n." Stephan, M/n best friend, said dressed as a cop high fives the awaiting hand.

M/n gave Sammy a small grin and winked causing him to blush slightly. It was time to celebrate with friends Sam's accomplishment he can wait later to celebrate with Sam his own way.

(Time skip past smexy times~might do it later)

M/n woke up in a empty bed to the sound of a fight he quickly got up in only his boxers to see what was wrong. He knew it was human since he had symbols all under wall paper and floor boards. Turning on the lights he sees Sam and a shorter man next to him "Sammy?" He said causing both of them to look over maybe he should have put on pants eyes raked down his form. "Woah. Hi I'm Dean Rapunzel's older brother. You must be his roommate..." The green eyed man bit his lip looking down south of the s/c man before him. "...I just love Scooby-Doo.~" Dean said keeping his gaze on the mystery machine briefs M/n was wearing. Sam quickly got between both of them pushing his brother back. "Dean this N/n my boyfriend" A confused look crossed his face. "Where's Jess you girlfriend?" He asked. "She was my roommate graduated a year ago and M/n moved in."

Dean looked back at M/n the flirtatious smirk back on his face. "You're way out of my brothers league." Sam put a around his boyfriends waist pulling him close. "Why are you here Dean?" There was a pause of silence. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days." The blonde said before it was shot down. "Let me rephrase. Dad's on a hunting trip and hasn't been home in a few days." With that Sam tensed up and looked over to M/n. "I'll be right back." His tone rushed as he peeked him in the cheek and left their shared apartment brother in tow.

Once the sound of their foot steps were heard going down the stairs M/n sighed his hand running through his bed head. "Fucking Winchester’s." He mumbled before going back up stairs going to his old room. M/n went to the closet moving boxes out of the way till he got to the duffel bag he was looking for. A burner phone weighed heavy in his hand as he wandered back to bed. "If he goes I go." He mumbled to himself looking at the mirror on the nightstand. M/n has been off and on with hunting ever since he started dating Sam and he knew who he was the moment his last name left his lips, but he only put on a smile and gave him his first and middle name since L/n were famous in the community.

Sam came back to the apartment and started to pack a bag. "Sam what's going on?" M/n said innocently as he watched more of his boyfriends clothes fill the bag. "Just going to help look for Dad. Probably just went out with a old friend and didn't bother to pick up." Sam zipped up the bag as he threw it over his shoulder. "You know what's Monday right?! You can't just not show up it's your dream on the line, Babe!" M/n stepped forward slowing down the rushed pace. "I know...you're right and I'll be back on Monday." We walked out of the building. "Promise to call me when you get there." The h/c man said hugging the long haired brunette close. "I promise." With a final kiss goodbye M/n waved him off before going inside. Time to jump back into the L/n family business. Pulling out the burner it rung as the first number was dialed. "I don't give a damn of you are the IRS or girl scouts selling fucking cookies it's one am you idjit!" The familiar voice rung out. "Good talking to you to Uncle Bobby." M/n chuckled and the older man's breath caught in his throat. "Well I'll be damned do my ears deceive me or is that little F/n all grown up?"

"Glad you didn't trash this number."

"What are you calling for boy its still 1am?" Bobby asked.

" I need to pick up my truck. I'm going hunting."

~~~~Time Skip~~~~

Sam sat in the motel room trying to call M/n, but he didn't pick up. If only he knew that right at that moment he was beheading a vampire while laughing like a sadistic prick. After cleaning the blood off and burning the barn that held the nest M/n tried calling back when it picked up he heard Sam's distressed voice. "M/n now is not a good time. I'm so cold hold me" A voice spoke over Sam's. "Who the hell was that?!" I heard a loud hissing noise. "Sam!" That's when a shotgun went off, glass shattered, and the lime went dead. M/n stood up and paced un his room it would be late before he got home he'll have to hall ass to get there before Sam.

Going out to the truck he opened the bed lifting the metal cover and false bottom loading the weapons. He had no time to drop it back off. The road was silent till a voice interrupted it. "Hello, handsome. What's the rush?" Almost swerving into a ditch M/n looked over and saw a man with graying blonde hair. Reaching for a weapon the man's eyes flashed yellow gazing at him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He snapped causing the h/c make to look straight and push hard into his seat. "You're the little Winchester’s boy toy. Well in two hours he'll be home and dead by the time you arrive." M/n's breath caught in his throat. "Liar. I'm not stupid every hunter has heard what happened to Mary it doesn't take a genius to see they weren't the only one's. You need him alive and well, so why are you hear?" He growled low in his throat as the demon chuckled. "Got me there. You see Sammy boy needs to get back in the life and you being, I don't know, alive is getting in the way." The pressure grew stronger on the restrained man's chest till he almost could feel his lungs squeeze. "But I'm a business man. You work for me you live and maybe see Sam again or die in a blaze and the last thing he sees is your burning corpse. Can't be a protective boyfriend if your dead."

"What will happen to me if I agree?" That's when a sick smile pulled on his lips. "You become a demon. No a demon doesn't possess you! You yourself become one you memories and personality intact. So deal?" He held his hand out to the s/c man as he sighed taking his eyes from the road. "Deal." The demons yellows eyes shined bright as he yanked the young man forward pressing their lips together sealing it. "You are mine." He growled possessively as M/n pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number. It went to voice mail. "Hey Rapunzel. I want you to know...I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. You mean the world to me...so once you figure out how to open you voice mail this is waiting for you."

Sam woke up from his nightmare of his burning apartment building. It been almost three years since then and he never gotten over it. It took a year to get to his messages and what M/ n left behind gave him more questions then answers. He couldn't even get into the apartment before the flames erupted. Sam had doubts about M/n in the fire, but after the police report was released only one casualty of M/n Middle/n. Dean tried to tell my it would at some point get better, but the guilt still felt heavy in his chest. Nightmares of M/n in the fire not in pain, but seeming to absorb the flames made him question what really happened. The brothers had a lead on yellow eyes that their dad led them to. It all seemed to convenient that after the fight he knew to much about the demon that pledged his nightmares. The warehouse was falling apart it was in shambles as Dean parked baby next to it. "Are you sure this is the place?" Sam asked his brother. "Dad said this was it. Load up." Dean got out the car popping the trunk. This didn't feel right.

Tied up, beaten, and tortured. The Winchesters look up at their own fathers face with those horrid yellow eyes. "You boys never questioned a thing didn't even hesitate to come inside!" He chuckled darkly as the surrounding demons grinned. "This would have been the part where I laugh at you kill you dragging your sorry souls to hell to be my toys for the next millennium, but I have something better!" Signature Winchester grin lifted his lips as he called out seeming to no one. "Oh, honey bear! Come say hi." The sound of a strong gust of wind came from behind them as the clack of well made dress shoes hit the shifty floor boards. A man wearing black dress pants, shoes, and a open f/c(not black) silk button up. His back was to the brothers as John lifted his head up to kiss the man's cheek. Turning around white eyes looked at them, but that face was unmistakably M/n's a scar on his brow but it was him. Sam was chocked up M/n was in front of him looking well and oh God he's with enemy that took their dad's body as a meat suit.

"Do you like him, Sammy? Hells best torturer!" John said running his hands over M/n as the man kept his gaze locked on the tallest Winchester analyzing him as he seethed with anger at the demon touched his boyfriend. "Oh the things he's done would make Lucifer blush." Yellow-eyes trailed his hand down the scarred chest biting his lip making Sam struggle more. Snapping his fingers the other demons took Dean, but Sam was left there. "You're not useful to me dead Sammy boi." The demon circled him. "What's the best kind of torture, love?" M/n seemed to move for the first time getting right in front of Sam dropping to his knees being face to face with him. Cupping the beaten cheek of the hunter in his s/c hand his white clouded orbs turned the lively e/c giving a sympathetic look before it switched off. "Physiological." Sam didn't notice the room shifted into their old apartment tears pooled in those e/c eyes. "Where were Sammy?" A hiccup in between silent cries ended the sentence as a scene played out of M/n on the phone trying to talk to Sam before it cut off. "I needed you!" A scene of M/n chained to a wall seeing figures of his past hurt him till he gave in. "You were mine. And you threw it all away, threw me away like garbage!" The images went to Sam being with girls, but he could see familiar h/c hair in the background.

Tears rolled down Sam's face as white eyes filled his vision the eyes he loved fading away. What felt like hours happened in only a few seconds and within those seconds Sam was broken. He buried his face into the palm still cupping his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!' Sam would do anything for his M/n back even if it meant killing the monster his father has become. A gentle kiss stopped the trail of tears. "You are mine."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Quote= I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. -The Vampire Diaries

Tagged: @spnquotebingo

First male reader it was fun.

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

[icefire149]

Okay so 15x13 Destiny’s Child was a fun one for having (the pizza man montage) returning characters we haven’t seen in a decade. While I adored having Genevieve Padalecki back on my tv screen, it always felt weird to me this direction for Ruby. I get that it was more of an easy fanservice plot because it’s the last season & she’s married to Jared, but Ruby understood angels are dangerous cosmic beings. I don’t see her being pals with Anael during the timeframe. Ideally, Crowley would’ve worked splendidly for this episode (but I understand his reasoning for leaving the show and I don’t blame him). He has a history of finding and keeping artifacts. AND he has a massively bigger tie to Castiel so the scene would’ve felt heavier emotionally, especially with the chekhov's gun of the Empty jail break they were setting up for. While Cas never warmed up to Crowley, he does owe him a few times over AND Dean (to the audience’s knowledge) wanted Crowley back from the dead. 

BUT right now I’m envisioning a version where we did more with Rachel Miner as Meg instead. Because, well first off, bringing her back was the best decision and I wanted to see a ton more of her. We already knew Meg was privileged to a lot of information with ties to Lucifer so her having an idea of where the occultum was wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. Even making a shady deal with Anael would make more sense in the timeline. There’s no way Anael was fucking around on Earth with Ruby during SEASON 4. Looking for the occultum for a safe place to hide during season 6′s angel civil war...now THAT makes sense. 

We could’ve played up scenes where Anael is leading Sam and Dean on a goose chase because Meg would not have hidden it in Hell. And the boys aren’t listening to Cas as he’s pointing out that Crowley was tentatively holding the throne and as a Lucifer loyalist Meg couldn’t come and go from Hell. Then we could have Cas hesitant about his plan to sneak into the Empty because he failed her and now he needs to face her directly. And I think we could’ve played the rest of Cas’ plot this episode as a massive mind game.

He searches for her in the Empty and finds her, but the Shadow ALSO takes on her form. So as they’re being attacked and separated and coming together again, it’s all extremely confusing who is actually Meg since the Empty also knows her memories. So we end up fed bits of information. Some true. Some false. It’s all to be sorted later, but the important overall vein is that it’s about how to possibly escape the Empty because Cas doesn’t want to leave her there. 

[dotthings]

The gaslighting needs to stop. Systemic power imbalanced in the tv industry are real. Network interference is real. Erasure and unkindness towards marginalized characters is real. 

I’m more on the canon analysis end of things personally, but I assure you the fans trying to figure out WTF happened here and account for stuff that objectively, even the people more skeptical acknowledge is weird and points back towards network interference, try to debunk their own theories. They are telling you that, they are transparent about their information, if you don’t feel like playing detailed murder wall, then don’t, but to deny there is a very very real power imbalance behind the scenes that hurt marginalized characters and fans, and hurt the story, is toxic. Stop it. 

Things like the Spanish dub and people who have worked on the show coming out of the woodwork to support Destiel should be a clue. Latin America believes it’s a mutually requited love story, canon confirmed from both sides, because that is what aired on a big tv network there. And watch out for that US-centric thinking that somehow thinks this doesn’t count. (Also plot twist: the US is the restrictive market. Wake up).

My wheelhouse is more canon analysis so I’m going to say now that the gaslighting about canon, about aired canon, about confirmed canon, about implied canon, seems to me a whole lot of toxic detached-from-reality hand waving so hard to still, STILL!!--try to deny the validity of Destiel. I’m glad some of y’all think this is merely hilarious, and after not showing up and not being supportive and not sticking your neck out at all to protect Destiel shippers from bullying, you came back just to eat the popcorn because it amuses you and I’m supposed to think that’s pro-Destiel supportive or something, or it’s people who have no horse in the race who just want fandom entertainment so everything’s a joke while they reinforce the exact attitudes that let this kind of systemic oppression perpetuate and get away with erasing marginalized voices in the tv industry, in fandom, in stories. Nice work, people. Your holier-than-thou attitude is real convincing. 

Then there’s the people trying to convince everyone it’s convincing to play false equivalency cha-cha and as if people only see this as canon due to a) 1 slash joke b) they stared at each other that one time c) drapes. Because old school fans are so proud that in their day, nobody wanted their queer ships to be canon and Destiel is just like *insert whatever slash ship of the past that had about 1/10th of the loud textual material and canon development Destiel has*. You want to try to argue against the epic nature of the text on Dean and Cas, hey give it your all, but it’s not going to hold up. If I started listing off the immensity, things that are textual plot points, it would be a 3,000 word essay. Stop playing false equivalency. Stop trying to artificially yank this back into the past because you can’t handle the textual validity of Destiel.

Deal with the fact that this is not an easily classifiable situation.

Even if in the end the same old systemic crap stifled its full due, and that’s the part that is tiresome, Dean and Cas deserve better than have their actual canon content demeaned.

After the story we have seen. After 12 seasons of deep-dive development. After Cas was finally openly confirmed as queer, and in love with Dean, in the final season, 2 episodes from the end, and Misha echoed it, and from Dean’s side, because full confirmation on Dean’s side is being held down, Jensen protected a romantic reading, protected people’s right to see Dean as in love with Cas not having a chance to speak his heart. Protected the right to that reading within the ambiguity that he knows is as far as the canon was able to take it. After the ship became canon confirmed as at least unrequited love story. Whether Jensen ships it or not, he has been very loudly and openly protective of fan readings and has been very openly excited about 15.18 and the handprint, he knows this is a great story and he’s been openly excited about how excited and joyful fans were about that episode. 

But what we have seen on our screens, what the story told us, transcends the muzzles placed on it. What we have seen is a mutually requited love story. We already saw in action how Dean loves Cas. We are left with, in the end, the silencing of Dean Winchester. Gosh I wonder why the silencing of Dean Winchester. Why was it necessary. Why was he not even permitted to speak at all, to anyone, to confide about how he even felt about Cas’s love confession. Why did Jensen have to do the heavy lifting to meta it for us. Why did Cas have to be left fully out of the series finale on a show he was so key on for 12 seasons, as a 3rd lead. Why is that? Because the only thing the creative team would ever be allowed to do by corporate is friendzone it and they didn’t want to friendzone it. 

So we are cursed with ambiguity from Dean’s side. And if the series finale had done better by Dean’s story, including his death, and by Cas’s story (instead of shoving him out of sight), if it hadn’t erased Eileen and Saileen, if it hadn’t failed Sam’s story, if it hadn’t been a regressive, awkward mess, most shippers would have accepted ambiguity if Dean and Cas has been given at least the respect of a reunion, if Dean had at least been given the chance to partially speak even if it couldn’t be removed from ambiguity. But the system was too scared of it. It had to be held down and muffled hard.

It was yanked out of the story artificially in ways that don’t match Destiel’s narrative importance before the series finale and don’t match 12 seasons of storytelling. It’s artificial. It is a silencing. And it shows. 

That sudden silence was a scream.

"The writers” were for it. “The writers” wanted to tell that story even if network interference prevented it. Some of us were gaslighted and smeared and bashed just for pointing it out, and we turned out to be right.

DESTIEL IS CANON. And the parts where fans still have to rely on interpretation for have ample, AMPLE, story evidence and external evidence--that has nothing to do with deeper dive murder walls, it has to do with support shown, and confirmed information--all point to a mutually reciprocated love story.

How many more times do shippers have to be proven right before people stop this. I was bullied for several seasons just for saying Destiel was a purposefully crafted a valid textual reading, by my own lane. For asserting it was a love story designed to dodge under network radar. I was bullied for years before that by antis, who didn’t like seeing people love this ship too much, who didn’t like that I refused to get down on my knees and label myself as delusional just for seeing it, for refusing to bow down and say “it’s only about 2 brothers so I am wrong to say Destiel matters too.” 

The unkindness in this fandom over all this continues to be overwhelming. Get your shit together.  You worship your favorite actors and then they show you up every time by being kinder and more open and understanding than fans manage to be. Jensen and Misha are showing you how to roll and people are ignoring it in favor of continuing to try to silence and demean Destiel shippers.

For Destiel shippers, don’t let all this gaslighting and shaming nonsense and the systemic corporate nonsense that wants Destiel silenced knock you off from your reading of canon. It was valid. It was real. Thanks to the magic of bleedback effect, now it was always textual, the subtextual has been transformed retroactively, and it’s from both Dean and Cas’s end. If you still feel doubt on Dean’s side, because we didn’t get the same loud explicit confirmation, go back to the text itself. If you believed it already for Cas, if Cas’s confession to Dean only validated what you already knew, why can’t you see it for Dean, because it’s already there. 

[herstarburststories]

He didn’t make it to 42

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: it’s Dean’s birthday, you go to visit him with some news and things that need to be said.

A/N: Happy bday, De.

Warnings: so much angst, mentions of sex, hopeful/happy ending (?)

Dean’s dead. It’s Dean’s birthday and he’s dead. You can’t argue much.

Sam denied the demon blood inside him, and that didn’t stop its evil nature from growing and gasping for his fresh air to the point he was almost shocked alive. Dean denied his dad’s destructive methods’ results for the longest time, and that didn’t stop the cicatrixes in every emotion he had ever shown. You denied the absence of Dean and that didn’t stop the bricks cracking in your soul. There’s only so far you can go with your eyes closed.

So here you are. Standing in front of an empty grave. You are bigger than the dull tombstone, yet you can’t help but not to feel tall, at all. How can you even start to talk? Talking to Dean used to be easy even when it got hard and now you’re feeling like a lost kid in a supermarket. Your snide thinking spells out his name with venom, saying it isn’t easy for you to open your barmy mouth and spill out contrarian shit because this isn’t Dean, just another meaningless symbolism that Sam promises that will help. The real Dean died almost a year ago, he was burned in a hunter’s funeral, the flames dancing over his body as the smell of burnt meat invaded your nostrils. Whenever you try to remember his fragrance, that manly aroma which you loved to scent each morning, all your brain can come up with is the odor of his skin and guts burning. The smell lingers like bad perfume, it doesn’t matter how many times you wash yourself with his soap-- that only broke your heart worse.

But today is Dean’s birthday. He deserves a visit, even if it’s not him. Then you go and attempt to deal with the desolation, push it away just a little, and pick up something from the enormous pile of things you wish to tell Dean. You glance at the cold tombstone: Dean Winchester. 1979 - 2020. Beloved son, big brother, and husband. Hunter. A hero. Simple definitions that can never make it up for who he was and what he meant. You purse your lips and cough a little, a gentle wind touches your cheek so tenderly. If you were still a believer, you’d think this is some sort of sign, Dean’s presence or some other pious hoax. All you do now is to remain in quietude, a deep breath. Ultimately, your voice comes:

‘’You didn’t make it to forty two, huh?’’ You scoff humorless, reminiscing to the multiple days that Dean said he wouldn’t go past 35. He did live each year like it was the last--- you aren’t sure if it's such a good thing. If you carry on like your days are outnumbered, you are silently entertaining yourself until death's knock on your door. ‘’I always hated when you were right. Let’s be honest, you had the words of a pessimist and the wants of an optimist. Still, if you were to be right about something, it would be about a bad situation. A nest with too many vampires, how crappy the motel’s bedroom would be, or how that third glass of wine would make me tipsy. So yeah, I always hated when you were right. And look at you now! You aren’t right, you aren’t wrong. You are dead! And I’m the crazy girl screaming at an empty tombstone.’’

You let out a laugh empty of joy. That’s how a hunter’s life is: you die and people stop talking about you because it’s too sad or too long gone to hold any pity, meanwhile the ones who recall about you go loud with all the spirits in their heads. You put your hand in the pockets of the heavy leather jacket that once belonged to a green eyed man who would be turning 42 today, some strange force causing you to speak again.

‘’Wow.’’ You shake your head to the blue way you paint the scene until you notice that you never greeted him. ‘’Hey.’’ The simple word adds a comical insult to injury. ‘’Guess the dead don’t care about manners, huh?’’ You arch your eyebrows with a grin that demonstrates anything but happiness. ‘’Miracle died. Sam digged a hole next to the bunker and buried him there. He isn’t the same since you died, you know? Not the deceased dog-- Well, he wasn’t the same either. Always whining and scratching your door like a fucking cat, and sniffing your old boots. He made me company in your bed and I whined as much as he did when you didn’t come back home that day. He stood by the door most days, waiting for you to appear. I can’t judge him, I did the same.’’ You shrug, not caring about how risible that confession may look. It's true. You became as irrational as a loyal dog at some point in this sorrow. ‘’And Sam, your baby brother… I think he died with you right there, Dean. He didn’t try to bring you back as he promised, but I shouted and screamed so much. I said I would burn the bunker and throw Baby over a cliff if he didn’t-- if he didn’t let me try. I lived up to the mad woman title.’’

You are crestfallen, pacing on top of where the eldest Winchester - Sam’s brand new nomination -  supposedly was buried. You know your boots barely touch an infected land, there's no deceased man under your steps. The dead thing is in you.

‘’I spent days dragging your body everywhere and nowhere, anywhere I could catch a crumb of relief in hope to bring you back. But I couldn’t. Jack could, but that ungrateful idiot doesn’t wanna follow his grandpa steps and get too attached to mere humans, the creation or whatever. As if we are just some skin and bone to him, as if you are just another human.’’

You sit down on the tombstone, some tender solace in being close to a thing that's supposed to represent him, like sleeping hugged to a pillow or waking up to a photograph of his. Your nails sink against the gelid concrete at the thought of screaming into the sky for the new God that seemed as deaf as the last one. His calm answer to your burning pain. How he dared to tell you he knew what he was doing— as if he was the original lord and not a three years old. You can't make him do it, so you hold on the fury of some overthrown nation.

‘’Anyway, I couldn’t bring you back. Your body, well, you know how human anatomy works. Your body started to smell like death. We tried to stop with human and magic ways, and it wouldn’t work because you were dead. You should’ve seen the doctor’s face when we got you in that fancy hospital tha night. I think we traumatized the doctor with so much violence and trauma. She didn’t even give us a false hope or anything, you know? She just asked about organ donation of what was left. She just wanted to take every little thing out of you, as if you were just another accident on a Tuesday night.’’ Your shake your head as the memories and your points start to mix, it's hard to discern things and keep a straight line when you have an open wound in your insides. ‘’Well, they couldn’t bring you back to life, and neither could Rowena or whatever I looked for. Don’t be mad because I tried, Winchester. You know I’m too stubborn for my own good. I had to try.’’ you refuse to apologize, yet adds the playful words in his eulogy. ‘’But then your body started to stink and God, how could I continue to be so violent to your corpse? That was when I decided to listen to you for the first time and to Sam, so I let you go. I hate you for asking that.’’ What an ambiguous, contradictory truth to bare. You are glimpses of a person for months because of Dean Winchester, still have the energy to argue his selfless logic, just to love him even more. He's got your devotion, but man you can hate him sometimes. ‘’I hate you for going on that stupid hunt. I hate you for being dead, you giant idiot that I love so much.’’ You can't bring your mouth to say loved. "I was always telling you to let the past go and now I’m in love with a dead thing. What a comic way to end our history. I told you that Miracle died, right? I don’t know if dogs go to heaven, but I hope he’s in there with you. I wonder what your heaven is like. I bet it has Whiskey.''

Your dry chuckle makes your notice the tears in your eyes, glistening your orbs as they go like a waterfall to be absorbed by the thirsty land after leaving your cheeks.

"Sam and I-- We tried to make some sense out of this cruelty, but we can’t. You are dead and I can’t seem to put it past me. I still sleep in your bed, and I can still taste your body burning on the roof of my mouth in the quiet nights. I cried this morning because someone asked for a burger, can you believe that? It was so stupid since I used to shake my head and argue with you about cholesterol. Suddenly I was crying at lunch in a restaurant because some stupid kid asked for a burger with extra bacon. They sang Happy birthday to this dumbass child, and I interrupted with my awful crying, and wished that you were celebrating your birthday and not that kid. I guess you could say I wish death upon an innocent child with a problematic eating routine.’’ That was a whole new level of low, as if you are the one wrapped with the sentiment of laying six feet under.

‘’Everyone tells you about how grief is singular and particular with similar emotions that bring people who went through this together. They even have that crap stages thing and all that. You know what they don’t tell you?’’ Your mouth shuts for a moment, like you are waiting some response. You nod as if whatever you were expecting is handed to you. ‘’Grief can be fucking ridiculous. Who cries because of a burger full of oil and cardiac diseases? Who cries because they found a grocery store recipe under her dead boyfriend’s bed? Who falls on the ground screaming in the middle of the mall because they saw a flannel? Who? Those things are so stupid.’’ You smile like there's no tomorrow and the laugh leaving your lips is a treacherous tone. Perhaps you just aren't build up to express joy anymore. ‘’You see it in the movies and in the books and you think, you know, you think to yourself that grieving is being sad on special dates and randomly remembering the loved ones because of some screaming memory, like a flannel or their perfume. Thing is, it’s not just that. All your body seems so small, so tight for all the ache and agony inside it. Your senses go wild, you are not just one person in one place. You’re just the pain everywhere, like being pulled apart and you beg to jump in the fucking grave with them. At least you would be together, at least you would feel like one person and not suffering edges of a broken earthy thing. And--And you start remembering things you didn’t even know you had mesmerized. I look at the ceiling and remember you saying you’d paint it someday. I look at the kitchen and remember me screaming at you for giving Miracle the rest of the food. I smell Sam’s clothes and started crying because hey, they don’t smell like alcohol. You don’t iron them while drinking anymore, so of course they don’t smell like cheap beer.’’ You are chuckling through the tears and it only makes it more monstrous. ‘’Everything is you now that you are gone. Every man has something similar to you, every garden is green as your eyes, and each step sounds like you are coming home. They didn’t prepare me, not for this.’’ You said breathless. A soft single follows. The knife cuts both ways; the empty breeze and the words hurt. Where's the middle term? Where's the limbo? Where's the only safe place for you to rest your weary head?

Out of nowhere, you blurt out, ‘’I can’t masturbate,’’ I know it’s something stupid and even selfish to say, but I think you’d like to know. I can’t masturbate. That’s a part of the whole losing someone process that people are too ashamed to discuss, or maybe they don’t have the urge to be touched anymore because after someone you love dies, after someone-- the hands who touched are dead and cold, you become a haunted object. That’s how I feel most days, like I’m a haunted house because you touched me and now you’re dead and some days I believe I am too.’’ You look around the places. It's beautiful. It's lonely. It has trees and flowers and green. Not as green as Dean's eyes, but it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't even have eyes at this point. ‘’Well, I can’t masturbate. I can’t touch myself. And I can’t ask someone else either. I tried and ended up punching the guy, Dean. I swear. I panicked when he was between my legs and just punched his nose. You’d have liked it, you were always the jealous kind. I won’t admit that, but I thought it was kinda hot. Especially when you got possessive in sex.’’ A dirty grin appeared on your lips, the echoes of luxury lasting in your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’I don’t think I can be cared for anymore, honestly. Sam tried to hug me when Miracle died and I… It was like I wasn't there. I got frozen in time, and I live in my sleep. In my nightmares you are alive. I  dream about the day you died every week and I used to wake up screaming, but now those nightmares are the only proof you were alive now that you’re as dead as the police report says this time. It was the most painful, calamitous moment for you and I swear it was a nightmare for me, but then I realized that at least I had you there, egoistical or not, I made my nightmare into a dream.’’ You aren't sure which opinion Dean would have on that. Would he understand? Would he shake his head? You wish you can ask him just this one more thing, just beg him to write it down for you on how to be without him here.

You raise on your feet, glaring at the name craved in the concrete. The tears go by still, although they're as usual as the blood in glir veins at this point. ‘’Death is so silly. What it takes, anyway?" Each word conquers more inches of pure wrath. ''People die because they stumbled on their own feet and hit their head somewhere, or they drove their car too close and too fast to the cliff, or because they were giving birth, or because they dated the wrong person, or because they were hunting a fucking vampire and got impaled. What are the chances? How stupid, and idiotic is death? Always creeping and waiting to bite and chew a piece of you-- Taking every scrap of you from me like that’s its right.’’ You are screaming, starting to kick and punch the tombstone with any piece of straight you have. Your limbs hurt and the blood is visible, but you keep going. ‘’YOUR STUPID DOG DIED, DEAN! AND YOU DIED! AND I DIED! SAMMY DIED! YEAH, IS SAID SAMMY! GO AHEAD, TELL ME ONLY YOU CAN CALL HIM THAT.’’ Another punch, your knuckles are ripped. Another kick, your boot as a hole. ‘’DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.’’ Kick. ‘’SAMMY, SAMMY, SAMMY!’’ A punch to each name. Anything to get a reaction, to get comfort. Anything. ‘’YOU CAN’T BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.’’ Gasping for something you don't need anymore, sweet oxygen, your eyes are on the tombstone again. And the definitions. And the trees. Your body is sore and aching. It is the kind and coercion no person wants which you needed; the freedom of feeling outside the exact pain that was inside. ‘’You can’t because you are dead. I’ve been playing some sick games in my mind, you know? Sam stopped hunting and had his closure. He was always better at letting go than you and I, but he’s still hurting. I never saw him hurting so much. I think he knows you won’t come back this time, how could you make us promise something like that?  Well, my twisted game is a bunch of misleading what ifs. What if you hadn’t gone after John? What if you hadn’t gone on that last hunt? What if you had stayed with Lisa? At first I didn’t like her much. Jealous, I admit that. But she grew on me. She gave you something I couldn’t back then and I’ll always be thankful for that. And even though it would rip me apart, I’d rather you to die at sixth after living your suburban dream with her. Have another kid besides Ben, maybe a girl this time, and just have that apple pie life. You and Sam would live close and your kids would always play. They’d be as close as brothers. Maybe I’d get a guy and bring my own kids and we could’ve a barbecue and everyone would be happy. But we don’t get soft epilogues here. It ends how it starts, right? Bloody and desperate. I thought maybe, maybe Lisa could understand what’s going through my head now. I drove to her new address and parked close to her house. I must have spent hours there, thinking if I should come in or not, If she somehow remembered after Castiel died or if I could make her brain work again if I told her the truth. But then I just drove back home and fell asleep wrapped in that stupid lumberjack flannel of yours. The one I always mocked, yeah? She may understand me, but I know you wouldn’t want that. You want her, you want me and Sam to be happy. I don’t know if I can do that, Dean. It’s like myt brittle soul shrewd and my body is just waiting to collapse.’’ You signed, overwhelmed by the battle without an anthem. The victory with no triumph. Is it still a win when you don't have someone to come home too? ‘’Your dog died, it’s the first birthday you didn’t live to see, and I bought all the things you told Mrs Butters you wanted for your birthday because it’s your birthday. I just don’t know how to celebrate it with you dead. People stop counting after they die, right? They just say he’d have been 42 or he died at 41. They give melancholy smiles when they wake up and check the day on their phones and a woe atmosphere swallows them for the rest of the day. Then they get better the next day. I think everyday is your birthday.’’ You attempt to wipe away your tears, which only causes your pulsating hand to stain your face red. ‘’Dean, for the first time, what died stayed dead! Congrats.’’ Once again, a hysterical laugh. ‘’I wish but no. What died didn’t stay dead, you are alive, so alive in my head. I swear you are there some days. I wake and watch the door, so sure you’ll come back. Sam says I’m living in delusion and I have to wake up and keep going since that's what you would want. That's enough to make him keep going, but it only makes me angry. Everyone we know and some strangers looks at me like I'm a house on fire and no longer a warm home, like I'm a car accident. They think I don't notice but I do.’’ You look at your boots, the whole is rolling out blood like your hands. You feel closer to Dean. How sick.

‘’Help, I’m still right where you left me." You plea, his love lingering like a bruise. ''I think gravity is overwhelming and it keeps me here. Sometimes it’s like I’m one of those dusted books Sam used to read. Or those Bukowski ones that you hid, so we wouldn’t see how smart you’re. You tried so hard to hide your intelligence because you didn’t think you were entitled to it. You saw yourself as the protector and never the valuable one for protection. You, the man who made an EMF out of an old radio, who rebuilt the Impala from the ground multiple times, and who knew patterns better than any detective. The man who showed me I could rely on someone other than myself. The dude with a lopsided grin, tough hands and a heart of gold. I miss you so much. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing all those classic rock songs and Taylor Swift pop hits, while I drove here. I would think you were home, smelling like guts because you wanted to eat before taking a shower after a hunt. I would think that you are in the Deancave, waiting for me to curl up on your lap to watch Scooby Doo or Doctor Sexy MD until we aren’t watching anymore. If I didn’t know better I would think no death could take you from me. There would be no tear us apart in our vows.’’ The only thing that keeps your organism working is that Dean died knowing how much you loved him. You never let this talk for later or never. No tomorrow is promised. That's a nice comfort, maybe that's what will help you to let go in the future. ‘’But yesterday your stupid, skink dog died and I lost the last living thing that I had from you. You know what’s more angerting? I cried and Sam cried and I noticed we were the living things you left behind and all we have is each other. All your closets of backlogged dreams were left for us-- so yeah. Sam is done hunting and he’s met a lovely girl, and they are moving in like in your domestic dreams. I’m taking care of the family business like your other contradictory dream and making sure Sam is safe enough to be normal. Because I have to, we have too. Stupidly enough, I still wait for the day you’ll burst out the door and tell us to hit the road again. I still watch every episode of your dumb tv shows to make sure I’ll know everything that happened when you ask. I still drive around in your car and close my eyes when the street is calm, only picturing you driving as Baby’s engineers go wild but those are my hands on the steering wheel. If I didn't know better, I’d think you are still around. But I know better. I still feel you all around. I love you.’’

Your monologuing ends as astutely as it stated. You get up, press a kiss to your ruined for the next weeks hands and place it on the rock with writings. You turn around and walk back to the car that you parked near, only in case of Dean wanting to see Baby. How knows? You and your clandestine faith. You lick your lip and get in the car.

You swear you the AC/DC cassette wasn't there before, but when you turn on the car and the radio it starts playing. It's the first true smile that comes to your mouth, it's bloodstained and you look like a shameless woman. With that you can deal.

It hurts a bearable hurt for now. You didn't think it was possible. Maybe someday.

The end.

(she takes a little longer to arive in heaven than sammy. his baby brother says that women are most likely to live around six years more than men. it doesn't ease him up, though. dean waited sam for too long, his platonic soulmate. and now he has to wait his romantic one too? the eldest Winchester considers it the best earthly present when the he sense you around, that smell of orange and apples. it's you, he knows before even turning around. he can't wait to love you again. your name rolls off your tongue so naturally, as if you had seen each other just yesterday: ‘’hey, y/n.’’)

But then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?

REBLOG AND COMMENT. Feedback is magic and helps me!

Starburst's footnote: It just didn't feel right to make an author's note on the top. I wanted it all only to be an arrow to the story. So, this is my side note: it's six am and I'm up writing this after inspiration kissed me with a bruise in the middle of the night. Or more like grabbed my throat. Anyway, I had to write and finish this one to post today, even pushing sleep aside. Hey, we are writers, that's what we do! I've been watching the show since I was eleven and I cried like a baby with the finale. This series was just so important and crucial to molde aspects of relationships for me. The song marjorie by Taylor Swift was used here, and so was the line "you got my devotion/ but man, I can hate you sometimes" by Harry Styles. I told you guys I would use it somewhere! A special thanks to @msmarvelouswinchester​ who helped me with her encouraging and opinon. You are the best! And with all of this I wanna say: Happy bday, Dean Winchester!

REBLOG AND COMMENT! Feedback is magic! Especially about this fic, I’d like to know your opinion. Tags in the reblog! Send an ask or dm to get in the taglist.

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 5,103 Gabriel x Reader Warnings: none! A/N: This is part of a series! Read Part 1 first!

Your name: submit What is this?

The first door standing open down the long hallway was obviously your bedroom, and Gabriel wasn’t shy about stepping inside. At first, he simply stood in the center and glanced around eagerly, bouncing a little on his feet as he surveyed the space.

Cas followed him in much more tentatively, but curious as to what his purpose was.

“This is it, huh?” He strolled over to the small desk in one corner and picked up an open notebook and some loose papers, studying them closely. Apparently, nothing there really held his interest because he abandoned them quickly and started sliding open desk drawers.

“This is—I think this is what humans would call an ‘invasion of privacy,’” Cas said.

“Gabriel, I really don’t think you should—” Cas tried to argue, but the archangel simply shushed him and opened the cover. He ran his fingers over your handwriting—the impressions were deep on the page and he liked the slanting, hurried cursive. “Ghouls in Minnesota, Vampire in New York, Werewolf in Arkansas… This is nothing but hunting notes,” he said with disappointment, flipping through the pages.

“What did you expect?” Cas asked him.

“Something with a little more insight into who Y/N is, perhaps,” Gabriel said, shutting and typing the journal closed again and replacing it in the false bottom of your drawer, kicking it closed with his boot. “Hopes, dreams, roots, deepest secrets… that sort of thing,” he said.

Cas’s brow drew down low over his eyes again. “Knowing Y/N, I seriously doubt you will find any of that in writing in here…”

“Well, that’s just wishful thinking. Best case scenario. I will just have to get creative,” he said. Gabriel spun and looked at the small bedside table. There was a novel sitting on it and he grabbed it, opening it to the bookmark. “Y/N is an avid reader, hmm?” he said, more to himself than to Cas. “This is an ambitious read.” He studied the bookmark which was a folded piece of paper. When he opened it, it was a printed photo of you, Sam and Dean, and Cas. Sam had his arm draped over your shoulders and all of you were smiling for once. Gabriel stared at it for a long moment and Cas watched his expression soften into a thoughtful, faraway look. Finally, he folded it up again gently and replaced it in the novel, leaving it on your side table just the way he had found it.

Next, Gabriel went over to the dresser and glanced at Cas with a smirk on his face. “You know, it’s strange but most humans keep their delicate underthings in the exact same place—top drawer—” he said, grasping the handle.

Cas slammed his hand into the drawer keeping it closed and Gabriel looked at him in surprise. “I really think you’ve done enough spying.” Cas’s voice and expression were stern now, but it only elicited a mischievous glint in Gabriel’s golden eyes.

“Spying? I’m just trying to get to know this Y/N better,” Gabriel argued, doing his best to sound innocent. “I mean, so far all I know is she’s related to the two meatheads and hangs around with you. And, though it may be a surprise to you, that doesn’t actually tell me anything I’d like to know.”

“If you want to get to know her, why don’t you just go visit her now? Or wait and meet her when she’s back.”

Gabriel gave Cas a skeptical look. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Sam and Dean will have no problem with me sniffing around their Baby Sister. They’re not known to be particularly suspicious or protective.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Especially after all those Dead Dean Days…”

Cas grimaced a little at the thought. “Well… you also saved them by facing Lucifer. They will not have forgotten that. You redeemed yourself, at least in part,” Cas said, tilting his head in his familiar habit.

The archangel looked surprisingly uncomfortable with Cas’s sincerity. “Fine. Enough snooping. Come on, brother,” he said, laying a heavy hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Let’s grab a drink and you can tell me all about losing your grace and what mortality feels like.”

Cas frowned, but he didn’t object. He was glad just to get Gabriel out of your room…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Several weeks later

You leaned your head back on the pillows and let out a frustrated groan. “UGH! Where is this doctor?!” you demanded.

Sam gave you a look. “I’m sure he’s on his way,” he said gently, trying to placate you.

You threw off your blankets and climbed out of the hospital bed onto your feet, moving a little hunched over as you rolled your IV stand with you.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey!” Dean jumped up and stopped you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I can’t stay in that bed another minute or I’m gonna lose it!”

“We’re not even sure if you’re going to get released today, so you might as well get used to the idea that you may have to stay in that bed for a couple more days,” he retorted. “So, get back in bed!”

You vehemently pointed a finger in his face. “HEY. You’re not my doctor! You don’t get to boss me around!”

Dean drew himself up to his full height and gave you a severe look.

You didn’t waver. “I’m not scared of you!”

This drew a laugh from Sam and when you glanced over he was shaking his head. “Y/N, please just at least sit down. I’m sure the doctor—”

“—is in!” As if on cue your doctor strolled through the door, you chart in his hand. He gave you a big smile. “Alright, Y/N. Hop back up on the bed again, would you? Let’s see how you’re doing.”

He hadn’t even examined your incision yet and the words were spilling out of you. “Can I go home today?” you asked urgently.

This elicited a laugh from him and he gave you an appraising look. “As soon as I know, you’ll know,” he said diplomatically.

You tried to be a good patient and sit perfectly still as he checked your incision but you couldn’t help fidgeting and chewing your bottom lip. The doctor straightened back up and crossed his arms. “Well, no sign of infection. Incision seems to be healing nicely, so—” “YES!” you exclaimed.

“SO,” he continued through a smile, “I’m going to release you but with very strict instructions. I need you to really hear me right now, Y/N. Okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes. I’m listening.”

“NO lifting anything heavier than a few pounds—you know what, no lifting anything, okay? Absolutes seem safer with you. And you are NOT to be doing anything physical for 3 more weeks, at which time you can start with some easy physical activity. Long walks, some stretching, that kind of stuff. And you will need to get another post-op check-up around then too.”

You nodded. “Okay. I got it.”

“Now, your brothers here ARE now in charge since I can’t be there to keep you in line,” he said, a knowing smile on his face. He must have overheard you and Dean from the hallway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you argued.

“I’m not kidding. You need to let them take care of you. And you two,” he said, pointing at Sam and Dean in turn, “need to make sure she rests.”

A gruff laugh escaped Dean. “Easier said than done.”

“I know,” the doctor said. “I’ve been dealing with her for only about a month. You two have been dealing with her for a lifetime,” he joked, shooting you a glance.

“I’m right here, you know!” you burst out. “I can hear everything you’re saying!”

The doctor laughed and held out a hand to you. “Y/N, it’s been a pleasure to watch you recover. Now be well, and rest.”

This time you didn’t have anything snarky to say and just grasped his hand in yours and shook it. “Thank you. For… not letting me die and stuff.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re welcome. Gentleman,” he turned to Sam and Dean who both shook his hand and thanked him repeatedly. “The nurse will be in shortly to take care of that IV and check you out. Take care.”

You watched him go with a triumphant smile on your face. Sam and Dean both looked a little anxious, however. “Oh, come on, guys! He said I’m fine. We can go home!”

“You heard the doctor though. Seriously, Y/N. You’re on house arrest,” Dean said forcefully.

“Whatever. I don’t even care. Just get me out of here,” you said climbing down to your feet again. Soon a nurse came in and removed your IV. You kicked Sam and Dean out of the room so you could change out of your hospital gown for the first time in what felt like years. Another few minutes and you were stepping into the hallway, a huge grin on your face.

Sam shouldered your bag and gave you an appraising look. “You alright?” You were still a little hunched over. Straightening up completely still made you sore.

“I’m great,” you said. “Look! I’m wearing actual clothes!” You glanced down at the sweatpants and t-shirt you had pulled on. “Sort of.”

Dean couldn’t help smiling at you fondly while shaking his head. “You sure you don’t want me to go grab a wheelchair? It’s a bit of a walk.”

You scowled at him.

“I’m being serious, Y/N,” Dean said, the gravel in his voice deepening. “You’ve only done short walks around the floor.”

“There is no way in hell you’re getting me in a wheelchair.”

You managed to make it out to the Impala, though Dean had insisted on driving right up to the exit to pick you up. You slid into the back seat and sighed. “Oh, I missed you, Baby,” you said out loud, sinking in to the familiar seat and breathing in that particular smell that always made you remember road trips and hunts and late-night cheeseburgers.

Dean smiled at you in the rearview mirror. He lowered his voice and turned to Sam. “You talk to Cas?” he asked in an undertone.

“No. It still just keeps going straight to voicemail,” Sam said. “But he texted me again… to explain the origins of pineapple,” Sam said, a tight smile on his face. “It took like 30 texts.”

“What the hell is going on with him? He’s been weirder than usual.”

“Well, he has been trapped at the bunker alone for kind of a long time…” Sam said.

“He could have talked with us if he would ever answer his goddamn phone,” Dean countered, turning onto the highway. “Maybe he’s finally cracked.���

“Who?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your hands on the back of the front seat.

“Nobody,” Dean said. You scoffed.

“That’s convincing…” you said under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Why don’t you just focus on getting all healed up and let Sammy and me worry about everything else, alright?”

“You know, it’s weird, but my cells do that part pretty much on their own. It doesn’t require much conscious thought on my part. So, if someone has cracked—”

“Nobody’s cracked,” Dean said gruffly, hands steady on the wheel.

“You just said—"

“I just said nothing for you to worry about,” Dean said finally.

You let out a frustrated growl and changed tactics. “Fine. I’ll change the subject,” you said smugly.

“Thank you…”

“Any news on Gabriel?” you asked loudly, sinking back into your seat comfortably.

There was a long, silent pause from the front seat and you could see that Dean’s grip on the steering wheel had tightened.

Sam turned partially around, one arm on the seat back and looked at you. “You know there isn’t.” “No, I don’t know that. You two are obviously keeping something from me, so I think it is fair to assume you’re keeping other stuff from me too.”

“We really don’t know anything about Gabriel,” Sam said, sincerity written all over his face.

You chewed your bottom lip anxiously. Sam took in your expression. “Have you—seen him again?” he asked.

“No. No, nothing like that but since that happened, I just have this feeling—he said we would be seeing each other again and it’s like, in my core, I know that’s true.” You looked up and caught Sam’s eyes, they were steady on your face and narrowed slightly in concern. “I know that doesn’t make any sense and I know you and Dean said he’s gone but it’s such a strong feeling. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“I believe you,” Sam said. “For now, I guess we just have to wait…”

Many hours later, Dean finally pulled the Impala into the underground garage at the bunker and opened the door for you. Inside, an archangel and a graceless angel perked up as they heard noise in the garage. Cas shot upright and glanced over at Gabriel, who only smiled serenely back at him.

“Showtime!”

Cas gave him an apprehensive look and started off in the direction of the garage immediately. Gabriel followed, but at a leisurely pace, seemingly completely unconcerned.

But Cas didn’t know that this was mostly an act. There was a strange sensation in Gabriel’s chest and it was growing the closer he came to the moment when he would see you—meet you—for real this time, not in some mind dreamscape. He couldn’t even explain to himself why but he felt that this moment was going to change everything for him in some way—he knew no reason why that would be true. He had been fascinated with you since he first became aware again and had been thrust into some role connected with you… but he had this feeling, like a heavy block of cement in the middle of his chest sitting on top of his heart which was maddening in its oddity. It was like expectation and something more had solidified and despite all his trying he couldn’t shift it.

Dean pushed through the door into the bunker trailed closely by you, and then Sam hauling your bag and his own. “Cas?!” Dean roared. “Are you alive in here?”

Cas came hurrying around a corner in the hallway and his expression stopped all of you dead in your tracks. His blue eyes were wide and his face was quite pale, further making the shocking blue stand out.

“…what’s going on?” Dean asked. He was immediately reaching for his pistol.

“Don’t panic, but there’s someone here—”

“How is that supposed to make me not panic?!”

“Cas, do I need to get Y/N out of here?” Sam demanded over your shoulder, already trying to move around you to shield you protectively.

You were surprisingly quiet and Dean looked over his shoulder at you. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “Cas, who is it?” you asked quietly.

He only swallowed at the tightness in his throat and opened his mouth to offer some kind of explanation, but no sound came out. You felt like you didn’t really need him to answer anyway. You already knew.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

A second figure now came around the corner and Dean dropped his duffel bag where he stood, his fists clenched.

“Welcome home, Winchester Clan!” Gabriel said cheerfully, his arms spread wide.

There was just a stretch of tense silence between all of you which the archangel finally broke again. “Dean, if you wouldn’t mind just stepping a liiiittle bit to your right so I can—”

“What the hell are you doing here? How are you here?!” Dean demanded, his jaw tensing.

“That’s how you want to start this?” Gabriel asked, a grimace on his face. “Come on, Dean. I’m here to help. I’m not here to kill you over and over again. Not this time. I promise. Scout’s honor.” He made a small cross over his heart with one finger. Gabriel tilted his head, trying to look around Dean to get a better view of you, but it wasn’t necessary because the next moment you stepped around him slowly.

He couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his face. You found the golden light in his eyes staggering, just as you remembered it from your vision.

“…you,” was all you could get out. Sam and Dean exchanged a tense glance.

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet and slipped his hands into his pockets, actually the result of nerves, but he was hoping it just made him look nonchalant and nonplussed. “Me.”

“You’re—but you’re… What are you doing here?” you asked quietly.

“I told you we’d be seeing each other again, didn’t I? You didn’t believe me?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow at you. You didn’t answer, just peered at him intensely.

He inclined his chin a little as he studied you. “Here—” he said. He moved around Cas and started toward you but was immediately met with loud yells and threats from the Sam and Dean causing him to stop abruptly and raise his hands, palms out. “Guys, guys, guys! Would you two just chill? Really! After all we’ve been through… I’d like to heal what’s left of that nasty gunshot wound if Y/N will let me. Or are you opposed to that? Because she’s in a lot more pain than she’s letting on. I’m guessing she’s hiding it so you two won’t go all crazy protective over her for the rest of her life.”

“No, I’m not!” you argued. Gabriel gave you a skeptical look.

“I can feel it,” he said. When he spoke those words there was something almost desperate in them. “Let me heal you. Please.”

You swallowed hard at the nervous lump in your throat and stepped around Dean again, giving him a small glance. “It’s okay,” you said.

Gabriel stopped right in front of you and gently touched two fingers to your forehead.

You straightened up immediately and breathed in a deep breath, completely filling your lungs, something you hadn’t been able to do without pangs of pain since you’d been shot. Your shoulders relaxed and you gave him a grateful but perplexed look. “Thanks.”

“Welcome home,” he said again, but this time it was quiet, like it was only for your ears. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the fingertips that had just touched your skin. They felt strange, almost like the sensation when your foot falls asleep.

Dean suddenly interrupted the moment by pushing past Gabriel and heading toward the front of the bunker at high speed. Cas turned and jogged to catch up with him, wilting a little under the scowl Dean sent his way.

“Cas, you couldn’t have given us a heads up?” Dean asked angrily.

“You don’t think I tried? He broke every single phone I had and all the new ones I managed to get a hold of. And it’s not exactly like I could just fly over, is it?” he finished bitterly.

Sam stopped next to the two of them and dropped his duffel bag. “So… all those weird texts weren’t from you,” he said with sudden understanding.

Cas looked confused. “What? Weird texts? No. What weird texts?”

The Winchesters and Cas suddenly heard laughter behind them and turned to see Gabriel standing in the doorway with a satisfied smirk. Their expressions were stern.

“Oh, come on! That series of texts about the fuzzy toilet seat lid covers? The ‘bedtime thoughts’ texts? Pure genius on my part. You have to see the humor in this!” Gabriel simply watched as the muscles in their jaws twitched.

Dean rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Goddammit. What the hell is going on?” He turned and looked to Sam who was still just staring in Gabriel’s direction with somewhat wide eyes.

“It’s really not that complicated, Dean. I was sent back to watch out for Y/N. And that’s really all I know.”

This caused deep wrinkles in both Sam and Dean’s foreheads. “Okay, first of all, your definition of ‘not complicated’ could use some adjustment. I would say a DEAD archangel coming back to life is pretty complicated. Second, why does she need anyone more than us watching out for her?” Dean growled.

“Well, seeing as she was just shot and almost died I don’t think I need to really answer that question,” Gabriel snarked back.

Dean’s jaw and fists tensed and Cas stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from attempting to throttle the archangel. Gabriel only smiled serenely.

“That wasn’t their fault,” you argued, having just appeared behind Gabriel in the doorway, feeling sick again because you knew your brothers were already blaming themselves. “It could have been any one of us.”

“But it wasn’t,” Gabriel pointed out.

You looked suddenly weary. “I don’t know why we’re still talking about this at all. I’m completely fine. Better than fine now that I’m magically healed me up. I feel like there are more important things we should be discussing.”

Gabriel raised a finger, like he had a sudden idea. “You’re right. Chiefly, I need to know everything about you. Your likes, your dislikes, formative childhood experiences, deepest darkest secrets—”

You crossed your arms over your chest and were about to snark something back at the archangel but Dean beat you to it. “Alright. That’s enough!” he growled. “You were supposedly sent here to protect her, not be a total creep. You’ve just met her and you’re already trying to invade her privacy,” he said gruffly, his green eyes piercing on the angel’s face.

“Well, technically I think he already—” Cas tried to stop himself but it was too late and your eyes snapped over to Gabriel as he winced and anxiously ran a hand through his hair. Your mouth was hanging partially open and your expression was incredulous.

“What the hell did you do?” you demanded. When he didn’t answer and only shrugged vaguely, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a frown, you turned to Cas again who was doing his best to look anywhere but in your direction. “Cas… Cas! Look at me!”

Gabriel spun and locked his eyes on Cas as well. “Brother, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet…” he said through his teeth, keeping a forced smile fixed on his face.

“We all know you aren’t good at lying, Cas. Even a lie of omission. Are you really going to lie to me? After everything I’ve just been through?” You purposely tugged on his heartstrings and walked toward him so he had no choice but to glance at you as you moved closer. “Cas, I almost died. And you’re not going to tell me what this archangel who is supposedly here to watch out for me was up to?”

Gabriel shot you a look that was both a little stunned and impressed. “That’s low,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him and then turned back to Cas again.

You could see the internal turmoil crescendoing until it finally burst out of him. “He went through some of your things in your room. I tried to stop him but—”

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed, his jaw clenching with anger. Dean shut his eyes against the rising tide of rage and his fists tightened. `

Your jaw dropped open again and you turned back to Gabriel and away from a very conflicted-looking Castiel. “What the hell!?” you demanded angrily. “Haven’t you heard of privacy? What exactly gave you the right to go through my room?”

He looked a tinge guilty for a moment before rearranging his features into a questioning expression. “Well, I think I should know a little about my charge—”

You shot a glare at him that was piercing and Gabriel felt his throat tighten. “Your charge? Let’s get one thing straight right now… I’m not your ‘charge’. You do not get to boss me around or make decisions for me.”

Gabriel tilted his head and gave you a peculiar look. “Well… strictly speaking I don’t think that’s true… You see, I’m supposed to protect you which means that I get to decide—”

You interrupted him angrily. “No. No, you don’t get to decide.” You looked at Cas and your brothers who all looked pretty unhappy about what had just played out. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” As you started down the hall, you heard his footsteps following behind you and as you reached the door to your room you spun to face him. “What do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

Gabriel looked around as if he was expecting you to be talking to someone other than him, but he saw no one else. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m just doing my job. You said you’re going to bed so I’m going to watch over you and—”

You angrily bit the inside of your cheek. “No. You’re not. You can stay the hell away from me while I sleep. You’re not setting foot in my room again.”

“Oh, come on! Y/N, please. You’re not really mad about—”

You turned abruptly and slammed the door in his face. Okay, so maybe you were really mad… “You know I can just appear in your room! I’m an archangel. An oak door isn’t—” The door whipped open again and you stood there fuming.

“Go away.” Your voice was quiet but Gabriel could easily hear the anger in it and for now he decided just to back off. You slammed the door in his face again and he sighed heavily, running a hand back through his hair.

Sometime later, Cas wandered down the hall and found Gabriel sitting on the floor, his back up against the wall just beside your shut door, his legs stretched out in front of him. Gabriel looked at him as he approached.

Cas didn’t say anything, just took a seat beside the archangel on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him and staring at his shoes. Gabriel broke the silence first. “Look how far I’ve come,” he said, his tone clearly sarcastic. “I used to lead legions and now I’ve been assigned as some kind of glorified babysitter and here I am, a fallen archangel, sitting on the floor outside her door.”

“You probably wouldn’t be sitting here on the floor if you hadn’t botched that meeting with Y/N so spectacularly,” Cas mused. To his surprise the archangel actually laughed and glanced over at him.

“Yeah, I think you’re right about that, Castiel.” Gabriel sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “I have a tendency toward self-destructive behavior.”

“When I was an angel, I mean—with my grace, so did I,” Cas said. “Perhaps there is something about being so-called ‘immortal’ that makes us reckless with our own lives.”

Gabriel sighed again heavily. “Perhaps.”

Cas looked over at him and he could see genuine worry on his brother’s face. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine in the morning. She’s tough. Strong. But kind-hearted. She’ll let you make up for it.” Cas fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “I see such a mixture of Sam and Dean in her.”

This only drew Gabriel’s brow down more deeply. “That’s what I’m worried about,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know why I was sent to protect her, but I do know how reckless the Winchesters are with their lives. And all without a single drop of grace.”

Cas’s lips curved ever so slightly in a thoughtful smile. “Yes. But selfless.”

Gabriel glanced over at his brother and felt a pang in his heart for his graceless friend. “Do you miss your trench coat and suit?” he asked him.

Cas’s eyes lifted in surprise at the question and he glanced down at his sweatshirt, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve. “I do. But… it felt wrong wearing it somehow. Like being in a suit of armor while not on the battlefield.”

Gabriel nodded and leaned his head back against the wall. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before he broke it. “I’m sorry for being such a dick since I arrived. All the phones… all the lying… all the snooping. It’s strange to say but I had a level of-—anxiety,” he tilted his head in a question, not even entirely sure that was the right word for what he had been feeling, “about meeting Y/N. And I still messed it up.”

Cas sighed again and patted a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Tomorrow is a new day.” He climbed to his feet and looked down at the archangel, a strange sight sitting like a child on the floor during time-out. “Tomorrow. Goodnight, brother.”

[hellhoundsprey]

No. 5 - I’VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER

betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose

a/b/o dynamics, omega!dean, beta!cas, doctor!cas, alpha!sam, always female sam, jealousy, violence, claiming bites, mentioned mpreg, implied past rape

~

~

Sam doesn’t try to evade the punch. No: she welcomes it.

The sound is as nauseating as it is satisfying. It’s Dean who ends up yelping. Castiel winces from a not-so-safe distance.

“You happy?! Huh?!” Dean cradles his hand. Sam remains apathetic until the blood shoots up her sinuses. She chokes, covers her mouth. Leans away to spit, and her nose looks broken, and Castiel tells them so, and Dean says, gravelly: “Good.”

Castiel tends to both siblings. The misery in Sam’s scent doesn’t quite outpower her general satisfaction over what she’s done. Castiel clenches his teeth and finishes patching her up. Clean break. Her face swells rapidly.

“You know I had to do it,” the Alpha repeats, her huge hand careful on Castiel’s healthy arm—he flinches, regardless. Sam blinks. A little girl in there, somewhere. From ages ago. Tender, if she chooses to be. “They would have sniffed it out. I had to.”

Just because Sam is right doesn’t make it right.

Dean continues to withdraw. Barely responds, refuses to drink. It’s ninety degrees in the car and Castiel has to climb into the back with the Omega to hook him up with another IV. Sam keeps facing the steering wheel, but her eyes do flicker to the rearview an awful lot.

If Dean’s body could, it would wind out and away from every touch. Castiel can’t omit much from his already-careful ministrations. There is only so much space he can give Dean, now. Even if they do make it to their destination tonight, forcing Dean push through will be a gamble with his life.

They make it. Castiel grabs his bags and gives the Jeep a last, grateful pat on the overheated hood before they leave it behind. The stolen plates they don’t bother to take with them.

The border patrol gives them an understandably curious look. Castiel smacks their passports down onto the narrow surface in front of their window.

“We got mugged. Please proceed. He needs medical attention.”

The patrol’s eyes switch back and forth between the papers and Sam and Dean. The weak whistle whenever Dean manages a breath, the steel of Sam’s eyes, her posture. Dean’s limp arm over her shoulders, her hold—on him. Carrying, like Castiel had done, back at the house. Ages ago, it feels like, instead of the actual twenty-something hours. Castiel nods at Sam, and Sam doesn’t nod back, but they get their passports and they continue, and nobody stops them.

Castiel’s contacts arranged everything as discussed. Sam is visibly taken aback, but she doesn’t address Castiel until after they put Dean to bed, until after Castiel set him up as best he could to ensure Dean makes it through the night. When he turns to stand, Sam is already there, waiting. In the door frame, her arms crossed. She took her jacket off, finally. They lock eyes, and Castiel can tell the Alpha isn’t out for a fight, not now, and he can only hope it’ll stay that way. At least until Dean is conscious again. Or, better yet: stable.

“Sorry about your arm,” she says, in the kitchen, trailing him. Water. Food. They should eat. Castiel searches the cabinets for something quick and substantial. “I’m real sorry, man. I’ve never… I had no idea I could get like that. Seriously.”

Castiel turns to face Sam. She cringes, seems to hold onto her arms more than keeping them crossed. Her left eye is swollen so bad she must barely be able to see out of it. Part of Castiel delights for the sight.

It’s dark, blue. Deep night, faint music from a tourist dive bar across the street. Terracotta tiles. Like a vacation home, because it is. Was. Is, sometimes, when it’s not used for situations like—theirs. Now.

“What you did was incredibly stupid. You almost killed him. I fear less about my arm than about the risk you obviously pose to your own brother, Sam.”

Sam winces. She seems smaller, now, with all her fuses blown, with her brother marked and barely-alive in a bed behind an ajar door but at least he’s safe, at least they—made it this far. Castiel caves, frowns; puts down the cans of food. They should sleep. They should all just—sleep.

“What—were you thinking? I had it all set up, we were gonna give him suppressors, pheromones, it wasn’t—Christ, you’re his sister, not his—”

“I had to.” Castiel stares, but Sam just keeps shaking her head, staring back. “I had to, doc, I… When I saw him, caught his scent again, I knew I—I’m not taking any more chances. I’m just not.”

Castiel sighs. He frowns down at the cans, gestures. Sleep. Eat. You don’t have to think. In fact, you can’t, so what’s the point? “Would you help me with this, please?” he asks, and the Alpha’s rigid stare dips a little softer with it. She steps in as Castiel steps back to lean against the kitchen counter, to drag his healthy hand down his face. Sleep. Just this, then you can sleep. “I can’t exactly—do it with one hand. … Thank you.”

The sleep Castiel finds that night is shallow, but it suffices in making him clear enough to look after Dean like Dean needs. Castiel moves quietly on habit. Sam snores through her broken nose on the floor next to the bed on the side where Castiel is not working. She took off her boots at some point, her jeans. Dragged a sheet and a pillow from a linen closet, because Castiel on the couch surely didn’t notice. Castiel counts Dean’s heartbeats. He exchanges the IV bag and the bedpan. When he returns with the washed-out latter, Sam is awake, sitting on the bed. Holding Dean’s hand, the bruised one. Castiel narrows his eyes and proceeds with his care. Sam doesn’t try to interfere.

“Move, please,” Castiel says. Sam just looks at him. Castiel points at the bandages Sam’s thumbs are skirting around oh-so-carefully. “I need to change the dressing. Yours, too, while I’m at it.”

Sam suffers, but she only moans about it a tiny bit, fully aware that this is of her own making. Broken noses are nasty, though. Castiel hands her something for the headache. She swallows it dry without hesitation.

“You are very much alike, I will give you that.”

“Yeah. I mean, he raised me, basically.” Sam nods, still drowsy with sleep. If Castiel asked, she might fix them a round of coffee. “After Mom died, and then after Dad disappeared…it was just us. We only had each other.”

“‘Disappeared’?”

“Loan sharks.”

Castiel deflates, nods. He sits back down with Sam, runs his hand back over his head, his messy, grimy hair. He looks back at Dean. Sam does, too.

“When Michael came and found us, when he saw—Dean, it was a done deal. Was supposed to be about paying back, he said, at first, but Dean never came back, so I figured.” In Castiel’s peripheral, Sam nods. Slow, deep in thought. In memories. Dean’s face is perfectly motionless in his sleep. A false peacefulness, but a peacefulness at last. “I searched, but I never came up with anything. Nothing. Not one hint where they were. So, eventually, I thought: okay, I’ll go into law, I’ll find sources and contacts, and I’ll… And now, he’s just—here.” She blinks, fascinated. She again holds Dean’s hand in hers. “It’s crazy. I never thought I’d…”

She doesn’t continue. She doesn’t have to.

~

Everything takes Dean time. More time than he’d like. Sam has to actively hold him down when Castiel breaks it to him that no, he can’t stand up yet. Dean likes that even less.

“Are you kidding?! Why did you get me out of that damn hole if I can’t even use my own fucking LEGS now?!”

Castiel warns, “You will fall and you will hurt yourself,” and Dean proves his point once they leave him to calm down. He growls, snarls. Feral, a fox with a beartrap on its leg, and as useless as Castiel’s, “Dean, please be logical about this,” is, Sam’s open-handed slap to Dean’s cheek is effective.

Castiel flinches; gawps. Stares at Sam, who is calm, pinched; and Dean is shocked too but he stops arguing, at last. Lets them haul him back into bed, still obviously angry and denying any further conversation or contact, but there is no other accident when Castiel and Sam leave once more. The lack of remorse in Sam’s scent sours Castiel. He’s never—siblings, for Christ’s sake. Orphans, left to their own devices, but—this is mayhem. As if Dean hadn’t gotten his fill with Michael already.

In the kitchen, subdued but pressing: “You will stop disciplining him in that way. I will not allow it.”

“Or what?”

“Or I—Jesus, girl, he was locked in a cell, for years, by a pathological sadist! What else do you have to know in order to NOT press every single one of his trauma response buttons?! Jesus Christ—” Castiel paces to the kitchen counter. He doesn’t put much care into being tender with the coffee machine. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you Winchester lot sure goddamn know how to be fucking sensible.”

[fics-of-culture]

Angelic Affections

Requested by anonymous

Gabriel x GN Reader

Summary: When Gabriel’s favorite human gets in an accident, Gabriel is forced to deal with his fear of loosing them as well as his own shortcomings. Slight angst with fluff ending.

Words: 2,876

You hummed softly to yourself as you stood in your room packing up your go bag. Your brother Sammy had stormed into the kitchen abruptly interrupting yours and Dean’s breakfast not 20 minutes ago with a new case. 

“So get this,” Sam said as he stormed in, laptop in hand. “A string of mysterious deaths all revolving around an old, seemingly abandoned house in Nevada.” You groan in frustration, pushing away your half eaten cereal. How hard was it to get a nice morning with your brothers without having to worry about some ghost or ghoul interrupting it? 

“Haunted?” Dean asked, only half paying attention. He took a sip of his coffee, looking awfully comfortable in his robe with his feet propped up on the table the two of you were seated at.

“Seems like it.” Sam replied, scrolling through an article on his laptop. 

“You know the drill,” Dean slowly dragged his legs off of the kitchen table as he stood. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

“You’ve been watching too many procedural cop shows, Dean.” You chime in as you stand up as well, turning to head to your room. Sam chuckled as Dean just scoffed indignantly at you.

“You know I hate that shit.” He muttered to himself. You just send your older brother a shit eating smile before heading out of the kitchen and into your bedroom. 

You turn towards your dresser to pull out a pair of socks when your eye catches on the picture frame resting on top. It’s a polaroid of you and Gabe dressed in terrible matching Christmas sweaters grinning like a couple of dorks in front of a fireplace. You smiled at the memory. Gabe had gotten you a polaroid camera for Christmas last year after you complained that the angels had never had their photos taken before. 

“I don’t see why that is an issue.” Cas had said, as oblivious as ever. The three of you were sitting on a couch in the DeanCave. You sat in between the two angels, body angled to face the befuddled angel.

“Well what if there’s a moment in your life that you never want to forget? It’s like being able to preserve the happiest times in your life.” Cas cocked his head at you as Gabe listened intently. You would’ve expected him to tease you for being so passionate about this, but he seems content just to watch the conversation unfold.

“An angel’s memory does not degrade like human’s do. We have no need for such reminders.” You just groan in frustration as Gabe chuckles beside you.

“That’s not the point, Cas.” Castiel just kept looking at you with that confused expression. You let out a sigh before shaking your head, defeated by Cas’s lack of understanding.

“Good luck with that one, honey. I think Cassy here is a lost cause.” The archangel places his hand on your knee as Cas casts a small glare towards him.

It wasn’t long after that incident that you opened one of your presents during Christmas to find the vintage camera. Upon opening it, Gabriel immediately insisted that the two of you take a photo. You put in the film as Gabe knelt beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against him.

“Come on! Let’s take the picture already!” Gabriel exclaimed impatiently. He had been hyperactive all morning (You suspected that he had been sneaking Christmas cookies when you weren’t watching) and it was becoming difficult to keep up with him.

“Give me a second! I need to set it up first.” Gabriel simply tugged the camera out of your hands. Truly the angel didn’t have a patient bone in his celestial body. He flicked the camera on and you only had a brief moment to smile at it before the picture was taken. The flash had caught you both by surprise and had you blinking the spots out of your eyes for the next few minutes. But when the picture came out, you couldn’t deny that it was perfect. You had taken several photos of your boys that day, but only that photo had gotten its own frame and a special place upon your dresser. 

Suddenly you feel a presence behind you. A warm breath brushes against the back of your neck and the hairs on your arms stand up. Despite knowing that you should be attacking the intruder, a part of you felt calmed by the presence behind you. So instead you just waited to see what would happen. 

“Whatya lookin’ at there, sugar?” You let out a sigh of relief as you recognized Gabe’s voice whispering in your ear. You can’t help but feel a blush stain your cheeks as you noticed just how close he was standing. You turn around and shove him away from you in retaliation for sneaking up on you. You avoid his eyes as he shoots you a playfully offended look. 

“I was looking at that dorky expression on your face.” You tell him as you gesture to the photo. You continue your task of packing as Gabe picks up the picture frame to take a better look.

“Well excuse me princess, but I see two dorky faces in this picture.” You just rolled your eyes as he shakes the photo in your direction. Focusing back at the task at hand, you bend over your bed to place your socks in your pack. With your back turned to the trickster angel, you miss the way his eyes slide down your form before quickly turning away to place the photo back down. 

“I still don’t see why you wanted that picture taken so badly. I’m pretty sure my hair wasn’t even combed!” You turned to look at your angel. His whiskey colored eyes were crinkled in amusement.

“Does an angel need a reason to want to take a picture with his favorite human?” You playfully rolled your eyes as he said this. It wasn’t a new occurrence, him referring to you as his favorite human. He seemed to work it into every conversation the two of you had, as though he felt the need to subtly remind you how much you meant to him. The two of you hadn’t always been this close. In fact, when the two of you first met, you regarded him mainly with suspicion. This suspicion quickly turned into a deep seated hatred for a time after he forced you to live through your brother dying over and over again. It actually wasn’t until Gabriel gave his life that you started to think that your hatred may have been misplaced. Although you had barely known him, a part of you had mourned your tormenter turned savior. As you had falsely assumed that you would never see him again. Cut to 8 years later when Ketch delivered an incredibly alive Gabriel to you. You had spent the next few days taking care of the broken archangel. For some reason, you were the only one Gabriel would allow to get close to him. Although he refused to speak, you could feel a tension rising between the two of you. It all came to ahead when Asmodeus broke into the bunker and almost killed you. Gabriel miraculously got his mojo back and smited Asmodeus where he stood for even laying a finger on you. You and the newly healed trickster had been “joined at the hip” as Dean puts it ever since.

“Speaking of which, I’ve got my favorite human’s favorite show queued up on my laptop right now. What do you say we snuggle up with some popcorn and lay in bed all day.” You giggle as Gabe wiggles his eyebrows as he steps closer to you.

“Honestly that sounds amazing, but we have a hunt.” Gabe just groans in disappointment before dramatically plopping on your bed. “And after last time, Dean says you’re not allowed to come with us anymore.” You watched as Gabe made himself comfortable on your bed.

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault! You brother just doesn’t have a sense of humor.” You zipped up your pack and picked it up. You looked back at Gabe, noticing the candy bar that miraculously appeared in his hand.

“Just stay out of trouble and we can watch tv when I get back.” Your angel just let out an indignant huff as you placed a kiss on his forehead and headed towards the door. “And no eating in my bed!” You smile softly at the disappointed groan you hear behind you.

“Stay safe, sugar.” You hear him chime out before you walk out.

“I always am.”

-

Gabriel had spent the last week lounging around the bunker waiting for you to get back. Well, lounging and rigging up a few surprises for the boys. But despite the inevitable boredom that comes with staying in one place too long, Gabe couldn’t find it in himself to leave until he saw you. This hunt had come up at the most inopportune moment possible. As well having a good Netflix and chill (Gabe knows you hate it when he says that but he just can’t resist), the archangel had also planned to talk to you that night. Yes, the larger than life angel/trickster had finally worked up the courage to confess his feelings to you. Gabriel’s face scrunches up at the thought. Usually he’d be content to avoid any and all conversations involving feelings, but somehow you managed to wiggle your way under his skin and he needed you to know how much he cared for you. He couldn’t help but care for you after you nursed him back to health. You had seen him at his most vulnerable, and you didn’t leave him or try to take advantage of him. You just sat quietly with him. Taking care of his injuries and pulling out his stitches. It wasn’t until sometime after he was healed that he realized how much he loved you, and how super boned he was for falling for a Winchester. So he planned to confess over tv and snacks, but of course the life of a hunter is never that straightforward. So naturally you were whisked away on a case, leaving Gabe behind to wait impatiently for you to get back. The trickster had actually been setting up a fun little surprise in the moose’s shower when he heard the bunker door slam open.

“Well it’s about time.” Gabriel stated as he appeared before the Winchesters. It wasn’t until that sentence left his lips that he properly surveyed the scene before him. You were being held in Dean’s arms as the two brothers pushed by him without saying a word. It wasn’t the sight of you being carried that jarred him into silence. Hell, it wasn’t even the copious amount of blood covering you and the older Winchester that shocked him. (He had seen you covered in blood on multiple occasions.) It was the way your skin looked pale and cold, as though you were already dead. Somewhere in his mind, it registered that the brothers were headed to the infirmary, but before he could even think to follow, Castiel appeared before him. “What happened?” Cas could faintly hear Gabe ask. At this moment, the archangel Gabriel looked less like a divine being and more like a broken man. Cas had trouble looking into his eyes at that moment. The desperation behind them forcing the guilt to creep slowly back into Castiel’s mind.

“We thought it was just a simple haunting. It turns out a group of demons were using the site to lure hunters. The Winchesters fell right into their trap.” If Gabriel comprehended his brother’s words, he did not show it. For the first time in the hyperactive angel’s life, he just stood there. He did not move, he did not breathe. If a stranger were to look at him, they might mistake him for a statue. Cas continued on. “I managed to heal her in time, but I believe she will need rest.” With that, Gabriel was suddenly moving again. Swiftly turning to head towards the infirmary. He needed to see you. To see for himself that you would be okay. But he was quickly halted by a hand being placed on his shoulder. “I… do not think you should see her like this.” This caused Gabe to snap. 

“And why’s that, Cas? Because you couldn’t protect her? Cause you couldn’t protect my… friend from a couple of rouge demons?” Gabriel was now standing toe to toe with Castiel, angelic energy flooding the room. “You failed her Cas. You don’t get to tell me what I should and should not do.” With that, Cas’s hand slid off Gabe’s shoulder and Gabe flew away towards the infirmary. 

-

Waking up in the infirmary was a… surprise to say the least. Your head ached and your throat was painfully dry. You tried to sit up and call for someone but when you opened your eyes you noticed that the room was empty. Which was an odd sight because usually your brothers would take turns watching over you whenever you got injured. You assumed that something must have happened… until you heard the voices outside. 

“No! You don’t get to storm in here blaming everyone else for your shit!” Dean was shouting at… someone? You couldn’t really tell who or what the conversation was about. It only took you a moment before your questions were answered. 

“Ha! my shit? You’re the one who almost let your sister get killed. Again.” Dean was arguing with Gabriel. Which in itself is not surprising, but it’s very rare that Gabriel truly shows anger during these fights. But you can tell by the way his voice is quivering that he is upset. 

“She’s a hunter,” Dean continues. “This is our job. So no, you do not get to blame me for this when really, you're mad at yourself for not being there to protect her.” The conversation goes quiet after that. You hear a sigh and footsteps walking away. Slowly, the door to the infirmary is pushed open. It’s safe to say that you’ve never seen Gabriel this sullen since he’d gotten his mojo back. His head hangs down to the floor as he quietly shuffles into the room. His eyes are sunken and laced with unshed tears. You’re not quite sure what to say. Luckily, you don’t need to because at that moment, Gabriel lifts his head and meets your gaze. 

“Y/n?” He speaks your name so softly that your heart almost breaks. “How long have you been awake for?” He rushes to sit by your side. 

“A couple of minutes.” You say quietly, your voice still hoarse from disuse. Gabe silently hands you a cup of water that was sitting on the side table. 

“Why didn’t you call anyone?” You took a sip from the cup before handing it back to him. 

“You guys seemed… busy.” Gabriel grimaced a bit as you said this. 

“You heard that?” Gabe sighs as you nod your head in confirmation. He rests his hand on your knee as the two of you sit in silence for a moment. You try to crack a joke to release some of the tension.

“It’s nice to know that you’d care if I died. Sorta assumed you’d be halfway to Vegas right now.” That statement draws a little chuckle out of your angel. 

“You know, I’ll smite you if you ever repeat this to anyone but… Dean was right.” Gabriel fixes his warm eyes on you as he speaks. “I am furious with myself for not being there. You’re my human. I should’ve been there to protect you.” It’s almost jarring to see Gabriel looking this vulnerable. You’re not quite sure what to say. So you don’t say anything. In a moment that catches the both of you off guard, you surge forward to wrap your arms around the broken looking angel. He lifts his arms after a moment to hold you back and you just rest against his chest for a while. Just allowing yourself to be held by your angel. You feel him press a kiss to your head and you sigh in contentment. Despite the soreness of your body, Gabriel’s presence feels like a relief. 

“I love you, you know.” You freeze as you feel him whisper the words into your hair. You draw your head up to look Gabe in the eyes once more. You can tell from the way he’s avoiding your gaze that he’s nervously waiting for your response. You lean in slowly and Gabriel sits frozen, waiting for your next move. You can’t even feel breath coming from him. Slowly, you place a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“I love you too.” You whisper back once you pull away. The two of you don’t stay separated for long as the angel pulls you back for a more heated kiss. The two of you break apart after you realize that you desperately need air. Gabe chuckles as you gasp for breath. 

“Well I’ll tell you one thing, honey.” He says as he pulls you flush against him. “You’re never going anywhere without me ever again.”

[jay-and-dean]

Firefly  Chapter 3 : Nine and Twelve years old

By Roonyxx and Jay-and-dean

Pairings : future Dean x reader ?

Summary :  40 years in Hell, but he didn’t spend all this time all alone, he had her.

Prepare to know what happened during those years Dean never talks about. To immerge yourself in Hell, only lit by the mysterious kid growing here…

And to see some of your favorite villains again : Crowley, Lilith, Lucifer… And also Sammy and Jack…

Serie Warnings : Hurt!Dean, Hell (torture, even if we tried to not give it graphic descriptions, creepy demons, blood, violence), swearing, angst, future fluff and smut.

This story is in both Reader’s POV and Dean’s POV

Wordcount : 4880

Note : This is our second collaboration. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like we did for Same.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

This story will be around 10 chapters and we intend to edit it every Saturday if nothing delays it.

Firefly Chapter 1

Firefly Chapter 2

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

—————————————————————————————

3.

Reader’s pov

She sighed, putting the notebook down on the marble table.

“Once more” the demon ordered, weirdly scratching his chin, or rather the skin of a middle-aged lady that didn’t suit him. “I want you to know this by heart.”

“Why” Y/n frowned. “What is the point of all that ? You’re not even a real teacher ! You make me learn things that have no sense !” 

A wicked expression appeared on the demon’s face, betraying him despite that ridiculous disguise.

“Oh I’m begging you little shit, disobey again. Punishing you is the only good part of this stupid job.”  

“You’re not allowed to hurt me” she smiled with contempt. “Crowley would end you, and Lilith…”

The demon suddenly got up, grabbing her by the hair to throw her where the chains were. Immediately tying her like an animal in a circus. She tried to fight him, already regretting her words.

“I’m allowed to cage you.”

“No no no…” she instantly begged.

Last time he had done that, he left her chained for four days and no one showed up, he was the only one coming every day.

         But today, she was going to know if Sammy told John about the college letter. After several bad days in a row (days when Dean couldn’t talk, wasn’t in his cell or she couldn’t get there), she couldn’t resolve to be locked again.

“Let me out !” she groaned. “Let me out or I SWEAR !”

But the demon kept smiling, seeing the now warded chains redden without breaking.

“Please…” she finally begged, falling on her knees. “Please, I hate those chains.”

“Prime numbers” the demon just stated coldly. “Until two thousand.” 

“Two” she swallowed, looking down. “Three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen…”

          She limped in the corridor, holding on to the bloody walls with tears in her eyes, and Mister Teddy Bear against her.

         After making her start again ten times, the demon had thrown the keys at her with a satisfied smile before he left. But of course, he had given them all but one : the one holding her ankle ; just to laugh, thinking at her false hope.

         And after tugging at it furiously for an hour or more, something had finally broke. Not in the chain... but in her ankle. 

         Dean’s cell wasn’t so far now, she would make it. And she would be brave and heal, just like he did, every single day. She turned left and limped to his cell, a cold sweat dripping down her back, and finally pushed the door with a light smile.

         Her smile faded.

She was too late or too early, or Alastair just lost his temper again. Almost nothing was left of her friend. Blood and guts, pieces of bones....  

For the first time in her life, she looked away, turned around on her purple foot and left a tear fall on her cheek. Hell was an unfair place and, for years, she had just accepted it for was it was, because she knew nothing else… But now her child innocence was slowly dying, and her hate growing.

She sat on the corner of the room, making herself as small as possible, her back on what was left of Dean, holding her teddy bear against her. 

She could wait.

After a while, she could hear the little whimpers that left his mouth, a sign that he was back together.

She turned around to see him : He was panting, his clothes clung to his sweat drenched body. His eyes were still closed, not ready to face her yet, if he even knew she was there. 

She took her injured ankle and heaved it up off the ground to turn completely to him, a hiss leaving her mouth. It wasn't totally healed yet, which made her frown. She was used to injuries only lasting a few minutes, an hour eventually… But this one was bad.

His eyes opened, he probably heard her. 

“H-hey Firefly…” he sounded hoarse. 

She wiped her tear and tried to give him her best smile, but she couldn’t. Hell was weighing down on her more and more every single day, she now saw how wrong it all was. How her friend suffered every single minute down here.

“Hey…” she said a little bitterly, as she waved the arm of Mister Teddy Bear. 

His eyes raked over her, but he didn’t really seem to see her yet. They looked void of anything. He heaved himself up with his arms, his back now resting against the wall. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and opens them again. His pupils adjusted to the darkness that surrounded them. He once again took her in, frowning when he saw her cradling her foot.

“Y-You’re hurt ?” He sat up more, his hair sticked to his sweaty forehead. 

She shrugged, she would heal anyway. It’s nothing compared to what he is going through. For the first time in her short life, she thought of the act of torture, for real, not just like something that existed and filled her world, but like something absurdly cruel… Before she could really come to any conclusion, he spoke again, his voice worried like it was more important for her to be hurt, like for him, it was just the way it was… Was it ?

“Does it hurt ?” he questioned her.

She shook her head no. It did hurt, but she didn’t want to worry him, she just wanted to know more about Earth and try to take his mind off everything.

He let his head rest back against the wall.

“Where were we ?” He still had some trouble breathing, she could see it in the way his chest moved. “Oh yeah. The college letter, right ?”

She nodded, yes ! Was Sam gonna tell their dad or not ?

“Right…” he took a deep shaky breath, and she couldn’t say if it was from his body still being broken, or from that weight on his chest, he always seemed to have when he talked about his father. “So at first Sammy didn’t tell our dad, because well, he knew dad wouldn’t like it. He knew I didn’t like it.”

Of course he didn’t, she thought, he needed Sam. And being alone with his father really didn’t seem fun… For a second, she wondered what would life be with a brother or a sister. But she will never know, her own father made it very clear that her “accidental” life was enough bother. 

“I didn’t want Sammy to leave” he continued. “He’s my baby brother. I gotta look out for him.”

He fell silent suddenly, apparently strangled by emotions, a tear rolled down his face. Her own stomach felt tight, the love Dean felt for his brother always moved her deeply.

She moved a little closer and put her teddy bear in his lap, she knew he felt lonely. It was part of the torture, the loneliness… She felt it too. 

He wrapped his hand around the small, dirty bear with a tender smile, almost amused.

“Thank you.” He looked down at the bear as he continued. “He is the reason I’m here, you know. Sammy died and I… I couldn’t let that happen, so I made a deal. My life for his. I would do it again in a heartbeat. He deserves a happy life.” 

And he didn’t ? 

He was tortured every single day, just because he saved his baby brother ? That sounded… wrong.

She knew a few reasons people would give up their soul. Money, success, fame... She never understood why those reasons exactly, these things didn’t mean anything down here. Those souls, they never lasted long on the rack.

But sacrificing your own soul for Love, those were the good people, the ones that really didn’t deserve to be here. Dean was one of them.

She looked up at his face, his eyes were watching nothing in particular, but she could tell by the thousand emotions passing on his face, that he was lost in his memories.

“Sammy loves fireworks” his thumbs brushed over the blood stained tummy of the bear. She frowned at him.

“Do you know fireworks ?” He finally looked at her.

She crossed her legs, noticing her foot was healed, and shook her head no. It sounded a little dangerous to her.

“It’s a tube filled with chemicals and when you light it on fire, it shoots up in the sky and makes a colorful explosion. Many people use it to celebrate a holiday” he half smiled. “Fireworks can be blue or red, gold, green, any color you want.” He reached over to give her bear back. She took him and placed the broken toy back in her lap.

A smile came upon her face, that sounded like something she would like.

“I hope you can see it one day, well night, you can only see it at night, because light only shines in the dark. This one time I got a whole box of fireworks, i was like 19 maybe. Sammy was 15. We had some rough hunts, one after the other and I could see it was wearing down on Sam, and it was the 4th of July.”

She didn’t dare telling him she had no idea what it meant, she was used to know only a part of what he was talking about. 

“Dad forbid it, but I disobeyed. I wanted to make him smile, he was so happy…” he smile faded. “I wonder how he is now. ”

She wanted to get him fireworks, she wanted to make him smile. No, she had to make him smile, if it was the last thing she did.

“Sorry, I was talking about the letter, I just… I just remembered night sky and...” he swallowed. “At least Sammy can still see night sky, stars. You never saw stars, Firefly, right ?”

She gave him a light smile, that seemed to make him curious. 

“Did you ever see the sky ?”

“I…” she started but didn’t finished her sentence. 

How dangerous was it to speak ? For him ? For her ? For Crowley and all the “people” she knew even if she hated them all. They had made her swear.

She looked around and turned her ankle to make sure it didn’t hurt and wasn’t broken anymore. Then got up on her feet.

It was the very first time since she knew Dean, that she saw him totally healed and, above all, not chained. His body just got whole again so it was free from the iron nightmares.

She took a deep breath, and thought hard for a second : What if Alastair came here and… What is the worst that could happen if she got caught breaking Hell’s number one rule ? They would torture him… They already did that the best they could. They would probably lock her up and never let her out… 

She looked at him for a long time, searching his confused face.

“Are you okay, kid ?” he asked in a frown.

“Come” she finally answered, offering him her tiny hand.

Dean’s Pov  

He stared at her palm, trying to process what she just said. He had never escaped this room, and the few times he got out of it, a demon just took him just next door, for unknown reason. 

“You…” he said but she just kept offering her hand.

Dean was scared. He was terrified even. Years of constant torture and humiliation had made him extremely sensible to threats ; and right now, all he could think of was Alastair’s voice telling him he hadn’t done the worst he could do yet, that some places in here could make him say yes in a heartbeat, but that it was funnier this way.

He hesitated. Alastair would be furious if he found him out… But her eyes were shining, and her hand didn’t shake at all. Something so strong was radiating from her. 

He got up, and just being on his feet felt weird now. No chains, no broken knees… His hand reached hers and she closed her surprisingly soft fingers around it, smiling so wide her pretty teeth showed.

The first three or four steps he took felt extremely weird, like his body remembered how to be active, move… There was something so alive about walking.

After balking a second before the door frame, he finally got out of his cell, led by the little girl in a fancy night blue dress, that seemed to fear nothing.

“Where are you…” he started.

But she turned to him, cutting him with panicked eyes and a finger on her lips. Then she shook her head “no”, making it clear that they had to be silent.

Dean was thorn. His eyes kept roaming everywhere, and yet he didn’t want to see anything. Hell was not just a word now for him, and the screams and begging was slowly triggering some serious panic attack deep inside of him.

His hand started to sweat.

The little girl stopped in her tracks, frowns and turned to him. Her big eyes searched his face, she obviously could feel how bad he was. She tugged at his arm making him bend a little on her, never letting go of his hand.

“You stay silent” she whispered close to his ear. “You never leave my side, I know the way…”

It somehow helped. 

He had no idea who she was, but what was sure was that this tiny lovely ghost knew what she was doing.

They kept walking and he started focusing on her, and only her, forgetting the arms trying to reach them and this horrible smell of sulfur, forgetting the burning hot and the freezing cold…

The way she moved was totally amazing, fast like a rabbit then careful and slow like a hunting cat, stopping to hide behind a column before a demon even showed up, like she knew Hell’s clockwork perfectly. And it calmed Dean a little : watching her move was like watching a dance.

After long minutes avoiding many dangers, they entered a very long corridor with no doors but an incredible cathedral ceiling. Dean didn’t think he would see anything like this in Hell, anything somehow beautiful… But his Firefly was really like a beacon in the eternal night. 

“No demon” he whispered.

“No…” her little voice answered, echoing on every tall walls. “This place is empty and useless, they say.”

“Useless…” he repeated, not really understanding.

At the end of the corridor, a huge door appeared, high like a house, thousands of symbols carved on it, and two huge marble gargoyles guarding it.

“They lost the key” she whispered even lower, guiding him to the door.

“What is on the other side ?” he asked, his breathing short with a mix of fear and hope.

She stopped, and suddenly let go of his hand to plunged her small fingers in the hole where the head of her teddy bear should be. She bit her lip in concentration, searching in the foam.

A little smile appeared on her face, and she started pulling at something. 

A key.

She took it out cautiously, blowing on it a little to take off the foam dust stuck on the weird yet beautiful key. It was way too small for the giant door, and yet, she got on her tiptoes to reach the little lock he hadn’t notice.

The little girl looked behind her a last time before she made one of the huge parts of the carved door move open. 

“Come” she said.

Carefully, he slipped inside the room and his breathing got stuck in his lungs while she slowly closed the door behind her. 

The room had no ceiling. It was made of four black walls that Dean wasn’t even sure were there because of how dark it was. And above them… The sky.

The shadows of trees and and leafs in the night and between them : the stars. Exactly like he remembered it. It must have been a peaceful night of summer, because the temperature was perfect, no burning hot and no painful cold… Just a soft breeze was gently caressing his skin and he could have swore he could distinguish the thousand characteristic smells of nature, of a forest.

A tear rolled down his face, falling in his ear as his chin was up, eyes glued to the sky, the stars and the moon.

It was like the room was both in that forest and out of it, or under it, like his Firefly and him were in the bottom of a well, open on the universe.

He felt her hand wrap around his wrist and turned to her for a second. She was as fascinated as him, her big wet eyes reflecting the moon, and her hand shaking a little.

“What is this place ?” he asked, but she only shrugged, never looking away from the crescent moon. “That’s where you saw the sky, Firefly” he understood.

She nodded.

They stood here, close to each other, her small hands holding his wrist on her right and the key on the left. Tears rolling down his face, and shaking his chest in silent. Not another word was said.

After a moment, she slightly tugged at his arm, and his heart sank. How could he go back to torture now ? How cruel was it ? But he couldn’t let her get in trouble, and maybe… just maybe one day she could take him here again.

He wiped his tears and followed her without a word. The second she closed the door behind them, the harassing heat was back, and the dreadful smell was the only thing surrounding them again.

She closed the door behind her and hid the key back in her teddy bear, making sure it was on the bottom of it. Before she could start to walk back to the horror of his cell, he turned her small body to him, and sink on his knees to hold her. 

“Thank you” he breathed out. “Thank you so much.”

Her skin was cool despite the suffocating heat, like it didn’t affect her at all, and no sweat was on her soft arms or back. 

She hugged him back hesitantly, wrapping her hands around his neck, and he felt her nose shyly closer to his skin, like she needed to know how his skin smelled.

He let go before her, and get up on his feet, murmuring something about going back. She took his index finger and led him like she did on their way here. 

Dean was lost in his thoughts. About life, about Earth, about the sky and the stars, memories of not appreciating it enough, of that time he told Cassie that just watching the sky was boring…

That’s why he didn’t feel her finger let go of him in an instant. 

“Dean winchester !” a horrible demon voice groaned. 

He looked up and started shaking. The beast was wearing it’s real form, twice taller than him, with horns coming out where his eyes should have been, and extremely long claws at the end of his too big fingers.

“How did you get out !” the demon half yelled.

Dean looked around : Nothing. No clue of his Firefly presence, or that she even was there once. 

And while the beast was dragging him by the arm harshly, he wondered if it was possible that his mind was beginning to make things up... 

            Alastair was furious, even angrier than he ever was. Hitting his face again, he kept asking :

“How did you get OUT ?”

But Dean didn’t open his mouth, not once.

When that demon that had found him entered, holding the little girl by the neck, Dean had two really strong contrary feelings at once : The infinite joy of now being sure he didn’t dreamed that, and the devastating pain of seeing her struggling against that giant monster. 

“Boss, we found her hiding. You think she might have helped him ?” the demon said, making the walls tremble.

“Oh yes she might, I’m pretty sure she did…” his torturer answered with a wicked smile. 

Y/n’s pov 

The demon dropped her to the floor of the cell. 

“Oh girlie, you are in so much trouble now.” 

She saw Dean cowered against the wall, already bruised and bleeding. Arms wrapped around his body to protect himself.

He tsked his lips in a way only he could, making her shiver, and hold on to her broken toy.

“Leaving your room AND taking my pet,” an eerie grin showed his yellow teeth, “You’re in for it now.” He motioned with his two fingers to the demon to handle Dean.

She couldn’t let that happen, it was her fault, Dean shouldn’t pay the price for her disobedience. She ran to stand in front of Dean.

“No.” She said, looking up at the monster, challenging him.

 He laughed at her and she clenched her little fists and planted her feet. She knew she couldn’t stop the torture, but right now, she couldn’t let it happen. The smell of his neck still clear in her mind, the sight of his happy tears falling on his face…

“You’re gonna stop me, child ?” he bent, to face her, his long sharp teeth inching towards her face. 

She held her head high, looking him in his black eyes with rage and took a step forward, the demon moving backwards. Her breathing got faster and she felt her anger burn her skin. 

He looked down at his feet apparently surprised that with every step she took, he moved more backwards, his long nails scraping over the floor, leaving deep crescents behind. He reached his arms towards her but he couldn’t reach her, like there was an invisible wall between them. 

Waves and waves of fury pulsated through her, making her feel tall for once, making her feel strong… 

“I-Impossible” he gasped.

Her grin grew wider, her hair started floating around her again. 

But it didn’t last... 

A immense power violently slammed her back into the wall as Alastair stepped forward. She fought back the best she could but he didn’t even break a sweat.

“You’ll need a whole lot more juice to over power me, girlie.” 

He stood straight before her. His power crushing her, her breath cut short. His grin made her feel sick as his eyes travelled over her with contempt. 

Her eyes widened when he grabbed her bear clutched tight in her hand from her.

“NO !” she yelled.

Her arms fought his power, reaching out for him, but with the flick of his wrist she was pinned against the wall once again. She was fighting him with everything she got. Eyes a flare, vibrating from the power inside of her. 

She could see Dean in the corner of her eye, he looked… scared. Was it of her ?

“You disobey, you pay.” Alastair said as he held Mister Teddy Bear, his eyes turning white as he set the bear on fire.

“N-No…” tears rolled down her face. 

Her stuffed friend was the only thing that fought her loneliness, her only true friend, they had been through so much together.

As she started sobbing, seeing the quick fire of Hell turning Mister Teddy Bear to ashes in seconds, she felt her heart sink in her stomach. Her nights would be so much lonelier now with no one to hold. But her days too, everything would be empty. 

The light in her eyes died down as did the flame. Mister Teddy Bear, reduced to a pathetic heap of dust…

“Stop crying, you’re nine years old, that’s too old to have a toy.” 

Alistair patted his hands together to get rid of the black ash. But in his hands was not only ash. Shining on the floor, a little reddened by the flame : The key. His eyes widened.

“Where did you get this?!” His hand grabbed her by the throat, his power pushed down on her, making the wall behind her crack under it’s force. “WHERE ?”

“L-let her go” Dean coughed, his breathing short, but Alastair ignored him, and the other demon stepped on his chest.

She kept her mouth shut. She had snatched it off of Crowley one day when he had pissed her off, hoping it was a key to one of her chains. But it didn’t fit… 

It looked different from a normal key. It was gold, a circle with a hook on top of it and three long teeth that looked it would never fit in any lock. But if Crowley kept it, it had to be important. So she tried every lock of Hell. 

“You STUPID girl, you just earned yourself an eternity of chains and horror” he sneered at her.

“It already is my life” her tears had stopped by now. 

This key seemed like a big deal, Alistair was not one to lose his temper so easily. He put it in his pocket. Turned his head toward the beast crushing Dean’s ribs with his weight.

“Take Dean to my room, it will be one Hell of a session” he winked towards the bloody man struggling to breathe, toying with his prey, as the demon dragged him out.

Y/n didn’t wave this time, her eyes fixed on the pile of ash on the floor.

“And you” he fisted her hair, making her look up at him. “Let’s give you a taste of real Hell.”

 ___________________________

               She walked carefully in the corridor, holding her long, puffed-out muslin dress up to keep it away from the blood and dirt. 

The cold air was biting her wide cleavage, upper back and neck because her hair was held in that tight bun. She could feel the freezing gold at her wrists and neck, and hanging from her hair. Her shoes were tight and high, she hated them.

Her steps resonated against the stone walls, but she knew no demon would be around.

She needed to see him, just once, since they had played with her like a doll since this morning, and she didn’t have a second for herself.

When she pushed the door, he was held by chains again, but whole, curled up in the corner, his clothes seemed to have been mostly burned, and a heavy smell of smoke was making the air barely breathable. 

“Dean” she said.

He looked up and his face lit up, his widened eyes reflecting her fancy appearance. 

“You look like a princess” he groaned with a voice still croaky.

“You won’t see Alastair tonight” she assured him.

“Is there a party ?” he scoffed, visibly bitter like he somedays were. “Have fun.”

“No one will visit tonight Dean” she repeated again, not knowing what she could add to that.

Then she turned around in a light sigh. He had every reason in the world to be that bitter, there was nothing more to say. But the second she was going to pass the door, he spoke again :

“Don’t let them hurt you, Firefly. You fight back if they touch you…” he cleared his throat. “You look amazing.”

  She entered the ballroom with that indifferent pout on her face she kept there all the time lately. Her sad feature hidden behind that disillusioned mask she wore every single day.

The room looked like the throne room of a rich castle, and all the demons were hiding their vileness in human bodies, dressed fancy, with smiles on their faces. But they didn’t fooled her. 

They stepped aside to let her enter, turning toward her in whispers. She walked in, her back straight, her hate making her back shiver under the noble lace.

“There she is” a voice came from the crowd.

And the first demon of all, in the body of a tall blond lady appeared, she was the only one wearing a dress more sophisticated than her own. 

“Lilith” Y/n curtsied slightly, clenching her jaw.  

The demon took her face brutally in her hand to look at it with contempt and nodded slightly.

“Maybe you’re right, Crowley” she admitted, letting go of her face and turning her back on her. “Maybe your accidental offspring could be a bride or a toy for our Lord when he rises.” she turned to Y/n again to look one last time from head to toe, and muttered low. “But I’m glad I won’t be here to see that.”  

When Y/n turned to walk far from that evil shrew, she came face to face with Alastair, and goosebumped appeared on her skin.

“Happy twelfth birthday, Girly” he smiled and she swallowed the angry lump in the throat.

“Y/n !” Crowley called, probably trying to get her away from his own enemies like he always did, not to protect her, but to avoid the humiliation of seeing the Ace in his hand being despised by anyone stronger than him.

She turned to him, but felt Alastair’s hand grasp her wrist harshly. He bent next to her ear and she could smell his fetid breath.

“I hope you die.”

Next Chapter on @roonyxx​‘s blog

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[kyber-kisses]

Through A Mothers Eyes (Part 3)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Wanna start from the beginning? Here is the masterlist!

Warnings: crack, cursing, idiots to lovers trope (that good shit)

Summary: When Mary meets Deans closest and best friend, she cant help but see the chemistry between them. . .but she might be the only one as well.

A/n: Its back! It took me awhile to motivate myself to write the next chapter, but I did it! I hope you enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated! (gif made by rainbow-motors)

If Mary thought living in a bunker with her two sons and you was chaotic. . . She was definitely not prepared at all for what game night meant. Not. One. Bit.

It was like a fucking war zone.

Halfway through Jenga she almost expected you and Dean to slap on some war paint, she had never seen such competitive people before in her life.

And then you brought out Uno.

“Fuckin demolish him Cas!” You yelled, hands planted firmly on the table as you watched the angel and hunter slap down colored cards furiously. You, Sam, and Mary had all lost already, resulting in you being Cas’s new hype man.

“Y/N, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“There are no sides in Uno, Dean!”

“Then why the hell are you cheering on Cas?!” Dean slapped down another card. The two were almost running out of cards to play that it hit the point where Sam had to start shuffling the played cards so they could continue. “As your best friend let me just say; I find that insulting.”

“False. Cas is actually my best friend.” You responded bluntly, raising your hand to connect it with the angels in a loud high five.

Dean paused to narrow his eyes in your direction. “. . . Anyways, as your best friend- I’m telling you, you can’t pick sides.”

“Oh and where pray tell did you get that idea from?”

“The best friend rule book.”

You laughed. “Oh yeah, let’s whip that one out and crack it open, I’d love to read it!” You paused, turning to his mother with a soft smile. “I’m so sorry you have to witness this. He’s just a pain in my ass.”

Resting her chin in her hand, Mary returned the smile, still mildly amused at what was playing out in front of her. “I can tell. But I’m pretty sure he’s a pain in everyone’s butt.”

Deans mouth popped open in shock as his lips momentarily failed at trying to form words. “Now you’re taking her side too?!”

“I mean-“ you paused, flicking your hair over your shoulder. “I am fucking amazing. Plus, your mom just knows who the cooler person is out of the two of us-“

“Oh you little-“ dean growled, rolling up his sleeves after slapping his cards down on the table.

“Is this really necessary?” Cas muttered, eyes still on his cards and clearly trying to plan his next move.

“Oh you fuckin know it.”

“Maybe your mom should just adopt me. I could replace you! I am way more fun!” You laughed, backing up as Dean slowly rose from his seat. “Plus, you’re moms way more cool than you.” You joked, eyes lighting up when you looked at Dean and saw him moving towards you. You maneuvered around the table, the two of you moving back and forth as you tried to dodge Dean, trying to keep the table between you.

“You’re such an asshole!”

“You know it baby.” Shooting him a wink you ducked behind Sam's large frame, using him as a shield.

“Oh no- don’t go bringing me into this.” Sam tried, shaking his head as you gripped his shoulders.

“Just hold him off for me will ya?”

“And what do I get in return?”

“. . . the next time its your turn for a supply run, ill do it.”

A pause. “Deal.”

“Sam!”

The younger Winchester shrugged as he held out his arms, stopping Dean from reaching you. “What? Y/Ns more negotiable that you are.”

You let out a cackle before standing on your top toes to press a firm kiss to Sams cheek. “Thanks Samantha!”

You took off down the hallway before Dean could even attempt to move Sam. The younger Winchester continuing to block his brother as he tried to move past him. After a moment Dean gave up, falling back into his seat. “Alright, fine. I admit defeat. . .you can put your arms down..”

“If I do are you gonna go kill her?”

“. . . Maybe.”

“Dean!” Mary hissed, shaking her head at her sons antics.

“What? She’s a pain in the ass!”

Mary only shook her head again. That was until Cas spoke up again. “Am I supposed to say Uno?”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

The rest of the night became much calmer after that, you and Dean were back to your usual shenanigans and held up in the Dean cave watching some old western, Sam had headed off to bed because apparently you and Dean “drain his energy” Or whatever. Cas was for some reason still up cataloging some of the bunkers lore. As for mother Winchester, she found herself seated at the kitchen table, reading a book you had lent her a little over a week ago.

Mary almost didn’t see you walk in at first, with most of the lights still off it was like darkened hallway spit you out. Hands in the pockets of your sweatpants you quietly trudged into the room, pausing at the sight of Mary.

“You liking the book?”

Mary looked up, a small smile gracing her lips at the sight of you. “Yes I am, thank you for lending it to me.”

“No problem. Honestly it was just sitting on my desk collecting dust. I read it and never picked it up again” You admitted with a shrug. Walking past her, you filled your empty glass at the sink before moving back and lowering yourself into the seat across from her. “I’m sorry about earlier. Deans and Is energy can be a little overwhelming at times.”

“You don’t need to apologize. If anything I should be thanking you.” She closed her book, folding her arms over the surface of the table.

“What for?”

Mary let out a sigh. “Even if I haven’t been back for very long, it’s easy to see the effect you have on Dean. He’s happier when you're around, you get him to laugh more than anyone else here.”

“I think you're just seeing his slow decent into insanity.” You chuckled, looking down at your folded hands. “I’m told I have that effect on people.”

“Oh I don’t think that’s true.”

You opened your mouth to answer but stopped when you looked past Mary, eyebrow instantly raising. “What?”

Mary turned in her seat, her eyes finding her oldest son standing in the darkened doorway, your blue blanket wrapped around him. Dean narrowed his eyes at you. “You left me.”

“. . . I’m sorry?”

He stepped down into the kitchen, eyes still glazed over with a slight sleepiness. “It was rude.”

“You were asleep! I didn’t want to wake you up!” You threw your hands in the air, unable to believe the man sinking down into the vacant seat next to you. He yawned, his head falling against your shoulder as he closed his eyes.

“But by your didn’t have to leave me by myself. I woke up and you were gone.”

You rolled your eyes, hand coming up to pat the side of his head. “You poor baby, whatever shall you do now?”

“Mmm haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Did you really just come in here to fall asleep on me again? Just go to bed Dean.”

“Don’t wanna.” He sighed, wrapping your blanket tighter around him.

“I swear you like a five year old.”

“I am not.”

“You totally are.” You paused. “But seriously Dean, go to bed. I ain’t dragging you down the hallway to your room when you fall asleep on me again.” You gave him another pat before standing up put your now empty glass in the sink, having practically chugged it moments before.

Groaning once more, Dean slowly blinked his eyes open and turned his attention to his mother. “What are you still doing up? I thought you went to bed.”

“Couldn’t sleep, thought I’d stay up and read instead. Y/N lent me a book to read.”

Turning his head to look between you and his mom he shook it in disbelief. “God, I live with a bunch of nerds.”

“Dean you can’t say anything about that. You're like the biggest nerd out of all of us.”

“. . . Shut up. Plus, you're no better. If anything I'm this way because of you.”

“Sure, Jan. You keep telling yourself that.”

Dean paused when he looked back over to his mom, seeing a soft smile on her features. “What?”

“Just the two of you-“

“What about the two of us?” He questioned, sliding the blanket off of his shoulders as he stood up before folding it and handing it back to its rightful owner.

“I just- I think you two would make a cute couple.”

There was a pause as the two of you looked at each other.

“Me? . . .And her?” Dean threw a thumb over his shoulder in your direction.

“Me and Dean?”

Another pause. And then a light laugh was bubbling up from both of your throats- before quickly turning into full bellied laughter. Dean had his hands planted on his knees and your head was thrown back as you grabbed at you gut. The two of you quickly dissolving into fits of hysteria. It went on for a good minute before starting to fizzle out.

Ahaha! Whew-“ Dean chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes as he stood up properly again. “That- that was good.”

“Oh god-“ you bent over, hands still on your sides. “My gut hurts- I haven’t laughed like that in awhile.” You panted.

“Yeah, thank you for that mom.” Dean patted his mother’s shoulder as he passed. “That just made my entire day.”

Once you had mostly regained your composure, you took a deep breath. “Okay, well as much fun as that was- I’m gonna go to bed. Goodnight Mary, Dean.” Giving gone last nod you stepped into the hallway along with Dean, the two of you connecting your palms in a loud high five before walking off in separate directions.

Meanwhile Mary sat silently at the table, the only thing running through her mind being what the fuck just happened?

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[laufire]

Supernatural s5

I finished it a little while ago, but I haven’t had the time to make an involved post about it -or watch that much of s6 yet; I’m trying to be Resposible and the time I have has been spent in advancing fics a little bit or answering short asks lol.

-I have really enjoyed this season for the most part, but there’s something I need to get of my chest LOL: all through it, the song “Too Many Dicks (On The Dance Floor)” played in my head xDD. Like, listen, I knew what I was signing up for with this show!! I didn’t expect NOT to find it offensive or regressive on multiple occasions!! But I guess s3-4 must have spoiled me lmao. I’m not saying those seasons are the height of feminism, but if you removed its most important female characters, ESPECIALLY Ruby, the plot of the season would fall apart. That’s not something you can say for s5 and preventing the Apocalypse, just sayin’.

It wouldn’t’ve been that hard to expand Meg’s, Anna’s or the Harvelle’s part (they had good material to go there -Meg as the faithful possibly opening her eyes, Anna as the betrayed and the juror jury and executioner, the Harvelles as normal hunters fighting something way too big for them-, but barely any time and like I said, no incidence in the actual plot of the season). Hell, I’m biased but bringing back Ruby would’ve at least taken care of the problem lol. Or if the show had indulged me and kept Bellamy Young as Lucifer, at least. But everyone with a real say in the plot is a dude, or at least wearing one as a vessel (angel’s conception of gender is clearly different from humans, but in terms of ~~representation the results are the same lbr).

-My constant frustrations with Supernatural’s bigotry-related stuff lol, like I said, I really enjoyed the season (that combination is one of the most frustrating things about the show lmao). Especially Castiel’s plot. The guy has reached Potential Hall of Faves status and that’s hum. A Problem xD

But seriously, he was breaking my heart in all the best ways. His search for God (the Absent Father that the show specifically compared to John añsldkfjasf. This show ISTG!!), his disappointment and sense of betrayal at being let down (he called God Himself “son of a bitch”!!!). I was especially fascinated by his Endverse version -that AU will have its own section lol-, although it resulted in making me reaaaally nervous whenever he was close to an addictive substance :). Like yes, those scenes were lowkey humourous and adorable (like when he drinks shots with the Harvelles and Ellen is fascinated and Jo delighted -... lowkey shipping this too btw. Lowkey shipping Castiel with lots of people-, or his combo with Sam when he got drunk), but also, you know, WORRYING xD

Some of my favourite scenes of his were, predictably, his interactions with Meg or Lucifer in 5x10. The Megstiel scene was SUPER HOT (both their voices are very unf-y lol), I can’t wait to edit it. And having Lucifer call Castiel “a peculiar thing” sure was something xD (although lbr, this Lucifer isn’t keeping with his rebel angel reputation, Castiel is carrying that all by himself smh).

Another scene I couldn’t get out of my head if I wanted to is when he uhhhh... completely LOSES IT and starts beating the crap out of Dean when he was ready to give it up to Michael. “I gave everything for you, and this is what you give me?!?” ooooooof. It was hard to watch, and fascinating and intense. I shamelessly loved it lmfao.

Though my favourite moment of his is one that can only be appreciated when you know certain things about s6. It’s the scene where, unlike everyone else, he shows appreciation for Sam’s plan of sacrificing himself to get rid of Lucifer. Because yes, at this point it’s the only thing that can save the world. But Castiel isn’t saying, “Sam’s life is a small price to pay in comparison”, because he will go into s6 and snatch Sam out of the cage immediately. s5 established Sam got out, so with that in mind, he didn’t bring it up because he didn’t want to create false hope in case he failed, but he backed the plan with the intention of saving Sam anyway. I love that. I love him.

-The entire season was Missing Ruby Hours for me lmfao. Like I said, some of the problems in the season wrt female characters would’ve been at the very least lessened if she’d gotten to be here wrecking havoc. But generally I just miss her and What Could Have Been with her here. I enjoyed some of the crumbs (Sam using the witchcraft skillz he learned from her! Sam immediately knowing Meg isn’t Ruby, unlike Dean! Her knife! The ARCHANGEL GABRIEL referencing her as “the demon Sam chose over his brother”!! The callbacks with Crowley or Brady!!), but I would’ve wanted her here, dammit xD.

-Aaaaand we’re finally getting to Sam, who is without a doubt the star of the season, if you ask me. His plan at the end, to let Lucifer possess him in the hopes he can fight back for just long enough to overpower him and throw them both into the cage, with no hopes for himself? This is the kind of Big Damn Hero stunt I’m a sucker for, I won’t lie. And I love that the show felt the need to confirm he was still alive at the end of the season hehe.

He really Went Through It this season and he held on lmfao. On top of everything (the apocalypse, the guilt of being its final trigger, the addiction recovery, etc.), he also had to deal with Dean’s usual bullshit, which is no small feat xDD. Like, sure, from an audience stand-point all those things are interesting (some fave/the fuck moments are when Dean is obviously peeved that Bobby still supports Sam because he wanted Bobby in HIS corner, or when he has the nerve to say he wants to say yes to Michael because he doesn’t trust SAM not to say yes to Lucifer lmfaoooo), BUT IT’S STILL A FEAT XD

One note: for all the talk about bi!Dean, bi!Sam is so SEEN this season xDD. AFAIC he totally hooked up with that bartender Paul (RIP Paul. At least in your last moments you enjoyed Sam, who’s clearly an energetic, attentive lover 😔). And Crowley refers to Brady as Sam’s demon ex-boyfriend and nobody bats and eye lmfao (that story is so angsty... the parallels to Ruby, how he ingratiated himself with Sam by pretending to have fallen off the wagon... ouch).

-I have mixed feelings on Crowley. On his own, I fell absolutely in love with the guy on his first appearance. A demon that DOUBTS Lucifer and doesn’t kiss his ass?? That wants to get rid of him and do his own thing?? And clearly enjoys ~earthly pleasures to the fullest (his complains about how the other demons ate his tailor had me rolling laksjdfa)? The way he turned the tables on Brady? OFC I love him. OTOH boy, does it annoy me knowing that fandom GLADLY embraced him when they condemned characters like Bela or Ruby for similar things. It’s not his fault so I still like him (he’s like Gabriel in that sense), but it’s annoying!

It also annoys me how Dean Must Be Right All The Time syndrome interacts with him lol. This season Dean decides they can trust Crowley (despite Crowley killing two humans in front of him and getting him beat up by Brady lol), so they can. Next season he decides they can’t, so Castiel will be WrongTM because Dean Says So. Ugggggh xD

-To be fair, however, this season has my fave Dean so far LOL. In the love/hate scale, this one has been almost solely in camp love, barring some of those moments of irksome hypocrisy that he’s so prone to xD.

But there was something about how this season’s plot chipped away at him, you know? For all the traits he has that drive me up the wall or unsettle me, I appreciate a lot of his personality because it makes him a unique and interesting character driving the narrative -his irreverence, his ability to think on the fly and get out of shitty situations, his disbelief. Seeing all of those things under siege this season made me hurt for him in a way I hadn’t anticipated LOL. By the time he was ready to give in to Michael (and I love that what made him step away from that choice was Sam showing a trust in him he patently didn’t deserve lbr), sometimes I felt terribly for the guy.

I also wonder if this season kind of marked like... the beginning of the end for him, narrative-wise? Making him Michael’s vessel (his angel condom) is the kind of thing that turns him from subject into object, and that can doom characters ime. The fact that he ~resigns himself to Sam’s death when his identity as a character came with being His Brother’s Keeper is another slight.

-I continue having mixed feelings about Destiel too LMAO. I’ve decided I’m just going to try to enjoy the good and interesting parts while I can, while trying not to think of future developments that’ll likely sour the ship for me lol.

Because in truth, yeah, I enjoy their interactions a lot here! The Endverse was particularly enjoyable for me (back to that in a moment), but the entire season had a lot of gems. That moment in the finale, when Dean is wounded on his knees after Sam sacrifices himself, and Castiel resurrects and heals him with a touch? And Dean is staring in awe and asks him if he’s become God?? Like wtf am I supposed to do with that. WHO SAYS THAT. XDD

-The Endverse. Omgggggggg. The Endverse. I doubt I can say anything about it that hasn’t been said a thousand times, but seriously. I loooove it, all of it. My favourite was endverse!Castiel, ofc. The way he was in No Man’s Land, not an angel and not quite a human, his ways of trying to cope with that, how burned he was... I uncomfortably related to some of it too lmfao, but let’s not get into that xD.

Seeing both Deans interact was gr10 too. They really couldn’t stand each other lmfao (do you understand me now Dean?? They actually reminded me of two OCs in an original WIP of mine that are in a similar situation -in this case it’s the future version purposefully traveling to the past though-, which made me even fonder of the AU). And the Destiel? *chef’s kiss*. The bitterness, like when Castiel laughs when present!Dean berates endverse!Dean about the tortures and then purposefully says “I like past you” to hurt him asñldkfjasf. Or those looks when Dean returns to the past and tells Castiel to “never change” d’aw.

I loved Lucifer!Sam in this episode too (and personally, I think in the finale Lucifer -and Michael- should’ve changed his outfit too. Sam’s clothes just don’t get to The Devil’s levels, but that white suit was perfect). He was terrifying xD.

BTW: I’ve decided that, since we never see endverse!Castiel die, well. He didn’t xD. I could see Lucifer keeping him alive and captive out of a sense of nostalgia, as Castiel is the only other thing close to a fellow angel left. Might even decide to return his powers with time, or to ~entice him with such an offer lol. And ofc I headcanon Sam is still inside, occasionally trying to fight. Cue in all the Castiel/Lucifer and Castiel/Sam fic ideas too (I have waaaaay too many of those for this mini-verse. It’s very inspiring).

-I’m still on the fence at Lucifer’s motivations but I can’t question how the family issues fit so, so well into this ‘verse. “Family is hell” is the show’s thesis, after all xD. IMO the angels in general don’t feel like a family, they’re a military body/cult lol, but the Archangels are another matter. I guess is the whole “only four angels have seen God-slash-Dad” thing, the rest were... well, the help, apparently.

But Lucifer, Michael, and Gabriel do feel like brothers when they interact (I’m guessing here Gabriel is the Adam: discarded by the other two like nothing :)))). Raphael too, but since he doesn’t interact with them... does he get to later? Or is he the odd one out? Did the others avoid him because he kept quoting Nietzsche at dinner?? LOL.

-There are no words to explain how terribly I feel for Adam. JFC that poor KID. Who was kind and helpful and intuitive, and only wanted his mother back and to help stop the end of the world. And that Sam and Dean will leave rotting in Hell for a millennia :))). It’s kiiiiiiiiind of hard to do for your show’s “heroes” when they do shit like that lmfao. It’d be different if they never tried to make him feel he’s family, but Sam tried to convince him with the bs “because we’re blood” and they did a half-baked attempt at saving him from Zacharias, and then... yeah. At least he had Michael in the cage, but still.

-I was already spoiled of this, but the reveal that cupids made John and Mary fall in love is so chilling (good on Dean for punching that cupid asshole, btw). It puts what Mary says about John in flashbacks, about how much she loves him and how perfect he is, in such a terrifying light. And I’m under the impression that the show didn’t bother to deal with this properly when they resurrected Mary and just... I hate that tbh. It’s a narrative choice that should have a huuuge impact, dammit.

-I kind of loved how bitter and angry Bobby was about (temporarily, thanks to Crowley, his new demon bf -watch out Rufus) ending up in a wheelchair. That there were no platitudes or false sentimentality and it just... was.

-The Harvelles’ had a good send off. I can respect Kripke for wanting his faves to go on his terms lol. Having Jo refuse Dean’s offer of a fuck on their possible last night on Earth with “I rather spent it with a little thing I have self-respect”? Not because she doesn’t have feelings for him, but because she thinks she deserves better from him? I love it. This guy knows his pettiness xD

-The fact that this fandom seems to have ignored Gabriel x Kali is one of the reasons I’m never going to vibe with it, sns. Immortal exes? Check. She tricked him and killed him... but then it turns out HE tricked and he’s alive? Check. BUT THEN HE STILL GOES BACK AND SAVES HER, DYING BY HIS BROTHER’S HAND?? CHECK CHECK CHECK. Ugh, why can’t they come back to me. I know, I know, Kali is a WoC and those are only allowed one (1) appearance before they’re killed off, apparently. So it might be a good thing that she doesn’t return xD. But gosh, they were gr10.

-Death the Horseman’s intro cleared my skin. I love him. I love how utterly terrifying he is and how chilling his and Dean’s scene was. And I yearn to find a picture of the guy a little younger and with a goatee, because he’s the most perfect Discworld’s Vetinari fancast I’ve ever found xDD

-I’ve seen tons of commentary over the years, and especially lately for obvious reasons, about how this season finale would’ve been a much better ending for the show. I’m not there yet, and it does sound like the finale was a mess and this one’s was a very well constructed episode (and, ofc, the Final Love Interest was NOT blurry!!). But even if by the end I come to loathe the finale, there’s one reason I already know won’t let me agree on the s5 ending being perfect: God xDD

The episode makes Chuck come across as a ~benevolent figure and no, fuck that, do NOT want, take it away from me!! Give me God as the Big Bad Wolf, the last evil to conquer any day. It’s like Dumbledore all over again: I enjoy the character a lot more if I feel canon and I are on the same page wrt his shadiness xDD

[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 2

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Masterlist

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Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

Chapters 1-9 are currently available on Patreon.  To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

TWO

“What’s this?” Sam asks. 

He could smell you from the moment his brother dragged you into their tent. Your Omega is masked by something but it’s there and it’s unmistakable. 

“An Omega the men were about to ruin.” Your captor lets you go and you stand there, eyes finding a rock on the dirt floor and staring at it. 

Two Alphas. This is not what you hoped. But maybe you can still make it out alive. 

You’re a squirmy little thing, and it’s hard to get a good look at you. At first glance, it would be easy to dismiss you as just another desperate Omega trying to get away. In Sam’s experience, your kind rarely embraces your place in the natural order of things. Yes, it would be easy to overlook you, but Sam pays attention to details. He can see past your stringy hair and tear-stained face, your bloodied knees, and dirty breasts. He’s willing to bet you’re really something to see when you’re not a snot covered mess. 

The scent coming from between your legs is thick like honeysuckles in the summer, you’re still sweet. On the verge of being broken but holding yourself together. 

Dean looks unhappy and Sam waits for what’s to follow. 

“As much as I’d love to stay and play with her, I have to ride the outer camps. If one of us doesn’t do the rounds the men start thinking they’re above the rules. We need to do something. They can’t be trusted, they didn’t even check before they started on her.” Dean pushes you forward and you nearly fall over. “She’s yours, for now at least. Unless you want to take a ride...”

“It’s your turn to go.” Sam looks to Dean for the first time. 

Dean shrugs, snorting as he shakes his head. “Better you than me. She’s a fucking mess.”

“Leave her to me.” Sam watches you with interest, your eyes bulging wide with uncertainty. Dean grabs his saddlebags and heads out. 

Moments later you’re alone with this new Alpha who’s circling you slowly, examining every inch of your battered skin. He moves as a predator, a wolf stalking its prey with slow, deliberate steps. 

“Did they fuck you?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, awash with both shame and paralyzing fear. 

“But they did touch you?” He stops directly in front of you, looking at your breasts, then to the patch of hair between your legs. 

“Yes. They touched me.” You don't know if you should look at him. Everything is a calculated choice. These sorts of men are volatile, he may not think you’re worthy to make eye contact. Further punishment is the last thing you can withstand, so you keep your eyes on the floor. 

“I’ll deal with them in the morning.” He tilts his head, wiping off his hands with a cloth before tossing it on the table. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” you whisper, a tear rolling down your cheek. You don’t want to know. 

“Samuel. The son of John Winchester,” he explains. You think you may vomit. Samuel Winchester. Of all the cruel twists of fate, this has to be one of the most merciless. You’ve heard of him, you can’t recall the specifics but you know his general reputation; brutal and sadistic.  “The man who brought you here was my brother, Dean.” He pauses and you say nothing. “You lived in Hayward Village?”

“Yes,” you nod, sneaking a peek. He’s a beast of a man. All you can do now is pray he doesn’t kill you, or do irreparable damage. 

“I need you to understand you’re never going back there,” he explains calmly. 

Hayward never felt like your home. It was a place to hide, to fade into the background. But hearing him say that makes this all too real. You will never be the same again. 

“I understand,” you confirm. 

“The rest of your life will be very different. You’re the property of Gilead now. You belong to me. Do you understand?”

It’s clear you don’t like that declaration of ownership. Your eyes snap up to his, swallowing hard. It’s always difficult for Omegas to truly understand this new world order. It’s best to be up front. False hope only creates desperation. He doesn’t need you trying to run in the middle of the night. 

He looks on with interest, the way you swallow your emotions, holding them back at all costs. In his experience not many women would be able to express such self control under these circumstances. You’re strong, whether you know it or not.

“I understand,” you agree quietly, unsuccessfully covering the tremor in your voice. “M-may I ask what I should call you?”

“Alpha,” Sam explains. “In Lebanon Omegas don’t use the names of their Alphas. It breeds familiarity and that can be a dangerous thing.” 

You shift and squeal in pain, cradling your arm. Fresh tears fall. You’re in agony and he can’t have that. He needs you in working order. 

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Inching closer he tries to get a better look. 

“I-I think i-it’s broken,” you sputter.  

“One of the men did this?” His eyes narrow, displeased by the news. “Intentionally?” 

The fucking men have been on his last nerve for weeks and now this. They think themselves equal. Deserving of such riches that they would cross this of all lines. It makes his blood boil. 

“He threw me down from the horse. I don’t think he meant to hurt me.” You’re shaking, entire body rattling in cold and in pain. 

“He should have been more careful. An Omega requires special handling. Come here, let me see it.” He sits down in a chair, his expression unflinching as he waits for you to move closer. “Move your hand so I can see the damage.”

You let go of your arm and howl as the bones shift, but he takes your elbow and wrist, holding them in a manner that offers the first relief you’ve felt in hours. It makes sense, he’s a soldier. He knows how to treat wounds on the battlefield. He’s seen a thousand broken bones worse than this. 

“Here.” He carefully tightens his grip on your elbow, sliding his hand along your forearm until he’s holding it in place. He changes the position and you think you might vomit, the pain is so great. It’s making you sweat and squirm as he feels where the bone has snapped. “This is going to hurt.” 

Before his words register, he pulls on your wrist and elbow at the same time, realigning the bone as the two pieces snap back into place with a sickening crack. 

You scream, trying to pull back but he grabs you by the hair to keep you from retreating. 

“You’ll be fine, calm down,” he orders. He doesn’t exactly care, but seeing a woman in pain doesn’t bring him pleasure like many of his men. In fact, it’s always made him uncomfortable.“I’ll find something to hold your arm in place. Sit down and don’t move.”

He points to the chair and you lower yourself into it, cradling your newly set arm, watching as he looks in trunks and sacks. Finding long, flat pieces of wood he kneels in front of you, and using a thin rope and cloth he secures the wood around your arm until it’s completely immobile. 

“What’s your name?” he asks. 

Your mind races. You need to give him something, anything but your real name. The hours in the forest come back to you. The wild things all around you, as you search for any name to give him. You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Sparrow,” you sniffle, wiping tears from your cheek. 

“Sparrow,” he repeats, looking up at you. “A fitting name given your broken wing.” One massive hand grips your knee and you jerk in surprise, looking him in the eyes. You almost forgot you were naked. “Do you know what’s expected of Omegas in my country?”

“I’ve heard stories but...no,” you answer honestly, looking at him as your heart breaks. You’ll never see your family again. Not that your father would ever take you back after this. There’s no coming back from being with a Winchester. If he did nothing more than talk to you, it would be a permanent black mark. 

And if Sam knew who you were he’d kill you on the spot. You’re damned any way you look at it. 

“You belong to us. The sooner you accept this, the easier things will be. You’re lucky, most of your village was killed. A half dozen were taken as servants. And you are the lone prize. The only thing worth the effort of that Godforsaken place.” Lucky. It’s a strange way to describe being driven from your home and nearly raped by a group of disgusting men. “Depending on how well you perform, you’ll be offered as a prize to a high ranking Alpha. Or perhaps you’re bound for greater things.”

Sam’s words are unmistakable. There’s a hunger in his eyes as he looks from your breasts down to the patch of hair between your thighs. One could find him handsome in other circumstances, but right now he’s simply terrifying. He’s large enough that he could easily take anything he wanted from you. His eyes burning with an intensity you can practically feel. 

“I understand,” you whisper. “I’ll do my best.”

“You stink. I’ll have someone clean you up.” He stands, arms folded across his chest. “Then we’ll have a good look at you.”

-

The tent doesn’t feel like a temporary shelter set in the middle of a makeshift camp. There are clothes and weapons everywhere as if the two brothers have been here for months. Carefully marked maps are spread across a long wooden table. There are markers in the form of little metal horses across it. It’s a miniature version of the war raging on around them. There’s a treasure trove of valuable information here if you could get it to someone, but it’s a fool's errand. This is where your journey ends, you can feel it in your bones. 

The only available woman in the camp is a gray-haired cook who bathes you while Sam watches from the corner of the room. The light of the fire licks across his face, his eyes never faltering as the old woman washes your hair and helps you scrub until the mud and grime are gone. 

The cook helps you bathe and leaves in a rush, never looking up. She’s more terrified of him than you are, a fact that doesn’t escape you. 

Sam was right, you’re beautiful underneath it all. Healthy Omegas have a glow about them, not that he’s seen a healthy one in years, but he remembers. Yours is faint but there’s a glimmer to you, like an aura emanating from your body. You’re holding your arm, with eyes trained on the floor but your head is held high, back straight despite the oppression of the situation. It’s that inner strength that fascinates him. You may be compliant or you might try to stab him in the middle of the night. There’s only one way to know for sure. 

“May I have something to drink?” you ask, naked and dripping in front of the fire. 

“Yes. What would you like?” He’s on his feet again, slinking closer with the stealth of cat “Wine? Water?”

“Tea. I’m very cold. Something to warm me up would be appreciated.”

He takes herbs from a pouch, grinding them into the bottom of a mug before adding hot water. Then he sits across the table watching you sip. 

“You’re beautiful,” he asserts and your breath catches, fear churning. “And unclaimed. How is it that an Omega like you hasn’t been claimed already?”

The truth is that your father kept you under lock and key. And when he was forced to send you away, he picked the one place you’d be the least likely to cross paths with an Alpha. 

“There were no Alphas in my village.” You explain the question away praying that's the end of it.  A tingling sensation is blooming to life in your belly, dulling your senses. “What is in this tea?”

“Herbs to help with the pain. I broke a rib last year, it’s the only thing that brought relief.” His eyes drop to your tits, licking his lower lip. “We’re lucky my brother had to leave. You wouldn’t have lasted an hour. He would have knotted you the moment he realized how pristine you are.”

Your cheeks flush hot as you fight off tears. While you overheard crude talk in the village, it’s rare that any man has ever spoken so frankly to, or about you in such a way. 

“Have you been with a man before?” You hesitate and he rolls his eyes. “I expect honest answers.”

“Yes,” you admit, feeling shame wash over you. At least he doesn’t know who you are, it would only serve to exacerbate your sins. A woman of your standing should be a chaste virgin, untouched by any man until her husband. But as a country girl from a small village its less of a transgression. Either way you think about it, the admission makes you feel like a whore. 

“How many?” he asks. 

Jesus, you’re not sure you can stand much more of this intimate questioning. 

“Two.” 

“Interesting.” A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, entertained by the confession. “Have you taken a knot?”

Your whole body goes tense, a fact that doesn’t escape him. You’re scared but with fear comes compliance. He’s good at reading people, maybe he won’t have to worry about you trying to slit his throat.

“No,” you whisper, barely audible. “I’ve never been with an Alpha.”

“Good.” His fingers strum the table. “I’ll be your first then.”

There, now it’s a sure thing. No more guessing. He plans to have you for himself, at least tonight. While he’s nowhere near the nightmare of men that had you envisioned earlier, there’s a darkness in him that’s simmering right there for anyone to see and it scares the daylights out of you. 

“Will you open your legs for me?” he asks evenly. “Or will I have to have to show you who’s in charge?”

“Please don’t,” you beseech, looking to him in desperation. 

“You don’t get that choice,” he counters, unhappy with any pushback. 

“I’m just in so much pain.” Your voice is shaking, hand curled into a fist at your side. “I haven’t slept in days. If you would wait until morning, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll give myself to you freely. I just...I’m not sure how much more I can take tonight. I’m so exhausted I can barely stay upright.”

He’s silent, contemplating your request. The men found you in the forest. You probably are exhausted. You could also be exaggerating, trying to buy yourself a little time before he fucks you. And yet he’s inclined to believe you. He can read the exhaustion on your face like the war maps on the table. 

“How long were you in the forest?” he asks. 

“Two days.” 

“With no shoes and no cloak?”

“There was no time. When the men attacked my home I ran with what I had on, nothing more.”

“I see.” He sits back, rubbing over the pads of his fingers as he decides what to do. “You should sleep. You’re no good to me broken and delirious. You’ve already been mishandled enough.”

If you were any other Omega he’d have you gag on his cock and make you sleep on the floor next to his bed, but you have this smell about you. That sweet lingering scent he’s never encountered before. He wants to fuck you, see what it feels like to be inside you, to give you his knot. 

“Thank you.” You close your eyes, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the tears that fall. “Thank you.”

“Are you still cold?” he asks gesturing at your bare tits. 

“Yes,” you admit, embarrassed to the point of giving up as your nipples stand out like little pebbles. “I’ve been cold for days.”

“Then come to bed and I’ll warm you.” He gets up, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks to the bed farthest from the fire. He toes off his boots and drops his trousers to the floor, stepping out of them. 

He’s a sight to behold. Long, lean muscle, just as powerful as you suspected. His cock is thick, bobbing just below his stomach. He fists himself, looking to you as you dutifully walk over to the bed, careful of your arm. 

Has he changed his mind? 

“Lay down,” he instructs, waiting as you shimmy under a heavy fur pelt. He pulls a small pillow from somewhere under the bed and places it beside you. “Turn on your side and rest your arm here.”

You do as he instructs, watching him with a wary eye as you settle into the bed. 

Sam climbs in behind you, pressing hot, naked skin against your back, letting his erection poke at your buttocks. 

“How is your arm?” he inquires as his mouth connects with your shoulder, open lips dragging over skin. Can this be happening? You jump as his teeth scrape over the back of your neck, praying that he’ll be true to his word and allow you time to recuperate. 

“It’s not as painful as it was,” you admit, feeling your eyes fall heavy. Exhaustion trumps all. “The tea helped.”

“Good. Go to sleep, little bird. The next few weeks will be difficult ones for many reasons. You should rest when you can.” 

His warning sends a thousand thoughts spiraling. A thick arm lays over your hip and you close your eyes as sleep overtakes you. For the first time in nearly three days, you’re allowed to rest.