#so I think little Sammy starts praying every night to Dean that their dad comes home soon and safe

[bloodfreak-boyking]

do you guys think when Sam was really little and starting to pray, he would pray to Dean because Dean was always the one that fixed things and made things right? Cause I sure do

[huggybearsunshine]

The Things We Left Behind Part 3

[Part3] Dean tries using his words, and Sam gets a clearer idea of what purgatory was for his brother.

“Give us a sec…” Dean finally forced out, avoiding anyone’s eyes and looking toward the ground between them instead, “Sammy, come with me…”

He walked into the motel, pulling the left-open door closed behind him as he entered the silence of the motel room.

He hadn’t found it silent before, unable to block out the buzz of the window unit or the yelling from the couple a few doors down, but everything now felt surreal- a thick nothing. Like his ears weren’t working anymore. He actually lifted his fingers to one of his ears and snapped just to make sure. It rung almost absurdly loud against the quiet.

“Dean,” he hadn’t even noticed his brother entering the room.

“Sam,” he turned and everything clicked back into sharp clarity, the colors and sounds becoming clearer and that thick feeling turned almost cold instead as he felt his heart rate increase, “I can’t talk about this with both of you staring at me… I can barely talk to him about it when it’s just him…”

“You’re scaring me… What is happening here?” Sam’s shoulders tensed, “Dean, you’re pale…”

“Purgatory was…” his eyes rolled to the ceiling at a complete lack of words for what purgatory was.

His hand shoved harshly through his hair and a huff of air escaped his lips.

“It was like war, but… but also like not being human… or maybe just that what you were didn’t matter anymore cause everyone was on the same level… all just,” he motioned vaguely, still avoiding eye contact like the plague, “Trying to survive.”

Sam noticed Dean’s hand had started to shake at his side while he spoke.

“I spent almost a year looking for Cas… praying to him every night- I mean, I had no idea if he was even still alive for sure… So when I found him, Sam- it was the happiest moment of my life…” the elder Winchester’s voice broke a little but he cleared the sound away with a violence that felt wrong against the softness of his words, “I lost that thing that makes you care about,” he motioned again with his hand, “Society crap… human things…” his hand gripped and loosened once at his side, “Things with Cas got complicated…”

“Dean, what do you mean?” Sam asked with a lost look on his face, “What does any of this mean?”

“It means Cas… and- and me…” his voice fell out from underneath him, tongue going still and heavy, “We…”

“Are you… are you telling me…” Sam almost looked like he thought he must be reading it wrong somehow, “Are you two like… together or something?”

The last half of his question was so quiet but also so very loud in an entirely different way.

“I… don’t know…” Dean answered finally after a painfully long silence, “I don’t know…”

“Oh my god…” Sam replied on a heavy breath out, “Oh wow…”

“That’s a better response than some might expect, I guess,” Dean tried to lighten the mood of the room but fell flat, “Be better if you were to maybe elaborate a bit though… Help me figure out what I’m dealing with here…”

“Dean, do you think I’d judge you or- or see you differently because you…” Sam looked absolutely devastated.

“You can’t even say it,” a muscle tensed behind his shoulders.

“Dean, no,” but the other man was already walking passed him for the door, “I’m not dad!”

This stopped him instantly in his tracks, hand reaching for the knob and shaking in frozen suspension.

“You are still the Dean who I followed into this room whether you and Cas are friends or… or something more…” Sam’s voice wavered emotionally but the conviction behind it was piercing, “I need you to tell me you understand that.”

“Yeah?” it came out as barely even a breath.

“Good,” Sam mistook the question for confirmation and his arms were suddenly wrapping Dean up into a hug.

He quickly chickened out and released the other before he could push him away.

“You want me to get him?” Sam asked, wiping a tear as discretely as he could manage, “I found a case, but we could eat first- I could… get us something and let you guys talk… figure out what’s going on with him and fill me in when I get back?“

Dean just nodded silently and Sam clapped a hand to his shoulder before disappearing from the room again, leaving him to wonder if he’d been imagining the whole scenario until suddenly he was face to face with the Angel in question.

“Dean..?” he looked almost afraid to breathe, even without the need to, “Sam… well, he hugged me rather intensely and then sent me in here… Are you okay?”

“What are we?” the words escaped before Dean could even think them through.

“We are… us…” Cas tilted his head in response, “What do you mean?”

“That’s… that’s not what I meant to…” Dean shook his head, stepping back to put distance between them, “You said something was happening… What-”

“Were you… were you asking if…” Cas looked nervous.

It was something very rare to witness, and Dean’s body buzzed knowing he caused it.

“Did you… Did you feel what I feel?” Dean asked rather disjointedly, “Do you feel-?”

“I always have,” the celestial answered so earnestly that Dean’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Always?” Dean choked out.

“Yes, Dean,” he almost smiled, “I’m whatever you want me to be to you… But I do need to tell you something before-”

“Castiel,” Naomi’s voice suddenly chastised and he was once again in the office with her instead of with Dean.

“I really hate when you do that…” he clamped his eyes closed as a fist formed at his side.

“We rescued you. Consider these chats repayment,” she bit back, “And since your… loyalty to those… to that human has been a continued issue, you will report in to me regularly but will no longer remember doing so.”

“Wait, no,” Cas jerked, “You can’t do that…”

“Cas, what is it doing?” a vision of Dean and the room flashed before him, “Cas, talk to me…”

“Tell him nothing…” her voice rang out in his head as he straightened up, fully back to the motel room.

“It’s nothing.”

————————

@spuffy-destiel I think this is gonna be another one of those I can’t stop writing 😂

@destieliscanon5nov @skylerkernaghan

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Breathe

Dean x Castiel

Word Count: ~2580

Warnings: Dean feels. Angst with a happy ending. 

A/N: This is my finale fix-it to tie up some loose ends and patch some holes. 100% canon compliant, but... better! 

Thanks to @rockhoochie​ for the read and @thoughtslikeaminefield​ for all the cheerleading. 

Dean wants to scream, wait. 

Wait, Cas. 

Just a minute. 

I need a minute to breathe, Cas. 

I need more time. Please. 

It’s all too much, too much to process, too much to feel, and then the Empty is sending tendrils of black oozing nothingness up Cas’s face, smothering him, taking him away, and… 

There isn’t any more time. He’s gone. 

Dean is out of time, and he can’t breathe, let alone speak, and Cas is gone before Dean can say, I love you too. 

—

Of course Dean loved him, but… 

Family, they’d always said. It never occurred to Dean that it could’ve been… that. That it could’ve been more. Something new. 

Whenever he starts thinking about it, trying to examine his feelings a little closer, he feels like he’s drowning. The loss is so big, right now. There’s no room for anything else, and it’s terrifying, how easily it could pull Dean under. 

Dean tells himself there will be time. After they get Chuck, after they end this thing… yeah. He’ll have time. He’ll figure it out. 

Later. When it doesn’t hurt so much. 

— 

Dean’s not really sure what to do with his free will, now he has it. He doesn’t feel any different. He thought it’d feel different somehow. 

He’s tired. He’s not a goddamn hero any more; there’s no all-powerful asshole putting cosmic Tiger Balm on his sore muscles for the sake of the fucking narrative. He aches, now, and some mornings he wakes up feeling like he’s been holding the actual weight of the world on his shoulders. 

All that loss is a heavy thing to carry around. He’s getting too old to play Atlas. 

It gets easier, but not by much. There are still things that Dean can’t say out loud. He hasn’t even said the name. 

His dad always said it was selfish to waste time on shit like that. Can’t be sittin’ around feeling sorry for yourself when there are people to save, things to hunt… 

Plenty of things to hunt, that’s for damn sure. It feels mundane after what they’ve been up against, but there are plenty of monsters; they keep Dean busy enough that he doesn’t have time to dwell. 

No apocalypses. No gods, no angels. Just Sam and Dean and their dog, and one hunt after another. 

—

“I know you’re not telling me everything,” Sam says quietly, over breakfast one morning. “You gotta talk about Cas at some point, Dean.” 

“Soon.” He clears his throat. “Soon. I need some time before I can talk about… him.” 

“Dean.” 

“Cas. Before I can talk about losing Cas. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

It’s quiet for a few minutes as they eat their eggs. 

“How’s Eileen?” Dean asks quietly. 

Sam sighs. “We’re taking it slow. Maybe it’s stupid. I know she’s alive, but…” 

“You lost her.” 

“I lost her. And that’s all mixed up with… with how much I love her. I don’t know how to feel one without the other right now.” 

Dean almost laughs at that. Trust Sam to find exactly the right words for what Dean hasn’t been able to admit to himself. 

Love isn’t just love, it’s loss, and the fear of loss, and the knowledge that most people leave. They leave, and it hurts like hell. Dean doesn’t even remember what it’s like to love someone without expecting to lose them. Loss goes hand in hand with love, especially if you’re a fucking Winchester. 

“Like I said,” Dean tells him. “You need time. We both do.” 

Something shifts in Sam’s expression, like he understands, and Dean looks away. 

—

Dad always insisted that Dean make his bed in the morning. It had to be neat, everything tucked in tight… his dad learned it in the military. He taught Dean in turn, beat it into him until the lesson stuck, and Dean’s never been able to shake the habit. 

Until now. 

His dog is ready to go out and chase a frigging frisbee for a while. Dean doesn’t want to spend another five minutes making sure his bed is up to goddamn military standards. He wants to throw a frisbee and drink some coffee and hit the frigging road. 

So that’s what he’s going to do. 

It’s scary, but in a good way, like the last moment when a rollercoaster pauses before it drops. 

What’s the use of free will if he’s still following orders from a memory? 

—

That night, when he comes in and sees his rumpled sheets, Dean can’t breathe. He grabs the bottle of whiskey from the nightstand and heads right back out again. 

He knows Jack talked about being everywhere, but it feels better in the open air. Easier, somehow. The knot in Dean’s chest loosens slightly when he turns his face up to the moon. 

“Jack?” he says tentatively. “Jack, I dunno if you’re listening, buddy, but… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… all of it. Being a fuckin’ hardass. Treating you like you weren’t part of the family. You were always part of the family. You hearin’ this?” 

There’s no real answer, but Dean didn’t really expect one. He takes a slug of whiskey, wipes his mouth, takes another, and for a second he thinks it’s the alcohol, giving him that funny warm feeling.  

“Hi, Jack,” he manages. “I’d pour one out for you, but… seems like a fuckin’ waste, if you’re… I dunno. In everything, or whatever.”

This is a happy sort of warmth; it lingers. 

“My dad would say I’m being selfish, right now. Feelin’ sorry for myself. Looking back. Wasting my time wishing things could be different. But…” 

Dean looks up at the stars again. They go blurry. 

“I just — fuck. Fuck it. I don’t know what to say.” 

He sits down on the ground, head in his hands, and takes a moment to be selfish. 

—

Dean feels a little thrill the first few times he leaves his bed unmade. After about a week, it starts to feel like a new habit. 

In the morning, he ignores his dad’s voice in his head. At night, he takes his fifth of Jameson outside and sits under the stars. 

It’s quiet, nothing but crickets and wind to keep him company, but he’s not alone. Jack’s right there, waiting, whenever Dean takes the time to listen. 

He gets that glow in his chest every night. It feels like Jack’s smile did, when he waved goodbye: warm and bright and pure. It feels like his mom’s hugs used to, back when he was a kid. It feels like comfort. 

Little by little, day by day, it gets easier. The kid’s always there, waiting for him, even if Dean doesn’t know what to say. 

What would happen if he prayed to Cas? 

No. No point in wondering. Dean knows that the answer is nothing. Nothing — abso-fucking-lutely fuck-all. There would be no answer, no rustle of wings, no raspy “Hello, Dean” — he would pray, and it would be silent, because Cas is gone. 

Dean missed his chance.

—

“You out there, Jack?” 

He’s out there. Dean’s starting to trust that he’ll always be there. 

“I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to be me, not him. I don’t want to be him. ” 

He has to pause and take a deep breath. He’s been thinking about how to say it all day, and the words still don’t come easy. 

“I want to be the person you thought I could be. You and Cas, you always thought —” He takes a long drink. “— fuck. My dad didn’t — he didn’t say that enough, and I wish he’d taught me how to — how to tell people. I love you, Jack. I’m sorry. I should’ve said that sooner. To you, and… to a lot of people, probably.” 

The tears start to spill over, hot and stinging, and it’s okay, Dean reminds himself. Jack’s still there. He’s not leaving. 

“It hurts too much,” he admits, and his voice breaks. “Thinking about what I could’ve had, if I hadn’t… wasted all that time. I should’ve told Cas.” 

Dean doesn’t fight the tears. He lets himself cry until there’s nothing left, until his eyes are puffy and his voice is raw. 

When he gets up, brushes himself off, wipes his cheeks, he feels lighter. It still hurts, but he feels lighter. 

“Love you, Jack,” Dean says quietly, into the silence. “Talk to you tomorrow.” 

—

Sam is watching a family — the mom and dad and kid all holding hands, their smiles bright in the sunshine — and he looks sad. 

Dean knows what Sam would say, if he asked. 

Someday, maybe. I wouldn’t mind having kids… someday. 

When Dean thinks about family, he thinks about the past: the childhood that he dimly remembers, when everyone he loved was under one roof. He doesn’t think, someday. Not like Sam does. Most of Dean’s family is long gone, and if they ever held hands at a pie festival, Dean doesn’t fucking remember it. 

Dean tries not to dwell on it, but he’ll always remember heaven, all those years ago. Dean’s heaven was going back home to be with his family again. Sam’s heaven was running away to try to find a home of his own. 

Dean wants to tell him to go. He wants Sam to be happy almost as much as he wants Sam to stay. 

“I’m thinking about Cas. You know? Jack. If they could be here.” 

Fuck. 

For a moment, Dean lets himself imagine: holding Cas’s hand, making him laugh, walking in the park, sitting on an old porch swing, eating pie. Maybe they would have beehives. Maybe Dean would get a guitar.

Maybe they could’ve had a life together. Maybe they could’ve been happy. 

“I think about ‘em too,” Dean says quietly. 

It still hurts. Fuck, it hurts. 

— 

It takes Dean a moment to process what he’s feeling. The rebar punched through skin and muscle, and at first it just feels strange. The pain hits later. The fight’s over by the time Dean really understands what’s happening. 

He considers his options. 

He could call an ambulance. He could call Jack. He could barter and bargain and claw his way back one more time. 

He could rest. 

It’s not gonna be pretty, this way. He can feel it in there, cold and intrusive, chilling him from the inside. It’s gonna get messy real fast. 

Dean closes his eyes and tries to breathe. It’s harder than it should be. 

Jack, he thinks. Jack, I need a favor, buddy. Give me a minute, okay? And… let me go easy, maybe. If we could just skip the coughing up blood, and… yeah. I don’t want Sammy to have to watch that. Can you do that for me? Just… let me go easy, and… give me a minute to talk to my brother.

He feels that now-familiar warmth. The pain recedes, and the chill with it. 

Thanks, Jack, he thinks, and then he opens his eyes. 

“Sam,” he says quietly. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere.” 

— 

So this is it.  

He wants to see Mom and Dad, of course. He wants to give his mom a hug. He wants to just… sit with his dad. No pressure, no hunt, no rules, no orders. Maybe things can finally be simple again. As soon as Sam gets here, they’ll all be together — all those people he never thought he’d be able to hold again, all in one place. 

Dean doesn’t have to worry about losing them ever again. 

They’ll stay. 

No more goodbyes. No more loss. 

And for the first time in his life, Dean’s not in a rush to get somewhere else. He’s got nothing but time. 

He’s going to wait for Sammy. He’s going to figure out what he’s going to say to Cas. He’s going to breathe. 

Dean goes for a drive. 

— 

“Hey, Sammy.” 

“Dean.” 

They breathe. They take their time. They’re in no rush. 

Eventually, though, it’s time to hit the road again. 

“You want to pick the music?” Dean asks. 

Sam laughs as the engine rumbles to life. “Man, you must’ve missed me.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I really fuckin’ did.” 

“Are we gonna talk about this?” Sam pulls out the mix tape Dean made for Cas, all those years ago, and holds it up with a knowing smirk. He pops the cassette into the tape deck and turns up the volume. 

“Dude, you have decades worth of shit to tell me about,” Dean grumbles.

“Yeah. And you’ve got some unfinished business to deal with. Let’s go find Cas.”  

“Bitch.” 

“Jerk.” 

—

Dean’s not sure how long they’ve been driving, but he knows exactly what he wants to say — he has a speech, he has it all planned out — by the time they round a corner and see the house. Dean just stops. If they weren’t in heaven, the brakes would squeal like a motherfucker. 

He stares for a moment. It’s the house where Dean grew up, but… better. 

It’s the only house on the block now; no neighbors, plenty of privacy. It’s surrounded by a big, sprawling garden, all fenced in, and the fence needs some repairs, he can see already. There’s a stream running through the backyard, big enough that there’s probably some decent-sized trout lurking in the eddies. 

There’s a garage, too, and a car inside under a sheet, surrounded by tools, waiting for him. It looks like Baby, and Dean does a double take before deciding that he’s not going to question the logistics here. It’s heaven. Of course he has one Baby to drive, one Baby to tinker with and detail endlessly. 

There’s a porch, a big wraparound one with a swing out front. The house itself needs a fresh coat of paint; it’s starting to look a little worn around the edges, but it’s surface damage, nothing structural. It’s like the laugh lines Dean sees in the mirror when he smiles, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He earned those lines. 

Dean can’t wait to spend long quiet days in the sunshine, fixing this house up, putting some love into it, making it his own. 

There are two whitewashed beehives tucked into a corner of the garden, under an arbor, and suddenly Dean’s heart is racing. 

“I think this is my stop,” he says. His voice is a little wobbly. 

“I’ll get out and walk the rest of the way,” Sam tells him with a grin. “I’ve got a funny feeling my place is just around the corner.” 

“Love you, Sammy.” 

“Love you.” He gives Dean a hug. “See you soon.” 

The gate squeaks when he flicks the latch and swings it open. I can fix that, Dean thinks absentmindedly, as a dog starts barking. 

His dog. Miracle. He recognizes that bark. 

Cas is waiting on the porch. He’s beaming, brighter than sunshine, just like the last time Dean saw him, but this time Dean’s smiling too. 

He had a speech. He forgets most of it, now.

Dean takes the last step too quickly. He almost stumbles, and Cas grabs him by the upper arm, laughing, holding him steady. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean’s so happy he can barely breathe. 

“I love you too,” he says, and before their lips meet he says it again, just because he can: “I love you, too, Cas.” 

He knows there’s more he wanted to say, but it can wait. They’ve got time. 

.

.

.

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[newobsessionweekly]

The pain she left behind

Title: The pain she left behind

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader, Sam x Platonic!Reader, Castiel x Platonic!Reader, Jack x Platonic!Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: language, character death, grieveing, Dean crying, angst, death, a little bit of explicit content,  violence, fluff, spoilers s14

Prompt 1: Loving me is a death sentence.

Prompt 2: We found each other. That’s all that matters.

A/N: This is my enterance for SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge. I don’t usually write and all that, but I wanted to try something new and I don’t know... I tried my best, I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag: @supernatural-jackles

Something Dean has told himself and everyone around when they asked, is that he doesn’t need that in his life. He doesn’t need love, he doesn’t need to find a girl; he tried that before and it didn’t work out. But what he needs is to have his mind clear, focused on cleaning America from monsters, he needs to keep his family safe. But he failed, he met you and all his life was turned upside down. And sometimes he regrets the day they met you, because now, you are just too hard to forget.

Laying on the kitchen floor, heavily breathing from the enormous weight that’s pressing on his chest, Dean’s playing with a bottle of beer, switching it annoyingly from one hand to another over and over again, just as you’re switching in his head, from one memory to one another. He locked himself in his room for the past 3 days, binge watching some random horror movies wanting to wash away the need to cry, to scream, and beg God to bring you back to him, but it was pointless, he still cried himself to sleep. So he decided it’s time for something stronger; he needs to be back in tracks as soon as possible and be ready to fight the monster that took you away, there’s no time to grieve.

“Dean!” Sam yelled his name again while descending the stairs to the kitchen, abruptly snapping him from his memories of you.

He refuses to answer, he refuses to talk to anyone and Sam understands it, because he feels the empty space you left in their lives too, but he’s maybe more afraid than Dean to show it. Sam wants to be strong for his brother, he wants to be there for him, especially these days. Only the third time after hearing his name, Dean bothered to look up at his younger brother and allow him to see all the broken pieces of his heart spread all over the place.    

“Sammy, I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Dean’s voice is rough and shaky, tears threatening to burst in any moment and Dean’s aware that he’s going to lose it soon, but still hoping that Sam will not be around.    

“Dean, you have to – “

“I don’t have to do anything today.” He raised his index finger and stopped Sam, then he pointed to the fridge: “Now pass me another beer and leave.”

Sam did so and Dean thanked him with just a movement of his head, before turning his attention to the abandoned metallic box full of memories from his lap. A bunch of photos with Sammy, some with his mom and dad, few with his friends that soon became family, and even fewer with you. Dean doesn’t like photos that much, he’s not that kind of guy who’d let himself be photographed everywhere and every time, but now he wishes he was that kind and wishes he’d have done a lot more photos beside you. There are only six instant photos of you, with a red ribbon wrapped around them; six, one for every anniversary and one from the first proper Christmas the Winchesters ever had.

He’d have wanted to be that stupid kind of men and take photos of you everywhere: in your favourite pyjamas, curled up in a chair from the library with a leg under you, so deeply focused in research, trying so hard to fit in with his life; standing in front of a pan in the mornings when Sam would be out of town, only in your beautiful underwear, moving your hips while making breakfast for him; curled up in a soft, warm blanket on a chair, sound asleep far too many hours before Sam and Dean would come home after so many weeks of being away.

“Dean!”  

“Dean!”

You jumped from one of the chairs on the war room at the sound of the bunker’s door loudly opening. You almost caught roots on that place waiting for Dean and Sam to show up. You woke up alone this morning, no sight of any of the brothers or your angelic friend so you waited and waited before panic started to grow inside of you. You prayed to Cas and asked him if something happened, you started to pace around the war room when no answer was coming and then you sat on that chair and wondered what the hell happened with everyone. Bad scenarios running through that beautiful mind of yours and you were preparing for the worst.

But you were never prepared for what entered that door; Sam, Dean and Cas were fighting over heels to carry a giant fir tree, you could bet it is even taller than Sam. Your jaw dropped at the sight of Dean, all covered in snow and sweat beads painting his forehead, trying his best not to drop the lower part of the tree.

“What happened? Are you ok? How hard did Sam hit you in the head?” You tried to hide the fact that you were scared as hell with a sarcastic tone, and thankfully Dean bite it, but Cas not so much, because he was throwing you Cas-type of awkward glances.

Dean always rejected the idea of having a proper and normal holiday celebration so as you skipped Halloween, again, you pleaded and pleaded, every night and every day to celebrate at least Christmas, your favourite holiday. But a week or two ago, you gave up when you saw you were getting not even a negative response to your question.

Library was transformed and instead of two big and cold tables with some uncomfortable chairs around, there was a long table decorated with two beautiful candlesticks and little angels and snowflakes. The dish was prepared by Dean with a little help from you, and all around the bunker were hanged beautiful lights, some Santa figurines and angels. Christmas tree was decorated by you and Dean who got involved in this holiday celebration thing more than you even expected.

Sitting around the Christmas tree, after everybody praised the food, you were smiling proudly to have these special people around you. Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex, Patience and Kaia are your second family, and every time Sam and Dean would leave for a serious case, they’d prefer you to stay with the girls. Not because they don’t trust you, just because they’d be more peacefully than knowing you home alone so many days in the bunker. You and Alex became very good friends especially because none of you is hunting. Your boyfriend wants to keep you out of this life as much as possible and is trying to make everything as normal as he can.

Dean ripped you from your thoughts when he wrapped his hand around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. You smiled at him excitedly and then exchanged presents with the girls. Then you gave Jack his present, a blue sweater to match yours, and he sadly looked at you. You panicked a little when you saw his face and your body strained, catching Dean’s attention.

“Why are you sad? You don’t like it?” you asked Jack.

“No,no! I love it!” he immediately said, stopping you from making films inside your head. “But I didn’t know we were buying each other gifts. I thought only Dean was supposed to buy you a present, because he’s your boyfriend.”

“Oh, so Dean bought me a present, huh?” you turned to look at your boyfriend and showed him your most beautiful and mischievous smile. “Sam, you really should tell me with what you hit him in the head because it may use me too in the future.”

Everyone laughed at your joke and Dean could swear he had never seen you so happy in his life. He knows Christmas is your favourite holiday and he and Sam were always preoccupied with hunting and saving the world to even think about these holidays, but you understood and never complained. You anyway got to celebrate it at Jody’s place, so you never said anything to Dean, mostly because it was pointless; you loved Dean so much and you accepted him as he is, you accepted his life and embraced it, though he kept you at a secure distance from his life, especially to protect you, and offered you a life as normal as possible, but it was impossible after a certain point ...

Sam watched Dean from distance as he flipped through the Polaroids, with tears cascading on his cheeks, knotting under his chin and loud sobs shaking his body in pain. It breaks Sam’s heart, but he needs it, he needs to cry, to express his feelings, to get it over his chest, even for a moment.

Jack accompanied Sam and Cas and watched over Dean, but they stopped themselves to intervene when a bottle of beer loudly crashed on the floor and wetted everything around. All three of them startled when the sound reached their ears, but they stood still.

It was odd for Dean to break like that in a place where anyone could enter any moment, but nothing was normal anymore, it wasn’t normal for him to lose like that the love of his life, so he allowed himself to do all sorts of strange things in order to calm down even for a second.

“Deano!” you giggled happily in his ear as your body embraced him from behind, your naked body combined with his, just as clothless as yours. It is barely eight and he would probably curse for the rest of the morning if your plan on waking him up will work. It is your fifth anniversary and after long and deep talks with Sam, you decided it’s time to do a little more today.

After you prepared your special breakfast while Sam was leaning on the kitchen counter giving you small advices here and there, he decided to leave you two alone, teasing you, saying you can be as noisy as you please.  

You leaned over him and pressed your lips on his back, chaotically tracing kissed all over his shoulders and going up to his neck and cheeks and then right back from the beginning. Leaving wet spots all over his body, Dean rolled on his back, making you to fall on top of him, your breasts pressing firmly on his chest.

“Well, that is a very interesting way to wake me up, sweetheart.” Dean yawned and looked at you first only with his right eye, then with his left one, finding it very hard to keep them both open.  

You are a simple couple, but more like an old married couple who just puzzle up one another like you’ve known each other for your whole lives. Dean and you as well are not the kind to celebrate and do big stuff about it, just cooking together a breakfast, finally making time for you in such a long time and mostly spending the day together, talking and fixing the problems that you encountered on the way. You are just communicating, that’s your celebration. And this is all you need. But this morning, Dean felt it’s going be a little different. He can smell the breakfast already cooked and he frowned at the smell of fresh, hot coffee.

He kissed you with love, cupping your cheek and rubbing his finger over it, as he always does when he wants to melt your heart, because he knows your weaknesses so well. You cuddle in a little more before you decided to get out of bed and eat your breakfast, stalling a bit to telling one more time – or ten more times – how much you love each other.

“I wanted to spoil you today.” You told him as you put your underwear on and wrapped the red satin robe, the one Dean loves, around your body.

“You know what –“ Dean begins, chewing loudly his bacon. “I’ve been thinking –“ he stops again, sipping his coffee, giving you appreciative sounds as in he’s enjoying very much the coffee you made.

“Oh, no! Always ends bad when you’re thinking.” You teased him and laughed so hard when he gives you the Winchester bitch face. “Ok, we are serious this morning. I’m listening.”

“I was thinking... maybe we should get married.” He says.

Your heart stops at the sound of his words and you almost choke with coffee, slightly coughing to get lost the lump that formed in your throat. You dreamed of marrying Dean from the first moments when you met him. He’s exactly what you’re looking for in a man, he is smart, funny and you can feel his love for you, though he doesn’t show it that much. You love him terribly much and never crossed your mind that this day would come, despite the fact you wanted it so bad. You understand that his life is dangerous, complicated and he doesn’t have time for this kind of things in the first place. You never thought about changing a thing about him or his life and never said anything, because nothing bothered you in the first place. Dean loves you, Dean treats you so right and protects you that you never needed anything and accepted him with his good and a little less good things without questioning, because it is a part of loving.

You adore him with every inch of your being, and the fact that he thought about marring you shocked you, that for the first time, you couldn’t get the words find your mouth. He looked at you, still chewing his food, but he had more of a worried look.

“Ar-are you sure?” you asked and he grabbed your hand over the table and caressed your soft skin.

“Yes, I am a hundred percent sure.” He frowned a little before he continued: “You?”

“Yes!” you immediately responded, leaving no place for any other thoughts. “Yes, I want to marry you, Dean Winchester.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that.” He chuckled and pressed his lips over yours, and then over your forehead. “I discussed with my mom about it, when she was around... She gave me her ring.”

He excitedly bit his bottom lip and then he told you to wait for him, just rising his index finger and then hurried over your bedroom. You smiled like a fool and your stomach flipped almost painfully just at the thought that he discussed this with his mother, especially knowing how important his mother was.  

He came back too soon and ripped out of your thoughts and he shyly asked for your hand. Dean placed the ring on your ring finger and you kissed him so many times, as he dragged you on his lap.

You planned your wedding to be something simple, just a dinner with some friends at the bunker, but soon enough, it turned out to be a dinner with all of your friends at the bunker. You are wearing a simple white casual dress and Dean is wearing his FBI costume, nothing fancy, because fancy was never the Winchester style.

“I am not good at words, especially not at speeches.” He paused a little and everyone laughed. “But I need to say that I love you to death, Y/n Winchester! And I am so grateful that we found each other, that’s all that matters. “

“I love you to death, Dean Winchester!”

And you indeed loved him to death.

In Dean’s head was repeating over and over again the way your body collapsed into the ground, as the last tears fell onto your cheeks when your eyes shut closed. Dean could imagine only a quarter of the pain you left the world with, but he never understood your enormous love for him, not even in your last moments when you looked at him and told him how much you love him.

As Chuck paced the grass and waited, you stand still as you had the gun He gave to you pointed at Jack. The nephilim is dangerous, he is a monster and must be stopped.

“Y/n!” Sam and Dean shouted as they came running towards you. “Y/n, no!”

“I understand...” Jack said, looking up to you from where he stayed on his knees, Sam and Dean calling your name in the background. “I know what I’ve done.”

“No, no, no, no! Y/n!” your husband came running to you, but he stopped as he heared your voice:

“Stay back, Dean!” you said, looking at Jack.

“And you were right, all along. I am a monster.” Jack said.

“Do something!” Dean told Chuck, but he frowned when He shushed him. “Are you enjoying this?”

You took the safety off as you overheard their conversation and looked at Jack one more time; he was standing in his knees in front of you, with his hands folded on his lap, looking innocently at you. He is just a kid, he’s no monster. You frowned; all of this is just Chuck’s plan. You put the safety back on and lowered the gun, throwing it away on the grass.  

“No,no! Pick it up!” Chuck said and approached the two of you and Jack looked at him with a frowning painted on his face. “Pick it up! This isn’t how the story is suppose to end!”

“The story?” Castiel asked.

“Look at the Gathering Storm, the gun... this is epic!”

“Wait what are you saying?” Dean asked Chuck, moving his sight from you to Him.

“He’s saying that he’s been playing us...” Sam responded and Chuck sighs “...this whole time.”

“Come on – “ Chuck started but he’s been interrupted by Sam:

“Our entire lives... mom, dad, everything. This is all you, because... you wrote it all, right? Because... because, what? Because we’re your favourite show? Because we’re part of your story?”

“Y/n, no offense, but your brother-in-law is stupid and crazy. This kid is still dangerous. So pick up the gun.” You looked at the gun but didn’t make any move. “Pick is up. Pull the trigger. And I’ll bring her back. I’ll bring Mary back.”

Everyone’s faces fell contemplatively, and you really thought about it as a possibility. Jack moved his looking to you and tried to understand what were you thinking.

“No!” Dean responded immediately.

“I’m not talking to you, Dean. I know how much you want this for Dean, because you love him so much and you want him to be happy and all crap. So pull the trigger and I’ll bring her back.”

“No.” You said and Chuck frowned.

“My mom was my hero, and I miss her, and I will miss her every second of my life, but she would not want this, she would not want this for Y/n. She wouldn’t want for her to have her hands stained with innocent blood and live with the thought of killing someone innocent, someone she loves so much, for the rest of her life. And it’s not like you even really care, ‘cause Sam’s right. The Apocalypse, Lucifer and Michael, you knew everything that was going on. So why the games, Chuck? Huh? Why don’t you just snap your fingers and end it?”

”Look...” Chuck started, but he was again stopped by Sam.

“And every other bad thing we’ve been killing, or dying over...” he scoffed. “Where were you? Just sitting back and watching us suffer? So we can do this over and over and over again? Fighting, losing people we love? When does it end? Tell me!”

“Y/n, don’t do this – “ Chuck said, but no one let Him finish one sentence.

“No, we’re done talking. ’Cause this... this isn’t just a story... it’s our lives! Leave my wife alone. So God or no God, go to hell!” Dean said, both of the Winchesters having their serious faces put on, while chuck smiled mischievously in the corner of the lips.

“Have it your way!” He said, then snapping his fingers.

Everybody watched as your body collapsed lifelessly into the ground, and Dean shouted your name, but the pain was too deafening. Everyone was shocked, and Sam reacted as adrenaline was pumping in his body. He picked up the gun and drunken in pain, he shot Chuck in order to kill, for you, for his best friend. Unfortunately, he shot God in shoulder, and Sam as well felt a killing pain in his shoulder.

Dean cried his pain out of his body, his soul and he tried to cry you out of his mind too, but it was too hard. He tried to erase that hurtful memory of you, but it just wouldn’t get off, it would play over and over again, just to kill him slowly and slowly every second. He broke down one more time, loudly sobbing and frantically shaking his body.

Sam ran towards him and crashed beside him, Sam as well having tears staining his cheeks at the sight of his big brother broken like this. There were too many bottles of beer drunk and Dean was not feeling alright at all. Sam’s arms moved around Dean’s body and embraced him, trying not to let him broke into pieces.  

“It’s alright, Dean! I’m here. I’m here, Dean!” Sam shushed him and tried to keep him from shaking.

“Everyone around me is getting hurt and they are dying, Sammy. Loving me is a death sentence, Sammy.”

“Dean... listen to me!” Sam cupped his cheeks and moved his head from his shoulder so that he can look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, look at me. I love you and I’m not going anywhere, alright? Y/n loves you from a better place, alright? I bet you’re gonna get into the same heaven someday, alright?” Dean slowly nodded his head and looked at Sam between the eyelashes, finally he stopped crying. “Let’s go get your strength back and we’re going to kill that son of a bitch, alright?” Dean nodded again and let Sam put him to bed, hoping maybe it will hurt less tomorrow.

[opheliadying]

How to Make the Supernatural Series Finale Better:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How the Episode Could Have Been 1000x Better:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lifblogs]

#SPNDBCC | Domestic | @foundfamily4eva

READ ON AO3

To Sam Winchester’s utmost surprise, he was starting to enjoy doing laundry. Yes, it was something he’d always had to do, but without having to hunt, it was different. There was no sorting through his pile of clothes that had just grown larger over two to three weeks without getting washed to see what ones had to be thrown out. Before, he’d keep the jeans with a bullet hole, or a tear, a still reddish-brown bloodstain. It was small, so what was the point in throwing it away? However, he did used to have to throw away severely bloodied clothes that hydrogen peroxide, antibacterial soap, and stain remover couldn’t take care of.

He threw those shirts and jeans out now too. Even had to throw out some boxers. (Blood could seep in deep.) His laundry had only been unwashed for a week now, and he actually had time to do it. Some part of him still found it unbelievable.

So after sorting through his clothes, finding which ones he had to throw away, he sorted by fabrics and colors. He liked doing it, and this time of retrospection, doing this alone in his room, he found himself humming a Green Day song. Wow, he hadn’t listened to Green Day in forever. It was always Dean’s music that serenaded his ears with extraordinary guitar techniques, and while he did like it, he liked soft rock, older alternative… that kind of stuff.

The night before he’d actually had time to listen to his own music choices, and he’d fallen asleep to Billy Joel.

After sorting, he decided it was time for breakfast. It was nothing fancy, just eggs, bacon, and toast. But he got to eat breakfast with Dean, and they didn’t have to rush, or outright skip it. There was no hunt to go on, no pressing matters, no world to save, no hurts to fix. With Cas back, Dean was happier than ever, and he was trying to indoctrinate Cas into the domestic life, teaching him how to sort and do laundry, how to iron clothes. Sam found it absurdly amusing. Cas still didn’t seem to know what he was doing.

Lately, Dean had even been out shopping, buying Cas t-shirts, jeans, flannel… Sam actually liked seeing him in his new clothes. He looked part of the family. Which he was.

Cas had sat beside Dean for breakfast, probably with a hand on his brother’s thigh. Once Sam finished up, he cleaned the dishes. His shoulders and chest felt free, not like there was a fifty-pound weight on him. He was light, airy. Relaxed. No more problems would come their way. Cas had fixed Heaven, which Sam was very proud of him since Heaven was what had hurt Castiel so much. He’d now faced it and fixed it for himself, and he seemed to be healing at an accelerated pace. With their son as God (who popped in just about every day for game night, movie night, popcorn, to snuggle his teddy bear, to eat Krunch Cookie Crunch and find the toy in the box, to go out shopping for groceries with his dads) there certainly wouldn’t be any problems. 

As Sam went to go brush his teeth, and then throw his first pile of laundry into the wash, he just sat on the dryer, contemplative.

He should teach Jack. He’d started at one point, even reading up on how to handle gifted children. Yes, he’d learned about his powers, and hunting, but he was three. There was so much more he needed to know, and the chance of regular schooling had never existed for him.

Throughout the day, Sam finished his laundry, waiting in between the loads by watching movies in the Dean Cave with his family.

“Sammy, I can’t believe you’re being so responsible,” Dean mused, a little bit of disbelief sharp in his tone.

Sam gave him a flat stare, which made Cas let out a chortling sound. “Dean, I’ve always been responsible with chores.”

Dean shrugged. “Not always. I’m the one usually doing the cooking and cleaning.”

Sam put a hand out, arguing, “Yeah, that’s ‘cause you like it.”

His brother tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, you’re right. I do. Speaking of, I think the library needs to be dusted.”

The credits were rolling for the movie, and Cas took care of turning off the TV and the player after popping the disk out. He put it away in the entertainment center, and then he followed Dean out.

Sam went to his room to fold his clothes, enjoying how soft they were, how clean they were. He’d been able to luxuriate with them; using fabric softener, dryer sheets, a strong and fresh smelling laundry detergent.

Afterwards, he went to the library, compiled a few books, and some articles and lessons on his laptop, along with notebooks, a pen, pencil, and a highlighter, and he prayed to Jack.

Jack arrived immediately, raising his hand in greeting, smiling so brightly.

“How are things?” Sam asked.

“Good. They’re good.”

“So… I thought, maybe, you should do school,” Sam surmised, rubbing the back of his head. “You never had the chance, and you’re… in a way… technically a toddler. I think it’d be nice for you to learn some subjects.”

Jack’s smile grew, and he took a seat beside him. “Of course, Sam!”

So Sam taught him, and Dean actually decided to teach Jack literature. Sam was smiling at that. He’d always known Dean was a book worm when it came to classics and ancient texts. Now he had time to relax and explore that more.

Sam started off with teaching Jack math, and then switched to the sciences. Castiel stepped in to teach him history. Then, at Jack’s request, Castiel added Latin and Enochian to his classes. Sam was able to help a great deal with that.

Jack would visit for his classes every day, and he’d laugh with his dads, and hug them, and even help Dean and Cas with chores. He let Sam do his laundry and go clothes shopping for him as well.

They were relaxed. This was the domestic life, and Sam never wanted to give it up for anything.

[explodingcolors]

The Aftermath

-1-

"Fuck, this is boring" Dean mumbled to the open field and drank his cold beer. He was leaning on the Impala parked on the side of the road. He'd been in heaven some months now, and already he had traveled through heaven's version of the U.S. twice now, but without the things that go bump in the night, without Sammy, and without Cas he felt kind of pointless and ...lonely. He wasn't though, not really, he regularly went to mom and dad's, and Bobby's, and to Ellen and Jo's, and to other people that were already there, but the place certainly lacked something. The most emotion he'd gotten was when he fought his way into Angel's HQ looking for Cas and Jack, he didn’t find them so he coerced a couple of angels to regularly inform him about how Sammy was, and whatever little they knew about what Cas and Jack were up to.

He closed his eyes and prayed aloud "Cas, man, I know you're busy with Jack and... stuff... but if you could come by sometime, just to let me know you're okay, just for a second... come on, buddy, I'm at highway XX at the XX marker", he finished his beer much slowlier than needed and climbed into the car, with his head on the steering wheel, he waited.

Every day he prayed to Cas, he told him what was going on with the family, or what he was up to, a memory from the good old days, or a random thought, and where he was, always where he was... just in case. Sometimes he was angry, demanding, sometimes he was almost pleading, the sadness and loneliness seeping out in his words, but he never talked about Cas's last moments on Earth, he couldn't talk about that, wouldn’t even think about that. He usually also sent a little prayer to the kid, some stupid story to make him laugh, or a memory of the few they shared, those prayers were shorter and easier, left him feeling a bit lighter.

Every day he had no answer.

When enough time had passed he snorted, turned the key, and started off. Some miles ahead he turned on the stereo, Metallica started playing loudly, but he wasn't singing along, his face was tight, jaw clenched, his soul felt heavy, hope was a bitch that got him every time. "Hello, Dean", a voice strained through the music. The car swiveled left then right crazily fast as Dean forced control over the steering wheel. "Cas" he breathed out.

Hastily he thrust the car to a stop on the side of the road and threw himself to the angel on his side, "Cas, finally!", he said and held on tightly, the angel returned the hug awkwardly, "I've been praying to you. Everyday! Where have you been?", he said when he finally let go, his relief had morphed to fury now. The angel looked sheepish, "I know. We've been working. It's taking longer than expected", Cas's eyes diverted to the back seat and he followed his gaze, "Jack!", Dean said and put a gentle hand on the boy's head, "I've been praying to you, too", the boy smiled, "I heard you, you made me laugh", his smile was as wide as ever, but there was something else there too, something heavy, concern? Dean wondered. "Ok, what's up?", he asked, "what do you mean?", Jack’s confusion was blatant on his face, he was a god now but in many ways, he was still just a kid, their kid. He looked at Cas, "you are not here on a social call, just tell me what’s going on", Dean's voice was serious now, back to business, his eyes half-rolled, but there was the faintest shadow of a smirk on his face, he was glad to be needed and even more glad to see them. Finally.

Cas lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, "what the hell, Cas?", Dean said, but then he noticed where they were, the bunker, "Sammy?", his voice was low, longing, then louder as he stood up from his chair, looking around, "Sam!", "He is not here, Dean. We are in heaven still", Dean swirled to face Cas, "Where is him? Where is Sam?", "He is on a vampire case in Atlanta, he is fine. This is not about Sam. I- I thought a familiar place would be better", "Better for what?", Cas looked at Jack, then again at Dean, "As you know, heaven is short on angels at the moment. We've been trying to bring them back from the empty", now Dean was pissed, "Come again? You want to resurrect those assholes who wanted me and my brother dead? And you and Jack, they wanted you dead too, Cas!", "Not all of them, Dean", "Yeah? Like who?", Cas looked at Jack and then down to his hands before sitting down and answering, "Balthazar, Hannah, Samandriel, Gabriel, Michael,...", Cas said and Dean started to understand, they were the closest Castiel had to angel friends, he must be feeling guilty for their deaths, suddenly, Cas lifted his head and gazed at Dean, the fuck? Dean thought. Cas was staring at him meaningfully, but the message wasn't getting through, after a few seconds of silence, Cas said, "Anna".

Dean tried to hold Cas’s stare questioningly, but the angel stood up and walked toward a bookcase. After an uncomfortable while, Jack said, "Can you help us?", looking at each of them in turn. Damn, he'd forgotten the kid was there. “What? uh, I, uh, what can I do about this?”, he looked at Cas for the answer, but he was still leaning with his hand on a bookcase. “We can’t get in”, Jack said. He explained that he was no longer able to get beings out of The Empty, nor enter it himself. He didn’t even know if he was able to wake them. The Empty must have done something to block him since he got Castiel out. “I want to ask Chuck about The Empty”, he finished, “You what?”, Dean was exasperated, this was not what he intended when he asked them to come by, “I told you it’s a bad idea”, Cas said finally. “But he doesn’t have powers anymore, he can’t do anything to us”, Jack said, it was clear he’d already had this argument with Cas, “And what makes you think that he will help us? He can trick you. He will trick you”, “That’s why we need you, he won’t be able to trick you, and I can make him talk, he’s human now, humans talk”, “You will not do that!”, Castiel and Dean said at the same time, “That’s not who you are, Jack”, Cas added, “You won’t ever do that!”, Dean said and stalked out of the room.

Without thinking, he went to baby, he was so used to the quiet of the road he craved it whenever something rubbed him the wrong way, but he’d waited so long for them to come by, he wasn’t leaving. He walked back inside, directly to his old room, everything was the same. He wondered what had Sammy done with his things. Had he given his room to another hunter? Somehow he doubted that. Maybe he took it for himself, it would be a mess by now. The thought brought a smile to his face. He laid on his memory mattress and closed his eyes. The thought of Jack torturing someone was disturbing but silly. Jack wouldn’t do that, he probably wasn’t even talking about that, it was just Dean’s own experience that had made him angry, the shame of the kid finding out about it. He should go talk to them, he decided, but in a while, he’d missed this bed.

Thoughts came by unbidden now. The awkward way Cas hugged him back, the pointed look, the way he said “Anna” and immediately walked away, what was that about? Was it- was it jealousy? He hadn’t allowed himself to think about Cas’s words before The Empty took him, but they were there, in the back of his head, “I love you, Dean”, he’d said, what did that mean, exactly? Cas had said those words before, to them when close to death, but that time it had felt different. He tried to remember, the exact words, “happiness isn’t in having but in being, in saying it, I love you, Dean”, and The Empty had been summoned because Cas was finally happy because he loved Dean and told him. Nope! No! That wasn’t it. He meant something else and was too ‘Cas’ to explain it properly and Dean too dumb to get it. It must have been something else. Not that. Not that. “Dean”, a soft voice called from the door, and Dean jumped so hard he nearly fell off the bed.

“Dean, I’m sorry. Were you sleeping?”, how long’s he been standing there? can he read my mind? does he know? “Eh, uh, I, no, I, no, I was thinking… about Jack and Chuck and all that”, “Ohh. Are you ok? About hell - Jack, didn’t mean to- he doesn’t know the details”, “I know, Cas, it’s fine, I’m fine, I’ll come out in a moment. We’ll figure it out”. Cas seemed to analyze him for a bit and decide he was fine, “There’s something else”, he said and looked at the floor, “Can I come in?”. “Uhm, yeah, yeah, come in, Cas”. He shut the door and sit on the bed next to Dean, “What’s- What’s up?”, “Dean, I’ve been struggling with this for a while. The reason why I’ve been avoiding you is that I am ashamed”, Dean swallowed hard, here we go, damn it, “I’ve failed you, Dean, I’ve failed Jack. I’ve been trying to help him figure out how to restore heaven but I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t want to become what I was the last time I failed you”, what? “What?”. “You know the things I did, Dean, when I took God’s place, I told Jack everything, but he says it’s not the same. He says that’s not what I’m doing and who I am anymore, but I- I don’t know. What if he’s wrong?”

At that moment his heart broke for Cas. He sat up and put his hand on Cas’s back. He’d known that he regretted the things he had done, but he never knew how deep his actions had affected him and shattered his confidence in his own decisions. Cas feared a bit of power would corrupt him again. “Cas, no. You always wanted what’s best for heaven. Even if you made some mistakes along the way, Jack’s right, you are not that person, uh, angel, anymore, the fact that you’re worried about it, proves it”, “I don’t know if I’m making the right choices, teaching him the right things”, “You are, Cas, you are good and you want to do what’s right, and Jack’s the same way, that’s why he chose you in the first place”. Cas lifted his head and looked at him, he’d never seen the angel so human, he had the impulse to hug him but settled for some pats on the back. “Thank you, Dean”, he said and left.

[alovesthis]

Move On | Winchester Brothers/Dean Winchester

This is my first ever oneshot for Supernatural/Dean Winchester!! Respectful Feedback welcome!

Prompt/Summary; You are trying to resolve an ongoing and constantly growing fight between Sam and your boyfriend Dean.

Warnings: none, just angst and slight fluff between reader and Dean.

Word Count:2471

Inside the impala was awfully silent. The only thing that filled the awkward space was the harsh patter of the rain falling down. After Sam and Dean had a fight about the difference in opinion on their last case, you sat in the back staring at the back of their heads. The three of you knew each other for longest, growing up along side of them and being looked at like family.

Being the same age as Sam, you were often looked at like you needed constant protection and help with going on hunts, by Dean. You despised him for that, but deep down inside you also felt thankful for having someone care about you. And almost like every hunter's story, you didn't have a family anymore, and that was the price to pay as a hunter.

Those boys were the only family you had.

And you hated when they fought.

The impala came to a halt, Dean shuts off the engine as you guys arrive back to the bunker. The doors slam as they get out, leaving you as the last one in the car. As you watch Sam disappear into the bunker, you see that Dean has waited for you, sitting on hood of the car. You shake your head as you get out of the car, disappointed at the guys for arguing over something so stupid. But like always, Dean had found a way to take it to a whole other level.

As you walk past him, you scoff.

"What's the matter with you?" He pushes his body off the impala and makes his way to you as you head for the bunker door.

His eyes try to find yours as he grabs onto your arm gently.

“You pissed at me too now?"

"I'm upset at the both of you for fighting."

"Well that's just stupid."

"No it's not, Dean." You stop in your tracks and turn to him. "Listen, we're all family here and it hurts to see the two of you arguing. I get it. We can't always agree on things, or make each other understand but you gotta move on. Forgive while he's here and move on, before it's too late."

Dean stays quiet and drops his head. He understands why you always say forgive people and move on. Because you were never able to get over a petty argument before your family had died, and it hurts.

"I just need to protect him. I need to protect you." Dean whispers. "That's why I need things to go my way, or else I lose everyone."

"We're hunters." I say, standing close to him as you speak sadly. "We can't prevent death for coming for us. It's going to happen, whether it's getting hit by a car, old age or in the hunt... it'll happen. As much as we want to, as much I want to protect you guys...we gotta let things happen."

"I can't not fight for your lives." He objects.

"Hey, I'm not saying not to put up a fight. Look at who we are. We don't go down without a fight." You say, grabbing onto his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I love you, I know you love me, and I know you love your brother. But we have to move on and not waste a second."

Inside the bunker, it wasn't very fun or relaxing like it could normally be. Everyone hid put distance between each other, no one would say a word. You tried to get Sam to talk to Dean and vice versa, but it just wouldn't work. They don't like to admit it, but they can both be so damn stubborn and it rubs off on you.

Tonight, the boys had been sitting at opposite ends of the table in the reading room — library, where we all did our research. Dean had his feet up leaning back and sipping on a beer like usual. Sam, on the other side, was eating a salad, considering that he hadn't eaten for a while.

You stare at the two from the metal steps and roll your eyes. Inside, you were screaming at them to get it together. Sooner or later, you'll snap.

Once you get to the table, you look at Dean and then at Sam. No one is making an effort and no one is even looking up at you. The bag is hurting your shoulder, and so you use it as an excuse to purposely throw it down on the table, hard. Letting them both know you're pissed at them.

This causes them to look up at you, their eyes both widened at your actions.

"Good night." You say to them, walking away to you and Dean's room. The slamming of the door could be heard by the brothers, to which Dean gets up and sighs heavily, walking to the kitchen instead (and to stuff his mouth with food).

You're in the room, pacing back and forth after you took a shower and changed into some shirt and sweatpants. Fighting was something you absolutely hated. If it wasn't on the job, if it wasn't defeating the monsters out there, and it was the boys fighting or you fighting with Dean, you despise it.

A light switch seems to pop right on in your mind as you look at the two photos on top of your dresser.

One of them was nostalgic, from a long time ago. It was you and your family, back at your old home back in the city of New York where you grew up for a bit. It was all before your dad's side of the family had a dark secret; hunting. And it wasn't until your uncle died that your dad and family had become hunters.

The picture was you, your siblings and parents all sitting on a couch with a Christmas tree behind you, smiling for the timed camera. It wasn't corny, there was no Christmas pajamas. Just the family in a happy memory.

The other one, was you and the Winchesters just a year or two shy back when things weren't so intense in the world of the Winchesters. In the impala, you sat behind the two big brothers with Cas, your face resting on their seat as Dean rolled his eyes, Sam smiling big.

Of course there were fights, but it had gone on for too long lately and dragged into bigger messes. As you stated at Cas's face, you smiled as you began to think about him.

Shit. Maybe he could help. He always helps, he loves them and he loves you. It's worth the shot.

"Castiel," you lean on the tall dresser in front of you, rubbing your head with your hands.

You were never the one to pray. Ever. Not before you became a hunter, not even during.

"I know you're dealing with other things right now. But I need you here, not for a hunt, for us. You know, sometimes I think I can handle these two...boys. But clearly, things get worse. With every other fight, it just gives them a reason to dig at each other, at me.

So please, Cas. If you can do what you do and help them, talk to them and get them to understand that we need each other now. We can't take each other and our days being alive for granted. Just...please."

Once you're finished speaking, Dean walks into the room then shuts the door. There was silence for a few moments as you leaned on the dresser and closed your eyes. You could just fall asleep standing there if you could. 

"I'm sorry I acted like an ass. Especially towards you, even after all the things you do for Sammy and I."

You feel him sigh into your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

"I appreciate the sentiment, I do. But I'm not the one you should be apologize too."

Dean doesn't back away, instead he turns you around and tries to find your eyes. He lifts your head up with his hands and makes you look up at him.

The both of you stare at each other for awhile, before you nod your head and take his hands on your face and place your hands over them. You gently hold them, as you bite your lip. You don't want to cry, but you can feel it in your throat.

"You and Sam.. you're family."

"We're family." Dean insists.

"I know, but listen to me. You know I have no one left. I have you two and Cas, and I love that and I'm so grateful for it all. What we have. But I don't have my brothers. I don't have my parents. I'm the last one of my blood, here alive. You know it all, Dean.

You know that I could never forgive myself or them for the stupid fight I had with them before they died. You know everything and yet you choose to fight. The both of you do."

"I'm not-"

"You're both here, alive. Don't let my mistake be your mistake. I'm begging you. Because it'll hurt forever."

"I'm sorry." He says, pulling you in for a hug.

"I know," tears spill onto his shoulder as you grab onto him. "Don't let things fall apart. Go, please?"

"You know I mean it," he says as you nod your head in agreement. "I could be a real dick, I see it. Sam knows it. It hurts to lose people, and I can't keep losing him, or seeing you get close to being lost from me. I can't imagine that pain of not having him or you here."

"We don't have to fight about it." You say. "We just need to talk to each other. We can agree to disagree on things. But we can't let it go too far."

He looks away.

"I know you're never the one to be so open, Dean. But here, what you're doing with me? You should start doing that with Sam. Communicate, because our lives? They're too damn short for us to be pissed at each other all the time. Not in this life. It's okay to be weak just for a second. That doesn't make you weak forever, Dean. It's just apart of life."

You take your hands away from his head, and let them fall down to his neck, rubbing gently.

"I love you, alright?"

Dean nods and wipes his thumb beside your eye to wipe away the tear.

"Yeah, it's alright." He smirks. "I love you too, baby."

You kiss his lips once more, and your hands loosen his neck, pulling away from him to lean up against the dresser again.

"Now, will you will please go work things out with Sam? Don't wait for tomorrow."

"Maybe." Dean mutters, as he goes to kiss your forehead. He walks away with a stupid little smirk and his stubborn walk, "Thank you. For everything."

He leaves the room and you hear a whoosh right outside the door, but ignore it as long one walks in.

Not wanting to intrude on Dean or Sam, in hopes that they're talking, you stay in the room, reading up on the book you want to finish. After what feels like forever, you keep yawning.

But you didn't want to sleep. You couldn't.

So, you grab one of Dean's flannels, you head to the kitchen, where you find the brothers sitting across from each other drinking coffee and exchanging smiles. They look to you once you grab a mug and make your way to the table. You stand in front of it and glance at them.

You were so thankful someone had made a fresh pot of coffee.

"So?" You ask, raising your eyebrows.

Sam turns his laptop around and shows you a news article.

"New case."

Dean shakes his head and gulps down his coffee. "Down in Texas."

"Before we get out to Texas, we need some rest. Coffee won't work like magic." You say.

You hear a whoosh coming from beside you, Castiel stands there, a smile on his face as he pushes into your shoulder with his. The two of you share a look of hope, silently thanking him for helping Sam and Dean figure it out.

Everything was better, normal. They moved on, and it's best to do so. You smile at them and Dean pats his lap, signaling for you to join him in researching for the case.

He grabs your waist as you sit down on his lap, and you can hear him sigh in relief. Your head turns, facing down at him. His eyes find yours, and you smile as he leans his forehead on your shoulder.

Your arm wraps around him as you embrace him.

Dean isn't crying, nor is he feeling sadness. But he's feeling relieved, better now than he was before. He was thinking about how right you were, about how they needed to forgive stupid shit and move on, because tomorrow isn't promised.

Especially not in a world like this.

As much as he wanted to keep Sam here, you here and Cas by his side, he had to cherish all of you here and now in the moment.

After placing a kiss on his head, your hand ruffles his hair to get him back to paying attention to your potential case. From across the table, Sam and Castiel sit together as they go through the laptop in front of them. Sam's head raises, giving you a nod as he mouths "I'm sorry", apologizing for making it stressful for you, and even to his brother.

"This right here," you mutter after taking a sip from Dean's beer. "We can't take it for granted. Right now is all that matters." 

Everyone stays silent, but smiles in agreement as they soak up the moment. It was almost like this after all the fights everyone had. Whether it was you and Dean, or you and Sam, or you with Sam against Dean.. all the teaming up against each other. But this time it felt different. This time, it wasn't about the fights and the petty silent treatment all of you loved to do. It was about this family.

Everyone sitting in the bunker. It was about coming home after a hunt, a fight, and building each other back up.

It was about love.

It's about family.

[holylulusworld]

Past

Summary: Dean finds his perfect mate, only for her to run away from him. When Sam calls her after their last encounter she needs to decide to let her mate die or come to his rescue.

Request: May I request an ABO fic where Dean finds his perfect Omega but she rejects his advances at every turn until he triggers her heat with his rut making him her true mate and even when she's claimed she rejects him for a bit making him go feral until Sam snaps her out of her fear? (you can make up why she's scared). love you, hun!

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Sarah Blake, vamps

Warnings: angst, unrequited feelings, true mates, ABO, ABO dynamics, mentions of abusive past/sexual assault/non-con claiming, physical and mental abuse (nothing graphic)

A/N: Omega!Sarah Blake is the Sarah Blake from the show, but in a different role

Runaway Mate Masterlist

Funny how your past is catching up with you, tries to break you with little reminders.

While you watch Dean sit in his car to wait for his brother you let your eyes wander over it. He had a classic car too, but it didn’t look like Dean’s. 

It was dirty, rusty and you hated to sit in it but seeing the Impala made you think of him and you felt pain shoot through the scar at your neck.

You know it’s impossible, you know there is no way he can be here, can go after you but still, your heart is racing. 

With shaking fingers, you dial Sarah’s number to hear a familiar voice but for the first time, she doesn’t answer.

Dialing her number again you get up from the steps in front of your room and Dean is alerted. Your heart beats fast enough to jump out of your chest as you dial her number for the third time.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Shaking you look at Dean as he gets out of the car to run toward you. “Y/N, talk to me, Sweetheart.”

“I…we have an emergency signal or rather we always answer our phone, no matter what we do at the third signal, Dean. I dialed her number three times, but Sarah does not answer.” 

Your voice trembles and for the first time, Dean can see the vulnerable and scared Omega shine through. 

“Okay, tell me where she wanted to go to. We will check there first and Sam can try to trace her phone.” Dean runs toward his car, dialing his brothers’ number as you try to reach your friend once again.

Black…everything is black before the pain wakes Sam from the darkness. He can smell blood, dirt, and fear as he tries to blink his eyes open.

“You’re awake…” Coughing a young woman looks at him, fighting the shackles holding her to the ground. 

“You’re a hunter too, I assume, just like the girl over there. She told me to remain calm, but they knocked her out as she refused to tell them anything about someone called Y/N.”

Sam’s eyes wander toward Sarah. He can see blood running down her forehead, but she’s breathing. 

While the skilled hunter scans the room he recognizes two things, his shackles will not hold him for long and the girl looking at Sarah’s bleeding wound is a vampire.

“She told you…” Sam’s eyes are trained on your friend to make sure she’s still breathing.

While the vampire studies Sam’s stoic face the hunter tries fumble with the shackles, already picking the lock holding the chains.

“The hunter, she’s right. You should remain calm and we will find a way out of here.”

“I am so scared.” The vamp’s eyes dart between Sam and Sarah. She knows the moment your friend wakes up she will warn the way stronger hunter and Winchesters are know for not dying that easily. “What can we do?”

“Do you know what they want and who they are?” While the vamp looks at Sarah once again Sam let the chains around his hand slip off his wrists to silently place them behind his back. His feet are still bound but if must, he can take the vamp down.

“I don’t know anything, Sir. They came in here, hit the girl and asked her about the other woman. She refused to answer and then they left.”

Sniffling the vampire looks at Sam. She plays her role well, Sam gives her that, but he is not an easy victim to her sob story. 

“Was that before or after they brought me here?” Searching the girl's face Sam fumbles the syringe with the blood of the dead out of his back pocket. “What’s your name?”

Maggie and it was before they brought you here. She was out cold when two large guys dragged you in and dropped you.” Nodding Sam waits for the perfect moment.

“How long are you here?” While the vamp looks at Sarah steering in her sleep Sam strikes. The syringe bores into the girl’s neck and she screams in pain.

“Hey…are you wake?” Watching your friend Sam frantically searches for the key to his chains. “I am a hunter too. My name is Sam, Sam Winchester and I know Y/N. We met during a hunt.” 

“Sammy doesn’t answer his phone…” Slamming his hands onto the steering wheel Dean curses. “This is not a coincident, Y/N. Sam and your friend disappearing at the same time in the same town.”

“I am sorry, Dean. I guess she found me before I had the chance to take her down.” Blinking a few times, you look out of the window. “Or rather them…”

“Them…” Glancing at you Dean stops the car. “What are you not telling me, Y/N? I know you are after mama for a reason but so far, I didn’t ask. If Sam is in danger, I need to know everything.”

“You know I can’t tell about my past, it’s better this way. No one ever wanted to hear my side of the story. For everyone, I was an aggressive Omega not wanting to submit.” Voice bitter you dial Sarah’s number once again. “Every Alpha chose their side…”

“Well, I am not every Alpha not even close.” Giving you a soft smile Dean looks at you. 

“Listen, I know you don’t want to talk about what happened to you. I would never force you to tell me. I have a huge package I carry with me too, Sweetheart, but we are running out of time here.”

“Mama…she’s…” Looking at Dean you search his soft eyes. “I would need to explain everything, but this would take us hours and as you said, we are running out of time, Dean.”

“Just the highlights then. You can leave everything out we do not need to save Sam and your friend, Y/N.” You hesitate, nibble at your lower lip as Dean starts the engine. “Fine, Y/N. I’ll tell you something about me first.”

Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he starts talking. “I sold my soul to save my brother. I was in hell for 40 years and one day, I broke and started to torture souls too. When I came back I had nightmares, I still have sometimes…”

Surprised by Dean’s honesty you look at him, really look at him and you can see the broken boy behind the tough hunter façade. 

“I lost everyone, Y/N. Mom, Dad, Bobby - anyone I ever liked died or left me except for Sammy, and he just doesn’t know better…” Huffing you try to swallow the lump in your throat as you look at anything but Dean. 

“At the beginning, I thought it’s my fate as an Omega. I believed that I just need to get used to that someone rules my life, tells me what to do or leave but slowly, I doubted being an Omega means what my life became.”

Dean’s heart clenches in his chest hearing the hurting in your voice. He wants to say something, wants to soothe the pain but he knows you are not ready to let him help you.

“All I can tell you is that one night, he tried to kill me, and I fought him. It ended badly…for him.” Your face is stoic, but your voice betrays you. 

“I get it, Y/N. He was a monster but what I don’t understand is that you hate all Alpha’s only as one treated you badly. This is no excuse for his behavior or what he did to you, tho…” 

Dean dials Sam’s number again, still ending on his brother’s mailbox he tosses the phone into the glove department.

“One Alpha…” Laughing bitterly you glance at Dean. “It started with my brother and father selling me to this monster. Or rather making a deal to rise in the ranks.”

“Y/N…” Gasping Dean tries to remain calm but the anger welling up is untamable. “I am so sorry.”

“I trusted them with my life. Till that day, they protected me, made sure no one ever hurts me. My father, he never treated my mother like she’s not equal as she’s an Omega and then one day…”

Snapping your fingers you look at Dean. “Poof, the gentle and caring family was gone.”

“I…” Voice cracking Dean blinks the tears away. 

“At first, he was nice. Asking me about hobbies and shit but then he…” Sniffling you look away. Rather concentrate on the trees passing by than Dean’s sad face. “He forced his mark on my neck and everything else too…”

“Omega…” A low whine leaves Dean’s lips as he gives you side-glances. He can see the tremble of your hands and the pain tightening your chest.

“When he was done, he left for days or weeks and I prayed he won’t come back. Every. Single. Time.” Dean’s eyes drift toward you occasionally while you keep on talking. “One night, he…he crossed another line, or rather wanted to and I lashed out.”

“I won’t ask what he tried to do…”

“I was able to avoid getting pregnant and he assumed, I am infertile, Dean. That night he brought a young girl into our home or rather my prison. I saw the fear in her eyes and just knew, he would force her too…” 

Sniffling you wipe the tears away. “I tried to call the cops, told them what my Alpha is about to do but…” Laughing bitterly you shrug. 

“None of the Alpha’s believed you,” Dean asks and you shake your head.

“Oh, they believed me, Dean. But they laughed about me and congratulated my Alpha on his decision to get a younger mate.”

“Bastards…” Slamming his hands onto the steering wheel Dean curses. “They should’ve stormed the house. I would’ve done so…”

“I hung up and felt his hands on me. I…I reacted instinctively and pushed him away for the first time, I found the strength to fight back, because of the girl I had to protect. He tried to strangle me, but I was faster.”

There’s a hint of pride in your voice and Dean smirks as you tell him you ran into the kitchen and stabbed him with the cheese knife.

“He ended like a tiny mouse. Begged for his life, Dean and I knew he wasn’t the powerful Alpha I thought he was.” 

“What has mama to do with all of this?” Your eyes meet Dean’s and you know you must tell him everything to save your friend.

“She’s his mother. Her grief about the loss of her perfect Alpha son and the hatred she always harbored toward me forced her to look for a way to kill me.” 

Your features darken as you look at the world outside passing by. “I wasn’t the young and vulnerable eighteen years old girl they threw into the lion’s den. I am a strong and trained hunter, Dean. I killed two of her pack members when they tried to get hold of me.”

“And she did what?” 

“I was not easy to take down, so she thought making her pack stronger would stop me, would bring me down but…” Smirking you give Dean a wink. 

“I was a hunter and knew how to take vamps down. Mama tries to create a new and larger family, but I won’t give her the chance to do so. I will hunt her and every single member of her sick family down.”

“Why did she turn the girl if she supported her son’s abuse?”

“Mama, or rather Delilah believed I lied. I tried to tell her more than once that her son is a monster but she didn’t listen. Mama is after me believing I killed her gentle and caring son.” 

“I will open the door and we will have to fight our way through. I think someone called mama is after us as she wants to get hold of your friend.”

“Mama…shit.” Sarah tries to follow Sam but she still feels dizzy and needs to press her body against the wall. When Sam wants to help she flinches away. “I can follow you, Sam.”

“I didn’t want to cross a line. I just wanted to help you. You’re injured, stay behind me no matter what. A friend of Y/N is a friend of the Winchesters…” Sam silently opens the door only to step into a sewer.

“You are a friend of Y/N?” Not believing Sam your friend eyes him suspiciously. 

“I said she’s a friend, not Y/N sees me as one. I know she has problems trusting Alpha’s, but right now we need to help each other and find my brother and your friend. Dean is with Y/N and I hope he’s on his way as I assume we are running into a whole nest of vamps without any weapon…”

Runaway Mate Tags

@webcraft4eveh, @supernatural3002

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @sandlee44, @strayrosesbloom, @notyourtypicalrose, @thewinchesterco, @marvelfansworld @hobby27, @gh0stgurl, @flamencodiva, @jay-and-dean, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis, @chonisberonica, @wittysunflower, @supernaturalenchanted, @shikshinkwon, @yolobloggers, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space, @ilovefanfic86, @linki-locks11, @eggingamazinglove, @trumpettay, @fandom-imagines1, @thenamelesschibi, @waywardbaby, @straycuties9, @drakelover78, @stuckys-whore, @zxph-yr, @i-love-superhero, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @deepmuffinspymaker, @katsav17, @heyitscam99, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @neii3n, @exo-nova, @cocklesbelli, @echoesofpassion, @lauravic, @shatteredabby, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sea040561, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @shadowkat-83, @alltimesamantha, @officialmarvelwhore, @meganywinchester, @miraclesoflove, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @kayla-2000, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @alexoloughlinlover32, @geekofmanyforms, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @atomicfandombomb, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming​, @cassiopeia-barrow, @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters​, @mscarter213​, @jo-like-josette​, @mep6811​, @prettydeaneyes​, @rvgrsbrns​, @deanwanddamons​, @tearsforhan​, @skittlebittz​, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel​ @belovedcherry​

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@spnfamily-j2​, @supernatural-bellawinchester​, @negans-lucille-tblr​, @deans-baby-momma​, @thefaithfulwriter​, @squirrelnotsam​, @roonyxx​, @neerness​, @deansgirl-1968​, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​, @butifulsoul125​, @lyinginthegingerlocks​, @20gayneen​, @janicho88​, @woodworthti666​, @thevelvetseries​, @dreaminemz​, @akshi8278​, @midnightsilver16830​, @mrspeacem1nusone​, @ria132love​, @caligraphee​, @the-witch-in-silence​, @justanotherwinchester​, @multisuperfandom​, @jason-todd-squad​, @jadesupernatural​, @psychicforest​, @luciathewinchestergirl​, @magssteenkamp​, @palefiregiver​, @tranquility-or-chaos​, @jxackles​, @michellemxndes​, @addictedtofictionalcharacters​, @gabifernandessn​, @waywardrose13​

[leahxx129]

His Name (demon!Dean Winchester x Reader)

This is a submission for the immensely talented @fvckingavengers​ ‘ quarantine writing challenge. Also, I’d like to credit @angelkurenai​ since her soulmate AU imagines provided the main idea for this fic. 

My prompt for inspiration was:

You’re all I need when I’m holding you tight / If you walk away I will suffer tonightI found a man I can trust / And boy, I believe in us / I am terrified to love for the first time / Can’t you see that I’m bound in chains? / I finally found my way / I am bound to you - Bound to You by Christina Aguilera

Summary: Nobody knew why or how, but on their thirteenth birthday every person on planet Earth would start feeling this burning sensation on their left lower arm, which intensifies as the day carries on. By the time the sun goes down, the burning sensation would leave a scar, forming a name. It’s believed to be the name of the person one belongs with. The letters on your skin spell out Dean Winchester.

Warnings: angst, mild swearing

Word count: 3.275-ish

Sam Winchester is staring intensely on the map in the War room as if he watched it closely enough, it would show where his brother went from the last place he’d been spotted at. Sam is tired beyond words – he has spent every waking hour searching for Dean, even though he is not sure that the demon curing ritual would work on a Knight of Hell.

„You know we’re gonna find him, right?” Cas speaks up, making Sam jump a little.

„Cas... didn’t see you there... Uhm, sure, I know. It’s just harder than I thought.” his words don’t really comply with his facial expression.

„Well, I do not know if this is helpful, but Crowley sent me a photo a few minutes ago with a text saying ’Show this to Moose’. It depicts a woman I have never seen before.” he hands Sam the phone.

„Oh my God!” Sam’s eyes light up with excitement. „Why haven’t I thought of that?!”

„Thought of what? I think I’m in the dark here, Sam.”

But Sam is too busy looking for something in his pockets to answer. A couple of seconds later a familiar rattle indicates he found his car keys and he claps Cas on the shoulder.

„We have a long drive ahead of us, buddy.”

It‘s 2. a.m. on a Thursday night, you are wiping the bar counter with a cloth. Nothing out of the ordinary happened all evening. You started your shift around 6 p.m. at the local bar, only the regulars came in. The air was heavy with the scent of liquor and cigarette smoke. Even the old jukebox in the corner and the clatter of billiard balls sounded pretty much the same as every night.

Just as you’ve finished wiping and start washing the glasses, the main door opens then closes slowly with a squeak.

„I’m sorry but were closed! Try tomorrow, pal.” you say without looking at the newly arrived guest. It’s not a rare phenomenon that someone wants to stick around for a couple more drinks after closing time, so you don’t suspect anything. Not until the person begins talking, anyway.

’Really? I thought you’d make an exception for an old friend...”

Hearing Sam Winchester’s voice makes your blood run cold, numbing you to an extent that the glass you are holding slips out of your grasp and shatters to a dozen pieces on the floor.

„Sam...” despite your best efforts you can’t muster anything other than his name.

„I mean, I was hoping you’d be excited to see me, Y/N, but breaking glasses is not necessary. Or safe.” he chuckles, sitting down on a bar stool.

„Shut up, smartass!” you intend to look serious, but a smile creeps on your face, nevertheless.

There’s a long moment of silence. Neither of you want to spoil the joy of reunion so you just look at one another, taking in how the other has changed over the years. You pour two scotches and finally Sam clears his throat.

„I see you’re still covering up his name.” he states, referring to your bracelets that hide most of your left lower arm.

Oh, right. His name. Frankly, you tend to forget about those words burnt in your skin quite easily.

Nobody knew why or how, but on their thirteenth birthday every person on planet Earth would start feeling this burning sensation on their left lower arm, which intensifies as the day carries on. By the time the sun goes down, the burning sensation would leave a scar, forming a name. It’s believed to be the name of the person one belongs with. The letters on your skin spell out Dean Winchester.

You can still picture the day you got it crystal clearly.

It was around 10 p.m. when it finished burning and you were able to read it. Your father’s face turned to an ashy color and he drove you to Bobby Singer’s house where the Winchesters were staying at the time. Hearing an engine die, Bobby and John came out to see who the unexpected visitors were.

“Stay in the car!” your father ordered through gritted teeth as he got out and you obeyed.

John smiled when he recognized him, but his smile soon turned to a painful grimace – courtesy of your father’s amazing left hook.

“What the hell, man?!” he shouted in disbelief, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand. Bobby was visibly indecisive whether to stop the fight or let it play out.

“I could ask you the very same question, Winchester!” your father bellowed in response.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“I’m talking about the name that formed on my little girl’s arm, John! You have some dark connections, you must’ve got something to do with it!”

“It’s Dean, isn’t it?” you could see the epiphany on his face even in the poor light that filtered through Bobby’s kitchen window. “Look, pal... you and I both know damn well that this cannot be controlled.”

A long silence ensued. Only the crickets could be heard.

“Ever since my girl’s name showed up on your boy’s arm, I prayed every single night for it to be a mistake. For her to get a different name when the time comes, and you know I don’t believe in God, John!” your father’s voice cracked. “I prayed for her to get the name of a lawyer, a doctor or a dentist… somebody that’ll provide for her. And she got a hunter. Out of seven billion people, she got a hunter… I don’t want her to end up like Mary, or her Mom.”

John took a step closer and squeezed your father’s shoulder.

“Dean will take good care of her, I promise.”

You banish the memory as quickly as you can. The only thing you’re thankful for is the fact that none of your dads lived long enough to see how much of a lie John’s promise would prove to be.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cover it up.” you answer Sam coldly and he shoots you an apologetic look.

“What about yours? Have you found your, uhm... what’s her face… Eileen Leahy?” your pronunciation earns a genuine smile from him.

“No, not yet. I’m starting to think she’s a myth.”

“Well then, she’s the luckiest myth in this whole damn world, I can tell you that much.”

You down your drink in one gulp and decide to ask what’s been bothering you ever since he set foot in the bar.

“Alright, Sam, honest talk. Why are you here? What’s up? I gave you this address for emergencies and the fact that we’re having a face-to-face conversation right here, right now is a bad sign in my book.”

He looks like he’s contemplating the way to present the situation to you, but you’re having none of it.

“No need for sugarcoating, hot stuff, just spill it.”

“Dean’s a demon.”

You’re not sure if you’ve heard it right or the scotch you’ve just drunk was spiked.

“Excuse me?”

“Dean’s a demon. He died with the Mark of Cain on his arm and he turned into a Knight of Hell. Gone rogue. I want to fix him, but you know Dean... it’s damn hard to find him when he doesn’t wanna be found.” he flashes you a smile but when you don’t replicate it, he continues “I’m here because he’s here, Y/N. Based on my intel, he’s been visiting this bar to see you. Will you help me cure him?”

With a blank stare you pour yourself another drink, now wishing for it to be spiked.

The next day after closing you don’t get into your car immediately; you decide to light a cigarette first. Sam’s words are still echoing in your ears. A demon? And he’s been visiting the bar to see you? Why the hell would he do that? You’re about to stub the remainder of your cigarette when you hear his voice from behind you.

“I always thought you looked incredibly sexy when you smoked, darlin’. Turned me on so much.”

You spin around on your heels just to bump straight into Dean’s chest. He grabs hold of your arms to steady you. His touch gives you goosebumps, but you compose yourself swiftly. You cannot allow him to see the effect he still has on you, even after everything that happened.

“I know, Dean, you made it clear quite a few times with your actions… what I don’t know, however, is the reason behind your little visit... so, a fucking explanation would be nice. But first, let go of me!”

“That’s such an ugly word from such a pretty mouth… and to be honest, I think you know damn well what I’m doing here. A birdy tells me Sammy paid you a visit and I doubt that he didn’t share a few things about me, Y/N. As for letting you go… sorry, no can do.” he smirks.

“What do you mean ‘no can do’, Winchester?!” you ask sharply, panic rising withing you.

“Well, more precisely, I don’t want to. I’ve missed you.” he leans in closer to your face “And frankly, I don’t want you to put those engraved demon cuffs on me that peek from your back pocket, sweetie.” he whispers against your lips.

“Okay. How ‘bout the ones Sam is about to put on you?” you whisper back, causing him to furrow his brows in confusion and lean away. This gives you enough space to headbutt him and he automatically stumbles a step backwards, allowing Sam to cuff him from behind.

With united forces you manage to hustle Dean into the trunk of your car.

“You know, demon or not, it’s nice to know some things never change. You’ve always let your dick do the thinking instead of your brain.” you tell him condescendingly before closing the trunk.

When Dean wakes up in the Men of Letters’ dungeon restrained, at first, he’s perplexed. Then as realization slowly hits him, his face becomes distorted with fury and he starts wriggling in an attempt to break free, but he doesn’t succeed. A frustrated, unhuman-like growl leaves his throat. You watch this with undeniable pleasure.

„Mornin’, sunshine!” you greet him jovially.

There’s a short silence as he watches you prepare some syringes on the nearby iron table.

„So, you’re the one who’s gonna do it, huh? Or at least try...” he says arrogantly.

„Yup!”

„Now that’s funny ’cause you see I thought you hated needl-„ but you don’t let him complete his sentence as you pierce your skin faster than he could finish it. Your blood fills up the syringe in no time.

You walk over to him and sit on his lap in a straddling position.

„I do hate needles, Dean.” You admit „Kudos for remembering. But I’m pretty sure that you’ll hate what comes next even more than I hate them and that makes it worth it.”

Before he could react, you stab him in the neck with the syringe, completely emptying its content into his artery. The unhuman growl breaks out once again, but this time it turns into manic laughter.

„Wow, that was exciting!” he exclaims as his eyes turn black „Almost as exciting as Jo holding me at gunpoint when we first met. But just almost... You know, there were times I wished it was her name on my arm instead of yours.”

 „Interesting. Because there were times I wished it was your brother’s name on mine, but I guess we can’t always get what we want, now can we?” you shrug and walk back to the table, not minding Dean’s pitch-black stare. He thought he could hurt you since Jo was your best friend, but you manage to hit closer to home.

You sit down on a chair, place your legs on the table and put your headphones on.

„What are doing?” Dean asks, clearly upset.

„You didn’t seriously think I was gonna listen to your annoying blabber until the next shot, did you?” he opens his mouth to reply but you turn on the music on your phone and start lip-syncing to ’Dream on’ by Aerosmith.

In the following four hours you administer the next four shots, each at every clock turn. Dean says something insulting each time and you try to ignore him each time - with more or less success.

“Alright, hot stuff, time for the sixth shot!” examining your arm you realize it starts resembling to a needle pillow, but you draw another fix for him all the same.

This time he appears calmer. He’s not trying to pull his head away or even bite you like at some previous occasions. No shouting or growls either. You can see he started sweating, the small drops glisten on his skin like illuminated diamonds. Could the ritual actually be working?

You’re halfway back to the table when he calls you by the nickname he gave you, forcing you to turn back.

“I just want you to know I admire you. I really do, Y/N. Seeing you put this much effort into this makes me wish I put more in our relationship.” he shoots you a sad, crooked smile.

“Careful, Dean. If you don’t stop attempting to manipulate my emotions, I’m gonna punch you in the face. Again. But this time harder.” you warn him.

“I’m not toying with you. I honestly wish.”

“Well it’s kind of too late for that, isn’t it?” you take a step closer to him and pull up the bracelets on your arm. “See these words? They are the sole reason I’m here and doing this. Okay?”

“Who are you trying to fool, sweet thing? Me or yourself?”

“Shut up, asshole.”

Your hands tremble when you get back to the table and put the headphones on. You feared this moment would come and here it is. He’s trying to get under your skin. And it’s working.

Later on when you approach him with the seventh shot, he tilts his head to the side, offering his neck.

“Go on.” he encourages you and you take the opportunity. The ferocious, invincible being Sam chained down is nowhere to be seen – a broken man with beautiful green eyes looks longingly at you instead.

“There’s one more to go and you’ll be your annoying self again, hot stuff.” you tell him softly, relenting a little.

“And you?”

“I’ll be on my way to the farthest place from here.” you decide to tell him the truth, which seems to render him speechless for a minute.

“Why do you hate me so much, Y/N?” I mean, I know I’ve never been the high definition of an awesome boyfriend, trust me, but the amount of resentment I sense baffles me.” he asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.

The ball of uneasiness in your stomach grows two sizes in the span of a minute.

“You’ve lost your right to ask such personal questions four years ago, Winchester. You’ve lost it when you left that letter on the kitchen counter, and you walked out on us!” you say in a strained voice.

Suddenly, all the memories you‘ve worked so hard to suppress flood back in.

When Sam jumped in the pit, Dean was lost. His self-destructive behavior foreshadowed a gruesome end and you just couldn’t let him spiral down like that. You made arrangements and got out of the life. Rented a house in the countryside and started living like a normal couple. Beforehand, your relationship was stormy to say the least, but settling down steadied it a lot. Everything was picture perfect for about a year - then you found that damn letter when you arrived home from work. Dean explained in it that Sam was alive, and he needed some time to figure stuff out. You didn’t even get the chance to tell him what you learned that day… and this was the last straw. You never contacted Dean Winchester again, nor did you speak to him directly. Your liaison was Sam up until that night in the bar’s parking lot.

Dean’s voice brings you back to reality.

“My brother came back from the dead… I was confused, Y/N. Just like I wrote, I needed time! After a while I was trying to reach out to you, but you refused to even-“he stops mid-sentence “Wait a minute… walked out on you… as in… plural?”

You nod mechanically and his eyes widen.

“Wha-what happened?” he chokes out eventually.

“I was pregnant. Then miscarried. Don’t worry about it.”

Is that really a teardrop running down his cheek, or are you imagining things?

“Don’t worry about it?” he raises his voice in disbelief. “That’s all you’re gonna say about it?!”

“I don’t want to say anything else, Dean. Because if I pull on that thread again, my mind will go to a dark, lonely place and I think I deserve better than that.”

“Goddamnit…” he exhales loudly, then continues “When all of this is over, I want you to stay.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I want you to stay with me. Here. I want a clean slate, a-a new beginning.”

You can’t comprehend what’s happening. One minute you were curing your ex-boyfriend from demonism, and the other he wants to start things over despite your history together. 

Instead of replying, you fill up the last syringe and administer the eighth shot quickly, then deliver the required incantation. Just as you finish, Sam enters the dungeon and you run past him straight to your car. You open the door but before you could sit in somebody closes it from behind. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is, but you do it anyway. Dean takes your left arm and reveals his own name.

“I remember the night you got this thing. I was in the house when you and your dad arrived at Bobby’s and I witnessed the whole ordeal. I know that ‘til now I did a crappy job keeping the promise my dad made to yours but give me one last chance to do it right, okay?”

You look away, trying to blink back a few tears that want to escape your eyes deperately.

“I don’t know, Dean…”

He gently grasps your chin to make you face him.

“You know, when Sam gave me your message saying you don’t need me anymore, I thought – fine. If you don’t need me, I don’t need you, simple as that. But it was a lie. I only realized how big when I became a Knight of Hell… I enjoyed killing, Y/N. I enjoyed killing so much that it scared the crap out of me. But all this darkness and anger brought on by the mark alleviated one night when I accidentally stopped at that bar and saw you…”

“Damn, Winchester, are we having a chick-flick moment here?” you ask, trying to take the edge off the situation while wiping your eyes.

“Yeah…I guess we are. But don’t tell anyone ‘cause it would ruin my reputation.” he whispers the last part.

You scoff loudly.

“What reputation are you talking about, exactly? I think you lost every bit of it back in the parking lot when I kicked your demon ass.”

“Oh, well, I guess you’re right, sweet thing.” he admits with a breathy laughter.

“As for a second chance… fine.  But fail to keep that promise once more and I’ll be gone for good. Understood?”

At first a look of genuine surprise spreads on his face but it soon gets switched up by gratitude. He places a feather light kiss on your lips as confirmation.

Truth be told, you could never leave him just as he could never leave you – at least not permanently. No matter the pain and the misery, you belong with each other. Your souls are bound by an invisible lace that nothing can tear apart.

[atc74]

Heartbeat - Chapter Three

Warnings: COVID-19, Croatoan, Fluff, quarantine, Mentions of fever, coughing, emergency room, mentions of loss, TW: major character death (Each chapter will have additional warnings).

Summary: Sam, Dean, and Y/N are sheltering in place at the Bunker, researching this new virus that has created a world pandemic. But what happens when one of your own is immune compromised?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1366

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches​ because she’s the best

A/N: I’M BAAAAACCKKKK, well, mostly :) I know I’m not the only one struggling with life right now, and writing has been hard. Thank you all for sticking it out until I was able to get something together for you guys. This is only temporary and will pass. Keep your chin up and try on your jeans every few days.

Heartbeat Masterlist

Like Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

Previously...

“Honey, you’re warm. You feeling okay?” Dean voiced his concern as they settled into bed a few hours later. 

“Yes, babe. I’m just tired,” Y/N yawned, almost as if to prove her point. 

“We’re taking your temperature,” Dean said, getting out of bed to get the thermometer. 

“Dean, I think you’re overreacting a bit. I’m probably just still warm from our bath,” Y/N reasoned, but he wasn’t having any of it. 

“It’s just a precaution, honey. I’m sure it’s nothing, but this virus is not like others. It moves quickly and it’s lethal.” He took a seat next to her and shoved the thermometer in her mouth before she could protest again. When the beep sounded, he removed it and checked the digital readout. “It’s 99.5, low grade. But I’m still keeping an eye on it, and you.” 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Y/N yawned once more and rolled over, her eyes closing instantly. “Love you.” 

“I love you, too, Y/N,” Dean echoed, crawling in beside her and pulling the blanket up to cover them both. He pulled her small frame into him, wanting, needing to keep her closer than usual. 

Sleep did not come easily for Dean that night; he was worried about Y/N. Since she returned to his life, his nightmares and insomnia were few and far between, but as he lay next to her, his mind played out a thousand different scenarios where he couldn’t save her. He was hyper aware every time she moved, coughed, or even breathed heavily. He finally fell under, out of pure exhaustion, just before five in the morning, only to be plagued with nightmares of the same.

Now...

By midday, her temperature had risen to 100.3, and she was coughing regularly. After taking her next round of medication and an additional fever reducer, she was ready for a nap. Dean tucked her in, kissing her flushed cheek before pacing the library while his brother researched. With the fingers of his right hand, he continuously rubbed at his wedding band, acutely aware of each beat that pulsed through it. 

Y/N’s condition worsened and, by the third day, Dean took her to the emergency room. Sam called ahead and informed the staff they were on their way. Dean broke every traffic law between the Bunker and the County Hospital. “Honey, you gotta hang on for me, okay? I need you to fight. I need you to fight for us. Honey, I love you. I know you can do this.” 

“Sir, you can’t come inside,” a nurse stopped him after he gently laid Y/N on the waiting gurney. 

“She’s my wife! I’m not leaving her!” Dean argued, advancing on the nurse as she attempted to hold him back. 

“Sir, I’m sorry. I really am, but no one is allowed inside. I’m going to ask you a few questions, but I need you to put this mask on first, okay? We’re going to take excellent care of your wife. I promise,” the nurse vowed, taking Y/N’s medical history, including a list of all medications she was taking. Before heading back inside, the nurse gave Dean’s shoulder a reassuring pat then disappeared behind the sliding doors. 

“Cas, Billie, dammit, anyone with their ears on. My wife is inside this hospital. Please keep her safe and bring her home to me,” Dean raised his face heavenward and prayed. “Please. She’s my world and I can’t live without her.” 

Dean reluctantly moved the Impala to a parking spot and made himself comfortable. He may not be allowed inside, but there was no way he was leaving the hospital without his wife. 

“Sam, I’m fine...Yes, I grabbed a sandwich and some water from the gas station down the street, okay, mom?...I told you, I ain’t fucking leaving without Y/N!” Dean shouted into the phone. “Yeah, I hear ya...I’ll keep you posted. Yeah, okay. Bye, Sammy.” 

He knew his brother meant well, but they both knew exactly what this could mean for Y/N. She was already immune compromised because of her Multiple Sclerosis, and this virus could be fatal for her. He was getting frequent updates from the kind nurse and knew she had been placed on a ventilator when she was admitted, having difficulty breathing on her own. 

With as much time as Dean had spent in this car throughout his life, this is the moment he hated the most. No cases, nothing to do, but sit and worry that he was going to lose the love of his life. He twisted the ring on his left hand repeatedly, closely monitoring the beats as they passed through it. 

The shrill ringing of his phone jolted him from the restless sleep he had fallen into. He started panicking. He didn’t recognize the number but answered immediately. “Yeah?” 

“Mr. Ford? This is Jocelyn with Smith County Memorial Hospital.” 

Dean barely registered anything the nurse was telling him. All he could hear was his own blood rushing through his veins and all he felt was the slowing of Y/N’s heartbeat through his wedding ring. 

“Mr. Ford? Are you still there, sir?” Jocelyn asked, her voice tinny through the phone. “Mr. Ford?” 

“Yeah, I’m here. Just do everything you can to save her...please,” Dean begged the nurse on the other end of the line.

Dean felt like he was losing his mind. This wasn’t a fight he could prepare for, there was no battle for him to fight for her here. This was always a possibility, in the deep recesses of his mind, that she could get sick, but it was never a possibility until now. And now, he didn’t know how he could fight something he couldn’t see. How could he fight this for her? What if he couldn’t win? 

“Sammy, I don’t know how to do this, man. I can’t do this without her, I don’t want to. I need her,” Dean sniffed later that night on the phone with his brother. “I don’t know how to do this without her.” 

Sitting alone in the Impala, Dean was startled by a pair of headlights as they blinded him in the rearview mirror. The sound of a door closing put Dean on further alert. It wasn’t until he saw the face of his brother in the window that he breathed a sigh of relief. He opened his door, but felt like his feet were buried in concrete. 

It was his little brother that pulled him to his feet, wrapping his arms around him. It wasn’t until that moment that Dean let himself let go and let the fear consume him. 

Sam sat with Dean. There were no words that needed to be said, Dean was just relieved to have someone with him. It was Dean that broke the silence.

“Sammy, I-I c-can’t feel her…” he broke with a sob. Sam reached over and pulled his brother into his arms once more, feeling the sobs as they wracked his body. They both wept for Y/N. 

~*~

“I’ll take it from here, Sam,” Dean stepped in front of his brother. 

“Dean...” 

“I said I got it, Sam!” 

Sam knew when he could push his brother and now was not the time. He put his hands up and stepped away. Dean reached into Baby’s backseat and gently picked up the fragile bundle. He walked slowly with purpose through the halls of the Bunker until he reached the Infirmary. He descended the stairs one at time, careful not to jostle his precious cargo. Sam walked a few steps ahead and opened one of the doors of the cold storage. Dean stopped in his tracks as Sam slid out the steel tray. 

“Leave.” 

“Dean…” 

“Now, Sam!” 

Sam backed off and made his way up the stairs, looking down at where Dean placed Y/N’s wrapped body on the tray. He sighed heavily before walking out the door, leaving his brother alone with his wife’s body. 

Dean pulled over a chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s wrapped body. “Honey, I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I’ve never been much for praying, but I prayed for you, for us. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Y/N. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, ya know. You saved me more times than you’ll ever know. 

“Even when we were kids, you saved me from myself. From going head to head with my dad, with Bobby, hell even with you. The only person I know more stubborn than me is you. You always said it was part of your charm and you were right, Y/N. I know what you’re gonna say, so I’ll beat you to it. I know you’d want me to salt and burn your body. I know you’d want me to move on with my life, keep going, all that crap. But I don’t want to do it without you, honey. So, uh, just don’t push me, okay. I’ll get to it, but I’m gonna need some time. And, I promise, I’ll salt and burn your body myself. I’ll build your pyre, but not until your dad and Jody, and the others can be here. You deserve our family to be here, so they can say goodbye. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone, Honey. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most. I’m sorry I let you down.” 

Dean’s sobs echoed through the room and bounced off the cold stone walls, making their way to Sam in the library, where he sat, with a bottle and his own tears. 

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean​​​ @dolphincliffs​​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​ @meganwinchester1999​​ @cherrycokegirls1​​​ @closetspngirl​​​  @roxyspearing​​​ @flamencodiva​​​ @blacktithe7​​​ @sis-tafics​​​ @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten​​​ @amanda-teaches​​​ @hannahindie​​​ @wotinspntarnation​​​ @winchesterprincessbride​​​ @winecatsandpizza​​​ @kickingitwithkirk​​​  @wi-deangirl77​​​ @hobby27​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @gh0stgurl​​​ @alleiradayne​​​ @idreamofplaid​​​ @seenashwrite​​​ @manawhaat​​​ @crashdevlin​​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​​​ @emoryhemsworth​​​

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Heartbeat: @idksupernatural​​ @imaginationisgrowth​​ @gabrielslittleangel​​

[gray-is-neutral]

Supernatural

a fan fiction pt.7

I have a habit of following a pattern, but I want this to be from Castiel’s perspective and then Dean’s. :) hope y’all liked it

Cas’ pov

Dean was gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He looked like he could throw up, but he was still so beautiful. It was really quiet. He seemed very tense.

“So you’re friend is getting married?” I asked. “Yeah,” Dean said, his voice horse. “Are you going to attend the wedding?” I asked him. “I was invited,” he said. He handed me his invitation. “It says you have a plus one-“ I said. “Is Sam going with you?” I asked.

His chest rose and fell like he was trying to calm himself down, and I guessed that the heaters are what was making his cheeks and ears turn that adorable shade of red.

“No,” he said. “I was going to see if maybe you wanted to tag along? You might have fun?” Dean said. He licked his perfectly pink lips and stared out at the road. I studied every inch of him. Still beautiful as the day I met him. Even in Hell when he was torn and broken, he was beautiful. Every piece of him was perfect. I loved every bit of him.

It was a minute before I realized I was staring. We locked eyes. “Uhh something you wanna say Cas?” he said. My heart gave a little flip flop. “No, I just-“ I said. “Was concerned. I think you may have a fever,” I said. “What? No Cas-“ he said. I felt his four head and cheeks. “You are warm Dean. Are you sure you’re not sick?” I said.

He turned an even darker shade of red. “About the wedding, you don’t have to go-“ Dean said, defending his dignity, but why? Why would he do that? Why would he invite me to go to this wedding with him?

“It’s sounds like an enjoyable experience,” I said. “Good,” he smiled. “Hey can you see if Sam texted me?” Dean said. “Yes,” I said, taking his phone, I looked for Sam’s contact, but I only found a text from Jordan. “No but Jordan texted you,” I said. “What did she say?” he asked.

“Hey lover boy, don’t forget not to be a pussy. Take dat ass and claim it. My sisters called they need some help with a lovers point ghost. Sammy boy and I are going to help t.t.y.l,” I said, looking at him.

“I think she plans to sleep with Sam,” I said. “Maybe,” Dean said. “Would that not be odd?” I asked, feeling heat rise from my chest to my head. “Why do you say that?” he asked, reluctantly. “Because didn’t you two- you and Jordan, didn’t you two-“ He stopped suddenly. “Woah you thought I slept with her? Dude I have been trying to get her and Sam together!” he said. “Why would you think-“

I blushed a very deep red color. “I’m sorry!” I said. “No, no I’m sorry I disappeared the night we brought you back to get slobbering drunk with my doctor,” he said. He pulled over and turned off the car. “Look man,” he began. “You deserve an explanation for that,” he said. “It’s just, that night-with Jordan, I was going trying to work something out. I left you, that isn’t okay,” he said.

“You did leave, but I know you had your reasons,” I said. “You don’t need to justify yourself to me or anyone else,” I said. He smiled and sighed. “So did you get affected by the disease?” Dean asked me. “No why?” I asked. “Because Sam did.”

This is what Dean did. I love him, but he has serious emotional blockage. He was redirecting, but I let him. “Eileen doesn’t love him anymore?” I asked. “I dunno, but I think he’s kinda torn up about it,” he said. I decided to tell him about Jordan, she was his friend after all.

“She had roses in her lungs?” he said. “Ouch,” he said then smiled softly. “That must be the worst way to find out someone is not that into you,” he said. “Yeah,” I said.

“So, angels are after her?” Dean said. “An angel. I don’t know who,” I said. “Yeah, but why her? What does an angel want with her?” he asked me as he gave out an exaggerated yawn.

“Sam and Jordan aren’t going to the bunker. We can stop somewhere tonight,” I said. “No, I’m not that to-“ another yawn. “It’s either that or let me drive. Jack would kill me if I let you die from a car crash instead of old age,” I said. “Fine. I was hungry anyways,” he said. We pulled into a cheap motel. “You go ahead and check us in, and I’ll get some food. Want anything?” he said. “Alcohol,” I said. “Got it,” he said driving off.

I knew what I was doing when I told the person at the front desk one bed. It wasn’t like I sleep, but Dean does. So why get more than one bed? Why more than one room? More money for later, right? I booked the room and gave Dean the number. He came in later with two fast food bags and an assortment of alcohol.

“Hey,” he said as he looked to see that there was only one bed. “Uhh Cas? Did you get yourself a room?” he asked me. “I can stay with you,” I said. “Uhuh where are you going to-“ “Sleep?” I said. “Dean? We’ve been over this. I don’t sleep,” I said, giving him a half smile as I watched him blush. As I took out a beer I made a decision and said, “Dean?” “Yeah?” he said, trying to hide the red tint of his cheeks. “You’re blushing.”

That made him seven shades darker. “No I’m not,” he said. “Yes,” I said taking a sip. “You are.” “Fuck off Cas,” he said. I laughed and smiled at him until I could see him straining not to smile.

“So what are you going to do while I sleep?” Dean asked. “Watch over you,” I said as he downed his third beer while I was still on my first. “How did she get you so drunk?” I asked him. “What?”

“How did she manage to get you so drunk that you ended up in her clothes?” I asked. He gave a small smile. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said.

“You left me! At least tell me how she managed to get you so drunk,” I said. He sighed. “You gotta swear to not tell a soul, no you can’t tell anybody. Somethings don’t have souls,” he said. “Dean, I don’t exactly have friends who care about what you do,” I said.

“Alright so, I don’t know how, but she knew I was going through something. You know, emotions and shit. She has this self therapy trick she does. You take shots, you give them a toxic relationship, thought, or traight, then you drink it,” he said.

I looked at him. “How is that supposed to help?” I asked. “It does!” he said. “I swear! Come here,” he said, taking out a bottle of harder liquor. I guess he didn’t remember that it takes an entire liquor store to get me drunk, but I humored him.

“Okay, let’s name a toxic problem we both have,” Dean said. “Emotional constipation,” I said. He glared then shrugged and poured us both a shot. “Alright. This shot is emotional constipation, and we are going to drink it, deal with it, and then let it out of our systems,” he said and drank it. I drank mine, and it wasn’t really anything. This felt like an excuse to drink, but he was smiling. This was a secret between us. Me and him.

“Let’s not continue this therapy,” I said without thinking. “We don’t need you ending up in my pants before we go home.” He spit out his drink. “Cas, never say that again,” he said, cheeks aflame. “I am sorry, that isn’t what I meant,” I said, embarrassed myself.

“M-maybe I should go to bed?” he said. “Yeah we’ve got to get back on the road in the morning,” he said. “Dean! Wait!” I said. “What’s wrong Cas?” he asked me. “Why don’t we watch a movie?” he asked. “Man, it’s 3am?” he said.

“I know, but it’s the Princess Bride,” He sat up and looked at me. “The Princess Bride. You want me to stay up, and watch the Princess Bride with you?” he said. “If you don’t want to,” I said sadly. “I can watch it alone,” I said. “No,” he said. “I’ll watch it with you.”

This seemed to be our moments moments when we weren’t paying attention. We just acted naturally. No thinking stopping us. Just us.

He is beautiful. So perfect. When we started the movie, we were at opposite sides of the bed, and by the middle, we were less than two inches apart. “Dean I don’t understand. If the prince loves her then-“

He had fallen asleep on my shoulder. I didn’t have the heart to move. This was perfect. So sadly perfect. No Sam or Jack to make him nervous. No Jordan to tease him. No impala to remind him of his homophobic father. Just him and me. He may not love me, but I think he does. I am dense, but I have had time to think and I know he loves me too.

I laid us down, and he wrapped his arm around me. My heart beat fast, but slowly caned with Dean’s calm sleeping breaths. I pu my arms around him and I held him until we were ready to leave the next day.

...

Dean’s pov

I woke up to being held close by Cas. I could smell him. I could hear his heart beat from where I was laying on his chest. Before I thought, I snuggled closer, but then I remembered, “Good morning Dean.” Angels don’t sleep.

I tried to sit up, but he held me. “You can get up, if you want to,” he said. “But you don’t have to. I wanted to see what you were wanting to talk about?” he said.

I laid there for a minute cursing myself. “God Cas I’m a fucking kid all over again,” I said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been myself,” I said. “Don’t be, Dean. We have been through a lot and I need to let you know that no matter what you do, where you go, or who you love, the people that matter will love you,” he said.

My heart stopped. Cas knew. I looked at him, he wasn’t smiling, but just looking me in the eye. “Cas, you knew?” “Know what Dean?” “That I’m- bisexual?” I said. I had said those words more than once before, and my dad almost killed me. But he’s gone now, and good riddens. “I know you Dean. I hear your prayer to me, even when you’re not aware your praying.”

“I have seen you at your worst and at your best. And I still love you,” he said. The world stopped and I waited for the Empty to come, but it didn’t and it never would again. “I love you too Cas,” I said. “I love you. I love you. I love you. God I love you Cas. I’m sorry I didn’t say so before. I thought if I didn’t, you would have stayed. I missed you and I’m lost without you,” I said.

“Swear you’ll never do that again,” I said to Cas. “Swear you’ll never leave me again.” “I swear before all of Heaven, Earth, and Hell. I swear before the Empty Dean, you’ll never have to worry about me leaving ever again.” In a second of every that I could have ever wanted, our lips met. It was like fireworks at a Led Zeppelin concert. It was like pie and a good movie. It was like a limited edition DC comic. It was everything, and I was finally able to enjoy it. This moment only belonged to us. No one could take it away.

And as we went home, I held his hand in mine. We planned our first date.

[smol-and-grumpy]

With All My Heart - P.01

This is the epilogue to Dear Dean.

Grant that I shall never seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, or to be loved as to love, with all my heart.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2645

A/N: This is the first part to the epilogue. You might see some other parts because I can’t stop coming back to them whenever I’m inspired. As always, thank you @themoonandotherslikeit​ <3

May 2nd, 1946

Hi Sammy,

I’m writing to you on the first page of the new notebook Jamie gifted me. 

She’d caught me scribbling notes on papers around the house-- habit I picked up while I was a prisoner in camp, I guess. I just feel like it’s the only way I can tell what’s really going on in my head. I’ve seen things, Sammy, and I’ve done things I’m not entirely proud of.

I remember there was a day when I woke up and my boots were gone. Apparently, if you don’t tie it to yourself at night, you will wake up without them. I’ve learned it the hard way. I spent a couple of days walking bare feet in the freezing cold. I almost lost a fucking toe, can you imagine? I can be thankful that I was an officer and didn’t have to work outside. I walked upon a dying soldier one day, his boots were still intact. I took it from him, Sammy. Of course I waited until he was gone. I still feel bad about it to this day, but those boots were the only thing that kept me from losing my feet. I tied them tightly around me ever since. I know you wouldn’t be proud of what I’ve done, but I just had to survive. I promised Jamie to come back and that promise was literally the only thing that kept me alive. 

You remember the feeling of hunger we had while Dad was gone for a long period of time? Where we barely had enough to get by and we ate cereal with water because milk was just too expensive? Now, take that and make it 10x worse. The feeling of hunger in camp is always present. There was not a day, an hour, a minute where I wasn’t hungry. You adjust through time, but the road from being hungry to your stomach feeling numb, that’s the worst. 

I don’t even know why I’m writing about camp because it’s basically the only thing I don’t want to be reminded of. Back to the notes, shall we?

There were a couple of notes around the house, that always started with Hi Sammy, but I’ve never gotten around to write more. I just couldn’t, Sam. I didn’t know what to write to you, since I know that you won’t ever get to read them anyway.

On my Birthday, Jamie had the wrapped up notebook in her hand and told me that she wants me to write down my thoughts. It should be some kind of therapy, she said. I know she’s right, but I just couldn’t start to write anything in it until today. 

Hope’s sleeping on my arm, by the way, so I’m scribbling in here one armed, hope you can still read it. I know that you won’t, but let us just pretend that you will, alright? 

I’m sitting in our study, that used to be Jamie’s old room. There’s a window by the desk, and I can see our garden from here. Jamie’s tending to some crops, leaving me to take care of little Hope. I still don’t know if I’m doing a good job with her, but Hope doesn’t complain, so I’ll take that as I’m doing alright. She’s almost a year now. Her Birthday is a couple of days away, and we invited people to come over. Trenton’s Mom is coming, and some neighbors with their kids. Jamie didn’t want that, though. She said Hope’s too little to know it anyway, but Jameson insisted. Maybe he thought that he could score it with one of the single moms, I don’t really know. 

I live in her house now, and her brother Jameson (who’s apparently is a real charmer with the ladies) is living with us. He’s a war veteran, too. He had lost a leg, but he’s cheerful as fuck. I built him a new room downstairs next to the living room, at least now he doesn’t have to sleep on a couch. He helped me build it, too. The two of us were working well into the night every night for two weeks. I also took care of Hope during that time because Jamie attended nursing school in the evenings. During the day, I found work in a nearby Garage. The owner liked me enough to promote me, can you imagine? Me, looking over 20 people? Yeah, you’d have a field day making fun of me.

I went back to clear our old house, Sammy. I took your belongings with me. I hope it’s okay that I kept some things that were hard for me to part with. I gave some of it to Jess. I’ve contacted her after I settled with Jamie. I couldn’t do it before, there was just too much going on and my leg was still in a cast. I’m sorry. She’s doing good, Sammy. Did you know that she too was pregnant? I guess it happened on that last furlong back to the states, huh? I don’t know if she told you or if you held back this big news from me until you were ready to tell, and frankly now, it doesn’t really matter anymore. She had a little boy, he has the same eyes as you. There was no doubt that it’s yours, Sammy. Congratulations! 

I felt so proud, but also sad that you’ll never get to see him, never get to see him grow up, and he’ll never know how wonderful you are. His name is Samuel Jr. by the way, but if it’s true that the dead are watching over us, you might have heard it from Jess already. She told me she prays to you every night. We keep in touch and we had them both here for Christmas. We talked about you most of the night (apart from Jim and Jack, Jamie’s brothers who didn’t make it back home). It’s good, Sammy. Don’t worry about us. I’ll promise to look out for Jess and little Sam. You have my word. That’s the least I can do.

Jamie is pregnant at the moment. We’re expecting twins in about a month and a half. I should have known that there were chances that we will end up with twins since Jamie herself is a twin and her mother and grandmothers both were twins. I’m scared, to be perfectly honest with you, Sam. Imagine me with two tiny babies. Yeah, that’s a really good joke, isn’t it? Except it isn’t a joke.. Jamie is freaking out, since her mother died in childbirth, she’s afraid that she’ll end up the same and has written a will and what not. I don’t really know how I can help her get over the fear, since my head is not really the right place for fucking rainbows. It doesn’t mean I don’t try, though. We talk a lot when we get a quiet moment in bed. Her head on my chest, painting figure eights on my skin. It’s good if the subject of the discussion wasn’t so dark.

The girl is fucking huge, by the way. That’s the reason we cleared out Jamie’s parents old room and bought a new, really big bed. There was no way we could have fit in the old bed they had, with Hope occasionally coming in to snuggle with us during the night. Next step would be to clear out Jim’s room. But we’re in no rush. It seems like Jamie needs time, and who am I if I don’t allow her the time she needs to grieve Seeing that I’m still writing to you, I’m not exactly the poster child for it, right? 

Should have seen us when we went furniture shopping for a new bed, Sammy. Jamie waltzed through the store, and I carried Hope around. I think we were in there for hours, and Jamie still hadn’t found a mattress she liked. I let her, even if my arms were numb from carrying Hope, but she’s carrying two babies, so who was I to complain, right? The salesman though, he was so sick of us, I could tell. He pulled me aside, asking if I had no say in this. I couldn’t help but laugh. Of course I didn’t have to help Jamie put him into place. I just told him that maybe he should think about women as something else than a homemaker, then maybe we wouldn’t want another salesman about now. We found another sales clerk, the only woman working in there. Mom would have been so proud. It wasn’t an expensive bed, so the commission for selling ain’t that big, but we sure will have to go back there a couple more times and he can be sure that we won’t be asking for him. So, there’s that.

Actually, the salesman asked me if my wife could maybe make up her mind because he could have sold three beds (at least) during that time. I was a little taken aback when he said wife, not gonna lie. I asked Jamie to marry me, I really did. Jameson offered to babysit when there was a fair last autumn. I didn’t have a ring because I kinda spent all my money l on the new room for Jameson and nursing school for Jamie. Plus I gave Jess some, to help her get by with the little one. I gave her your ring which they handed me after they went through your belongings. I was surprised it was still intact. You shielded it pretty good from the blast, Sam. I gave it to her anyway, said that you wanted to propose and as a symbol, she could keep it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jess cry so hard. It’s good Sammy, I’m good with it. The ring was supposed to be hers. 

Anyway, I asked Jameson if it was okay for me to ask Jamie, because I was being polite and that’s what they do, right? Asking the dad’s? But since there’s only Jameson, I went along with it. Jameson just bent over laughing, asking me what took me so fucking long and honestly, I didn’t know. It was good as it was at first, but then I thought about Jamie writing to me once that Jim sent her the silk fabric of his reserve parachute so she could walk down the aisle in white silk. Yeah, I thought about that, and I knew that I had to because I wanted to see that, too. There’s no question that I love her though, so. 

We were at the fair, and I only had money for a toy ring. You know those from the gumball machines? It’s not romantic at all, I know, but I guess when you’ve been through war together, you can look past that. I got on one knee and she almost said yes. She was beginning to show already, and she said that even if she wanted to marry me, there’s no way the fabric Jim sent was enough to wrap around her so we kinda haven’t set the date yet, but it’ll be after the twins will be born. It kinda gave Jamie some hope and will to get through childbirth, I guess. I bought her gum later too, so there’s that. 

Cas stayed in Germany, but not for long if you were wondering. He went back into combat and was leading a battalion in Japan. I wrote to him regularly, because if someone deserves to come back it’s Cas. I was rooting for him. He came back, which I still don’t know how he pulled it off because I heard that 8 out of 10 people weren’t gonna return.

Remember Harvelle? He went back to France and married Lisa. He told me to come visit, but you know me, flying is not really my favorite. I guess I just need time, maybe someday we will. I know Jamie wants to. She wants to visit Jim and Jack, and I really wanna visit you, Sam. I really do. I hope one day I will be able to.

The war is now over, Sammy. Had been for about 6 months. We won, even if we’ve lost so much along the way.

How naïve were we to think that we’d get out of there alive? Remember, they prepared us pretty well, didn’t they? We thought it would be a piece of cake. Go in there, kill some Krauts, come out unscattered, and go home with a fat paycheck for the ‘service’. The moment I saw people being shot at when we got off the landing craft, I knew that this is no fucking piece of cake, and they’d been lying to us all along. But what could I do? You just have to keep on going, keep on fighting for a chance to somehow get back home. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t really fair to lie to us about how big it really was. It wasn’t really fair to let us think that we’d get to go home as soon as we did our deeds. It also wasn’t really fair to think that the war would be over by Chrsitmas and not handing out clothes to shield us from the cold. Nothing was fair, was it?

Well, some of us did get back, but we’ve all lost something in the war. Some a limb or two, some their hearts, and some did lose parts of themselves. We’re not the same person we went in as. We came out broken and bend. We can’t even get it fixed because nothing could fix what we’ve lost. 

There’s really nothing I could do other than carry on. I carry on for the ones who aren’t as lucky as me. The ones who won’t get to marry their loved ones, the ones who won’t get to see their children grow up, the ones who had their lives cut short, the ones who got their young adult lives stolen from them, most of all, Sammy, I carry on for you. I’m doing all the things you will never get to do, only because I know that you will come back and haunt me, maybe smack me over the head for being a jerk, if I don’t do it. I’ll do you proud, I promise. It’s the only thing I can do and think about. You were always the voice of reason, weren’t you? Even now if I have to think hard about doing something, there’s a voice in me asking “What would Sammy do? What would Sammy think? What would Sammy want me to do?” 

I miss you so much, Sam, you have no idea. If it wasn’t for Jamie, I don’t know if I’d be here. It’s her voice that guides me out of the dark whenever I wake up and think I’m still in Normandy. It’s her embrace that pulls me out of the water around me that threatens to drown me, whenever I have weird thoughts. It’s her, who carries me up to the bed whenever I look too far into a bottle because I can’t shut off the noises of shells exploding around me. I don’t think I even deserve her, but she’s an anchor to me and Jameson. I’m only a little sad that you guys never got a chance to meet, Sammy. If you did, I’d probably be too jealous of the bond you would have. No offense, but I’m greedy, and I want her to myself. I’m just being honest.

Hope’s awake, as you can see from the saliva smeared on the ink. I need to go get something into her belly.

I can’t believe how much I drifted off when all I wanted to say is Happy Birthday, little brother! I love you.

Dean

@dean-winchesters-bacon​ @beautifulbowleggedangel​ @flamencodiva​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @fangirl-and-medstudent-help​ @liwopanyaasss​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​

[5typesoftrash]

Good Morning, Darkest Secrets

For @specialagentrin because goddammit, she has inspired me to write so much fic recently. It isn’t even funny. I loveeeeeeee youuuuuuuuuu

RATING T RELATIONSHIPS Dean/Cas, Sam/Cas FANDOM Supernatural Words 2,715 Comments/Warnings angst, pining, unrequited love (I’ll let you see which side), tw: suicidal thoughts/actions/ideation, depression, tw: abuse

***

A boy climbs through his window. “Ow!” he says when he hits the floor.

Dean sits up in bed and looks at him. “Who are you?” he asks. The boy sits up.

“Huh,” he says instead of answering, peering at Dean’s face in the dark. “I must have overshot. I’m looking for Sam Winchester.”

Dean closes his eyes in exasperation. “Wrong bedroom,” he manages. “Sammy’s down the hall. Why are you breaking into our house?”

The kid shrugs. “Felt like it. Which door?”

Dean watches him. He moves weird, kinda like Sam and Dean themselves do, and Dean wonders what that means. He’s almost got it, it’s on the tip of his tongue-

“First on your right. If he hits you, I wasn’t here.”

The kid glances over his shoulder and flashes Dean a grin that makes his knees weak. “I’ll remember that.”

Dean is ten years old.

--

The boy’s name is Castiel. He’s in Sam’s class. He’s seven. (Sam is eight.)

Dean learns all of this the next morning at breakfast, after his dad’s yelling wakes him up. Something about Sam having a boy in his bed and how John refuses to let his sons be homos. Whatever that means.

Mary calms him down with a soft voice and a hand on his arm and invites Castiel to breakfast. Dean’s eyes follow this mysterious new boy the whole way down the stairs.

Castiel’s shoulders still shift awkwardly under his coat (which Dean can see in the light of day is a trench coat. He didn’t know those came small enough for seven-year-olds) and Dean still burns to find out why that looks so familiar. But he refrains.

There are things he can’t blurt out at the breakfast table.

Mary gives Castiel three slices of toast and almost half their jam. He stares at it with wide eyes for almost thirty seconds. “It’s food,” Dean says helpfully. “You eat it. Are you okay?”

Castiel looks up at him with blue eyes free of guile or blame. “Are you sure you can spare this much?” he asks of the entire room. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Dude, nobody talks like that,” Dean tells him, laughing. Mary smacks the back of his head.

“Yes, of course we can. I wouldn’t give it to you if we couldn’t scrape by.”

Castiel looks down at his plate in shame. “This is more food than I’ve gotten at one meal in three years.”

Dean’s mouth drops open. “No way.”

Castiel turns red and takes a bite of his toast. No one says anything else. Mary tells Dean off later for being rude and insensitive.

Dean is still fascinated.

--

Castiel is new in town, but he stays for a long time. He starts coming home from school with Sam every day. They’re obviously best friends.

Dean is… Dean is jealous.

Of Sam.

That’s never happened before.

He hangs out in the same room as them a lot of the time, but they are always very obviously hanging out with each other. He’s just the weird big brother who’s also there.

And Cas – Dean has no idea when he became ‘Cas’ – seems to avoid him at all costs, if he can. Dean tries not to push. He just doesn’t know why Cas is so uncomfortable around him. But it doesn’t matter, because it goes away after a few months. By July, they’re all hanging out together, playing Mario Kart and marathoning Star Wars.

But Dean is still jealous.

--

Dean’s a freshman when Sam starts middle school. He and Cas have three of six classes together, and Cas comes over to study every chance he gets. Dean stopped being jealous of Sammy around the end of seventh grade, but he thinks he’ll always be bitter that Cas seems to prefer Sam to him.

Especially at night, when he opens the little box that he keeps locked in the back of his mind. It sits on a shelf, gathering dust, and inside are all the feelings, the thoughts, the little things Dean catalogued in those first two years. Dean shoved them all in their when he realized what it was, and he never lets them out, except when he’s miserable and alone.

He’s spent the last two years since then praying that it would go away. He needs it to go away. He can’t be like this, he can’t be a freak, he can’t be that thing that his father was so scared of when Dean was just ten years old. He can’t.

He is.

One day, he lays on the floor of Sam’s room with his giant-ass AP World History textbook wide open on his face when Sam says it.

“I kissed Cas today.”

Sam is on his bed, on his stomach, flipping through his Alg-one notebook, trying to make sense of the notes he took in class. He says it nonchalantly, out of the blue, and Dean almost does a spit take.

“Um.” Dean’s voice is muffled by the college ruled pages above him. He sits up and closes the book. “You did what now?” he asks incredulously.

Sam looks at him evenly. His hair is a little bit too long – he’s been growing it out this year. Dean tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen. “I kissed him,” he repeats.

There’s a pause, then Dean says, “well, what happened?”

Sam scoffs. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you! Nothing happened. I liked a guy, I kissed him, he kissed back, end of story.”

“He kissed back?” Dean doesn’t know why he can’t seem to process any of the information that’s being thrown at him. (That’s a lie; it’s because he’s so fucking blindsided by all of this that he can barely register Sammy likes guys, let alone Sammy likes the guy that I like or the guy that I like likes Sammy back.) “So what now? Are you like… boyfriends?”

Sam shrugs. “We haven’t gotten that far. It was at lunch break and we haven’t seen each other since.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Don’t you have fifth together?”

“Yeah, we sit on opposite sides of the room and we were doing a lab today so we couldn’t even email back and forth like we usually do in that class.”

Dean lets out a whoosh of air and collapses back onto the floor. “Alright then. Well, good luck.” He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say.

Sam makes a derisive noise. “Right. Thanks, Dean.”

“Whatever, bitch.”

Sam flips him off without looking away from his notes. “Exactly, jerk.”

Dean is miserable now.

--

They are boyfriends.

Dean discovers this six days later. It’s Tuesday, which is a cursed day in his opinion, because it’s the day he dies every week. (Tuesdays are inspection day. He has to wear his uniform into school and he’s not allowed to touch anybody or wear a hat.) And now it’s more cursed because it will forever be the day that Castiel Novak told him he was dating his brother immediately after spilling iced coffee on him.

“Okay, asshole, it is on,” Dean snarls, only kind of playing. “This is my ROTC uniform. How fuckin’ dare you.”

Cas just laughs when Dean shoves him. “Dean, I apologized. I’ll get it dry cleaned for you.”

Dean grumbles as he wads up napkins and dabs at it. “You don’t have the money for that,” he says finally. “I’ll do it myself.”

Cas closes his mouth, then opens it again to say, “are you going to kill me if I date your brother?”

Dean’s head snaps up. “Why would I kill you?”

Cas can’t meet his eyes. “Well, you’re incredibly protective of him, and when I first moved here, you didn’t seem to… like me very much.”

Dean scoffs. “Fuck me,” he sings under his breath. “Nah, man, you’re great. I’m just a dick like that. But don’t worry about it, okay? No, go ahead and date Sam. He’s been crushing on you for like, ever.”

Cas looks incredibly relieved. “Great,” he says quietly. “Good. Thank you.”

Dean just nods his acknowledgment and waves Cas away. He needs to hit the road in the next fifteen minutes if he’s gonna get to the school on time, and Cas and Sam have to catch their bus.

(Dean fails his inspection that day.)

--

Cas is a freshman when Dean finally finds out why he moves funny.

Dean is a junior, and he’s about .3 GPA away from dropping out of high school, and he goes to pick Cas up one day because he is the one chaperoning Cas and Sam’s dates. Because their parents don’t even know Sam’s gay.

(Bi? He mighta said he was bi. Dean really has no idea, all his tiny brain has room for is Sam likes Cas.)

He walks into Cas’s house and the first thing he hears is the wet smack of flesh on flesh. The second thing he hears is something thwip-ing through the air. The third thing he hears is crying. The fourth thing he hears is Cas’s voice, and Cas is begging.

“Please stop,” he cries. “Please, Luci, I’ll do anything, please! Just stop!”

Dean pushes the door open and there are three boys inside it. One looks about a year older than Dean, with pale hair and evil-looking eyes. One is Castiel, who looks terrified, like a deer in headlights as he stares wide-eyed at Dean. And one is shorter, sandier, unconscious, and bleeding.

“Did you kill him?” he demands the tall one. He assumes this is Luci, especially considering the bloody gashes on Cas’s exposed back – holy shit, Cas isn’t wearing a shirt and Dean has only just registered that – that match the bloody metal end of the belt Luci’s holding.

Cas kneels, in Luci’s moment of distraction, to press two fingers to the short one’s throat. “He’s alive,” he whispers, and his voice wavers and breaks. Dean glares at the tall guy.

“Get the hell out of here,” he commands. Luci looks confused and defiant but leaves the room. Dean pulls out his phone and dials 911.

“Who was that?” he asks when they’re riding in the back of an ambulance. Cas doesn’t look at him.

“One of the twins, the two oldest. Lucifer. He likes to hurt the rest of us. He does it for sport.”

Dean purses his lips. “Right,” he whispers. “I should’ve known.”

Cas does look at him then. “Why should you have known?”

Dean meets his eyes with sorrow. “Cause I’m an abuse victim too.”

--

Somehow, Sam and Cas are still going strong by their sophomore year, celebrating 3 years in October. On their anniversary (the fourth), Cas stands outside of their house with a big sign. Dean sees him through the open front door.

He stands in the doorway to read it. It says “HOMECOMING?” Dean grins.

“Yeah!” he shouts. Cas shakes his head, laughing.

Tell Sam, he mouths. Dean turns his head and shouts up the stairs.

“Sammy, I’m taking your boyfriend to homecoming!”

“Whatever, jerk!” Sam yells back.

“You won’t be saying that when we’re doin’ it in a limo, bitch!” Dean declares, then drops a wink at Cas and disappears back into the house.

--

Sam still seems happy by junior year. Dean has long since dropped out by now and is working part-time with their uncle Bobby. He never sees Cas anymore, and that’s probably for the better, considering that every time he does, he is in desperate need of a cold shower.

Sam still raves about him obliviously, and Dean still listens with a straight face – a talent he’s mastered after years of hiding his own stupid bullshit. Dean doesn’t let on. He’s gotten very, very good at not letting on.

He breaks down, once, and Sam finds him. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, and it’s made more so by the fact that he can’t even explain to his brother why he’s crying on the floor of the bathroom. Sam doesn’t seem to care, though. He just grabs Dean and pulls him close to his chest and doesn’t let him go for a very, very long time.

Dean hates everything.

--

Dean hates how amazing his little brother is. Sam is such a great person, and he deserves the kind of happiness he’s found with Cas. They’ve been together for six years and they’re both so much happier than they were before. Dean’s seen the change happen firsthand.

He hates how much he resents it. He hates how much he wishes he could ruin it for them. He hates how terrible a person he is, for wanting to destroy this beautiful thing that Sam managed to create for himself out of the ashes of their old life.

He hates himself.

Dean has Castiel’s phone number. He’s used it a grand total of once.

He uses it now.

You and Sam deserve each other is all his message says. It doesn’t say any of the other hundreds of things he wants it to say. It doesn’t say that Dean’s a coward. It doesn’t say that Dean is a terrible person who doesn’t deserve Cas’s friendship. It doesn’t say that Dean hopes Cas and Sam are happy together. It doesn’t say that Dean hopes everyone’s happier without him.

It doesn’t say that if all goes well, Dean will be dead before Cas reads that text message.

He almost jumps out the fourth-story window. He manages to stop himself.

He spends the night in the hospital with a pump in his stomach.

Sam is the only family member who waits with him.

--

Shit hits the fan when Sam comes home for Christmas break. He’s been off at Stanford for three months – and Cas with him, because Cas swore to follow Sam anywhere – and they both come home for two weeks in the end of December.

Mom’s dead; she killed herself eighteen months ago. Dad was killed in a drunk driving crash. Sam and Dean are all alone, just the two of them and Cas and uncle Bobby.

Bobby pays for the house, the upkeep, the water and electric; he takes care of everything so that Dean can keep living there, in Lawrence, in a huge fucking house that he doesn’t need, all on his own.

He should just sell the place, move to Palo Alto to be near his brother, and get a tiny apartment for less than a thousand dollars a month if he can hack it.

He doesn’t sell it because it’s the last place their mom was alive.

Sam and Cas come home and they all get a tree together. They decorate it on the nineteenth. On the twenty-second, Sam asks Dean why he’s been avoiding them all break.

“I’m not avoiding you guys,” Dean denies, even though he is.

“Then why won’t you look at me? Why haven’t you said more than five words to Cas since we’ve been here? Why do you spend all your time holed up in your room?”

Dean rolls his eyes and tries to shrug it off, but then Sam says something that cuts deep.

“Do you still not approve of me dating him?”

Dean freezes.

“What?”

Sam’s face looks broken. “He’s tried so hard to win you over, to make you like him. Do you still hate him that much?”

Dean can’t hold it in anymore. He can’t.

“No, I don’t!” he screams. “I never hated him! He’s my best friend, man, and I care about him as much as you do! But no, I don’t approve of you dating him.”

“Why not?” Sam asks. His cheeks are glistening and his face is broken. His eyes look hopeless.

“Because I’m in love with your boyfriend, Sammy!” Dean yells.

There’s silence for fourteen seconds before someone speaks.

“I should leave.”

Dean glances around. Cas is standing in the doorway. He presses his eyes closed.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he whimpers.

“Yeah, well, I did,” Cas replies. He pushes past Dean and leaves the front door open when he walks through it. Sam shoots Dean a look and follows him.

As they walk away from him, Dean thinks he’s just ruined the only thing he had left that was actually important to him.

Good going, Dean.

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Taphophobia - Dean x Reader (One Shot)

A/N: Okay, this is going a little slow. But, seems to be going still. I have this edited piece, and then at least one drabble to post before I crash. As usual, feedback is always incredible. I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse. Phobias. Being buried alive. Reader death. Nothing but angst.

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

“What's your biggest fear?” The air chilled around you and Dean. Fogging up the breath you let out into the night. Sixteen years old, and too many cares in the world.

Hunting did that to a person. Aged them young. You both felt as if you were forty. Weighed down by the weight of others' lives.

“My biggest fear?” He passed over the whiskey, and leaned back against the tree behind him. Humming a bit as he thought. Looking up at the moon as you rolled up the sleeves to his jacket over your own arms. “I don't know...I guess...” The Winchester inhaled deeply, trying to settle on one as you took a swig. “I guess being alone.” His lips tightened as he dwelled on it for a moment. “Yeah, I think that's it. Sammy...he's already talkin' college. And being left with dad...”

“Being alone sounds less scary than being left alone with John,” You shuddered at the very idea. Thinking of the bruises that had been known to line Dean's body.

He told everyone it was monsters. Always had. Yet, you knew better. A drunk, angry John Winchester was a force to be reckoned with. Dean rarely came out on top. But, he took it so you and Sam never had to. Always had been, and always would be, your hero.

“At least he's familiar,” The green eyes turned towards you. Trying to see the positive.

However, he must not have been able to. They widened as he imagined life alone with his father. Silently asking that you didn't leave him to face the reality. Didn't force him to make the choice between facing the emptiness he was so scared of, and the harsh life he'd live with only John by his side.

“Yeah...I get that.” The words seemed to relax him a little more. Letting a deep, heavy sigh leave the boy that carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Your own parents had been killed six years prior. You'd just been a kid. So had Dean. The only reason John had allowed you to join the crew was so that Sam was never left on his own. Unfair? Perhaps, but that's how things were.

The Winchesters were all you had. If it came down to choosing John over nothing? You'd choose the abuse. As sad and lonely as it would be. Anything to be close to the memories of Sam and Dean.

“Now, what about you?” Dean's brow rose. Asking you to dig deep. You took another large swig in response. Letting the burn down your throat give you strength. “That bad?”

“It just freaks me out,” You shuddered, passing over the bottle for Dean to finish. Wincing a bit at the after taste. “You know I don't like small spaces?” An easy nod was his answer.

It was no secret. Hiding away, in the back of a closet was the first thing you were able to remember. Listening to the screams of your family. Hearing the roar of the wolf that had tore their beating hearts from their bodies. That kind of thing left scars.

Maybe even more than holding a baby brother while everything burned had impacted Dean. At least he hadn't been able to see Mary on the ceiling. You could see the flash of blood through the panel's cracks. See the bodies being thrown.

John had tossed you in a coat closet, once. His version of a fitting punishment. For simply grabbing his fist before it could hit the squared jaw of the oldest boy.

While you were in there, you could hear John raving. Words slurring as he tore Dean a new one verbally. Not even caring that Sam would be witness for once. Too deep in the drink and grief to care, anymore.

When Dean had opened up the door, the damage had been done. Eleven years old, and mentally broken. Tears trailed down your face as the heavy panting left your parted lips. Too trapped in the memories to move.

The older brother had to crawl in next to you. Drained and all, he'd helped you ground yourself enough to walk away. To plaster a smile on your face to tell the youngest that everything would be okay.

“Just small spaces?” His brow furrowed at that. Remembering it all. Wondering, not for the first time, just how damaged his father had left you.

“Almost,” You shrugged, tugging Dean's leather jacket closer around your body. Needing that sense of security as you faced what haunted your dreams. “Being buried alive.” His head tilted a bit as you explained. “There's the small space, for one. The lack of control that comes with it. You can't escape...it isn't slow, either. You have time to panic. To try and claw your way to safety...but, in the end? There's not a thing you can do.”

Every nightmare you'd ever had stared back at you. There wasn't a thing you hadn't imagined. The terror that came with it sank into your bones.

“Come here,” Dean tugged you closer, holding you under his strong grasp. His chin rested along your scalp. “Let's think about something more positive, alright? I'm kinda sick of all the doom and gloom.” Sick of seeing your unease. He wanted you happy. Safe.

As you nodded, his lips dropped to press against your temple. Telling you how much you meant to him without words. A gentle squeeze pulled some of the tension from your body. Trusting him to keep you secure. After all, he always had.

–

“Where is she?” Dean growled out, stalking forward with fury in his green eyes. The male witch was shoved backwards by his throat.

There was no fear present in his face. No remorse. Simply amusement. As if he got off on causing pain.

“You aren't going to make it in time,” The being bit out gleefully. Looking up at the hunter with a smug grin. It didn't fade when the solid fist slammed into his head. If anything, it only grew stronger despite the blood dripping down his chin. “She had six hours...if she's lucky.”

“You better hope you're wrong.” Magic stalling cuffs held him captive. Leaving Dean time to play. Time he didn't have.

Every minute ticked by faster and faster. Making the Winchester more desperate with each click from the clock. Torture was a trick he'd learned to keep under wraps. However, he had no problem placing each cut into the unmarred skin of the witch. Ensuring that his pain would be too much to bear. Sure enough, it worked. “She's buried,” The bloodied being hissed out, arching against his restraints. “But, that's all you're getting from me, Winchester.”

“You did what?” The hunter roared, grabbing the man by his collar. His stomach twisting at the thought. He could hear your voice from all those years ago. Echoing in his head as his fist slammed into the smug face. Over and over again. Not caring if the witch was dead, or just unconscious. It was only the thought of time running low that pulled him away. “Sammy?” Dean was on the move as he called his brother. “We need to get some shovels. Start looking for any disturbed ground.”

“Why?” The younger man's voice cracked in fear. He had reason to be terrified. There was only minutes left. If you were lucky.

“The bastard threw her in the dirt,” Dean bit out, already on the prowl. Needing to fix everything. To save you. “We've got two acres to cover. He figured six hours, Sam...”

“Dean...what if-”

“Don't say it.” The biting tone ended the thought before it could escape. Terror squeezed at his heart. It was if he was feeling what you were. Suddenly his lungs burned. “We're going to make it in time. We have to, Sammy.”

“I'll meet you around back,” Sam stated softly. Almost as though he felt it was hopeless. Dean ended the call with a slam. Refusing to buy into the negativity.

It would be okay. You would be fine. You had to be.

Ten minutes. Twenty. By thirty, Dean was coated in sweat. His heart raced as he desperately searched over the ground.

Then, he saw it. The disturbed dirt was nestled beside a tree. At the very end of the property.

“Sam!” He shouted, already on the move. By the time his brother made it to his side, the flannel had been discarded. A large dent in the top started.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, taking in the size of the hole. There was little mistaking what rested underneath the dirt.

Neither brother said a word from that point on. Too afraid to do more than shovel. And pray that everything would be fine. Miracles happened every day. If anyone was due for one, it was you. Holding onto that thought, the dug until their muscles ached.

They'd ripped open a million graves in their life time. But this time? They were digging up yours. And it made all of the difference. What would usually take hours, and breaks only took them a fraction of the time.

You were down to seconds as Dean threw the final layer of dirt out with his bare hands. Exposing the shiny coffin that had been reported missing eight hours before. The witch had planned on nabbing one of them. You'd just happened to be in the way.

“Y/N!” He yelled out, yanking it open. There was no sound outside of their harsh breathing. You didn't move- didn't react- as the light hit your face. The color was leeched from your skin. “Y/N?” The broken crack left Dean as he stared. Trying to see movement. Anything to tell him you were okay. There was no fluttering of your eyelashes. No twitch in your limbs. Not even the rise and fall of your chest. “No,” He whispered; his eyes filling with the water he'd been fighting so hard to repress. “No...god, please...no.” He was lunging at you, then. Checking for your pulse. Even knowing that there would be none. “Damn it, Y/N...” Dean bit out, moving his hands to yours to begin chest compressions. “You can't leave me, okay? Not like this.” You didn't answer as he slammed his hands over your sternum rapidly. He bent over, pinching your nose before breathing into your parted lips.

Sam watched as his brother lost it. The tears slipped down the dirt covered skin only to land on your body. Cracking filled the air as the force of his will broke your ribs. But, there was no in drawn breath.

Fifteen minutes passed before the younger brother couldn't take anymore, “Dean...” Yet, the older brother didn't stop. Begging you quietly through gritted teeth to open those E/C eyes inside that coffin. “I...I think she's gone.” Sam's voice cracked, watching the scene unfold helplessly.

“She can't be,” Dean hissed out, starting to slow. His arms burned. The breath leaving his lips was ragged. Sweat trailed lines across his grey t-shirt and dirt coated skin. But, none of that mattered. Not so long as your chest didn't rise on its own.

“Dean-”

“No!” He shouted back. Voice hard and filled with threats of violence if anything got between him and you. “She's alive, damn it. She has to be...I have...I have to save her.” But that time, his movements ceased. It was beginning to sink in. “I...” His words ended as he looked down at the blue tint to your skin. There was no coming back. Your nails were ripped to shreds. Hands raw and bloody from your attempts to dig the coffin open. The material above your head was shredded. You'd fought til the end, he was sure. “Y/N?” The finality of it sunk in when you didn't respond. He lost it in earnest, then. “I...I...I'm...I'm so...so s...sorry, sweetheart.” His fingers ran through your hair, gently. Shaking as a broken sob left him. Sam could only sit back and watch as his brother mourned the love of his life.

It was daylight by the time he managed to pull himself away to begin building a pyre. The younger brother had it over half done. Preparing to give you a hunter's funeral. It felt more right. You had never been scared of fire.

Dean carried your body to the pile; kissing the cold forehead as he'd set you up on the wooden stand. When he'd pulled away, he willed you to move. Anything to tell him it was all a bad dream. That he was making a mistake.

There was nothing. With a defeated sigh, he stepped back. A small crack sounded, making him jerk down to the noise. Your phone rested on the ground, underneath his boot.

You'd never felt the need for that kind of privacy a password offered. He swiped the screen. Preparing to shut it off. Only, the sight of a sending message caught his attention.

An audio file glared up at him. Daring him to listen. Slowly, he pressed play. Raising it to his ear.

“Dean...I don't know if I have much time left,” Your voice shook into the phone's speaker. Dean looked over to the pile your covered body rested in. Forcing himself to remember that he wasn't hearing you in that moment. “I shouldn't be talking... It uses the air faster...I...I know that.” The broken edge that followed let him know that you were crying. “But, I'm getting tired...” He swallowed tightly; his eyes beginning to water at the anguish he was hearing. Dean had thought he'd been out of tears. He'd never been more wrong. “And I'm scared...” He'd known you would have been. But, hearing the words tore through him even more. “So...so scared.” A sniffle followed, “It's okay, though...” You swallowed tightly, trying to compose yourself. “Because...I know...I know this means...means that you're safe. He didn't get to you, first.” A weak laugh left your lips. As if that made everything alright, again. “And I know you won't be alone.” A thud sounded as your elbow hit the lid. He could picture you trying to wipe away the tears. His heart squeezed at the message. “Sammy's home, now.” The shakiness as you fought to remain strong was apparent. Not for yourself. But, for him. “He'll stay with you...If...If he doesn't, I'll haunt him. Burned body be damned.” You coughed, then. The air thickening the more you talked. There must have been some fight left in you. The beating of your fists could be heard before another sob, and a broken cry escaped. He hated the sound of it, but clung to the fact that you hadn't been completely resigned to your fate. You had been strong. If only it had been enough. “I just...I love you, okay?” You came back to your senses, for a moment. Remembering your mission. “I know...I know I say it a lot...but, I needed you to hear it right...right now.” Another sniff left you as you repressed the tears for a moment longer. “This isn't your fault, Dean...this...I'm...I'm okay with...with this being it...if..if it is.” Your final, gasping words that he'd ever hear had him dropping to his knees, “You're not alone, Dean...You're not...not gonna be all alone. I promise...That's what matters, alright? You're...you're not alone.”

The message ended, then. Leaving him to realize that your biggest fear hadn't truly been being buried alive, after all. You'd been trapped in that coffin. Facing the thing that you had claimed to be the one thing you couldn't handle. But, in the end? It had been something much deeper.

Your biggest fear had been that Dean would be, or feel, all alone. And have to face what you'd both been terrified of with it. The thing that he hadn't realized? His biggest fear hadn't truly been being alone. It had simply been being without you...

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

[holylulusworld]

Cold World

Summary: Two years after you left the bunker you meet Dean again. Things don’t go the way he wanted.

Pairing: former Dean x Reader, Sam Winchester, OMC Scott

Warnings: angst, a wedding, tension, remorseful Dean, a hint of fluff, injuries, arguments

Cold Masterlist

Three months later…

It’s odd to watch your friend, the tough huntress giggle while she’s walking down the aisle. Three months ago, she and Matt quit hunting, quit the life they had before to finally get what they want, what they need. Love…

Hunters never get a happy ending, but you pray for your friends they are going to make it. Her smile, the shine of her eyes makes you happy and devastates you at the same time.

You wish it was you and Dean doing his important step, but you will never be her and he will never be Matt.

Dean doesn’t make commitments; he doesn’t do love…and if he does…not for you…

Close to tears you take a deep breath to take Jackie’s bridal bouquet as she’s standing next to her groom to get married.

“You look beautiful.” Matt whispers and you see the adoration in his eyes. Now the tears start falling but no one knows these are tears of pain not ones of joy for your friends…

The ceremony is a blur. You try to listen, try to be happy for your friends but honestly, all you can think about is getting drunk and escape this fairytale romance.

Your heart still aches even after two years. Love doesn’t have an expiration date. It was always Dean for you from the moment you met but sadly…you never were the one for him…

Scott is standing at the bar, watching his brother getting his happy ending. Left behind he needs to move on too.

“Will you keep on hunting?” You ask and he shakes his head. “No.” He brings out.

“You don’t look happy, Scott. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…it was always her…ya know.” Scott whispers glancing at Jackie and you realize he’s in love with your friend, with his brother’s wife and you don’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry, Scott.” You whisper placing your hand onto his. He glances at you and tries to blink the tears away. The look on his face breaks your heart - you know it too well. “I know how you feel.”

“Dean Winchester is a fool.” Scott exhales turning away from the scene to not see his brother kissing the woman he loves. “If I would’ve had a chance with Jacks…”

“Did you ever tell her?”

“One night after we met and decided to stick together, hunt together I wanted to tell her how I feel but Jackie, she asked which kind of women my brother likes, and I knew I would never have a chance,” Scott whispers.

“What are your plans?”

“My dad needs help with his farm in Texas. He’s a retired hunter and offers shelter for other hunters. I will move back to Texas and forget about her, at least I hope so.”

“Love sucks…” You curse and for the first time Scott smiles at you.

“Why did you and Dean part ways?”

“That’s complicated…”

“I poured my heart out not minutes ago. Just tell me…I will never talk about it with anyone.”

“I felt like he never wanted me. There was no affection or at least companionship. Every touch was calculated to get me in his bed. Every smile never reached his eyes. It was like he tried to fake feelings and failed. I knew I would never be Lisa but at least…” You voice cracks and you need to compose yourself for a moment before you can talk again. “I thought I’m more than an easy lay, a random girl to him but I wasn’t.”

“Shit…you’re right…love sucks. It sucks and cuts your heart out till you are a suffering and sobbing mess. God, I wish I could walk over there kiss her hard and tell her I always loved her but I won’t. I love my little brother and I love her too much to ruin her special day.”

“You’re a good man. Someday you will find someone special. A girl worth your love, Scott. Just don’t give up on love.” You whisper not able to follow your advice.

“Why on earth?” Scott curses and you cock a brow.

“What’s wrong Scott?” You ask following his eyes. “Shall I kill him?”

“Maybe I can sneak out before he sees me.”

“I’ll start a distraction.”

“Scott, call me anytime you need help or a friend to talk to.”

“Go…I’ve got this,” Scott whispers as you try to run out of the ballroom only to bump into Dean’s chest.

“Do you want to dance with me, Sweetheart?” Dean chuckles and you glare at him.

“Why are you here?” You snarl and he shrugs. “I don’t think Jacks invited you to her wedding. Where’s is Sam anyways?”

“He’s away with another hunter and I thought I’ll come around to dance with my favorite girl. We could talk later…please…” The way Dean looks at you causes you to shiver, but not in a good way. His eyes are wrong…

“Hey, can I help you?” Jackie asks and just now you realize your friend is much too girly right now. It’s wrong…all wrong. One look into Dean’s eyes and you see the empty shell behind it.

If he’s angry, happy or sad you can see it in Dean’s eyes but right now there’s nothing and you know this means you are in trouble.

“Uh…can you offer Dean a drink I need to powder my nose. I think I’ll take your offer to dance with you. Give me just a minute, Dean.” You say and the ‘fake’ Dean is smiling but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

----

Searching for your phone you try to call Dean but oddly you’ve got no service. The streets are suddenly empty, and you know what’s wrong…

----

There’s a beeping tone, it’s annoying and you cover your ears with your hands as it gets unbearably loud. Voices are coming closer and you need to blink to differ between the street and a white room.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you feel like you are falling and then there is…nothing…darkness.

----

Someone is touching you when you try to open your eyes. Throat dry and head pounding you try to focus on what the person holding your hand tries to tell you but the pain in your forehead makes it heart to concentrate.

“Y/N?” The voice whispers. “Please wake up, Sweetheart. I’m here and Sammy too. The doctor said the edema is gone. Can you hear me?”

It’s a hard fight but you manage to open your eyes to meet worried olive ones. Your hand in his Dean squeezes it tightly.

“Y/N?” Sam says and you try to move your head but the pain in your body makes you groan, and you lay still immediately.

“I think she needs more pain meds, Sammy. Can you ask the nurse?”

“I’ll be right back.”

“What happened?” You cough.

“After we got out of the canalization you and Scott went to a bar. He drank too much and you had a car accident.” Dean explains and your eyes widen.

“Is Scott alright?”

“I’m sorry, he didn’t make it. The cops said it looked like he did it on purpose…” Dean whispers.

“On purpose…” You whisper rubbing your forehead. Images of that night flash up into your mind…the bar…Scott. “He told me he loves Jacks…damn…he drank too much and then…”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to talk right now. The doctor will be back soon.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Almost two weeks. They called me as you still got me as your emergency contact. Jackie and Matt had to take care of Scott’s funeral…”

“He called her I think…that night Scott called her.” You choke out. “This was my fault. Oh god, I said he needs to tell her, Dean. I was a bit tipsy and…fuck…she rejected him. I remember she told him he can’t do this to her, and Matt. Scott stormed out of the bar and wanted to drive away but I sat down in the passenger seat. I wanted to stop him, but he just pushed the car to the limit, and I saw the tree coming and then…nothing.” You sob and Dean squeezes your hand tightly.

“That was not your fault, Y/N. Scott decided to do this not you. Please don’t feel guilty.”

“You can go now, Dean. No need to stay here any longer. I know you hate hospitals.”

“I will not leave your side. Sam is talking to the doctor and when he tells us it’s okay we are going to bring you home. No discussions.” Dean states and you want to shake your head, but the pain won’t allow it.

“The last words leaving his lips were ‘it’s a cold world and we are all alone’.” You sniff.

“You’re not alone, Y/N. Please come home with me and Sammy. I’ll take care of you till you can beat the shit out of me again. I’m sorry for everything. I know I’m not good at admitting my feelings or showing emotions, but I’ve missed you so much.”

“Dean stop pretending you feel anything for me only as I’m injured. That’s not fair…”

“I ran after you that day. I was in shock and couldn’t move but then I ran after you but your car was gone. I’m an idiot and I was cold but please come back to me. You’re the best thing ever happened to me.” Dean pleas now and a single tear is rolling down his cheek.

----

Another week later the doctor let you finally leave the hospital. You tried to sneak out but Dean was already waiting outside your room to help you into a wheelchair.

“I’m going to bring you home and take care of yourself. Sammy got your car and stuff.” Dean asks.

“Was Jackie here?”

“No…” Dean whispers. His eyes tell you that Jackie and Matt blame you for Scott's death. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want to tell you…”

“They said it’s my fault – right?”

“I told them to fuck off. That wasn’t your fault, Y/N. Scott decided to drive while being drunk. You tried to stop him and got almost killed. They shouldn’t say anything like that.”

“I got drunk too, Dean.”

“I know…” Dean whispers kneeling in front of your wheelchair. He looks up at you as tears run down your cheeks. “You never drink that much, Y/N. What happened?”

“You happened. I was fine or rather I was close to moving on and then you popped up into my life once again and everything came back. I wanted to forget, and Scott suggested getting drunk.”

“See, it was his idea, not yours. Now let’s make one thing clear. This was not your fault it was Scott’s on fault.”

“Ready?” Sam asks your bag in his hands he looks down at you as you shake your head.

“I can’t come back with you, Sam. This is not my home any longer.”

“It is and I will not accept any arguments today or any other day. I will take you with me right now.” Dean mutters and Sam looks at you once again.

“Y/N?”

“I can’t walk properly right now.” You sigh. “I’m at his mercy I guess. When I’m better I can leave again.”

“You won’t leave! I will do anything. I can hug you, kiss you. How about doing this couple stuff? I got no clue what couples do but we could try to have ’brunch’ and stuff.” Dean suggests panicked you could leave.

“Brunch? Do you think I wanted to have brunch with you, Winchester? All I wanted was that you tell me I’m not a random girl, but you couldn’t give me that!”

“I was not ready! I mess up everything when it comes to women, but I want to try to make it right with you, Y/N. We could start with me telling you that you were never a random girl. I know it’s a bit late, maybe too late but you were always the most important woman in my life.” Dean stammers and you scoff.

“Sure…”

“You know I love the way you talk back and damn you are deadly with a crossbow. The explosive arrows! Holy cow I was turned on. We could blow up a thing or two…”

“Seriously? You want to blow up things with my crossbow?”

“Yeah. You looked like Lara Croft. I love her, sexy chick but you are hotter. Ass and all…”

“Dean…I would stop talking if I were you.” Sam chuckles seeing your angry expression.

“I’m not freaking Lara Croft, asshole!”

“You’re the sexy arrow firing huntress I love.” Dean blurs out and Sam’s mouth falls open. You could hear a pin fall to the ground right now. Dean is rubbing his forehead nervously as he picks you up.

“What the fuck?” You mutter as he carries you toward the exit. “Dean, let me down.”

“Not a chance. I will carry you to my car and we will talk things out. Scott was right, you know. It’s a damn cold world but we don’t need to be alone…”

To be continued…

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