#suoernatural fanfiction

[moonlight-rider25]

Winchester Girl. Chapter 1

Warnings: Rated PG13, swearing, smoking, fluff, angst

Present day, Massachusetts 11:49pm.

…"Well, aren't you two a sight for sore eyes."

You take a deep breath and swing the door open for the two towering men to slip in between. Latching it behind you, you exhale heavily and slowly turn towards them, they both stand with a solemn look on their face as they stare back at you.

"Glad to see your two smiling faces…" You say sarcastically as you cross your arms over your chest.

"...So what's the occasion, boys?"

Sam wipes his hand over his mouth and begins to stir anxiously before you. Dean keeps his eyes set on you, hands deep in his pocket with his usual stoic face resting in place.  You roll your eyes and turn towards the doorway of the small kitchen; adjacent to the living room. 

It wasn't much and it sure wasn’t fancy, but it was yours and you were proud of it. Left to you by your gran, you couldn't complain of the slightly run down two bedroom home you had once grown up in with your mom and sister. Strutting over to the fridge, you swing the door open and closed with a smack. Returning only a moment later with two beers in hand. You cautiously extend them out towards the boys and they take them without a word while you seat yourself down against the fake leather sofa. They pop the covers off, resting them on the China cabinet nearby, and take long sips; still refusing to utter a word. You peer towards the TV and grasp your vodka soda, from the side table. You take a long sip from the cracked, repurposed KFC straw facing away from them.

"..Gonna make me drink alone?" You ask coyly, still looking towards the small flat screen.

Finally you hear their footsteps approach from the back of the sofa and watch Sam ease into the old, tan, oversize recliner, somehow still making it seem small.  Leaving Dean to perch uneasily at the opposite end of the sofa by your feet.

You sip from the straw without meeting their precarious looks and clear your throat. 

"Look I got a 9 to 5 to get to in the morning, and PTA after school, can we please skip the guessing games, and get to the point?" 

Sam rubs his brow as Dean stares blankly down towards the coffee table and they stir anxiously. 

"We didn't mean to intrude, Y/N, we just need a little help on this one.." Sam finally utters apologetically.

"No shit, I assumed that much. Why else would you two lumberjacks show up unannounced at my door?" 

You state coldly reaching down towards the coffee table for your pack of L&M reds. You pluck one from the pack and toss it back on the table. You place the slim white cigarette between your lips and feel around your pants pockets for your lighter. Fishing down into the crease of the couch, only coming up with stale goldfish and matchbox cars; you sit up and reach further into the gritty couch crevice.  Finally hitting a familiar feeling with your fingertips, you peer up to spy Dean's hand extended with his shiny metal zippo lighter ready, inches from your cigarette. You reach over and puff eagerly, lighting it on the flame and peer up into his glimmer green eyes for a brief second before sitting back against the couch crossing your legs again and exhaling slowly.

"When are you gonna quit those, Y/N?..." Dean asks, snapping the lighter closed and dropping it back in his jacket pocket. 

"Oh, save it.." You say after taking another long inhale.  "...100% of non-smokers die too… especially in this line of work." 

Dean stares daggers at you as you flick the end of the cigarette into the ashtray. You boldly meet his look again, bringing the butt of the cigarette to your lips and sucking at it again.

"Vamp nest." He says coldly in his deep intimidating voice. "A big one…" He says craning his head over to eye Sammy. 

"They, uhh, apparently have been targeting young women…" Sam adds, once meeting Dean's look.

He swallows and brushes the stray hairs from his face as he stutters to get the words out.

"Where?" You ask, exhaling a vast white cloud of smoke from your mouth directly towards; Dean who grimaces.

"About a day's drive from here.." Sam answers with a nod.

You flick the ash into the ashtray beside you again and turn back towards the TV.

"..Think it can wait till tomorrow morning?" You ask with another puff thick in your throat.

It was Thursday night, you were mom free Friday after 8am to Sunday at 5pm. Sam and Dean both know and most of the time, respectfully understand this; after all, it was obviously the biggest reason you weren't as active in hunting, as you wanted to be. 

Sam remains silent, nodding in his seat after taking a long sip of his Bud Weiser.  Dean looks back towards you, and you slowly meet his eye, taking a sip from your straw.

"It'll have to be, won't it?" He says with a devilish look in his eyes.

You crack a sarcastic smile through the straw in your mouth and roll your eyes as you turn back towards the TV. 

You finish your butt and stub it out, leaning forward on the couch before getting up and making your way towards the linen closet to grab sheets, pillows, and blankets for them. You hear them mumble low in their thick deep voices, not as quietly as they probably imagine; and make sure to slam the closet door shut, signaling your return. Your arms full of bedding for them, you see Dean relaxed against the back of the couch with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. His arm outstretched against the top of the plush sofa where you had just been. They both turn towards you with curious looks on their faces.

"So, one in the recliner, one on the pullout…" you say slowly, rounding the couch. "...That or you can share the pullout…" you add through a smile, placing the bundle of blankets on the couch.

They both crack a smile and you look around trying to make sure everything is in order for them.

Dean eyes you again with a daring look; “...Sammy can’t bunk with you?” He says with a snicker.

You glare towards him with a warning look.

"Feel free to use the shower…help yourself to snacks.." You gesture towards the kitchen.

"You uhh… you got any of those little foil wrapped things? …come in a two pack?" Dean asks with a smirk.

You exhale a quiet sigh, biting back a smirk, and watch as Sam tries to hide his own smile creeping across his face.

"Pop Tarts?" You ask through a snicker.

Dean's face lightens up as he allows his smile to grow across his lips.

"Yeah! Those little devils are delicious!" He tells you, straightening up against the couch a bit.

You allow the laugh to linger in the air as you stride towards the kitchen. You reach up into the cabinet and grab the two boxes perched on the faded painted shelf; brown sugar for Sam and Chery for Dean. You swing the cabinet shut and walk back out into the living room, kicking a few action figures to the side in the process. You hold up the two foil covered packages and they both beam a smile in your direction. You toss them their pop tarts, hearing them eagerly tear into their packages as you head for the bolt lock on the front door. You fasten it and dip back into the kitchen against the doorway swatting at the light switch on the wall. You hear Dean's eager hum as he indulges into the breakfast snacks; while reaching for the metal cord on the lamp beside the couch. You grab the remote from the coffee table and toss it in Sam's lap, who's also enjoying the child's snack. 

"Don't stay up too late," you tell them, brushing your fingers through Sam's thick head of hair as you trek back towards the hall to your room. "Finns an…"

"..An early riser, I know… we know!" Dean remarks through his mouthful.

“...God, you need a haircut..” You joke towards Sam.

You walk past your doorway and stand quietly for a moment watching Finley sleep soundly, with the gentle blue hue of his dinosaur nightling on his bed stand. You pace back towards your room and quietly shut your door behind you before slipping into an old oversized tee shirt, and drop your bottoms to the floor. You plug your phone in, and place it on your nightstand before rotating the little knob on your lamp; the room growing dark. The hushed murmur from the TV in the living room, fills the air as you roll over in bed and sigh a deep exhale of relief. 

He chuckles a bit and you trail away from the two down the hall.

As much as you hate to admit it, there is a huge sense of relief knowing the two Winchester brothers sit out in your living room tonight.  Not a goddamn thing to fear; burglar, ax murderer, or the creatures that haunt most people's nightmares; would be getting very far into your house tonight. You recall a time where you spent every night with that kind of reassurance… but it had been years since then.  Regardless of how many nights alone you spent in your bed reminding yourself not to worry of things that may go bump in the night…your past had a funny way of always showing back up at your worn out New England door. Little did those tall handsome Winchester boys know that a little part of you each night was always hoping they would... 

~~~~~

The sun peeks through the faded shades as you hear the little peppering footsteps tear down the wooden hallway. You roll over in your bed peering at the alarm clock 5:12 am glows back at you. You sigh, turning back over and groaning against your pillow.

“Oh nice, he let me sleep in 12 minutes today..”

You pull the blankets up over your head and sigh again trying to shake the sleep from your head…then your heart drops into your stomach 

"Ahhhh!" 

The blood curdling scream that haunts your nightmares. You burst from your bed and rush towards the living room, completely forgetting your attire and the fact that the two Winchester boys are…were still sleeping in the living room. 

"Uncle Dean!" Finn yells, sprinting across the living room floor. 

"Finn! No!" You shout rushing towards him, but it's too late; he lands feet first in the middle of the pull out, where Dean's limp half covered body lays. Dean jumps, as Finn's body lands in the middle of him.

He grunts and coughs rolling over and sitting up, eyeing you who stands in nothing more than your old tee shirt, barely covering your butt.

"...Sorry!" You say lifting Finn off of the impressively gorgeous looking man and placing him on the floor beside you.

Sam, hearing the commotion stirs awake from his rest and tosses the blankets from his huge torso sitting up in the beaten up recliner. His bare chest and giant shoulders, glistening as he reaches over for Finn.

"Heeey, buddy!" Sam says through his sleep ridden voice.

Finn scampers over and crawls up into Sam's lap, perching himself on the large flat arm of the old tan chair. 

"Oh, jeeze, watch your feet bud…" Sam says adjusting the blankets over his lap.

You curl your lips up into a tightly pinched smirk and cover your mouth realizing how exposed you are standing with your back to Dean.

"What are you guys doing here?" Finn asks in his innocent little voice.

"Uhhhg.. were, we uhhh…" Sam stutters looking from yours and Dean's face for an answer.

Dean rolls over in his spot sitting up and batting his eyes, still not sure as to what the hell is going on around him.

"Uncle Sam and Dean are just in town on business, so they stopped by to say hello!" You lie coyly through your best mom face.

Finns face peers up at you with a slight scowl. 

"Why can't they ever visit when I'm not in school?" He asks with a frown.

"Uncle Sam and Dean's work is everyday, buddy.” You try to console the sad little face peering up at you. “They don’t get weekends and vacations like you do..." You add, turning on your feet to head towards the kitchen. You grab a pillow from Dean's bed and playfully smack him with it as you walk by. 

"Why don't you go get dressed and let Uncle Sam and Dean clean up the living room. You call over your shoulder heading towards the kitchen.

You turn the faucet on, and dump the coffee grounds from the day before.  You hear Finn's footsteps putter back up the hall and hear the groans of the men stirring. 

"You guys got about 90 seconds to make yourself decent before he's back out here…" you call from the kitchen. 

The water trickles into the dingy coffee maker and you grab the hand towel nearby, eyeing the many empty beer bottles placed on the counter..

"..We're decent.." You hear Dean argue in a slurred groan. 

"Mmmm… I'm sure.." You mumble to yourself through a smile, tossing handfuls of empties into the recycling.

They clink against each other and you hang the hand towel back up on the slim metal rack before shutting the cabinet door.

"...More decent that you are…’mommy’…" a deep growl of a voice echoes from behind you.

Spinning around, you see Dean standing in the kitchen doorway in his jeans and Grey t shirt; his hair messed a bit from sleeping. You scowl at him backing up against the kitchen sink and flash him a sarcastic smirk. 

"Sorry, I was too busy saving your.. ‘pitched tents’ from major injury…" you tell him, biting back a cackle. "...my bad!" You snicker.  

He looks you up and down leaning against the wooden doorway with a thick smirk on his face. Crossing his arms, he allows his eyes to linger up and down your long legs. You spin around choking on your laughter a bit and reach up on your toes towards the cabinets quickly realizing your oversized tee... is not over sized enough. You lower yourself back down, inching carefully towards him before standing directly between him and the small space between him and the door frame.

"...Cups are up there.." You tell him, reaching up and ruffling his bed head. “..Help yourself.." 

You mutter quickly walking behind the back of the couch by Sam who's buttoning up his flannel.

You hear Dean mutter something under his breath, as you pass by Finn in the hall who's proudly wearing a superman cape over his ninja turtle housecoat.

"Is she wearing pants?!" Sam asks surprised.

"Nah..nope.." Dean answers before he's greeted by Finn's wonderful outfit choice.

You pop a pair of loose Nike shorts on and fly back out past the couch again. Dean still propped up against the doorway of the kitchen.

"You make a better door than a window.." you tell him, slipping again between him and the wooden frame. 

He snickers but says nothing else as you reach into the freezer and pluck a couple frozen Waffles from the box. You plug the toaster in and drop them down into the metal slats before pressing down the handle.  Out in the living room you hear the giant plastic tote of action figures; crash onto the floor.

"Finn!" You sigh heavily, reaching up in the cabinets for three mugs. "You need to make sure to clean all those up before school today, hear me?" 

You grab the still dripping coffee pot and pour the mugs full. A small 'mmmhmm' coming from the living room as you wipe up the coffee splatter.  You hand Dean his brimming cup of black coffee and grab the cream from the fridge adding a dash to yours and Sam's mug. 

"Uhg, thanks..Y/N…you didn’t have to do..." Sam says with a slight smile as you hand him his mug.

You sip eagerly from your own cup and swipe your pack of cigs off the coffee table from last night, shooting him a knowing look.  He smiles and nods as you pop a cigarette between your lips and peer around the living room for the remote you tossed in Sam's lap. He nods with a grunt through his mouthful of coffee and reaches beside the recliner, handing the small black TV control to you.  

"Thanks!" 

You aim it at the small screen and flash on Finns current favorite Netflix show. You swipe the butt out of your mouth and step over towards Finn who's all too busy with ‘Thor’ at the moment. 

"Keep it down, babe. It’s still early for Uncle Sam and Dean, okay?" You tell him, pressing a kiss on the top of his golden brown hair. 

He nods and begins clashing the plastic action figure into an unwilling opponent and you pop the butt back in your mouth. You realize once again your without a lighter;

"Fuck!" You blurt out.

"That's a bad word, mommy." Finn tells you plainly.

"Yes, it is baby, I'm sorry.." You rush back towards the kitchen where Dean has moved enough out of the way of the door and light the propane stove. It ticks a few times before igniting and you crane your head down towards the flame inhaling to light your cigarette on the hot blue wave.

"Yeah…that seems safe.." Dean sarcastically remarks watching you. 

He takes a long sip of coffee and you remember the Waffles in the toaster. As if on instinct; they pop up and you grab a plastic superhero plate from the clean dish rack and plop the Waffles onto the plate. Along with a cup of apple juice and the smallest fork you can find in the utensil drawer; you place them at the table and call over to Finn for breakfast. 

Finley darts through the kitchen with Iron man and Thor battling midair.  He scoots sideways into his seat, making sure to prop them up and watch him as he eats. 

You turn towards the counter, cigarette in hand gulping back the rest of your coffee and pour another cup.

 "Mommy!" 

"Right, syrup…" 

You turn back towards the fridge and grasp onto the sticky bottle of 'real Vermont syrup' clanking it onto the table next to Finn. 

"Not too much!" You remind him as you strut back out of the kitchen. 

Dean takes a seat at the kitchen table with Finn and you hear a muffled; "Whoa buddy, that's enough..don't ya think?"

Sam folds the bedding up and meets your eye. 

"Oh, don't worry about that!" You tell him, taking a long puff. "I gotta throw it in the wash first." 

You hold the cigarette between your teeth and reach out over Dean's pull out filling your arms with the mismatched linens. Sam hesitantly hands you the 'neatly folded' sheet and you smile through your cigarette. 

"You guys hungry?" You ask as you exhale making your way up towards the hall, throwing the pile of laundry in your arms onto the floor in front of the washing machine.

"Uhhh, no were…were fine, thanks Y/N.." Sam says shyly.

"I got more poptarts." You say walking back out to the living room. 

Sam chuckles a bit, shaking his head; you both turn towards the kitchen hearing Dean's chair screech against the floor as he hears you mention 'pop tarts'. 

"Well…I'm fine.." Sam adds with a chuckle. 

You take a final long puff from your L&M and snuff it out in the ashtray. 

"Sorry Sam, I'd make you an omelet or something if I had the time.." You tell him apologetically.

You stop for a moment, crossing your arms and stare up at the tall man before you; taking in all the little details you remember…

His brown hair framing his face, his eyebrows flustered up when he talks, his little thin lips puckered as he listens to you speak, and the faint stubble trying desperately to grow in around his mouth and chin.  He's got a few more pronounced wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, but other than that all you can see is the man you once fell in love with.  

Sam's eyes dart back and forth as his smile falls away from his face then reappears again.

"It's fine, seriously Y/N..were fine."

He tries to meet your eye, showing his sincerity.

"Fine, and dandy!" Dean mutters loudly through a mouthful of pop tarts from the kitchen.

Both you and Sam laugh a bit hearing Dean in the other room. Sam clears his throat a bit and sets his mug down on the coffee table and exhales with a slight rock in his step before meeting your eyes again.

“Well you look, uh, good.. Been taking care of yourself?” he asks hesitantly, stuffing his hands down into his jeans pockets. 

You pause a moment, craning your head to the side a bit as you watch him shift uncomfortably.

“...Trying to..” You tell him with a playful scoff. 

He smiles and meets your eyes again for a moment, before shifting away quickly.  You sigh and turn your face down to the floor, spying his hands anxiously fidgeting within his pockets. You look back up holding your gaze on him for a moment.

“You don’t gotta be nervous Sam…” you tell him, shaking your head a bit. “...It's just me…”

He scoffs with a quick smirk, plucking his hands out from his pockets and planting them firmly at his waist.  Finally he sighs and meets your look, without darting in different directions. 

“You look good too, Sam. I’m glad to see it..” You add still watching him from your spot.

You sigh and shake your head a bit glancing at the clock on the wall beside the door.

"Shit!” You gasp frantically, “I gotta hop in the shower!" 

"Bad word mommy!" Finn reminds you from the kitchen.

"You're right, I'm sorry baby!" You call trailing back down the hallway.

“Help yourselves to whatever!” You call out down the hall, spinning the dial of the shower on.

~~~~

Some time later you dash back out towards the living room, your hair flung up in a towel. You pick up Finn's sticky Waffles plate and drop it into the sink before grabbing a third cup of coffee. …Or you would have, but you spy the empty pot instead.

You dump the dripping coffee grounds into the trash, and start a new pot before dashing back out to the living room for your pack of cigarettes. Finn sits on the floor in front of Dean and Sam who are both fully dressed now and sipping their coffee.

"It's fine, I'm making a new pot.." You say reaching down between the couch cushions for your lost lighter.

"Sorry…" Dean calls from behind his mug. "...didn't mean to finish it on you." 

Dean takes a long dramatic sip with a long smack at the end and Sam chuckles in his seat, clearly amused with the cartoons playing on the TV.

"Oh here.." Dean says, patting himself up searching for something in his jacket.

He extends his hand out, with his treasured vintage zippo extended towards you.

"Oh…thanks, but.." You stand before him with your finally recovered; plastic pink lighter in hand. 

You light your cigarette and pull down the towel from your head marching back off towards your bedroom. 

"Finn, try and use the bathroom before we go, please!" You shout from your room. “And change…you cant wear pjs to school!”

You slick some mascara on your lashes and dollop your armpits in some cheap ladies antiperspirant. You smear on some chapstick and brush through your hair just in time for Finn to appear at your doorway; eager and ready for the day as usual. You crouch down a bit, and plant a big sloppy kiss on his cheek before ruffling his hair into place.  

"Alright, you ready!?" You ask gleefully.

Back out towards the living room yet again you snatch Finn's lunchbox and stuff a snack pack, some knock off veggie chips, an apple, and a tiny water bottle into the black and yellow batman lunch box. 

Sam and Dean stand, looking towards you as you throw your purse over your shoulder and step into your flip flops. You help Finn with his backpack and turn back to face the two men.

"I'll be back in like 30..." You say, remembering to grab your pack of cigarettes and lighter off the coffee table.

"Y/N…do you…is there anything we can do?..." 

"No you're fine, I'll be right back!" You tell them frantically, peering down at your phone.

Sam elbows Dean, who tries to hold back the scoff, turning towards you.

"..I can take the kid.." Dean says as he clears his throat.

"...In ‘baby’!?" You ask with a snicker.

They peer out the window, then back towards each other. 

"..No, we'll be fine, don't worry about it." You tell them again.

They both sigh and you turn towards the door ushering Finn out.

"Y/N, we can help, just tell us what to do.." Sam says calmly in his reassuring tone.

The door is only ajar when you stop; sighing a deep breath before closing your eyes for a quick moment. 

"Okay, fine.. go do the…dishes or something.." You reply before shutting the door behind you.

"Dude, I don't remember her being this…this.." 

"Give her a break, Dean." Sam says with a long exhale. "She's a mom, now, and, …she's doing the best she can.."

~~~~

You bite your lip sitting at the red traffic light watching the clock tick onward in the dash. 

"Come on…Friday…you can do this.." You mumble under your breath through a deep sigh.

You dig your nails into the back of the pleather steering wheel as you sit agitated in your seat.

"Mom?" Finn asks from the back seat.

"Yeah, bud?" You reply, peering towards him in the rear view.

"...where's my homework folder?"

You roll your eyes as another deep breath courses through you.

"..probably on the kitchen floor where you left it…" You reply regrettably. 

The light finally blinks green and you roll out through the intersection. The crossing guard waves you on into the line up beside the school, and you park the car before jumping out and opening the back door for Finn. 

"It's alright, it's Friday we'll get your homework to Mrs. Barnes Monday morning, okay?" 

Finn hops out with a frown on his face. You straighten his hair once again and help him loop his arms through the straps of his backpack. You kneel down eye level to him and peer up into his bright little blue eyes.

"It's Friday!" You cheer quietly to him. 

He casts you a small, meek smile.

“Mom, can I stay with you this weekend?” Finn asks with a slight heartbreaking frown.

“No, babe, it's daddy's weekend, you know that..” You tell him apologetically.

“Just tonight then?” he pleads. “Just to say bye to Uncle Sam and Dean?”

You sigh, unable to give him an answer you or he wants to hear.

“Please?” 

You bite back your bottom lip peering up into his sad little blue eyes.

“...We’ll see them again. We always do..” you huff in a regrettable tone.

“It’s not fair!” Finn protests angrily. “Why does dad have to ruin everything!?” 

“Hey, come on…it’s not his fault…”

You stand back up pecking a kiss on top of his head and usher him down the sidewalk towards the front of the school.  

"I'll see you Sunday!" You call cheerfully, as he angrily strides towards the front door.

You stand with your arms crossed watching, making sure he disappears between the two giant blue doors before you allow your gaze to drop.

You sigh as you regrettably sulk back towards the car, recalling what you told him; ‘we’ll see them again..’  hopefully…  

You shake the thought from your head. The sun is already beating down at full force under the bright blue skies as you pluck the doors handle and seat yourself against the driver's seat.  You turn the key and flip the AC on; its cool air blasts against your face as you shift the car into reverse.  You back out and head towards the wretched red light that never allows you a free pass. You stare off into the opposite direction of traffic and wait patiently; when your phone rings. You fish around in the passenger side seat for the vibrating brick and click the green answer button.

"Hello?..."

Tags: @nancymcl @123passwort

LMK, if youd also like to be tagged in these!

[morganwrites12672]

Stanford's a Small Place

Stanford!Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: It was meant to be. She had met Sam whenever him and his father saved her from a vampire. She never thought she'd see him again. . . until he shows up in her English class.

Rating: PG-13

A/N: I love this sm 😭. Requests are open!

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Whenever she had walked into her English class, she hadn't been expecting to run into the man she thought she'd never see again. He had saved her life. After leaving a friend's house after dark turned into being kidnapped by vampires (something she hadn't thought existed), he had come to her rescue. She still remembered watching him untie the ropes around her wrist as his father fought the mysterious creatures.

She watched with wide eyes as he walked down the road of seats. She saw the shock on his face as he noticed her. He sat a few seats down, almost as if he was avoiding her. A subtle frown tugged on her lips. He had obviously recognized her. Why hadn't he chosen the empty seat next to her?

The English lecture seemed to take hours as she watched the clock anxiously. She would have to catch him as he left class. She needed to talk to him. She had been told to never tell anyone the truth about what had happened that night. And she had listened. Everyone thought it had been just another psychopath, all unaware it was actually a Supernatural creature.

As the Professor dismissed everyone, she shoved her things in her backpack and ran after Sam. God-damn. This wasn't fair. He had long legs. She struggled to catch up with him. As he walked around a corner, she managed to get close enough.

"Hey! Sam!" She called out. His steps faltered. He stopped and turned around.

"Um, hey," He said sheepishly. He took a step towards her so he could speak quietly. "I guess you remember me?"

"How could I forget you?" She replied. "I thought you. . ." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "hunted monsters. Why are you at Stanford? Are you working a case?"

Sam smiled, almost laughing. "I quit." He found it amusing, the way she had guessed. Even if how horribly telling his father where he was going still weighed on his mind.

Her eyes went wide, she was too stunned to speak for a second. She hadn't thought that was the type of thing you could quit doing. It made sense to her though. He had seemed to gentle for that type of work. Unlike his father, he was soft. Everything about him screamed comforting.

"I could show you around campus," She suggested, hoping he would agree to her offer. She wanted to hear more.

Sam smiled, "That would be great."

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It had been weeks since the two had reconnected. Now, Sam spent more time in her dorm room than his own. Every second he wasn't in class or working, he tried spending with her. They studied together, sat in the dining hall together, the two were practically inseparable.

Being around Sam was comforting. She finally had someone she could talk about that night with. She didn't have to lie anymore. He would rub reassuring circles on her knee with his thumb as she spoke. He didn't ask questions. He just listened. He held her while she cried after. He was everything she needed.

Sam loved her presence. She was someone who already knew about the Supernatural. He could tell her anything. She would play with his hair while he told her about the hunts that stuck with him. Or she would wipe his tears if he spoke about his father, and the night he had told John he was leaving for Stanford.

They were perfect for each other, even if they were just friends. For now.

It was obvious to everyone but then that the two were in love.

She was pulled out of her thoughts as Sam said her name. She quickly looked up at him. Shit. She hadn't been paying attention. It was late and she hated History. Sam was incredible at it. She didn't have his natural talent for the subject.

Sam began putting up the textbooks and other things strewn across her bed. She sat up with a yawn.

"No, it's fine. We can keep studying. The quiz is in two days," She said, though her voice was laced with sleep.

Sam smiled, "We can work on it tomorrow."

She sighed, giving up. She was exhausted. She helped Sam pick up everything they had been studying with. As he sat back on the bed, she leaned against his shoulder. The two had never discussed their relationship.

She gazed up at him. He was too pretty. With his puppy dog eyes and messy brown hair, he had won her heart. A light blush coated Sam's cheeks as he noticed her staring. She smiled in reply.

"I don't want to be your friend anymore," She said softly. "I want to be more."

She was suddenly much more awake as she spoke. It was like admitting her feelings to Sam had given her a second wind. She wanted to remember his reaction, as long as this went well. If not, she could only hope he would agree to stay friends and pretend this never happened.

"Y-you don't mean that," He said softly, his eyes holding nothing but longing. "You know how fucked up my life's been."

She pressed a finger to his lips as she quickly sat up,"Bullshit. I want you."

His eyes glanced down to her lips. A coy smile overtook her face. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek. Their lips were mere inches apart. If either one of them moved, they would kiss.

Sam gently pressed his lips to hers as an answer. He wanted her too.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[jasminesjournal]

I saw this and decided to write something…

@marunene, your fic is coming up!

[piercethefic]

Characters I'm familiar with and would write/read about: request!!

I will support you! Send me your stories, xo

American horror story characters

criminal minds characters

supernatural characters

stranger things characters (adults)

Vampire diaries characters

Shameless characters

Colby brock / sam

Lesbian / bfs / gfs

The originals - vampire diaries

The boys characters

Jake webber and Johnnie g

Ethan Landry

Others If suggested

My wattpad - witchywriteres

[wordieworld-woo]

If only I could save you

Prompt: “I’m falling for you and it's scaring the shit out of me” 

This is an unedited one-shot set in my OC-Supernatural story. Some background, this is set at the end of Season 3. My character Abbie was raised into Hunting like the boys, and was raised by Bobby after her parents never returned. This is intended to be an eventual Destiel x Oc, but is subject to being changed.

Dean x Oc angst word count: 486

“Shit,” she mumbled glaring at her coffee that was now spilt across the table. After the day she was having it just made sense for yet another thing to fuck her over. It had only been a week since she left, bag in hand ready to start a normal life; away from the chaos that was Dean though this feeling of guilt and regret was drowning her to the point she couldn't breath. Abbie would have given anything for the deal she had made to become void, anything to get back on the road with the two brothers she had left behind, or help Sam one last time on his research. But she couldn't, all because Lilith had plans that she couldn’t interfere with. 

She remembered the night she left under the pretence of an old friend in need, and how they were ready to assist in any way possible. She remembered the dread as she hugged Sam for what would be the final time until Dean's death, and the heartache that came with saying goodbye to Dean. But it wasn't like last time, there was no way out of her contract that didn't end with her being the one to send the man she loved to Hell. In spite of everything she kept close, watching over the boys and getting frequent updates from Bobby. Abbie was forced to stand by and watch as his time ticked away, as the end of his final year got closer to the point she couldn't avoid that pit in her heart. 

It was, the night before he died when she saw him in person again, saw him sleeping peacefully through the night for once. She hadn't meant to end up there with the hell-hounds on his trails, she should have kept her distance. Abbie hadn't even noticed as she pulled up in front of Bobby's house where she was. Nor did she remember going in that room. Her heart sank at the sight of him, the knowledge of what would be waiting in hell made her sick. However she couldn't leave without saying something. 

She leant down to him “I fell for you so quickly and completely,” she sighed “loving you sunk up on me Dean,” She paused the last few months sticking with her, the guilt of being away catching her off guard. “Honestly it’s scaring the shit out of me,” 

“What happens to you in Hell… know you will survive it,” 

“I’m gonna get you out, I swear.” 

Pushing some hair from out his face she kissed his cheek, unlikely to see him again she left. Refusing to look back, knowing that if she did she wouldn't have the strength to walk away again. When she returned to her car; for the first time in six years she cried. Cried for all the missed opportunities, missed chances, and for the man she had never let herself love.

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 18

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

What Can We Do?

True to his word Sam returned within the hour, you and Dean had dressed not wanting to cause him any discomfort.

As he entered the room you handed him a beer and Dean smiled.

You all spent the rest of the night drinking and telling stories of the past. Before all passing and falling asleep.

You were woken by Dean being startled out of his sleep.

You looked at him concerned “you okay?”

“Yea just a bad dream” he kissed your forehead and hugged you tight to him and you both feel asleep.

You were woken by Sam and Dean chatting.

“Dig up anything good?” Sam asked. You looked at the back of Dean's head and heard him reply “Nope.” “Well, Bobby has. Finally.” Sam smiled. “Yeah?” Dean asked. Sam nodded “Yeah. A way to find Lilith.”

“With just 30 hours to go” you yawned sitting up in the bed. “Hey, why don't we just make a TJ-run, yeah?  What's Spanish for "donkey show"? Dean laughed.

As you threw the pillow at he back of Deans head,  Sam laughed “So when we save you... Let's never do that. “

“Agreed” you chimed in.

“Spoil sports” Dean laughed jokingly.

You all stood around Bobby's table watching him try to find Lilith.

As you were talking Dean started to protest.

“Just because I have to die doesn't mean you guys have to, I can do this alone”

You scoffed at him and smirked “Yea let me see you try and stop any of us from going”

“Y/n, I'm serious”

“And so are we Dean” Sam stated. “We are done arguing, I'm summoning Ruby”

“Like hell you are” You and Dean both shouted.

“What she saved him last time” Sam argued looking at you.

“Doesn't mean I trust her” you spat back.

“Yea,  well we have no time and no option” Sam spat back.

“Oh come on Sam she said she could save me and lied and knew Lilith held my contract but failed to mention it, we are not going to make the same mistakes all over again,  find another way” and he stormed off.

“i guess we find something else “ Bobby walked off.

You stared at Sam sighed and walked off to leaving him alone.

[werewolfnick]

Almost 10 Years Writing Fanfics...

So, I just realised maybe half an hour to an hour ago, maybe just a few minutes ago, that I have been writing fanfiction for nearly 10 years... I’ve been writing fanfiction since December of 2015. So, it has been 8 years. December of 2025 will be 10 years. Yes, while it is still two years away, it’s crazy to think it has almost been that long. 

To think that I started writing fanfics about bands like Black Veil Brides and Asking Alexandria to currently about groups like BTS and EXO as well as fandoms like Teen Wolf and Stranger Things. Just to also think that I started when I was barely into my teenage years to now a twenty one year old who can legally drink, vote and drive. Because it has been nearly ten years, I feel like telling you how I got into fanfiction. I don’t know if people would be interested in this. 

So, 2014. I had just started at a new school. A private school. I had just started year 7. The previous schools I went to stopped at year seven. I believe I was very vaguely aware of fanfiction at this point, but never really engaged in or with it. I believe later in the year or the following year, some of the friends I had the time were talking about a website that I never had heard of. Quotev.com. They talked about it and how fanfiction is written on the site. They said that I should create an account on there. I didn’t want to at first because I didn’t understand the site (because this was way before I was diagnosed with autism). I was scared to try a site that I wasn’t familiar with. At this time, I was only just starting to become quite familiar with YouTube. So, I didn’t make an account on Quotev, despite those ‘friends’ semi continuously suggesting that I create an account. In the end, the 24th of October, 2015, I decided to create an account and told the ‘friends’ that I created one. Though, I did not start writing fanfiction on it until the 17th of December, 2015. At first, the fanfics I wrote on there were basically copy and paste of each other with only ever so slight differences. 

August, 2016, almost a year after creating the first account, I created a new account that I originally wanted to be a Dan and Phil fan account (the url is still dan and phill related XD). At first, I had transferred two fanfics onto there. One of Dan and one of Phil. This was years before they came out as gay (though the fanfics were not romance). But, this account, two years later, became the account that it is today. An account with fanfics of ships of idols in different kpop groups (with a big disclaimer on it that says that I do not ship them in real life, instead it is just for fanfic content). This account had fanfics that were not a copy and paste of each other and instead, fanfics with storylines and a good portion of them being inspired by something else. With these fanfics and the numbers that they reached (which I did not expect them to reach), this account became the account I became to use more often. 

In follow suit, a few more accounts were created. Two that focused on ocs and kpop idols, one that focused on ocs and characters from fandoms (like Teen Wolf, Stranger Things, Harry Potter, Supernatural, etc) and one where I created ocs for a different purpose. In the mist of all this, I created a second Wattpad account. The first one was for ships of members of bands like Asking Alexandria (again, don’t actually ship in real life). This second Wattpad account I created was for me to originally create fanfics that I didn’t write on Quotev, which only lasted so long. In the end, I decided to put my fanfics from the second Quotev account onto Wattpad to try and gain more of an audience. This audience being those who used Wattpad rather than Quotev. 

Two years after, I finally created an ao3 account for the same reason. To try and gain more of an audience for those who used ao3 rather than Quotev or Wattpad. Two months after that account was created, I created another ao3 account to write fandom ships. 

In the mist of all this, I tried to write on a site called Sweek, but that proved too difficult. So, in the end, I ended up sticking to Quotev and Wattpad (because this was before I decided to write on ao3). 

It's crazy to think that young me took on a chance on a site that she originally had no interest in just because her ‘friends’ somewhat told her too. In a way, its both a good thing but somewhat an annoying thing. Good because I get to create something for fans of the same fandom as me. Annoying because just a few years after, I moved friend groups because those original ‘friends’ were not good for me mentally (I want to clarify this, they did not bully me, I just overall felt left out in that friend group in which I was not invited to things and they would often go to class without me when I went to the bathroom. So they would be gone by the time I got back). 

So, this leads up to now, a twenty one year old who still writes fanfics when she can in the mist of going to uni, doing a major in creative writing and minor in screen arts. Will I still write fanfics when I eventually (and hopefully) publish a book? I can’t tell or know. All I can do is hope that I will, because fanfiction was/is a big part of my life.

If you made it through this entire post, thanks for making it through the ramble of me reminiscing of my fanfic journey. 

[tiktaalic]

I shouldn’t have to prove anything I say about neil gaiman I should just have to flash a card that says in 2010 I spent several months thinking suoernatural was a book because of how often it was popping up in gomens crossover fic on fanfiction dot net . and everyone should say understandable have a nice day

[immortalecstasy-blog]

Click here to view all works on AO3 Supernatural Works Only Apple Pie & Yellow Eyes - Dean/Reader ≈2,000 (AO3 / Tumblr)

*SNEAK PEAK* Inertia in Inferno - Dean/Cas Tumblr

The Man from Willow Creek – Dean/Reader ≈ 40,000 (AO3 / Tumblr)

The Man from Willow Creek: Timestamps ≈ 35,000 (AO3 / Tumblr)

After A Few – Jensen/Reader ≈ 7,000 (AO3 / Tumblr)

Spectres & Splinters – Dean/Reader ≈ 7,000 (AO3 / Tumblr)

Carry On – Script Style 15x20 Fix It (Gen) ≈ 2,500 (AO3)

Baby, Now That I’ve Found You – Dean/Human!Impala (female) ≈ 3,000 (AO3)

[fanartandfics]

Wings of Seduction Pairing: Dean x Castiel, aka Destiel Warnings: Fluff ahead Authors note: I found this screenshot on Instagram so I wanted to write a one shot of it. If any of you guys know a similar fic/one shot like this let me know cause I would love to read it ----------------------------------- "Holy fuckin' shit," Dean spits out stumbling back coving his eyes in pain. Sam mimics the action, "Son of a...!" Sam trails off. Even in immense pain he refuses to curse. Both boys stumble back and fall on their asses. Cas appears in an instant, the cries of pain summoning him. Sparks of the street lights rain down illuminating the shadows of his wings. Cas kneels down to assess the damage gently prying Dean's hands off his face. Dean scrunches his eyes tighter, afraid of the pain if he opens them. "Dean, let me see," Cas waits patiently, he glances at Sam who is in the same state as Dean. Dean opens his eyes and his irises glow like fire. Cas grabs Sam and checks his eyes, sure enough they're glowing too. "Woah," Sam says in awe. He's looking at Cas, but instead of seeing the shadow of a wing like he usually does he can actually see Cas's wings. "Dean, look at Cas," Sam nudges his brother. Dean rubs his eyes and looks at Cas. His wings are huge! Long and black, silky like the ballet dancer in Black Swan. They're graceful even without movement. Dean is still on the ground looking up at Cas while Sam stands up. Cas looks quizzicality down at Dean, not sure what either boys are looking at. "What happened?" Cas asks. "We burned our eyes with holy fire," Sam explains, looking to Dean for backup, but Dean is still transfixed on Cas's elegant wings. "You're lucky you still have eyes. You could have been seriously hurt." Cas explains like a concerned father to Sam. Sam nods agreeing and follows Cas's gaze down to Dean who is still in shock. "You're wings" Dean stands up hand out stretched, "they're awesome." Dean slowly and carefully runs a finger down a feather near the bottom of Cas's wing, grinning. Cas follows the movement with his eyes standing still. "You can see them?" Cas looks to Sam and Dean a little worried. "I guess the holy fire gave us the ability to," Sam shrugs not seeing a downside, "Now we can see hell hounds without glasses." A few weeks have past and the effects of the holy fire haven't worn off. Cas's wings are on full display at all times, at first it was hard to get used to, but now it was normal to brush by the polished black wings. Sam did notice one thing however, Cas's wings would spread wide when ever he was near Dean, encompassing them in a cocoon of velvety black. Dean didn't really notice, it felt natural. Sam would notice as he read books in the library. He would look up over what ever book he was reading and see Cas's wings slowly stretching out, barley brushing Dean's shoulder. Sam sat next to Cas a couple of times during dinner and research and noticed he didn't do that around him. Sam pulls Dean aside, curious as to why, "Hey, Dean, have you noticed that Cas's wings are always stretched out whenever he's around you?" "He does?" Dean asks confused, "doesn't he do that for everyone?" "No, he only does it when he's around you," "Hmm," Dean puts his hands in his jacket pocket and looks over at Cas, "I'll ask him." Dean boldly walks over to Cas and sits next to him. "So, Cas, why the wing tent?" Dean asks point blank. Cas looks taken back and blushes, "Just stretching them out," he tries to shrug casually and brush off the comment. Dean looks to Sam seeing what he thinks of the answer. Sam shrugs and shakes his head, he's not buying it and neither is Dean. Neither mention it again, until Sam is reading up on nephilim."Nephilim are a creature that is half angel, half human. When an angel finds a potential human partner they spread their wings in order to seduce the human." Sam couldn't believe what he just read. He flips the page and continues reading. "Angels have no control over this action." Sam can't control his grin as he book marks the page and runs into the kitchen where Cas and Dean are chatting while Dean eats lunch. Dean looks up and Cas turns around to see Sam with a know-it-all look on his face, "Hi ya, Sammy. What d' you got?" Dean gestures with his head toward the book in Sam's hand. Sam launches into his findings, "So get this; just read a little something about angels. Apparently they have no control over their wings and they spread them wide when they are attracted to a human because it's their way of seducing them." Sam says all in one breadth. Dean spits out his coffee, coughing, and Cas hides his face in shame. "Just thought you should know," Sam smiles walking out of the kitchen. Dean turns his attention back to Cas and gently pries Cas's hand from his face and waits patiently for Cas to meet his gaze. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Cas. I don't mind you trying to seduce me,"Dean says with a wink. Cas blushes even deeper and his wings spread a little wider.

[gabrielwolfus]

Un tema che amo molto trattare nei miei libri è il Bromance, un neologismo che viene dall’unione delle parole “bro”, diminutivo affettuoso di fratello per indicare un amico particolarmente intimo, e “romance”, che significa romanticismo, inteso come sinergia dei sentimenti. Un legame naturale, forte, intenso, nobile e bellissimo che nel passato era riconosciuto ed accettato e che oggi, finalmente, ora che il mondo comincia ad incamminarsi verso un’era nuova in cui i sentimenti umani non sono più vincolati dalle convenzioni sociali, sta tornando prepotentemente alla ribalta…perché, in fondo, non è mai sparito davvero. Il bromance fa parte delle naturali interazioni umane, da sempre, ed il modo in cui si esprime è irrilevante, perché non c’è moto sincero del cuore che non abbia in sé una nobiltà intrinseca che nemmeno la violenza più cieca ed efferata potrà mai negare fino ad estinguerlo. E debbo confessare che le fanfiction sui fratelli Winchester di Supernatural mi hanno fornito spunti interessanti... #bromance #amorefraterno #fratelli #amorepuro #amoretotale #amorenobile #amore #sentimentovero #sentimentisinceri #sentimentiribelli #sentimentiforti #sentimentitrattenuti #sentimentiforti #forzadeisentimenti #umani #motidelcuore #fratellanza #fanfiction #suoernatural #winchesterbrothers #winchesterbros #fratelliwinchester https://www.instagram.com/p/CWeaOwzoWPI/?utm_medium=tumblr

[thesetacostastefunny]

4 years later

@lizwinchester16  Here ya go! Also! This is season 2 Jensen in the beginning! Leave comments, or inbox me for requests! 

“I just can’t do this anymore!” You cried. “I’m sorry Jensen, but I can’t.” You looked up seeing the tears welled in his green eyes. You bit your lip knowing you had to be strong. This was incredibly hard for you, but with him constantly gone in Vancouver was hard and strenuous. You got to see your friends going on dates, having couples game nights and all you had was season 1 reruns of Supernatural.

“Please Y/N don’t do this.” He spoke voice rough.

“Jensen, I can’t!” You yell turning around. “Do you even realize how hard this is on me?! Being alone while you are playing Hunter in Vancouver?! I have to be here and pretend like I’m fine, like this long-distance relationship isn’t killing me.”

“Killing you?! You act like this is easy for me! I’m forced to be away for months missing you like crazy Y/N! I am constantly thinking about you, and when I have free time I’m talking about you! Ask Jared!”

“Don’t you pull that ask Jared stuff on me! I have to go!” You cried as you grabbed your bag scrambling to get out the door.

“Please Y/N.”

“I’m sorry Jensen.” You said hand on the door knob not looking back. Jensen just stood there in shock. He made his way into the kitchen, he threw open the refrigerator, and grabbed a beer. He popped it open and chugged it down needing to numb the pain. Jensen stuffed his hand in his pocket and placed the velvet box onto the counter.

“What am I going to do with you now?” He asked to himself staring at the little box before turning around to grab another beer.

~ 4 years later~

“Mommy! Wook!” You laughed as your son pointed out a batman toy he wanted.

“You will get it Brayden, if you are a good boy. That was the deal remember?”

“I’ll be good.” He pouted staring up at you with his big green eyes. For a moment you were taken back to that night. The night you left his father. You couldn’t deal with Jensen being away for months, because you were pregnant. He would have been gone for a good chunk of your pregnancy. Your son had asked about his father, and you had shown him who he was, letting him see his dad on the tv. He didn’t understand much of what was going on in the show anyway in his three-year-old mind.

“Wook mommy! It’s dad!” Brayden replied peering around you. Your eyes widened as you looked around. Sure enough, he was there throwing some food into his cart. You hadn’t spoken to him since that day, you made to run and hide when he looked up spotting you instantly.

“Y/N? Y/N!”  He called abandoning his cart for the time being to jog over to you.

“Oh, Hey Jensen.” You smiled politely.

“Hi, how have you been?”

“Good, I’ve been good.” You nod ruffling Brayden’s hair as he reached for you.

“That’s great! Uh, listen, I think I understand why you…”

“Mommy pwease hold me!” Brayden butted in. You watched Jensen’s face turn from shock to curiosity as he regarded the small boy now smiling happily in your arms.

“Jensen, this is Brayden.” You said, and that’s when Jensen noticed it, the lips, eyes, the color of his hair.

“Hi dad!” He beamed reaching out for Jensen and that’s when your smile fell.

“Dad? Y/N…”

“It’s true.” You muttered nodding. His expressions went from dumb-struck, to happiness, to anger, and then back to happiness.

“Hi buddy, how about you talk your mom into letting me take you all out for ice-cream?”

“Ice-cweam!”

“Jensen, that won’t be necessary…” You began when he cut you off, tone allowing no room for argument.

“Oh, it’s necessary, we need to talk…”

[mayflowersaprilshowers22]

Crowley x Reader x Cas Series Masterlist

Chapter One: An Unexpected Guest

Chapter Two: A Big Misunderstanding

Chapter Three (part one): Get Well Soon

Chapter Three (part two): Get Well Soon

Chapter Four: Alone Together - Indefinite Hiatus

[luciisthebest]

It's Good To Be Queen

Pairing: Former Dean x Reader (Demon!Reader)

Summary: It’s good to be queen. That is, until the Winchesters keep interfering.

Warnings: ANGST, this is super dark, several major character deaths, somewhat graphic deaths, mentions of blood (lots of blood), language, slight descriptions of wounds, just lots of violence and death. 

Word Count: 1461

A/N: This is super dark, like I'm not sure where this came from  I guess I wanted to come back with a bang. Please head the warnings this is dark and twisted and not your typical fic. But yeah I'd say enjoy but probably not, but hey feedback is always welcome.

You never thought being queen would be fun. And yet as you sat on your throne and looked upon your domain you felt completely at home.

When you had sold your soul, it had been to save one of those stupid Winchester brothers. At the time you had fancied yourself in love with Dean, but it was all a lie. You had died and he had moved on with his life. After earning your black eyes, you had quickly moved through the ranks of demons until you were the right hand to the King. That was when things became fun. Crowley was a weak king, he allowed his subjects to run rampant while he traipsed about with the Winchesters. But his biggest mistake was trusting you. You were the one that plunged an angel blade into his back and laughed as his empty meat suit fell to the ground. The demons had watched in fear and awe as you stepped over his cold body and ascended the throne. Since that day you had ruled Hell with a steel fist. Your subjects feared and respected you and Hell was once again at its full glory.

All was right with the world, well except the Winchester brothers. Once they’d found out Crowley was dead they’d made it their mission to find out who was responsible. So far they hadn’t figured it out, they knew there was a new queen in power but your identity remained hidden. Even though you remained safe, something needed to be done about them. They were killing off some of your best demons and there were whispers that perhaps you weren’t as competent as was first perceived. It was now or never. Taking out the Winchesters would solidify your claim up on the throne. All you had to do was come up with a perfect trap, a trap that even the Winchesters couldn’t escape. If anybody could come up with one it was you. Every dark secret, every fear you were privy to. You knew everything about the Winchesters, and you were going to destroy them. 

A storm was brewing. Lightening split the clouds and thunder rumbled in the distance. Your trap had been set and now you were just waiting. You smiled at your reflection, you had done quite well. You actually looked like you did before you died. So pure, so sweet. Dressed in all white you appeared almost angelic, that was until you flashed your black eyes. Hopefully this image you had created would throw the boys off and give you the upper hand. Currently, you were in an abandoned motel in an rundown town. You had pulled in a few favors and now to the hunting world this motel was haunted by an extremely dangerous ghost. And who better to take care of such a thing than the Winchesters. You knew they were on their and would be arriving soon. Everything was going as planned and this time, you were going to win.

The stage was set, now all you needed was the players. Standing up slowly, you took one last glance at the mirror and then you left the room. Gliding down the stairs you made your way into the front office. This is where it was going to happen. Either you would be victorious or dead. Looking out the window, you watched as the storm drew closer. It was so full of power and danger. The lightening crackled and the thunder shook the building, it was almost as if the heavens knew what was coming.

As you were watching the storm, you heard the front door creak open, it was time. Now was the time for you to play your part. “You’re finally here…” you whispered, filling your voice with pain and sorrow. The footsteps that you had heard approaching halted, waiting to see what would happen next. “I’ve been waiting but you never came.” You begin to walk quietly towards the main hallway knowing they would be somewhere near there. Standing in the open doorway you delivered your line. “Sam…. Dean… I waited. And you left me here.” As you said this you stepped into the hall revealing your presence. The moment the boys realized who you were shock and pain filled their faces. Everything was going perfectly.

“(Y/n)?” Dean’s green eyes were filled with sorrow.

“Dean.” You tried to smile but your eyes remained cold and angry. “Was it worth it? Did you use the life I sold my soul for well?” Dean flinched at your words.

Turning to Sam you opened your arms up to him. “What you’re not going to give me a hug Sam?” Sam didn’t move. “Oh come on, I didn’t really hurt anybody. I just started rumors in hopes that you guys would finally come to me. I need closure, I can’t keep existing like this. I was supposed to go to Hell but I somehow ended up a spirit. I need to move on.” You paused looking back and forth between Sam and Dean. ���Please.” You pleaded.

Opening your arms again, you gave a small sigh of relief as Sam began to move towards you. When he finally stood in front of you, he reached out and pulled you into his arms. “Thank you Sam.” You whispered in his ear. “You don’t deserve this but it has to be done.” With a snap of you fingers, an angel blade appeared in your hand. With as much force you as you could muster, you plunged the knife into his back, severing his spinal cord. Pulling the knife out, you let go of him, allowing him to fall to the ground. You had granted him a swift death, with a soft gurgle and one last breath he was gone.

“No! Sam!” Tears were in Dean eyes as he rushed forward. With a wave of your hand you sent him flying up against the wall. Now it was time for the fun part; slowly stepping over Sam’s body you walked up to Dean. Getting close to his face you allowed your black eyes to show and you laughed cruelly as understanding crossed Dean’s face. “Poor Sammy. He never even knew what was coming.”

“You bitch.” Dean spit in your face and tried to struggle against your hold.

You just laughed, there was no escape. “Oh Dean, I knew the best way to fuck with you was to make you watch poor little Sammy die. I granted him a swift death though, I actually kind of liked him.” You paused glancing over at Sam’s body. “But you, I hate you. You’re the reason I went to Hell, but I guess I should thank you considering I’m now the Queen.” You kissed him on the cheek. “But don’t worry, you’ll be joining Sammy soon.” You cooed softly in his ear. “But first we need an audience, executions are never fun without an audience.” You clapped you hands in glee. Snapping your fingers, several demons appeared in the hall. These demons would be your witnesses and your pawns to make sure every demon in Hell knew of this moment. “Ah yes much better. Now where were we?” You gently grazed Dean’s chin with your blade.

Dean’s eyes were angry and cold. “You know we'll just come back. And when we do your dead.” Venom drilled from every word.

Pulling the blade away from him, you pretended to be surprised. “Oh wait. Did I forget to tell you?” You looked around perplexed. “You aren’t coming back. You’re going straight to Hell, and you’re never coning back. A deal made in blood has been made. It can not be broken or changed. You are going to die by my hand and then you will be tortured for all eternity.” You gently caressed his cheek as horror filled his eyes. “Well let’s get this over with.” Gently tracing the outline of Dean's jaw you allowed the blade to rest at his throat, with the flick of your wrist you slashed Dean’s throat. Blood sprayed everywhere and you laughed as it rained down upon you. Leaning close, you placed a kiss upon Dean’s lips. “I’ll see you soon my love.” You whispered as the light went out of his eyes. Sam and Dean Winchester were dead and gone forever and your claim to the throne was forever solidified.

Turning around you faced your subjects, Dean’s blood soaked your white frock and lightening flashed behind you. You looked every inch the Queen of Hell that you were.

“All hail the Queen of Hell. May she rule until the end of time.” A demon proclaimed as all the demons in the hall fell to their knees and basked in your glory. It was good to be queen.

Tags:

@mogaruke @msimpala67 @percussiongirl2017 @tomorraw @meganwinchester1999 @ria132love @lucifer-in-leather @impala-dreamer @idreamofhazel @wayward-mirage @helvonasche @quiverhope

[slashandburnpod]

Ep 51 - Literal Sugardaddies - Coffee Shop AU

This time on Slash and Burn, Steve's eternal nightmare.

Join us as hosts Kera, the fanfiction veteran, and Steve, the lovable noob, read and discuss fanfic from the tag of coffee shop AU! We have fic from fandoms such as Les Mis, Attack on Titan, Supernatural, and more.

As always, there is explicit content not meant for most adults, let alone children. You've been warned.

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Supernatural - UPADEK

Rozdział szósty - W samo południe

47.

Dean wyszedł na ganek. Deszcz nadal zacinał uporczywie, wdzierał się pod zadaszenie i rozpryskiwał na deskach. Dean poczuł go na twarzy. Zimy jak jego wnętrze. W uszach mu dzwoniło, ledwie słyszał bębnienie kropli i szum wiatru. Mokry świat był na zewnątrz, a Dean znajdował się w środku. W zimnym, pustym środku, w próżni i bezczasie.

Bobby miał w torbie zawiniątko z grubego płótna w kolorze khaki, a w zawiniątku spoczywały dwie strzykawki wypełnione morfiną. Pomogły – na jakiś czas. Sam uspokoił się i zaczął nawet przekonywać Deana, że wszystko będzie dobrze. O świcie spróbują zejść ze wzgórz i znajdą jakiś transport. Leżąc bezwładnie na zarwanej, cuchnącej sofie, uśmiechał się do starszego brata poczerniałymi, popękanymi wargami, z których sączyła się ciemna krew. Jego oczy przypominały oczy demona z rozstajów, rysy twarzy, wyostrzone bólem, wyglądały upiornie.

Około północy Bobby naciągnął na oczy daszek bejsbolówki i ruszył na poszukiwanie pomocy. Burza nadal szalała nad wzgórzami, ale Bobby powiedział, że sobie poradzi.

– Nie ma na co czekać – rzucił z progu.

Oczywiście miał rację. Sam... Sam nie miał szans na to, by doczekać do rana.

Rozmawiali cicho, a przynajmniej Dean mówił coś, pozwalając Samowi wtrącić słowo, czy dwa. Sam zmęczył się szybko i zapadł w niespokojny sen. Dean miał wrażenie, że jego własna skóra jest za ciasna, że rozerwie się na strzępy. Próbował ocucić Castiela, najpierw delikatnie, potem brutalnie, przeklinając szeptem. Próbował się modlić. Kiepsko mu szło, gdyż zazwyczaj jego modlitwy skierowane były właśnie do Castiela, a tym razem nie mógł na niego liczyć. „Jeśli istniejesz” i „błagam, pomóż” paliły go w usta. Gdyby Bóg słuchał, nie doszłoby w ogóle do całej tej sytuacji. Wzywał Salaphiel. A potem wszystkie anioły, które zechciałyby go wysłuchać. Wzywał Asmodeusza i jego córkę Avarice. Wzywał Crowley'a. Błagał o pomoc Fenrira i Hellię. Nikt nie odpowiedział. Czuł się jak owad nakryty szklanką; krążył bezradnie po ciasnym więzieniu, ze świadomością, że na zewnątrz jest świat, wolność, powietrze, życie. Wołał, ale nikt nie słyszał jego głosu. Jego ręce aż rwały się, żeby złapać jakiś przedmiot i cisnąć nim o podłogę, żeby rozkrwawić sobie kłykcie o ściany, żeby zniszczyć coś tak, jak on był niszczony. Przeszedł przez piekło i niebo, zrobił rzeczy, jakich nigdy nie spodziewałby się zrobić, toczył bitwy, na które nie miał sił, a które musiał wygrać, a mimo to znajdował się dokładnie w punkcie wyjścia. Jakiś cholerny żart, jak stara, komputerowa strzelanka, w której rozwalasz wszystkie zombie po to tylko, by znów wylądować na linii startu.

To było nie w porządku. To było tak cholernie nie w porządku, że poczuł, jak drżą mu wargi, a łzy rozmazują półmrok pomieszczenia. Odwrócił się od Sama, powlókł w kąt izby i oparł czoło o ścianę. Pozwolił płynąć łzom. I tak nikt go nie widział. Pozwolił sobie na jęk. I tak nikt go nie słyszał.

Nie wystarczało. Coś w jego środku napierało na żebra, rozpychało się w żołądku, próbowało wyjść z wnętrza ciała. Bolało go od środka, bolało tak bardzo, że tylko zewnętrzny ból mógł mu przynieść jakąkolwiek ulgę. Uderzył pięścią w ścianę tuż obok własnej twarzy, ale bał się, że hałas znów obudzi Sama. Zaczął więc pocierać kłykciami surowe deski. Coraz mocniej i mocniej, aż skóra zdarła się, a pięści zaczęły pozostawiać na ścianie smugi krwi. Zadrapał deski paznokciami przyjmując wbijające się pod nie drzazgi jak błogosławieństwo. Dopiero wtedy to coś w jego wnętrzu przycichło, wycofało się, ciężkie i lodowate.

Sam ocknął się i wyszeptał jego imię, więc Dean usiadł obok niego na skraju sofy.

- Bobby poszedł po pomoc - powiedział.

- W taki deszcz? - zachrypiał Sam.

- Nie jest z cukru - skwitował Dean, powstrzymując krzyk. - Jak się czujesz?

- Lepiej - skłamał natychmiast Sam. - A ty? Z tobą wszystko... w porządku?

- Mhm.

- Cas?

- Nic mu nie będzie.

- Dean... - Sam wpatrywał się w jego twarz z gorączkową uporczywością. - Zrobiliśmy to.

- Pewnie, młody.

- Nie... naprawdę... zrobiliśmy to...

- Wiem.

- Dean, dziękuję.

- Za co?

- Za... - Sam zamrugał powoli, osuszając poczerniałe od wynaczynionej krwi oczy. - Za wszystko.

- Nie bierz mnie pod włos - parsknął Dean.

- Nie, Dean, serio - powiedział Sam. - Ja... Ja przepraszałem cię... tyle razy... i tak, powinienem... powinienem przepraszać, bo... za... za wszystkie te... za te rzeczy...

- Sam, przestań - powiedział Dean bardzo głucho.

- Ale powinienem... powinienem ci podziękować - mówił dalej Sam. - Za to... za to, że... jesteś takim... zarąbistym bratem.

Uśmiechnął się drżącymi, popękanymi wargami. W tym uśmiechu nie było światła. To nie był żart, tylko pożegnanie. Dean nie był na nie gotowy. Potrząsnął głową.

- Pewnie, że jestem - powiedział cicho. - Pewnie, że jestem zarąbisty. Nigdy o tym nie zapominaj.

Sam poruszył leciutko głową, jakby chciał zapewnić, że nie zapomni. Dean zobaczył, jak kosmyki jego włosów kruszą się, opadają na oparcie kanapy niczym popiół. Ostrożnie dotknął ręki Sama. Pod palcami wyczuł warstewkę czegoś, co przypominało sadzę. Gładkie, niczym puder rozprowadzony w tłuszczu, martwe i ciemne. Czekała ich czerń, wszystko miało skończyć się w czerni.

- Dean - wymamrotał Sam. - Musisz... Musisz... znaleźć tatę...

Dean poderwał głowę. Oczy Sama przymykały się, ale patrzył z uporem w twarz brata.

- Sammy, to nie... - Dean przełknął sucho. - Tata nie...

- I mamę... - szepnął Sam. - Kiedyś... I musisz... musisz powiedzieć im... że próbowałem... że... ich...

Zamknął oczy i westchnął cicho.

Więcej się już nie odezwał.

Dean posiedział przy nim przez jakiś czas, czekając na cud, który nie miał nastąpić. Czekał na kolejne słowo. Na kolejny oddech. Na uderzenie serca. Potem pokiwał głową i otarł oczy opuszkami palców. Wewnętrzny ból, który wcześniej próbował rozerwać go na strzępy, ucichł, zamienił się w pustkę. Stał się dziurą, do której wszystko spływało, pozostawiając go pustym i zmarzniętym. Podniósł się z trudem, jak stary człowiek, opierając ręce nad kolanami i powoli prostując grzbiet. Ogarnął wzrokiem izbę, wciąż nieprzytomnego Castiela i martwego Sama, a potem poszedł powoli ku drzwiom.

Na ganku Dean oparł przedramiona o nadgniłą balustradę tarasu. Splótł palce i skulił ramiona. Deszcz kapał mu za kołnierz i spływał po kłykciach, spłukując z nich krew. Zaczynało się przejaśniać. Na wschodzie niebo nabierało łososiowego odcienia świtu. Od lasu biło bogatym zapachem igliwia, mokrej kory i liści. Deszcz przechodził w mżawkę i wśród konarów odzywały się ptaki.

- Napijesz się?

Dean powoli obrócił głowę. Oderwał ręce od balustrady i wyprostował się, równie wolno. Demon stał po przeciwnej stronie ganku, w cieniu, tam gdzie dach chatki myśliwskiej załamał się pod cięzarem zaspy sosnowych igieł i kęp mchu. Wyciągnął przed siebie rękę. Dean nie zareagował. Nie sięgnął po pistolet ani po nóż. Patrzył tylko na demona pustym wzrokiem.

– Trzydziestotrzyletnia Glendronach - powiedział demon. W wyciągniętej dłoni trzymał kryształową szklaneczkę. - Wiem, że już jej smakowałeś.

- Asmodeusz - powiedział Dean. Zrobił pół kroku naprzód, ale druga ręka demona, trzymająca hebanową laskę ze srebrną gałką, uniosła się, a na pierś Winchestera naparła niewidoczna ściana.

- Nie przyszedłem tu, żeby walczyć - oznajmił Asmodeusz.

- Po co, w takim razie, przyszedłeś?

- Mam zobowiązania. - Demon ostrożnie odstawił szklaneczkę na balustradę. Wysunął się z cienia i podszedł odrobinę bliżej podpierając się na lasce. Utykał lekko. Miał na sobie sztuczkowe spodnie, opadające na  wypolerowane buty, bordową kamizelkę i elegancki czarny stroller. Z kieszonki kamizelki zwieszała się srebrna dewizka. Był przystojny. Odrobinę przypominał młodego Johna Winchestera, sylwetką, barwą włosów, zarysem szczęki. Dean przyjął to obojętnie. Czarna dziura w jego wnętrzu wciąż zasysała wszelkie emocje.

- Jak cholera masz zobowiązania - powiedział zimno. - Wzywałem cię.

- Słyszałem.

Dean otworzył usta, próbował coś powiedzieć, ale wykrzywił tylko wargi. Głęboko wciągnął powietrze.

- Słyszałeś - powtórzył.

- Wiem, że to nie było łatwe - oznajmił demon. - Ale było konieczne. To, przez co ty i twój brat musieliście przejść. Avarice chciała, żebym ci o tym powiedział. Przykro mi.

Dean pokiwał głową. Nie odrywał spojrzenia od twarzy Asmodeusza.

- Przykro ci - powiedział głucho. - Tobie jest przykro.

- Nie z powodu śmierci Sama - rzucił demon. - Ta była konieczna. Żałuję, że to musiało się stać w taki sposób. Przykro mi, że musiałeś być tego świadkiem. To z pewnością było bardzo traumatyczne przeżycie.

- Ale... - dodał z nagłym uśmiechem - ... wam, chłopcy, zawsze jakoś się udaje się pozbierać.

Dean na moment przymknął powieki. W ułamku sekundy zyskał pewność, że zamorduje Asmodeusza. Może nie w tej chwili, ale kiedyś. Wytropi go, dopadnie i zabije.

Uśmiech na twarzy demona przygasł.

- Czemu tak na serio? - zacytował Jokera. - Przecież mówię, że mam zobowiązania. Kontrakt.

A więc Sam skłamał. A więc był jakiś kontrakt. Dean nawet się tego spodziewał. Niczego to już nie zmieniało.

- Sam nie kłamał - oznajmił Asmodeusz, jakby czytając mu w myślach. - Nasz kontrakt nie przypominał zwyczajowego cyrografu. Ja nie jestem demonem z rozstajów, a Sam nigdy nie wyraziłby zgody na całusa. A jednak kontrakt był konieczny. Widzisz, nasza moc bierze się głównie z paliwa, jaką są potępione dusze, ale kontrakt może być prawdziwym dopalaczem. Plus, istnieje cała masa ograniczeń, zakazów i kruczków. Cała ta biurokracja. Nie chce mi się nad tym rozwodzić.

Oparł się na lasce i sięgnął po szklaneczkę z whisky. Dean mógłby w tej chwili rzucić się na niego i spróbować przyszpilić go nożem na demony. Nie zrobił tego. Był zmęczony i pusty.

- Nasz kontrakt... - powiedział Asmodeusz. - Mój kontrakt pozostawał otwarty. Aż do teraz. To jest umowa dwustronnie obowiązująca, losowa, a zawarliśmy ją z Samem nie na piśmie, czy choćby werbalnie, lecz raczej per facta concludentia 1, w obliczu wyższej  konieczności. W ramach tej umowy Sam otrzymał ode mnie fragment Słowa Stworzenia i tron piekła. Jego zadaniem było... zasadniczo uratowanie mojego tyłka przed Samaelem. W zamian za ocalenie mojego życia, ja miałem ocalić życie Sama.

- Gratulacje - warknął Dean. - Świetnie ci się to udało.

- Rzecz w tym, że nie mogłem go ocalić - ciągnął demon. - Twój brat był w bardzo ciężkim stanie już wtedy, przy naszym pierwszym spotkaniu. Dusza w strzępach, zawodzące ciało. Zaoferowałem mu fragment Słowa, dzięki czemu Sam odzyskał tymczasową równowagę. Ostatecznie jednak Słowo musiało go zabić. Nie istniało inne wyjście z tej sytuacji. Najważniejsze było, aby wpierw zabiło, lub choćby pokonało Samaela.

- Najważniejsze - gardłowo przyznał Dean. Jego ręka powoli zaczęła wędrować ku wewnętrznej kieszeni kurtki, do noża.

- A teraz clou programu. - Asmodeusz zasalutował mu szklaneczką. - Przypieczętowanie umowy. W skrócie mówiąc, aby pozyskać optymalną moc należy postawić na szali coś, co ma wielką wartość. Zazwyczaj jest to ludzka dusza. Jednakże ja takowej nie posiadam, a dusza Sama była rozbita. Kiedy jednak na szali położy się poświęcenie, szczególnie poświęcenie ostateczne... nie ma rzeczy niemożliwych. Sam musiał umrzeć, anioły musiały zamknąć niebo, a ja musiałem przejąć duszę twojego brata, w czym bardzo pomogły mi jatki, jakie obecnie rozgrywają się w piekle. Wykonałem kawał bardzo dobrej roboty wiążąc wszystkie te nitki, ustawiając klocki domina, i należą mi się gratulacje. A teraz chodźmy ożywić Sama.

Dłoń Deana zamarła. Zacisnął zęby aż pod skórą zaznaczyły się zaczepy jego szczęk. Asmodeusz obrzucił go niewinnym spojrzeniem jasno-niebieskich oczu.

- To jest najważniejszy punkt kontraktu - powiedział spokojnie. - To jest oś, która to wszystko spaja. Bez niej wszystko pójdzie na marne. Nie robię tego z dobroci serca - chociaż całkiem polubiłem Samuela. Mam obowiązki.

Utykając skierował się do drzwi wejściowych. Dean dokończył ruch i wyjął nóż z kieszeni. Podążył za demonem, ściskając rękojeść w drżącej dłoni.

Asmodeusz skrzywił się na powiew pleśni i rozkładu, jakim powitało ich wnętrze chatki myśliwskiej. Bez wahania podszedł do sofy, odstawił na stolik niemal już opróżnioną szklaneczkę i pochylił się nad ciałem Sama. Przesunął wzrokiem po jego zapadniętej, pokrytej czarnymi plamami twarzy, po spękanych ustach i włosach rozsypujących się w popiół.

- Uch. Mówiłem już, że mi przykro? - rzucił, zerkając na Deana.

- Chwileczkę. - Dean uniósł lekko rękę. - Możesz to zrobić?

- Mogę. W tej chwili nawet muszę.

- Jakie będą konsekwencje? - Dean nienawidził tego słowa, ale musiał je wypowiedzieć. - Co się z nim stanie? Będzie... będzie taki, jak przedtem? Zanim ty się zjawiłeś? Jego... jego dusza...

- Jego dusza to dzieło sztuki. - Asmodeusz posłał Deanowi nieco cyniczny uśmieszek. - I w innych okolicznościach z całą pewnością bym ją sobie zatrzymał. Słyszałeś kiedyś o kintsugi? To taka japońska sztuka naprawy starych skorup za pomocą złota. Ściślej mówiąc, laki i złota. Stare skorupy stają się po czymś takim małymi dziełami sztuki, a dusza Sama... cóż, spaja ją Słowo Stworzenia. Nieaktywne, przynajmniej przez najbliższych parę stuleci, ale jednak Słowo. Wiesz, jak to podbija wartość?

- Nie o to pytałem.

- Jego dusza jest załatana - powiedział Asmodeusz. - Powinna sprawować się całkiem nieźle. Może nawet lepiej niż przedtem.

- A czego ty chcesz w zamian? - spytał Dean.

- Nie słuchałeś mnie, czy co? - zirytował się demon. - Ja już dostałem moje "w zamian". Pozbyłem się Samaela i tego przeklętego okruszka boskości, na który się połaszczyłem. Ukradłem to cholerstwo i przez wieki, przez tysiąclecia, czułem jak mnie pali. Jak mnie zmienia. Stałem się kimś innym i... nawet tego nie żałuję, ale teraz wreszcie mogę to zakończyć. Więc, nie. Nie ma już żadnego "w zamian". Wypełnię kontrakt i wracam do własnego życia. Nie zapisuj mojego numeru w komórce. Oczekuję, że nie będziecie mnie szukać.

Pochylił się nad Samem.

- Zaczekaj - wyrzucił Dean.

- Nie wierzę, że to powiedziałeś - jęknął Asmodeusz.

- Za każdym razem... - Dean walczył z opornymi słowami. - Za każdym razem, kiedy to robimy... Zawsze zanurzamy się głębiej. I nie tylko my. To nie dotyczy tylko nas. Poszedłem do piekła, żeby Sam wrócił do życia. Sam postanowił się zemścić i uwolnił z Klatki Lucyfera. Cas go wydostał, a ja wepchnąłem mu duszę i... Znaleźliśmy się tutaj. Czy możesz mi zaręczyć, że nie wpadniemy w jeszcze głębsze szambo?

- Znając was, absolutnie nie mogę tego zrobić. - Asmodeusz uśmiechnął się kącikiem ust. - Ale to już nie będzie moja wina.

Dean odetchnął głęboko. Powoli odłożył nóż na stół, obok kryształowej szklaneczki. Opuścił gardę, tylko odrobinę, tylko na tyle, by pozwolić sobie na cień nadziei.

- A jeśli się nie zgodzę? - zapytał. To była absurdalna myśl. Oczywistym było, że się zgodzi, niezależnie od tego, jakie kosmiczne konsekwencje czekały na nich tym razem. A jednak potrzebował tej odpowiedzi. Na później. Na chwilę, kiedy ponownie zanurkują w szambie i będą próbowali zrozumieć powody, dla jakich się w nim znaleźli.

Asmodeusz westchnął lekko.

- W przypadku Sama - powiedział, wskazując ręką nieruchome ciało. - Jak widzisz. Niebo jest dla niego zamknięte, w piekle panuje zamęt. Mógłbym ukryć jego duszę w Hellheimie, albo w tym, co z niego zostało. Na jakiś czas byłoby to dobre rozwiązanie, ale ostatecznie... Zew Jeziora Ognia jest bardzo silny.

- Jakie byłyby konsekwencje niedotrzymania umowy dla nas wszystkich? - wzruszył ramionami. - Nie jestem pewien. Ale to nie może być nic dobrego. Podejrzewam katastrofę na skalę wszechświata.

- Zrób to - wyrzucił Dean. Ulga, jaka go zalała, kiedy tylko padły te słowa, była tak głęboka, że zadrżały pod nim nogi. Usiadł ciężko na stoliku, blisko Sama, wyciągnął ręce i odnalazł zimną, nieruchomą dłoń brata. - Zrób to.

Asmodeusz znów uśmiechnął się kącikiem ust. Położył rękę na piersi Sama i wyszeptał kilka słów. Przez moment wnętrze myśliwskiej chaty rozjaśniał blask - błękitny, biały i złoty. Dean mógłby przysiąc, że złowił okiem widok rozedrganego, świetlistego tworu, czystej energii opadającej w głąb ciała Sama. Asmodeusz cofnął rękę, a pierś Sama drgnęła, jego płuca zassały powietrze. Dean poczuł, jak palce brata kurczą się i rozprostowują w jego stulonych dłoniach.

- Hej - powiedział miękko. - Hej, hej, Sammy.

- Powoli. - Asmodeusz wyprostował się, cofnął i zatoczył lekko. - To zajmie trochę czasu. Ja nie uznaję tych jarmarcznych, anielskich sztuczek. Moje podejście jest bardziej holistyczne.

- Sam - powtarzał Dean raz za razem. - Sam. Sam. Sammy?

Amodeusz patrzył przez chwilę na Deana, potrząsającego dłonią brata. Uśmiechnął się znów, nieco cynicznie, z odrobiną ciepła.

- Nie ma za co - powiedział i zniknął.

1) per facta concludentia - w drodze czynności konkludentnych