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inkandpen22 · 3 years

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The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 2)

Pairing: JJ x Reader / Topper x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, mild fluff

Part Summary: After the Labor Day Gala, the Pogues take Y/N back to the Chateau. There, JJ takes the chance to finally talk to her and Y/N starts to show the group that not all Kooks are the same.

Masterlist

JJ offers you his hand as you climb off of the HMS Pogue. He takes note of how soft your hands are, silently loving how tightly you're squeezing him. It makes him feel needed, but then he starts to wonder why would a girl who has everything possibly need him? You have the world at your feet and he only has loose change in his pockets.

The ride over to The Cut helped your intoxication ease up. You're still not confident enough to drive a car but capable of staying awake and be witty. You and the gang of Pogues approach the chateau, a place unlike anything you’ve ever been to. It’s colorful lights illuminate the yard and fire pit waiting to be used. JJ presses his palm to your back, worried that you may lose your footing, whether it be because of the uneven ground or your state of mind. Kiara leads the way into the house while John B and Pope linger behind, observing as JJ dotes on you. As he arm wraps around your waist slowly but surely, they exchange knowing looks. What JJ might see as progress, you view as a friend of Sarah’s being helpful. It’s not that you don’t find JJ attractive. You’ve noticed him around over a dozen times. You’ve always been friendly, but JJ has been nothing but reserved around you. You just wish you had spoken before tonight, under these circumstances. You figure he must view you as most Pogues do Kooks, as stuck up and spoiled. The screen door leading to the porch squeaks, breaking the silent stroll.

"OBX Princess has probably never been on this side of the island before," Kiara teases playfully as she enters the house to fetch you something to drink.

"I have actually," you state loud enough for Kiara to hear from the kitchen. "There's a little shop I like over here but even then, I will confess, it’s a rarity that I get to see this side of the island.”

“You talk about The Cut like it’s something worth seeing,” Pope jokes.

“Of course it is,” you reply though knowing he was only messing around. “It’s far more natural looking than what we call “nature” on the Figure 8. John B’s yard is more welcoming than the meticulously gardened one at my house,” you giggle lightly as you look around the porch.

The three boys all exchange quick glances, surprised by your backhanded comment about your half of the island. They would’ve predicted that you’d have nothing bad to say about your well-do neighborhoods considering you’re supposed to be the ultimate Kook.

"Sorry, it's a little messy in here," John B apologizes as he begins to toss things- from bathing suits to cereal boxes- off the couch.

You still linger by the front door with JJ close beside you, watching his best friend fuss. "It's perfectly fine, John B," you assure the boy with a soft smile. "Thank you."

"You never clean up for us," Pope mocks his friend in passing as John B heads inside with his pile of clothes.

"Oh shut up," John B nudges Pope in the shoulder, making him fall back into the armchair. His action only making Pope chuckle harder.

Shyly, you step over to the old couch, taking a seat at the end closest to Pope. JJ rocks on his heels nervously, unsure where to put himself. He wants to sit next to you and place his hand on your leg but he also doesn’t want seem like a total creep. Awkwardly, he determines to lean against the frame of the screened-in-porch. He's thankful that your attention is focused on Kiara as she returns, handing you a water bottle.

"Thanks," you smile, earning a similar expression from the Pogue. She settles down on a folded chair across the coffee table from you, watching as you crack open the bottle lid.

"How are you feeling?" JJ checks as you swallow.

"My heart feels like it's in my throat," you confess, swallowing hard, wondering if that would help. "But the fresh air from the ride helped immensely."

Pope frowns in the chair just beside you. "How many grams do you think you smoked?"

You shrug, starring off at the coffee table to think. "Couldn't tell you. It felt like I was in that locker room for ages though. I think Rafe buys his joints from a buddy of his from this side of the island," you glance between the three Pogues.

John B pops back out of the house. "Well, I suggest never taking anything from Rafe again," he exhales deeply as he settles down on the spot at the opposite end of the couch from you.

JJ internalizes a scream as he watches his best friend share the couch with you. ‘Look how easy it is you idiot!’ He thinks to himself. ‘All you had to do was sit next to her, it wasn’t like you had to put on a performance or anything!’

"Noted," you nod with a chuckle. Your brows scrunch together as you reach up into your hair. "Geez, this thing hurts," you huff under your breath. You begin to remove all the bobby pins your mom shoved into your hair and place them in your lap. She insisted on you having your hair up to show off the dress she picked out. Your hair begins to fall naturally in strands. Relief already spreads across your head.

JJ's lips part as he watches your perfectly shiny Y/H/C hair fall over your shoulders. If it didn't sound so creepy, he'd ask if you'd need help. He squeezes the wood panel behind him, suppressing his urge to run his fingers through your hair. "If you... uh..." he stammers, capturing your attention.

When your Y/E/C eyes meet his blue ones, it only makes him blush more. His fellow Pogues stare at him with a confused expression. Kiara wonders to herself what he was even trying to say. John B slouches in his seat as he turns his face away from you, begging for his friend to pull himself together.

JJ clears his throat, "if you... uh... want a change of clothes I could grab you something."

You nod, appreciative of his offer. "That would be great, thank you!" You hated this dress and everything required underneath it. You much rather be in shorts and t-shirts all day if you could. There's always been a piece of your that's been envious of the Pogues, it doesn't exactly matter what they wear as long as it's functional. Being a Kook means being done up 24/7.

JJ presses his lips together, giving you a sharp nod before jogging inside to find you something to change into. John B follows behind him, claiming that he's going to grab a case of beer for everyone. He watches as JJ has a quiet but expressive hissy fit all the way down the hall to the guest bedroom.

“Oh my God! Could I be anymore ridiculous!” The boy jumps up and down.

"JJ and Y/N sitting in a tree..." John B sings over his best friend's shoulder.

"Shut up, man," JJ grumbles, shoving his buddy away from him.

John B doesn't leave him alone, following him to his bedroom and standing in the doorway. JJ's room at John B's is utter chaos. He's in and out constantly that it's never been completely put together. All he has is a bed, an old butterfly chair from Kiara, and a chipped dresser. JJ's satisfied with though, as long as he doesn't have to go back to dad's house.

"You haven't stopped starring at her since I picked you guys up," John B snickers, watching his friend dig around his drawer for something clean. "Since when do you let people borrow your stuff?"

JJ stops his actions, pressing his palms down on the dresser. "She's... I don't know..." he struggles to find the right words as he focused down on his ring-covered hands. "I mean, you’re seeing it right? She's not like the other Kooks. I don't why she hangs out with those guys."

"Have you spoken to her before tonight?" John B asks, moving to sit on the end of JJ's bed.

JJ turns, leaning against his dresser with his arms crossed over his chest. "No, but you remember that night at the Boneyard?"

"How could I forget? You wouldn't shut up about her for weeks!" John B teases.

JJ grins, recalling the first time he ever saw you. "I didn't even know her name. Then, I saw her at the Cameron's here and there. I learned her name from Topper of all people. He called for her to join him in the pool. Whenever I was over there, she's smiled and waved at me. Then again, does that with all the workers the Cameron's have over there I guess. She’s just a nice person, treats everyone the same. I kept telling myself that the next time I saw her I'd talk to her... obviously I chickened out each time. Have you talked to her before?"

"Uh yeah, on occasion," John B exhales, trying to recall the times. "The first time I met her after the Boneyard, she and Sarah were tanning on the Cameron's dock while I was cleaning their boat. Topper and Kelce came over and Sarah went to go get them. I accidentally dropped a wet cloth on Y/N while cleaning off the side railings. Any other Kook girl would've had a fit, but Y/N just laughed. I don't know if she would've reacted the same way if Sarah and others were there, but I like to think she would've."

A soft smile appears across JJ's lips, his admiration of you only deepening. He envisions you laying out and the wet rag landing on you. No doubt John B freaked out and rushed out random apologies. You wouldn’t have been pretentious or hostile about the accident, that's not you. A reassuring smile would’ve immediately appeared on your face as you tell him it's alright.

"She tossed me the cloth with the brightest smile," John B continues with a soft snicker, proving JJ’s prediction. "And actually offered to help. Right when she was about to lend me a hand, Rafe and Topper came jogging down the dock. They got all defensive and led Y/N toward the house. It was ridiculous."

"I honestly hate those guys," JJ clenches his jaw.

"Y/N's cool though," John B tells his friend, pushing off his bed to stand up. "One of the most real Kooks I've come across."

"I can't believe I've never talked to her before," JJ huffs, tossing his head back.

"They're untouchable, you know? It's always been us vs. them," his buddy pats him on the shoulder as he heads toward the door.

"Not anymore. I don't care if it's impossible. I have to know her," he states with determination.

"She's here now, use that to your advantage," John B advises.

"Plan on it," JJ mutters to himself as his friend steps out into the hallway.

He had you here, within reach. JJ wasn't going to just let this opportunity pass him by. Topper, Rafe, the guys he hated that constantly have you in their hold aren't anywhere near here. He may never get a chance like this again. JJ's had this overwhelming feeling in his chest since he first saw you last summer. He knows you're meant to be his, not Topper's, not Rafe's, his.

As you and Pope continue your conversation about the history of the island, JJ appears in the doorway. He offers you a neatly folded stack of clothes ranging from an old AC/DC t-shirt that he stole from his dad to some old shorts of his that no longer fit. The Pogues wonder how long it took him to perfectly fold everything together. Your hands glide over his during the exchange and he ponders the sensation of your skin against his.

'You're so warm,' he thinks to himself.

"Thanks again, you have no idea how uncomfortable strapless bras can be!" You giggle as your rise to your feet to go change.

"The actual worst," Kiara agrees dramatically as she stands from her seated position. "Hey, I'm gonna come with you, I left my change of clothes in the bathroom!"

"Awesome!" You grin, following the girl inside.

Once you and Kiara have disappeared JJ plops on the couch next to where you would've been. He rests his elbows on his knees and hides his face in his hands. “Jesus and all that is good!" He yells, muffling the noise into his palms.

"What?" Pope laughs at his friend's expense. "Hoping she'd ask you to help undress her? 'Oh JJ, you're so sweet!' 'JJ, brush my hair!'” Pope mocks in a high-pitched voice.

“‘JJ, I loovvee you'," John B adds to the mix, pretending to pucker his lips at his friend.

"I think I'd actually go for a dive in the swamp if she asked me too," JJ concludes, coming to terms with how bad he has it.

"Just tell her! Put yourself out of this misery," Pope advises, earning a laugh from John B.

"It's not that easy," JJ groans, resting his head on the back of the couch.

"Why not?" John B presses.

"Because I don't wanna scare her off!" JJ snaps.

John B hosts a reality check for his friend. “Dude, you and almost every guy in the OBX are pleading for Y/N’s attention, including Topper and Rafe! You’ve seen how close Topper is to her, that’s what you’re competing with,” he reminds, making JJ’s heart sink. “Pull yourself together and impress her!”

“Be yourself of course,” Pope adds, ever the level headed mind. “But yeah you really need to step up your game. You’re sinking like the Titanic,” Pope mocks.

“It’s painful to watch,” John B adds with a laugh.

JJ exhales deeply, taking in his friends advice. How could he possibly compete with boys from the Figure 8. They’re your closest friends and have so much more to offer you. What you have with Topper is what JJ wants with you. Now he’s stuck wondering how he’s going to get it.

_______________________________________________________

After you finish changing, you find everyone outside. JJ swings in the hammock while Kiara and Pope sit on a log by the firepit talking. You approach the pair, feeling much better in JJ’s clothes.

"So, what did I miss?" You ask, clasping your hands together.

JJ didn't hear you coming, so when he glances in your direction and sees you in his clothes for the first time, he feels as though his head just exploded. His shorts are nowhere to be seen underneath the t-shirt that lands just above your knees. The collar is so worn that it nearly hangs off your shoulder, completely bare. Your loosely curled hair rests tucked over your one shoulder. He sits up to get a better look at you and nearly loses his balance in the hammock. The object rocks to the side and JJ curses loudly, catching himself from almost falling out. When he looks up, you and his fellow Pogues are staring at him, suppressing your amusement.

"Anyway...." Kiara breaks the silence and answers your question. "We were just about to start a fire. I actually promised Pope I'd help him find sticks-" she explains, rising from her seated position. "-He's afraid of going into the woods by himself," she adds in a whisper as she passes by you.

You giggle. “Anything I can do to help?" You offer.

"Nah, John B is looking for the lighter and more beer, so I think we're all good," Pope sighs and gives your arm a gentle squeeze. "Rest!"

As the pair disappear into the woods, you turn your head in JJ's direction. Right as he sees you turn, he falls back onto the hammock, pretending to have not been paying attention. You approach the blonde boy with a charming smile. JJ feels his heart skip with each shift of gaffle beneath your feet.

You stand over him, hands interlocked in front of you. "Can I join you?"

"What-" JJ's mind goes blank, forgetting how to speak English for a second. "Oh! Yeah! Yeah!" He rushes out, sliding over to the far side of the hammock to make room.

You lay down beside him, your body pressing against his. JJ finds it hard to breathe with you so close. You simply stare up at the stars. They're not as visible on the other side of the island with everyone's mansions blasting out so much light pollution. Your hand brushes against JJ's and he holds a ruthless internal battle. Does he hold your hand? Does he not hold your hand? What if you don't want him to hold your hand? But what if you do want him to?

"So, when you're not making drinks for Kooks, what do you like to do in your free time?" You ask the boy, not realizing that he's losing his mind.

JJ remembers what Pope and John B said, he has to pull himself together. He swallows hard, trying his hard to speak to you without stuttering like before. "Surfing mainly, hanging out with my friends, taking the boat out," he lists fluently, internally patting himself on the back. "What about you?"

"I love to travel, swim and go sailing," you name and there's a pause between you two.

JJ longs to hear more, but your mind begins to wonder as you stare up at the stars. JJ turns his head to the side, admiring how the glow of the Christmas lights in the trees shimmer against your tanned skin.

"Sometimes I'll be on my parent's boat by myself, and it takes every bit of me not to sail away," you mutter quietly, distant-mindedly. "It doesn't matter the destination. I find myself looking out to the horizon and dreaming of sailing out forever. I don't even think I'd look back..." When JJ shifts, you embarrassingly comprehend how much you rambled on. "Sorry, that just got really deep."

On impulse, JJ places his hand over your's giving it a slight squeeze. "No, no, I liked it! Tell me more?"

Your eyes flicker down to his hand resting over yours on your thigh. JJ hadn't even realized what he had done until he followed your gaze. He prepares to move it, but then you begin to flip your hand over, allowing your fingers to interlock. A rush of electricity rushes up JJ's arm from your hand. A wave of peace consumes him, something he hasn't felt in... well... forever. JJ watches as your eyes glide up and meet his own, the ones that made you awestruck on the boat ride here.

"What would you like to know?" You whisper into the small space between you two.

He shrugs, starting to feel relaxed around you and not a total spaz. "What else do you like? What's your favorite song? Movie? Show?" He lists one after the next.

You giggle at his enthusiasm, earning a grin from the boy. "Um okay..." you lick your lips, deep in thought, not noticing how the action made JJ swoon. "Well, that's kinda a hard one because I can't really select just one movie or song or show. What about you?"

He raises his brows, not having expected to answer himself. "I like The Beach Boys, Rusted Root, The Animals, Simon & Garfunkel-"

"Ah, Mrs. Robinson," you name with a smirk.

"You know them?" JJ looks surprised.

You laugh, kind of offended. "Do you think the Figure 8 is under the water like Atlantis or something?" You joke as your eyes fall shut with laughter.

JJ grins, glad to see you coming down from the events of earlier tonight. He was really worried for a while there. "I like your laugh," he mumbles before he has the chance to stop himself.

Taken aback, you turn to attention back to him. His eyes pour into yours with such admiration that it nearly makes you lose your breath. "I like your smile... when you show it," you add at the end with a smirk.

"I smile!" JJ pops himself up on his elbows, smiling with amazement at your remark.

"I think I may have seen it one time ever and that was earlier tonight," you describe with a giggle. "I always smile and wave at you whenever I see you with John B at Sarah's and you just ignore me. If you didn't help me tonight, I would've thought you hated me," you admit shyly.

JJ's face falters. He never realized that his shyness could make you think he ever hated you. If he wasn't kicking himself before, he surely is now. As you avoid his gaze, he lays back down beside you. Your eyes remain up toward the starry sky, too embarrassed to look at him.

Turning onto his side, JJ reaches out and tucks his fingers under your chin to make you meet his gaze. You do so, seeing his blue eyes starring into yours with a glimmer of guilt. "I don't hate you, Y/N... that would be... impossible," he whispers.

His words make your chest sink, but not with dread, with longing. How is it that this is the most you and JJ have ever spoken to each other? When you're with him it feels so normal, natural even. "Well good, I'm glad," you reply, feeling your cheeks warm up.

JJ leans forward, closing the space between you two even more. His brows scrunch together and his hand glides across your cheekbone. "You care about what I think of you?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" You wonder. You cared about what everyone thought of you, as every teenage girl does. Yet, for some reason, you care most about what JJ thinks. You suppose because of the circumstances of how you met. You'd hate for him to judge you or make assumptions because of a bad night.

"I'm just some Pogue," he shrugs, dismissing himself as nothing. "And you're..." he swallows hard, his eyes falling from your eyes to your lips.

"I'm what?" You press further, eager to hear what he has to say.

"The Princess of the OBX," he recites your nickname across the island.

You roll your eyes, focusing your eyes back toward the sky. "That name is so superfluous." You hated being called that. It made you feel like you were constantly on display, for everyone to gaw at, or worst, ridicule. Plus, it was Sarah's title first. It feels like you're always being compared to her, especially when you're out in public with Topper.

"I don't know what that means but I bet it is," JJ snickers.

You giggle lightly at his confession. You appreciate his quickness to agree, despite not knowing what he's agreeing with exactly. Growing more confident as he talks with you, JJ gains the courage to reach up and brush strands of your hair away from your face. Subconsciously, you lean into his touch, your lips brushing against his palm.

"I like your hair. It's so shiny and soft," he compliments softly.

Your eyes flicker in his direction as you turn your head into his hand. "I like your eyes. I like how blue they are, they're the bluest eyes I've ever seen. They remind me of soft blue sea glass." They're intoxicating to you. If weren't so shy around JJ, you'd be staring at him every second.

"I like how nice you are, even to those you don't have to be," JJ names next.

"I like how generous you are, even to a Kook like me," you continue the exchange of compliments with a self-deprecated snicker.

"No, don't say that," JJ shakes his head repeatedly, disapproving of your remark against yourself. When you roll your eyes, dismissing his words, he slips his other hand from yours and brings it to your face too. "I like you!" He confesses, much to your surprise and his own. "...Even if you are a Kook," he adds jokingly under his breath.

Your heart races as your chest rise and fall rapidly. JJ's eyes flicker about your face, anticipating some sort of reaction. Even if it's a rejection, he needs to know what you're thinking for his sanity.

"I like you too," you lick your lips nervously. "Even if you are a Pogue," you smirk.

JJ chuckles softly at your play on his words and is in disbelief that this is happening. For a year he's been so obsessed with you and one night has opened you up to him. He's afraid that he'll wake up soon and it was all a dream.

JJ props himself up on his elbow again, bringing his other hand down your cheek to glide around the side of your neck. "I'd like to kiss you," he mutters a matter-of-factly, his eyes locked on your lips.

Gently, you bring your fingertips to his hairline, brushing his disheveled blonde locks away from his face. "I'd like that too."

Goosebumps course over your skin before JJ even brushes his lips against yours. The anticipation is enough to drive you wild. Despite wanting this moment since forever, JJ is hesitant to make a move. Slowly, he brings his face closer to yours, hovering mere centimeters from your lips. With hooded eyes, your focus remains on his lips, eager to feel them against your own. After reminding himself of how much he wants this, JJ swiftly presses his lips against yours. They're as soft as silk and taste of spearmint. Your fingers slip through his hair to the back of his head and your gather the strands into a fist, deepening the kiss. JJ releases a deep moan at the action. Needing more, he moves to hover over you. As his legs become intertwined with yours, he glides his free hand down your side to grip your waist. You bring your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him down closer to you. You feel as though you'll never be fully satisfied. His touch is like a drug to you.

"We got the sticks!" Kiara shouts as she and Pope emerge from the woods, startling you both.

"Got the beer!" John B announces he steps off the porch.

JJ breaks the kiss, flying up from his position too quickly. He loses his balance on the swinging hammock and sways to the side. "Oh fuck, here I go!" He swears, rushing to catch himself on the ground.

You yelp as JJ falls off the hammock onto the dirt beneath you. Followed by a thud, you lift yourself up, peeking over the edge of the swinging object. "JJ! You okay?!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," he groans, his eyes squeezed shut as he catches his breath. "But I think my leg went the wrong way there for a second."

Kiara and Pope are oblivious to what just happened to their friend as they start up the music and fire. You slide off the hammock and land on your feet. "Here, take my hands!" You offer the hurt boy as he continues to exhale shakily.

"I don't think-" Before JJ can finish, he's flying up off the ground with a good yank on the arms from you. "Damn, Kook! You're strong," he compliments, making your heart race. Grinning ear to ear, he presses his palm to your lower back and pulls you into him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You check again, worry woven in your tone and on your face.

"Absolutely Baby," he nods, leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"Come on guys!" Pope calls over to you, tossing sticks into the pit. He does a double-take, processing that he just saw JJ leaning down and giving you a kiss. "Did you guys see what I just did?"

"Yep," John B rushes out as he clears his throat awkwardly.

"A thousand percent," Kiara confirms, pretending as though she didn't.

"And here it goes!" John B exhales deeply to his fellow Pogues. Despite being happy that his best friend finally has his girl, he and the rest of the Pogues are well aware that a pairing like this comes with severe consequences.

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Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly @cc13723things

#topper #topper outer banks #topper obx #topper imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fic #jj #john b routledge #kiara #sarah cameron #pope #obx fanfiction #obx jj #rafe obx #obx #outterbanks

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ejlovespie · 4 years

Text

Heartbroken (Pt. 1)

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: EJ (@ejlovespie)

Summary: The reader sacrificed herself to save Dean so when she comes back she is surprised and heartbroken to find him living a new life with Lisa and Ben. Will they be able to fix their broken relationship when they reunite?

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1900

Warnings: Angst/Cursing/Depression

A/N: I would love to hear any feedback you have to give. Any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading! :)

You were on the outside looking in; in more ways than one. You stood with Sam, who was not himself, on a street of a nice suburb. You hid in the shadows and stared into a large front window on a house across the street. Inside the house, sitting around a dining table, you saw the man you loved having dinner with his new family. Sam had explained in a bored voice that the woman and the kid were Lisa and Ben, two people you had heard of but never expected to see. Sam was...off and you knew you should be concerned for him but at this moment all you could feel was pain. The sight of them all smiling and laughing together like they were in a Hallmark movie had your heart aching in a way that was so tangible. You felt like at any moment, it would give out and you would die all over again. To be clear, it wasn't the sight of Dean with them that hurt you so much; it was knowing how little he cared for you. You had died; no. You had sacrificed yourself to save him, to save the world from the apocalypse, and not even a month later he had moved on. He looked like he was finally happy. This is heartbreak you thought to yourself.

You weren't sure how long you and Sam had stood there, watching them, before you both left, leaving Dean to live his new life. You thought back to the events that led you here. You, Sam, and Samuel had woken up when you should never have. The three of you were dead but someone or something had brought you back. The first thing you had done was go find Dean.

Next, you went to find Bobby and let him in the loop. You all had agreed to leave Dean out of the current events, so you had gone your separate ways. Sam decided to join his newly discovered family while you, in a heartbroken haze, decided to move on. In a car loaned from Bobby, you drove in a daze. You weren’t sure where you would go; you just needed to get as far away from Dean as possible. You knew it wasn’t true but you had hoped if you drove far enough away, you could forget everything. Forget him.

1 Year Later

You were sitting alone in your motel room when you got the call. You knew this day would come, when Dean found out about you, Sam, and Samuel, but you had hoped for more time. You stared at your vibrating phone and Dean’s name flashing across the screen. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, answer it so you just stared at it until it stopped. He had called you three times before your phone chirped, letting you know you had a new voicemail message, then it went silent. Shit. Your phone buzzed again as a text message popped up on your screen. Shit. Shit. It had been a really long day and you were not ready to talk to him. You eyed the bottle of liquor you had bought from the gas station on the corner and decided to get drunk and face the music in the morning.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, only that your bottle was half empty. At some point the dingy room had started to spin around you. You had hoped the booze would help you to forget about your phone and the messages you had yet to read. Why couldn't you forget him? You had tried so hard over the past year. Thinking about Dean Winchester living his new apple-pie life was bittersweet; heavy on the bitter. Knowing he was out of the life, safe and happy, was the only thing that brought you any peace. You loved him with everything you had. Hell, you died to keep him and Sam safe. Then you would remember how Dean always looked at you, like he pitied you. He knew your feelings for him and because he didn’t feel the same way, he felt bad for you. Dean’s face popped into your mind then. His green eyes, flecked with gold. His strong, stubbled jaw and full lips. His smile, which was so rare but would light up a room. You may be drunk but you could never forget the details to his face.

A groan escaped your lips and suddenly you were desperate to hear his voice again. Picking up your phone, you pulled up the voicemail you had been avoiding. You clicked the play button and held it to your ear before you could change your mind. There was a short pause before Dean spoke,

“Y/N..It’s Dean. I know everything; Sam filled me in. Call me back.”

He sounded pissed. With that one short message, a slew of memories filled your drunken head and all of the pain you had been trying to bury hit you at once. The sound of his gruff voice, his unique smell of whiskey, leather, and the impala. His tall, muscular body, his strong arms and hands. A tear rolled down your cheek without your permission and you quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand. You checked your phone again and read his text message.

Call me. Now.

You snorted and mumbled drunkenly, “Bossy...boss pants. How are you so sexy over text. S’not fair.”

Grabbing the bottle in front of you, you poured some more liquor into your empty glass and nearly fell out of your chair when your phone started vibrating on the table again. Dean’s name flashed across the screen and you wanted to hear his voice so badly, even if he was pissed at you. You resisted answering...until he called again and you couldn’t take it anymore. You clumsily picked up the phone and brought it to your ear and listened.

"Y/N?"

Dean practically barked at you on the other line. There was a short pause and then he spoke again in a more controlled voice.

"Y/N. I know you're there."

He sounded...sad? Frustrated? You heard a sigh and then Dean kept talking.

"Fine. You don't have to talk. Just listen...Sam told me everything. Apparently the three of you have been back for a whole year."

His voice was getting hard, angry again and you could hear him take a breath before going on.

"I know you guys wanted me to have a normal life but I know now okay? I'm hunting again and I need to see you...We need to talk."

You had imagined this conversation and what you would say to him when he confronted you. Your drunken brain tried remembering the rehearsed words but you couldn't remember. At some point tears had started to roll down your cheeks. You were horrified when you opened your mouth and a strangled, broken sound came out. Dean said your name again but you couldn't listen anymore. You thought about the night you came back and your heart broke all over again. You opened your mouth the words rushed out in a sob.

"There's nothing to talk about. Bye Dean."

Hanging up the phone, you broke down. Your phone rang for a while before you shut it off. You sat alone, drunk in a craphole motel room, and finished your bottle of cheap booze and cried, wishing you had never been brought back.

6 Months Later

You were in between cases, which you hated because it left you with too much time to think. Working kept you busy, kept your thoughts away from the Winchesters, away from the past. You were at the bar, nursing a beer, when you heard a fluttering behind you. You knew what, or rather who, it was right away. You took another sip of your beer before turning in your seat to face Cas. He looked the same as always. He was wearing the same brown trench coat, blue tie, and serious expression. Cas nodded at you and then took the open seat on your right. He sat for a long moment, not saying a word. When he finally looked at you, Cas surprised you by saying,

“You’ve lost weight. Why?”

Deciding to ignore that comment, you answered his question with one of your own.

“What are you doing here Cas?”

Blue eyes stared at you like they knew all of your secrets and you started to fidget in your seat a bit.

“Sam and Dean sent me to find you. I need to take you to them.”

“You’re supposed to be a powerful angel Cas. Why are you letting the boys boss you around like you're their bitch.”

You snorted when his face remained stoic and he said nothing again for a minute.

“I don’t know what that means but they need to talk to you. Apparently, your phones have been disconnected but I suspect that was on purpose.”

“You suspected correctly.”

Cas sighed and an irritated look crossed over his face.

“Y/N I don’t have time for this. We’re leaving.

Before you could react, Cas had grabbed your arm and you were zapped through space and time. One minute you were in the bar and the next you had blinked and found yourself in Bobby’s living room. Looking down, you realized your beer was still in your hand. You brought it to your lips and finished it before setting it on the coffee table. Shit. You looked around the room and noticed Cas had disappeared again. Traitor. You mumbled to yourself. Picking up your empty beer bottle, you walked to the kitchen to find the trashcan and froze in the doorway.

Dean was leaning against the counter, legs crossed in front of him, looking at something on his phone. This was the first time you have seen him up close in at least two years. He was just as gorgeous as you remembered. You swore you could feel your heart skip a beat in your chest when he looked up at you and straightened. Anger filled Dean’s eyes and his jaw started to tick. Putting his phone down on the counter, he stared at you and you stared back at him and waited for him to say something. Anything. It felt like an eternity passed before he walked over to you, plucked the bottle from your hand, and tossed it in the bin behind him. Turning back to you, Dean looked you over and you panicked internally. His expression became angrier, his nose flaring slightly and his lips pursed. With gritted teeth, he said,

“Look who Cas dragged in.”

His words cut you, even more than his glare. You knew he was beyond pissed. You tried to turn to leave when Dean’s large hand had reached up to grip your chin, turning you back to face him. He continued to stare at you and you stared back up into his eyes. Suddenly, his arms were around you, gripping you so tightly you were having a hard time breathing. Dean’s smell surrounded you and you felt his stubbled chin rest on the top of your head. You had never hugged each other like this. Closing your eyes, you wrapped your arms around Dean and breathed him in. You knew an argument was coming but right now you would just enjoy being held by the man you love.

To Be Continued...

Dean Girls:

@akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic series #spnfandom #supernatural

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years

Text

v e l o c i t y - chapter i

The one where John’s your true mate, but he doesn’t want you to be his.

In a universe where fate grants you a new mate whenever you lose yours, John has lived quite comfortably for many years with the knowledge that he was alone after Mary. That all comes crumbling down the second that he meets you. How could the universe choose someone so young to be his omega?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. It’s being constantly updated

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I could see Bobby moving around from the corner of my eyes, but I felt too tired to even just stop focusing on the bottle of beer I was holding between my hands. People were all around us - actually, exclusively men, but I didn’t really know them and didn’t really care to introduce myself.

A feeling of loneliness had covered me, like a blanket I wasn’t too sure I would be able to push aside. Because the truth was, I was alone. Now that my dad was gone, I had no one to really count on.

Just then, I felt someone squeezing my shoulder and I forced myself to smile, because I knew I was being unfair. I knew Bobby would never leave me alone, not when he was my godfather and had always cared so deeply for me. But that didn’t make any of this any less hard.

Breathing deeply, I forced myself to get up from the couch and stretch my muscles before deciding to escape through the back door just so I could get a bit of fresh air out on the porch. Too many alphas in a single house and any unmated omega like myself would start to get crazy, even when we didn’t necessarily have any reason to feel threatened. So I stood there for a bit, looking out into the plain field, just pondering about what the future would hold for me until I heard a commotion coming from inside.

Curious, I walked back into the living room just in time to see three men being warmly welcomed by the hunter community that had gathered in Bobby’s house tonight. I vaguely recognized the one who seemed to be the oldest, but his back was turned to me and so I could only really take notice of a well-used black jacket, until a strong whiff of men’s cologne took over me and I felt like I was about to faint. What the hell was going on? My insides were hurting and I thought I was going to melt, so I held myself in a tight embrace in the hopes of keeping myself together when Bobby noticed me and while he tried to move me closer to the newcomers, probably intending to introduce me to them, the smell grew stronger and stronger until I was quite literally salivating to the arome.

Bobby extended his arm to get the familiar man’s attention and I immediately stretched mine to wrap around his wrist, in need of support. “Bobby, I don’t feel so well.” I knew his head whipped to look at me but at the same time, the man turned around and the last thing I remember before fainting was looking at eyes the color of honey.

It was already morning when I came to be. The sunlight softly penetrated the thin curtains on Bobby’s guest bedroom I was already familiar with and by the sight of it, I had been quite unceremoniously dropped over the still made bed, still wearing the same clothes from last night. That much was expected, not only since there wasn’t a single female in the house and I highly doubted Bobby would have let anyone see me naked, but also since yesterday's reunion had a purpose. The hunters gathered in my godfather’s house had a strict timeline to follow, if they wanted to get rid of the vampires that had murdered my father.

So I didn’t think much about it, opting to get in the shower and wash away the sadness and confusion over yesterday’s events. I still wasn’t sure about what had happened - I certainly hadn’t ever fainted before -, but I supposed the heaviness of what I was going through had caught up to me. I hadn’t really been feeding myself properly either, I suddenly remembered. Yeah. That must have been it.

So I put on a yellow sundress that was my mother’s in the hopes that its color would cheer me up and prepared myself to get some breakfast, because by now I felt like my insides were clawing at me, begging me to get something to fill the hole inside of me. As soon as I closed the door to the room I was sleeping in, that smell hit me again. The same one that had threatened to suffocate me last night. What the fuck was going on? How did this perfume open up my already animalistic appetite?

By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was certain I was wearing a scowl on my face, something I had never once before sported.

“Sweetheart…” Turning to my right, I found Bobby staring at me with a deep frown.

John’s P.O.V.

I watched Bobby try to get a hold of her from afar, and a small part of me felt smug about the fact that he feared what I would do if he touched what was mine. Then I remembered I didn’t care about this girl and made sure the best scowl I had was plastered on my face for when she looked at me.

It didn’t help that she smelled so… yummy. I wanted to eat her up whole. Still, I knew I couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Didn’t really want to - I forced myself to remember.

Fuck.

It had been too long since I’d had to deal with a mate and I forgot how strong the urge to bond can be. It didn’t help that this time I had two kids older than my omega trying not to laugh at me from behind their mugs.

“Stop that.” I slapped the back of Dean’s head, effectively making him spill a bit of coffee over his shirt, which in turn made me grin. Now we’re talking.

When my attention focused back on the girl and Bobby, they were a bit closer to each other, only on the other side of the living room, and they were talking in low voices. Suddenly, her eyes met mine and I felt it rise in me again, the need to pounce over there and dominate her.

But then she focused back on Bobby and I was left confused.

He was obviously explaining to her what had happened and that we were mates, so why didn’t she seem bothered by it? In fact, she looked as far from it as possible. If her expression was anything to go by, she was… bored?

Before long, they approached us again, and I was expecting her to throw herself at me or at least to acknowledge me as her mate in any way. That’s what I was prepared for. I knew what I was going to say to let her down as gently as possible. But what actually happened is that she went around the table and directly into the kitchen, turning on the stove.

“How about eggs and bacon for breakfast? Does anyone want some?” I swear I could hear fucking crickets singing outside, despite the fact that it was early morning. Was she really going to completely ignore me? “Hello? Eggs, bacon, answer me or you won’t be fed.” My boys jumped to action at the threat and I tried to make sense of what was happening while forcing myself to ignore just how cute she looked with her head tilted and a hand on her hip.

She cooked in silence then, not even granting me a look. I was beyond surprised by now. What the hell was I supposed to do about this?

As the plate of breakfast was laid in front of us, she took her seat next to Bobby, which just so happened to be to my left, but even then, she didn’t even glance at me, opting to munch on her food quietly. I took notice of the fact that she had a healthy appetite, instead of being one of those girls who tried to diet for the sake of impressing men, but my mind was still all over the place.

“Aren’t you going to say anything to me?” The minute the words escaped my mouth, whatever conversation my boys had been trying to maintain with Bobby immediately died down. Still, she didn’t look at me. The little girl had the nerve to seem unfazed by my presence and my question, even my irritation. She didn’t even raise her eyes to meet mine when she responded.

“Why should I?” The question caught me off guard, and the silence that followed revealed it to her. When no one intervened to break the ice, she chanced a glance up, her beautiful bright eyes meeting mine, and she sighed, at last dropping her cutlery before straightening up to talk to me.

“I’m sorry if that came off rude, but the truth is… It’s very clear that you have absolutely no interest on me as an Alpha, and since it is your responsibility to take care of me, even if it was to let me down gently, I don’t see why I’m the one who has to take your feelings into consideration and pay you the attention you didn’t grant me.”

God fucking damnit. She was already the most interesting woman I’d met in a very long time, and when I say a very long time, I mean way before she was born, when my wife - my first true mate - was still alive.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

John looked at a loss for words, and I took that as an indication that I could continue my meal without further idiotic demands. “Would you pass me the coffee, please?” I asked, pointing in the direction of the thermos, my eyes focused on my eggs. Dean reached out and poured some in my mug, which granted him a grateful smile.

“It’s huh… It’s very good coffee. Bobby tells me you’re the one who taught him how to make it like this.” That made me chuckle, and I chanced an amused glance to my godfather.

“Strong, you mean? Yeah, it’s the only way I know how to drink it.” Another uncomfortable silence. My absolute most hated thing. I quickly swallowed whatever food was left in my plate before pushing my chair away from the counter. “I have some stuff to do in the backyard… Leave the plates in the sink and I’ll clean them up when I get back. It was nice meeting you.” I nodded in their direction, stopping only to give a quick kiss on Bobby’s forehead, and left without another word or glance.

I was only able to breathe again when the back door was closed behind me and I was already a few good feet from the house. Fuck. Suddenly, I felt the urge to cry, and I knew that despite the distress I had been put under the last few days, it wasn’t only the death of my father or the refusal from my mate that was making me sad. It was those stupid omega hormones, trying to force me to go back there and beg for a forgiveness I didn’t really want.

Stupid fucking nature. I was stronger than that. I had to be. Even I had enough pride to stop me from throwing myself at the feet of someone who doesn’t want me.

I tried to distract myself from whatever the hell could be going on inside the house while taking care of the few things I could do outside of it. Granted, there wasn’t much. But anything was better than being stuck in that place, having to smell that mixture of gunpowder, scotch and cinnamon that made my head twirl. Fucking John Winchester and that delicious musk of his. I didn’t fucking need him.

It was with that thought that I popped open the hood of one of the cars Bobby and I had been working on, trying to focus on something other than my stupid body and its stupid wishes. After a few minutes of actually forcing myself to do so, I was finally able to zone out of my real-life drama and get lost in the world of carburetors and grease.

“Have you figured out what’s the problem with the engine?” The familiar voice brought a smile to my face, despite all of my current circumstances, and I found myself whipping around to stare at the boy towering over me.

“Jess!” The young beta smiled at me, always as excited to see me as I was. He’d been living near Bobby for years now, and I’d watched him grow up throughout my visits to my godfather. Now, despite being a year younger than me, he stood five inches taller, towering over my figure whenever he stood near.

“Hey there! Visitors?” He nodded towards the Impala, and I gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Something like that. Bobby had some… friends over last night, and those are the only ones left. They’re supposed to be leaving soon enough, though.” I returned my attention to the car’s motor but the lack of sound from my usually chipper companion made me raise my gaze up to him once more. “What?” I inquired, inadvertently already smiling as I waited for his question.

“Do you hate them or what?” Chuckling, I crouched to search for one of my tools before going back to work on the engine.

“Why the question?” I didn’t really mind answering it, I was always just curious about how Jess’ mind worked. I wanted to know if I had any major tells. As someone who had seen me practically every day for the last month, could he see that I’d met my mate? Had that encounter changed me somehow?

“You don’t seem very happy to talk about them. And you’re usually excited about everything and everyone.” The idea he had of me made me snort. I tended to be someone who saw the brighter side of life, that was true, but after my father’s death, I didn’t really think I’d been able to keep up that appearance. Guess I was wrong.

“I suppose you’re right.” That’s all I said, sending a quick smile his way before returning to the task at hand. Jess helped, giving me the tools I needed when I asked for them, and I absentmindedly listened to him babble about his last year of highschool as I kept my focus on my manual work.

It was one of the reasons why I liked to help Bobby so much. When I was fixing a car, even if it was just a simple job, my mind was occupied with something else entirely. It was like my own form of meditation, only a bit dirtier.

I was almost able to forget about John Winchester and his stupid scent. Almost. If it weren’t for the periodical cramps that I tried to ignore in order not to alert my company - I definitely didn’t want to talk about it with Jess - I supposed I would have been able to forget about the Winchester men before they disappeared from my life forever.

That was, of course, until they left the house and gathered in the Impala, catching the attention of my very hyper friend. “Oh, wow. Those are Bobby’s friends? I can smell them even from here.

A very unattractive snort escaped me, and it caught Jess’ attention. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, did they try to disturb you?” I had to smile to myself at how cute he sounded, so defensive for me.

“Not really. I’m just glad that they’re gone.” And with one last look over my shoulder, just in time to watch John back up the Impala and leave, I added, “I hope I’ll never have to see them again.”

Chapter ii ➡

#john winchester reader #john winchester x reader #john winchester reader insert #john winchester fanfiction #john winchester fan fiction #john winchester oneshot #john winchester au #john winchester imagine #john winchester imagines #my series

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

Don’t You Dare Touch Me

Summary: When Sam and Dean let Nora in on a hunt, she gets more of an experience than she bargains for. She deals with it the only way she’s ever seen a hunter deal—by burying it deep down below a level of anger and alcohol.

Characters: Dean Winchester & Nora Winchester

Content Warnings: Angst, typical Winchester family business - murder/ death, emotional pain/ trauma, and alcohol consumption.

"I think that's enough."

Nora scoffed, her eye contact with Dean remaining steady as she pitched back the drink, feigning indifference as the whiskey seared her throat, sending a warmth through her chest that barely flickered when compared to the pain surging through her as she searched for some sort of release or whatever it was that her brothers and father and every hunter she had ever known seemed to be chasing down the bottom of a bottle.

Dean rarely had much to say about his sister having a drink these days, hadn't really since she turned eighteen. He didn't have much of a leg to stand on considering he'd started consuming much earlier than she had and it didn’t bother him much anyway. Nora was a good kid. She was usually responsible about it.

Nora had only gotten drunk once in the time since she’d started indulging without asking permission, and she’d done it in the company of her brothers, the three of them collectively getting a little out of hand in the name of celebration, but this was something different. This wasn’t a finger of whiskey enjoyed with her bare feet up on the coffee table or Nora and Sam sampling a fancy bottle of wine. It wasn’t a beer used to wash down one of Dean’s famous burgers.

He recognized this as something else entirely, something he’d done more than once, something he’d never wanted for his sister.

Dean wasn't sure how much Nora had had, but his sister had been alone in the library since they arrived back at the bunker, heading straight there without a word to her brothers, the music coming from Sam's laptop growing steadily louder until it finally pulled Dean from his bedroom to check on her while Sam went out to pick up dinner.

The bottle of whiskey sat beside his sister was nearly empty. Dean couldn't remember how much was left before they'd gone out for the latest hunt, but he imagined it had been more than half-way full the last time he’d had it out of the cupboard. How much she’d had didn't matter though. His concerns were more closely tied to the fact that his sister had sought this out on her own, reaching for oblivion as she pored over the book they should've read a bit closer the day before, poring over the passage he shouldn't have rushed her through.

She'd been curled up with the book in the backseat for the entire ride back to the bunker, completely silent with her headphones firmly in place, not a single request to stop for the bathroom or lunch or to stretch her legs made during the seven-hour journey, not a single interruption to Sam and Dean's conversation voiced, no complaints or sounds coming from their sister in the back seat other than the turning back and forth of pages as she memorized the words Dean hadn’t given her a chance to even skim.

She'd gone for a shower back at the motel, been in there for maybe twenty minutes and she’d come out what Dean would have called stoic, strong and stoic and in control of herself. Dean was a little impressed, proud of the way she was handling everything, especially considering what she'd been through, what she'd ended up having to do, but Dean recognized it was his father’s voice in his head. It wasn’t him.

He and Sam should have known better than to be impressed, should have known better to be proud of Nora for something like that, something their sister wasn’t even capable of, pushing it all aside like that in the name of soldiering on. Sam and Dean knew their sister better than that, knew better than to accept her words at face value when she insisted she was fine after what she’d been through, what she’d done. And even if it hadn’t been their sister, even if it had been some random person, Sam and Dean should've known better to accept that sort of nonchalance because neither of them had been fine the first time someone else’s blood made its way onto the soft pad of their inexperienced hands. It wasn't something you could ever really wash away, not in the span of a shower, not in the span of a lifetime.

That's why Dean had always relegated his sister to the role of researcher. There were no blood splatters where the books were concerned, not direct ones anyway. It was safer, set a physical and emotional distance between Nora and what they really did, spared her aside from the occasional paper cut and whatever ideas the knowledge put into her head. But Dean understood why she was eager to experience the rest of the job. He'd been the same way once, curious and pulled to it with no real clue as to what hunting really meant.

But just like Nora’s consumption of alcohol, Dean and Sam had been able to push her introduction to it much later than their father had done for either of them. Sam and Dean had spent years instilling in her how important the research was, reminding her how necessary that component was to the success of her brothers’ business.

It had all started as a way to keep her out of the actual hunting, to keep her occupied on the long days left alone in hotel rooms or to entice her acceptance of the long stays at Bobby's, emphasizing the opportunity it gave her to learn from a seasoned hunter and his extensive library. It had been designed to keep her happy and safe, but it had become more than that at a certain point, more than a diversion and a convenient excuse because Nora was good at researching, better at it than either of her brothers, something Sam and his big shot college education were loath to admit some days.

Nora was smart, natural with the academic stuff like Sam had always been and always with a book nearby from the time she could read, but she had a hint of rebellion in her that kept her from loving school in the same way Sam did. And whenever she hadn't done as expected in regards to the school stuff, she was always quick to point out that Dean hadn't done as expected either, something he often had a hard time arguing with.

So her diligence and skill she’d developed with the research had come as a bit of a surprise, something Dean partly attributed to Nora being so eager to prove herself to them, so eager to fit some place in her brothers’ business that her determined eyes saw things Sam and Dean’s eyes more quickly dismissed or passed over.

Her determined eyes had still been looking, barely glancing up when they'd come back to the motel the day before, more engrossed in the words before her than her brothers’ updates, and Dean should have paid more attention to that, should have given more weight to the slew of old tomes and Sam’s laptop spread out in front of Nora on the motel bed. He should have heeded the fact that she clearly wasn’t finished with her part of the job, not ready to relinquish the work to them, but Dean hadn’t read his sister right. He’d gone ahead and announced their next course of action, decided what the kid was and that they could take care of things easily without his sister finishing her part of the job, a simple extraction and they'd have Jesse Miller back to frat parties and sleeping through the 8 am college classes his parents paid for from their retirement savings.

Nora had fought him at first, asking after a few more hours with the books just to be sure, but Sam had already agreed and Dean had easily dismissed the need for confirmation, their collective confidence in the plan enough that a bit of doubt about her abilities, doubt about her experience and hunches, crept into Nora’s mind, and her own confidence fell away, allowing her to set her own plans aside as she agreed to the course Dean charted, moved along that road by the fact that Sam and Dean were letting her come along.

It had been a while since Sam and Dean had let her do anything more than sit in the car, and she’d been eager, but now they all wished they'd left her behind sulking at the motel. Nora hated it and she usually railed against her brothers' protection with varying levels of intensity, but it had protected her, physically and mentally. It had kept her safe and whole and all of the things Sam and Dean hadn't been for a long time.

Nora met Dean's eye before filling the glass again, her hands shaking as the liquid sloshed over the rim.

“To saving people, hunting things, the family fucking business,” she said, lifting the glass in his direction and offering him a smile that made him feel sick in the pit of his stomach.

"Nor—" Dean stopped himself when she tipped the whiskey into her mouth, a soft hiss coming from her lips before she started filling the glass once again. "I said that's enough."

Nora stood and backed away from the table, taking the glass and the bottle with her as she stepped away. Dean took a few steps toward her, hand extended and reaching for the glass though her back was to him as she trailed away.

“Nora, give me the glass.”

Nora tilted her head back a moment before extending an arm out behind her, setting the now empty glass in his outstretched hand while retaining the bottle and the small bit of whiskey left inside. She let out a self-satisfied snort and sent a smirk over her shoulder at him.

Nora was drunk. She wasn't herself, wasn't in control. She wasn’t conscious of exactly what she was doing. Dean knew that and he knew that he had no right in being pissed off for her behaving the way she was. It wasn't on purpose, but it set something ablaze in him anyway, a flash of anger running through him at his sister's smartassed defiance.

Dean set the empty glass aside, letting it clash with too much force as he placed it on the table and he moved with a more deliberate pace to close the distance she'd put between them.

"Nora, give me the goddamn—"

Dean didn't have a word to describe the sound that ripped from his sister's throat as he pulled her back to him, one hand wrapping around her arm as the other closed over her hand in an attempt to release the bottle from her grasp. Dean understood it though and it stirred something old and nearly dead, something interred deep within him, the sound of his sister's pain resonating so strongly with the residual something that still lived within him, a pain applied and buffed into his bones and soul, so well permeated that he'd never wash it away.

"Don't you dare touch me."

Even if Nora hadn’t growled the words, her wants had been made clear enough, discernible in the way she recoiled from Dean’s touch as if his fingers burned the skin through her shirt sleeve, made obvious by the way she tried to rip herself away from him. Dean didn't allow her to break the contact though, not even when she released a scream so high pitched that Dean could still hear a ringing in his ear a few seconds later when she stopped to take a breath.

The bulk of the remaining whiskey had spilled out in the struggle, drops of it covering them both, but Nora still gripped the neck, her effort to keep hold of the empty bottle renewed as Dean attempted to rid her of it, to get it out from the small space that existed between them, to save them from an even bigger mess, a different kind of pain. Dean couldn't imagine having to physically hold her down to bandage the cut that would inevitably come from allowing her to continue having the thing in her grasp.

Dean made a decision then and almost mechanically took hold of the bottle, twisting Nora's wrist as she cried out in pain, her whole body turning as he did it, her fingers involuntarily releasing the bottle which Dean quickly set aside, freeing her wrist, almost certain she'd use the opportunity to put some distance between them, use it as justified ammunition to keep him away.

Nora put her hands up and shoved at Dean’s chest hard enough that he stumbled back a step, dazed for a second as she rushed forward, whatever energy she’d been using in retaining the bottle, all of the focus and determination she’d held, now directed at her brother instead, and Dean simply took it, took the fists pounding against his chest, standing firm as Nora pushed against him, trying to move him back, trying to push him away as she sought a bit of the satisfaction she’d gained when he’d first stumbled, her words starting to come as the adrenaline subsided, a string of pained demands taking the place of the pounding fists, a continuous stream of cruel words wielding more power than any of her punches could have, most of them heavy enough and true enough that Dean tried to ignore a good bulk of it, tried to remember that Nora was working at creating a distance between them, both physical and emotional.

Her arms grew slack and Dean finally got a grip on her wrists, her fight renewed as he gained control.

"You can't push me away, kid."

She stopped fighting against his hold then and Dean sighed, relief just beginning to flow into him as he shifted his grip, preparing pull Nora against his chest, to work on getting her through the worst of it, to help her to shift from the anger to the tears, hoping he’d get her to sleep after that.

"You're murderers,” she said, her words barely above a whisper though they held a certain conviction. “You and Sam. Killing innocent people. Innocent fucking people. Ruined. Broken."

Dean swallowed as Nora stepped back, using his second of shock to put some distance between them, both of them working through her words and pulling out what they'd really meant, so much more than Nora labelling her brothers as exactly what they were.

Sam and Dean were hunters. And they had killed innocent people, hurt innocent people, ruined innocent people, broken them.

And Nora had now done the same. She'd summed it all up in words that took her only seconds to get out, expressed that she'd been ruined and had done the ruining, some precious part of her, the person she would never be again, killed in the three seconds it took for the knife in her hands to plunge into Jesse Miller's side, that part of her dead before the kid was, taking its last breath before the first bit of Jesse’s blood came to the surface of the wound she'd inflicted in the name of self-defense, the wound she'd inflicted because her brother had been wrong, wrong in not letting her finish the research, wrong in allowing her to come along, wrong in not watching over her more closely once they were in the middle of it, for putting her in that position.

Dean looked away from Nora for just a moment, to gather himself and avoid having to look at her as she came down from the anger, the hurt taking over as the venomous rage subsided, the tears coming from her heavy eyes somehow different than those that had been there just a moment before, the choked sobs somehow screaming at him though no sound came from her mouth.

"I—"

Dean rubbed a hand down his face, pulling his eyes back to Nora as she tried to speak, her feet moving just a step or so forward as she tried to fill the gaps, tried to fill the space between her and Dean and the space between what she'd said and what she'd meant, but Dean didn't need her to say any of it. Although she hadn't been able to get past that first syllable, Dean knew his sister had opened her mouth intent on labelling herself in the same ways she'd labelled her brothers.

Murderer.

Killer.

Ruined.

Broken.

Dean took a single step, the distance between them already small enough that he could easily reach out and pull Nora against his chest. Any composure she’d had left her shattered as he did it, her whole body shaking with the sobs that were no longer silent, her pain no longer buried under a layer of anger and stoicism as she clung to her brother, barely aware of his attempts to soothe them both.

"It's alright, kiddo. I know."

Bye, Bye Apple Pie (Supernatural) Masterlist

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

#500 follower celebration #angst prompts #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #nora winchester #winchester!sister

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

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in support of Texas relief, @wincest-endgame donated $25, and requested Sam & the amulet through the years. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

(read on AO3)

Dean pushes Sam into the bathroom, after what feels like a day of questioning and caution and Dean being withholding—he's so bad at it, Sam doesn't know why he even tries—and Bobby avoiding Sam's eyes—and Sam'll figure that out, eventually—but it's really only four in the afternoon, and he's got food in his belly for the first time in what feels like a week but he's assured is a year, and he's had a beer and a cup of coffee and Dean's squeezed his arm, on his bicep just above the bend of his elbow, and looked into his eyes for a full heart-rich moment when Bobby was on the phone in the kitchen and couldn't see—and they didn't do anything, of course they didn't, not in Bobby's house, but Sam closed the door behind himself with that look thick in his head, the knowing that Dean was safe and okay and that Lucifer didn't hurt him—that everyone was okay, that what he'd done by jumping into the cage had worked when he hadn't been sure, not at all, that it would—and he still doesn't really know how he got out but he'll get that out of Dean eventually—and he turns on the shower and smiles at the rickety jump of the hot water because, holy shit, he's alive to suffer Bobby's godawful shower—and he pulls the shirt off over his head, and unbuttons his jeans, and fishes in his pocket for his phone and his wallet like he always does—and finds a new phone that he doesn't recognize, which makes him frown, a wallet that he does, and—the amulet.

The air goes out of him. The shower's guttering down, getting warm at last. He hears Dean's voice through the door, saying something to Bobby although Sam doesn't know what. Sam twines the leather cord around his fingers and crushes the little metal head in his palm, standing there in his socks and boxers. He didn't lose it. Somehow he—hadn't thought about it, until now, but now that he has he just—assumed it'd be gone. He's not in the same clothes he was wearing before he fell, so—did Dean—? He doesn't know and in this second doesn't care. He brings his closed fist up to his mouth, the cord thin and worn against his lips. He breathes in, slow.

The last time he held it in his hand was—Detroit. Milkjugs of blood sitting in the trunk. Dean—somewhere, talking to Cas maybe, and Sam alone, and Sam was alone a lot then. It feels like yesterday. He'd felt distant somehow. Even if Dean had forgiven him, or at least had been willing to try to forgive him. Ever since the second he'd made the decision to say yes, and decided to make Dean agree, it was like he'd been one step outside his life, looking in. Watching Dean try to accept it and knowing Dean never would. Watching Dean, with his hands in his pockets, and his hand curled so hard around the amulet that the horned edge had actually cut into his palm and he'd bled, inside his jeans. Not minding that and squeezing it tighter. Reminding himself why what he was doing mattered so he wouldn't falter. He wasn't going to falter.

Lucifer had healed that little wound without even acknowledging it. Sam remembers that if nothing else. He opens his hand and he's made sore white marks where the edges of the demon-head have cut into his palm. The shower hisses, next to him, and there's a thump of the side of a fist against the door—"Hey, princess, don't take forever on the primping," Dean says, muffled, the idiot—christ, Sam loves him.

He looks up at the door, startled. Creak of floorboards outside, like Dean's just standing there. Sam blinks at the peeled paint, and calls back, "Dude, it's my first shower in a year, hold your horses," and Dean says, "Yeah, yeah," and Sam closes his hand around the amulet again, his chest—thick. He can't take a full breath. He stoops, and loops the amulet cord around itself three times, four, and tucks it back down into the deepest corner of the pocket of his jeans. He crouches there for a second, feeling—feeling. The steam in the air curls against his skin. He has to stand up. Take the shower, get into fresh clothes, get back out into the house, figure things out. Figure where the world is, after a year without him in it. He crouches there, instead, taking in air. There's a little spot on his jeans, he realizes. Worn, nearly white, where something's made a space for itself. You wouldn't notice the difference, if you saw it every day, but with a jump of time between the last time he wore these jeans and now—it's obvious.

Of course it was longer than a year. Of course there were things Dean didn't tell him. Soulless, Sam thinks, trying the word out by himself, when Castiel's left and Sam's waiting for Dean to get back with the sword. Soulless. Not—a good thing to be. He's pretty sure.

Things that are described as soulless: corporations, governments. His comparative philosophy professor in junior year. Soulless due to lack of consideration, due to lacking character, due to—what? Indifference. Cruelty.

When they got to Portland, Dean picked the motel by turning into a random parking lot off the highway, and Sam hauled most of their bags in because he could tell Dean was tired after all the driving, and he'd barely made it through blinking at the one king bed before the door slammed behind Dean and Dean hauled him around by the jacket and gripped his shirt and said low and fervent, Sammy, if you don't want to you're gonna have to knock me out, and Sam dropped the bags right there in the entrance and got his hand on Dean's face and dragged his thumb soft over Dean's pretty lower lip and felt how Dean tensed, and then how the tension spilled out of him like water.

He doesn't get it. He walked around, he was told, without a soul, for a year. More than a year. Castiel was very precise about it. He'd left Dean with Lisa and found his grandfather, instead—his grandfather!—and he'd hunted. When they came to Dean it was by accident, Castiel said, and then when Dean had started hunting with Sam it had seemed to be for convenience, rather than something that meant—anything. Shifters, alphas. Vampires. Castiel knew all of it and told Sam earnestly, not judging. Sam had tried to kill Bobby but it was all right, Castiel said, because Dean had gotten so fearful and sick that he'd let himself die, to speak to Death, to make Sam right. He would have died, if Sam hadn't gotten right. It had been worth that. It had been that bad.

There's a text, from Dean. Sorta got the sword. Back in 8 hrs. Want any sourdough?

Sorta? Sam chews his lip. Just the dragon-killing magic weapon, thanks, he texts back, and Dean texts him a :) and Sam puts down his phone and stands up from the table and wants to vomit. Jesus christ. Soulless, he thinks, again, and pulls the amulet out of his pocket, winding the cord around his knuckles, staring at it.

He kept it. Somehow, some way. A year and more. From however he got spit out of the cage, from looking at Dean and choosing to turn away from him, to having Dean back and treating him like—he shudders. His indifferent callous body, carving an efficient line through the world. Sam wants to remember and doesn't. He does want to know what the exact moment was like, when he stuck his hand in his pocket standing on a street under a flickering lamp, watching Dean through a window like a damn pervert, and felt the amulet skin-warmed and heavy against his skin, and thought—what?

He puts it back in his pocket. Eight hours, until Dean gets back. Sam drags his hand over his mouth. When he shifts he can feel it—a little, nagging weight, pressed against his thigh. A year and a half of that with no reason to keep it. With all the reason in the fucking world to keep it. He blows out air until his chest is empty. Eight hours. He'd better have something to show for it. He gets to work.

He remembers, of course, later. Fractured, incomplete. Three selves' memories colliding and sleepless nights with a monster whispering in his ear. He curls on his side in a too-warm bed and watches Dean, curled beside him, sleeping. Frowning in his sleep. Lucifer says, though Sam ignores him, "Imagine how much easier he'd have had it at Lisa's, right? Bet she wore sweet little nightgowns, too. Where's yours, Sammy?"

In the cage he hadn't worn the amulet around his neck, not like he had in the year of Dean's absence. Lucifer didn't allow that. Sometimes he would crouch alone in the dark while Lucifer and Michael fought and he'd get space to breathe although breathing there always felt like the coldest depth of a North Dakota January. Shards of ice in his throat. The air thin. The air, of course, not real, but no matter how much Sam's conscious brain tries to rationalize when he has a moment to think, the cage isn't a place for rationality. Lucifer throttles him and Sam knows distantly that his lungs aren't real but he chokes anyway. He chokes. The air whittled thin in his throat and the edges of his vision vignetting to black, to sparkle-shot oxygenless, uncertain—

He turns his head, gasps deep. "Aw, thought I had you there," he hears, and turns fully onto his back, and they didn't bother undressing tonight before Dean crashed miserably into the mattress so he's still got his jeans on, and he shoves his hand into his pocket and wraps his hand around the amulet and squeezes so hard the horned heavy edges tear into his thin unhealed skin and the pain—god, the pain, piercing, cleansing.

It hurts. The room's quiet, except for the rattle of the heater under the window. Dean's breath, at his side. Not quite a snore. Sam's bleeding. He can feel the bandage getting wet. He curls his hand tighter and fumbles in the dark. A hitch—Dean's baby snore, interrupted—and Sam goes shh, as soft as he physically can, and Dean huffs and turns over and puts his face on Sam's shoulder, and Sam squeezes his hip through his jeans very gently, settling down. Lucifer will be back, he knows. When it's worst. When he thinks he's nearly fallen asleep. When Dean wakes up, in the pre-dawn because he has to piss, and he leans in first and kisses Sam's jaw, rough and sleepy with his breath rank, when Sam loves him just—the absolute most—Lucifer will ruin it. Even if Sam knows it isn't real it's as predictable as it is gutting.

He pulls his fist out of his pocket, amulet included. Dean won't wake for—what time is it?—hours. He turns his head toward Dean's, presses his lips against the warmth of his hair. He settles his fist on his chest. If the blood spills—well, it won't be the first time Sam's lost a shirt to blood.

Taking the amulet out of the trash wasn't a decision, when he did it. When animals are cornered their lashing out is survival, nothing else. He kept it because—he had to keep it. It wasn't possible that it be left where it was. An indifferent housekeeper dumping it into the mixed refuse of a half-dozen rooms; a trip to a dumpster, and then a dump, to be lost. No.

They had—

Sam knew it didn't matter in the face of what came later but he still felt it. That day. Vermont, autumn. The leaves dark red in the setting sun, or red just because they were. Immaterial, with Dean's back against the tree and his face tipped up to Sam's. Shocked. Sam's fingers on his jaw and then trailing down his throat, hooking into the cord of the amulet and pulling, down, to the demon-head, and Dean letting that tiny insignificant weight tip him forward so he met Sam's mouth when Sam offered it. The bodywarm of it against Sam's thumb when Dean's lips touched his, and how his hand closed into a fist on instinct, shocked too.

Whatever betrayals had come later. Whatever misunderstandings and miseries. There was still that day, and all the days before. This solid thing that had marked Dean as Sam's brother, for all the months and years marching all the way back to that stupid, shitty Christmas morning, five a.m. cold and disappointing, and Sam making the first decision that was really his own that he'd ever made. Handing over the shitty little packet of a gift he hadn't picked, and Dean looking at him with this—rare, uncertain happiness. Not willing to take it, in case it'd be snatched away like everything else had been.

Maybe that hadn't been a decision either, in retrospect. It was Sam's first day, in a hunted life that wasn't one he'd chosen, and maybe that was just instinct. Looping something around Dean's throat and saying, please. Dean had taken it. Said yes. Tossing it in the trash, later—well, Sam didn't blame him, but and he understood if the yes was retracted, but—Sam couldn't let it go. Even if he was the only one who remembered. Even if, ever after, even if they hurt each other and found each other again and circled each other like twin stars in an uncertain orbit—even if they met, in a dark room, and Dean said to him soft and sorry, Sammy, I swear, and Sam dragged Dean's body over the top of his and took the weight and feel of him like a payment, due—even then. He kept the damn thing, quiet, and his.

It didn't even register, after a while. It transferred from jeans to duffle to backpack to jacket. Part of the morning pat-check, unthinking unless something was missing: phone wallet amulet keys. Amelia never asked about it. Gadreel never interfered with it. When Dean was a demon Sam got up every morning in an empty bed and took a shower and carefully lifted his sling over his head and being ready for the day meant sling wallet keys amulet phone list of contacts he hadn't burned through yet and it just—felt like part of him. He thought about it as much as he thought about his lung.

On the day that Dean almost killed him Sam got dressed without thinking because there were more important things than thinking, and he put on jeans and he put on his boots and he put on shirt, shirt, jacket, and he dragged his hand through his hair instead of combing it, and he put in his pockets keys phone amulet wallet and he stood there, then, in the total quiet of the bunker, and took the amulet back out of his pocket. He looked at it in his palm. Small, heavy. The cord looping back over his knuckles. Dean had had to get new ones, he remembered. The leather ones kept wearing through, because Dean wore it every second: sleeping, waking, in the shower. When they were in bed, and Sam folded Dean in close against his chest, and Dean's lips brushed his jaw, and Sam slipped careful fingers under the cord, worrying at it. If only he'd known, then, the things he had to worry about.

He put the amulet back in his pocket. He went to Dean's room, in the bunker, and found the pictures Dean didn't keep very well hidden, and flicked past the ones of them together until he found the one of their mother. That, maybe. That would work. It wasn't fair, that day, to try to pretend anything else would, and as far as what mattered more to Sam—that was his problem, he thought, and nothing that needed to bother Dean. It was important, he thought, to be realistic.

"Give us a minute," Dean says.

"Dean," Sam says, appalled.

Chuck—Chuck? Jesus christ—jesus christ! Sam thinks. Chuck looks entertained, standing there in his sneakers—his Chucks! Jesus christ!—and his jeans and his simple short body and how he's—he's—

"Dude, seriously," Dean says, impatient, and Chuck raises his hands like surrender and says, "Hey, no, I get it! You've got stuff to talk about! Just say my name when you're ready, we've got all the time in the world, I'm sure my sister isn't planning the imminent destruction of all creation," and he winks, and then—disappears, jesus christ because Chuck is GOD—

"Sammy," Dean says, firm.

"Dean," Sam says back, immediately, "what are you doing—holy shit, do you realize—"

"Sam," Dean says, in a different tone, and Sam's gut jolts, hooked. Diverted.

The bunker, quiet around them. They're in the map room and the lights are all on full, bright and warm. Dean's looking at him and Sam—they've been good, it's been good, for months and months—the best it's ever been, even better than those first heady days when they were learning each other, young and reckless—and even with all that, Sam's nervous, somehow.

"How you doing, Sammy," Dean says, eyes narrow.

Sam lets out a sharp breath.

Dean seems surprised at the lack of answer and his chin tips up. He looks at Sam steadily. Sam doesn't know what he's supposed to say and so stays silent, and Dean keeps looking at him and then slides his hand into his pocket, and pulls out—of course.

He holds it low, in front of himself, dangling from two fingers. The heavy pendulum sway. Dean's eyes are low, fixed on it, but Sam's watching Dean's face.

There are obvious things to say that Dean doesn't say and Sam's grateful for it. "You took the other one," is what Dean says, and he doesn't look up to see Sam frown confusion but he must sense it, somehow, because he continues: "From that—jesus, Sam. From that play, that the girls put on. When I came out to the car the next morning it was gone. Doesn't seem fair. You got the prop and the real thing, both."

"Sorry," Sam says, and Dean says, "Christ," and takes the three long steps across the room to where Sam's got his back to a pillar and kisses him. Sam takes it, breathing in. Not soft, not that giving sweet that Dean can be, but it's Dean's mouth and therefore it's a miracle, every time.

Dean pulls back. His brow rolls against Sam's, brief, and then he sets down from where he lifted up on his toes, and he looks at Sam from six inches, their hips pressed together. The amulet swings against Sam's stomach, from where Dean's hands are fisted on his sternum.

"Sammy," Dean says, and Sam takes a deep breath and says, "I didn't mean to keep it—secret."

It's a lie and a bad one. He doesn't know why he said it that way but he doesn't know a truer one. He didn't—make a decision about it. It was just that…

Dean doesn't call him on it. "You said," he starts, and then his cheek sucks in on one side. Sam notices for the first time how tired his eyes are. It was a long day. The fog and the people they couldn't save. He folds one hand over one of Dean's, pressed against his chest, and Dean's eyes dip, and maybe that makes it easy enough because Dean says, "Sam, I wouldn't choose her."

Sam takes a deep breath. Their hands rise, all knotted together. Dean says, "It kills me, Sammy. That you think I'd—but I wouldn't. If it were any choice, if I could—make it how I wanted it to be. I wouldn't, not fuckin' once," and Sam says, "I know," just to stop Dean from talking, with his voice thickening up that way.

God's somewhere, waiting in the wings. Sam doesn't give a shit, anymore. Dean's mouth turns up at one corner but it's not happy, and Sam slides his free hand up Dean's side, gripping through his jacket, trying. However he knows how to try. "I know," he says, again, because—christ, he does. That nasty awful fog doesn't get to take this from him. "Dean, I told you before. Whatever she makes you—think, or do. I got it. I can handle it."

Dean bites his lips between his teeth and he looks down. His thumb catches the swinging cord of the amulet. "You know," Dean says, echoing. A question, buried down in it.

He hasn’t said it, specifically, out loud or internally or even when he prayed, back when he thought that praying was something that mattered, but: Sam hates Amara. Hates every aspect of her, baby to adult to imagined vision to physical manifestation to the haunted look, in Dean's eye, when he thinks Sam isn't looking. Hates how she makes Dean doubt. Hates how she makes Dean afraid. Hates every fragment of her that draws Dean's attention away, makes him look into the shadows of the room, makes him weak and afraid of his own weakness. In their bed at night Dean lays awake and Sam is awake with him and he thinks—how can he prove it? How can he show Dean how much he wants to take this burden away—to make it so the darkness is nothing that could come between them?

"Sam," Dean says. "You're…"

Nothing goes there. What could? Sam slides his hand from Dean's side up to the back of Dean's neck, cupping his skull, holding. He ducks his head. His temple against Dean's temple, Dean's breath against his throat. He closes his eyes and reaches and finds the amulet, dangling, on his first try. Luck. He gathers it into his palm and knocks Dean's fist open and closes their hands together, fisted around the sharp little weight of it. Any other day Dean would make a crack about holding hands.

Sam says, "I kept it because I wanted you. It wasn't your fault that things went bad. Or, I don't know. Half yours and half mine. Or maybe it was destiny's fault—fate, or something. It doesn't matter. What mattered was—how you stuck with me. How we—figured it out, every time. No matter how crappy it got, or how much we didn't trust each other, or… Because it's us, right? Every time. It's us, no matter what. I knew that on days I didn't know anything else. Nothing's going to take that away. Not the Darkness. Not God."

True. Dean's temple tips, against his. Their stubble drags together. "Not even the big guy, huh?" he says. Frail. "Seem pretty sure of yourself, there."

"I am," Sam says, not joking, and hears the breath Dean takes in. He squeezes their hands together, squeezes the back of Dean's neck.

"Shit," Dean says, and lets out a fraction of a laugh. "I wish I..."

He shakes his head, tipping away from Sam. Sam looks at his profile. The sweep of his eyelashes. His nose, with the little broken tilt. His jaw, squared. Sam bites the inside of his cheek and then lets go of Dean's neck, and folds their hands together all in a square—Dean's hand over Sam's over Dean's over Sam's—and when he unfolds them the amulet's caught in Dean's palm, and Sam folds his fingers over Dean's fist and pushes it, down, tucking it neat into Dean's jacket pocket. Dean blinks at him.

"I don't need a reminder," Sam says. Echo of something that feels like forever ago, surprisingly—now—true. "I'll be right here. No matter what. I swear."

He lets go of Dean's fist and slides up his arm, holding his shoulder instead. Dean looks back and forth between his eyes. "Thank you, Sam," he says, serious.

Sam nods. Dean looks up into his eyes, and then at his mouth, and when he leans for the kiss Sam responds simply, holding him and trying to say—everything there is to say. There could never be enough time, to say all there is to say.

Dean pulls back, after a few seconds. Not nearly enough. Their noses brush together and Dean's hands are on his chest, heavy. The amulet in his pocket. Where it belongs, Sam thinks, but it doesn't—matter, the same way it did before. It's not tying Dean to him; it's not a relic of a promise, broken and then kept. He touches Dean's jaw, with his thumb, and Dean sighs against him.

"Guess we should call him back," Dean says. "You think he knows we totally made out just now?"

Sam groans, and pushes Dean away, and catches him smiling. "You're totally going to hell," he says, and Dean winks at him, and turns away, and calls out, "Yo, Chuck!" like he's calling the literal creator for a dinner of hot wings, and Sam would despair but Dean's hand is in his pocket, and—well, they're okay, so. It's okay.

#ffcc #wincest #samulet fic #my writing

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americancowgirl19 · 4 years

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Mutant not Monster - Part Three

Part Three: Sam falls into the cage leaving Dean to think he’s lost his brother forever. Wanting to honor his brother’s last wishes, Dean goes to Y/n.

Summary: Y/n and her twin brother, Warren, are both mutants. In a world where mutants aren’t accepted, Y/n and her brother have to go on the run as anti-mutant extremists begin hunting their kind down. Sam and Dean are hunters, just not mutant hunters. However, their paths cross and despite a rocky beginning they become allies against not only the war against mutants but the war against mankind.

Warnings: angst, fluff, talk about character death

Reader: Female Reader; Y/n Worthington

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,181

Part Two

Masterlist

2010 - Y/n POV - Reader is 30

“Storm’s sending me to Baltimore. She thinks that there’s a group of mutants laying low just outside the city,” I tell my brother through the phone.

“Be careful. Baltimore has the highest mutant fatalities,” Warren warns.

“I know, that’s why we have to get them out of there and somewhere safe,” I said as I continue packing.

“Why don’t you wait a few more days?” Warren suggests. “I’ll be back by then and we can go together,”

“I’ll be fine, Warren. I’ll be in and out before anyone blinks,” I promise. Warren sighs obviously not liking this plan but not being able to do anything about it.

Suddenly my doorbell rings and there’s heavy knocking on the door.

“Look, I gotta go. I’ll text you when I get to Baltimore,” I said zipping my bag up. I grab the straps and carry out of my room.

“Alright, fine,” Warren mutters. “Don’t try to be a hero, if you have to leave Baltimore before you find anybody then leave,” Warren says sternly. “Come back to base, get reinforcements and then try again,”

“I know the drill, Warren,” I say. “This isn’t my first assignment on my own. I’ll text you, be safe coming back,” I say before hanging up. I toss my back to the side before opening the door. “Dean?” I ask seeing the tall hunter standing on my welcome mat.

It’s been a few months since I’ve seen Dean but only about a week since I last heard from him. Over the past few years Dean and I have been through a lot. I’ve helped him hunt the supernatural while he’s helped me find mutants. I’ve worked with him against Lucifer whiles he’s worked with me against anti-mutant extremists like the Sapien League. Of course, Sam’s been right with Dean the entire time but my relationship with the younger brother isn’t quite like the one I have with Dean.

I see Sam as a brother but Dean’s always been different. Dean has a way of ruffling my feathers and making my heart jump like no one else can. I’ve never met someone who can piss me off to high heaven yet still turn me on and make me blush.

There’s always been an understanding between Dean and I. We’ve never talked about it but we both knew we could feel this unspoken thing between us. However, we also knew that with the lives we lived, we wouldn’t be able to act on our feelings. We travel far too much and we both live day by day.

Although, that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about the perfect future. An ‘apple pie life’ as Dean likes to call it. A life where I don’t have to worry about being killed on the street because of the wings on my back. A life where Dean doesn’t have to go from town to town hunting dangerous creatures. A life just for us with Warren and Sam close but not too close.

That’s all it was though, a fantasy.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” I whisper.

This isn’t the first time Dean Winchester has appeared on my doorstep. Usually it’s at some ungodly hour but this is the first time he’s shown up with red, puffy eyes.

“Sammy...” Dean chokes out. My heart stops. “Sammy’s...” His head hangs. He doesn’t need to finish. My mouth drops slightly. I’m frozen for a moment but I snap out of it when Dean sniffles. I grab his arm and pull him inside. My foot kicks the door closed and my arms hug him close.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper tightening my grip around him. Dean buries his head in the crook of my neck. I can feel his tears falling on my skin. My wings instinctively wrap around him as I try to provide as much comfort and security as I can. “Shh, I’ve got you,” I whisper combing my fingers through his hair when his grip suddenly tightens. I kiss his shoulder lightly prepared to hold him for as long as it takes.

2010 - Y/n POV - Reader is 30

“Here,” I say softly. Dean takes the coffee from my hands as I sit across from him at the kitchen table. “Why are you here, Dean?” I ask. His eyes flicker up to me. “Shouldn’t you be with Bobby? Or trying to find a way to get Sam back?” I ask him.

“Sam didn’t want me bringing him back,” Dean says. “He wants me to move on, stop hunting,” Dean tells me. “Try the... Apple pie life,” I tense slightly.

“Dean...” I whisper. “I can’t stop,” I tell him. “There’s still mutants out there that need to be found and protected,”

“And I’ve helped you before,” Dean says.

“Yeah, but it’s not the apple pie life, Dean,” I shake my head. “My life isn’t much different from yours, just a different agenda and a different enemy. It’s still dangerous,”

“I know,” Dean sighs slowly. “But... I’d be with you,” He says looking at me. I stay quiet for a moment and stare into his eyes trying to decipher what he’s trying to say. For so long we just didn’t talk about moving forward between us.

“Maybe you should take some time to yourself, Dean,” I whisper. “If you want the apple pie life, you won’t find it with me. Not right now, at least,”

“Guess I’ll just have to be patient then,” Dean says forcing a small smile. I mimic it. “Do you mind if I stay for a few days?”

“You’re always welcome here,” I tell him. “You can stay for as long as you want,” I assure him.

“Thanks,” He says before clearing his throat. His eyes flicker towards the door. “Were you going somewhere?” He asks noticing my bag.

“Baltimore,” I tell him. “Same assignment, different city,”

“But Baltimore-” Dean says, his eyes filling with concern.

“I know,” I cut him off.

“Maybe I can come with you,” Dean suggests.

“I’ll be fine, Dean,” I promise. “It’s a quick in and out. I’ll be back in three days. Warren will be here in two. Just stick around here and find something to do. I’m sure Baby needs to be worked on. Hell, work on my car, God knows it needs something done to it,” I tell him knowing that I was taking my brothers car to Baltimore seeing that he left town with Bobby.

“If you need help-”

“I’ll call you,” I reassure him. Dean gives me a small smile. Reaching across the table, I grab his hand. “Don’t worry about me, Dean. I can handle this. Just worry about yourself, alright?” Dean holds my gaze as he turns his hand in mine until he’s holding it.

2010 - Y/n POV - Reader is 30

As I expected, the trip to Baltimore was successful. It didn’t go as smooth as I had hoped but at least I was able to find the mutants Storm had sent me to find and bring them back to base.

When I returned home I saw Warren and Dean bonding over cars. I was relieved to see Dean smiling and continuing on with life. However, I could still see the heartbreak and sadness in his eyes throughout the day, especially at night. I knew it would take more than a couple of days for Dean to not only come to terms with Sam’s eternal imprisonment but to be able to heal from losing his brother.

Life for Dean didn’t exactly get easier as the months passed but he got set in a routine. He stayed with me at my place and helped look after the mutants. He became the unofficial head mechanic in our area. The small jobs kept him busy.

Every couple of weeks I would have to leave for either diplomacy purposes or undercover missions. However, when I was home, it certainly felt as if I was living an apple pie life.

Dean would go to work every day and come home around the same time. We would talk about anything and everything. Warren would often join us but it was nice when it was just Dean and I.

Tonight, Warren was off on his own leaving Dean and I to ourselves. Dean’s still out working on cars while I cook us some dinner. It’s nothing fancy but it’s better than takeout.

When Dean finally came home, I was putting dinner on the table as I worked through my second glass of wine. Dean greeted me as he went into the fridge for a beer.

“This look delicious,” Dean grinned sitting at the table.

“I’m just happy I didn’t have to use the fire extinguisher,” I smirked.

“I’m proud of you,” He teases with a wink causing my smile to broaden. A few moments later he began to jabber on and on about what happened at work. It made me smile to hear him talking so fondly of the other mutants. I was relieved that he got along with them so well. I was also glad to see that he wasn’t pushing everyone away and shutting down like I had expected him too. I wish he would talk to his friend/father figure Bobby but I also didn’t want to push him.

At the end of dinner I put the dishes in the sink while Dean opened another beer. I began washing while he took his place beside me to dry. A small smile came to my lips at the domestic vibe between us.

When the dishes were done I continued to wipe down the counter. Dean disappeared behind me. I didn’t think anything of it until I felt his hands. His fingertips brushed against the black feathers on my wings. I could feel them twitch and push against his hand in response.

His fingers gently groom through them. I shudder slightly as he reaches more sensitive areas. The thought of telling him to stop, to step away never crossed my mind. I didn’t want him to stop. It felt good. Calming.

Slowly, his hands travel from my wings to my back. He drags his fingers down my spine. I grip the countertop tightly not fully registering just how much his touch is affecting me. His large, calloused hands cover my hips. His fingers dig into my skin as he steps up against my back.

“Dean...” I whisper. He hums just as quietly as his head dips to my shoulder. My eyes close as his lips press against my skin. His nose glides against my neck before he presses his lips just behind my ear.

“Y/n...” He whispers back. I don’t even notice myself leaning against his chest until his arms wrap around my waist. “You’re so beautiful,” He whispers to me.

“Wings and all?” I ask tentatively. His hug tightens.

“Wings and all,” He confirms slipping his hands under my shirt. He doesn’t attempt to take it off but the skin-on-skin contact if comforting. “You’re perfect,” He states leaning his head against mine. “I wouldn’t want you any other way,”

“Flirt,” I tease causing him to grin.

“Is it working?” He questions.

“It always works,” I whisper back grinning widely when he kisses the side of my head.

“Sam told me I needed to man up and get you before someone else snatched you up,” Dean confesses, his arms tightening at the mention of his brother. I gently caress his forearms feeling a little happy that Dean was starting to talk about Sam on his own.

“I’ve been yours for years, Dean,” I tell him. “I don’t want anyone else,”

“Good,” Dean says massaging my hips with his hands. I grin as he begins to sway us. I lift my hand up and back to his head. My finger thread through his hair. “I don’t want you to be anyone else’s,” I lean my head back and turn it towards him.

“Are you going to hold me all night or are you going to kiss me?” I ask quietly.

“I’d love to do both,” Dean mutters before closing the gab between us. I grin turning in his arms. Dean instantly pushes me against the counter as my wings curl around him. The both of us hold the other tightly. “God, I shoulda done that when you saved my ass in the woods,” He whispers thinking back to our third meeting.

“Well, You were too busy being a stubborn asshole,” I tease and Dean smirks chuckling a bit.

“Well, I’ve got you now,” He whispers tenderly caressing my face.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise leaning against his hand. He presses into me more as his hand on my hip tightens.

“You better not,” He whispers. My heart clenches as I see the fear and concern in his eyes.

“I’m right here, Dean,” I whisper to him. “Just stay with me. Don’t worry about the future, don’t think about the past. Just stay with me, in this kitchen, for a little longer,”

“I can do that,” He whispers with a small smile.

“Good,” I whisper pulling his lips back to mine.

@akshi8278 @shipshipshipau

A/n - I had planned on moving on with this little series but right now I think I’m going to leave it end like that. I don’t think I’m going to continue with a part four. I hope you all enjoyed it though!

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haileyyanneupton · 4 years

Text

🍷drunk🍷

HAILEY UPTON X JAY HALSTEAD

UPSTEAD AU ONESHOT

masterlist | series masterlist

prompt: you’re drunk and walked into the wrong apartment and fell asleep on my couch. oh god, you’re going to be so confused in the morning

Hailey wasn’t one to drink more than a beer or two when she was out at a bar, but tonight she was alone, kind of sad, and ready to forget the events of the last few days. She had just broken it off with her boyfriend who of course refused to leave the apartment that they had been splitting the rent on for the last two years, leaving her somewhat stranded. Working out where she was going to sleep tonight sounded like a problem for future Hailey as she made her way into the bar and planted herself on a barstool, calling for a glass of whiskey as she took a swig from it and the liquid burned on the way down. One whiskey turned into six and eventually, Hailey was wandering the streets trying to work out exactly where her best friend Vanessa’s apartment was. Was it smart? No. But what other choice did she have?

Eventually, she made her way to what she was sure was Vanessa’s apartment, pulling a bobby pin from her hair to pick the woman’s lock. Somehow, even in her inebriated state, she still managed to successfully work out how to get inside, having enough sense to re-lock the door before collapsing on the couch. She was tired and she knew Vanessa wouldn’t mind once she learned about what her asshole ex had done; he wouldn’t even let her go back to get her things. Hailey was just trying to forget about him and go to sleep for the night as she collapsed onto the couch.

Jay had been asleep in his bed when he heard the squeaking of his front door and light footsteps on the floorboards of his second level apartment. At first he thought that it was his imagination, though his paranoia still got the best of him as he searched for an object he would be able to use to defend himself with. Slowly but surely, he tiptoed his way to his bedroom door and allowed it to swing open just wide enough for him to see the rest of his apartment in full view, his brows falling into a puzzled v shape.

On his couch was a blonde haired woman, her beauty still preserved in her semi-comatose state as she slept softly.

Jay couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. So, he wasn’t imagining things, but it was suddenly very, very clear to him that he was under no threat — despite the fact that she had totally committed a felony by breaking into his apartment. Sighing lightly in relief, he scurried back to shove the baseball bad he had been holding in his hands back underneath his bed and pulled one of the blankets from his bed, draping it over his arm as he headed out to his living room where the woman was sleeping. Her eyes — though they were closed — looked slightly puffy as though she had been crying, leaving Jay to frown sadly; he had always been deeply empathetic — the sight of anybody else being sad tugged at his heartstrings every time.

Ensuring he was as quiet and gentle as he possibly could be, he threw the blanket hanging from his arm over the woman and lifted her head up ever so slightly to slide a pillow beneath it, the smell of alcohol helping him put the pieces together as he frowned yet again — he was sure she was going to be so confused and probably even a bit frightened when she eventually woke up in the morning. Racking his brain for an idea as to how he could soften the blow for the woman when she awoke from her peaceful slumber, he went over to where his makeshift office was and pulled a piece of paper and a pen from his drawer, jotting down a quick note and leaving it on the coffee table before retiring back to his bed for the night.

🍷🍷🍷🍷

As Hailey blinked her eyes open the next morning, three things happened one after another another like a chain reaction.

First was the realisation of everything that happened in the last twenty four hours. The breakup with her boyfriend, the whole 'drinking her body weight in whiskey’ situation, and the whole 'having to crash at Vanessa’s apartment’ thing. She groaned as (most) of her memories flooded back to her.

Next was the realisation that she actually wasn’t in Vanessa’s apartment at all. The walls weren’t the same shade of white as Vanessa’s were, the couch was a black leather rather than the bright red one that her best friend had, and she was sure that Vanessa hadn’t suddenly changed the entire layout of her apartment. Sitting up, she took in her surroundings with a sense of panic washing over her as she spotted the piece of paper sitting on the coffee table, addressed in a way that inadvertently bought a smile to her lips.

To the really pretty girl asleep on my couch,

I know you’re probably really freaked out right now, but let me explain.

My name is Jay, and when you read this I’m probably hiding in my bedroom so that I don’t scare you. But anyway, you picked my lock last night and crashed on my couch. I don’t know who you are but you looked kind of sad and I could tell you probably had a few drinks, so I just put a blanket over you to keep you warm and figured it was lucky you picked the lock of the guy who finds this kind of hilarious rather than the guy next door who either would have shot first and asked questions later or the guy downstairs who calls the cops every time someone knocks at his door.

If you want to come and say hi or whatever, just come knock on my door. I’ll be awake. Unless you’re up before 8am, which I figure is pretty unlikely.

Anyway.

If you want to come say hi, come to my bedroom door. If you want to escape and pretend this never happened, that’s cool too. Completely up to you.

I hope this isn’t creepy or anything. I just thought that you were probably safer here in my apartment than wandering the street during the night which is why I let you be.

Sincerely, Guy-who-is-trying-to-do-the-right-thing-here (also known as Jay).

Finally, the third thing happened. The regret and embarrassment came washing over Hailey like a wave as she fell back onto the pillow behind her head, gluing her eyes closed as she let out a huff. This could not be happening. It had to be a dream, right? How could so many unpleasant things happen in such a short amount of time?

Hailey was just about ready to get up and scurry out of the apartment with her tail between her legs when she glanced back down to the note that the owner of the apartment — Jay — had left her. He seemed like a nice guy, and it wouldn’t be fair to him if she didn’t at least offer up a thank you. The silence in the apartment echoed through her head, the tension on her side of the door evident as she carefully peeled the blanket off of her legs and folded it up neatly, placing it down on the end of the couch. Every move she made was methodically planned out and meticulously executed — for what, she didn’t know.

She had always been the brave one. The first one to step up to a challenge no matter how big or small, the first one to speak up and be completely unapologetic about it, too. It wasn’t at all like Hailey to be standing there the way she was, pacing back and forth slightly as her fingers drummed against her thigh, yet here she was. In a stranger’s apartment. After literally committing a crime while blind drunk and now having one of the worst hangovers she’s ever experienced (which, by the way, she was sure was only being worsened by the the previous facts).

Forcing herself to muster up the courage, Hailey marched herself over to the bedroom door and knocked twice, immediately feeling her heart drop as every inch of her body wanted to bolt. Still, she kept her feet planted on the spot as she and the man behind the door suddenly came face to face. Hailey felt the wind being knocked out of her, their eyes meeting at the same time that she attempted to force out a million words.

“I am so, so sorry,” she said quickly, not giving the man a chance to respond as he instead stared at her with a lopsided smirk. Hailey was so in her own head that she hadn’t even gotten the chance to appreciate how remarkably attractive the man was, instead jumping to her own explanation. “I was drunk and I thought this was my best friends apartment. I didn’t have anywhere else to go because my asshole ex-boyfriend has decided to claim the apartment that I pay rent on and I just collapsed on the couch and I am —“

“Okay, breathe,” Jay smirked lightly, finding amusement in the woman’s rambling. “You don’t need to apologise — it’s cool. How about we start with a name, huh? I’m Jay, but. . . you already know that.”

“Hailey,” the woman answered. “My name is Hailey. Although you can refer to me as idiot, felon, dumbass, or all of the above if you so wish.”

Jay chuckled lightly — she was funny. He hadn’t expected that, though he wasn’t sure why. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll stick with Hailey.”

Hailey gave a halfhearted smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Anyway — I just wanted to say thank you. I’ll get out of your apartment now, and I swear you’ll never see me again or —“

“Wait, you don’t have to rush out if you don’t want to,” Jay’s words came off cooler than what they felt like for him. Internally he was screaming for her to stay, partly because she was even more beautiful now that she was awake and he just wanted to stare at her forever even though he knew absolutely nothing about her. She was intriguing — that lured the man in as if he was a sailor being called to an echoing siren, soft and smooth yet piercing too, all at the same time. “Do you want something to eat? What about some Advil, or I could drive you to your friend’s place — better yet I’ll go and kick your asshole ex out of the apartment.”

The blonde-haired woman chuckled lightly. “No, no, it’s okay. Would I. . . uh. . . would I be able to wash my face in your bathroom really quick, please? I won’t be long, I just — I normally take a shower in the mornings and —"

“Oh, you can totally take a shower!” Jay said incredulously, opening up his door wide enough for the girl to come into his bedroom as he pointed towards the ensuite bathroom a few steps away.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“I can pull something out of the closet!”

Hailey smiled gratefully up at the man as she thanked him, heading to the bathroom as Jay laid out an oversized hoodie and a pair of track pants on the bed. Heading out to the kitchen, Jay figured starting on something resembling breakfast was a good idea, even if the very pretty girl in his apartment wasn’t going to have anything. The sound of the shower running in the background mixed in with the sizzling of eggs on the frypan that Jay had probably only used enough times for him to count on one hand as he stirred them around, grabbing out two plates before splitting what he had made in half.

With her perfect timing, just as Jay placed down the plate on a small table by one of the only windows in his apartment, Hailey reemerged from the bedroom. The hoodie he had left for her hung down to her knees and the sweatpants she had on were at least two sizes too big, but even with her dripping wet locks and bare face, she was just as beautiful as ever.

“I — uh — I made eggs.” Jay stumbled across his words as he gestured towards the plate. “I hope I’m not overstepping or anything. I just thought that since I was making some already for myself. . .”

“You’re not overstepping,” Hailey smiled gently, his hesitation bringing a chuckle to escape her lips. “I was just naked in your apartment — I feel like this is probably acceptable, regardless of how I got here. I learned how to pick locks when I was like, fourteen and let’s just say I’ve used it way more times than I care to admit.”

Jay let out a laugh as Hailey sat down, the two deciding to become acquainted with one another. She learned that he was a doctor for Veteran’s Affairs while she was a social worker working out of children’s services — she hadn’t exactly pegged him for the doctor type, what with his unbelievably good looks (that she was now able to appreciate) and all. Hailey listened intently as he told stories of his time overseas from when he himself had served, and although she could see the slight pain on his features as he recalled some of those memories, there was something about Hailey that allowed him to speak his mind to her without any inhibitions. He had never experienced anything like it.

Before they knew it, hours had passed. Hours of them spilling their guts about the most insignificant things that made up who each of them who they were. Hours spilling their guts about the tiniest details that neither of them would ever forget.

“Thank you again, Jay.” Hailey stood at the door, her clothes from the night before sitting in a plastic bag that Jay had offered the woman as they said their goodbyes. “You’re a really good guy. I’m glad I broke into your apartment.”

Jay couldn’t help but laugh, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants as his eyes cast downwards, nervous in anticipation. “I was thinking. . . “

“Mmm?”

“Uhm — Listen, Hailey . . . I really had a good time talking to you over breakfast. Would you maybe — uh — you don’t have to say yes but — maybe you’d want to do it again? I know this pizza shop — Bartoli’s — they have the best deep dish in town.”

Hailey’s lips curled upwards — she thought he’d never ask.

“You know what, Jay? I think I’d like that. I think I’d like that a lot."

thank you to @ruzek-halstead for editing and proofreading! 🥰

(i just used the tags from one of my other oneshots bc it’s usually the same people who wanna be tagged 🥰)

#chicago pd #one chicago #au #hailey upton #jay halstead #vanessa rojas #upstead

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lost-andfound · 4 years

Text

CARRY ON (How Supernatural Should Have Ended)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041390

INT. VAMP NEST BARN. NIGHT.

A VAMPIRE has just impaled DEAN on a nail. It is suggested that he is about to die. There are two flickering light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The barn looks uncannily similar to the barn in which Dean and CASTIEL first met.

Dean chokes, blood pooling from his mouth. His eyes are glassy and fighting to stay open. SAM’s eyes are filled with tears--he can’t believe it.

DEAN (coughing, trying to speak through the pain) I thought— dammit, man, I thought this was our chance. A chance at a real life.

SAM (truly, genuinely, painfully) I’m sorry.

Sam’s hand hovers around the wound, as if trying to cure it. Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t want to die, but he’s past the point of no return.

DEAN (gently) Sammy— everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve lost— I’m glad it was with you.

SAM (starting to panic) No, Dean, no—

DEAN (breathing slower, but doing his best to look his brother in the eyes) I didn’t wanna die. I didn’t. Promise me you know that.

Sam nods. He can’t speak. He wishes— he prays— but no one comes. Dean’s head goes slack in Sam’s hand. His eyes are empty. He’s dead. The camera PANS slowly to Sam’s stunned face.

SAM Dean. (He waits for an answer, but none comes.) Dean, please.

Behind, there is a flutter of wings. The light bulbs blow out, glass shattering on the ground. Sam freezes, hoping against all odds—

CASTIEL (firmly, as if with all the power of Heaven on his side) No one dies today.

Without further ado, he grasps Dean’s body and pulls him off the nail. Sam winces at the sound, but Castiel does not flinch. He grips Dean by the shoulder and puts his hand over the wound. An unearthly blue light— the light of angelic Grace— flows from his hands, shines from his eyes. It is not the healing we’ve seen before— this power seems to come from the deepest part of Cas himself.

A beat. Sam stares, tense, hoping. Cas steps back, and Dean gasps.

SAM (with deep relief) Thank God.

DEAN (exhausted, yet still wise-cracking) That asshole ain’t to thank for this one, Sammy.

He sways, and Sam rushes to hold him up. Dean looks at Cas, who is, as usual, unreadable.

CAS Hello, Dean.

DEAN (softer) Cas. Jesus, you’re— you’re here.

CAS (with a slight smile, hardly believing it himself) Jack. He came for me.

Dean’s smile falters. He glances at Sam— they both feel guilty for leaving Cas behind. Castiel catches this look, and is about to speak, but winces. A curl of blue Grace floats from his mouth, winding into the air and vanishing like smoke.

SAM (concerned) Cas— are you okay?

Cas stumbles, falling to brace himself on the wall. Both Sam and Dean reach out to grab his arms on either side.

CAS (looking between them, suddenly weak) I think— I think I’m falling again.

BLACKOUT.

END OF ACT TWO

ACT THREE

INT. BUNKER - KITCHEN - MORNING

With a WIDE SHOT, we see that Dean is making eggs this time, with less spirit than the last morning. He slices peppers and onions with precision, but we can tell that he is worried, his brow furrowing as he sprinkles them in the pan.

Sam sits at the table, flipping through a huge, ancient tome. A stack of books rests next to him, waiting to be studied. Cas is not at the table, a noted absence.

Dean flips the omelet off the pan and onto a plate, setting it in front of Sam, who barely looks up.

DEAN (demanding) So?

SAM (looking up apologetically) I don’t know. I think it’s something to do with The Empty— sapping his grace, somehow. Saving you probably took a lot of mojo.

DEAN (muttering sarcastically, as usual) Great.

INT. CASTIEL’S ROOM

Castiel sleeps, his face serene. Morning light spills in through the window, the drapes gently fluttering. It’s a beautiful scene, almost like a painting. The song “THANK YOU” by Led Zeppelin begins to PLAY. PAN TO Dean in the doorway, awkwardly holding a plate of eggs and mug of black coffee. Dean’s face is softer than we’ve seen it in a long time. He hesitates, not wanting to disturb his friend.

CAS (sleepily) Dean?

The music fades, but remains in the background of the scene.

DEAN (gruffly) Mornin’, sunshine.

Dean moves to sit on the bed, a respectful distance away from Castiel. He sets the plate and mug on the bedside table. Castiel shifts into a sitting position. Dean looks at Cas, and we think he is about to speak— he thinks he is about to speak— but he remains silent. Cas merely looks back at him, at the face he thought he’d never see again. The awkwardness is mostly on Dean’s side, which is not a surprise. Castiel seems content to merely look.

DEAN (eventually) So, are you… human now? For real this time?

CAS (eyes flickering briefly) Yes. I believe so.

DEAN (gearing himself up to be angry, to find a solution) Okay. Well— we’ll fix it. Find some spare grace, find a spell to restore your grace, whatever. We always do.

CAS (sighing) Dean—

DEAN (a little heat to his voice) Dammit, Cas, let us help you. You saved my skin at the cost of your own for the hundredth time and— and I won’t let you do that. Not again. No one dies this time, remember?

CAS Dean, you’re not gonna find anything. Not this time. And I’m— (he pauses, smiling slightly. He looks calm, at peace.) I’m happy. And I can say that now, without fear. I can feel. That’s all I’ve wanted, for so long.

There is a pause. Dean swipes a hand over his face and shifts closer on the bed. There is so much left unsaid, between these two, and it hangs heavy in the air.

Dean (voice ragged) Cas. What you said. Before the Empty took you.

CAS (steadily, without hesitation) I meant it.

DEAN I’ve wanted to say it back. For so long, Cas. But I— I didn’t think— I mean, you were an angel, and there was Lisa, then Purgatory, and the Mark, and Chuck, and everything against us— it was never right, and I never thought you felt— (he breaks off, swallowing.) I never thought you could. Love me, I mean.

Cas says nothing, but laces his fingers with Dean’s. Dean looks down, stunned, then back up at Castiel’s face.

CAS But I do. Against all odds, I do.

Dean kisses him. “Thank You” by Led Zeppelin resumes. Cas pulls him in, closer. It is a beautiful, tender kiss, a movie kiss. After a moment, they break apart, still holding hands.

DEAN (slightly embarrassed, yet as unguarded as we’ve ever seen him) I love you too, Cas. I always have— you’re family.

CAS (softly, as if this moment is one he could break) So what now?

DEAN (his voice opening, finally, into hope) The rest of our lives, man. Everything that comes after.

PAN OUT, as they move into a tight, intimate hug. They’re family. The camera moves from them to the window. The curtains. The soft light outside.

INT. BUNKER - KITCHEN

Sam sits at the table, hands in his hair, still poring over the books. His plate is empty— Dean is a good cook. He is unaware of the conversation his brothers are having inside Castiel’s room. There is a CRASH. Sam sits instantly alert— there are those killer instincts. He grabs a gun and creeps slowly towards the entrance, where he finds… EILEEN. She stands at the entrance, confused, looking around. Sam keeps the gun trained on her, grief and rage and confusion flitting across his face.

EILEEN Sam?

SAM (speaking with certainty) You’re not her. You can’t be her. No one ever really comes back, no one that I— that I—

EILEEN Sam, it’s me. I promise.

She pulls out a silver knife, slashes it on her arm. She lets Sam pour some holy water on her hand. She goes through every test, staring at Sam’s face, willing him to believe her.

SAM (disbelieving) Holy crap. It’s you. It’s really you.

EILEEN (smiling) Duh.

Sam sweeps her into his arms, as if he’ll never let her go. She holds onto him just as tightly. In the same moment, they both realize how lucky they are to be here, together.

“CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON” begins to PLAY.

CUT TO MONTAGE:

Dean hunting with Charlie and Cas, watching their backs as they move through a dark tunnel.

Sam and Eileen sharing a beer as they watch a movie, the lights flickering on their faces.

Dean throwing popcorn and Monopoly pieces at Sam, chasing him around the living room as Sam raises his arms in protest.

Cas and Dean washing dishes together, bumping shoulders and hands, smiling.

Eileen holding a newborn child as Dean, Sam, and Cas all crowd around her— someone takes a picture.

PAN UP from that picture on a table to an older Sam, reading in the study while his son reads next to him, a picture of his father.

Cas playing catch in the yard with Claire, who is clearly indulging him. His brow furrows as he drops the ball again and again, Dean laughing from the porch.

An older Dean finally perfecting his pie recipe, passing the plate around the dinner table, looking pleased with himself. Contented.

Sam’s son goes off to college, and Dean takes a breath, and claps a hand on his shoulder. Smiles proudly at him.

Finally, Dean in a hospital bed, surrounded by his family. He grasps Sam’s hand, looks at Cas like he’s trying to memorize his face. They are all old. They are all satisfied with their lives. Dean smiles, closes his eyes.

BLACKOUT. Heart monitor FLATLINES.

ACT FOUR

EXT. BOBBY’S FARM - PORCH. LATE SUMMER.

The field is golden and beautiful, yet as ragged as Dean remembers it. BOBBY SINGER sits on his rocking chair, beer in hand. Dean walks up to the porch. He takes his time— he has all the time in the world, after all.

BOBBY (fondly) Took you long enough, boy.

DEAN (looking around, smiling slightly) Had a life to live.

Bobby grunts, motions for Dean to sit down next to him. He hands him a beer from the cooler.

DEAN Thought you’d be able to magic yourself one of those from thin air, up here. Service not working lately?

BOBBY More authentic this way. (pause) Heaven’s better now, actually. You saw the old version— it’s not like that up here anymore.

DEAN How’s that?

BOBBY That kid of yours: Jack. He made it so you’re not just trapped in old memories— you can go anywhere, see anyone. (another pause— he knows how much this means to Dean) Anyone.

DEAN (swallowing— this is difficult, painful) Even—

BOBBY (more gently) They’re just up the road. (He takes a sip of his beer.) You have a lot to talk out. Bad memories to work through. But you can do it, with time. Work it all out.

DEAN I hope so, Bobby. I think so.

Pause. Something catches Dean’s eye. PAN OUT to the road— to the IMPALA, shiny as the day she came off the line.

DEAN (reverently) They brought my Baby.

BOBBY (looking at him like a father looks at his son) Go. They’ll wait.

Dean smiles, as big as we’ve ever seen, like a kid on Christmas. Driving down an empty highway, with nothing to do, nowhere to go. His favorite.

Dean turns on the car, smiles nostalgically, and flips on the radio. “HEY JUDE” by The Beatles begins to PLAY.

As the song plays, Dean sees people standing by the road— old friends, old lovers, old rivals, old members of his family. There is CHARLIE, waving frantically, a grinning KEVIN by her side. There are JO and ELLEN and ASH in the Roadhouse, bickering among themselves. There are MARY and JOHN, young lovers again, looking at each other with hope in their eyes. There is PAMELA, there is JODY, LISA, JESS, countless others they’ve loved and lost. JACK even blips in to wave hello.

And then, as the song concludes, Dean pulls to a stop. At the end of the road is Cas, and Sam standing behind him, waiting. They stand on a bridge that stretches over a river. The sun is just beginning to set. Dean gets out of the car, closing Baby gently.

DEAN Miss me?

SAM (rolling his eyes fondly) Shut up.

DEAN (brief confusion) So? Where’s everyone else?

SAM They’ll be here soon.

CAS They have some more living to do.

Dean nods, and turns to gaze out over the bridge. Cas slips a hand into his, and they stand together, looking at the sunset, breaking gold and crimson rays over the water, finally calm, finally peaceful.

BLACKOUT.

CARRY ON WAYWARD SON begins to PLAY again as the credits roll.

THE END.

#supernatural #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #Sam Winchester #supernatural fanfiction #carry on #IT'S FUCK THE CW FOREVER #mine #writing #script #supernatural finale

51 notes · View notes

baby-blossoms · 4 years

Text

Cold Eyes

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3,983

Summary/Request: “hey sorry if this is too specify but could you do a dean x reader where she grew up in a really abusive household and had an older brother but she couldn't deal with it anymore so she ran away when she was 15 and she somehow became a hunter and is now dating dean (he doesn't know about her past) but she runs into her brother while on a hunt and she starts having flashbacks so sam and dean get super protective and pull her away from him and she tells them about her past and it's like insanely fluffy”

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! This story deals with triggering material revolving around child ab*se. Ab*sive Father, Cussing, Alcoholism, Blasphemy (taking the Lord's name in vain.) ((Apologies to those I offended, I’ve gotten a few messages about this)) Mentions of high anxiety and panic attacks. All around, if you are triggered easily, I would not recommend this story for you.

**** BELOW THE CUT IS POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING MATERIAL ****

“Y/N, if you leave this house, you better hope I never fucking see you again!”

You flinched as your father slammed his fists against your bedroom door, trying to push it open. A barricade of practically anything you could possibly push in front of it was currently the only thing keeping you safe. You had finally had enough. Your father drank alcohol like water and used you as a punching bag. Your brother took his anger at your father out on you, and God knows where your mother was half the time. No fifteen year old should have to go through any of it. Your yearning for escape had finally overpowered your fear of your father, and you were frantically shoving anything you could think of needing into a duffel bag before he could manage to get past your haphazard barricade.

“Trust me, I promise we’ll never be anywhere near each other again.”

You said, knowing full well your father couldn’t hear you over his own drunken screams of outrage.

Yanking your window open, you kicked out the screen, climbed out of it, and ran like hell. The promise you made to your father that night was one you planned on keeping for the rest of your life.

You ran down your street, but it never seemed to end, only growing longer with every step you took. Turning to look behind you, you saw your father coming closer to you by the second, his hand raised, ready to hurt you more than he ever did before. He caught you, and you kicked and struggled as hard as you could, trying desperately to escape his grasp. His eyes were just as you remembered, they lacked any shred of empathy, humanity even. Other children grew up fearing the boogeyman, you were terrified of your own father and his cold eyes.

“Y/N!”

His voice sounded wrong, too deep, too gravely.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes shot open to Dean hovering above you, his eyebrows knit in concern. You held back a heavy sigh of relief.

“Baby, you kicked the hell out of me. Are you okay?”

You checked the clock next to your crappy hotel bed. Six in the morning. Your dreams liked to torment you with memories of your childhood, especially the night you escaped that godforsaken house. You had run for your life, and your father never caught up to you, but your brain liked to play the lovely ‘what if you didn’t escape, though?’ game.

“I’m sorry, hun. Jus’ go back to sleep…”

Dean stared at you for a moment, then giving you a soft kiss before collapsing back onto the bed to gain some much-needed rest. You knew you weren’t going back to sleep. Sleep never came easy to you, but it was ten times more elusive after a nightmare about your childhood.

You sighed in annoyance at your own brain for weaving such cruel dreams into your night. Deciding to get some coffee, you got ready for the day as quietly as possible, tiptoeing around the boys as if they were sleeping bears, which they practically were. The town you were in was too close to your “home” town. You knew it was unlikely you’d see your father, he rarely left the house unless he needed to earn some money or burn it all on beer again. Either way, there was a constant dread in your stomach the moment Dean pulled Baby into the janky little town.

---

“Hey, I got coffee!” you said as you entered the room once more. Sam was already pouring over something on the laptop. Dean sat staring blankly at one of his knives, most likely examining it for any imperfections as he had nothing better to do at the moment.

“Y/N, I could kiss you.”

Sam sighed out thoughtlessly, plucking a cup out of the drink carrier you held.

“Sure, if you wanna get throat-punched.”

Dean replied without hesitation. You chuckled, placing the other two drinks on the bedside table next to the bed you and Dean shared.

“Sorry Sammy,” you said with a smile, “I don’t like long hair.”

Sam glanced back to you with a raised eyebrow, a shit-eating grin lighting up his features,

“So,” he replied, “you’re saying if I cut my hair…?”

Dean grumbled and pulled you onto the bed with him. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

“Watch yourself, Sam.”

You stated simply, giggling at his face of repulsion when Dean pulled you against his chest and started kissing up and down your neck.

“On that note, let’s be ready for this case. We’ve definitely got at least two, maybe three vampires picking off people in pairs.

You groaned in annoyance, vampires were so tedious. Dean laughed silently against you, knowing your hatred for the blood-suckers. You hummed softly and turned to face him, bringing him into a soft kiss that became more heated with every second. He smiled against your lips and moaned lightly, pressing you even tighter against him.

“Jesus, I am still in the room!”

Sam said, his voice practically screaming his discomfort. You and Dean separated. Dean sighed, letting his head fall back against his pillow.

“Ya mind not being in the room then, Sammy?”

You suppressed a laugh at the annoyed look Sam shot Dean’s way before quickly collecting his gear and heading out of the room. The moment the hotel door closed, Dean didn’t hesitate to pull you against him once more.

----

Dean led you toward the library. Nightfall was approaching and you needed to regroup before the vampires had a chance to strike again. Sam sat at a table toward the back of the library, fully engulfed in whatever article he had was typing on his laptop. Dean glanced toward you, a wide mischievous smile stretching across his lips. You shook your head and simply watched as Dean stalked quietly toward Sam.

“Dude, I could hear you from a mile away.”

Sam said, and Dean huffed in frustration that Sam had ruined his fun. You approached the boys, already uncomfortable with the thought of being stuck in a library. You weren’t necessarily in a reading mood, and it wasn’t like you needed to research vampires. They were what threw you into the hunting life. A piece of shit vampire had seen a young vulnerable looking girl obviously traveling alone, fortunately Bobby had happened to be in just the right place at the right time. He took you in and taught you everything you knew. He never questioned why you used to flinch harder at him raising a hand too fast than at a full grown werewolf snapping its jaws at your face. You were always grateful for him treating you like his own till the day he died. Bobby was a saint to you, more of a father than your own had ever been.

Obviously you came in contact with the Winchesters, having been with Bobby all those years. Dean had taken quite an infatuation with you, and Sammy had a small crush, but he respected Dean’s feelings too much to do anything about it. You missed Bobby, but once he was gone, there was no point in you staying at his house anymore. You finally gave into your feelings for Dean and took to the road with the boys. Now here you were, only miles from the very place you started. Miles from the place you vowed to never come back to.

“Baby, you okay?”

You jumped slightly at Dean’s question, you had fully zoned out thinking about your past. You nodded, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling in your stomach. Something felt off.

“Y/n, seriously, what’s up?”

Dean questioned once more, his eyebrows were now knit in concern. You had never told Dean about your childhood. Every time that topic came to life, you quickly changed the subject or gave vague answers. You didn’t want him to pity you for the family you were born into. You didn’t want your shitty past to affect your future, and you didn’t know how Dean would react. At this point in your relationship, you weren’t sure it was even smart to tell him about it.

“I guess I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night, after all.”

Dean didn’t look satisfied with your answer whatsoever, and he went to further question you, but you swiftly took a seat next to Sam. Sam glanced at you, offered a small smile, and continued typing away.

“So what are we dealing with here, Sammy?”

You asked, leaning back into the padded chair. It smelled funny. You frowned, choosing to instead sit on the edge of the chair. You could handle blood, guts, and all the other things that came with hunting, but publicly used furniture like this was where you drew the line. God knows how long it had been since the chairs had been properly cleaned. By the smell that oozed off of them, clearly the cleaning had not been recent.

“Well,” Sam said, pausing for a moment to finish up whatever he was typing out, “It shouldn’t be too bad. It’s two vampires terrorizing towns all over the state. Looks like a couple, honestly.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Murdering innocent people and draining their blood. How romantic. You looked to Dean, going to make a sarcastic comment, but he was already staring you down. Clearly he was not ready to let go of your brief conversation. Sighing, you turned back to Sam. He looked between you and Dean awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension between the two of you.

“Uh,” Sam looked about ready to sink into his chair. “Well… anyway… I hacked into a security camera around where the last two bodies were found. Here.”

He spun the laptop toward you, and you squinted at the terrible quality video. The male vampire ate like an absolute pig, he practically tore his victim to shreds, splattering blood everywhere. The female was surprisingly neat and well mannered for a vampire devouring the blood of its victim. Disgust overtook your features as you watched them practically eat each other’s faces as well once they were done feeding. Kissing with blood smeared all over Dean’s face was not your number one romantic fantasy if you were being honest.

“Okay, well enough of that.” you cringed at the disgusting display of affection, spinning the laptop away from you. “Should be easy. The woman is my worry, they’re always harder to get. Male vampires love to run right into a fight, the girl will probably strategize before she attacks.”

Sam nodded in agreement. Not all male vampires ran straight into the attack, but most did. You expected nothing less from this one, especially watching the hyper-aggressive way he ate.

“Who knows, Y/n, maybe he’s smarter than you think.”

Dean grunted. You shrugged. Maybe.

“We can never be too safe. Just don’t underestimate either of them.”

You responded.

“Yeah, maybe they’re hiding something. Doesn’t it suck when people hide things from you?”

Dean quipped back. You narrowed your eyes at him. He was being petty now. Sure, you could see how not telling him everything might upset him, but you hated when people were petty.

“Okay, well when you’re done acting like a high-schooler, I’ll be preparing for the hunt.”

You stood from your smelly library chair, and quickly made your way back to the streets. Practically slamming the doors open, you didn’t even know where you were going, but you didn’t want to be anywhere near that library and its god awful smelling seats.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you abruptly ran into seemingly the only other person out on the streets that night. You withheld an angry exclamation, it was your own fault for not paying attention to where you were going, but god it was infuriating either way.

“Oh sorry.”

You began, your next words dying in your throat when you made eye contact with the man you had run into. He had your father’s eyes. They lacked any emotion, they were cold. You felt a wave of nausea in your stomach, and practically jumped away from him.

“Y/N?”

Your stomach twisted. You felt the blood leave your face, and considered pretending not to know who the hell he was talking about. You never wanted to see him again either. The situation you were put in prevented you both from ever becoming as close as siblings should have, let alone nearly as close as Sam and Dean. Your brother, Danny, only got worse as time went by. He seemed to lose all empathy as the two of you grew older.

---

You sat in your bedroom, reading the latest book in your vast collection. They felt like the only way you could escape your reality at that point. Your father refused to give you any form of technology, and wouldn’t allow you to watch television with him in the living room. You were only provided with books he approved of, or ones you managed to sneak in under his nose when he passed out on the living room couch. The book you were reading at the time was a perfect example of one you weren’t supposed to be reading. Anything revolving around traveling the world, or freedom of thought and speech, your father hated.

Anything that might give you any semblance of hope outside of that house was absolutely forbidden. He constantly reminded you that he owned you, that you weren’t even allowed to think a certain way unless he said you could. As you grew older, even being forced into homeschooling, you obviously formed your own thoughts, opinions, and personality. You never expressed any of these things to him, but rage started to build within you, buried under your fear for him.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, slamming the book shut and shoving it under your pillow. Your brother stood at your bedroom door, eyeing you in suspicion.

“Nothing, Danny. What do you want?”

Danny scoffed, slowly stalking toward you. You cringed with every step he took closer to you and your smuggled book. You knew this wouldn’t end well. Your brother would snitch if it meant his skin was saved from a beating. It was almost as if your father had a daily tally going. Whoever did the most wrong, or annoyed him the most would be punished every night. You felt as if yours were always more severe than Danny’s. Danny rarely ever got punished anyway, he made sure of that.

“I want to know what you’re reading.”

He replied.

“Danny, stop it!”

You cried out, trying to stop him as he quickly lunged for the book under your pillow. He held it up, a victorious smile painting his lips. His eyebrows knit in anger as he read the description of your book. His glare toward you shifted to pure anxiety when his eyes darted to your bedroom door. You tensed. You knew what that look of fear meant. Father was awake.

“What the fuck are you two making so much noise for? What are you doing Danny?”

Danny shook his head quickly, holding up the book for your father to see while he quickly explained,

“It’s Y/n’s! I caught her reading this stuff, I was just telling her to get rid of it.”

Fear shot straight to your heart, and you stared at your lap, trying to keep yourself from shaking. Every step your father took closer to that book was a step closer to your next punishment. You understood Danny throwing you under the bus this time, but still resented him for it.

“What the fuck is this bullshit, Y/n? I didn’t say you could read this propaganda!”

You let out a small cry when he grabbed your chin so harshly you knew it would bruise. Forcing you to look at him, he sneered,

“Going behind my back and reading shit like this under my fucking roof? You’re in for it this time, little girl.”

He hit the side of your head so hard with the book, you became dizzy for a moment, and your hearing was muffled. At least you could only hear him screaming at you through one ear. That was only the start of what he had planned for you. He made Danny watch everything he did to you. Danny didn’t show an ounce of emotion the entire time. His eyes bore into yours. They were cold and unapologetic. Better you than him, right? That was the day you realized Danny had your father’s cold eyes.

---

“Y/n?”

You snapped out of your worst memory with Danny, feeling like you really might throw up, scream, run, cry, or punch him.

“No.”

You stated, moving to walk past him. He grabbed your arm, so hard you knew it would bruise. You felt as if your lungs were collapsing in on themselves. You felt trapped. You felt like that fifteen year old girl again, helpless to everything going on around her. Isolated, terrified, and wanting nothing more than to run.

“Y/n, I know it’s you. You have dad’s eyes.”

You tore your arm from his grasp, feeling as though your heart had stopped beating the moment you heard him utter those words. Those disgusting words.

“Don’t you ever compare me to him! Don’t you dare say I look anything like that fucking monster!”

Danny took a step toward you, and you matched him with a step back.

“Y/n, dad would love to see you.”

You stared at your brother, appalled.

“So he can beat me again? Call me worthless? So he can fucking torture me while you watch?”

Danny shook his head, grabbing your shoulders,

“Y/n, it's been years. We’re still your family.”

You laughed at him, pain lacing your voice as you practically screamed,

“I will never consider either of you my family! You did nothing, Danny! He beat me, and you just watched! You stood there and fucking watched as he beat me! You just wanted to save your own ass. You never cared when we were children, neither of you did, so don’t you dare act like you care now!”

Danny’s eyes betrayed his apologetic expression. He had no intent on letting you go without a fight.

Click.

“Get the fuck away from her, you piece of shit.”

Your eyes started watering in pure relief at the sound of Dean’s voice. You were shaking, too many traumatic and repressed memories were slamming through you like a tornado. Danny’s grip on you loosened in surprise, just enough to let you pull back and jab him in the throat.

“Mother fucker!”

Danny wheezed out, stumbling backward and falling on his ass.

You didn’t think, you bolted. You sprinted as hard and fast as you could straight to the hotel, not once looking back.

----

You sat in the hotel bathtub, trying to choke back sobs. Trying as hard as you could to stop yourself from having a panic attack. You knew something felt off earlier. It was your gut telling you to get the hell out of that town. A knock on the door almost sent you into a full panic until you saw it was Dean. You were terrified of the thought of Danny tracking you down and dragging you kicking and screaming back to your worst nightmare. The sight of Dean calmed you slightly, but you were still on the brink hyperventilating.

“Baby…”

Dean took a few tentative steps toward the bathtub, silently gauging whether or not it was okay for him to be near you, let alone touch you after what happened with your brother. You squeezed your eyes shut, drawing shaking breaths in and out, trying more than anything to keep it together.

“Do you want me here?”

He asked after a moment. You nodded your head in affirmation. Dean stepped into the bathtub, struggling to sit comfortably in it. It was comical how small his larger stature made the tub look. You let out a raspy laugh, and Dean smiled softly at you. He slowly and gently guided you to lay on top of him, your head resting on his chest.

You laid there in silence for almost an hour. Dean didn’t try to pry anything out of you, he simply rubbed your back and ran his fingers through your hair. He didn’t even need to speak to calm you down. Eventually your breathing came easily again, and you finally whispered,

“How much did you hear?”

Dean sighed, his voice nothing but factual as he responded,

“Everything.”

You nodded.

“My dad… he was worse than any monster we’ve ever hunted. He hurt me in more ways than I thought possible.”

You finally adjusted to look Dean in the eyes. They didn’t hold any pity, just sorrow.

“You don't have to…”

You cut him off quickly,

“I want you to know everything. I don’t ever want to hide anything from you, Dean.”

Dean nodded, giving you a soft smile.

“He would do unspeakable things to me, and make Danny watch. It got to the point Danny would get me into trouble on purpose- to save his own ass. He didn’t care, just as long as it wasn’t him getting the beating.” you paused, taking in a few shaky breaths, “One night he told Danny to hold me down while he punished me for speaking out of line. Even when I screamed and pleaded, Danny just held me down while my father punished me. My brother was long gone, he stared into my eyes, and it was almost as if he couldn’t hear or see me. I was only fifteen.”

Dean’s eyes were glossy with tears, you could tell it hurt him to hear, but you felt he deserved to know everything. His voice was thick and raspier than usual as he murmured,

“You don’t ever have to worry about him. I made sure he’ll never look for you, let alone touch you, again.”

You could only imagine what Dean and Sam had done with Danny the moment you left.

“It was my dad who caused those scars on my stomach. The ones I told you were from a hunt gone wrong. I ran away the night he carved them into me, and I never looked back. After a few days of traveling I was attacked by a vampire. Bobby saved my life. That was the night I consider my life to have actually started. Bobby saved my life in more ways than I could ever explain.”

Dean wrapped his arms around you, holding you against him as if the moment he let go you might disappear.

“I’m sorry about earlier, baby. I didn’t…”

He trailed off with a sigh. You knew what he meant. He never could’ve imagined it was this that you were hiding from him.

“No, I’m sorry for keeping it from you for so long, darling. You deserved to know, especially with how long we’ve been together. I was scared it would push you away, or make you look at me differently.”

Dean shook his head adamantly.

“Y/n, I’ll love you no matter what. I knew I wanted to be with you when I saw you smile for the first time. You could try to kill me, and I’d probably still follow you around like a dumbass.”

You laughed, drawing him into a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much, Dean.”

You whispered. Dean kissed you softly once more, then whispering back,

“I will love you with everything in me until the day I die… again...” he trailed off for a moment before adding, “I’ll love you even when I’m dead.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t think you’ll ever permanently die anyway, Dean.”

Dean laughed with you, retorting,

“I’ll love you every time I get brought back, too.”

177 notes · View notes

inawickedlittletown · 3 years

Text

Is It Too Much To Ask For Something Good (1/4)

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Summary: Maybe the problem was knowing that if he talked about it and that if he said it outloud with words that could be heard, it wasn’t only his anymore. Or that they had saved the world but nothing was alright. Not anymore. Not ever.

In the aftermath of defeating Chuck and bringing everyone back, there was still one thing that wasn't set to rights. Castiel was still in The Empty. And Dean would never leave him there, even if it meant allowing Jack to change him.

Author’s Note: I'm sure there are a few hundred fix-it fics out there after a finale like that. And I never intended to write another fic...much less in a fandom I've never written for. But this idea would not stop nagging. The feels I have for these characters would not stop nagging me. So here we are. Enjoy.

Words: 2,531

Read on Ao3

Part One

Maybe the problem was knowing that if he talked about it and that if he said it outloud with words that could be heard, it wasn’t only his anymore. Or that they had saved the world but nothing was alright. Not anymore. Not ever.

The permanence of this death — of the way The Empty had taken Cas away — it left a gaping hole that Dean knew with absolute surety would never be filled. It would always be there and as invisible as it was to everyone else, for Dean it felt ever-present. Cas was never far from his thoughts. Castiel. Angel of the Lord. Angel of Thursday. Dean’s best friend. Dean’s person. Dean’s. Just Dean’s.

On the days when Sam was gone from the bunker, when he was off helping another hunter or with Eileen and on the nights when it was well after midnight and Sam was in his room for the night, Dean hit the books. He was reading up on everything he could about The Empty. There wasn’t much. And then, like every night, he prayed. To Cas at first even though he knew it would never be heard. Then, to Jack.

Jack didn’t respond. He didn’t appear and he didn’t send any messages. Dean prayed to Jack every day for two months until he finally just stopped.

Things were different and yet the same. There were still things to hunt and people to help. The Impala was always ready to go and if there was one place where Dean felt happy it was driving his Baby with his music on and his brother at his side. But even then, when his eyes locked on the rearview mirror, there was an angel missing in his backseat and that never failed to make his chest ache.

Time moved because there was nothing else for it to do, but to Dean that meant little. He tried not to think about it because if he stopped to think about how many days or weeks or months had gone by since, then he would need to consider that eventually one day the number of years without Cas would eclipse the time that he had had with Cas. That felt unacceptable.

For some reason, Sam never pushed after the first few days. He never asked questions or tried to get Dean to talk about Cas probably because the first time Cas came up, right after everything went down, Dean had yelled and thrown things and then he’d picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels and when that one was gone he drank another all spaced out with beer and yet the pain was never dulled. The headache and nausea from the next day made him forget for a few moments and then it just added on.

When Sam found him and handed him a mug of black coffee, his brother just lifted an eyebrow.

“Get that out of your system?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Sam. Cas is gone. He’s gone and he isn’t coming back.”

Sam had given him one of his patented looks that screamed of pity and sadness. “We saved the world. There has to be a—”

And that was the moment when Dean lost it.

“Leave it alone, Sam! He’s gone. That’s it. Leave it alone! We are never going to see him again and that’s that! He’s gone just like mom and like dad and Bobby and...and even Jack.”

His coffee had sloshed in his hand and the hot liquid ran down over his fingers and to the floor before Dean just slammed it down on the nearest table and it spilled even more.

“But if we talk to Jack. He’s God now and—”

“He’s gone!” Dean screamed and then in a normal tone, “if Jack could have done something, he would have already done it.” Without even thinking about it, Dean grabbed the half full cup of coffee.

“But this is Cas we’re talking about. He’s come back from The Empty before and—”

Dean threw the mug at the nearest wall. The ceramic shattered and the coffee splattered on the wall and dripped down.

Sam flinched. “Dean—”

Dean knew his brother and he knew his brother meant well, that Sam had cared for Cas too, but that didn’t change the facts and in those first initial days when he was still trying to wrap his mind around the other thing, hope that they could bring Cas back was the last thing on his mind. He didn’t need Sam making unfounded promises that they would find a way when Dean knew their chances were slim and that Jack would have interfered and brought Cas back if there was a way.

“I can’t be here right now,” Dean had muttered as he watched the coffee drip down the wall.

So, ignoring his brother’s calls of his name, Dean walked away. He barely even packed and then he was off. Dean turned off his phone. For two weeks he drove going from one shitty hotel room to another. And every day his mind replayed Cas’ last moments.

Cas had been crying.

Cas had loved him.

Cas saved him.

Cas was taken.

Dean was left all alone.

Dean dreaded returning, but life on the road wasn’t some balm that made everything easier. It just meant that at least he was on his own. It was on the road that he started to pray. He prayed to Cas knowing it wouldn’t be heard and every prayer ended with: “you idiot, how could you think I never felt the same.” But Dean never said those three words, not when they would never reach Cas’ ears and that was the only way that he would ever say them outloud.

Dean prayed to Jack too after the first week. Every night it was first a prayer to Cas and then a follow up to Jack.

Knowing fully well that there could be nothing to do to bring Cas back, Dean returned to the bunker and promised himself that he would try. Not with any expectation or hope, but just because not trying felt like giving up on Cas altogether and that was one thing that Dean would never do.

Sam greeted him with a hug. Eileen hugged him next. Neither of them asked about his trip, instead they started showing him information about a new case. Dean had expected his return to be met with more arguments with Sam or for him to want to push about finding a way to bring Cas back, so when they didn’t come Dean just jumped into the new case. Dean supposed that it could have been Eileen’s influence, but for once Sam just left it alone. So, Dean did his research when Sam wasn’t around and he prayed every day.

No day could end without Dean telling Cas about his day. Even when he stopped praying to Jack nightly, he would still pray to Cas.

If Sam knew about Dean’s research or about how often Dean tried to reach out to Jack, Sam said nothing about it. A part of Dean hoped that Sam did know about it and another part that Sam had no clue. Most of the time, it did seem like Sam had no idea. Between Eileen and the network of hunters that were always reaching out, Sam kept busy. The few times that he did bring up Cas it was casual and not like he was trying to get any reaction out of Dean.

What Sam definitely didn’t know was Cas’ last words before he was taken or the exact reason why The Empty had come for Cas in that moment and Dean didn’t want him to know them.

When a whole three months had gone by of Dean not praying to Jack every night, Jack finally showed up.

It was nearing 4am, and Jack just appeared in the bunker’s library. Dean was doing research. A few empty beer bottles sat on the table next to him. His notebook had gained very little in notes.

Dean had forgotten how much Jack looked like Cas. He had changed little in his time away, he still even wore jeans and t-shirt. He could have just been coming out of his room to see why Dean was still awake, curious and puppy-like in his excitement to help. That was missing from him, because his lips were pressed into a line and he looked serious.

“Hi, Dean,” Jack said. “I’m sorry I didn’t come before.”

“Jack,” Dean said.

Jack rounded the table and he pulled out the chair next to Dean. He sat down slowly.

“Heaven is a lot more work than I thought,” Jack said. “I couldn’t leave without dire consequences and even now...well, things are a big stabler now but there are so few angels left. And so many prayers.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he should or could say. Jack was no longer the kid that had trailed after them and that Dean hadn’t been very fair to. He was more powerful than ever and still he hadn’t managed to do the one single thing that Dean wanted more than anything. The thing he would give anything to get.

“What about Cas, Jack?” Dean asked after listening to Jack describe just a few of the things that had kept him busy.

Jack’s face fell from animated to forlorn.

“I’ve tried,” Jack said. “I’ve tried everything I could think of and I don’t know how.”

Dean felt his stomach drop. The small sprout of hope that he’d been nourishing inside of him shrivelled and wanted to die.

“But I know it is possible,” Jack added. His hand reached out to grab Dean’s.

Dean’s eyes snapped to Jack’s. He saw them flash gold and blue light burst from where their hands connected.

“What was—”

“Castiel wouldn’t have wanted to let you hurt,” Jack said. “At least the physical pains.”

His ribs had been bruised up from the last case he and Sam had gone on and a knife had slashed into the meat of his thigh. He’d burned his hand cooking breakfast that morning and there had been a big bruise on his left forearm. All of that was gone. Somehow, it just made the Castiel shaped hole in his heart that much sharper.

“Thanks,” Dean said and didn’t know if he meant it.

“Castiel told me that his father brought him back. Chuck brought him back from The Empty. And I played a part in it the last time that he — I just don’t know how.”

The thing of it was that Dean had thought about it before. Somewhere in his notebook full of notes was a list of all the times Cas had died and what he knew about them and Cas’ return to life. Jack was right in saying that Cas had been resurrected by Chuck. Back then they hadn’t known about The Empty or what it was for but if it was supposed to hold all the angels that died, then they had to presume that Chuck had brought Cas back from there. Chuck would know how he’d done it. Chuck was also now stuck as a human forever and unlikely to help.

Dean knew that Sam kept track of Chuck just in case, but neither of them had ever wanted to see him again. Certainly not so soon.

“When you helped get Cas back, you only woke him up,” Dean said. “Cas annoyed The Empty enough that it kicked Cas out. Chuck pulled him out. Didn’t disturb The Empty at all. Just made Cas alive again.”

Dean had thought about it before. It was what had prompted him to pray to Jack and ask for him to bring Cas back. If Jack was on that level of power it wasn’t implausible to think that Jack would be able to do it.

“Things are different now,” Jack said carefully. “The Empty is different. I think that is the problem. If I could — if I could go in there I would…” he trailed off. “I could barely make the time to come here and, Dean, I can’t stay long before I’m needed.”

The anger that should have come at hearing that stayed at bay, kept back by his pain and by the pain that was reflected in Jack. For Jack, Cas had been a father. Maybe it was unconventional in the way it had come to be with Jack being Lucifer’s son and with Jack not being an actual baby when he was born, but Jack had chosen Cas and Cas had always loved and protected Jack. Not to mention that Dean’s anger at Jack had done more harm than good in the past, so Dean let it simmer and then just turned off the flame entirely.

“This isn’t your fault, Jack,” Dean said.

Jack jumped back from the chair and it toppled to the ground. “You think I don’t know,” Jack said.

Dean watched him. Jack ran agitated hands through his hair. His eyes flitted this way and that before they were on Dean again.

“I know about the deal,” Jack said. “What he did for me. What he did for you.”

Dean let his eyes close and he could see Cas with his tears and the way that he had kept his eyes so fixed on him.

“I want nothing more than to bring my father home,” Jack said.

“So do it,” Dean said and maybe he said it a bit gruffer and harder than he should have.

Jack’s shoulders slumped and he looked so young in that moment.

“I can’t,” Jack said in little more than a whisper. “And I have to — they need me back in Heaven, Dean. I…” he trailed off and his head tilted to the side as he looked directly at Dean. “I can’t go to The Empty.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve said. You’re too busy,” Dean said and he rolled his eyes.

“I am busy,” Jack said. “And I can’t spare any angels. There are too few and those that are left...they do not see Castiel as we do.”

Dean dropped his head into his hands. None of it was right. Jack couldn’t do anything and he was God. If Jack couldn’t bring him back there was no hope and no way to imagine that it could ever happen at all. His face was wet. Dean had cried for Cas so often since the day he was taken that as he wiped them away angrily, he was well aware that they would not be the last tears.

Jack’s hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Dean looked up.

“I need your permission,” Jack said.

“My permission?” Dean asked, bemused.

“I can’t go and the remaining angels can’t go, Dean. But you can. You can bring him back. Just not while you’re human.”

Dean’s brows furrowed and understanding was settling in him. “What are you talking about, kid?”

“If you were an angel with angelic power, then I can send you into The Empty and you can bring him back,” Jack said. “You can find Castiel and bring him home.”

Part Two

#supernatural fic #destiel fic #destiel #deancas #supernatural #fix it fic #finale fix it fic #my fic

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detectivecarlosreyes · 4 years

Text

In Case of Emergency (Ch 4/10)

Ao3 | 2.7/6.1k | Eventual Buddie | Status: Incomplete

Prev. Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 4: A shoulder to cry on They haven't heard from Eddie in 3 days since Shannon's passing and Buck is worried. An additional scene set between 2x17 and 2x18

It was months later when Buck used Eddie’s key for the second time, half wishing it was for an actual emergency because at least then he would know what to do.

It had been three days since Shannon had passed away and he couldn’t help but worry about Eddie. Realistically, he knew that Eddie had Chris, his Abuela, and Tia to keep him company, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from worrying until he heard from or saw the man in person.

No one had heard a word from the man since the accident, not that he expected to hear from the grieving man, but all of his attempts to contact the man had him stonewalled and left on read with nary a reply, so he could only begin to imagine how the man was doing.

“Any word from Eddie?” He asked while they took the opportunity for a 3 pm lunch, passing Hen her sandwich, hoping that maybe he’d reached out to someone.

“Haven’t since the hospital,” Chim responded in between mouthfuls of his sandwich and looked to Hen who shrugged and shook her head empathetically.

“Last I spoke to him was when I let him know he could have a much time as he needed and that wasn’t much of a conversation.” Added Bobby as he packed away the sandwich fillings.

Buck nodded along in understanding but still feeling uneasy, unsure of what he could do to help his grieving partner. It takes him the rest of the shift to decide but eventually he figured it would be worth it to at least check on him in person on his way home after shift.

Before leaving the station, he sent a quick message to Eddie.

Me: I know you haven’t answered any of my other messages but thought I might stop by on my way home tonight, just thought I’d give you a heads up if you didn’t want me to.

Eddie: Read 8:28pm

It was nearing 9 pm by the time Buck made it to Eddie’s place. He intended to be there much earlier, but he ended up stopping along the way to pick up a Nutella pizza and beer figuring Eddie might like some comfort food.

Buck checked his phone when he parked outside Eddie’s house. Taking the lack of response as a sign that he didn’t not want him to come over. He slid the beer and pizza from the passenger seat into his lap before getting out and locking the truck.

As he walked up to the house, he hesitated a few steps from his Jeep briefly reconsidering this whole idea, doubt colouring his thoughts about whether or not he was overstepping just to give himself peace of mind. With a bite of his lip, he surged forward to the door pushing past the indecision and gave it a cursory knock before using the key to unlock it.

Upon entering, he could hear the faint sound of the tv as he tentatively made his way inside calling out to Eddie, wondering if he was even going to accept his presence. Moving through the house he passed the empty living room immediately noting the lack of Chris’ presence and energy within the walls despite the hour, the heavy weight of sorrow taking his place.

He found his partner in the kitchen peering absentmindedly into the fridge seemingly unaware Buck had been calling his name and watched as he startled slightly when he closed the fridge door having taken nothing out of it.

“Uh, hey man. Thought you might like some company.” Buck said cautiously, unable to read Eddie’s face like he normally could. Eddie’s eyes momentarily flickered with what looked to be gratitude before taking the beer out of his hand and carried it to the living room.

Taking that as an invitation to hang around, Buck followed him, concern blossoming in his chest. Eddie set the beer down, immediately taking one, and opened it as he collapsing on the couch. Buck did the same, placing the pizza down next to the beer and fell into the adjacent armchair.

The tv was quietly playing some kind of nature documentary and it was only now that Buck noticed looking around that most of the lights were off except the lamp sitting behind the couch bathing them in muted light.

He turned his attention back to Eddie, who has slouched down into the couch, staring glassy-eyed at the tv with the beer resting on his leg, untouched. He looked exhausted, with dark shadows under his eyes and hair mussed. It looked like he hadn’t shaved since Buck last saw him which, considering the circumstance was unsurprising. All in all, he looked like what you’d expect of a man who had recently lost his wife.

“I – Uh, brought a Nutella pizza, it’s not the healthiest of choices but I’ve always found that it’s surprisingly good comfort food. Though, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.” Buck rambled, unsure of what else to say. Eddie barely acknowledged that he heard aside from a quick glance at him and the box, staying silent as he turned back to stare off in the direction of the tv.

Buck rubbed the back of his neck feeling kind of awkward, “Look, man. I don’t know how you must be feeling right now, but I’m here if you wanted someone to talk to or I can just sit here quietly…” he took in Eddie’s far off expression, “…or I can just go if that’s what you want.”

He moved to get up taking the quiet as an answer, but Eddie quickly snagged his wrist, halting his movement. Buck looked down at him, who in turn was looking up at him with glistening eyes.

It was then that Eddie uttered a small, “Don’t go, not yet.”

With a look like that, Buck couldn’t imagine being able to deny such a request, his heart just wouldn’t allow it.

He sat back down, choosing instead to take a seat next to Eddie on the couch, shuffling closer to him until their legs were pressed together. Eddie sagged into the couch following Buck’s seating choice and released what sounded to be a relieved sigh, seemingly taking comfort in the contact. After some moments he leaned forward and set the still untouched beer on the coffee table and then rested his forearms on his knees with his hands hanging between them and head bowed.

“The house is so quiet when Chris isn’t here, even when he’s asleep it never feels like this. My Abuela and Tia have been here ever since they found out about the accident but today, they thought it might be a good idea for Chris to stay with them tonight just so I could have some time for myself to process.”

He absentmindedly reached for a slice of pizza and took a small bite of it before setting it on top of the box, “I just don’t know what to do with myself. The funeral is a day from now, my family and her family are coming, and I have no idea of what I’m going to do or say.”

He continued, voice now thick with emotion, “I was ready to be a family again, I thought we were having another kid together and then we weren’t. I was ready to be a family again and she wanted a divorce and then she died just like that,” Eddie choked back a sob, “Even after all of that and everything that we went through, I still loved her.”

It was then that he started to cry in full force over this admittance, letting the grief and the emotions that were mingled in with it flow through him through his tears.

Not knowing what to say, Buck did the only thing he could think to do and silently wrapped a supportive arm around Eddie’s shoulders as he crumpled in on himself.

Eddie’s body shook with the heavy sobs as he turned his head into Buck’s shoulder, soaking the material of his shirt with his tears. Feeling his heart break for the man that he’s grown to care for, Buck rubbed soothing circles into Eddie’s shoulder as he cried, knowing there was nothing that he could say that would ease this kind of pain.

They stayed like that for some time, Buck just holding Eddie until the flow of tears start to dry up and Eddie pulled away, wiping at his face and looking embarrassed. Buck let his arms fall away, allowing Eddie as much space as he wanted.

“Sorry, I’m never like–”

Buck interrupted him with a stalling hand before he could finish what he was about to say, “Don’t say another word, you have nothing to apologise for. I’m here for you, whatever you need, even if it meant just being a shoulder to cry on.”

“Thank you,” breathed Eddie softly as he gave him a small smile.

“Did you want me to stay?” Buck asked gently, seeing now that Eddie might need the company.

He watched as Eddie slouched down and rest his head on the back of the couch, tilting his head to the side look at him. “Could you? You make it feel less quiet, you always do.”

Buck slumped down, mirroring Eddie as he took in the smoothed lines of his face in the glow of the tv, making himself more comfortable while keeping his knee in contact with Eddie’s.

“Okay then, I’ll stay.” He breathed, knowing that he would do anything Eddie asked of him

They stayed like that for a couple of hours, with Buck quietly telling Eddie about all the calls that he had missed over the last couple of days, embellishing where he could. Eddie for his part, did his best to respond and ask questions when appropriate, but as the time passed, his answers shortened and started turning into hums, and eventually he slid sideways against Buck, lightly snoring.

Buck carefully moved out from under him and gently set him down on the couch, lifting his feet up so that he was lying more comfortably on his side. He then went to Eddie’s room and grabbed the comforter and a pillow and brought them back to the lounge room, easing the pillow under his friend’s head before draping the comforter over him.

With hands on his hips, he tore his gaze from the sleeping man to survey the rest of the room and decided to, at the very least, clear up the coffee table, gathering the beers and pizza, moving them to the kitchen. Placing both onto the bench, he scratched his head in dismay.

There were a number of dishes piled up beside and in the sink. It looked as though nothing had been washed in a few days, that is not to say that Eddie didn’t have or use his dishwasher, he did, except for the fact that it was currently half full of clean dishes.

Realising that it was too late to get stuck into them now as it was past midnight and not wanting to wake Eddie with the clattering of dishes, Buck made a mental note to tackle the cleaning in the morning and instead put both the pizza and what was left of the beer in the fridge.

When he returned to the living room, he kicked off his shoes and set them by the door before grabbing the blanket draped on the back of the armchair and settled into the chair for the night watching the quiet rise and fall of Eddie’s chest, letting the rhythm lull him to sleep as he kept his promise to stay.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Eddie woke up suddenly for no discernible reason, confusion muddling his thoughts as he took in his surroundings. Why was he sleeping on the couch? And how did his comforter and pillow get from his bedroom to the living room? He jolted upright, now realising that the reason he woke up was because there were noises coming from the kitchen.

A quick surge of panic rose within him and he threw back the comforter preparing to defend himself against the intruder as he heard the footfalls travelling towards the kitchen doorway. Almost as quickly as it had come, the panic vanished and was replaced by relief as soon as Buck came into view carrying two mugs of coffee, bringing forth the memory of the night before.

“Morning.” Buck greeted as he set down a mug in front of Eddie on the coffee table before sighing and falling into the armchair.

Looking him up and down, Eddie noticed that Buck was wearing exactly the same clothing as he was the night before, minus the shoes. The blanket that was usually folded and draped on the back of the armchair was now bundled and spilling over the arm.

Eddie took a sip of the coffee, watching Buck as he did so.

“You stayed.” He murmured over the lip of the mug, both unsurprised and surprised that the man had stayed in the awkward chair for the night just because he asked him to stay.

“I said that I would,” answered Buck easily.

They fell into a companionable silence after that, not feeling a need to fill the air with words, instead sipping contentedly at their coffees. It wasn’t until he had finished half of the mug that Buck announced that he answered a call from Pepa on Eddie’s phone earlier, saying that she would be over with Christopher in an hour or so.

Once their coffees were drained, they straightened up the living room, gathering up the bedding from the couch and took it back to the bedroom, it was here that Buck cleared his throat, “Hey, Eds.”

Eddie hummed in response, focusing on smoothing out the comforter.

“I know we’ll be on shift when the funeral is scheduled, but if you want, I’ll ask Bobby if we can stop by…”

“You don’t have to Buck, it’s okay if you guys can’t make it, I’ll have my family there,”

“I want us to. To be there for you.”

Touched by his insistence, Eddie looked up and gave him a small smile, “That would be nice.”

Buck matched his smile with one of his own, “Okay then.”

And that was that. Buck left shortly after once everything was in order, claiming that Eddie should take some time to himself to clean up and sort himself before his son came home, to which he didn’t disagree as he ran a hand across his jawline.

It was only after Buck had left and Eddie had taken a shower did he notice that the laundry hamper in the bathroom was void of any clothes causing him to do a double take. Puzzled, he headed to the laundry, still wrapped in his towel, only to discover two neatly stacked piles of freshly washed and dried clothes, one for him and one for Christopher.

He smiled to himself taking his stack to his bedroom and got dressed. Stomach now grumbling from the lack of breakfast, Eddie made his way to the kitchen to discover that Buck had also cleaned every inch of the kitchen. All the dishes had either been washed by hand and stacked or been put in the dishwasher which was only a few minutes away from finishing its cycle.

He opened the fridge revealing the last surprise of the morning, a jug of pancake batter with a post-it note attached to it, “Eat Me! :)” was inscribed on it in Buck’s scrawl causing Eddie to actually chuckle to himself, something that he didn’t think was possible since Shannon had passed. He pulled out his phone and send Buck a text.

Me: I hope that note isn’t suggesting that these pancakes will make me a giant like Alice. Me: Thanks again for everything you’ve done.

Buck’s response was almost immediate.

Buck: Can’t say I can promise anything about the pancakes ;) Buck: No worries man, I said I’d have your back.

Eddie smiled at the phone before putting it in his pocket and turned his attention to making some pancakes wondering how he could even come close to returning the favour. As it turned out, that opportunity came about sooner than he expected.

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apocalypseornaw · 4 years

Text

Always be Yours-5

Word Count:4,476

Story Summary: Inspired by the 2 part I did of the same title. Follows Dean and Reader through season 9 into season 10

Chapter Summary: During a hunt a spell results with Dean tapping into his more k-9 nature

Warnings: ridiculousness along with the usual

After the interruption by Sam the night after Charlie left you expected Dean to find a moment to ask you whatever it was but it seemed as if he intended to act as if that moment had never happened between the two of you. Your bruises healed and with Kevin's mini vacation being over life in the bunker went back to as normal as it ever was.

You had just walked into the map room where Sam was sitting at the table when Dean walked in from the hall "Wow" you cut your eyes at him as you handed Sam a cup of coffee than sat across from him with your own "What?" Sam asked turning to look at his brother. "Kevin, I just poured some buffalo milk down his gob twice" you stifled a laugh. Poor kid was still recovering from Branson. "Buffalo milk?" Sam asked and without thinking you spoke over Dean "Hangover cure-all. Has everything in it except buffalo milk" Dean raised one eyebrow at you knowing what he meant and Sam not but luckily before he could comment on it Sam said what you were thinking "How is that kid still recovering from Branson?" "What can I say he's an amatuer. The slippery nipple shots at the Dolly Parton dixie stampede nearly killed the guy" "Not the slippery nipples" you muttered into your coffee and made both boys look your way with matching smirks before Sam told Dean he may have found a case.

"Are you sure you're up for a case Sammy?" Dean asked and you braced yourself for the ongoing back and forth where Sam would assure you and Dean both he was feeling fine and Dean would express his and yours concerns because the two of you actually knew what Sam's insides were like. "I am Dean. Look, Kevin's back on the heaven spell. Crowley's locked up so we should be out there doing what we do best. Plus we have Y/N here so three hunters are better than two"

Dean glanced your way but you kept your eyes trained on the coffee swirling around in your cup when Sam asked him "Are you at least going to listen?" Dean finally looked away from you and waved a hand "Go ahead" You turned to look at Sam as he started reading from the article "Taxidermist named Max Alexander crushed to death. Nearly every joint in his body dislocated, every bone broken. Poor guy is a human pretzel. You tell me what's got that kind of strength" "A demonic luchador?" Dean offered and the eye roll Sam gave him was deep enough you were certain Sam saw his own brain. "Shop's a couple hours away in Enid Oklahoma. We should at least check it out. Y/N you in?"

You looked up and shrugged "Sure, why not" Dean still hadn't said yes or not so Sam pushed "Unless there's some reason you think we shouldn't Dean" When you stayed quiet Dean finally let out a breath "Meet you both in the garage in twenty"

------

You sat in the backseat of the impala doing your best not to look Dean's way so you busied yourself with talking to Sam,double checking emails from other hunters and even fussing with your suit jacket. When baby finally came to a stop outside of Mounted Treasures Taxidermy you were relieved to get out of close quarters. Maybe you needed a break from the bunker too? You'd decide after this case.

You fell in step behind Sam and let out a low whistle when you saw the words "DIE SCUM" written in what you hoped was just red paint on the side of the building. Dean cut his eyes at you "Subtle isn't it?" Sam pointed out a symbol on the end of the letter M. It was an upside down triangle with a paw print inside. "I don't recognize it" you said before Sam took a photo "We'll look it up later"

Dean opened the door and motioned for you to go ahead so you smirked "Age before beauty" he rolled his eyes but stepped inside so you walked in between him and Sam. The interior of the building was even less welcoming than the message on the wall "The creep factor just skyrocketed" Dean muttered and you nodded in agreement glancing around at all the mounted animals lining the walls.

When Dean spoke the officer who you were assuming was in charge of the scene turned and spotted the three of you "Woah woah woah" You knew the drill so you had your badge out before Sam did the introductions "Agents Michaels, Deville and Jameson" motioning to Dean, himself than you in turn. The officer immediately turned a lot friendlier "The body's already went to the morgue just wrapping it up with Dave Stephens" then explained that Mr Stephens was who discovered the body. You glanced at the back room then back to the officer when he added "Sure a shame. I used to go hunting with Max. He was a real good egg"

"Sorry for your loss" Dean told him and you nodded in agreement. The officer thanked you both so Dean then said "Mind showing my partners around? I just got a couple questions for Mr Stephens" The officer nodded "Ok, Come on"

You walked in behind Sam and spotted the "Game of thrones" themed animals on the desk and nudged Sam. He picked one up and turned getting Dean's attention. If looks could actually scold anyone the look Dean threw at you and Sam was Bobby level scolding so you smirked then took the animal from Sam and replaced it with the others. You turned back to Sam "So emf? Hex bags?" he shrugged "You take emf, I'll look for the bags"

After a few minutes with no luck you and Sam headed back to the front room. Dean excused himself from Mr Stephens and the officer when he saw the two of you coming. "Excuse us"

"So?" Sam asked. "We got a thief jonesing for animal parts, a pagan symbol and a human pretzel" Dean said so you replied "Yeah it sounds all witchy but there's no hex bags or proof of anything we normally deal with every being here" So Dean shrugged "Well let's keep digging" then you noticed him look up at an owl that was on the wall before he added "Just not here" You looked at the owl then back at Dean "Did he insult you? Should I defend your honor here?" he smirked "I just don't like the way that thing's looking at me"

You were walking back to baby when Dean cut his eyes at you "Y/N, you good with one room or do we need two?" you shrugged "I'm fine with one" so he nodded "One it is"

------

Dean was going through his bag and you were coming out of the bathroom when Sam said "The symbol in the graffiti..It's not wiccan, It's copywritten" You walked over to where he was sitting on the foot of one of the beds and leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen then up at Dean "Local animal rights group, Enid's answer to PETA" Sam turned the screen around and Dean read over the screen "S.N.A.R.T? You got to be kidding me" "Well it makes sense that an animal right's group would have an axe to grind with a taxidermist" you offered pushing off Sam's shoulder to stand back up.

"Why? The animal's already dead" Dean asked and Sam responded "Yeah but hunters are what keeps them in business" Dean rolled his eyes and Sam added "Now the question is are those bleeding hearts actually witches or just hippies?" "What's the difference?" Dean asked and you laughed under your breath "We can shoot the witches?"

------

Gentle Earth Vegan Bakery was listed on S.N.A.R.T'S website so that was where you all headed. When you stepped in the door Dean looked around then said "Always knew I'd find the source of all evil at a vegan bakery" you tilted your head then said "Just wish I would've packed my leather jacket just to screw with them" and was rewarded with a wink from Dean and an eye roll from Sam.

Sam sniffed and his nose scrunched up "What's that smell?" "Patchouli" Dean answered and when you and Sam both looked his way he added "Mixed with depression from meat deprivation" you shook your head then noticed that the guy behind the counter was wearing sunglasses so you nudged Dean who followed your line of sight "Know who wears sunglasses inside?" You asked and he answered "Blind people and douchebags?" you shrugged "Point for the eldest Winchester. Sammy try to keep up"

You followed the boys to the counter then spoke "Olivia and Dylan Camrose?" the man and woman behind the counter looked your way "Yes ma'am?" "You two are members of S.N.A.R.T.? correct?" you asked and Olivia smiled "Founders and Co Presidents actually" then held up a pamphlet "Can we interest you in some literature?" Sam shook his head politely so Dylan offered a flax seed scone that was wheat, gluten and sugar free. "I'm gonna stop you right there" Dean interrupted "We're here to investigate the death of Max Alexander, local taxidermist" "He's dead?" Olivia choked out and appeared to be genuine. "You knew him?" you asked and she looked at Dylan before answering "Ish. Small town"

"Well he was murdered last night and a S.N.A.R.T. logo was found at the crime scene" you told her and wished she'd take those damn glasses off so you had a chance of catching a reaction of some sort. "You two wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?" Sam pushed looking between the two of them.

------

Olivia and Dylan were a bust. Turned out while they were tagging the taxidermy place the night before they got spooked by a hissing sound and ran into the alley where they ended up getting maced. You didn't miss the irony of it but remained quiet when they removed their sunglasses to show their faces.

With no other leads you headed back to the motel to change and dig a little deeper because the "mace" on Dylan and Olivia didn't look like any macing you nor Sam had ever seen.

-------

You sat across from Sam while he typed into his laptop and took the beer Dean offered you. "Necrosis" Sam announced so Dean asked "Necrosis?" "Premature death of tissue, that's why their eyes were all messed up and it's not caused by mace" "Then what caused it?" you asked while Dean leaned over Sam to look at the screen.

"Blunt force, radiation, venom" Dean read off. "As in snake?" you asked and Sam shrugged "Taxidermist was constricted. Olivia and Dylan heard hissing and they were sprayed in the eyes" "By venom" you finished and took a sip of the beer.

"So we talking some sort of freaky ass snake monster?" Dean guessed sitting next to you on the chair and you shook your head at him but refused to move. Sam looked between you two then shrugged "Maybe but the weird thing is, snakes either envenomate or constrict. No snake does both" "Correction, freaky ass mega snake monster. Awesome" you scoffed which made Sam chuckle and offer "Could be a vetala?" "Yeah but they're not afraid to sink their fangs in" Dean brushed off the suggestion and you agreed "Taxidermist was bite free. Doesn't fit the profile"

Sam sighed "So we call Kevin? get him to look some stuff up?" "Best option we have at the moment" Dean agreed.

-------

With nothing else to do for the day Dean went to grab some food so all of you could eat and attempt to get a little sleep. You were sitting at the table in the room and Sam cleared his throat so you glanced up "Yeah?" you could tell he was wanting to say something but also not risk you getting upset at whatever it was so you stared at him expectantly "Just say it Sam"

He scratched behind his ear as he stood up and walked over to sit across from you "Is there something going on between you and Dean?" you didn't have to act in that moment because you were honestly confused "Huh?" he shrugged "Lots of conversations just from looks being passed back and forth. Dean worried about you leaving the bunker. The couple times I've walked into a room and the two of you jump apart.." You shook your head "There's nothing like that going on Sam. Just when you got so sick after the trials I guess it just pushed me back fully into your lives and then after the two of you talked me into moving into the bunker we're close quarters and all" He didn't look too awfully convinced but nodded nonetheless "Ok, I mean I just wanted to say I wouldn't have an issue with it. You both deserve someone to make you happy and if that happens to be each other.." you held up a hand to cut him off "We're friends Sam. That's it" about that time the door opened and Dean walked in carrying bags of food and soda and looked over at you and Sam "You two good?" you nodded "If you got my cheeseburger we are" and Dean grinned and held the bag out "Got your one and my three"

--------

You ended up sleeping in the same bed as Sam with you under the blanket and him sleeping on top of it. When you woke up Dean was making coffee and looked over "Sleep good?" you glared at Sam's side of the bed since he was already in the shower "Fucker snores, next time you're scooting over"

He smirked at that "Anytime you want in my bed just say the word" you bit the inside of your cheek to stop the warmth from spreading through your face, caused by his words then climbed out of the bed "Can I have a cup?" Dean held out the one in his hand "Here, we take it the same and I'll just grab me another one" you took it with a smile and teased "Dean Winchester dances and gives his coffee to a damsel in distress" He laughed "Sweetheart you may be a damsel, there may be times you are in distress but I haven't seen a lot you can't handle"

------

By the time you made it out the shower Dean was knocking on the door to tell you to go with the fed suit instead of usual jeans and t-shirt. There was another body on the ground at the animal shelter.

The body was of the guy who worked the front counter at the shelter. He had claw marks down the side of his face and according to the cops all the cats that had been registered at the shelter were now missing. "So yesterday snake monster, today killer kitty?" Dean scoffed and you cut your eyes at Sam who said "I don't know" Dean stopped both of you and pointed at a pen "Doesn't that mutt look familiar?" "He's from the first crime scene isn't he?" you asked and Sam doubled checked the clipboard on the pen and nodded.

"So he's been at both crime scenes, suspect?" you asked looking at Dean who agreed with you by saying "Could be a skinwalker or a shapeshifter" "Doesn't really look like a monster to me" Sam was looking at the dog but Dean had already dug a silver coin out of his pocket "One way to find out" Dean squatted and called the dog to the gate. He rubbed the coin behind the dog's ears but there was no reaction. "Well at least the pooch isn't the killer?" you said about the time the officer from the first crime scene walked up and the taxidermist's dog started barking until the officer took his hat off. He spoke to Sam but Dean noticed what you did especially when the dog once again started barking when the officer put his hat back on.

"Can we borrow your hat?" you asked and he handed it over. You held it right over Dean's head and the dog started barking until you pulled the hat down. You cut your eyes at Dean then handed the hat back. The officer snarled "Good luck getting adopted" at the dog and you had the strongest urge to punch the damn cop.

Sam read the clipboard again "So Colonel's not a suspect" "He's a witness" Dean confirmed. You squatted down and scratched Colonel's head "You speak sign language buddy?" he whined at you and tilted his head so you could scratch further. Sam perked up "No but there may be another option" and pulled his phone out. You curiously looked at Dean who shrugged until Sam said "Hey Kevin, it's me.. how do we speak to a dog?"

The shelter let you take Colonel with you so you sat in the backseat of baby with him laid across your lap back to the motel.

------

Kevin called back with the spell about the same time you made it back to the motel so Sam was currently combining the ingredients? while Dean sat across the table and you sat on the floor next to the table with Colonel. "So it's an Inuit spell?" you asked. Sam looked up from the bowl "Yeah, who knew the men of letters had its own eskimo section?"

"And it's supposed to let us communicate with the Colonel?" Dean asked looking at the dog who had his head laying in your lap where you were sitting leaned against Dean's chair. "Yeah..well that's the plan" Sam plucked a few hair from the Colonel then explained that it was a sort of animal/human mind meld which meant if it worked whoever drank it would be able to read the Colonel's thoughts.

You watched Sam pour the foul looking concoction and was glad when Dean grabbed it "I'll do it" he looked into the cup and at the face you were making "Doesn't look so bad" he downed it in a gulp and his entire face twisted for a moment "I was wrong"

Dean read off the spell but the Colonel barely moved. Dean tried to talk to him but to no avail so it was decided to get some lunch then call Kevin for more ideas.

------

You were sitting on the foot of one of the beds when Dean looked at the Colonel "What?" "What?" you and Sam echoed. "Shut up! It's working" Dean clarified then looked back at the Colonel "Say that again" after a moment Dean said "Dennis DeYoung's not a punk" you were more than a little lost but amused that the dog was apparently arguing with Dean. "Dean! Focus!"

"Oh yeah" he looked back at the Colonel "Hey boy, what were you trying to tell us about the coyboy hat?" you and Sam sat watching the scene unfold which even though the two of you could only hear one side it was clear there was a full conversation happening. "and the pothead too?" Dean asked and Sam glanced at you then turned his attention back to them. Sam threw a balled up napkin in the trash and told Dean to ask about the cats. Dean threw the paper back to Sam then asked about the cats. "I don't want this" Sam told him then chunked the napkin again.

You laughed when you realized that the mind meld was more than talking when Dean once again retrieved the napkin and said that the guy who was doing the killings smelled like ground chuck, soap suds and old lady cream. Sam finally held up the napkin "Dean, what are you doing?" Dean scratched his head in the same spot the Colonel had kept urging you to scratch on his "I don't know"

When Dean started beating on the window yelling at the mailman you fell over on the bed laughing "Dean's a dog dude!"

------

While Sam called Kevin to check side effects on the spell you sat between Dean and the Colonel. You weren't really paying attention to either until the Colonel bumped your knee so you absentmindedly scratched his head. It made you freeze when Dean let out a light whimper and you looked to see he was looking at your other hand "Are you serious?" he looked at the colonel "He's being smug that you're scratching his head" The colonel looked up at you and if you'd ever seen a dog laugh it was in that moment so you scooted over so you scratch Dean's head too. He let out a contented sigh and laid his head over on your thigh.

Sam hung up and arched an eyebrow at your current position so you stopped scratching both of them despite the whimpers so he could explain the spell's side effects which was what Dean was experiencing.

A few words were passed between Dean and the Colonel and you had to laugh again when Dean announced "I don't have the urge to sniff butts" "Dean?" you asked and he seemed offended "No! Sam how long will this last?" "Kevin doesn't know" he replied and you ran a hand across your face, as if your life could get weirder.

Dean pulled a candy bar out of his jacket pocket and you grabbed it out of his hand "Woah! What the hell Y/N?" you motioned to the Colonel "Dogs can't have chocolate Dean. Do you really want to test it?" the Colonel looked at you and let out a sharp bark so you looked back at Dean "What'd he say?" Dean glared at the dog then answered "He said you're cute for a human and smart" "Aww, thank you" you cooed rubbing the Colonel's back and could've sworn Dean let out a light growl of all things? Sam looked between the three of you then said "Let's head back to the shelter to see if we can find more clues because I swear Dean's getting jealous over a dog" "Am not" Dean argued but cut his eyes at the Colonel as he spoke.

------

After you and Sam having to de escalate an argument between Dean and a pigeon you were in tears from laughing as you climbed in the backseat with the Colonel and it only got worse when they both wanted to hang their head out of the windows.

------

When you got the shelter Dean argued with the Colonel for a second before saying "Y/N, he wants you to hold his leash" you winked at the Colonel then grabbed his leash as you climbed out and held the door open for him "C'mon big guy" he climbed out behind you and looked up at Dean who glared at the dog. "Quit being smug you asshole"

Watching Dean interrogate dogs was somewhere between just weird and the absolute best entertainment you'd had in years. A yorkie turned out to be a star witness and wanted a belly rub from Sam in return for information. You stood there watching Sam scratch the yorkie while chewing your bottom lip to not laugh. Apparently the whatever you were after had a sweet tooth for cats according to the yorkie.

The burlap sack the guy had taken the cats from the shelter in had "Avant-Garde Cuisine" written on it so that was finally a solid lead along with a vague description of the guy.

When you were about to leave Dean said "Hold up" and passed you the Colonel's leash then went back and opened all the cages. You shook your head with a laugh when he said "Ok, now let's go"

------

You were once again herded between Sam and Dean as the three of you walked into the restaurant after Sam picked the lock. In the first office you found a photo of "Chef Leo" who wore a cowboy hat like the yorkie had described along with a frickin pharmacy worth of pain meds.

You were going through a drawer when Dean said "Did you hear that?" you glanced at Sam the shook your head "No?" "Sounded like little kids" Dean explained so you stood up straight and strained your ears to no avail.

It turned out to be a cage of rats who lead Dean to the fridge that contained everything from cheetah liver to grizzly heart while Sam found a shamanism spell book. According to the book whatever animal organ you ingested along with the right mix of hoodoo and spices resulted in the temporary gain of the power of that said animal.

Meaning owl brains for IQ, Cheetah liver for speed..etc

A clanging drew all of your attention so Sam killed the only light in the room and you all pulled your guns and flashlights then headed out into the hall.

-------

The hall was empty so you moved into the kitchen clearing each corner carefully. There was a lone cook so when he asked who you were Dean said you were all from the health department for a surprise inspection.

He told you all that the reason the restaurant was closed was due to the chef having a private party and would be there any minute. "In that case you're shut down" you ordered and glanced at Sam who added "You're clearly in violation of penal code eight fourteen" "You heard em! Out Now" Dean barked out and they quickly moved to comply.

Dean took the front, you took the halls and Sam took the back to try to find the chef. Working plan was to simply empty a clip into his head and hope for the best.

------

After a fight with the good chef Leo resulting in Sam getting knocked out, you getting slashed on the arm and Dean calling in an entire pack of dogs as assistance the good chef got exactly what he had coming.

When Dean ran back into the kitchen you were crouched over Sam trying to wake him up. "C'mon Sam!" "Y/N!" Dean hollered so you shouted "OVER HERE" he slid to a stop at your side and crouched next to you "He's alive Dean" he let of a breath of relief when Sam finally stirred. "Thank god" Dean helped Sam to his feet then looked at your arm "Do you need stitches?" you shook your head "I don't think so"

The three of you made it outside in enough time to see some bloody dogs running away from the heap that had been chef Leo.

------

After getting the Colonel adopted out to Olivia and Dylan you hit the road back to the bunker. The only unfortunate thing was chef Leo had put some doubt in Sam's head by asking what Sam was. From what you and Dean could piece together Leo had slit Sam's throat and Zeke healed him. Wasn't like the two of you could tell him that so instead you convinced him that Leo was simply out of his head.

When Dean pulled out onto the road he shot you a look in the mirror and you met his gaze fully. "It'll be ok" you mouthed and he smiled then turned his eyes to the road.

Tags: @facadeformyrealblog @akshi8278

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #always be yours

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writingfromkitchenator · 3 years

Text

The Demon, The Hunter, and The Halfblood

Masterlist

Crowley x Original Female Character

Series Warnings: A/B/O series, some Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha x Omega, obligatory smut warning here (as usual, no under 18′s please, specifics will be within chapter warnings as needed), violence, blood, fluff, angst, major character death, possession, swearing

Chapter 10

Words: 2,802

“So this is where they hang out now?” Madelyn asked as they appeared in the bunker, looking around, her gaze quickly drawn to the stacks of book shelves and weapons. “They have all this and they still get stuck?”

Crowley chuckled, not missing the look of curiosity in her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to go through some of them love, although, I would recommend not around Casey.”

Madelyn shot him a look before rolling her eyes. “Come on, let’s get this fixed up so we can make sure she’s safe from everything out there first.”

He smirked after her, watching as she paused before looking back at him. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me make an idiot out of myself?”

Crowley laughed, going to her and kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Isn’t that what you normally do?”

“Watch it mister,” Madelyn said, following after him, smiling. “We’re alone here. I can do to you as I please.”

“That isn’t exactly a warning.”

“Try me, dear, I promise I can still surprise you.”

“I would never doubt otherwise.”

It took a little time but eventually Crowley went looking for Madelyn, done with his wards and couldn’t help but smile when he found her seated, her head in a book, looking like she was taking it far too seriously. He leaned against the doorway, watching her for a long moment. He’d never admit it, but it was seeing her in quiet moments like this that he could never get enough of.

Sadly, he knew he couldn’t linger too long, knowing that Casey was at stake.

“Of all the books you’ve accessed to over the last few years,” He said, walking over to her and ignoring her eye roll. “You choose these ones to sit down and start reading?”

“Well, considering these ones I can actually read,” Madelyn said, turning the page. “And aren’t in Enochian or whatever other languages your books are in. Have they really not taken a lot of time to read these?”

Crowley shrugged. “With the way those two work? I doubt it.”

Madelyn hummed before thinking for a moment, a slight worry creasing her brow. “We have to keep Casey away from these. She’s not ready for anything like this yet.”

“Obviously,” He said, joining her and tugging the book out of her hands. “Although, I keep telling you, you aren’t going to be able to stop her curiosity forever, especially when she knows what I am, and Castiel.”

She sighed, watching as he put the book down. “And the demons that got her the other day, and my own set of unique abilities and-” Madelyn rubbed her forehead. “Too much to think about.”

Crowley held out his hand and Madelyn took it, letting him pull her to feet, quickly pulling her into his arms. “Stop worrying so much love.”

Madelyn scoffed a little. “And you aren’t?”

He grinned. “Not in a way that I’m letting it show.”

She laughed and he kissed her, making her sigh and lean into him.

“Feeling the effects already are we?” He said against her lips. “Your brothers are going to love that.”

“Don’t care.” Madelyn pulled him in for a firmer kiss, and he let her stay for as long as she needed to.

When she did pull away with a slightly frustrated sigh, she shook her head. “Come on, let’s go get her, we can get Cas to check our warding over.”

“Don’t you trust us?”

“You know I like another set of eyes going over it.”

Casey was more than ready to go when they returned and Crowley quickly took her, disappearing with Castiel, leaving Madelyn with Sam, Dean and Bobby, Dean still not looking overly impressed about the situation but he seemed to know better than to say anything.

Madelyn took a seat. “So, I know we still have a lot to go over, but are you going to tell me anything about your problem Dean?”

“I don’t have a problem.” Dean grumbled, avoiding her gaze.

“Right,” Madelyn smiled sympathetically. “Come on Dean, I know about the mark, I know how you got the bloody thing. Did I agree with it? No, but I can see why he did it. Does it make it right? No, but he is a demon and I honestly wouldn’t have expected anything less. Now, you guys are helping us, so it’s only fair that I do the same in return, despite current tensions. So, what do you know?”

“Not a lot.” Sam and Bobby said together, even as Dean shot them both a look.

“The original Mark of Cain was incredibly powerful,” Sam said. “I can’t even begin to fathom what sort of magic was used to first create it, and this is much the same of that. It seems to have the capabilities of being passed on, although how we may ever be able to do that-”

“I’ve told you already that no one else is bearing this burden.” Dean said sharply. “Even if we did know I wouldn’t agree to it.”

“So you just want to be a Knight of Hell again?” Sam asked. “Come on Dean, if we can sort something out-”

“No Sam.” Dean said, shooting him a look. “This is my responsibility and I’ll sort it out. I don’t need any of you getting into trouble for me.”

“You’re a stubborn arse Dean,” Madelyn said with a smile. “In a way, I’m glad nothing’s changed, but in another, I’m very frustrated by it. We’re helping you whether you like it or not.”

“And I’d much prefer knowing your full story before I decide whether I trust you or not,” Dean growled, holding Madelyn’s amused gaze. “You might admit that he was wrong in doing in, but you still don’t seem overly worried by it.”

Madelyn raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “What’s done is done, all we can do is try and make the best of it. I had to take the same attitude with this, otherwise I think I would’ve gone made from overthinking it, among other things. We’ve had a lot of shit happen to us all over the years Dean, but we’ve always worked better together when it came down to it.”

Dean scoffed. “That coming from you right now, means jack.”

She pursed her lips, but at that moment, Crowley returned. “Right. Shall we all make ourselves comfortable back at the bunker?”

“Sounds good to me.” Madelyn stands, pulling Crowley’s jacket tighter around her as she stepped next to him. “I’ll see you guys there.”

Crowley takes the hint and before the three of them can say anything, disappears with her again.

When Sam, Dean and Bobby arrived sometime later, it was clear that Dean was in no better a mood, especially when he saw Madelyn simply sitting reading a book, Castiel and Crowley nowhere in sight.

“They’re making a few more changes before you ask,” Madelyn said, not looking up. “They’ll be back shortly. Casey is currently down for a nap.”

Dean went to say something but Sam nudged him and shook his head. They’d already had an argument in the car ride there and Sam had practically demanded that Dean had to hold himself in check until they knew the whole truth. The more he pushed, the more Madelyn was going to push back, and the less they were going to get.

The two of them disappeared towards the kitchen while Bobby took a seat next to her. “I know this is probably a shitty thing to ask, given everything, but are you holding up okay?”

Madelyn nodded, still not looking up from the book. “Of course. I’ve never been one to just throw in the towel.”

“That’s not what I meant Mads.” Bobby said gently. “Despite how you feel now, has he treated you right through all this?”

“Of course.”

“Madelyn…”

She sighed, finally putting the book down and looking at him. “Bobby, I appreciate it, I do, but despite…a few hiccups along the way, yes, he has. I get where you’re coming from and I don’t blame you for thinking like that, he is a demon after all, but apart from a few hunts he threw me on, and being a general pain in the arse at times, it has actually been okay.”

“I’ll try not to take offense to that love.” Crowley said, hiding a smile as he and Castiel walked down the stairs.

Madelyn smiled at him, but looked back at Bobby. “It’s fine Bobby, I promise.”

He didn’t look convinced, but let it drop as Crowley and Castiel joined them at the table and Sam and Dean returned with beers in hand.

“Let’s get this over with.” Dean grumbled as he sat heavily in his chair.

Crowley rolled his eyes and looked at Madelyn, who shrugged. “Well, because you asked so nicely.”

“Because it was such a wonderful discussion.” Madelyn said under her breath, but innocently looked away from Dean’s glare.

Crowley chuckled. “I would never accuse you of such a thing darling. You’ve been far too much of pain for me to ever say that.”

Madelyn grumbled something under her breath, which Crowley decided it was best to ignore.

“As for this situation we’ve got ourselves in,” He continued lightly, earning a dark look from her. “I think the most obvious thing to point out is that we need to keep it a secret. I don’t think either of us would fair overly well should word get out that this has happened.”

“As much as I hate to say it, we can agree on that.” She frowned at him. “I’m surprised that you would want it that way, actually, considering how much it can be used against me.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his coffee. “What you think can be used against you would be about ten times worse for me, I assure you. I have far more enemies than any of you seem to believe. If a demon against me so much as got a whiff of this, then you would be in danger quicker than you can say welcome to hell.”

“And my brothers would be more than likely to try and kill you again,” Madelyn sighed. “Alright, point taken. So, where do we go from here?”

He shrugged, much to her distaste. “Continue on as normal until the situation tells us otherwise.”

“Until I get my next heat, you mean?” She grumbled. “What a swell thing this is going to be?”

“Oh? Do you have another suggestion?”

Madelyn goes to say something before she shakes her head. “No, no of course not.”

Crowley knew that there was more to it, but for the moment he decided to let it go. “This isn’t ideal for me either, that I promise you, and we’re going to have to be careful so as no one picks up a pattern. It’s going to…take time to get used to, and frankly, you should just be grateful that demons don’t get ruts.”

She blanched and scowled at him. “Yes, thank you for that bit of information, it was exactly what I wanted to know.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I could go much more in depth if you wanted. I’ve been dealing with all these charming natures for a long time now.”

“No thank you.” Madelyn tightened the scarf around her neck, finishing her coffee. “I think just leaving it like this for now is perfectly fine.”

“Just fine,” Crowley corrected. “Because there’s certainly nothing perfect about it.”

Madelyn rolled her eyes. “Right. Don’t flatter yourself too much Crowley, or I might just throw a well thought out insult your way, and trust me, I have more than a few after all this.”

Crowley smirked, although his eyes had watched every movement she made with the scarf. “Don’t get too comfortable with me now, darling. People might begin to think that we’re civilized with each other.”

Despite herself, she smiled. “Civilized Crowley? I didn’t think you’d have that in you.”

“Seriously?” Dean growled from across the table. “You two are disgusting.”

“That’s cute Dean, considering I’ve seen how you interact with the opposite sex.” Madelyn said, earning a dark look from Dean. “At the time, I was trying to lighten the situation a little, and given the situation that the two of us were forced into, it seemed appropriate.”

Bobby quickly interrupted Dean’s next comment. “Okay, so the two of you agreed to keep it a secret, which is fair, especially with what was happening, but are you really telling us that you didn’t meet at all before your next heat?”

Madelyn blanched a little and Crowley sighed, taking over. “Not exactly. In fact, I made the mistake of contacting her about a particular demon I needed help with. Madelyn was…less than pleased about. Felt I was taking advantage of the situation.”

“Which you were.” Madelyn said, a little irritably. “It didn’t stop you from trying, multiple times either.”

Crowley shrugged. “You never said no, and I’ve always been one to use my resources. At first we had thought that these interactions had then led to the next particular interaction, due to the demon activity I was getting her involved in, and the fact that we were technically seeing each other more than what we had agreed.”

“There was also the fact that I had told you where to go after the last particular one almost got me killed.” Madelyn said lightly.

“Yes, there’s that too.” Crowley said. “But it wasn’t till much later that we properly figured it out, hence our earlier comments about how this could potentially affect all Omega’s with demons.”

“What did it effect?” Sam asked, frowning at them.

It was Castiel that answered, looking between the two of them. “That was when you went into rut, wasn’t it?”

Crowley nodded slowly as Sam and Dean flinched. “Yes, which eventually, of course, lead to our dear Casey.”

“But demons can’t-”

“It’s not a matter of can’t,” Crowley cut Dean off. “In fact, early on, most demons still have to go into whatever they need. The older we get, the more control we have over it until we don’t feel the effects at all unless we really want to. In this case, however, it was nowhere in my plan to ever do such a thing, but it seemed, again, that they choice was going to be made for us.”

“It was from the effects of my blood,” Madelyn said quietly, cutting them off before one of them could ask a question. “Whatever Azazel had done to me, in turn, affected Crowley. It wasn’t an intentional thing on anyone’s behalf, in fact, at the time, I wanted nothing to do with him, but we had to deal with it much like we’d already done.”

“It…wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience, for either of us.” Crowley said, frowning slightly. “It had been a long time since I’d ever gone through such a thing, so I was…a little beyond control, and then there was the fact that Madelyn’s heat was only a week away at the time. I’m sure you can all imagine that such an event led to it triggering early.”

“Unless you want the gritty details, I suggest you stop asking questions.” Madelyn said flatly. “That’s what happened. That’s all you need to know.”

There was an awkward silence for a long moment, no one overly sure what to say next.

“So…what happened after that?” Sam asked, clearly his throat when Madelyn seemed to frown. “We just want to get to the end of the story Maddie, I’m not trying to intrude or-”

Madelyn shook her head though and stood. “No. It has to wait for the moment.”

“Oh come on!” Dean said, straightening out. “You can’t keep-”

“Now is not the time Dean,” Madelyn said seriously and she looked at Castiel. “I hate to ask again-”

“She’ll be fine,” Castiel said with a nod, understanding. “She’s more than safe here.”

Crowley was frowning at Madelyn. “I know we joked but-”

Madelyn sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“Madelyn-”

“Crowley, I need to go.” She said softly. “Please.”

“Alright,” He stood and joined her, taking her arm, feeling the tension in her body, looking just a little worried as he looked back at the others. “We know this is rather inconvenient time, trust us, but we’ll be back as soon as Madelyn is able.”

With that, they just disappeared, Sam and Bobby looking at Castiel as Dean slammed his hands down on the table.

Castiel sighed. “This has been happening more frequently. We’re still not sure what’s causing it.”

“Probably the damned demon blood.” Dean growled.

“It’s possible,” Castiel nodded slowly. “The problem is Dean, if she stops that, she will die.”

#supernatural #the demon the hunter and the halfblood #crowley #crowley x original female character #long fic #fic series #crowley fridays #sister winchester #alpha x omega #a/b/o

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