#time traveler dean

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 9: Vintage

Dean sheepishly drags his feet into the costume room.

“What did you do this time?” Cas demands, rushing out from behind a rack of flapper dresses, his voice a growl of pure exasperation.

Dean plucks at his shirt with its arm half-torn off and lifts his other arm holding his bloody jacket. “Hello to you too, Cas. I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Castiel ignores him and snatches the emerald jacket back, frowning as he fingers the bullethole in the arm and the trail of dried blood all the way down to the cuff. “This was hand sewn,” Cas moans, running his fingers down the embroidery along the lapel, splattered with smears of red.

“Sorry?” Dean smiles crookedly. “I really tried my best not to get shot, I swear.”

“Not hard enough,” Cas grumbles as he gestures at the dressing room. As Dean undoes the buttons of his breeches, Cas calls from beyond the curtain, “Sam and Jo escaped unscathed, then?”

“The brass needed the debrief as soon as possible.” Dean shoves the pants down and kicks them off. “Sam and Jo sent me in in the meantime so you could see the worst of it.”

“At least some people have respect for my work.”

“Jo complains more than I do!”

“She’s a woman,” Cas says dryly.

Dean grimaces at his reflection in the mirror. “Don’t tell Jo I said this, but that’s not cool, man. Don’t be sexist.”

“I meant, women, on average, have more unwieldy clothing than men,” Cas says, sounding more amused than offended at Dean’s callout. “Not to mention the constant emphasis on a woman’s silhouette – the corsets, the stays, the girdles.”

Dean shudders. He’s gotten an earful (or five) from Jo about boning – and not the fun kind.

“Have you ever worn a girdle, Dean?”

Dean coughs. “Can’t say I have,” he half-lies. The lingerie in question in the back of his closet was only modeled after a girdle. From what he’s learned from Jo, the real deal wasn’t nearly that flimsy or lacy.

“Exactly,” Cas says in a satisfied tone of voice.

Dean chuckles as he unbuttons his shirt. “Y’know, one of the dudes at the Continental Congress actually – shit.”

“Everything alright?”

His bicep throbbing, Dean mutters, “Yeah.” He winces as he tries to take off an 18th century shirt one-handed. The bullet, at least, was from the 21st century – Dean really didn’t need to find out how being shot with a fucking musket felt like – and it only grazed him, besides. “Arm’s a little out of commission, but I’m makin’ do.”

Cas yanks the curtain aside.

“Hey,” Dean protests.

Cas just rolls his eyes as he reaches for the shirt. “You’ll pop a seam at this rate.”

“I was being careful!”

“Your definition of ‘careful’ has been driving Colonel Singer to drink since you started at the Time Bureau,” Cas says in a clipped voice. But despite his words, his hands are gentle as they ease the fabric off Dean’s shoulder and down his arm.

“Bobby’s always been like that,” Dean dismisses.

Cas folds the shirt up to reuse the fabric and picks Dean’s breeches off the floor. “Socks too, please,” he says as he flips the curtain shut again.

With a sigh, Dean sits on the little bench in the changing room and wrestles off his socks. Through the gap in the curtain, he trades them for the bundle of clothing he left with Cas before his trip to the past. 

Dean sets his clothes on the bench with a frown. “Where’s my shirt?” 

“I burned it.”

“Cas!”

“Get dressed, Dean.”

Dean angrily pulls on his jeans and socks, tucking in the laces of inside his boots since he’s not about to attempt tying a bow one-handed. He wrenches the curtain aside to reveal Cas with a gray woolen robe draped over one arm. 

“Here,” he says, holding it open for Dean to step into. “This won’t aggravate your injury.”

Dean doesn’t move. “Is that…” he drifts off.

Cas smiles shyly. “Yes, this is the same one you stole from Tyrone Power in 1955. I finished making a replica a few days ago and thought this would be a good time to return it to you.”

Dean steps forward to slide his arms into the billowy sleeves. “Isn’t this technically Time Bureau property?”

Cas leans forward and gives the worst attempt at a wink that Dean has seen in years. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Dean has to laugh.

Pleased, Cas steps back. “You should go to medical, and let them decide if you need stitches.”

Dean gingerly touches the cut with his good hand. “Yeah, probably. See ya, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

* * *

“What do you mean, you went to 1943?” Cas thunders.

“I mean,” Dean retorts heatedly, “we went to nineteen forty fucking three and got pegged as fucking Nazi spies within eight hours. All because of our goddamn clothes!”

“Well, of course you did,” Cas says, a cutting know-it-all edge to his voice. “Because you told me the mission was to 1941.”

“So what?” Dean hisses. “I was off by two damn years. Big whoop.”

“That’s two wartime years,” Cas corrects, his eyes narrowing. “That’s two years of rationing, of wartime production restrictions. Fashion, just like everything else, changes with history, sometimes very quickly.” He gestures to the racks and racks of historically accurate costumes around them. “Or else I wouldn’t have a job.”

Dean, unwilling to admit defeat, storms off into the changing room.

* * *

Cas comes through three days before Sam, Dean, and Jo’s mission to 1987.

“This is awesome.” Dean hugs the leather jacket to his chest. He looks up at Cas, who has a strange expression on his face. “You’re a goddamn miracle worker, you know that?”

Cas flushes. “I already had a similar one on hand. It was a simple matter of finding a matching lining, replacing the buttons, and adjusting a few of the seams.”

“Still,” Dean says, stroking the leather reverently, “this looks exactly like my dad’s.”

The corners of Cas’s mouth lift in a small smile. “As long as it’s period-appropriate, I am always happy to tailor for the Winchesters.”

Dean snorts. “You and I both know that’s a lie.” He tries it on, and the sleeves hit at the right length, below his wrist but stopping before the first knuckle of his thumb. The collar, relaxed with age, brushes up against the right spot on his neck.

“I’m glad you like it, Dean,” Cas says quietly.

“I love it.”

* * *

“You’ve got to be joking,” Dean says, horrified.

Cas’s stony expression doesn’t twitch. “I’m afraid not.”

“I’m not wearing that.”

Cas shakes the bellbottoms. “I need to see if they fit you.”

“They don’t,” Dean says, backing up. “I can tell you that right now.”

Cas cracks a smile. “If you thought the ’43 interrogation was bad, just imagine what it would be like with disco music in the background.”

Dean shudders. "I hate you so much," he says as he snatches the outfit out of Cas's hands and stalks over to the changing rooms.

“Once you’re done, I have a pair of roller skates for you to try on too, as I was told the exchange will take place at a roller rink.”

Dean pokes his head through the curtain. "No fucking way."

"Sam tried his on yesterday," Cas says with a knowing smile. "I took a video of his first practice skate."

Dean sighs loudly. "Give 'em here. And if you're lying about that video, so help me god, they'll be no stayin' alive in your future, buddy."

* * * 

Dean should've known the mission to save the Pony Express was too good to be true.

Whenever he pictured himself in a shootout, he always saw himself coolly walking away from the fight, his gun still smoking, maybe a dramatic sunrise in the background.

Not laying on the ground in the dirt, baking under the Wyoming sun, a blinding pain in his side from getting fucking shot – again.

What’s worse, as Dean chased the fake pony rider determined to kill a teenage Buffalo Bill on his route, he lost his goddamn hat. Cas is going to kill him.

At least he got the bad guy. Too bad they shot each other at the same time.

One shot was fatal.

The other’s still to be determined. Hurts like a bitch, though.

His horse took off when Dean fell, spooked by the shots and shouting. Even if Dean could stagger to his feet, there’s no way in the world he can walk back to 1861’s excuse for civilization in the Wild, Wild West.

Dean rolls over onto his back in a stupid effort to keep the blood inside his body by sheer gravity alone. He’s going to die out here in the middle of nowhere, a century before he’s even born.

“Dean?”

Dean groans. He’d been expecting his life to flash before his eyes. Not hallucinations. But as far as hallucinations go, Cas’s voice isn’t a bad last one to hear.

“Dean!”

Someone scrambles in the dirt next to him, and Dean turns his head to actually see Cas, wearing a dusty kerchief wrapped around his neck, an equally dusty tan shirt, and beat up wool pants. He swings his mailbag to his front and pulls out a first aid kit, straight from the 21st century.

“Cas?” Dean says weakly, “You’re in the field?”

Cas smiles humorlessly as he presses a pad of pristine white gauze down on Dean’s side. Over Dean’s groan of pain, he says, “Someone had to make sure you’re taking care of your clothes.”

“Son of a –!” Dean inhales a sharp breath.

“It’s good I came,” Cas says as his brow furrows with worry. With his free hand, he lifts the medical tape to his mouth and rips off a piece with his teeth. 

It’s a good thing all Dean's blood is gushing out of his side, or else it would’ve gone straight to dick at that sight. 

“You’re a little late to save the shirt,” Dean pants.

“But not to save you,” Cas says grimly. “We’re going to move in 15 seconds; prepare yourself.”

“Wait –”

“Move.” Cas yanks him up, and Dean nearly blacks out from the pain. “Ten minutes,” he promises in Dean’s ear. “We’re ten minutes from the Sandy Crossing relay station. Sam already confirmed Bill made it to Fort Laramie.”

“Good,” Dean grunts as Cas half carries, half drags him on his horse, a roan mare. He lets Dean catch his breath after mounting up and urges his horse into a canter.

Dean cries out at the jostling, and Cas wraps a hand around his middle to keep him still. It’s impossible on top of a horse going at full speed, but Dean can appreciate the gesture. Despite his appearance, Cas doesn’t smell like he spent a week camping out in a field of buffalo, taking dust baths in his free time. He smells crisp with the faintest scent of vanilla.

“Talk to me. Distract me,” Dean orders, his voice tight with pain.

Cas glances down at him and nods. “With what?”

“How’d you learn to ride?”

“In prep school,” Cas says, his gaze once again focused on the horizon. “I found I much preferred horses to my peers.” 

Dean would laugh, but his chest hurts too much.

“But I haven’t ridden a horse in close to a decade,” Cas says.

“Just like riding a bike,” Dean huffs in between trying to breathe through the pain.

“Better than, since I don’t know how to ride a bike,” Cas says wryly.

Dean musters a grin. “Good thing I didn’t get shot at the Tour de France.”

“A very good thing,” Cas echoes.

“Is that why they sent you?” Dean asks, wincing as his wound flares. “Your killer horseback riding skills?”

Cas shakes his head, blushing under the thin coating of dirt on his cheeks. “They don’t know I’m here.”

“What?”

“I have a deal with one of the engineers. I outfit him for joy rides when the emergency ship isn’t in use, and he brings me back an outfit or two so I can learn more about fashion history first hand.” Cas’s arm tenses around his middle. “I forced him to pilot me here once I heard you didn’t get back with Sam and Jo.”

“Dude.”

Cas stares straight ahead. “They wouldn’t have been able to find you,” he says, his expression hard. “They kept going on and on about possible points along the Express you could’ve gotten waylaid, but I knew you were hellbent on exploring this shortcut, so.” His mouth tightens. “They wouldn’t listen to me since I’m just the tailor.”

“You were,” Dean licks his dry lips, “listening to me? When I was going on and on about cowboys and shit? Seriously?”

“Of course,” Cas says like it’s obvious, “I always listen when you talk, Dean.”

Dean sags against Cas. “When we get back,” he swears, “I’m gonna take you to the World’s Fair in 1893. Everyone who was anyone went to that thing; you’ll see outfits from all over.”

Cas shakes his head. “You don’t need to repay me for this. You deserve to be saved, no matter what your rivals at the Bureau think.”

“I get it, no repayment,” Dean twists around so he can see Cas properly and ignores how his side throbs in protest, “but how about a date?”

[sunbleachedf4wn]

do you see the vision?

[weaksspot]

long as i am loving you you’ll never be alone long as you keep wanting me around

[lovemydarkestsecrets-blog]

Future love, Past memories

Inspired by this photo:

“So, in your timeline,” Sam began hesitantly, turning away from the book in front of him to glance at his much older brother. The years had not been kind to Dean—his face was rugged and worn, with lines etched deep from countless battles and heartaches. Yet, there was something about his ruggedness that made Sam’s heart skip a beat, something raw and undeniably captivating. “what am I like?”

Dean smiled softly, memories flooding back. "You’re incredible, Sammy. You're strong and brave, but more than that, you’re kind. You always put others first, even when it hurts you. You’ve got this heart that just... shines, you know? You’re the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Sam's breath caught, his heart pounding at the depth of Dean's words. He looked at Dean, really looked at him—the greying hair, the scars, the weariness in his eyes. And in that moment, Sam saw beyond the rugged exterior to the man who had always been his protector, his constant. There was something in the way Dean looked at him, something he had never allowed himself to see before. It was overwhelming, confusing, and yet... it felt right.

"Dean," Sam said quietly, his voice trembling slightly, "What's our relationship like?"

Dean paused for a moment, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face before he smiled softly. "We've never been closer. We're... partners, in every sense of the word. We hunt together, we take care of each other, and... we love each other. It's not always easy, but it's real. It's the best thing in my life."

Sam's breath caught again, this time at the implication of Dean's words. He tried to process it all—the idea of a deeper, more intimate connection with his brother in the future. It felt overwhelming but also strangely comforting. He and Dean would end up together? This beautiful man would be his?

"Do you have a photo of older me?" Sam asked, his curiosity in full force. If Dean looked like this, what would he look like?

Dean bit the inside of his lip before he nodded. "Yeah, actually, I have a lot of photos." He pulled out his wallet and carefully extracted a worn Polaroid. He handed it to Sam with a bittersweet smile.

Sam took the photo and studied it intently. It was a picture of them during their first Christmas at the bunker. Both of them wore Santa hats—Dean's slightly askew, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. Sam, on the other hand, was beaming, his smile wide and genuine, a twinkle in his eye that spoke of a rare moment of pure joy. The background showed a simple but warmly decorated room, with a small Christmas tree adorned with a mix of traditional ornaments and a few quirky ones that were clearly picked out by Sam. Dean's arm was around Sam's shoulders, pulling him close, and there was an undeniable warmth and affection radiating from both of them.

"You never gave up on me," Dean whispered, staring at the photo of the man he loved the most. The memory of that Christmas flooded back—how Sam had insisted on celebrating despite everything, how he had managed to make Dean laugh and relax, even if just for a little while. "You always found a way to bring light into my life, no matter how dark things got. I miss you so much, Sammy. Every moment without you feels like a piece of me is missing."

Sam looked up from the photo, his heart aching at the raw emotion in Dean's voice. He could see the longing in Dean's eyes, the deep, unyielding love he held for his future self. It was overwhelming to realize just how much they meant to each other.

Without thinking, Sam leaned in and pressed his lips to Dean's. The kiss was tender, filled with all the unspoken emotions that had been building up inside them. Dean's heart ached with longing and love, knowing that this wasn't his Sam, but feeling the connection all the same. He savored the moment, feeling the softness of Sam's lips, the warmth of his touch, the innocence that his own timeline's battles had stripped away.

When they finally pulled apart, Dean rested his forehead against Sam’s, closing his eyes to hold onto the fleeting moment. “What was that for?”

Sam looked up into his brother’s big, caring eyes. His protecter. Now, and forever. “Future me would have wanted you to have that.”

[lambmotifz]

time travel au. endverse dean/early season sam

for @sunbleachedf4wn ♡

[acecroft]

QUANTUM LEAP 3.14

[miraidashinomia]

I think spn fic writers are sleeping on writing time travel fics to the 40s-50s when American Men of Letters were still alive, and exploring Sam and Dean's relationship with Henry, and even meeting Henry's father, and MOL being shocked by the future and by the boys' behavior like Henry was when he traveled to the future, and Sam and Dean hating MOL because of their strict hierarchy and like restricted access to the knowledge depending on your rank, which will INFURIATE Sam... So many unexplored possibilities... Someone write a fic I'm beggin'

[nexilu]

I love time travel fanfics so much, like when one of the boys goes in their past body. I could totally see Dean waking up in his past body. He is completely confuse at first but when he realise what is happening, he takes a look at Sam and see a short boy with messy brown hair and innocent eyes free from any pain, he hasn’t saw them like that for years…

Dean gets SO nostalgic for the innocent, curious, moody kid his little brother used to be, he would want to protect him at all cost becoming even more overprotective than his past self and past!Sam would be like: wtf is wrong with you ???

[shallowseeker]

Time travel fic, but instead of the tension being that past-Dean hates future-Dean or vice versa, they get on like beans on toast, and it's Sam that can't stand himself. Or past-Cas keeps losing patience with future-Cas (and vice versa).

[deancaspinefest]

Something Happening Somewhen

Author: allthismusic | Artist: eggchef

Posting on Wednesday March 27

Dean is 24 years old, and a quiet night at a California dive bar turns into a near death experience turns into a trip through time thanks to the stranger he meets in the bar. When he lands in the bunker twenty years into his future, he finds out who the stranger is — and what his relationship is to Dean’s own older self. Dean’s not sure what he thinks about this at first, but when Cas takes him back to his own time (accompanied by the older Dean, who is determined to make sure that nothing they do in the past screws up their lives in the future), he gets to know the angel, and he gets a glimpse at a future he never would’ve dreamed that he might be able to have.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

In the cool evening air, Dean looks around. He’d left the Impala back parked at the dingy motel where he’d rented a room, but he’s not quite ready to call it a night. He opens his remaining beer and looks down the street to see if there’s another bar nearby that might be worth checking out, but before he can make a decision he hears the door to the bar he has just left open behind him. And he knows, he just /knows/, that it isn’t some other random patron headed home.

“What the hell is this, huh?” Dean asks, “Something about ‘not interested’ you’re not getting?”

And then the guy says his name.

“Dean,” the man begins, and Dean gets it.

“Oh, lemme guess, my dad tell you to check up on me?” Dean asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just begins to walk, knowing the man will follow. He’s a hunter, obviously. Explains the build, and the suit that is only meant to pass muster at a brief glance, like the fake police badge or FBI creds the guy probably carries. Dean should’ve clocked him from the start.

And for some reason John had thought that Dean needed checking up on. That he couldn’t be trusted to go it alone, nevermind the fact that he had finished the hunt his dad had sent him on two whole days ago and had yet to receive any new case coordinates from John.

To Dean’s surprise, he hears a laugh behind him. He stops, and now he does turn to face the guy again.

“No,” the man says. “I’ve lost count of how often I’ve been told I’m bad at following orders, but even if that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t follow your father’s.”

“Oh yeah? Then how do you know my name?” Dean demands.

“You left your wallet on the bar,” the man replies, holding it up. It’s definitely Dean’s: worn black leather, secondhand from his dad, containing a meager number of bills and at least three fake IDs tucked behind a real one— well, real first name, although it gives his surname as Campbell, just in case.

“Oh,” Dean says, wondering for the second time that night if he has misjudged this guy’s intentions. Maybe he’s just a normal businessman trying to do a good deed for the day and return a lost wallet, despite the wallet’s owner being an absolute weird freak toward him. “Thanks.”

The man offers the wallet out to him, almost gently, like he’s proffering a bit of food to a scared, stray dog, and Dean steps forward to take it. “It’s your birthday,” he says, and before Dean can ask, the man explains, “I saw it on your ID. On one of them, anyway.” Dean nods. “Happy birthday,” the guy says. “I should’ve bought you a beer.”

(continue reading on Ao3 on Wednesday March 27)

[sunbleachedf4wn]

endverse wincest is the hottest shit ever. a sam from the past who thinks his brother doesn't love him anymore and a dean from the future who lost his sammy. 10+ years age gap. their mutual pining/yearning is next level. endverse dean is even more possessive if that even possible. he kidnaps sam and locks him in a room like rapunzel. he literally wouldn't even let him go to the bathroom alone. they fuck nasty with a hint of sweet in it because they missed each other so much. endverse dean rails the living shit out of sam but holds his hand while he does it.

this dean would go feral to keep sam with him forever.

[zer0expektation]

" “Where are we?” Cas asks, brows furrowing further, “When are we?”

Dean continues contorting his young and smooth face, “Wait, you don’t think we were actually sent back in time, do you?” Cas makes a good impression of Sam’s bitchface through the mirror, “Hey, maybe we were just magically put into our hotter younger selves.”

“Dean.”

Dean pulls himself away from the mirror and sighs, “Okay, if we are in the past then let's damn hope we’re in no-time important.” "

--

Cas and Dean get sent back in time to the day Dean took Sam out of Stanford by a Rit Ziem (Angel). Dean is determined to make everything right.

Chapter 1: I don't remember that being there. At least, not yet.

[angelsdean]

good spn that lives in my mind dean kills john pre-series and he's faking the whole search to keep sam around but at the same time he's being haunted by john's ghost, seeing him in the backseat of the impala and on hunts and he's losing it but he can't let go. he knows exactly what the tethered object is, but he can't. let. go. and we see him wrestle with this alone for the whole season. and they go back to lawrence and they release mary's ghost. but john's still there, lingering. weighing on dean. and dean's filled with a mixture of guilt and righteousness. that's his dad. but he had to kill him. but part of him is still a little kid. and he can't let go, he can't let go. he thinks maybe, john's choosing to stick around. stick with them, for once. so how can he get rid of him? and so he's wrestling with it, alone. he's the only one who can see john, and slowly dean unpacks his feelings and his anger and his trauma and eventually he accepts that he can't live like this, still under the looming presence of his father. so then we finally see him take off the too-big leather jacket he's been wearing all season and throw it into the fire (symbolism !) and he gives it a good ol' salt 'n burn and john's ghost goes up in flames in a parallel / call back to the pilot. poetic cinema

[aspecdestiel]

destielpride day 11: truth

[ananke-xiii]

(this post doesn't really have a point, just fyi lol)

i've never been a science fiction fan until recently so i'll probably say some stuff and people will be "she's so ignorant" and perhaps they'll be right but i've gotta say it:

time travels in fiction are both super-interesting and extremely boring in the sense that ultimately they all seem to agree on the principle that the past cannot be changed while the future can be re-written and i'm like: meh. what if it's the future that cannot be changed while the past can be? or, better, what if it's the future that controls the narrative of the past? and what about time travellers? all these characters travelling through time and that doesn't change them. like, they're not exactly affected by it. they're still the same.

i remember once i was in middle school and my class went to a conference about i don't remember what and one person at the conference told us a story about an astronaut coming back home from space and the wife was terrified because it was him but it wasn't him at the same time. he was transformed.

it was an amazing horror story. i don't know if it's from a book or a real fact or what but this little story has stuck with me ever since.

so for instance the spn episode "as time goes by" is kinda cool because it takes a different view on the grandfather paradox since it's the grandafather travelling through time to the future rather than his nephews to the past.

however, novikov self-consistency principle is still respected precisely because the grandfather cannot go back in time and change it, aka grandpa must die.

now, if you consider that ultimately spn takes the god is author route you kinda have to make the assumption that it's not the past that matters but the future. as in: god has a planned future that he can never really write and this is what influences the narrative (the past). the story keeps changing and modifying itself because it doesn't want that telos, that future and in this light apocalypse would never happen in spn because the narrative rejects what is supposed to be written but it's never written because they keep changing the script.

this means that henry winchester going back in time would not change the narrative since the telos is already in god's mind and chuck would bend multiple rules and change worlds just to see his future really happening.

so dean and sam preventing henry from going back to john really means that they are the ones who have condemned their father to be fatherless with no real reason because they would be born no matter what (as per god's planned story that he couldn't really write but that he kept editing).

also, all stories seem to tend to a telos, to that ending that's so difficult to write so if you want to feel edgy you use a cycle-structure and you go back to square one but is this fair? (i ask myself while writing something having the cycle-structure in mind, btw i keep writing this cause i don't know the english word for it but i mean a story that has the shape of a cycle lol). this seems to convey the following message: we can't change the past AND we can't write the future we want THEREFORE we will just repeat the past but we will use different ingredients. Or, we will write an unsatisfying ending where everybody is unrealistically happy or conveniently dead.

it seems to me that the past can't be changed because we think it can can't be changed and so the stories are always the same and we keep re-telling them because we're not getting what they want to tell us. i think they're telling us that we can change them, they are actually there to be changed. like, the past wants to be changed.

the grandpa wants to go back in time and be with his son, let him go!!!

(woah. this is a convoluted post. if you're still here i think we can be friends)

[samanddean76]

A Fistful Of Sammy's

An ancient grimoire has been searching for the man that is destined to wield it for the good of all.  With the power that was imbued upon it, Lux gained sentience and hid herself away, appearing as nothing more than a smoothly polished rock.  Now she waits.  The problem?  The Stanford-Era Sam Winchester that the grimoire meets is not the only Sam searching for it.  And thanks to a little time travel the list of those seeking her is growing longer by the minute.  Once Soulless Sam and Demon Dean are added into the mix?  Things start to go sideways.  But then a couple of Hollywood actors trapped in Canada, who happen to look just like them and know everything about them, turn out to be crucial to Sam and Dean being able to save the day. 

Will an Apocalypse World Bobby (no, not that one) and a battle ravaged Castiel help or hinder?  Will the all-too helpful Gabriel guide Sam to the truth, or lead him astray?  And will Sam ever get the happy ending he so desperately deserves? 

Come along on a wild ride, with Metallica as the soundtrack, and an ending that hinges on one impossible choice.

Fandoms: Supernatural and Supernatural RPF

Rated: Explicit | Word Count: 33.6K (and climbing)

This is what happens when you have four Sam's, four Dean's, two Castiel's, two Jared and Jensen's, one Gabriel, one John, and one Jack in the same story.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Demon Dean/Soulless Sam, Sam Winchester/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Sam Winchester

Major Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Additional Tags: AU, Time Travel, Will Reference Events From All Seasons Plus Prior To Series, Jared & Jensen from Season 6 - The French Mistake, Stanford Era Sam, Dean, & John, Soulless Sam, Demon Dean, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Dubious Consent, Non-Graphic Violence, Unorthodox Demon Healing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sam & Dean Being The Best Of Brothers, Castiel Gets A Power Up, Sam Gets A Power Up, An OC For The Ages, Literally

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight on AO3

Hey! How about we turn it into The Samstraveganza Verse? Mmmm, okay, I'm sold.

Tell Me Something I Don't Know - Soulless Sam/Demon Dean one-shot on AO3

Excerpt from Chapter Six under the break....

Sam could see himself through Dean’s eyes.  From the moment he was the baby lying in the maternity ward.  Later when he played in his crib in the nursery of his only real home.  How scared Dean felt as he raced out the front door with his little Sammy held tight.  Through more dingy motel rooms and abandoned houses than either of them ever wanted to think about.  On the first day of middle school, when Sam had been so scared, Dean had looked down at him with pride, assuring his kid brother that he was going to be better than any of his classmates.  Helping Sam to get ready for his first dance, pinning on the boutonniere that he had stolen from the flower shop.  Wishing how it would have been him to escort his Sammy. 

“I would have danced with you, at least once.  Spun my big brother around the floor.”  The words echoed across his mind, and when Dean tried to deepen the kiss that they were sharing, Sam knew that he’d heard it, and shared the sentiment.  He thrust harder into the willing flesh before him, finding untold joy as each thrust was matched by Dean pushing back with his own hips.  Trying to help Sam sink in even deeper.