#what do you think? is she missing? or back in the future??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ssweeterthanfiction · 3 days ago

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Ooo Love! Ooo Lover Boy!

boyfriend!johnny storm x fem civilian!reader content warnings: none! all fluff! summary: a cute date day with Johnny! wc: 3.1k

masterlist.

The rooftop is loud. Not with music or fireworks, but with press questions and too many bodies pressed together in expensive suits and sequined dresses. The Future Foundation is hosting another one of its “donor appreciation” nights, which really just means Reed stands by a molecular model all night while Johnny tries to escape three women in red dresses and someone’s very pushy aunt.

You’re off to the side, perched at a high table, nursing a ginger ale and watching the whole thing unfold like it’s a soap opera you accidentally got invested in.

Johnny, for his part, is thriving.

He’s grinning wide under the warm rooftop lights, hair perfectly tousled by the wind, laughing like he doesn’t have a single real problem in the world. He lets a kid borrow his sunglasses for a selfie. He lets someone else get a photo of him doing finger guns. He blows a literal heart-shaped flame into the air when someone shouts, “Johnny, show us something hot!”

Sue looks like she’s three seconds from tossing him off the roof.

You can’t help it, you laugh into your drink.

He catches it. Mid-flirt, mid-flame, Johnny’s eyes flick toward you like it’s instinct. His grin changes. Just a little. Softer around the edges. A secret note played under the show tune.

You pretend not to notice, even though your heart skips a beat like it always does when he looks at you like that.

Later, after the crowd starts to thin and the media finally backs off, Johnny finds you standing near the elevator, scrolling through your phone like you weren’t just waiting for him to come find you.

“Hey, stranger,” he murmurs, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist like it’s second nature. “Missed you.”

“You were ten feet away,” you deadpan, but you lean back into his chest anyway.

“Yeah,” he says, nose brushing the curve of your jaw, “but that was Human Torch distance. This is boyfriend distance.”

You snort. “Are those different units of measurement?”

“Obviously. Human Torch distance is...PR stunts, bright lights, saying hi to that one lady with the big hair because she gave us half our funding this year.”

“And boyfriend distance?”

“Boyfriend distance is here. With you. Finally.”

He rocks you gently side to side, his warmth soaking through your dress, the press of him solid and grounding.

“You looked really pretty tonight, by the way,” he says, quieter now. “Tried not to be obvious about staring. Think I failed.”

You feel the blush creep up your neck before you can stop it. He rests his chin on your shoulder, humming contentedly like he could stay like this forever.

“You were handsome too,” you murmur, smiling. “You always are.”

He grins against your skin. “I know.”

You elbow him gently in the ribs, but don’t pull away.

Because this is the part the world doesn’t see.

Not the fire. Not the flash. Not the headlines.

Just warmth. Just you and Johnny.

By the time you’re back at your apartment, your shoes are off, your hair’s down, and Johnny is already halfway through making popcorn in your kitchen and pretending he isn’t waiting for you to sit on the couch first so he can immediately flop next to you.

You catch him watching you as you toss your earrings into a dish on the counter.

“What?” you ask, biting back a smile.

He shrugs, leans against the stove, eyes all heavy-lidded and sweet. Too sweet.

“Nothing. Just...you’re so pretty.”

You roll your eyes. “You think I’m pretty when I’ve got mascara smudged under my eyes?”

He crosses the kitchen in three steps, sets the popcorn bowl down, and cups your jaw like he’s holding something sacred.

“I think you’re pretty always,” he murmurs. “But especially when you’re too tired to pretend I’m not your favorite person.”

You swat at him playfully, but your fingers curl around his wrist and keep him close.

You end up curled together on the couch, legs tangled under a too-thin blanket, his chest a living heater against your back. He’s the kind of warm that makes you melt without realizing it. His fingers draw slow, lazy shapes against your arm as the movie plays low in the background—some rom-com you’ve both seen ten times but always return to.

You feel him press a kiss to the back of your shoulder, then hum quietly against your skin.

“Wanna do something tomorrow?”

“Mmm,” you reply sleepily. “What kind of something?”

“Like...date day something. No work. No missions. No having to be 'Human Torch'."

You smile. “You’re due for some romance, huh?”

“I’m due for you in a sundress holding a little iced coffee and pretending not to laugh at my sunglasses tan.”

You twist slightly to look up at him. His face is lit soft by the TV glow, eyes half-lidded, hair flopped messily across his forehead. You reach up and push it back.

“So what do you wanna do?” you ask. “Ice cream? Hide in a used bookstore until someone kicks us out?”

“Yes,” he says. “All of it.”

“You want the full rom-com date montage, huh?”

“Absolutely. I want to carry your bag. I want to kiss you in front of a fountain. I want to sit on a bench and dramatically feed you a bite of my hot dog.”

You snort. “You’re such a dork.”

He grins. “I’m your dork.”

You reach under the blanket and lace your fingers through his, already picturing tomorrow, the soft buzz of summer in the city, the stupid matching sunglasses he’ll insist on, the way he’ll hold your hand like it’s his job.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Date day. Just us.”

“Just us,” he echoes, voice like a promise.

You fall asleep with your head on his chest and his hand curled around yours, warm, steady, and already dreaming of you.

You wake up to warmth.

Not the filtered sunlight slipping in through the curtains. Not the weight of the blanket half-pushed to the foot of the bed. Him. Johnny. Heat radiating from where his arm is slung across your waist, skin hot and golden even under the sheets. His breath fans across the back of your neck, steady and soft. He’s all tangled up in you, legs knotted with yours, hand tucked beneath your shirt like it belongs there.

It does.

He makes a quiet sound when you shift, half-asleep, half-clingy, and pulls you closer like a furnace with feelings.

“Mmm. Five more minutes,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“It’s already ten.”

“Okay, five more hours.”

You laugh under your breath, which only makes him nuzzle closer, lips brushing your bare skin.

“We have date plans, remember?”

“Mm-hmm. I remember. I’m romancing you,” he says, voice slurred with sleep. “I’m being amazing.”

“You’re currently drooling on me.”

“Love drool. It’s affectionate.”

Eventually, he stretches out like a sun-drunk cat and flops onto his back with a dramatic sigh.

“Okay. Let’s get you ready. You need to look incredible today.”

“Me?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who’ll be recognized.”

“Exactly. And I want them to see you and immediately understand why I’m completely obsessed.”

You shake your head, amused, but let him follow you into your closet anyway.

Johnny takes the job of picking your outfit very seriously. He sits on the edge of your bed like a fashion judge, watching each piece you pull from a hanger like it holds national importance.

“Too serious,” he says at one dress. “Too corporate.” “Too hot. Not hot enough. Wear that one- wait, no, I won’t survive it.”

You finally settle on something flowy and soft, one of his favorites.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he mutters, watching you twirl in the mirror.

“Already did,” you reply, smug.

He grins, grabs your hand, and kisses your knuckles like he’s your knight instead of your menace of a boyfriend.

You end up at this little breakfast place downtown, handwritten chalkboard sign and flower boxes out front. It’s bustling, cluttered, loud in the best way. Johnny’s a regular, apparently. The guy at the counter daps him up like they’ve been best friends since childhood.

“The usual?” the guy asks, eyeing you with interest. Johnny slings an arm around your shoulder like it’s reflex. “Two of ‘em. She’s my favorite person. Extra strawberries.”

He insists on paying. Tips too much. Picks a booth by the window and slides in beside you, not across from you, because "if I sit over there, I can’t touch you."

The food comes fast—pancakes, eggs, coffee, fresh fruit. He takes a bite of your toast and pretends he didn’t.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” he says, halfway through a pancake. “No aliens. No science emergencies. Just you and me and syrup. That’s the dream.”

You rest your chin on your hand and smile at him, messy-haired, glowing, halfway through over-sweet coffee, absolutely beaming at you like you invented joy.

“This is gonna sound cheesy,” he adds, lowering his voice just a little, “but I don’t care if we do anything fancy today. You could drag me through a dollar store and I’d still call it the best date of my life.”

You kick him under the table. He grins wider.

“Ow. Romantic violence. Nice.”

After breakfast, he offers his hand dramatically and walks you out all dramatic. Sunglasses on. Other hand in his pocket. Entirely too proud to be seen holding your hand.

“Next stop,” he announces. “Books. Because you like books. And I like watching you pretend not to fall in love with me all over again while I read dumb poetry out loud.”

“That’s not what happens.” “It absolutely is. You’re obsessed with me.”

You don’t deny it.

Because it’s true.

The bookstore smells like old paper and dust and sunlight.

You find it tucked between a flower shop and a record store, the kind of place with crooked shelves and handwritten recommendation cards. Wind chimes jingle as the door swings open. Johnny ducks slightly as you step inside, like he’s trying to contain his energy, like he doesn’t want to break the spell.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just exhales a soft “whoa,” eyes tracing the mismatched lamps and towers of books and the sleepy cat curled on the counter like it owns the place.

“This is so you,” he says finally, already smiling.

You nudge his shoulder with yours. “You said that about the diner.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it like...” He gestures vaguely. “You in a bookstore? This is just where you belong.”

He lets you lead the way, trailing a few steps behind with his hands in his jacket pockets, touching nothing, but watching everything. You, mostly. You, skimming the spines, pulling down titles and flipping through pages. You, biting your lip when you find something good. You, holding a book to your chest like it might float away.

He pulls a slim poetry chapbook off a shelf and follows you into a quiet corner near the windows.

“Can I read you one?” he asks, already opening it.

“Johnny…” you say, suspicious. “I can be cultured,” he insists. Then, clearing his throat dramatically, “Love is a fire.” He pauses. “Ooh. This one’s got my name on it already.”

You groan, but let him keep reading.

His voice drops when it’s not a joke anymore. Slows down. Words softer, careful. You watch him in profile, sunlight catching in his lashes, the faintest pink in his cheeks. He finishes the poem and looks up, sheepish.

“That was kinda good, right?”

“Yeah,” you say. “You should read to me more.”

He swells with pride, the way he always does when you compliment something real about him.

He buys the book. Signs the inside cover. "To the prettiest girl I’ve ever read poetry to—JS."

You lose him for a few minutes between aisles.

You’re deep in the nonfiction section, thumbing through a book on obscure cosmic history you’re pretty sure Reed wrote under a pen name, when Johnny reappears with a small stack in his arms and a crooked grin on his face.

“Okay. I took this very seriously,” he says, setting them down on the bench beside you. “Here is my curated selection for the love of my life.”

He presents the first one with a flourish: a graphic novel about time travelers who fall in love through post-it notes.

“Romantic and nerdy. I’m killing this already.”

The next, a battered, clearly well-loved paperback with stars and planets on the cover. You open it—and tucked inside is a faded, pressed flower.

You glance up at him. “Did you—?”

“Nah, found it like that,” he says, quieter now. “Felt like it was waiting for someone. Kinda like you and me.”

Your breath catches a little.

“That was gross, right?” he adds quickly. “Like...disgustingly sweet?”

“No,” you say. “It was perfect.”

He gives you a look like he wants to kiss you right there between fiction and sci-fi, but instead he just nudges your knee with his and leans back.

“Also I picked a cookbook because you said you wanted to try making dumplings from scratch.”

"Johnny.”

“And a mystery novel because I know you like to ry to solve what happens before it's revealed.”

You’re quiet for a moment, holding the stack to your chest.

“You really listen to me, huh?”

“Of course I do,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “You’re my favorite voice.”

You feel your heart do another flip as he kisses your cheek.

The two of you end up in the park next, shoes off, blanket spread across the grass, half a baguette in a paper bag between you because Johnny insisted on stopping by a bakery before the park.

The sun is high, warm but breezy. Johnny lies flat on his back, one hand behind his head, the other idly playing with the hem of your skirt where it pools at your knees.

“Look,” he says, pointing lazily at the sky. “That cloud looks like the letter ‘J.’ For ‘Johnny.’ The sky loves me.”

“You’re the most humble person I’ve ever met,” you say, deadpan.

“You know it.”

A quiet falls between you for a while. Comfortable. Unrushed. His fingers eventually find yours in the grass and stay there, thumb brushing gentle circles against your skin.

“I love being with you like this,” he murmurs. “Not just in, like…the big ways. But the small ones. The regular ones. I’d do this every day for the rest of my life if you let me.”

You don’t say anything. You just squeeze his hand.

Later, when the sun starts to drift lower in the sky, you find yourselves near the ice cream truck Johnny insisted you walk past because “I swear this guy’s got the best strawberry swirl in the city.”

He orders for both of you, then adds a third cone at the last second for a kid in line who drops their cone.

“What a hero,” you say.

“My girlfriend thinks I’m cool. That’s all I need.”

You sit on the curb while you eat, your knees knocking together, your cone starting to drip. Johnny leans over and steals a bite without asking, then grins like he just won something.

“Hey!”

“What? I was saving your dress from getting icecream on it!”

You wipe a smudge of ice cream off his chin with your thumb. He catches your wrist and kisses the inside of it, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“You taste like sugar,” he murmurs, voice suddenly low. “No wonder I’m addicted.”

The city starts to shift as the sky turns gold.

Shadows stretch longer. Streetlights flicker to life one by one. Somewhere nearby, a jazz band warms up, their chords floating between buildings like smoke. And you’re still hand in hand with Johnny, wandering with no destination, letting the day stretch out for as long as it’ll give you.

He walks with his sunglasses on top of his head now, sweater sleeves pushed up, a paper bag in one hand filled with books and dumb little trinkets he insisted on getting “because they reminded me of you.” He keeps brushing his knuckles against yours as you walk, even though you’re already holding hands.

“Are you trying to hold my hand hand and my knuckle hand?” you ask, amused.

“I’m trying to hold every version of you,” he says, only half-joking.

Eventually, you stumble into a quiet little plaza tucked between two apartment buildings. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t show up on maps, just a stone path, a few benches, some ivy, and a fountain in the center. You can hear water trickling gently, the hum of traffic a distant hum instead of a roar.

Johnny stops walking.

“Wait,” he says, tugging gently on your hand. “This is it.”

“This is what?”

“The fountain moment. You remember. The romcom-certified romantic one.”

“Oh, right,” you say, playing along. “The one where you kiss me so perfectly I forget my own name.”

“Exactly. Very important. Very canon.”

He steps closer. Both of you smiling, soft around the edges, glowing in the amber light.

“You ready?” he murmurs.

You nod, and he leans in, not rushed, not showy, just…gentle. His forehead rests against yours for a second, breath mixing with yours. His hands cradle your waist like he’s holding something sacred.

“You’re my favorite thing I’ve ever found,” he says.

And then he kisses you.

It’s slow and steady and unselfconscious. The kind of kiss that doesn't need witnesses. The kind you feel hours later, like sunlight on your skin. The water behind you bubbles softly. Somewhere, a breeze picks up and flutters the edge of your jacket.

You pull back first, but only because you’re smiling too hard.

“That was…” you start, breathless.

“Legendary,” he finishes. “Worthy of a rom-com montage.”

“It really was.”

You find a bench nearby and sit with your legs over his lap, his arm around your shoulders, your head resting against the curve of his neck. It’s that hour of the day where everything softens, edges, voices, hearts.

“Can I say something dumb?” he asks after a while.

“Always.”

“I know we’ve only been dating for a few months...” he says, gesturing vaguely with one hand, “but I think I’d be good at loving you for a long time.”

You glance up at him. His eyes are on the sky. He doesn’t say it like he’s trying to charm you—he says it like a quiet truth he’s been carrying all day.

“Like, I know it’s cheesy,” he continues, “but when I think about the future, it’s just…you. Not the superhero stuff. Not the press. Just mornings and bookstores and dumb fountain kisses. That’s what I want.”

You rest your hand on his chest, right over his heart. It’s beating fast. Yours is too.

“That’s not dumb,” you say softly. “That’s perfect.”

He turns his head toward you, eyes wide and warm and a little bit vulnerable.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He kisses your forehead like a promise.

“Good. Because I think I’m already all in.”

#isa’s thoughts #johnny storm fluff #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm #human torch x reader #human torch #fantastic four x reader #fantastic four #joseph quinn

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thebitchandjerkwinchesters · 4 hours ago

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Okay this feels different but imma leave my thoughts and spiralling feelings here till ao3 loves me again

"If you’re confused, just come find the me that’s with you now, and he’ll show you."

He is so adorable i missed them. They'll be so back

"Son of a bitch, I hope there’s a me with you. Lucky asshole. He loves you too, so you know. He’s me, and he’s not gonna say it out loud very well, but he loves you. I love you. Always love you. All the way down."

DO IT SAY IT, i say as if they can hear me

"I guess it doesn’t hurt for future me. If he gave these to you, that means he got you back. Douchebag. Probably gets to kiss you too. I’ve kissed you. Six times. I’ll do it more, if you let me. I’d do whatever you let me do. Nothing means more than you, baby, you gotta know that. If future me is being an asshole and hasn’t told you that, I’m telling you now. Everything he does is for you. That’s how much he fucking loves you."

Not him trying to talk to himself while writing a letter to Princess, also don't worry dean future you would also be just whipped as current/past you is. Kiss count mentioned!!!

"Fuck, there probably isn’t a thing you could do that he wouldn’t let you get away with."

Hmm mixed feelings.. I agree but also.. we know what princess and cas are gonna do, dean(future or not) doesn't. Am I too fixated on it?

"He’s been a goner for years. Punch him in the balls for me, if he hasn’t told you. Then you can show me this, so I know I told you to do that. But don’t do it too hard. He still wants a future with you, and probably values his balls more than I do."

Whiplash, he thinks a lot. He's baby. And before she comes anywhere near his balls she'd become a flustered mess

"I’ve been having these new dreams, about you. Have I mentioned that I dream about you? I do. They stopped for a while, but they’re back now. Different from before, but back. In one of them, we were just one of those normal couples. We worked and had a house, visited your dad on weekends, had a dog and a cat."

THEA I SEE YOU. I SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING. is it one of the secret? One 🤍 if no two 🤍🤍 if yes. It's fine no one will know you're barely skirting the nda

Not him being like we'll get a cat but it's not sleeping in OUR bed. I'm putting my foot down and then she does the flutter thing and he's gone dumb

"Dean had let the demons rip into him. There wasn’t any reason not to. The plan had failed anyway."

Honey that shadows the sh thing. I don't like this.

"Maybe She was out. Maybe whatever got Sam grabbed Her too, but Cas couldn’t find her because of the Bride thing"

go on dean keep thinking you are a genius you just need a clear head free of pain and it won't get better until she's back but oh my god you'll get her only with a clear head.

“Awesome.” He dropped his head back down. “See you next time you decide I’m injured enough to check in on.” Cas sighed. “You know I am busy, Dean, I do not enjoy not talking to you-“ “But you only do it when I’m bleeding out.” “You bleed out quite often, lately.” Cas muttered, and Dean rolled his eyes, pushing his words through his teeth.”

why is 2/3 couple in the throuple angsty WHY😭

"might bring a light back to Bobby’s eyes,"

how's Bobby I miss my father

“You actually siding with freakin’ Crowley here?” Dean glared at Cas under his eyelids. “He sent a bunch of demon goons to kick the shit out of me-“

can I be honest? Is it a safe zone? I don't like it, i don't like cas right now. I don't want this can I return this aspect of the update? WHY IS CAS LETTING CROWLEY SIC DEMONS ON DEAN. WHY DONT THEY COMMUNICATE. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“I miss her as well,” Cas muttered, scanning over Dean’s face carefully. “Things are… Far worse. When she is not here. There is a sense, wherever I go, that something is missing. It is…” Cas trailed off, frowning at the air. “As if my wings have been cut off, though they are very much still there.” “Human’s call that grief,” Dean said under his breath, dropping his gaze to his own knees. “That’s what’s you’re feelin’, Cas. But she’s not dead-“ “She is not with us.” Cas murmured. “And if my wings feel as if they are missing, I can only imagine what you are experiencing.”

okay i take back what I said. I am never doubting you again. Yeah this, we like. Bonding even though sad as shit, but they're talking.

“Crowley.” Not Her. “He will not touch you like that again, and I will work to try and make him…” Cas sighed. “Calm down. But I cannot handle Crowley, Raphael, and you making stupid, unmeasured choices.”

i apologise to cas too. I feel like a feral cat realising the human was just trying to feed it and it didn't need to attack them

“If you die,” Cas muttered Her name. “She will break out of the cage, just to kill me. And,” he shot Dean a glare. “That is not a suggestion. You will have to be careful, Dean-“

he's not wrong.. but she won't kill cas, she'll kill the whole world with her grief? Cuz she's more powerful by the second.

"Or She’d be pissed at him, for not helping Cas. She’d help Cas. Shit, if She was here, Cas might have already won the war in Heaven."

You don't say... The reveal is going to gut us all

“Something about hunting?” Jody cut him off, Her voice shockingly firm. “Or something about feelings and good choices. Cause if it’s the latter, I don’t think it’s a good for you and Bobby to be bouncing any ideas off of each other.”

MOM HIIIIIII AND TRUE THEY'RE IDJITS RIGHT NOW EVEN BOBBY

“And expecting a different result, Dean. That’s important. All you do is drink and torture yourself while trying to get her out, you’ll go insane. And you think you’re of better use to her insane, or with a brain that’s actually working?”

I love the women of supernatural. Eric kripe you suck you threw the wayward sisters idea.

"This was just soft. It made Dean feel sort of small, but not like he could be stepped on, or was weak. Like the sky was falling, but there was still going to be something to cover him, and keep him safe."

HE EXPERIENCED HAVING A GENTLE PARENT FOT THE FIRST TIME 😭

"She wrapped Her arms around his neck, as he set Her down, and Dean crashed his lips into Her’s. She tasted like Her apples, and a little bit of cherry and soda. When he reached down for Her thigh, She let him grab it and hook it around his waist. Moaned into Dean’s mouth like a song, when he angled his mouth over Her’s to deepen the kiss."

DREAM SEX LETS GO. You know what I'll take it, it's phantom kissing but they kissed

"He pulled back to frown at Her. “You don’t like Dr. Sexy?” "She shrugged. “I like you.”

DR SEXY MENTIONED ITS CANON THEY WATCH IT TOGETHER. more like dean gets bi panic and she watches him have that

"That wasn’t helping his dream boner."

Yeah see? It's sorta real. Like a more elaborate hologram but like you can almost touch it? Do I make sense? I'm not talking about Dean's.. i mean their dreams that they share

"It was always so goddamn bright into morning, it was like the sky was angling the freakin’ sun right into his eyes."

Chuck your jealousy is showing seriously? Pathetic

THE BANTER BETWEEN SAM AND DEAN> honestly soulblocked sam is finally paying back for all the times he had to go through princedean's pining. Speak your truth King

I'll try to guess your favourite dialogues for dean and princess but my favourite? All of Sam's lines BANGERS. I LOVE IT.

“Can I get a demon, please?” is it this for dean? It's one of the guesses?

"Dean used the drive to practice his ignoring skills. When he took a sharp turn and Sam let out a bitch sigh, Dean ignored it. When he turned up the volume and Sam made a sour face, Dean made it a point to keep his gaze fixed out the window shield. It didn’t how many times Sam grumbled about wrong turns and Dean being dramatic, he wasn’t going to react."

Not the bitch sigh. I love the entirety of how it's written. Thankyou🤍

"And maybe Dean was losing his goddamn mind, but he could swear he was smelling it."

ITS THEM FINIDING HER AND JO PHENOMENON 2.0

"When he walked out of the bathroom, there was an apple on the sink."

TREASURE HUNT LETS GO

"Sammy’s potion tasted like ass. He asked me to drink it, and I couldn’t say no. He would’ve cried, Princess, and you’ve never seen Sammy about to cry. It’s like a whining puppy. So I drank his potion, and then I started throwing up for like a week."

Okay fair there's nothing i wouldn't do for baby sam either

"Dad was pretty pissed, thought I ordered them food, and it could have gotten Sammy poisoned too. Turned out the kid just put a bug in the potion. He liked bugs. Bobby says you liked bugs, too."

John Winchester you deserve herpes you probably had it. I hate him so much. He doesn't care about raising sam and doesn't even see dean as a human ITS FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE.

"What I’m trying to tell you is that I think I love you every time. I think if you were an actual Princess, I’d keep loving you from afar, like if you were Sammy’s bug friend and I was just his stupid older brother. And if you looked at me one day and asked me to do something for you, I’d make the moon move backwards. If you loved me back (because I love you. Just in case you frogot forgot) I’d figure out a way for us to be together. If you wanted me."

AYEEEEEEEEE WE TALKED ABOUT THIS. I LOVE YOU. SAMMY AND PRINCESS'S BUGS/STONES BUSINESS AND Bestfriend's brother au

And I love the PrincessXKnight au. It's holy to me

“It looked like a garden vomited on my pillow, Sam.” this is another guess for your favourite Dean line. At this point I'm suspecting? Let me know what's actually your favourite?

“Someone gave you a free apple.” Sam gave him a flat look. “And you got blackout drunk, picked flowers for your girlfriend, then started crying when you realized she was stuck in hell. That’s not weird shit, Dean, that’s you needing a therapist.”

sam isn't missing on this chapter. BANGER.

“Purple cow?” Dean stared at her. Maybe it was a code. Christ, he was too tired for code. “Blue chicken.”

That was so random I wanna join the game. PINK GOAT. I love him so much

“Ah- Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweetheart.” She rose up, moving back into her tiny kitchen. “Y’all want some mac and cheese?”

wait what the fuck? Is she invisible? It's all HER favourite stuff

"He passed a stoop, and there was a knife taped to the door. And a knife on the sink, when he went to the bathroom."

YEP SHE'S NEAR, if Dean's not the sole thing to summon her knives will, so relatable

"I guess everything was designed for you. That’s the Bride of God thing. You’re the universe, and I’m just some asshole you watch TV with." Also nominated for your favourite Dean line

"Right where Sam’s massive fucking head had been blocking, was a huge Indiana Jones poster."

Who is doing that, is this a trap for her or is she just spiralling out of control using her silver?

“If you’re planning on do somethin’ to me.” He muttered, and the Alpha frowned at him. “Can it happen now, before I bleed all over your fancy freakin’ carpets?” I'm asking blinding at this point. If this is your favourite Dean line

"Jonas’ word died in a gurgle of blood, his throat slit clean open with a bubbling wound that spread, before his head fell clean from his shoulders."

WAY TO MAKR AN ENTRACE LETS GO BAD BITCH

"Lie. That was a lie. Dean didn’t know why, but that was a freaking lie, and he was too fucking tired to understand it."

no🥰 we're not doing this, please

"And it was boiling in the cavity of his chest. She ran again, when She swore she wouldn’t."

Yep. And I feel like the only way it would resolve for me if they fight if dean actually pushes her for once to answer and she would ofcourse it's already uncomfortable lying to him and then it'll be fine.

"Pressed Her lips against Dean’s, as his hand glided up Her back, and made a soft, blissful sound as he kissed Her with a little more than he’d ever had before. Then She kissed him back—wrapping Her legs carefully around his torso and crashing so deep into him he couldn’t really think past Her apple on his tongue and warmth in his arms—and it was like breathing."

Kiss counter add +1.. ITS SEVEN!!

"Her light had never been pure white enough for it to just stop shining. It was made with a little bit of darkness. Made of silver. "

Oh waitt ohhh this makes sense. The white got bigger but the darkness was still a part of her. The god of bride powers and Magdalene powers mixed is silver. YOU'RE A GENIUS

I SWEAR IF SHE RUNS AGAIN. I'LL BE RAGING AND CRYING ON DEAN'S BEHALF.

Also I think your favourite princess line is probably “You know.” She drawled, nudging his body with her foot. “I’ve wanted to be the girl.”

Or “Hi. Do you like my trick? I-“

I thinkkk.. anyways I loved this and I love you 🤍

And sorry for being late to the party

So yeah...

Chapter 31 - It All Comes Around

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Okay you guys know I hate saying something is my favorite in case you hate it, but this chapter has two of my favorite lines of dialogue so far. One for Dean, one for our girl. If you guess one, you can... idk do the bonus chapter thing again. Enjoy!

Chapter Title from The Unknown by Imagine Dragons

Word Count: 19.9k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Dean has a weird week. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action

Chapter 30 - Chapter 32

Read on A03!

Dec. 17th - 2010

Princess,

You’d be pissed at me right now. That was the kind of thing you’d be pissed at me about. Knew that going it. Kinda always know it, if i’m telling you the truth. I hate it when you cry or get mad, but sometimes there’s a middle where you’re just glaring at me, and it’s adorable. You don’t get that wrinkle in your brow, but your nose scrunches and you say Dean like

Guess I can’t do an impression of it on the paper. Imagine you can hear me saying Dean, but it’s in my voice, pretending to be you. If you’re confused, just come find the me that’s with you now, and he’ll show you.

Son of a bitch, I hope there’s a me with you. Lucky asshole. He loves you too, so you know. He’s me, and he’s not gonna say it out loud very well, but he loves you. I love you. Always love you. All the way down.

That’s why I did the stupid thing. I’m not gonna write it down, cause if I do, you’ll stop reading and go beat up future me. But he did it for the same reason I did. So don’t be too pissed at him. Me.

Forgive me. That’s why I’m trying to get out here. Please fucking forgive me, for everything. The stupid thing. Everything I did while you were gone. Letting you fall in the cage. I’m so fucking sorry, Princess, but you gotta forgive me. But you were gone, and it hurt. Still hurts, right now.

I guess it doesn’t hurt for future me. If he gave these to you, that means he got you back. Douchebag. Probably gets to kiss you too. I’ve kissed you. Six times. I’ll do it more, if you let me. I’d do whatever you let me do. Nothing means more than you, baby, you gotta know that. If future me is being an asshole and hasn’t told you that, I’m telling you now. Everything he does is for you. That’s how much he fucking loves you.

Fuck, there probably isn’t a thing you could do that he wouldn’t let you get away with. He’s been a goner for years. Punch him in the balls for me, if he hasn’t told you. Then you can show me this, so I know I told you to do that. But don’t do it too hard. He still wants a future with you, and probably values his balls more than I do.

He probably values a hell of a lot more than me, if he’s got you back.

And it’s not your fault, baby. I know you, I know you’re gonna read this and start thinking that you messed something up. Maybe go sit next to future me, so he can calm you down if you start freaking out. You don’t have to do anything to make me feel better, ever. If I’ve got you, I know everything is good. Just let him take care of you. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do.

It’s been you from the start, sweetheart. And I did something stupid, but you need to forgive me because it’s getting dark out here. I miss you, and I need you to tell me what the hell to do. How I’m supposed to get you back without doing something stupid. Whatever got Sammy out isn’t doing an encore, Cas still won’t pick up the damn phone, and Bobby’s a little better, but he ain’t good. None of us are good without you.

I’ve been having these new dreams, about you. Have I mentioned that I dream about you? I do. They stopped for a while, but they’re back now. Different from before, but back. In one of them, we were just one of those normal couples. We worked and had a house, visited your dad on weekends, had a dog and a cat.

I’ll let you get that cat, if you come home soon. The one Cas never got to give you. Shit, I’ll help him pick it out. We’ll get you a cute one, I’ll get those allergy meds you mentioned, and it can stay at Bobby’s. But it can’t sleep on the bed. I’m not fighting for your attention with a fucking cat, sweetheart.

Sam says I’m bargaining. But he’s also an asshole still, cause of the soul blocker thing. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about, just because he took one psych class at Stanford. And even if I am bargaining, nothing wrong with that. Whatever the hell gets you back, right?

You need to come back, baby. I can get a whole lot stupider.

Yours,

DAW

——————

Dean dropped his head against the table—squeezing his eyes shut as he gritted his teeth—and took a long, deep breath.

He finished the letter. That’s what was important.

There wasn’t even a single bloodstain on it, because he’d washed his freaking hands.

There was blood leaking through his shirt, though.

He should probably deal with that, before he lost all of it and had to deal with another lecture from Sam about this behavior not being useful, Dean.

Easy for Sam to say. He hadn’t lost anything. And anything that he should’ve lost, he didn’t give a shit about anymore. His soul. All their goddamn peace.

Her.

Sam still didn’t seem to give a shit that they’d lost Her.

And Dean was trying real damn hard not to be pissed about that. Sam didn’t know how things like emotions worked anymore. Just couldn’t grasp that the most important person in both of their lives—the woman who had believed in him through the whole demon blood thing, and kept them from fighting countless times—was stuck in hell. That they needed to get her out, because otherwise Dean was going to start doing some pretty fucking dumb things.

Dumber things.

He’d already done something pretty fuck dumb.

And it hadn’t even had the nerve to goddamn work.

Dean folded the letter into a neat square, and left it on the table as he pushed to his feet with a groan. This was going to suck. This was going to suck so goddamn much, but he couldn’t call Sam back from his hookup just to give him stitches. Sam would have questions like are you an idiot, Dean—yes—and how they hell did you get your stomach ripped open. It looks like you didn’t even fight back.

He hadn’t.

Dean had let the demons rip into him. There wasn’t any reason not to. The plan had failed anyway.

And this was why he needed Her. This was Her type of plan—the insane ones, that nearly gave Dean a heart attack whenever She looked at him with bright eyes and said I’ve got something—and Her ability to calculate the risks and danger to herself might be horrible, but she got results.

Dean had just got the shit beaten out of him, and nothing else. She wasn’t home. He wasn’t closer to getting Her home. He just had a goddamn pit in the cavity of his chest, splitting him open, and a gash in his side.

He made it to the bed. Sam’s bed. Bitch wasn’t using it anyway, he’d deal with the blood stains.

And there was a whole lot of blood. Maybe the shallow breathing was from the way he was bleeding out, or just how he was thinking about Hell. The rivers of blood, and all of it on his hands.

Her, drowning in that blood. Stuck in the place that had turned Dean into more of a monster than he’d already been. Or just somewhere worse, if the damage to Sam’s soul said anything.

Maybe She was out. Maybe whatever got Sam grabbed Her too, but Cas couldn’t find her because of the Bride thing, and now She was curled up and shivering and alone. Waiting for Dean to come save Her, while he ran around like a fucking asshole. Trying plans that didn’t work, touching women he didn’t love just to feel something, drinking and drinking until he was numb enough to breathe.

He wasn’t numb now.

Son of a bitch, between the way the pit was swallowing him whole and the sting of the rubbing alcohol on his wound, there wasn’t enough booze in the world to make him feel nothing.

He needed to lie down. Half for the stitches, half because if he didn’t, he was pretty damn sure he’d fall over and start sobbing like a pussy.

Dean clenched his jaw, lay flat on his back, and got to work. His hands weren’t steady, but he could patch himself up. Enough for it to look like a normal hunting accident, at least.

Enough that nobody would try and ask questions, and lecture him about self-destructive behaviors.

He tried to hum to himself, to calm down. Ramble On, then Hey Jude, the just fucking anything to fill the silence when he couldn’t carry either of the tunes. If he closed his eyes tight enough, he could pretend She was there with him. That these were Her hands, and the static sound of the heater was Her siren-like voice. Telling Dean it would be okay. That She was here, and everything was going to be okay.

He could almost believe it. When he really goddamn focused, the smell of blood and dirt faded, and he could smell Her apples. Her voice on the wind was less of a phantom, and more of an echo. A little far away, and not really Her, but closer. Had been Her before. Would be Her again. And he could pretend that when he wiped the sweat from his brow, it was a gentle hand brushing through his hair. That the warm feeling in his chest wasn’t more than a reflection of what had been there before. That he wasn’t using smoke and mirrors to pretend the pit was flooding with silvery light, and when he turned his head into the mattress and took a deep breath, he wasn’t just lying to his own mind that he was breathing against Her skin.

He might be groaning Her name. He didn’t really care anymore.

He just wanted Her to be here.

And She wasn’t.

When Dean pulled the last stitch through, he opened his eyes, and there was nobody at all.

He tipped his head back with a groan. He just needed to lie down, for one second. Then he’d get back to work. Start looking for new ways—maybe ones that didn’t get him beat up, but he didn’t really care—and maybe that cat. Maybe it was what he needed, just an incentive for Her to come back to him. He’d get Her five cats. Ten, and rent a house on a beach. Maybe Cape Cod. Pretty damn far from California, still the beach. They could get all the sugary drinks and snacks She wanted, then lie in bed for a week.

He’d watch whatever movie She wanted. Read a book for Her. Do fucking anything, just as long as She came home-

There was a rustling sound, and Dean let out a heavy breath, opening his eyes to glare at the cracked ceiling. He should’ve known better than thinking he’d get away with that.

“Cas. You gotta knock.”

“You wouldn’t be able to open the door, Dean.” Cas’ voice was low, and filled a tension Dean didn’t appreciate. Cas wasn’t the one who had been dying. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll live.” He muttered, craning his neck to see Cas staring at him from the edge of the bed. “That it?”

“You know it is not-“

“Awesome.” He dropped his head back down. “See you next time you decide I’m injured enough to check in on.”

Cas sighed. “You know I am busy, Dean, I do not enjoy not talking to you-“

“But you only do it when I’m bleeding out.”

“You bleed out quite often, lately.” Cas muttered, and Dean rolled his eyes, pushing his words through his teeth.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Cas, I don’t got a whole lot going on for me other than bleeding out. So if we could skip the telling me I’m a freakin’ idiot part and cut to what you want-“

“I do not want anything, Dean. And I would not call you an idiot.” Cas said Her name, his voice suddenly soft, and Dean’s hand curled into fists. “She would be angry. That you are doing this for her. I do not think she’d like any plan that gets you hurt like this.”

Dean was going to break his jaw. “Don’t tell me what she’d want-“

“You know I’m right.” Cas’ voice was gentle, and it just made the ache in Dean’s chest worse. “She would not be happy to know that you have been on this path-“

“What path.” Dean rolled his eyes, leaning back down on the mattress. “The one where I get her the hell out of the cage? I’m not apologizing for trying to save her, Cas-“

“Dean,” Cas muttered, but Dean shook his head, and pushed on.

“I won’t give up- No, I can’t give up. She didn’t give up on me, and we didn’t even know about angels or all her magic shit. If Death himself can’t goddamn touch her, that means there’s gotta be something up here that needs her, which means there’s going to be some sort of fucking loophole. Some- Fuck, there has to be some goddamn way-“ His head hurt, and it was spread to his throat. He wouldn’t stop. “Son of a bitch, Cas, there has to be a way-“

He had more to say. About how the world had to need Her, because he’d seen the way it bended for Her. How all colors were vibrant around Her, and the grass seemed to grow under Her feet. He’d seen the gardens She’d make, he knew God himself watched Her and wanted her the same way Dean, so if God needed Her like Dean needed Her, there had to be a way.

And if there wasn’t a way, he’d make one. She said there was always another way, so he’d take whatever gamble he had to, if it might get Her home. If it might fix Sammy, might bring a light back to Bobby’s eyes, might make the house stop being so damn quiet and haunted all the time. The floorboards creaked louder without Her. The night was darker. And nothing was how it should be, without Her there.

But the words died in Dean’s throat. If he said them, the pit would turn into a cavern, and it would be all he was. He’d break apart, and none of Cas’ angel mojo would fix him.

“There may be another way, Dean.” Cas murmured, and Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “But this is not it. That was reckless, and I believe you know that.”

“Doesn’t matter what I know.” Dean grunted. “I’d call that the right amount of recks for this situation.”

“You tried to open a seal, Dean.”

“Didn’t try. Opened it.”

Cas let out another dramatic sigh. “You do understand how that isn’t comforting. I do not approve of Crowley’s methods to deter you, but-“

“You actually siding with freakin’ Crowley here?” Dean glared at Cas under his eyelids. “He sent a bunch of demon goons to kick the shit out of me-“

“And you are lucky they didn’t kill you, Dean. I know what you are planning, and if you proceed with it, I will have to stop you-“

Dean muttered Her name, and Cas fell silent. “She’s down there, Cas. Down there with Michael and Lucifer, in God’s fuckin’ time out corner.”

“I am aware,” Cas muttered, and Dean snorted.

“I’d think you are, but you’re willing to leave her down there-“

“Dean, you know I’m not-“

“I don’t know!” He roared, ignoring the rush of pain through his head as he shot up. “You can say that, Cas, but you don’t gotta live with it like I do! I’m doing what I have to do, I’m doing the only goddamn way I can think of, because she is down there alone with two archangels, and she needs us to get her out, but I’m the only one who’s goddamn willing to fucking do something.”

Cas stared at him for a second. “She would not want you to open the cage, just for her-“

“Stop saying what she’d want.” Dean hissed. “If she hates it, she can tell me herself. When she’s free.”

“Dean.” Cas gave him a sad look, and Dean’s throat ached. “Crowley will continue to attack you. His position as King only lasts as long as Lucifer remains in the cage-“

“I don’t give a shit about Crowley-“

“I am not worried about Crowley.” Cas snapped, voice raising and narrowing his eyes. “I am worried about him killing you, Dean. And Raphael holding your soul hostage. You cannot help her when you are dead.”

Dean scowled, and a lot of the anger was starts to drain from his body. His muscles felt sore, every inch of his body tired, and he might have fucked up his stitches. It didn’t really damn matter. He’d failed. Again. Gotten the shit kicked out of him, gotten yelled at by Cas, and he wasn’t a single step closer to getting Her back.

He’d dream of Her, tonight. He always dreamt of Her, smiling at him like he’d never done anything wrong at all. Like all the sins he’d committed were nothing more than stumbled steps, like he’d never lied to Her or let Her get hurt. Never hurt Her himself, because everything he touched turned to fucking sand in his hands. And She’d been the most precious thing of them all, made of life and light and dancing in the dead of night, and he’d just let Her slip away.

It didn’t matter how hard he swam against the current, trying to get Her back. She’d never been Dean’s to begin with. And when God pulled Her out and took Her to Heaven, She shouldn’t looked back. Heaven was what She deserved.

But there would be no place for a Shadow.

It would be better that way. He was being fucking selfish, wanting Her all to himself. To touch and love and kiss until She giggled and squirmed in his arms. He’d always known he’d never be worthy of Her. And Christ, he was doing all he could be wrong. But no scale was tipped in his favor. And there’s no world where She looked at Dean—acting without thinking, reeking of booze and lonely sex—and decides that she’d have him over paradise.

But he didn’t know how to do any of this without Her.

He was a selfish son of a bitch.

It didn’t matter if he never got Her back.

Dean’s head bowed, breathing heavy as he tried to keep the pit from opening further, from taking whatever last vital organ was still cruelly keeping him alive, and it didn’t matter.

A choked, low sound left him, and nothing mattered.

Two fingers pressed to his brow, and the splitting headache faded with the stabbing pain in his stomach. The pain in his chest didn’t heal, though.

When he looked up at Cas, standing over him with a soft, almost wounded expression, it only stretched a little further, and made the world a little darker.

“Human’s call that grief,” Dean said under his breath, dropping his gaze to his own knees. “That’s what’s you’re feelin’, Cas. But she’s not dead-“

“She is not with us.” Cas murmured. “And if my wings feel as if they are missing, I can only imagine what you are experiencing.”

Dean didn’t answer. He didn’t have the words for it, not one that would sound right. It wasn’t like a part of him was missing, or as he’d just been cut in half. That would’ve been far too simple, too easy to get past.

It was like he was missing. Like he’d been plunged underwater, dragged away from the entire world, and it was just above the surface but no matter how he clawed to get back to it, he was never able to breach the waves.

And Cas sighed, taking a slight step back. “I do not expect you to give up on her, Dean. But you cannot do that again.”

“I won’t.” He grunted, and if he was stronger, he’d just damn the consequences, damn his own soul, and open the cage to get Her back. Cas said Raphael wanted to start the apocalypse again, Dean could get a sponsorship or something.

But She’d never forgive him, when She got out. She’d curse his name, and Dean would lose Her all the same.

Selfish.

It didn’t matter.

“Thank you. I am handling it, Dean. I promise.”

Dean frowned at him. “It?”

“I said I wouldn’t do it,” Dean grumbled, taking at deep breath as he scanned over Cas’ face.

He looked tired. Worn, will parts of his trench coat stained with things Dean didn’t really want to know about.

“Cas.” He muttered, words still low. “You know we can help, man. If there’s anything with the Heaven shit you need-“

“No, Dean.” Cas shook his head. “I told you, I am handling it. I have support.”

“Support?”

“Other angels. Who have chosen my side.”

Dean frowned. Something about that sounded off. Cas wasn’t blinking at all, but that was normal. His voice was firm and deep, but that was also normal. Cas was pretty hard to read, no matter what. And Dean’s own exhaustion wasn’t helping.

“You got anything for us?” He tried one more time, and the soreness was giving way to tension. “Just- a hunt? Any way we can help you gank Raphael faster?”

Cas shook his head, and Dean took an unsteady breath. He couldn’t keep doing nothing. Looking for another way to get her out and coming up empty handed. Maybe this would help. Maybe just one hunt that amounted to more than broken bones and the smell of gasoline would get him back on track. He’d get all his energy back, find whatever angel thing Cas sent them to take care of, and it would be the way to get Her out.

Or maybe he’d just get the shit beat out of him again.

Either way, he wouldn’t just be waiting for Her to appear in the bathroom doorway, or moaning Her name while he fucked some nameless chick. He’d be doing something.

“Dean-“

“C’mon, man.” Dean gave Cas his best winning grin, ignoring how his face felt sort of swollen from crying. “Give us something. I get you’re a big shot angel now, but there’s gotta be like, an errand me and Sam can run for you. Help in this war with Raphael thing.”

“I do not have any errands. And in your current state, I don’t think involving yourself in my war would prove useful.”

“Cas.” He muttered, letting his voice crack slightly. He couldn’t just sit here, in the pit. He’d fall into it, and not have Her light to guide him back out. “Fuck, I’ve got my foot on the pedal, man. I know that. At least give me somewhere to steer.”

Cas paused, watching Dean so intently he could feel in searing over his skin, and he needed this to work. For Cas to see that he wasn’t just begging like a bitch. He needed this. Otherwise, the place he drove might be off a goddamn cliff.

And whatever Cas saw—as Dean let a little bit of the pit show all over his face—seemed to be enough.

“Fine.” He sighed. “But you have to be careful, Dean. No one in Heaven or Hell is your biggest fan right now-“

“I don’t care about them, Cas, I got you.” Dean grinned, and Cas didn’t return it.

“If you die,” Cas muttered Her name. “She will break out of the cage, just to kill me. And,” he shot Dean a glare. “That is not a suggestion. You will have to be careful, Dean-“

“I will be. What’re we lookin’ at?”

Cas sighed again, frowning at the air as he spoke “I have sources that tell me Crowley is looking for something. Something powerful. I am not sure what, but if you must do something, figuring out what would be helpful.”

“What Crowley’s looking for?”

Cas nodded, and Dean sat up a little taller.

Finding something. He could find something. He’d always smoked Sammy at hide and seek, and he was a pretty awesome snooper. Cas left—with another warning to Dean not to do something stupid, which wasn’t really necessary—and Dean had something to do.

In the morning. When Sam got back, and he could use the next day to actually be useful, instead of a drunken, selfish burden.

But maybe this was selfish as well. Maybe he should be spending time trying to think of the next plan to get Her out, instead of running around doing shit Cas could probably do himself. That might get done faster, with a handful of angels on the case rather than Dean.

Or She’d be pissed at him, for not helping Cas. She’d help Cas. Shit, if She was here, Cas might have already won the war in Heaven.

But She wasn’t. Here.

Wasn’t with Dean.

And he would get Her back. As he took the letter off the table, carefully tucking it into the box—kept at the bottom of his bag, right next to Velma the stuffed cat—Dean had to remember that he kept writing because She would come back. And he’d give Her the letters, and everything would be fine.

Right now it wasn’t. Right now it was like sitting in some sort of stasis, downing the last of the whiskey bottle he’d gotten at the bar, staring at the ceiling and trying to work out how he’d get through the day.

Thinking of Her, probably. Not the pain She might be in, but how the better moments. Her on his chest as they slept, or under Dean’s body as he kissed Her softly.

He didn’t know if he’d ever get to kiss Her again.

The bottle was empty. The motel room was empty, and there wouldn’t be any more company for him tonight. He didn’t see that hallucination of Her anymore, not since late September. It didn’t matter if he was wasted enough he didn’t know his own name—only the pain in his chest and the lack of Her at his side—Dean just couldn’t get Her back.

He couldn’t get Her back.

It would be good to help Cas. Cas had helped him, and Dean had pleaded for it. But the longer Cas was gone—the longer it was just Dean and the rattling sound of the heater—the more he wanted to just fucking damn it. If he couldn’t get the seals and open the cage, he’d find another way. Death wouldn’t help, but maybe another archangel could. Maybe there was some sort of Cage guard, that could slip her out. Maybe another spell he could try, a back entrance he could use.

But Bobby had looked for all of that, and there wasn’t a single damn thing.

He’d find something. And Crowley was looking for something powerful. Maybe he’d been right the first time, and this would help him get on track to free Her.

Or maybe She’d just get out some other way tomorrow, and think that Dean had given up on Her.

He felt sort of sick. He was way too damn tired to be trying to figure this out. His head was spinning, and it felt like his heart was withering in his body. He couldn’t sleep. It didn’t matter how he paced around the room, sat and stared at the laptop screen, or lay on the bathroom floor. The bed was too stiff, too cold, and when he stretched his arms out a new, straining pain—just to the right of his heart—ripped through him at the empty mattress at his side.

He couldn’t sleep with a replacement, though. He hadn’t be able to stomach it, since the dreams of Her had started up. There was something fucking wrong about waking up with a passing body—some woman who had looked like Her in the shadows of the bar, enough for Dean to pretend, but then looked like a faded mockery in the morning light—when he’d just been holding Her in his sleep. When he’d spent the whole night dreaming of kissing Her and dancing in some old west saloon.

It made him feel something, at least. Something like poison, in his veins and eating at his hands.

They shouldn’t be allowed to touch Her, when She returned.

If She even wanted to touch him.

She might, if he went through with helping Cas. He didn’t have a damn clue where to start, though. She would. So maybe he could get Her out first, then help Cas. Or he could keep wading through the mud, letting it drag him further under, and never actually save Her because he just kept wandering in damn circles. Or She’d think Dean wasn’t burning himself to ash to get Her out.

Dean pushed up with a groan, fumbling for his phone. He shouldn’t be trusted to make any choices, or even do any right now. Most of his thoughts just always looped back to Her.

The call rang about six or seven times, before it was picked up.

If She was here, it would’ve been answered in three.

“Hey, Dean, everything alright?”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut again. “Hey Jody. Yeah, uh- Is Bobby there?”

Jody sighed. “Not here, no.”

He paused. “But… his phone is?”

“He left it at the house. I was over to make some food, heard it ringing in the library.”

“Where’d he go, town?”

“No.” Jody’s voice went heavier, and Dean braced himself. “He’s headed up to the waterfall, tending to that girl’s grave, said he’d be back in a few hours.”

A lump was forming in Dean’s throat. “He take the truck?”

“Um,” there was a pause, and Dean heard something shuffle on the other end of the line. “Don’t look like it. Firebird is gone, through.” Dean could hear the frown in her voice. “You boys need something from him? Anything I can help with?”

He shook his head, fighting down the strain in his voice. “Nah, I was just hoping to get his advice on something-“

Dean frowned. “It was hunting, sorta- What do you mean, not a good idea?”

“I mean you both lost the same person, Dean. And any calls either of you make, you’re not going to be making them with a clear head.”

“I got a clear head-“

“How much have you had to drink.”

He scowled. “That doesn’t matter.”

Jody barked a laugh. “Alright, kid. Tell what you think Bobby can help you with, and I’ll make the call if he needs to hear it.”

“Just a book.” Dean muttered. “For the library. It’s- I think she’d like it. Wanted to know if we already had it.”

Jody didn’t ask what she Dean was talking about. She’d seemed to pick up pretty quickly that when Dean or Bobby said she like that—a lower tone, with a slight edge to their voice but something smooth and gentle in the word itself—it was only referring to Her. And Dean had found Her a book, so that wasn’t technically a lie. It wasn’t what he’d called about, but it could be.

Jody didn’t seem to believe that, though.

“Dean,” she said, tone sort of stern, and Dean frowned. “I know you don’t like talking about your feelings, and I’m not trying to make you or whatever, but I know you didn’t call Bobby at 1am to talk about a book.”

“I-“ Dean frowned. “Why are you there at 1am?”

“Nice try. What’s wrong.”

Dean sighed, setting the phone to speaker and placing it on his knee. “It’s nothin’ important, Jody. I can talk to Sam about it, or call back in the morning-“

“If you’re calling now, it’s important. And don’t hang up on me, I’ll call you back until you pick up and tell me I’m not about to witness one of those hunter funerals y’all have talked about.”

“I’m not going to kill myself-“

“Dean.”

There was no winning this. And he had called for advice.

Goddamnit.

“Talked to Cas, today.” He muttered, fidgeting with his watch, and Jody just waited for him to continue. “Asked him about the war, going on in Heaven. How we could help. He said Crowley’s after something, and if we have to help, we could look into what.”

He could hear the frown in Jody’s voice. “If you have to help. He not want it or something?”

“I sorta- I asked him. A lot. I’m out of leads, for the cage. Last thing I tried went to shit, and I- Fucking-“ He rubbed his brow, trying to force his words out in a way that didn’t sound pathetic. “It still hurts, Jody. And I feel like I’m just sittin’ in it. And I damn near forced Cas to let me help, but then he’s gone and it’s all-“

He cut himself off, and son of a bitch it was a lot easier to talk about it when it was with Her, in letters. Dean wasn’t even sure there were words to describe it. The way the world was just worse, and the only way out of it was Her coming home. He kept trying, and it never felt like enough.

“You know about my family, Dean?”

He frowned, and grunted an acknowledgment.

Jody let out a slow breath through the speaker. “You know how they died?”

“Jody, if this a lecture about grief or whatever, I’ve gotten enough of them-“

“Well shut up and hear one more.” Jody snapped Her name, and Dean mouth closed. “I don’t know a lot about her, expect that you and Bobby love her. That you’re willing to do anything to get her home. But you know what the definition of madness is?”

Dean paused. He did. She’d told him once, in some diner a few years ago.

He’d poked Her nose with a French fry after, and then she’d almost bit his fingers off.

He loved Her so fucking much.

“Repeating something.” He grunted, and Jody sighed.

“Working.”

“Good.” Jody sighed, and Dean slumped. “You get what I’m telling you?”

“Yeah.” He muttered. “Jody?”

She hummed, and he took a heavy breath.

“I can’t stop trying to get her out. If I do- I- I can’t-“

“I know, Dean. I got that a while ago.” Jody said Her name, and the world was sort of blurring. “Doing one thing for your friend isn’t going to keep her in the cage longer. The break might be good of you. Focus on something with a reward at the end.”

Dean nodded, and Jody cleared her throat.

“This helping?”

“Yeah.” He muttered. “Thanks. You think you can mention to Bobby that I called? Tell him we’re looking for something Crowley might want. Maybe to try and find some demons?”

“Course.” Jody’s voice went soft, but not the way Cas’ had been. That had been more in a reflection of Dean’s own pain. Almost pity, mixed with Cas’ own loss.

This was just soft. It made Dean feel sort of small, but not like he could be stepped on, or was weak. Like the sky was falling, but there was still going to be something to cover him, and keep him safe.

“Let me know if you need anything else, Dean. I’m here.”

“Thanks.” He muttered. “Night, Jody.”

The line dropped, and he let out a slow breath.

Something with a reward at the end. They’d find what Crowley was looking for, and—on down time—Dean could keep working on how to get Her home. He wasn’t abandoning Her. He’d never abandon Her.

He wasn’t sure how to do that if he tried.

This place had really high ceilings.

High like a church, but all stone and less light. Almost dead feeling, with how empty and quiet it was. Dean’s steps echoed, as he walked down the hall, hand on his sword.

He had a sword. That was fucking awesome. He had a sword, and a suit of leather and metal armor, and whenever he passed the someone—all them women in long dresses or men in weird, fancy outfits—they bowed their heads in his direction. Like they respected him, enough to see he was there.

This was a pretty great dream. If not just because he got a sword, because he’d had something like it before. And he knew exactly where he was going.

His pace picked up, until he was almost sprinting through the halls. Nobody spared him a glance as he ran, but they were all fading into color anyway.

The only important thing was ahead of him, not behind.

When he skid around the corner and up the steps, he could almost feel it. The way something just to the right of his heart felt like it was glowing, and how time began to slow.

The air smelled liked Eden apples, more and more every second.

And there She was. Standing on a balcony and turning around Dean called Her name, her face splitting into a wide, bright smile.

She looked like She was going to run to him, but Dean was faster. He slammed into Her, lifting Her up into the air and spinning her around with a grin so wide it hurt. When She laughed, he wanted to bottle the sound. Maybe put it on a mixtape, so back out there he could hear it over and over again.

It would ring in his ears when he woke up. Follow him like a hungry stray, begging for Dean give it more attention when he tried to look away. But he’d let it.

He’d do damn near anything, just to keep hearing the sound of Her joy.

She wrapped Her arms around his neck, as he set Her down, and Dean crashed his lips into Her’s. She tasted like Her apples, and a little bit of cherry and soda. When he reached down for Her thigh, She let him grab it and hook it around his waist. Moaned into Dean’s mouth like a song, when he angled his mouth over Her’s to deepen the kiss.

And She was entirely relaxed in Dean’s arms. Letting him move Her however he needed to feel Her a little more, tugging on his hair as She whined a sound like his name, and he felt his pants grow tight.

He had to pull back, with heavy breaths and a high feeling over his head. Still holding Her tight to his chest, because She’d stay there until he was forced to let go.

She let out a soft, breathy laugh, ghosting Her lips back over Dean’s, and he grinned.

“Hey, Princess.” He said, bumping their noses together, and Her eyes shined on his.

A little glossy, but still so fucking bright.

“Dean.” She whispered, and he’d never not lose it over how She said it. Long and sweet and sort of like it was a note in a song. “You shouldn’t be kissing me like that in daylight. Someone could see.”

He snorted, dropped his mouth to Her neck. “Let ‘em. Everyone should know how I worship my girl.”

“But-“ She made a tiny noise as Dean lips latched on Her throat. “Oh- Dean-“

He hummed, and She took a deep breath.

“I- It won’t be good if someone catches us-“ She moaned as he kneaded Her waist, and Dean grinned against Her skin.

“I know, baby.” He kissed along Her collarbone, and Her head tipped further back. “But I think you like it, right. Like people knowing you’re mine-“

She melted into him with another soft sound, and son of a bitch, Dean couldn’t tell if his brain was doing him a favor or not. She looked like something higher than an angel, when he leaned back pressed a sloppy kiss to Her cheek. And he got to hold Her like this in here. Have Her slumped against him with complete trust and control, as if She didn’t understand that Dean would probably rip his heart of out his chest as an offering, if she told him Her’s was hurting.

He got to watch Her blink at him slowly, a dazed and happy smile on Her lips.

But it was only in here.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured Her name, and Her breath hitched, that pretty flush spreading over Her cheeks.

“Thank you, De.”

“Course, baby.” He dropped his brow to Her shoulder, almost clinging to Her body. This dream wouldn’t be ripped away, if he just held on tight enough. “Can I ask you something?”

She hummed, petting Dean’s hair, and a deep breath escaped his chest with ease.

“If- Y’know in all those drama, soapy shows you watch-“

“I watch?”

He sighed. “Fine, I watch. But you watch them with me-“

“Because you’re cute. I don’t actually like them.”

He pulled back to frown at Her. “You don’t like Dr. Sexy?”

She shrugged. “I like you.”

“But-“

“Is that your question? If I like Dr. Sexy?” She gave him a pointed look, resting Her chin on his chest, and he rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“Then ask the real question, Deano-“

He nipped at Her nose, and She wiggled against him with a squeak. That wasn’t helping his dream boner. Neither was the way Her nails dug into his arm, or how She threw Her head back with a tiny moan—eyes fluttering and body going slack—when Dean picked Her up and pinned Her against the wall, his lips returning to Her throat.

“So bossy,” he muttered, and Her mouth fell open with a gasp. “Look at you, so fuckin’ pretty.”

He reached up with one hand, trying to brush the hair out of Her face, and She caught his wrist with a desperate expression.

“Dean,” She whispered, squeezing Her hand three times. “Please. Please, just-“

She rolled Her hips with another tiny sound, and he had to take a slow, long breath.

Not in a dream. Not when it wasn’t even real, and She was still his best friend, trapped in Hell.

“Out there, Princess.” He pressed as soft kiss to Her lips, letting Her chase him to a deeper one when he tried to pull away. “But I know, sweetheart. I know.”

She sighed, shaking Her head as She leaned back to scan over Dean with an unreadable expression.

“What did you want to ask me?”

He swallowed, reaching up to cup Her cheek. She was pressed right against his body, with Her legs hooked around his torso and Her arms resting back over Dean’s shoulders. She was so close, close enough that Dean could feel the rise and fall of Her chest, feel Her heartbeat under his fingers when his hand moved to Her neck. And She didn’t flinch or pull away. She just looked at him with bright eyes, and the air felt too thin.

“In the shows,” he mumbled, playing with the hair near Her neck. “They always got an episode where someone’s gotta choose. The world or-“

“Just one person.” She whispered, and he nodded.

“You know what you’d choose?”

She stared at him, and suddenly, Dean was terrified of Her answer. She was going to tell him that She’d always chose anyone but him. Maybe suddenly morph into Dad, who’d start shouting at him that he was being an idiot, that he shouldn’t even feel any guilt about Her in the cage. That he was free of some woman weighing him down, when Dean was pretty sure the was some sort of iron chair wrapped around his throat, and it only got tighter the longer She was gone.

But She didn’t turn into Dad. Or tell Dean She hated him.

She just gave Dean a sad, small smile, and held his hand against Her face.

“I do. But I wouldn’t let it get to that, De.” Her voice broke slightly, and when Dean’s thumb moved to the bridge of Her nose, she let out a soft sigh. “I wouldn’t.” She mumble, nothing but putty in his arms. “I promise, it’s not gonna get to that-“

“I know, baby.” He muttered. “I know. You know I’d choose you, right. You don’t gotta tell me yours-“

“I’d choose you.” She cut him off with a soft breath, eyes fluttering slightly, and the world did a sort of stutter stop. “All the way down.”

He nodded, and opened his mouth to tell Her again. That it was still all the way down, always all the way down, and he’d love Her until he didn’t have anything left in his body.

But the world was starting to flicker. Wave in and out.

And Dean barely got to crash into one last, desperate kiss before She was gone.

The door slammed, and Dean had a headache again. It was always so goddamn bright into morning, it was like the sky was angling the freakin’ sun right into his eyes. There was birdsong, drifting through the air outside and the smell of coffee somewhere close. His throat was dry, his stomach feeling like it was filled with acid, and Goddamnit he had to get up.

He didn’t want to.

But he was even more useless, just fucking lying here with the covers over his face and the pit gaping in his chest.

“You’re up.” Sam said, not glancing up from his laptop, and Dean grunted.

“How long you been back.”

“Few hours. It’s almost noon.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “And you didn’t freakin’ wake me up?”

“I’m not your clock, Dean.”

“Yeah, and now we’re running behind-“

“Behind on what?” Sam rolled his eyes. “Your drinking schedule?”

“Sam.” He grunted, rubbing his brow. “I’m not in the goddamn mood-“

“Because you lost your girlfriend. Yeah, I know.”

Dean stared ahead blankly, forcing himself to take long, deep breaths through his nose. He couldn’t beat Sam up. For one, he hadn’t tipped far enough over the edge to not pull punches, and Sam was a fucking fridge without a soul. He’d get his ass kicked. But this wasn’t Sam’s fault. Wasn’t even Sam. And Dean had been on board with the soul blocker plan. It was sort of his fault.

But Sam could sneer at Dean all he goddamn wanted.

She was the line. And Sam was freaking toeing it.

“Dude.” Dean said, forcing his voice to remain even. “What did we talk about.”

“Waking you up-“

Dean snapped Her name, and Sam finally looked up. “What did we talk about, with Her?”

Sam gave him a dry look. “Nothing, Dean. We haven’t talked to her in like, a year.” He frowned. “Are you seeing hallucinations of her?”

“No- I- Not for-“ Dean sputtered, pushing himself to his feet. “Goddamnit, Sam-“

“I don’t care if you are, Dean. Sort of guessed you were. You call her name when you sleep.” Sam shrugged, looking back to the laptop. “But you probably shouldn’t drive, if you are.”

Deep breaths. Dean needed to take deep breaths. “Sam.”

Sam hummed, and Dean’s fist curled.

“Look at me.”

Sam sighed, and gave Dean a dramatic, pointed stare. “What, Dean. I’m trying to get us ready for our next case-“

“Well, don’t. I’ve got what we’re doing, and we still need to talk about her-“

“Oh, for-“ Sam groaned, giving Dean an almost pitying look. “Look. I know you’re like, in love with her. And you miss her, or whatever. But I’ve got an actual case, Dean, and literally everyone has told you that the cage can’t be fucked with-“

“Someone fucked with it for you.” Dean snapped. “Got you out just fine.”

“And I’ve told you, I don’t know who. I’m not wasting time on this-“

“It’s not-“ Deep fucking breaths. Don’t punch the wall. “Sam, I’m not talking about that-“

“You’re always talking about that, Dean. All you do is drink and bitch about how you love her-“

That was enough.

Dean stomped over to the table, grabbed out his pistol from his pillow, and slammed Sam’s laptop down with a scowl. Sam blinked at him, shoulders squaring, and he could beat Dean up all he fucking wanted. He’d get to feel something, and then he’d just get up after and keep going until it either killed him, or he actually got to fucking speak.

“What did we talk about.” He hissed Her name through his teeth. “What did I tell you about her.”

Sam sighed, voice was too neutral for Dean’s liking. “That I should think about what I’m going to say before I say it, three times, and if you wouldn’t say it about her, I should shut the hell up.”

“Right. Good.” Dean pushed back up, tucking the gun away and crossing his arms over his chest. “Pack your shit up, Sammy, we’re heading out.”

Sam frowned at him, not moving. “Out where.”

“To find a demon.”

“A demon?” Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, if you want a demon, we can you one later-“

“I don’t want- Christ, Sam, we’re interrogating it.”

“Why would we do that.”

Dean sighed. “Because Cas has got something for us to do. Crowley’s looking for something, we need to work out, what,” he made a wide gesture. “Demon.”

Sam just stared at him. “No.”

“Sam, I ain’t asking-“

“Cas can handle that himself, he’s an angel. I have a case for us, the hunters-“

“I don’t care.” Dean grunted, turning towards his bag. They packed a little heavier than before—crashing at Bobby’s less—but it was still quick to gather. He just needed his shoes. “We’re doing the demon thing, not some salt and burn.”

“It’s not some salt and burn, Dean, it’s a pretty massive vamp nest in Cadillac, South Carolina, which isn’t even that far.”

“Cadillac? Like the car?”

“Yeah. If we hit the road in an hour, we’ll be there before sunset-“

“No.” Dean grunted, double checking that he had Velma and the box, and Sam let out a bitch sigh.

“Dude, I think they’ve got, like, an infestation.”

“Other hunters will deal with it.”

“Haven’t we been talking about empathy, Dean?” Sam said, tone smug, and Dean drew back up.

He looked fucking smug, as well. Like he’d just done a freakin’ genius chess move or something.

Dean had never known how to play chess. She’d known how the pieces worked, but Sammy said She was impossible to play against because she just moved the pieces in a way She thought looked cool, and won every time.

He fucking missed Her.

He was also going to kill Sam.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean.”

“Empathy is helping people, right dean?” Sam raised his brows. “This would be helping people. A lot more than all the shit you’ve been doing to get her out.”

Dean took a long, heavy breath. “And?”

“And I told you, Cas can handle Crowley without us. We should be helping people.”

“Hunting the fuckin’ King of Hell will be helping people-“

“It’ll be helping you.” Sam said Her name in a bored tone, and that wasn’t how it should be fucking said. “She’d choose to help people.”

“She’d help you. If this is about gettin’ her out, does it even matter? If you were in the cage alone, Sam, she’d be doing everything to help you. To shut the hell up, and let’s go.” Dean could hear his own voice, dropping to almost a growl, and Sam glanced up with a small frown.

“So?”

Dean stared at him. Not Sammy. That wasn’t Sammy, not his Sammy, because his Sammy would never question helping Her. Normal Sammy would be pissed at the idea of leaving Her in the cage.

He had to try a different approach, before his head exploded.

“Don’t you wanna know what the hell Crowley’s so interested in?”

“Not really, no.”

Dean took a long, slow breath. Maybe he’d just freaking leave Sam here, and they’d split up. They’d done it before, and that had always turned out sorta fine.

“I’m going for a walk.” Dean grunted, and Sam sighed, looking back down.

“Okay. Take your phone, you have a missed call from Bobby.”

“A-“ Dean cut himself off with one, last, slow breath. Not his fault. “Whatever.”

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, and stomped outside as he dialed Bobby.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Bobby, it’s me-“

“You alright, boy?” Bobby cut Dean off, words tight. “Heard you were callin’ past midnight, yesterday.”

“Yeah, I-“ Dean sighed, tipping his head back to frown at the tree branches. “Rough night. Better now. What’d you call me for?”

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t dead, ya idjit.”

“Well, I’m not, so-“

“Did you seriously try breaking a fuckin’ seal?”

Dean felt the blood drain from his face. “Uh- Who told you about that-“

“Cas.” Bobby grunted. “Think he wants me to keep an eye on you. Said you don’t seem to be doin’ too well.”

Dean scowled. “Bobby, I’m fine-“

“That was a dumb fuckin’ move, Dean. You coulda gotten yourself damn killed-“

“I’ve heard-“

“You have any idea what the hell that would do to her?” Bobby snapped, and Dean’s spine went rigid. “If she got out, came back, then I had to tell ‘er you went and got yourself killed while she was gone? You know what she’d fuckin’ do?”

“Bobby.” Dean muttered. “I don’t-“

“She’d make the apocalypse look like a goddamn tea party, dumbass. I know I don’t got legs to stand on, but if you keep fucking actin’ like she ain’t gonna give a shit whether you live or die, she’s gonna kill you before Crowley gets your sorry ass.”

Dean swallowed, and that sore lump was back in his throat. He was getting pretty fucking sick of it. “I know, Bobby. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be sorry, Dean. Stop trying to kill yourself.”

“I’m not-“ Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. “Bobby, did Jody pass on my message?”

Bobby grunted. “Yeah, lookin’ for demons. Dean, if you go and die, I’ll drag you up from hell and lock you in your room ‘till she’s home.”

He shouldn’t like that idea. Just waiting in their room, surrounded by reminders that She really did existed, and had really cared about Dean and—at least in a few ways—wanted him, until She got home. And one day She’d just walk through the door, straddle Dean’s lap, and he’d get to hold Her until she understood how goddamn sorry he was. Maybe he’d show Her, with his hands and mouth and-

“Dean.”

“Yeah, I got it.” He grumbled. “Can I get a demon, please?”

There was a moment of silence, then Bobby’s rough voice. “I got wind for you that there’s a lotta them, down in Cadillac.”

Dean froze. “Cadillac? South Carolina?”

“Yep. Why, you heard of it?”

“Yeah, like an hour ago.” Dean glanced back to the motel. This conversation was gonna freakin’ suck. “Thanks, Bobby.”

The call ended, and someone out there had to be goddamn fucking with him. Making everything some kind of big fucking joke, on Dean himself. He didn’t know what the hell he’d done to who, but now he had to go apologize to Sam about a fight he should’ve won, and drive to town called Cadillac.

Cadillacs fucking sucked.

“Sam.” He grunted, pushing back into the room. “Get it the car.”

Sam sighed. “Dean, I’ve told you I’m not doing this goose chase-“

“I’m not either.” He muttered, grabbing his bag. “You win. we’re going to Cadillac.”

It wasn’t until they were on the road, that Sam started to question why Dean was suddenly all in on South Carolina. And he didn’t seem to have enough emotion to care anyway, when Den told him about the demons. Just shrugged, and muttered guess you got lucky, huh.

Dean used the drive to practice his ignoring skills. When he took a sharp turn and Sam let out a bitch sigh, Dean ignored it. When he turned up the volume and Sam made a sour face, Dean made it a point to keep his gaze fixed out the window shield. It didn’t how many times Sam grumbled about wrong turns and Dean being dramatic, he wasn’t going to react. He’d keep getting Her snacks at the gas stations, because not doing that would be another form of giving up on Her, and Dean simply damn refused to. He’d drum all the wheel all he wanted, because it was his fucking car.

He’d even ignore Sam’s look of disbelief, when a pop-punk song popped up on the mixtape.

“Really, Dean? I have never once heard you listen to this song-“

“I don’t listen to it.” He muttered Her name, and his grip tightened on the wheel at Sam’s dramatic sigh. “She likes it.”

“I know that, Dean, but she’s not here-“

“Sam.” Dean gave him a firm, unwavering glare. “You can either be in the car and shut the hell up, or sit of the freakin’ roof.”

“C’mon, man, it’s not a good-“

“What did I say.”

Sam scowled, but muttered, “Don’t talk about her if it’s not something you’d say.”

Dean gave a sharp nod, and looked back to the road. He knew it was pathetic, to play the music just to torture himself with thinking about Her. But he loved Her, and he was past pathetic. Pathetic started with dreaming of someone, and Dean had been doing that for freaking years.

He just missed Her. And as long as shit kept not mattering, he’d keep listening to Her music until it did.

Until She was home, and he could look at his motel bed and know She’d be sleeping on the other side.

Pontiac wasn’t a huge town. Easy to find a cheap motel, and stay within walking distance of a bar. And the place was really freaking green. Sam said it was a wetland, but that just seemed to mean nice looking swamp. Plants and trees and a whole lotta birds, singing in overlapping notes as the sun started to set.

The bugs came out. Dean had barely stepped out of the car, when he got a back. Sam looked at him like he was insane, when he whacked his arm, but Sam wasn’t getting freakin’ eaten alive. Sam didn’t have a bunch of fireflies try and land on his face, when they walked out of the lobby.

And maybe Dean was losing his goddamn mind, but he could swear he was smelling it.

Her.

“We’ll keep an eye out for demons,” Sam said as they unpacked, and Dean felt through his bag for Velma and the box. “But this is a vamp case, Dean. We need to treat it like one.”

Dean nodded. “Whatever. You gonna use the shower, or can I take it.”

Sam stared at him. “It’s Six pm.”

“And?” Dean scowled. “A man isn’t allowed to keep himself clean in freakin’ bug country?”

“A shower will actually attract more bugs.” Sam shrugged. “I’m going to the bar. You can…” Sam gave him an odd look. “Shower.”

Dean waited until the door was closed, and grabbed one of the paper sheets from the motel desk, along with his own pen, and shoved them under his pillow before heading to the bathroom.

He still didn’t look in the mirror. But when he stepped into the shower, he glanced down at his dick between his legs, and let out a heavy sigh.

There were two choices here. Neither of them made him a good man.

He could chase distraction in some girl at the bar, and stray one step further from the holiest thing he’d ever know. Betray Her even more, when it would barely make him feel anything at all.

Or he could take care of himself—with thoughts of Her, as if she wasn’t getting tortured in hell as they spoke—and drink the rest of the pain away.

And just the thought of Her was already doing it. He could smell Her apple through the steam of the shower, and his was making his cock twitch all by itself. All he had to do was close his eyes, and he could almost see him. Smiling at him, with bright eyes and shiny hair, framing every feature so well Dean wasn’t sure how She was human. Touchable, by shadows of men like him.

He was a shadow of a man. Barely even something from the mud, anymore.

Because he wrapped his cock in his hand, and started to pump, letting his brain carry him wherever it wanted to go.

Her. On all fours in front of him, eyes fluttering as She gave him that sweet smile, right before taking Dean in Her mouth. She’d look so fucking perfect like that, lips swollen and drool falling out of Her mouth. She’d blink lazily up at him as he played with Her hair, sliding Her up and down until She was moaning, and he was right on the verge of snapping in half. Ass in the air, tits bouncing. Something sent down from a little above heaven.

Then Her hand would slide between her legs as She sucked Dean’s cock, and he’d pull Her off with a popping sound. Lay Her back down on the bed—he’d have to use a bed, it was what She deserved—and run his fingers between her soaked pussy lips. Wrap his lips around Her clit, or just slide himself inside of Her, and watch Her mouth fall open as he bottomed out, and she squeezed around him.

He came with a grunt, hand slipping slightly against the shower wall.

The air still smelled like apple.

When he walked out of the bathroom, there was an apple on the sink.

“It just appeared?” Sam frowned at him across the table a few hours and several drinks later, turning the apple in his hand. “Are you sure it wasn’t there when you walked into the bathroom.”

“Had to have. I would’ve noticed a random apple on the freakin’ sink.”

“Huh.”

Dean glowered. “Really? Huh?”

“Yeah, Dean, I don’t know what you want me to do about it-“

“I don’t know, something-“

“It’s just an apple, dude.” Sam rolled his eyes, gaze wandering somewhere over Dean’s head. “I’m gonna go to the bar.”

He didn’t wait before he was standing, leaving Dean alone the apple. When Dean glanced over his shoulder, Sam had cozied up with a brunette in about five seconds, and didn’t seem to be all that interested in anything else.

Dean sighed, glancing back to the apple. It was just an apple. Not an Eden apple, a freakin’ Pink Lady or something. But he could still smell Her-

“Hey,” a hand landed on his shoulder, and Dean tensed. “Drinking all alone?”

“No.” Dean grunted, grabbing his bottle and the apple, giving the chick a tight grin. She was pretty, a huge rack that was almost falling out of her top, but not Her. Dean only fucking wanted Her. “I’m heading out. Uh- Good luck.”

He wandered back to the motel in the dark. The streets were long, and the night was longer, and by the time he got back to the room, he wasn’t sure if he was losing his damn mind, or seeing a million fireflies dancing around his body. He had downed three shots and half a bottle of whiskey. Sleep would fix it.

But he had something more important to do, first.

——————

Dec. 18th - 2010

Princess,

Been a long day. Most days are long days, without you. Everyone’s pissed at me, all for different shit, and it’s exhausting. Sam’s still being a dick. I swear to god, baby, you’d stab him for half the stuff coming out of his mouth.

You wouldn’t stab him. It’s Sammy, far as you know. Hell, you might just walk back through the door, and he’ll turn into Sammy. Start talking about some nerd shit and showing you books, like he hasn’t been whoring around in every town we go to.

I’ve been thinking about if we’d known you, before the moroi. Maybe we would’ve met on some other case, or just all had normal lives. Probably just Bobby, introducing us to you as kids. You and Sammy would’ve been best friends, and you wouldn’t have even looked at me. Bobby’s been telling me and Jody (the sheriff lady) about what you were like as a kid. We have to get him drunk, first, but that’s pretty freaking easy lately.

He says you loved books and animals and other girl stuff. But Sammy liked girl stuff, too. Bobby mentioned that you used to mix plants in the yard to make potions, and I remember Sammy doing that.

Only Bobby said one your potions turned a bunch of his cars into pure gold, and the other one attracted all the stray dogs in the neighborhood. Then he said you had a tea party with them, but I’m not sure if he’s making that part up. He was pretty freaking drunk.

Sammy’s potion tasted like ass. He asked me to drink it, and I couldn’t say no. He would’ve cried, Princess, and you’ve never seen Sammy about to cry. It’s like a whining puppy. So I drank his potion, and then I started throwing up for like a week. Dad was pretty pissed, thought I ordered them food, and it could have gotten Sammy poisoned too. Turned out the kid just put a bug in the potion. He liked bugs. Bobby says you liked bugs, too.

Bugs are gross, sweetheart. But if being honest with you, I can see you asking me to hold a bug, and I do it. For you. I’d just be happy you were giving me the time of day, when you’d be spending all your attention on Sammy.

What I’m trying to tell you is that I think I love you every time. I think if you were an actual Princess, I’d keep loving you from afar, like if you were Sammy’s bug friend and I was just his stupid older brother. And if you looked at me one day and asked me to do something for you, I’d make the moon move backwards. If you loved me back (because I love you. Just in case you frogot forgot) I’d figure out a way for us to be together. If you wanted me.

Yours,

DAW

——————

“What the hell is up with this place?” Dean muttered, frowning at his pancake. “First I wake up with a bunch of flowers on my pillow, then they give me one fucking pancake? Do they hate me?”

Sam sighed, poking at his own eggs. “I don’t think they are that much, Dean. And you’re the one who said you fell in the bushes last night.”

“It looked like a garden vomited on my pillow, Sam.”

“It was two milkweeds.”

“I don’t know flowers.” Dean glared at his plate, grumbling Her name. “She’d know flowers.”

She’d look at the flowers, and go Dean, this is clearly the work of the flower-moth, a moth that vomits flowers on handsome men who love their girlfriends. And then he’d kiss Her.

Instead he was stuck with Sam hogging all the syrup for his sausages, and a waitress who kept staring at him.

“I’m tell you, Sammy, this place is strange-“

“It has a case, Dean. Of course it’s strange.”

“No, man, like- Weird-“

“That means the same as strange.”

Sam was going to get punched. “You know what I mean. Weird shit keeps happening-“

Dean scowled. “Shut up. Couldn’t get a therapist anyway, they’d think I was freakin’-“ He whistled, twirling his finger, and Sam shrugged.

“Sure. You go over the case, or do I have to-“

“Big hidden vamp nest.” Dean stabbed his fork into the pancake, and the syrup pooled like it was bleeding. “Talk to locals, see who knows what, gank all the sons of bitches the moment we catch wind of where they’re holed up. Look for a demon, too. Grab it if you see it. Laser tag rules.”

Sam frowned. “Laser tag?”

“First person to hit it gets the point.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Dean shrugged, and it sounded pretty simple. Vamps were easy enough, and someone was bound to snitch with the right pressure. And Bobby said the town had a demon problem. They’d run into one eventually.

Only they didn’t.

And this wasn’t easy at all.

These people were fucking crazy. Everyone kept blaming flooding season for the deaths, as if it wasn’t almost freakin’ Christmas. Dean went to the bathroom in the sheriff’s office, and opened to door only to trip over a pile of books. There wasn’t a single demon in sight, but whenever they interrogated someone about it, people reported smelling sulfur and seeing black eyes.

And all of the interrogations were going to make Dean pull out his eyes. But this one was a special kind of fucking insane. This one was going to make Dean have a goddamn seizure.

“You two look like lovely boys.” The old woman said, pulling out the third tray of chicken nuggets from the oven. “I mean, at first I thought, oh, how spooky, big FBI agents wavin’ around their guns and askin’ questions, but y’know.” She beamed at them. “First impressions are often wrong.”

Sam gave the woman a grimacing smile and Dean stared at his drink. It was a Shirley temple. Three cherries, with half the damn drink just pure grenadine.

If She was here, Dean would slide his over for Her to drink, in trade for one of Her chicken nuggets. Actually, She loved chicken nuggets, too. And these chicken nuggets were half ketchup, which She’d love even more.

Son of a bitch, he missed Her.

“Ma’am,” Sam said cautiously. “We heard that you found one of the bodies, a few weeks ago-“

“Oh, yes, but it’s just flooding season.”

Dean glanced up. “Y’know, we’ve heard that a few times. Flooding season happened every year?”

“Oh, yes.” The woman nodded with a vague wave of her hand. “Or months.”

Sam frowned. “That’s- Not how seasons work-“

“Oh, sure it is. Lollipop?”

Sam shook his head, but Dean leaned forward. She had root beer. And cream soda. And blue raspberry.

He took one of each, then a cherry one for himself.

Sam raised his brows, and Dean shrugged, shoving them in his pocket.

“How many people usually die?” He asked, unwrapping his lollipop. “During flooding season?”

“Oh, about a dozen.”

“A- Dozen?” He sat up, shooting Sam a what the fuck look, and Sam sighed.

“Ma’am, exactly how often does flooding season happen?”

“Whenever it pleases.” The woman sat across from them, pushing forward a huge bowl of purple ice cream. “Purple cow?”

Dean stared at her. Maybe it was a code. Christ, he was too tired for code.

“Blue chicken.”

“It’s the ice cream flavor, Dean.”

“Oh- Uh,” he gave the woman a tight grin, holding up his lollipop. “I’m good. Flooding season-“

“Sweetie, it ain’t nothin’ for you to worry about.” The woman sighed. “Every once and a while you FBI boys get interested in it, then you give up when you see the bodies washing up the river. Nothing for y’all to worry about. Not that you could understand.”

Sam sat up, and Dean had heard it too. “That we could understand?”

The woman nodded, humming as she set the ice cream off by a third, empty seat.

A seat with chicken nuggets, and a Shirley temple, and a bunch of blue raspberry lollipops on the placemat.

Dean frowned, raising his hand to cut off any of Sam’s further words. “Can I ask you something, ma’am?”

“Course. Ain’t that what you’re here for?”

“Yeah, uh- Who’s that plate for?”

Dean pointed to the empty chair, and the woman sighed.

“Ah- Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweetheart.” She rose up, moving back into her tiny kitchen. “Y’all want some mac and cheese?”

“Yes-“

“No.” Sam cut Dean off with a glare. “Ma’am, we would really like to know about the plate-“

“I told ya’, it ain’t anything you’re gonna understand-“

“We’re open minded.” Dean jumped in, giving her a winning smile. “Promise. The occult? My partner here is into that magic stuff it in like, that way,” he winked, and Sam could glare at him all he fucking wanted, Dean was past giving a shit. “And my girlfriend loves weird things, we got paintings of Death on the fridge at home.”

The woman raised her brows. “Really. So-“ She looked back and forth like someone might be watching, then shook her head. “No. I shouldn’t say.”

“Ma’am, we need you to tell us-“

“Aliens.” She whispered, and they both blinked. “They been comin’ around, for a few days. I always thought this town was somethin’ special, and I knew it. Aliens been tellin’ me that their goddess was here, and they’ve been helping me get ready.”

Sam just stared at her, and Dean cleared his throat.

“So… Aliens told you their goddess would want purple ice cream and chicken nuggets.”

The woman nodded eagerly, and Dean gave her an awkward smile.

“They say what kind of music she likes?”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “But shoulda been askin’. Good idea, boy, I’ll tell them about you, agent-“

“Perry.” Dean turned to Sam, giving him a firm look. “Can I talk to you?”

Sam nodded, and they were barely a step out of the house before Dean whirled around, glowering at Sam.

“I fuckin’ told you, there’s something weird going on here-“

“One crazy woman doesn’t mean weird, Dean.” Sam sighed, pulling out his phone. “We’ve got a few more interviews, try and see if we can figure out this flooding season thing-“

“Aliens, Sammy.” Dean shouted. “We just gonna ignore aliens-“

“Yep. We don’t hunt aliens. They’re not real.”

“But-“

“I know you think something is up, dude. But until we get proof, it’s still a vampire case. C’mon.”

Dean scowled as Samy stared back to the car, and couldn’t stop himself from muttering Her name under his breath. “She thinks aliens are real.”

If Sam heard him, he didn’t acknowledge it. But Dean was right. Strange fucking shit was up, in this town. Everyone kept doubling down on the flooding season thing, and when they looked at old records, that was the cause of death for nearly a hundred people in the past eight years. They didn’t get another old lady talking about aliens, but Dean noticed shit. The drawings of oceans and night skies on the pavement with chalk. The people looking up at the sky, and doing fancy, colorful makeup that makes them look like birds of paradise. He passed a stoop, and there was a knife taped to the door.

And a knife on the sink, when he went to the bathroom.

He needed to stop trying to shit. It kept making weird things happens.

Sam hadn’t been wrong about the vampire case. All the old auto spy files about the flooding season victims were dead ringers for vamps, but there had to be more. People didn’t just start worshiping alien goddess out of nowhere, in a town where people died all the goddamn time.

“We haven’t seen a single demon,” Dean muttered over the library table, and Sam sighed.

“What am I supposed to do about that, Dean.”

“I don’t know, I’m just saying it’s-“

“Don’t say strange.”

“It is strange! First we got this flooding season shit, then no demons-“

“No demons is good-“

“Not when a town is supposed to be drowning in them.” Dean hissed, leaning forward. “That means they’re hiding, Sam, that something bigger is happening-“

“Like aliens?” Sam’s tone was bored and mocking, and Dean scowled.

“Yeah, Sam. Maybe.”

“Aliens that eat purple cow ice cream and Shirley temples.”

“I’m not a freakin’ alien expert-“

“You need to sleep, Dean.” Sam sighed, flipping a page. “You sound insane.”

Of course he sounded insane. Their job was insanity, that wasn’t Dean’s fucking fault. They’d spent the whole day making no damn progress on anything, and Dean might be tired, but he mostly wanted to get this over with, and find a demon. He’d only taken this case for a demon, and now there weren’t any to be found.

Maybe demons were the ones fucking with him. Dean wasn’t sure why the hell they’d target him over Sam—or why they seemed to know the exact things that would making something thing to the right of heart strain—but they were. He was walking down the sidewalk, and almost tripped over a bunch of crayons. He went for a bottle of whiskey, only for it to turn into a pina colada. The fucking fireflies kept dancing all around him—he wasn’t even that drunk this time—and when he started the walk back to the motel, he was pretty sure that whatever part of his brain hadn’t gone banana’s when She and Sammy fell in was finally slipping.

The whole town had smelling like Her apples, all day. He hadn’t even been able to look at the lady hitting on him, because it made him feel sick. It was as if Her ghost—presence, if he thought ghost he thought dead, gone, never in his arms again, and then he had to run to the bathroom to vomit, then find a sugary peppermint resting on the doorknob—was wrapped over this entire town.

And on the wind, coming from somewhere in the swamps, he could hear it.

It wasn’t the birdsong, from yesterday.

It was a voice he knew. That vibrated in his chest and made his head feel light. That something deeper than his bones and blood seemed to recognize, even though Dean had never actually heard it before.

But he knew it.

More than anything, Dean knew it.

——————

Dec. 20th - 2010

Princess,

I got you some lollipops. Cream soda, root beer, and blue raspberry. When you get back, you can have them.

You gotta come back. Just for this case, sweetheart. You’d love this case, you’d be bouncing off the damn walls. It’s got aliens, chicken nuggets, mac and cheese and free street knives. Like it was designed for you.

I guess everything was designed for you. That’s the Bride of God thing. You’re the universe, and I’m just some asshole you watch TV with.

Guess I always knew that. I know that you don’t want to be the Bride, but I can’t see how this life is any better. I’m not saying I want you to go, I’m saying you deserve better. Better than what any of us have ever been able to give you. Better than your family, or me, or Dad.

I don’t know if I ever apologized to you, about Dad. What he did to you. If I didn’t, I’m sorry, baby. I told you, that’s never been what you deserved. And I’m never gonna be able to make up for the shit he did, for what I did when he told me, but I need you to know that I’d choose you. If I could go back and do it all again, I’d never leave you. I’d stay until the morning, ask you on a proper date, then give you whatever life you wanted.

I don’t care if that ends with God coming for you anyway. Least I got you for a while.

Any amount of time with you is more than I could ask for.

I love you. I think it’s driving me insane, how much I love you. Sam thinks so. And Bobby seems to think you feel some of it back, but I don’t think he understands what this is like. It doesn’t feel like normal love, Princess. It sorta feels like I knew it forever, even when I’ve been pissed at you. Like is so fucking deep in my body I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.

I don’t know if you feel it like that. But Bobby told me a couple days ago that you’d be broken up about it, if I died. I hope that’s not true. You’re worth a whole lot more than my sorry life, baby girl.

Yours,

DAW

——————

He couldn’t sleep.

The singing wouldn’t stop. All fucking night it carried through the windows, dragging Dean up from any rest, soothing him and driving him out of his mind all at once. Sam got about around 4am, and it was still going.

“You been hearing that?” He grumbled into his pillow, and Sam let out a loud, dramatic sigh.

“Hear what, Dean.”

“The freakin’ singing.”

“The- Do you have headphones on?”

“Do I look like I have headphones on, bitch?”

“Well, there’s no singing-“

“No, there’s-“ Dean let out a long, heavy breath. “Never mind.”

It was gone by the time the sun was up. And then they had to get back on the case. The vampire and demon free vampire and demon case, with an extra side of aliens, in a city that wouldn’t just let Dean goddamn rest.

“They found another body last night,” Sam said over breakfast, and Dean grunted. “We should go to the coroner’s office, check it out.”

“Thought we knew it was vamps.” Dean muttered. One pancake again. He was going to drive off a cliff. “What’s the fuckin’ point.”

“Conformation.” Sam shrugged. “I’d bet on vampires, but maybe it’s something new like vampires. We have to cover all our bases before we go in swinging, Dean, you know that.”

He grumbled an agreement, his gaze wandering aimlessly over Sam’s shoulder. There were two little girls, sharing a milkshake that looked pretty goddamn good. If She was here, Dean would buy Her a milkshake. Then She’d tell him that she could buy it herself, both of us are using stolen money, Winchester, and Dean would convince Her that it was actually pretty fucking important that Dean but the milkshake. It was about chivalry.

And in his fake dream world, She’d give in with a giggle, and he’d get to wrap his arm over Her shoulder. Kiss the top of Her head, then watch her drink with a big innocent expression, adorably unaware of how Dean was watching Her lips wrap around the straw, thinking of all the things he was going to do to Her when they got back to the motel.

She’d makes Dean drink some of it. And he’d get little bit of whipped cream on his nose—on purpose, but She wouldn’t be able to prove that—so She’d kiss it off. Then it wouldn’t matter what Dean had been planning, because he’d kiss Her fully, She’d climb into his lap, and by the time people were coughing and staring at them making out in the booth, Dean wouldn’t be able to wait for the motel. He’d just bring Her right to the backseat of the Impala, find a shady corner to park, and bury his face between Her thighs-

“Dean.” Sam waved in front of his face, snapping Dean out of the daydream. “Stop thinking about her and focus.”

“I wasn’t-“

“You make the same face, whenever you think about her.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “The hell I do-“

“Yeah, you do. It’s better than Her Dean face, though. C’mon.”

“Her-“

Sam stood up, and Dean’s words died in his throat.

Right where Sam’s massive fucking head had been blocking, was a huge Indiana Jones poster.

And Dean would be all the stolen money on his credit card that it hadn’t been there the days before.

Sam wasn’t interested in any of Dean’s theories, though. He hadn’t heard the singing, couldn’t smell Her apple, didn’t seem to notice how this whole town was drenched in Her.

“Maybe we should go back to the Alien lady.” Dean muttered, staring blankly at the vic’s body. “See what the alien goddess thing is about.”

“No. That would be a waste of time.” Sam turned the vic’s neck, and gave Dean a smug look. “See?”

He angled the neck for Dean to see, and he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I never said it wasn’t a vamp. I just- Something’s up, Sam-“

“Yeah, vampires.” Sam dropped the neck, picking up the arm with a frown. “The bodies are bloated, though. And they’re always found in the river. Maybe the vamps dump them, after feeding fresh-“

“Sure. We haven’t seen a single demon-“

“Maybe there never were demons. Bobby can be wrong sometimes.”

Dean scowled. Bobby could be wrong. But usually when Bobby was wrong, they had Her there to say what was right. And that was always on cases with weird fucking shit.

“Let’s check upstream.” Sam said, grabbing his jacket off a chair. “See if we can find the nest-“

“Sam.” Dean grunted, grabbing his arm. “Look, I know you don’t have feelings right now, or whatever, but you gotta at least admit something’s up here. That this isn’t a normal case.”

Sam nose wrinkled slightly, but he let out a long sigh, and nodded. “Yeah, it’s strange. But we know there are vamps, Dean. And if we gank them and still see some weird shit, then we can start thinking about- Aliens.”

Dean nodded slowly, opening his mouth to make some sort of point about the demons—three things in one town was kind of a lot, so maybe there was a bigger root problem that needed to be dealt with—that was cut off by a knock on the door.

The coroner—a round faced, smiling man—waved at them from the window, and Dean sighed, pulling the door open.

“Hey, boys!” The coroner breamed between them, and Dean had never met anyone who was happier to be working with dead bodies. “You find what you needed? Anythin’ else I can do to help?”

“No.” Sam said, giving the coroner a close-lipped smile. “We got it. Thank you for your assistance.”

“Hey, anything for the big timers, right?” The coroner laughed. “The FBI bein’ this interested in our little town-“

“Yep. Well, we should head out-“

“I mean, three feds, lookin’ at my dead bodies? This is the best week of my life.”

Dean froze, his body going rigid, and he didn’t have to look at Sam to know he’d done the same.

“Your dead bodies?” Sam asked, and Dean scowled.

“And,” he shot Sam a glare. “Three agents? I don’t know if you’re seeing double, buddy, but there’s only two of us-“

“Well, there’s you guys, and the lady.”

Sam frowned. “The lady?”

“Yep. Scary looking gal, real looker. Started walkin’ around my office like she owned it, talked like a book had a baby with a pirate.”

Dread started to twist in Dean’s gut. Dread and something worse. Something with soft light that could be fucking hope. “Her eyes.” He muttered, gesturing to his own face. “Were they- What’d they look like?”

“Huh.” The coroner tilted his head. “Kinda sparkly. Like stars.”

Son of a bitch.

He didn’t wait for Sam, before stomping out of the office. He couldn’t goddamn breathe, or see anything but blurred color, and it felt like he was having a freaking heart attack, with the strain to the right of his heart. She couldn’t be here. Dean would fucking know if She was here. She was still in the cage, because he couldn’t get her out, but that meant-

“Dean.” Sam called, jogging after him. “Slow down-“

“I’m not gonna fucking slow down,” Dean sneered, whirling around. “I told you, Sam, something crazy is happening in this town. Someone is messing with me, making me- I can-“

Sam braced his hands on his hips as Dean took a deep, unsteady breath. “Dude, I know that sounded like her, but-“

“No.” Dean snapped. “You don’t get it, I can smell her and hear her, and- She loves chicken nuggets, Sam. She loves chicken nuggets, and candy, and Indiana Jones, and- Son of a bitch, she loves that purple cow ice cream, I remember her giving Cas some- And the bar has been playing all her favorite songs and she loves flowers and- Christ, Sam, I think I’m gonna open the shower tonight a find a kitten in the bathtub-“

“Dean-“

“Someone is fucking with me, Sam. Someone is trying to drive me insane-“

“Dean-“

“And I’m gonna- I’ll fucking kill them-“

“Dean!” Sam shouted. “I think you’re right.”

Dean blinked. “You do?”

“Yep. It’s-“ Sam sighed, keeping his gaze firmly locked on Dean’s. “Don’t look. But there’s a child watching us.”

“A-“ Dean turned, Sam groaned, and there was a child watching them. Not in the way children watched adults fight, but with a strange sort of intent.

The moment her eyes locked with Dean’s, she took off down the street.

Dean sighed. “Are we chasing a child.”

Sam shrugged. “Guess we have to.”

They took off after her. Down the street—fast fucking kid—and around the block, before she turned into an alley-

Something slammed over Dean’s head, drove into his gut, and the world went black.

Stayed black, for a little while.

Dean’s head fucking hurt again, when he could think. The low groan that left him wasn’t dignified, either.

But they had bigger problems to deal with.

The room was pretty dark. Windowless, with a soft carpet Dean’s face had be dropped against. Everything goddamn hurt, and between the throbbing in his skull, ache in his jaw, and sticky, wet feeling in his gut, someone had beaten the shit out of him. His hands were tied behind his back, and when he glanced over, Sam was in the exact same position, with a gash on his arm and black eye blooming on his face.

His eyes slowly started to adjust, as he forced through the pain and pushed himself up on his knees. The whole room was full of fancy shit. Polished wooden tables and plush chairs, with the stupid, cream and red design you’d see in a grandmother’s house. There were paintings on the walls, and crystal glasses filled with something red, and a man.

One man, bald and bored looking, sitting on the largest chair with one leg over the other. Watching Sam and Dean try to get their bearings with vague amusement, swirling the red stuff in his own glass.

Blood.

“Sam.” Dean groaned, scrunching his nose as another pain stabbed through his skull. “Think we found the vamp nest.”

Sam glared at him, and the man chuckled.

“You are Dean, I presume?” He hummed, his voice smooth and dry. “Which makes the big one Sam.”

Dean smirked at him. His gun was gone. Best bet was getting the evil plan, then finding a way out. “So you heard of us?”

The man sighed. “Every Alpha has heard of the Winchesters. At this point, every monster has heard of the Winchesters. I’ve always heard you travelled in a herd of three...” The man raised his brows, and Dean tensed. “But I guess the brains couldn’t grace us with her presence, being trapped in the cage.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, and Sam cleared his throat. “Alpha?”

“Yes, Sam Winchester.” The man sighed. “Alpha. You’re a smart boy, I’m sure you can work out what that means.”

Sam blinked. “Alpha is the first letter of the greek alphabet. So, uh-“

“He’s the first vampire.” Dean grunted, eyes narrowing. “Or he’s saying he is.”

The man—Alpha Vampire—gave Dean an amused look. “Interesting. Not just the beauty, are you, Dean.”

Sam frowned. “He’s right?”

“Oh, yes.” The Alpha hummed. “I am indeed the first vampire. The father of the greatest race my mother ever created-“

“Mother?”

“Yes, Dean. Mother. We all come from somewhere, just as my children came from me. And you two have killed many of them-“

“Sorry, Dracula.” Dean shrugged, and the move split his spine. “They were killing people-“

“They were eating food.” The Alpha snapped. “Just like a hunter, to speak of things they don’t understand. I was hoping to speak to the Magdalene-“

“You know about Magdalenes?” Sam cut in, and the Alpha sighed.

“Of course I know about Magdalenes. I have met several, in my life. But you have the Magdalene.” The Alpha laughed to himself. “Had the Magdalene.”

Dean’s fists curled, and even that movement hurt. “Listen, Count Chocula, you better shut your goddamn mouth-“

“Or what, Dean.” The Alpha drawled. “You are not at the advantage here. And I would not go making threats when I am already very displeased with your presence in my town.” He leaned forward, glaring between Sam and Dean. “I have spent almost two hundred years in Cadillac without disturbances. Do you have any idea how long it takes to convince a town that flooding season is a genuine reason for people to die en masse?” He sighed, lips curling. “Very long. And it was all going just swimmingly, then suddenly there are demons and fairies, and it is all the Winchester’s fault.”

“Demons?”

“Fairies?”

The Alpha sighed. “Yes, Sam. Fairies. They are rare, in our world, which makes the fact that about three dozen of them have been running around my town all week all the more annoying. And-“

“Uh, can we go back to the demon thing.” Dean said over the Alpha, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Cause we’ve been here a few days, and I haven’t seen a single demon-“

“And we’ve never heard of fairies.” Sam added. “We’re here to hunt vampires.”

The Alpha gave Sam an amused look. “And is that supposed to help your case?”

“No.” Sam shrugged. “But demons and fairies aren’t us.”

Dean really wanted to circle back to demons—they hadn’t even fucking seen one—but they also had to get out of this alive. So it could go on the back burner for now.”

“Sam’s right.” He said, throwing the Alpha another grin. “You’ve got the wrong guys, buddy. Sucks.”

The Alpha scowled. “You cannot trick me, Dean Winchester. I know it is you. My people have been on lockdown, since they arrived, and none of them are foolish enough to deal with a hoard of demons in this political climate. Not when the new boy-king of Hell is trying to make me open the door to Purgatory-“

“Purgatory?” Sam cut in, the room was sort of spinning as the Alpha sighed.

“Yes, Sam. Purgatory. Even our souls deserve a place to rest, when vermin like you bite.”

“But why would Crowley care about that, he’s the King of Hell-“

“I have not been asking him,” the Alpha sneered. “While he’s been trying to kidnap me. And as I was trying to say, demons are unruly, but fairies? They can be controlled.”

“That’s great, dude.” Dean grunted, straining slightly at the ropes around his ankles. They were fucking tight, and every movement send a new wave of pain through his body. “The hell do you want-“

“I want you to listen.” The Alpha snapped. “You claim you are not behind any of this, but I know otherwise.”

Sam frowned. “We’ve been here three days, we couldn’t-“

Sam cut himself off as one of the curtains moved, revealing the little girl that had been watching them on the street. Dark hair and big eyes, a blank expression as She stood so goddamn still Dean didn’t know if she was breathing or not.

“This is Ella.” The Alpha hummed, standing to place a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “She’s a young good fairy, bound to my service.”

“She a kid.” Dean hissed, and the Alpha laughed.

“Do not act like you wouldn’t hunt her if she was only a few years old, Dean. And she has been quite helpful, telling me exactly what’s going on.”

Sam gave Dean a tense look, Dean swallowed, and something seemed to bang outside.

“Ella,” the Alpha drawled. “Tell me why you’re here.”

The girl pointed.

To Dean.

“Dean?” Sam said, and Dean was confused as well, but the tone wasn’t fuckin’ needed. “That can’t be why she’s here-“

“I assure you, fairies cannot lie-“

“But they’re here for their goddess.” Sam snapped, and Dean felt kinda heavy

“Those were the aliens, Sammy-“

“Fairies that woman probably thought we aliens, Dean.” Sam gave the Alpha a glare. “It can’t be Dean. He’s not a goddess. Or a god. He’s just a guy.”

Dean scowled, and the Alpha tilted his head.

“What about the fairies cannot lie do you not understand-“

“The part where you think they’re here for Dean.”

Sam held the Alpha’s glare, Her apple smell was getting stronger, and Dean was starting to feel sort of lightheaded. Might be the blood loss, or just the fairy doing something to him, but-

“If you’re planning on do somethin’ to me.” He muttered, and the Alpha frowned at him. “Can it happen now, before I bleed all over your fancy freakin’ carpets?”

“The injuries won’t kill you,” the Alpha, snapped and Dean groaned, shaking his head.

He was going to bleed out in fucking Cadillac. The one thing Bobby had told him not to do was die, and he couldn’t even fucking manage that. And Sam was saying his name, but it didn’t sound all that worried, and if he went maybe he could be a part of that flooding season thing.

And Her apple smell was consuming him. Maybe he was already falling into hell.

Maybe She’d meet him there. All the way down.

He could already hear a lot of shouting, but it didn’t sound like hell shouting. That was more just screams of pain. There was a muffled urgency to this shouting, and Alpha was frowning somewhere over Dean’s head, and the ringing in his ears got louder.

“I may have to cut our audience short-“

“Father-“ A tall, broad man slammed open the doors of the fancy room panting heavily, and the Alpha frowned.

Dean’s knees felt weak, just keeping him upright. Everything fucking smelled like apples.

“Jonas, what-“

“It’s- Fuck, it’s-“ The man shook his head frantically, and the Alpha took a long step forward.

“Jonas, speak plainly-“

“It’s her!” Jonas screamed, and the Alpha flinched back. “It’s the girl-“

Jonas’ word died in a gurgle of blood, his throat slit clean open with a bubbling wound that spread, before his head fell clean from his shoulders.

And Dean must be dying. Or just already dead.

Because Jonas fell to the floor, and standing right behind him was Her.

She was fucking here. Out of the cage and right in front of him, the light from the hallway seeming to cast around Her like She was something ethereal from the night sky, come down to guide Dean home. All the color in the world growing vibrant, and the air in every ragged breath cleaner. Wind seemed to be blowing through Her shining hair, making Her look even more like a goddess from above heaven. But Her skin looked soft. Touchable. And She was still wearing Her usual jacket and dress, spinning Her blade in her hands, as she frowned down at Jonas.

“You know.” She drawled, nudging his body with her foot. “I’ve wanted to be the girl.”

She still sounded like a siren. It was the only noise in the world that wasn’t far away anymore, the only thing Dean could hear at all.

“Magdalene.” The Alpha hissed, and She looked up with a sweet smile.

“Hi. Do you like my trick? I-“

Her words died, and She was looking at Dean.

Right at him, with bright eyes.

He didn’t even know if this was real, but She was looking at him, and he couldn’t stop himself from groaning Her name.

If She was here because he was dying, it could only go faster. The sooner the pain ended, the sooner he’d be able to hold Her.

“Dean- Dean-“ She took a stumbling step forward, and the Alpha was faster. Dean felt himself be yanked up be the neck, another low sound of pain escaping his throat.

He probably didn’t look very heroic. If She was just another hallucination, it wouldn’t matter, but just in case She somehow wasn’t, Dean tried to puff out his chest and look like he wasn’t dying. It only made the Alpha’s sharp nails sink a little further into his neck, and another low groan leave his body. Somewhere in his periphery, Sam started to move, then let out a sharp grunt as the Alpha kicked his gut.

“The rumors are all true, it seems.” The Alpha said, voice mocking. “The Magdalene has a soft spot for the angel’s toys.”

She was frozen in doorway. Dean could see Her grip on the knife tightening, shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

She was freaking out. Dean needed to get to Her and touch Her—to make this all better—but he didn’t even know if he’d be able to, or he’d just fall right through the air.

“I’ve heard rumors that you’re particularly fond of this one.” The Alpha squeezed Dean’s neck, and his vision started to dance with spots.

She took another staggering step forward, Her voice far softer than only a moment before. “Don’t-“

Something sharp was starting to poke at Dean’s throat. “Another step, and he dies.”

Her eyes were locked onto Dean’s, and they were the only bright thing left in the world. Glossy and desperate, and he didn’t understand. He’d be fine. Once he was gone, he’d be able to touch Her again.

“No- Dean-“

“Knife down, darling.” The Alpha hummed, and she raised Her hands, shaking her head desperately.

“I- I can’t- Please, don’t-“

The Alpha roared, and nothing split open Dean’s throat, and the world didn’t go dark. All the pressure was released, and he fell onto the ground, flat on his back.

He could swear, through the fog clouding his head, he could see the little fairy girl wrapped around the Alpha’s head, clawing and chewing at his skin. But they fell out of his view, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was dead. There was too much pain for it, but he also couldn’t really feel his own body, and people were shouting around him, but he couldn’t make out the words.

He was being dragged. Across the ground, then hauled up into the air. When his head turned, he was pressed against something that smelled so fucking good. Then there was a harsh light that made him groan, then he was somewhere softer, a rumbling below him. Smaller arms were pulling him up, and he slumped forward against a warm body that fit his so perfectly. Familiar, gentle hands were grabbing his face, but he couldn’t control his own body, and he slumped down forward. There was a beautiful voice, calling his name, and it sounded so sad. When a tension released from Dean’s wrists, his arms moved to hold the source of it—the warm body—as he tried to mutter soothing words, but they just came out like nothing.

“Dean,” She whispered, prying him away from Her neck. “Dean, I need you to stay awake, no-“

She sounded like She was crying, and he couldn’t let that happen, either. Dean mumbled Her name—the word a little clearer than all the others—but She still wouldn’t let him fall down.

“I- Fuck- Don’t move-“ A hand pressed to his chest and he covered it, trying to keep Her there.

It worked.

Dean was touching Her.

He might still be dying, though. He could see that light people were always talking about, as he forced his vision to focus. Forced himself to see Her.

She looked so sad. Almost broken, with Her hair stuck to Her brow and Her eyes darting between his face, and Her hand on his chest. Her brow was wrinkled, and there were bags under Her eyes, and She’d never looked more beautiful because She was here. Real, and touching Dean in a way he could feel as more than a phantom shiver.

And Dean could touch Her.

It was slipping so fast. The word was getting sharper, and the pain was easing, but now he just felt so tired. He had to touch Her, though, before exhaustion pulled him under. He had to, just so he knew this wouldn’t have to become another nightmare where She slipped through his fingers.

Dean grabbed Her face between his hands, and She stared at him. Wide eyed and pretty. Flushing slightly.

Real.

“Hey, Princess.” He tried to sound collected and charming, but his mouth was swelling, and the world was still spinning. “You look pretty.”

His brow dropped to Her shoulder, the exhaustion settling into his bones. But he grinned, as it washed over his body.

Because he could hear Her.

Saying his name.

Home.

This wasn’t one of those dreams.

It was like he was back underwater, reaching up to try and get to the surface, his hand scraping over the waves but never breaching the surface. He couldn’t breathe, or see, or even roar Her name, to make sure she was still there.

But then it was different.

Suddenly the water was warm, and the world started to glow with light.

He was swimming. Drifting even further down.

But it didn’t hurt anymore. And when he blinked around, there was something bright and silver and beautiful, like a star fallen right into the ocean, watching over him in the dark.

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Anything?” There was a light pressure on Dean’s chest, and it went still. “Not even- Anything?”

“That’s what I said.”

It started moving again. “Well, where did you wake up?”

“Cas said Kansas. You didn’t?”

“No. I didn’t.”

There was a lot of light, here. Behind Dean’s eyes, softer than the light when he’d been dragged around earlier. This was also a softer surface, and everything still smelled like apples, but there wasn’t a ringing in his ears, or more than a stinging pain in his chest that his body was too tired to fight.

He’d been injured. The pain was stitches, because he’d gotten the shit beat out of him. And most of what he could remember was a blur, but there had been the Alpha, the fairies, and-

Her.

She was here. Home. This was probably Her hotel, because there wasn’t any rattling of the heater. It was Her and Sam talking, and Her hands on Dean’s chest. She’d tensed, because Sam didn’t remember the cage, and they’d been in there together.

But they were both out. Dean hadn’t died, She was real.

“Are you going to tell me-“

“Jerusalem.” Her words were short. Tight. Dean wanted to curve over Her, until She relaxed, but he couldn’t really find enough strength to move. And selfishly, he just wanted to keep Her hands on his chest.

“Huh. Alright.” Sam paused. “Why were you hunting alone?"

“I was looking for you guys.”

Lie. That was a lie. Dean didn’t know why, but that was a freaking lie, and he was too fucking tired to understand it.

“What the hell happened, back there?”

“I don’t know.” She murmured. “The- Fairy?”

“Yep.”

“The fairy,” She sighed. “Attacked, and I didn’t pause to take an audit. I- I had to-“

Her words died off, and Dean fought his shiver as Her fingers trailed up his chest.

Sam cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go call Bobby. Give him the rundown. Vampires, fairies, demons-“

“Demons?”

“Bobby said there were demons, and Dean was looking for one, to help Cas with find what Crowley’s after or some shit. But we didn’t see any.”

“Oh.” She hummed, and there was something strange to Her tone Dean was too tired to place. “Okay. Tell Bobby we’re a star up and three over, he’ll know what it means.”

Something scraped on the floor, the wood of the floor creaked, and a door slammed.

She was still touching Dean.

It lingered, every time She brushed over Dean’s skin. Like a brand he didn’t want to heal from, or something hot sinking under his muscles and taking root in his gut. He’d never try and remove it.

He never wanted Her to be gone again.

When She finished the stitches, there was rush of panic through his body. She’d stop touching him, and he didn’t want Her to. He shouldn’t have played passed out, now he couldn’t tell Her to stay without freaking Her out. He couldn’t even pretend to grab Her wrist in his sleep, She hated that-

She didn’t move away. Light fingers ghosted over the wound, a soft sound came from somewhere above him, and his hand was pulled into Her’s. He felt Her touch his fingers so delicately, tracing over every callous and line, before they were tangled together, and Dean’s hand was set back down as the mattress dipped.

She was lying next to him. Holding his hand, even though She didn’t know he was awake.

Like She couldn’t bear to leave either.

Fuck it.

Slowly enough that She could stop him if She wanted, Dean pulled Her into his chest. He heard Her breath hitch slightly, but She was still relaxed in his arms, right until She was almost curled over him, free hand resting on his chest.

When he opened his eyes, She was there. Right next to him, blinking up at him with wide, slightly puffy eyes. Her lips were swollen from chewing, that little wrinkle between Her brows. Dean held Her gaze as he moved his arm over Her head, and around Her shoulders, swallowing the grunt the movement caused and reaching around to rub his thumb down Her nose.

Her eyes fluttered, slightly, and he couldn’t stop his small grin.

“Morning.”

Her throat bobbed, voice perfectly soft. “It’s 1pm.”

“Brunch time.”

“That’s just lunch, De-“

“Brunch is a feeling, Princess.”

“You’ve never even had brunch-“

“I ate eggs with you at 2, that one time.”

“That was 2am.”

“Yeah, and it felt like brunch.”

Her lips twitched as She sniffed, turning Her face into Dean shoulder, and he chuckled. It hurt.

He didn’t care.

“Hey, Princess.”

She hummed, not moving, and Dean sighed.

“Sam’s soul is blocked, by the way. That’s why he’s being such a dick.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“He tell you?”

“No.”

“Then how-“

“Demon.” She mumbled, still not moving. “In Iraq.”

Dean frowned into the air. Iraq. That was halfway across the freaking world, not just a few days to South Carolina. And Sam was right, She had been hunting alone. Lying about why.

Not wearing the clothes She’d fallen in with, like Sammy had been.

And suddenly his throat hurt again. She wouldn’t be so calm, if She’d just gotten out of the cage. She might not have been a shattered mess like Sammy, but She wouldn’t be spinning Her blade and carving through vampires. She’d be too tired, from being dead.

He had to ask.

Even when he didn’t really want the answer.

“You’ve been out-“

“Since September.” She whispered, and Dean felt the ache from his chest move to the pit of his stomach.

Three months.

Three fucking months.

“Why.” He grunted, unable to think of anything else to say.

She pushed up on Her palms, looking at him with a pleading expression. “I- I had to.”

She didn’t say more. And looking at Her, Dean couldn’t bring himself to push for it.

She looked so fucking tired. All the lines of Her face were sharper, Her eyes holding new strange depth to them that he couldn’t name. As if She’d seen all the stars in the sky, been blinded by them, and done something horrible to keep seeing.

To keep looking at Dean.

But it still fucking hurt. And he couldn’t stop the bitterness of his tone.

“Bobby know?” He muttered, holding Her palm over his chest because he loved Her, and if She turned into mist above him, he might snap in half. “That you’re back?”

“Yeah.” She sighed, scanning over Dean’s face. “I- I just got back a few days ago. I lost my phone, his number is the only one I know. And he- He told me you were here.”

Truth. That was the truth.

And She looked so fucking sad.

“So you came,” Dean muttered, and She nodded. A small, nervous movement, Her whole body tensed above Dean’s. Like She expected him to shove Her away.

And it was boiling in the cavity of his chest. She ran again, when She swore she wouldn’t.

But she was here now. Looking at Dean like he was the most important thing in the world. Like he could possibly hurt something as vital as Her. And he doesn’t want to break Her. Touchable. In Dean’s hands, with one still covering Her’s and the other on Her waist.

He knew that, the longer he sat in it, the pit was only going to split further open.

But She was filling it with light.

And right now, he’d been in the dark too long to care.

“I missed you.” He said, his voice barely a rasp, and something flashed over Her features.

“I missed you, too.”

She squeezed his hand three times, with the words.

Okay. Everything’s okay.

It wasn’t. He wasn’t even that angry with Her. It just hurt. It goddamn hurt, that She hadn’t come back. Maybe She’d known what he was doing, while She was gone, and decided She wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe he’d been insane to think She’d ever want to crawl back to him at all, when he was still from the mud.

But She’d saved him. And he could see it, haunted in Her eyes. All those stars behind Her gaze, crashing back down to Earth to only look at Dean. Look at him like She loved him. And maybe She did, but Dean couldn’t have that be a burden. An obligation. Something that made this all worse, to be loved by something as low as Dean.

So he would be better. Do better. Figure out where he went wrong, and never be something She ran from again.

She was still looking at him. And he was out of words to say it. How he’d missed Her, and how he loved Her, and how fucking sorry he was for all of it.

But when he reached up to cup Her face, She leaned into the touch, and Dean knew. He was bad at saying it. He’d fuck it up.

He’d just have to show it.

She stared at Dean, as he guided Her down, but melted into him all the same.

Pressed Her lips against Dean’s, as his hand glided up Her back, and made a soft, blissful sound as he kissed Her with a little more than he’d ever had before. Then She kissed him back—wrapping Her legs carefully around his torso and crashing so deep into him he couldn’t really think past Her apple on his tongue and warmth in his arms—and it was like breathing.

Simple and natural and thoughtless. The most crucial thing, to move his lips against Her’s and press his tongue between Her lips. To keep holding Her as she made a high, sweet sound and ran Her fingers through his hair.

She was still fragile in his arms. Dean still felt the weight of the whole year, hanging over their heads. But it wouldn’t matter, as long as he got to hold Her and kiss Her like this. Like he’d been made to do it, with his mouth slotted perfectly against Her’s and every sound Dean pulled from Her like music. He was still Her shadow, and not time would wipe him away.

He’d love Her in the dark, as long as She kept being light.

And it wasn’t something She could stop being. She just was. Even with Her body shivering under Dean’s touch—his hand dipping under Her shirt to skim up Her back, Her neck being angled by his careful hand—and way Her nails dug into his shoulders, She was still light.

Her light had never been pure white enough for it to just stop shining. It was made with a little bit of darkness. Made of silver.

So She’d last.

And Dean would stay Her shadow, nipping at Her lips as they drew back for ragged breaths, until She left him in the dark.

“Don’t leave.” She whispered against his lips. “I- I’m sorry, Dean, I’m sorry-“

“I know.” He murmured, bumping their noses. “I know, Princess-“

A sob shook Her body, and Dean could taste the salt of Her tears. “I’m sorry, please don’t leave me-“

“Hey.” He ran his thumb down Her nose, and those pretty lashes fluttered. “I’m not leaving, sweetheart. Just- Don’t run again.” His voice was hoarse. “Please.”

“Oh- Okay.”

She said it like it was simple. Hooked Her pinky with Dean’s and silently swore to it, as if it was nothing. And when She spoke, Her words sounded like a plea.

“All the way down?”

He leaned back to look at Her, and there it was again. That look.

And Dean had tried being mad at Her. Tried hating Her, as well.

It never worked in his favor.

And She always came back.

“Yeah, Princess.” He squeezed Her hand three times, giving Her a small—but so painfully fucking real—grin. “All the way down.”

End Note: I'm sorry for edging you guys, thank you for trusting.

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