#what's really blowing me is dean thought this weak shit was a good argument and some of you fr believed him

[hudbannonarchive]

i'm sorry the fact that this is one of sam's worst transgressions to some people is laughable to me. dean comes in red hot with some manipulative non-starter completely detached from reality bullshit thinking he's about to blow anything else sam has to say out of the water, and sam says (in this entirely hypothetical scenario) he would not steal dean's right to die in peace on his own terms and SOME OF YOU take this to mean he's a selfish child who only cares about himself or whatever. you should be taken out back and shot.

[kurottsukii]

Nine | Enemies

Dean’s POV:

I sat back in the locker room, watching Randy and Sethy boy bicker back and forth like a god damn sitcom. This reminded me of that one Spanish telenovela that is so damn dramatic. Let’s just replace the women with these two men and you’d probably have to end up walking into a mental institution yourself at the rate they were arguing. The argument seemed to land on the new girl for some reason.

It was her first day and yet she was the talk of the town around here, everyone hated her ass. Especially my good brother Roman, who really didn't appreciate that low blow she gave him but I for one, fucking enjoyed it. Guess, he couldn’t digest losing to a girl after all.

I didn't really understand what the big deal was, to me, she wasn't all that special. But sooner rather than later, she's going to be just another locker room slut, passed down to everyone before quitting. But that's just me, I guess.

Soon, Randy and Seth's petty bickering turned into a full blown argument, and even I enjoyed chaos and the back stage fights, I rather not be here when the police shows up and start arresting the most guilty looking, which is somehow also me so I decided to leave.

While leaving Roman to tend to the screaming children to deal with them, I smirked to myself at the peace and quiet in the hallway. Usually, it'll be filled with little crew members and superstars leaving and going places but I guess, everyone decided to leave early.

As I was walking down the halls, the sight of the new girl and CM Punk standing by the catering area caught my eye. Now usually, I'm not a nosey type but to see the two so touchy touchy and having a hushed argument with each other not only intrigued my curiosity but it proves my statement earlier. Who knew out of every superstar, she fucks a previous drug addict.

Why not a dip shit like.... I don't know Dolph Ziggler?

...wink...

I leaned against the wall, paying close attention on how the two reacted to each other. Even though I couldn't hear much, I heard enough. More than enough to completely understand the dynamics of whatever the hell this was truly about.

"Can you stop treating me like some fucking orphan child in need of your help, Phil? I know what I'm doing and frankly what I did caused us a win. It's not my fault you wanted to be a overbearing ass and John wanted to be a greedy bastard. And I thought I was egotistical." She spoke with sarcasm in her voice that came off bitter sweet.

I can definitely tell ol’ Phil boy was hurt. This girl definitely got some balls to her, which makes her dangerous to Randy and a pain in the ass for me and the boys. But ...Phil could be a weakness to her.

I watched as instead of Phil firing back with insults and the same bass in his tone she used on him, he replied with gentle touches and a soft spoken voice which made her calm down easily. It was honestly aggravating to watch. I don't understand it, shit I don't even like it.

How does she know him? How is she the talk for everyone, how is she the "biggest thing to happen in WWE" and most importantly why does it have to be a bitch like her? Couldn’t it have been another girl? For all I knew, I couldn’t stand her. But, it was weird. Why did I still want her even though I couldn’t tolerate the pure existence of her?

Maybe I will never understood, shit, I can't even understand my feelings for the girl. I mean I dislike her, I know that for sure but in the ring, I felt something. Something a taken gut ain't supposed to feel. This feels so wrong but at the same time, it felt right to be thinking about her. How could I hate her when she’s been dominating my thoughts ever since she won the match?

She has this fire to her that's... attractive I guess, but everything else? I can't stand. She makes me wanna strangle her pretty lil neck. She's more annoying than the rookie diva like Sasha Banks or whatever her name is.

Anyways, the conversation seemed to continue and I was about to leave because the whole interaction between them made me want to throw up but once I heard my name. I decided to stay for a little bit. Maybe it was getting interesting. Just a tad bit.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel that way, it's just after Dean hit you, I wanted nothing more than to protect you out there. The shield are a brutal group, especially that lunatic Dean. I see how dirty they play and it's not good. I don't know what I'll do, if you got really hurt out there."

I watched as he tried to make a move on the poor shameless doll but she was hesitant. She was clearly falling for the "worried hero CM Punk vibe" but yet she wasn't in his arms like most girls will be. I don't know why, but I was proud of the girl.

Maybe she ain't a wannabe slut after all. Eventually the conversation bored me, so I decided to leave. It eventually died down and I didn’t see myself staying for longer. I don't know how long I was walking but it felt like a fucking eternity. As I walked further down the dim lit hallway, I spotted my girlfriend talking to the Bella twins.

Bre noticed me at first but chose not to say anything, instead she continued to listen into whatever conversation they were having as I sneaked up behind Renee.

"Yeah, and that girl was brutal in the ring. Can you believe she's Chyna's niece? Like THE Chyna? She looks nothing like her and isn't Chyna like, white?" Nikki asked ever so seriously, with a smile on her face like she did something with that dumbass remark. I mentally face palmed myself on how fucking stupid she sounded.

I swear all that plastic in her breast went to her damn head. Out of all the girls here, why is Renee’s friends with them?

"That sounds a bit racist, Nikki. Just because the aunt is white doesn't mean the father could be. Like Yovanna is clearly mixed. Like how you guys are but you guys have a lighter complexion and she's more tan." Once again, I mentally face palmed myself at Renee's comeback. I get she's trying to help but she sounded just as stupid and racist. And to think I had this exact conversation with Seth earlier. And even that sounded dumber than these girls combined.

People are so worried about the girl's race and background instead of her skills. If I was her, I would be foaming. As I see it, she could beat every superstar and diva in NXT. Maybe not here, but definitely NXT where all the rookies are at.

Not wanting to risk losing anymore braincells with this conversation, I decided to end this shit show myself. "Well hello ladies." I said, wrapping an arm around Renee's neck which startled her but she replied with a kiss to my arm. God she's cute.

"So what y'all ladies talking about?" I asked, acting like I wasn't just standing here, torturing myself while listening in. I just wanted to see if they would lie or not.

"We were actually talking about the new girl. She was on fire out there, it's not everyday you see a diva kick a guy's ass in the ring. It's like attitude area all over again."

Bullshit, if this was a cartoon, your pants would be on fire or some dumb shit. They were making up lies which clearly showed through everything right now.

"We were thinking that having her would put the women's division on top." Renee lied her pretty little ass off, I may be a little stupid but I'm sure damn ain't blind. Stevie Wonder could see that these chicks did not like the new girl one bit.

"That and how she treated my man out there, she was being greedy out there. She barely let anyone get tagged in and won with a cheap shot." Nikki commented as both Renee and Bre shamelessly nodded in agreement. I just shrugged it off, daring not to say anything.

Did I agree with her statement? No. From someone who's been in this gig for so long, as I see it, her teammates were only there to make sure the poor little girl wasn't embarrassed on her first day. Did she really need them out there? Against Randy, no. But against us? Most definitely.

"Speaking of the new girl, here she is now with my boyfriend and...the Irish dude." We all looked towards the direction Nikki was pointing at, the trio was walking towards us, but this time she looked all lovely dovey with Sheamus with how close they were. Maybe I was wrong after all about her.

I watched as Nikki called the three over, immediately, like a dog on a leash, John went to her side. But Sheamus and Vonna seemed hesitant, not that I would blame that. Nikki may be a dumb, selfish bimbo but the girl was very damn intimidating. "Don't be shy, I don't bite." She said in that fake nice girl tone.

I watched as Yovanna walked towards us but stayed by Sheamus. A small part of me hope she didn't notice me with Renee and the other part kind of wanted her to. But she did and as she did, it wasn't a glance but a stare. It was like she was studying me, putting two and two together about me and Renee. And from what I saw, it felt like she didn't really approve of my relationship.

Renee then moved herself from my grip and instead wrapped her arms around myself, I copied her actions, giving her a quick kiss on the head as I watched Yovanna purposely ignoring my presence.

"So, Yovanna is it? Can I call you Anna?"

She didn't even give her a chance to answer, she just continued to flap those big lips of hers.

"I'm sure you already met the guys but I'm Nikki, that's my sister Bre and that's Renee, Dean's girlfriend. And just to give you a heads up, John here is my man. And Daniel is Bre's."

"No need to inform me who's taken, I'm not really looking for a intimate relationship with my coworkers." Vonna, said in a low tone. Her eyes going to mine when she said the last part.

Nikki scoffed in reply before getting all up and personal with Yovanna, which was a bad idea from the start. But who am I to know. I watched Yovanna's face remained nothing but emotionless as she let Nikki get in her face.

"Well it seemed like you were already too comfortable with my boyfriend. Rookie mistake, I know. I'm just being nice here and just giving you a warning. You don't wanna be known as the slut on your first week do you?" Nikki had this tone in her voice that only mean girls used to bully scared little girls. But yet again Yovanna reframed herself from slapping the fuck out of Nikki, I know I would.

She didn't seem irritated or scared or anything. Instead, she wore a smile and I don't know why but it irritated me and not just me but Nikki too. What does she have to be happy about? Why is she letting Nikki dog her out but she wanted to scratch out both Phil's and John's eyes for trying to take her spotlight. I don't get it.

"Look, I'm not here to play mean girls with you. This is workplace, not highschool. And I guess thanks for the advice but if you didn't hear me before I said I'm not looking for a relationship with my coworkers." She stated coldy but yet that smile stayed.

You could tell it bothered the twins, as Yovanna was about to leave, Nikki reached over to grab her which was a wrong move again. Why? Because before a finger even touch her shoulder, Yovanna gripped her arm and twisted it behind Nikki's back, having her screaming like a banshee for a good minute before leaving.

I had to hide my enjoyment from that, I mean even though I don't technically like the girl. What she did to Nikki was bad ass.

Yovanna's Pov:

I turned my back on the girls and left with Sheamus following, once we turned the corner that's when my mood switched. I don't want to panic because I never panic but did I just dig my own grave with that attack? I mean, it's her fault for trying to put her hands on me, if we're not in the ring don't touch me or I'll take that as a personal attack. Fuckin common sense!

But now I think I lost a ally. I know John barely liked me because of my ring attitude but now he definitely doesn't like me.

Should I apologize and beg for their forgiveness or just pray that they don't use Phil like a practice dummy to hurt me. Even though I cared for Phil deeply, I was kinda leaning on the second option. I'm not one to break my pride and get on my knees for nobody, and I won't start now. I just gotta pray those slimy bastards don't hurt him.

And can you believe the nerve of those bitches to get in my face and disrespect me? Like if I didn't care for my career, all of them would be in body bags right now. I know they're veterans but none of them had the right to threaten me or make me feel uncomfortable in my own skin all because that disfigured barbie felt threatened towards me like haven't you heard to blame the boyfriend and not the girl?

Apparently not since she has his dick so far down her throat to even listen or maybe it's the plastic from her boobs traveling up to her head, destroying brain cells as we speak. Whatever it is, it didn't have to go as far as it went. Now I got the authority, randy, the shield, the barbies, and G.I Joe to worry about.

Way to fucking go, Yovanna. You just made several enemies on your first day on the job, what fun. And I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible.

It's already bad enough Phil is basically my babysitter, and I got more enemies than friends but now the only true friend I have is no where to be found meanwhile the other one just stood there and let me dig my own grave. What a great friend you are Shaemus, again, I meant that in a sarcastic way.

He wasn't a great friend, in fact the the worst friend ever to be made in the planet. Like who stands there and watch their friend defend themselves against three people?! That's right! No one! Ever!

If the roles were reversed I would of shut the entire situation down with a few punches to the throat but not Shaemus! Instead he stood and watched and laugh, like it was a movie for him! Just wait till Phil hear about this.

Oh.

Oh my god, Phil is going to kill me once he hears about this.

How should I tell him? I could do it fast like ripping off a band aid or I can do it calm and pretend like I don't care, or I could just not tell him. Yeah, I like that option better, I won't tell him.

"You know we're going to have to tell Phil, Right?" Shaemus said, looking down at me as we walked through the halls. How the fuck did he know?! Did he just read my mind or does he want to see Phil kill me? Probably both, it's already too late to try to change Shaemus' mind anyway, we were already at Phil's Locker room.

I was the one to open the door, but definitely not the one to tell Phil shit, that was Shaemus' job.

As I peeked through the creak I made, I was greeted with Phil's shirtless presence, staring right back at me from the couch. "Vonna, what a surprise. What do I owe the pleasure?" He said with that good citizen smile, I replied back with a smile of my own as I removed myself from the door. "I'm not only though." I said as I made my way to the couch in a skipping form, Shaemus followed behind.

"Oh Shaemus, what a su-"

"I don't wanna hear it ya cheater." Shaemus cut Phil off by placing his finger directly in Phil's face as he wore a hurt expression on his face like he just caught his lover in bed with someone else. At this moment I couldn't tell if Shaemus was joking or him and phil had a secret relationship I didn't know about. Either way, it was hilarious for my end.

"Anyway, we have something to tell you." Shaemus said, his eyes on me as I slide further in the couch as if I could make my escape, although it was impossible but the subtle change of the environment when all eyes were on me, made me want to hide in my own skin.

Phil didn't even bother speaking, he just stared at me. His eyes burning into my skin as the room remain silent.

I did my best to not crack under the pressure but it was killing me so I spilled my guts. "FINE! I fucked up okay? I ended up making more people hate me with my big mouth but it wasn't my fault, alright!? I wasn't looking for a fight but this barbie like bitch called me over just to threaten and insult me so I retaliate. She touched me so I went into defense mode and almost broke her arm but again, her fault not mine, but I think John is now a enemy since I roughed up his girlfriend..." I confessed with my hands over my eyes, peeking between my finger like an child to see Phil's reaction. He held no emotion, there was no anger, no sadness, nothing. I honestly thought I was in the clear until:

"Could of been worse if you insulted Renee Young. That's Dean's girlfriend and the WWE's favorite journalist here. She friends with the whole Diva's locker room. If you insult her, you insulted them. But then again you insulted Nikki so half of the diva's locker room dislikes you.” He stated with no emotion in his tone nor face. I wasn't sure if he was disappointed or pissed, I couldn't tell.

Maybe it would've been better if he reacted, at least that'll put me at ease instead of whatever this is. I tried to look at Sheamus for a comfort and a solution but he just replied with a shrug. I was officially doomed with no solutions to my problems, way to go Yovanna. You broke Phil and now made everyone hate you on your first day.

"I could speak to her if you want to clear all this up. That's if you don't mind having all the girls here hate you." Phil spoke, this time his eyes were on mine.

I didn't really care if everyone hated me though, at least that's what I thought. I guess it's best to have more friends than enemies here, but I rather be their enemy than friend and kiss their ass.

"It's fine Phil, I can deal with it. Just stay on guard, I don't want the shield to hurt you because of my big mouth."

Phil's eyes searched mines before nodding in reply. I honestly didn't know what he was nodding for but I decided not to push forward.

Has anyone seen Eva?" I asked the boys only to get complete silence as an answer before Sheamus decided to grace me with his sweet voice. "I forgot to tell ya, she left a hour ago with a special British Diva. The last

time I saw them, they were sucking each other's faces."

I mentally cringed at the last part, Eva got a one night stand with a diva meanwhile I just made half of my coworkers want to kill me. What an awesome Monday?

[stusbunker]

BGDC: Stay Down

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini-series

Featuring: Female Hunter!Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Chuck and Jack

Written for: @supernatural-jackles​​ Tell Me A Story Bingo

Summary: Everything comes to a head. Can she do better this time? Is there anything worth salvaging? Chuck has his own thoughts.

Square filled: In Vino Veritas

Word Count: 2615

Warnings: THIS HURTS, Flashbacks in italics, canon-ish, verbal arguments, that pesky motherfucker HOPE, Chuck is still a dick.

Series Masterlist

Inherit the Earth con’t

    It had taken Sam two weeks to get out of Dean what happened, why she left. It was not his proudest moment, but the thought of her in their home made him sick. So, he had shown her the door. He thought he was her hero, he’d never imagined she’d treat him like a piece of meat.

    There were some lines that you shouldn’t cross and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to forgive her that.

The drive to Sam and Jack feels like an eternity, even ignoring all traffic laws. The day is bright, but the impala rumbles garishly, a black omen. The static hiss of unmanned radio stations gives her something to do. She diligently sorts the tapes, finds something to fill the void. 

Melody as white noise. A band aid on a bullet wound. Dean can’t fix what’s been broken. But she never even tried.

Sam cries at the sight of her. She runs into his arms and he squeezes until he can’t any longer. An ounce of redemption in the ocean of guilt. Sam glances over her head to his brother, he feels the other shoe drop.

“Where’s Cas?” Jack’s obvious question echoes the shame in the new arrivals’ eyes. She holds her breath as Dean explains, like she’s waiting for his story before she can move on. Like he didn’t tell her either.

Sam aches with what he’s allowed to happen. The old internal rage gnashing at his gut as he screams in an abandoned restaurant. They’re what was left behind. All they have left to do is give Chuck what he wants.

His ending, at last.

Dean didn’t tell her what he and Sam were doing. Didn’t need an outside opinion on this one. Instead he asked her to keep an eye on Jack, knowing she’d say yes. He guessed he wasn’t done asking for things. The sight of Chuck makes him see red. But this was it, he’d die with his brother beside him. For the world.

When Chuck blows off their offer, he can’t say that he’s surprised. Disgusted, angry, regretful maybe, but Dean’s not surprised. 

The house always wins.

They crash at a motel for the night, everyone gets their own rooms for a change. She knocks on his door just after midnight with a bottled peace offering and her ratty sleep clothes. Dean doesn’t need this right now, but he doesn’t have the energy to be cruel.

“Where’d you get this?” Dean holds the amber liquid up to the light to read the label.

“Liquor store down the street. Don’t even feel bad for taking the five finger discount anymore,” she sighs and drops on the spare bed. “You gonna tell me about your little side mission or do I just get to guess at the outcome?”

Dean cracks the bottle open and sighs. “Bupkis. So, nothing to tell, really.”

She’s watching him for signs of lies, at least she’s not overtly antagonistic with her appraisal.

He offers her the bottle and she shakes her head. ‘Maybe she learned her lesson,’ he thinks and then takes a long pull off the glass rim.

“So, the Empty, huh?” Dean grimaces as she closes her eyes, taken aback.

“What makes you think I want to talk about it?” Her faces pinches and he is just too fucking tired.

“Because you always want to talk about it. It was kind of a thing.” Dean shrugs.

“I came to check on you, dumbass,” she mutters. He sits on his bed, leaves the bottle between them on the nightstand.

He doesn’t stop the sour hum that claws up his throat. He was trying to play nice, but she just had to keep on being the tough guy. “Funny, didn’t think you cared much what happened to me anymore, or how I feel about things at least.”

She has the gall to look surprised, but underneath it he sees she’s almost as tired as he is. “I did not come here looking for a fight. If you’ve got something to say to me--- Maybe you should remember who called who. And who dropped everything to help.”

“And I don’t seem to remember you doing too much of that,” Dean snaps back, turning his head only.

She pauses and Dean feels a little smug that he’s getting to her. But not nearly as much as he should. He cocks his eyebrows, waiting for her obvious answer.

She shoves him back on his proverbial heels instead. “We both know you were just keeping tabs on me. There wasn’t anything for me to do. And then I became a fucking bargaining chip. So screw you, Dean. I’m not here for a performance review.”

“I think we already established, no one is screwing anyone here,” Dean mutters, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

“Is that what this is about?! You are honestly bringing that shit up now?!”

“So what if I am? Better than acting like it never happened. Playing the fucking martyr,” Dean bites back. “I, at least, own my shit. Maybe you should try it some time.”

“You kicked me out! What was I supposed to do, wait on a damn cross until you finished your case?!” She still doesn’t get it. Dean’s chest is writhing with all the things they never buried.

“It doesn’t matter. We were family. And you threw it all away,” Dean lays it out.

“ME?!”

“Yes, you!” Dean’s standing, hunching over her, unleashing. “You had to make it about your feelings and the crush you had on me when we were kids. Don’t you see? It was more than that. We WERE more than that. But you were lonely, or horny or needed to drown your feelings. And you cheapened everything. And now---- we can’t even have a real conversation.”

It’s like he’s looking at a completely different person. He doesn’t even know her anymore. 

“Dean, I---” He cuts her off, this was entirely pointless.

“Don’t, okay? Just--- leave it. I’m gonna get some air.” Dean starts towards the door and slumps, half turned he continues, “Look, I’m glad you didn’t get stuck in the Empty. But Cas did---- And to be clear, this wasn’t ever about rebuilding bridges, it was about stopping Chuck. And we couldn’t manage that.--- But we can’t just go back to the way things were just because we’re all that’s left. The sooner you understand that, the easier this will be--- for everybody.”

The heaviness of wasted effort sinks into his shoulders. Dean closes the door behind him with a gentle click. They both know she’ll be gone before he gets back.

No one left in the entire world and one of my oldest friends still doesn’t want me around. This wasn’t humble pie, it was a goddamn humility infused vat of pie filling. Not a spoon in sight.

Fuck him. Fucking pie metaphors even. Fucking brain.

I leave the damn whiskey, but I really want to throw it against the wall. Dump it in his boots. Bath in it. But I don’t. I give him his twenty paces and I duck out, bypass my room, Jack’s, and head back towards the liquor store. There was a pick-up I might be able to hot wire, if I remember where I saw it.

I mash my lips together to stop their quake, but everything keeps clawing its way up, centering itself in my way. I did this. The one person I needed to believe in me and I fucking ruined it. It was never about Amara, or Cas or him being too good for me. I just wanted what wasn’t there. 

The dirtiness slides down and clings to me, like a wet coat. An unwashable stain, that’s all my presence is anymore. I don’t want to be where I am unwanted, unneeded, unuseful. Well, useless really. But, I can’t lose Sam too. Not again and definitely not now. I stop when I spot the truck. 

Running isn’t going to mend what running severed.

Know better, do better.

I creep back to the motel and pretend to sleep. There are salt lines dried across my skin when Jack knocks on my door.

The sun still rises. Dean tosses his things in his bag, even the whiskey. Waste not want not. They’re heading home to regroup or to hide or just for something to do. He doesn’t care, but being out in the open feels like he’s leaving them open for an ambush, or Chuck’s prying eyes at the very least.

He knows they’re not safe from that anywhere. It just feels safer somehow.

Dean feels good in motion. Sam’s at his side, while she and Jack sit in their own quiet corners in the back. The looming reality of an empty planet unnoticeable on the backroads. Denial is a helluva drug.

So is hope. Good thing he kicked that one.

When they pull into the garage, he doesn’t even bother grabbing his duffel from the trunk. Dean bee lines for the hard stuff and no one even bats an eye.

Maybe he has always been that predictable. Maybe he no longer cares.

I’m sitting on my bed, flipping through an old photo album when Sam finds me. It’s been three days and the bunker just keeps getting hollower the longer we stay inside. It’s like Chuck is slowly strangling the oxygen from the air.

I’m pretty sure I’ll be the first one to break.

Dean’s too far into a pity party at the bottom of a bottle to be pushed off any one edge and Sam’s too good at keeping on. Of course, Jack is getting by on sheer purity of spirit.

“How you holding up?” Sam’s voice is scratchy, but familiar, I don’t know the last time we actually spoke. I don’t really make eye contact, but shrug all the same.

“You?” I ask, unnecessarily.

He sits down beside me, looking over my shoulder. He huffs out a laugh at one of the pictures.

“I can’t believe you managed to keep all of these,” Sam says as he reaches over and slides his finger tips over the poorly taped Polaroids.

“They were at Bobby’s for a while, but I dug them out of a storage unit after--- well, after I fucked things up with your brother. Figured they were all I had left after that.”

Sam inhales at my bluntness, cocks his head because it hurts to hear, but also doesn’t sit right. What a doof.

“Spit it out, Legs, I know you wanna say something,” I goad.

“I guess I don’t really--- what happened?” Sam’s eternal need to know things going for my weak spot. “I mean, Dean said you tried to put the moves on him, but I guess, why was it so horrible?”

“Well, I actually have some new information on that front,” I offer, turning to face him and placing the memories on the far side of the bed. 

Sam’s brows pitch. 

“Apparently, I--- cheapened everything. Dean thought whatever our relationship was, was more important than hooking up. And I made it all about me.”

“He said that?” Sam asks in a hush.

“Yup,” I huff out. “And a very firm, ‘there is no rebuilding bridges’,” I say in my best/worst Dean voice.

“Wow.” Sam looks to the ceiling then scratches the back of his head. He doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s okay, I mean, I did kiss him. I knew it was a bad idea, but I had psyched myself up that entire night, misread everything. I’ve never been the one guys willingly go home with. I shouldn’t have forced it.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve had---,” Sam breaks off when he thinks about my asshole ex.

“I’ve had a couple of real winners,” I finish for him. “But it’s okay. Because now we’re the last people on Earth. No one left to break my heart.”

I slap the edge of the mattress and lurch to my feet, ignoring the pain in Sam’s eyes. He just lost Eileen and here I am moping about something that happened over two years ago. Once a shitty friend, always a shitty friend.

“You can keep looking through that if you want. I’m gonna start dinner,” I add at the door.

Sam nods, but he doesn’t reach for the album. He just sits on my bed and chews the inside of his lips.

Jack’s feeling things and Sam’s looking at Dean with insistence, but Dean’s hungover-leeched brain is not putting things together.

“What?!” 

Sam grimaces, heavy on the bitch factor. “I think you should be the one to tell her we’ve got a lead. Meanwhile, I’ll start packing the car.”

“Great. Sure.” Dean does little to hide his disdain. Sam doesn’t budge.

He grunts through an explanation as she cleans her gun. Luckily, she doesn’t ask too many questions because the vibrations of his own voice are adding to the throbbing at the base of his skull. 

She slips him a bottle of painkillers before ducking into the back seat next to Jack. He doesn’t say thank you, but he knows she knows he’s grateful. They used to be able to do that, not as easily as he and Sam, but silent communication was possible, once.

He gets them on the road before noon, the familiar feel of the wheel in his hands steadies Dean until the pain starts to subside. The soft, yet urgent Jack-P-S guiding their way.

They stop for an inevitable pitstop and Dean gets hit with a pure dose of that damning hope. A white, shaggy dog is laying outside the men’s room and his face breaks into a smile for the first time in weeks. It’s the proof he needed aside from Jack’s fuzzy radar.

Chuck didn’t get everything.

He scoops the dog up and shows him off to Sam, forgetting entirely about his need to pee. He sets the sudden miracle in the backseat, promises there’ll be enough room for him.

That’s when Dean spots Chuck in the field, menacing and knowing. Dean straightens on instinct, facing the threat. As Chuck raises his hand to snap, a gushing voice rushes to Dean’s side.

“Oh, who’s a good boy?!” She doesn’t see their destructive creator waiting in the wings and Dean moves to shield her from Chuck’s gaze. 

It’s too late.

Suddenly Chuck is standing beside the impala’s trunk.

“Now, how exactly did I miss you?” Chuck gapes, the disbelief and rage shifting across his once amiable face.

She chokes on her breath, freezes on the spot. Dean sees the power trip flash in Chuck’s piercing blue gaze. He likes when people are fearful, he likes to see them squirm.

“She wasn’t here when you iced everybody, Chuck. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s still just us,” Dean reasons, downplaying her worth.

“Nah, I don’t like it. It’s supposed to be you and Sam. Jack, fine. He’s just a pet anyway. But her? You guys get over your crap and suddenly there’s a whole new generation of thorns in my side. Sorry,” Chuck huffs and snaps his fingers. She disappears faster than Dean could take it in. “Not sorry.”

“What the hell?!” Dean barks. Panic, rage, and overwhelming sadness shoot through him as he dives towards Chuck. But he’s gone before Dean can get there. Falling to the gravel, gracelessly, Dean spins on his knees to see if Sam or Jack are still alive and accounted for. He spots their silhouettes through the convenience store windows. With that little platitude, Dean staggers over to soothe the dog’s sudden whimper. And then it vanishes too.

Maybe Dean never made it out of Hell after all.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @peridottea91​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @flamencodiva​​ @akshi8278​​​ @dontshootmespence​​​ @smi727​​​ @ericaprice2008​​​ @crashdevlin​​​ @dolphincliffs​​​ @spnfamily-j2​​  

Read On: Free Will

[hey-its-cammy]

This is No Mistake

Teaser 

Title: This is No Mistake (Teaser)

Pairing: Dean x Reader (Eventually) 

Word count: 3019

Summary: Y/N always felt out of place. Like she didn’t belong in this life. In this universe. She felt like she belonged and had a purpose somewhere else. Of course she never knew where until something bad happened and led her to her destiny. To her purpose in life.  

Chapter trigger warnings: Mentions of suicide, shitty parents, mentions of depression, mentions of low self-esteem, blood, minor character death

A/N: So I just recently thought about this and it has been on my mind recently. Maybe I can turn it into a series maybe not. This is actually one of my longest things I've ever written, positive feedback is always welcome and constructive criticism is nice as long as you are, I am always trying to improve ;) Let me know what ya think!

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Your home life wasn’t all what you had hoped it would be, it wasn’t bad but you suppose it wasn’t good either. After years of being bossed around by your mother and all the verbal abuse from your family members, it seemed that life wasn’t turning out like you had hoped. You felt like the walls around you were your cage. How? You have always been told and kept reminding yourself that people had it worse than you, that you had it made. Your mother and father fought constantly while you grew up and still do. You remembered a time when you were younger and hoped they would make amends and it would be better, it never happened. The fighting only got worse as you grew and started to become more aware of the arguments. Pretty soon you couldn’t escape them, they always seemed to happen while you were around. You wondered if they were fighting about you, of course they were. What else would they be fighting about? It has always been you or money, past things that your mother brought up that didn’t matter now. 

Both of your parents were quite complex yet strangely simple. Your father was a toxic masculine man, tall and with dark features. He was loud when he got angry, you were constantly afraid of him hitting you but he never laid a finger on you somehow. He was simple. He liked cars, you would help him with them when you were little. He was a mechanic. Honestly they were some of your fondest memories. Even if he was constantly fighting with your mother or really verbal with the abuse he laid into you, he managed to be surprised when you seemed to magically have self-esteem issues. Honestly, heavens no. Not his child. 

He was an asshole but there were moments that he wasn’t, you held onto those for your dear life. Like the moments when you were little? The nice memories of the past. They tend to sadden you now that you are older, wishing you could return into that carefree state of mind. Growing up sucked. Bad. Even when you were younger you saw what it turned into. Both of your parents were unhappy with life. It never changed. Even if you liked your father more than your mother, you still always felt uncomfortable around him. You two rarely spoke and when you did it was a question or small talk.  

Now your mother? Ha, she was something different than your father who was actually quite laid back. No, your mother was an uptight bitch who constantly rode your ass like a pack mule. Throwing more emotional and mental issues on your back like a load, expecting you to just accept it and move on. With her it was always her way or the highway or so the saying goes, something like that. Even with small things like folding laundry, if you didn't do it her way then she would get pissed off and blame things on you that have no correlation what-so-ever. It was just sad.

You never felt like you deserved any of it. It never sat right with you. Well everything thinks their parents are shit but why you? Isn’t that what everyone thinks? 

You held onto the moments where things seemed to be so normal, family outings to the fair every year or walking around the mall. Sure there were still some bickering and banter between the two of them but nothing like the usual. It was nice, you didn’t feel like running away and hiding. Something you often did when you were at home, being in your room all day everyday until your only best friend invited you out with her. She was a nice getaway, a break from your family. Hell, when you were in your teens you’d spend weeks at a time at her house. Her parents were divorced but her mom was cool, she let you drink sometimes. You two still are best of friends, peas in a pod, creme and cookie of the oreo. 

Now Anna, your best friend since freshman year of highschool, she was a character. She was your twin flame, or so she called it. Frankly you never heard of the term before she used it and explained it to you one night, you two were at her step-dad’s house in the kitchen. You remembered it vividly. 

The blonde haired, blue eyed female was to your right while you stood at the end of the kitchen island, looking at the marbled surface. Y/E/C eyes casted down on the surface under your fingers. 

“That’s what i'm saying, we lived virtually the same lives but yet we are different in most aspects.” She said softly but with enthusiasm. 

“Hmm?” You zoned out for a moment while she went on a tangent, thinking about a place that isn’t here. You did it more often than you’d like to admit honestly. You rather be hunting with Sam and Dean. 

“Y/N, are you listening? Twin flames.” She waved a hand in front of your face to grab your attention. 

Your glossy gaze lifted and became clear to focus on your bff. “Huh?” You said again. Sad you didn’t get to finish your thoughts about your hunt in this other world. It all felt so vivid and real until you came falling back into reality. Shit blows. 

“Twin flames. That's what we are.” She repeated herself. Maybe she picked up on the blank stare you gave her but when it clicked, she explained. “It's like your twin but not.”

“Helpful.” You nodded sarcastically. 

“Y/N i'm serious! Think of tinkerbell and her sister.”

“Periwinkle.” You said before your mind even registered that you knew it, must have been the millions of times you have seen the movies. 

“Yes, they don't really look anything alike at all,” She motioned with her hands between the two of you. “They are completely different but work so well with each other like they were made for one another.”

“Like a soulmate?” 

“No, well sorta but no.” 

“Ya lost me.” You tilted your head and sent her a half smile. 

“Ugh nevermind. But you’re my twin flame.” 

Those were the good days, when you were around each other constantly. You were fluid and around each other so much that when you were out, people thought you were dating. Of course the two of you would laugh it off and give that person a run for their money on that bet or assumption. That's just how you two were. You were a tomboy and she was a lipstick, it fit. She wasn’t a lesbian, she was bisexual and so scared what you would think when she came out to you. Honestly you just laughed and said you liked boobs too, who doesn’t? They are squishy! 

She was great but you always felt like she was just using you for emotional stability sometimes. Of course that’s not a bad thing but like...constantly. You were the less emotional one and when you were, you struggled with showing them. You only cried when you were alone, it took you five years of close friendship with Anna for her to actually see you cry. Of course that just had to be when she needed you to be strong for the both of you. At least in your mind that's how it was supposed to be. She was talking about committing suicide that night and it stuck with you ever since. She grounded you when you were feeling numb. Made the dark days sunny again. She was all you had.

Weakness was never something you took kindly to at all. Probably what you got from your father, you never saw him cry. You were always told to shut up and stop being a baby when you cried, people mocked you constantly. When you were younger you were very emotional but you couldn't help it. You were young. So now that you were older, you never showed it to anyone.

Now here you were, alone in your room, sobbing. One of your patients had died on your table today, he was a nine year old mastiff and his heart was too weak to take a simple knee replacement surgery. You loved big dogs so it only made your heart heavier. You were a veterinary surgeon at a local animal hospital about two miles from your apartment complex. You had many jobs when you were younger; a waitress, bartender, maid, secretary for a human hospital and you of course volunteered at the career center to teach kids about cars when you were available. 

Teenage boys were exhausting and sometimes very sexist, thinking it was cool and would get brownie points with any girl to hit home base. That was only until Dakota showed up in your class. She was a whirlwind of hellfire and a demon in lipstick. She basically ran the small shop that you taught in and ran the boys right into the ground. 

With a flip of her apple scented hair, they would be on their knees kissing the ground she walked on. Quite empowering even for you to say the least. She looked up to you though, it was nice. You always had that motherly charm about you, always taking care for others and never yourself. It was slowly going to kill you, at least that was what Anna said. You still looked out for others though, even her so frankly how can you?

The dog though, that was hard. Having to tell the family for them to just blow up in your face and blame you for his death. That hurt worse. Low blow to yourself and sadly as these things happen, you spiral. You spiral so much until you are numb, empty and don't care about anything. 

You were broken from your thoughts when your phone rang, vibrating on the wooden table. Jesus what time was it? You knew it was late. When you picked up the phone the small clock read 2:34 AM. Who was calling you this late? None other than your bestie had the balls to call you when you should be sleeping. 

You wiped your eyes and cleared your voice, answering the call.

“Hey! Knew you'd be awake.” She said cheerfully on the other side of the line. 

You smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. “Hey,” it came out as a raspy whisper, you cleared your throat and tried again. “Hi. Well you know, never sleep much anyway.” Insomnia is a bitch. You thought and placed the phone between your ear and shoulder as you shifted. You took the phone and moved it to your other ear. 

“Well don’t get comfy, i'm on my way to pick you up, mom misses you and so do I.”

You sighed. “Does anyone in your house sleep?”

“You’re awake too.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone. 

“Right. Okay well give me some tim-”

“No need, I'm at your door.” 

You heard keys in your lock and sighed, hanging up the phone with a click. Anna walked in just as you walked out of your room in a plain grey shirt that went down to your mid thigh and boyshort underwear. 

“Sup bitch.” She greeted and you smiled, walking towards her. She hugged you and the two of you sat down on your couch in the living room. You talked about the usual ‘how's work, what have you been up to’ the same old same old small talk. It was nice to see her after a few weeks. 

She made herself comfortable on your couch while you got dressed. Going for your usual jeans, band tee and boots. Anna always thought you looked like a total badass and on some days, you felt like it. Tonight wasn't the night though. 

You threw your hair up into a messy ponytail to keep it out of your face and grabbed your things, heading out with your friend. 

“Mom is excited to see you.” She beamed. 

“I'm sure she is, haven't seen you two in a while. Not like I used to. Work has been busy.” You didn’t look at her, afraid she’d see through you.

“I don't believe that, i think you've just been busying yourself with work and using it as an excuse to not get out and socialize.” 

Of course without fail, she did. “I'm not.” You said sternly. 

“Yeah i'm sure. Y/N you need to get over him. It’s been five months.”

You held your tongue. Easy for you to say, you bat an eye at a man and they fall to your feet. You thought. People avoid me like the plague. 

“He cheated on you, you don't need to stress yourself over a man like him.”

“That is three years of my life down the drain Anna.” 

“I know it is, i just-” 

You cut her off. “You don't know. Your relationships never last longer than a few months at most.”

“Ouch.” Her face fell and she trained her eyes on the road. You turned your head to look at her and you could see tears prick her eyes. 

“Sorry. I just- people don't chase after me like they do you. I'm not that girl. I’ve never been that girl. I'm not as pre-” 

“I'd chase after you if I were a man. Hell, Y/N/N I’ve been gay for you for years!” You smiled now, the thick tension in the air fading. 

“Yeah well we both said that when we turn fifty and we aren't married, we are marrying each other.” You two always said this even after a year of being friends, it was hard for you to trust. 

Anna gave you a knowing look and smiled. “Still a promise, sexy bitch.”

You both laughed out loud and you turned up the music she was playing, a comfortability between the two of you. 

You dated Chace for three years, friends for four years before that. You couldn’t believe it when you caught him with your ex friend Maddie in your bed together. Well maybe you could, he did say once before when he was drunk that he liked her. You shrugged it off, trying to not let it get to you. Such an idiot for that. Either way it hurt, bad. Anna was there when you reached out to her, just to stay with her until you got back on your feet. Now you live in an apartment down the road from her and you couldn't feel more free. It was safe to say two were really close. You had never been so close with someone that they knew what you were thinking by your face. It was odd. You hid everything from your parents but with her? She saw right through you like you were made of clear glass. It was thick but you could still look in. One time she compared you to lion glass. It was the only thing keeping the lion away from ripping the people into shreds. Metaphor for your emotions.

Of course after spending time with Anna and her mother, you felt better. She had a habit of doing that, cheering you up. She was happy with her new boyfriend, you were happy for her. Better than her being so lonely all the time. 

Little did you know this would be the last time you got to see your best friend again. 

You woke up alongside her, your head pounding from the night of drinking. You two always shared a bed, a habit you picked up while you were young. 

You got up, your feet hitting the softness of the carpet until it felt warm and damp. Groaning you thought you just stepped in dog pee and stepped around it only to feel it again and again. “What the hell?” 

You flicked on the light only to be in horror of what was in front of you. Your eyes burned and you immediately felt sick to your stomach, running to the bathroom to throw up the contents. Your mind was just playing tricks on you, this can't be happening. What the actual hell. There were no such things as monsters or ghosts. Freaking Scooby-Doo taught you that the real monsters were people! This is like something out of the show Supernatural you thought to yourself. Gathering yourself up off the bathroom floor, taking a deep breath, a man kicked the door down. You screamed and everything faded to black. 

Supernatural. A show you were in love with. It held all the things you were so interested in, angels, demons, Heaven and Hell. All of it. Two very attractive men playing the lead roles of the characters. Sadly you never got to meet them after the show's ending, probably never will. You watched panels and things while you were at home. Wishing you were there to see them in person. Never once did you have the money to just leave to the state or country they were visiting and having a panel in. When they did come to your state, you were out of the country on a school trip. Life is just that way. 

So here you were, waking up in a dark musty room. The lamp on the bedside table seems to be your only light source right now, besides the light coming from under the door. Where the hell were you? It felt oddly familiar but you have never been here before. At least not to your waking knowledge. A light knock on the door made you jolt up, your head pounding as you sat up. Your hand came to hold it as a certain tall, long haired man entered. 

“Sorry about that, I didn't mean to make you fall, you hit your head on the floor pretty hard. You might have a concussion so take it slow.”

He was right, light hurt. Everything was hazy and slow. You rubbed your eyes and blinked a few times. The male started to come into view. “Jared?”

He looked at you puzzled.

“Sam?” 

[221castiel]

Day 8 - Heartless

we’re going to pretend this isn’t a day late, and that it doesn’t completely suck

Sam glanced around the small group he stood with, gaze darting from one boy to the next as they passed around a cigarette, there were only four of them in total it wouldn’t be long till it got to him. He probably should say no, Dean would kill him if he smelt even a trace of smoke on Sam’s clothing. He probably should say no but he didn’t think he could. Maybe the school bell would ring first, though as Sam glanced over his shoulder it seemed the school was perfectly content with sitting in silence.

“Sam?” He turned at the sound of his name, giving a small hum in response.

“Do you want to go get some food with us?” The one boy, Mathew asked. 

Sam’s lips parted as his gaze darted across Mathew’s pale hair, and dark hair, before he looked to the next boy, Jason, and then the next Christian. He finally looked back to Mathew, still unsure how to reply. “What about class?” Sam finally mustered

“It’s just history.”

That was true, Sam was doing well in history, really well, he could afford to miss one day. More importantly he couldn’t disappoint his new friends, it was hard enough being the new kid, again, Sam usually ended up talking with whatever other kid didn’t have friends, but this time. These boys were cool.

Besides, it was just one day. 

Finally Sam gave a nod of his head, receiving a smile from the other boys. They liked him, he had to keep them liking him.

It was just one day.

That was all Sam could tell himself as he followed his friends, through the school parking lot. He was doing really well in the class, that thought continued as they walked down the street, the group laughing at some dumb joke. John wouldn’t find out, Sam would make sure of that. 

Sam stopped the moment the other boys did, his gaze going from the cement sidewalk and to the bar they now stood in front of. The building was old, much like the rest of the small town, built from chipping wood, with a sign hanging from the roof that looked on the verge of falling. 

“Are you sure we’re allowed in?” Sam asked as Christian- maybe his name was Kameron, pushed open the front door. 

The other boys laugh, Sam’s gaze immediately darting across them. Shit he messed. “It’s okay,” Mathew said. He rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder, leading him into the bar. “My parents own the place.”

Sam didn’t make another argument, instead allowing himself to be led to a small booth at the front of the building. 

“Did you see Cassidy today?” Jason asked as they all took a seat in the booth, Sam facing the front door. It didn’t help though as every time he heard it creak his gaze immediately went there as if John would be the next one to walk through. He’d left a few days before, there was no way he’d already be back. 

“Yah,” Christine? Kameron? Maybe it was Patrick. Replied. “She looked hot.”

Sam’s gaze went back to his friends, specifically Jason. One of his ears were pierced the black stud clear against his blond hair, would Dean let him get one probably not. Dean would probably kill him for even thinking about it. 

“She’s a slut.” Mathew said 

Jason rolled his eyes, “in a hot way.” 

Mathew opened his mouth to reply, though before he could a loud crash came from behind Sam, followed by men’s laughter. The once easy look that had rested across the others face was gone, now replaced by a clear annoyance. “He’s back.”

“Who-” Sam began as he turned his head, eyes immediately landing on the pool table at the far end of the bar, and then to Dean who was sat on the floor laughing. Shit.

One of the men was helping Dean up, Dean stumbling slightly, as he did, a cue stick in hand. Shit. Shit. Shit. Was all Sam could think as he watched his brother make a terrible attempt at hitting the white ball, instead his stick went flying out to the right allowing the other man to take his turn and win.

Sam turned back to his friends not needing to watch to know what would happen next. He’d seen it a few times before, Dean would beg for a rematch, raise his bet, then kick the other’s ass in no more than five minutes. 

“I don’t know what he’s doing here.” Mathew continued as Sam looked back to the other, teeth chewing at his bottom lip

Shit. 

“Or how in hell he can afford the alcohol,” Jason mumbled. 

Sam’s gaze dropped to his lap. It was easier to stare at his fiddling thumbs, over his friends. Though even still it didn’t stop the unsease in his stomach, something that didn’t seem to leave no matter how many times Sam reassured himself. 

“Sam,” He looked up at the sound of his name, to Christian, no, was it Kaleb, it was definitely Kaleb. “you good?”

“Uh yah, that’s just-” Sam raised a hand, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s my brother.” 

All at once the boys’ expressions dropped, all eyes on Sam. Shit, he messed up, again. He was going to lose them, he could see it across their tense posture, the way their lips sat in a tight line, unsure what to say. He was going to lose them. He couldn’t lose them. 

“You guys are right, he’s a fuckin’ alcoholic.” Sam quickly said, though it did nothing to relive the tense atmosphere. “He should be using his money to buy some clothing that actually fit.” That was a low blow, and Sam knew it. Dean had clothing that fit, though after Sam had grown, Dean had given it all to him, and instead took some of their father’s old clothing for himself. 

It was a low blow, though it did get a small laugh, some ease to the table. 

The continued jabs at his brother soon fell with ease, the other boys laughing along, all eyes on Sam as he poked snide comments at his brother; his lack of relationships both romantically and platonically, clothing, appearance, dedication to their father. It worked well, Sam kept his friends, and Dean would never know. It worked well, until Mathew offered to get them some food, and asked Sam for help. 

Slowly Sam stood, his gaze immediately darting to the pool table, where his brother was nowhere to be found. He had to be somewhere, though no table, or bar stool was vacated by Dean, he must be in some corner, with a girl underneath him.

“You comin?” Sam looked back to Mathew, who had an eyebrow raised. He could only force a nod as he hesitantly followed his friend across the bar and towards the kitchen, his breath caught in his throat the whole time. Heart hammering. 

He didn’t relax until they’d reached the kitchen's entrance where they stopped, the doorway giving them a bit of privacy from the rest of the room. 

Mathew was barely a foot away from Sam, so close he could see the rise and fall of the other boy's chest, feel his intense stare as the other’s eyes stayed locked on Sam’s. Why they weren’t moving, Sam couldn’t be sure, though there was an electricity to the air that made him too scared to ask.

“Is it true?” Mathew asked, in such an eerily low voice, Sam couldn't help but take the smallest step back. “Your brother, is he a faggot?” 

Sam’s lips parted his eyes locked on Mathew’s unable to look anywhere else. He couldn’t move. He could barely breathe, the tight doorway squeezing out any air that had once filled his lungs. 

Sam closed his mouth, before his lips immediately parted once again, unsure how to reply. 

Dean and him rarely had actual fights, though when they did there were certain things Sam knew he couldn’t mention. Their mom. John’s abuse. Dean’s struggle at school. This was more than joking about Dean’s sex addiction, or poor appearance, or even his drinking habits. This felt like crossing a line Sam knew he shouldn’t.  

“What,” Sam finally mustered, voice weak and uncertain. 

“I heard my sister talking with her friend,” Mathew explained. “She said he wouldn’t sleep with her cause he’s a fag.”

Sam’s mouth opened again. He’d seen Mathew’s sister, tanned skin, curves, big breasted, wavy dark hair. She was definitely Dean’s type, though most girls were. “Uh-” Sam began his friend staring back with a raised eyebrow. Shit, Sam really needed to say something. “Yes?”

“Yah.” Sam repeated this time his voice steadier, more confident. Despite that his stomach still twisted, the distance feeling of guilt, that he was doing something wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t be bashing Dean so hard, but his friends bashed their siblings, he was just having fun. It was just for fun. 

Mathew’s gaze dropped down Sam, before once again meeting his eyes. “That explains a lot.”

“What?”

“The alcoholism, the no friends thing,” Sam could only dumbly nod along, as his friend listed back everything that Sam had told them about his brother. He couldn’t listen to it any longer, maybe he’d admitted too much about Dean. 

“It’s really weird,” Sam interrupted, mind buzzing. He didn't know what else to say. “The whole faggot thing.”    

Mathew nodded, “my dad thinks they should all die.”

Sam couldn’t find his voice to say that his dad thought the same thing.

There was a moment of awkward silence, Sam shifting slightly, glancing back to the booth they’d walked from, while Mathew stared back at him. “I’ll order us some drinks and food,” Mathew finally began, much to Sam’s relief, he didn’t know how much more of the silence he could take. “Then you can help me carry it back?”

“Sure.”

Once Mathew had walked into the kitchen, Sam’s gaze dropped to his boots trying to keep his thoughts distracted from the other things that pestered at the back of his mind. The guilt. The dread. The fabric of his shoes brought none of those things.

They were hand-me-downs from Dean, and it was obvious, with a hole forming on one boot, the laces now in strings, the soles falling apart, Dean had always been rough on his shoes. It bothered Sam he couldn’t have his own pair, ones he could keep nice, and clean.

From his right, over the low chatter of people, he could hear the sound of footsteps approaching, though his gaze stayed on his boots until an all to familiar voice spoke. 

“Sam,” he instantly looked up as his name was spat, heart stopping at the sight of Dean in front of him. Dean who was clearly furious. “Out.” His brother spat, voice so harsh Sam couldn’t find the words to reply. “Now.”

When Sam didn’t as much as move, Dean grabbed his wrist, dragging him out the bar, stopping once they’d gotten to the sidewalk.

Sam’s heart hadn’t calmened, though he couldn’t quite figure out what he should be most panicked about. Dean finding him skipping class, Dean finding him skipping class in a bar, Dean making a scene in said bar, Dean possibly hearing what Sam had said. Sam hoped, to any god there may be, Dean hadn’t heard        

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean spat looking down with a harsh glare, Sam only glaring back, though with Dean a few inches taller it didn’t exactly give the effect he’d hoped for. Fuckin’ Dean and his fuckin’ height. “You’re supposed to be in school, not at some bar.”

“I was trying to have some fun,” Sam defended.

That didn’t seem to calm Dean if anything he seemed even more annoyed, his jaw clenched, and eyes narrowed, a crease forming between his eyebrows. Sam’s own fists clenched. “You’re fifteen you should be at school.” 

“You dropped out at sixteen!” 

 “You’re supposed to be smarter than me.” Dean replied, his voice, though harsh, steady, something that only made Sam’s blood boil. Why did Dean have to be so controlling, Sam was fifteen he could make his own decisions.. 

“You’re right!” Sam snapped. “I am smarter then you so I should deserve a day with my friends.”

There was a second where Dean’s features faltered, where his angered expression dropped into pain? Hurt? Sam didn’t know, though it was gone just as fast as it had come, and soon Dean was once again glaring. “You’re right, have fun with your friends.” Dean said as he stepped back. “Don’t let this faggot stop you.”

Shit.

Shit. 

“Dean,” Sam began as the other turned away. “Wait!” 

He jogged to catch up with Dean, who had made no attempt to slow his pace. “Dean,” Sam continued, trying to get the other’s attention. He looked up to his brother, who’s gaze stayed forward. “It was just a joke, you know? I didn’t mean it.”

No reply, Dean’s jaw staying firmly clenched.

“Dean please.”

Again no reply.

That’s how it stayed for the rest of the walk to the motel, Dean looking forward, not speaking a word, while Sam had to practically jog next to him to keep up. Even once they’d reached the motel Dean’s silent treatment continued as he took a seat in front of the tv not moving until a few hours later. 

Dean finally stood walking in silence to the kitchen, Sam watching from the one motel bed. He’d spent the past hours anxiously glancing between his book and Dean. His stomach twisting the whole time, threatening to throw up whatever he’d eaten, keeping his muscles tense. He felt nothing short of sick. 

Utterly horrified.

Ridden with guilt. 

Slowly he placed his book on the bedside table before he followed Dean to the motel's small kitchen, taking a seat at the table. For a moment Sam only watched his brother grab a beer from the fridge, taking a sip as he got out a pot and the pasta.

“School was good,” Sam finally said, in an attempt to lighten the stif atmosphere, talk the way they always did when Dean made dinner. Dean would ask how school had gone. He’d tease Sam for being a nerd when he said good, and then ask what he’d learned about. Only to then tease Sam more.

Despite the teasing Sam was almost sure Dean enjoyed hearing about the things he'd learned. Always asking questions, urging Sam to further explain certain things, seeming just as interested as Sam himself. Of course he’d never suggest that to his brother, if Sam was right Dean wouldn’t admit it. 

“You went for an hour,” Dean mumbled. 

The harshness in Dean’s voice made Sam pause, his gaze glancing across his brother, though he could only see Dean’s back. John’s old leather jacket hung loosely around his thin frame. “I stayed for chemistry.” 

No reply. 

“We’re doing formula balancing,” He continued, “It’s kinda hard but I think I’ve figured it out.” Sam paused again. He hated the silence, the way it made the guilt weigh further on his chest, ringing through his head, every breath seeming too loud, every shift echoing, the wood of the seat he sat on creaking. It was uncomfortable, especially when Dean was usually so loud. “Maybe,” Sam began slowly, the uncertainty in his voice clear even to himself. “Maybe I could show you after dinner, I have a few worksheets in my bag that-”

Before Sam could continue Dean had turned around. He walked over to the table, Sam’s muscles tense as a bowl of pasta was placed in front of him.

Sam’s gaze stayed locked on his brother’s face. He hated how Dean’s features sat, emotionless, unreadable, lips pressed in a tight line, and jaw locked. His shoulders back in a stiff, perfect posture, a similar stance to when their dad was around. 

“Aren’t you eating with me?” Sam asked, when instead of sitting across from him Dean walked off to his duffle bag that sat on the pull couch where he was sleeping. 

“I’m goin’ to the bar.”

Sam took a shaken breath, his heart weighed down, still heavy with guilt. He wanted to make things better, though Dean was stubborn, and nothing Sam could say would change that. “Maybe when you get back we could watch a movie,” Sam suggested, “we could rent Star Trek, or something with cowboys!”

Dean didn’t reply, instead walking back to his duffle bag. 

“I said I was sorry.” Sam insisted. He couldn’t think of anything else but pleading for his brother’s forgiveness. “Dean,” Sam continued, his voice raising with each word, becoming more frantic, and shaken. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Sure,” Dean mumbled. Sam could feel the burning at his nose as his brother grabbed a handgun from his bag, placing it on the couches arm rest. “Don’t open the door for anyone, I have a key. If anything comes, shoot. You know where the holy water is. Salt the door when I leave.”

“Dean, please,” Sam pleaded. The guilt was weighing down, squeezing the air from his lungs, making every inch of his body burn, the fire licking through his veins, from his fingertips to his heart.

“Look Sammy,” Dean walked to the door, stopping just as he opened it. He turned back to Sam, their gaze meeting for the first time since they’d returned from the bar. “I get it, you have some fuckin’ reputation or some shit. Don’t let me ruin it on you.”

“Dean-” Before Sam could continue the Dean had stopped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.  

Sam had been left alone before, rarely, but he had been. It had never bothered him, until now. The whole room seeming to weigh in silence, still thick with the tension of him and Dean's argument, laced with guilt, dread, a mix of emotions that seemed to spiral. He didn’t know what to do, should he follow Dean.

What should he do, he tried apologizing.

Again.

And again.

And again.

If Dean didn’t want to talk he wouldn’t, hell even if he did want to he wouldn't.

The thought’s continued to spiral through Sam’s head as he ate his food, then finished his homework, then got ready for bed.

He didn’t sleep much that night, his stomach twisting as he layed in bed.

The silence weighing around him.

The loneliness of the room burning. 

What could he do to fix.

Beer?

Girls?

Food?

Pie.

~

It was seven in the morning sharp when Sam left the motel, walking the short distance to the small town's library, where he found a pie recipe. From there he made his way to the grocery store, buying the ingredients, before he went back to the motel.

“Okay,” Sam said to himself as he placed the ingredients onto the counter top, a large bag of flour, baking soda, apples, sugar, and anything else he could remember the recipe recommended. “Where should I start.”

He glanced across the counter, before his eyes landed on the stove, preheat the oven. Now how does he do that? It couldn’t be that hard he’d seen Dean do it over, and over, just twist one of the nobs, or did he press the buttons?

Sam pressed one of the stoves buttons getting a high pitched beep in response. After another button responded in the same way, Sam decided to instead twist each of the four knobs on.

“Now what,” He looked back to the ingredients he’d gotten, and the pot he’d taken out to use as a misshaped bowl. Maybe he should have written the recipe out. “Crust.” 

He moved the bag of flour onto the stove top, before opening the bag of sugar and baking powder. From there it became a guessing game, Sam pouring in the ingredients, attempting to get what he could remember from the recipe. A lot of flour, a dash of sugar, baking powder, more sugar, some vanilla, and more sugar. 

It wasn’t going bad, Sam was in fact proud of himself as he mixed the ingredients, a beige coloured dough beginning to form. Things were actually going well, that was until the bag of flour burst into flames.

“Shit!” Sam screamed, stumbling back from the eat.

He could hear nothing but the ringing in his ear, his eyes locked on the flames, feet staying firmly in place no matter how much of his body screamed for him to run. Shit. Shit. Shit.

His heart hammered in his chest, the heat practically burning his cheeks. Shit. He should move. Run. Do something other than stand petrified in fear. 

Shit.

“Sam!” 

He looked to his left just in time to see Dean step in front of him, and blow out the fire with an extinguisher. Despite the fire being out, Sam’s heart didn’t calm and it was obvious that Dean’s heart was the same, the panic clear across his face.

“Are you okay,” Dean almost demanded, eyes locked on Sam’s. 

Sam could only nod in response, voice lost. What was he supposed to say, he didn’t know, his mind still buzzing with adrenaline, with the moment the bag had burst into flames. 

“Are you sure?”

Sam gave another small nod. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. 

He could almost see the sigh that left Dean’s lips, as the other looked over his shoulder at the mess, the panic that had once controlled his features, now exhaustion, or maybe defeat. “It’s fine,” Dean replied, voice almost monotone. “Just go sit down while I clean this up.”

Without an argument Sam slowly made his way to the couch, staying silent as he took a seat on the old furniture. The panic he’d felt had died out, his heart that once raised, replaced by the twisting of his stomach that had become almost permanent since him and Dean’s fight at the bar.

Sam continued to sit in silence, as he watched Dean clean. Throwing away the now black bag of flour, cleaning off the counters, and then the floor. He didn’t acknowledge Sam the whole time. Sam didn’t blame him. He was in fact almost disappointed when Dean had finished, and walked over to him, so he stood in front of where Sam sat.

“Do you wanna tell me why you decided to light the kitchen on fuckin fire or why you aren’t at school again?” Dean asked, glare locked on Sam, though Sam himself quickly looked down, instead to his socked feet. They were mix matched, one a white, the other a black, with a hole next to his big toe. Neither were that interesting, though it was better than looking at Dean.

“I was trying to make pie,” Sam mumbled, keeping his gaze locked on his socks hole. 

“What?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam said in the same low mumble.

“Sam you’re goin’ ta have to speak up.

A shaken breath filled his lungs, before he finally looked up to Dean, vision hazy, his next breath stuck in his throat. “I was trying to make you a pie,” Sam finally replied, not caring to stop the way his voice shook. “To apologies for yesterday.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “That was a pie?”

“I was trying your hardest.”

“Well you’re hardest fuckin sucks.”

Sam couldn’t stop the smallest smile that spread across his own lips, his gaze dropping back to his feet, then going back to Dean. He knew he had to get the words out, though they seemed stuck, refusing to come no matter how hard he tried. “I’m-” He began barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I was being an ass.”

“Yah you’re right.” Dean agreed “you’re a fucking dumb ass, but lucky for you I’m still a little tipsy, and starving so how ‘bout we head down to the diner and grab some pie that wasn’t made by a snotty kid.”

“I'm not a kid.” Despite his defensive words, it felt good to have Dean teasing him, it felt normal, that's how it was supposed to be. Dean teased, Sam teased back, they didn’t fight, they were brother’s. 

“You’re fifteen, you aren’t exactly the definition of manhood.”

Sam rolled his eyes, though still grinned, taking Dean’s offered hand. He followed the other to the front door, his fingers playing with the sleeve of his sweater as he could still feel the unease in his stomach. It was something he didn’t think would be going away anytime soon.

“Dean-” Sam began just as the other had opened the door, stopping Dean in his tracks. “I really am sorry.”

“Dude,” Dean replied, an easy grin spreading across his face, though there was something about it that didn’t seem right. “It was yesterday, I'm over it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Bridge over water, or whatever that fuckin’ saying is.” Dean stepped out the door, nodding his head in the direction of the diner. “Now can we get some pie.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he should mention that it was in fact water under a bridge, not bridge over water.

The same way he wasn’t sure if he should mention the finger like bruising around Dean’s wrist that wasn’t there the day before.

Or the hickey that he’d seen just below the collar of Dean’s t-shirt.

Or the way Dean now had the slightest limp to is step, almost unnoticeable if Sam hadn’t been paying attention .

He wasn’t sure if he should mention any of it, so he didn’t, instead giving a small nod of his head. “Yah, let’s go.”

[samwinlover-blog]

Ignorance is Bliss

Pairing: Sam x Reader Characters: Sam, the reader, Dean, mention of random women  Warnings: angst, swearing, fighting, soulless!sam, steamy!sam Word count: 2324 Tag list: @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove@evyiione @mogaruke@aliensdeservebetter@27bmm@craving-cas @spnfanficpond​ @amanda-teaches  @myplaceofthingsilove  @spectaculicious@bambinovak @bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@padackles2010 @mamaredd123@milkymilky-cocopuff @iwantthedean@zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat @spntrista @d-s-winchester@just-another-busy-fangirl@winchesterprincessbride@waywardjoy@supernaturalyobsessed@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname@sandlee44@fangirl1802@kittenofdoomage @evyiione @winchestersmut@purgatoan@mogaruke @therewillbeblood @megansescape @taste-of-dean@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid  @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala@deathtonormalcy56@wildfirewinchester @notnaturalanahi@jensen-jarpad@impalaimagining@fangirlextraordinaire@itseverythingilike@jesspfly@lovekittykat21@mysteriouslyme81@mrswhozeewhatsis@aiaranradnay@supernatural-jackles@girl-next-door-writes@spnsasha@27bmm@spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@spectaculicious@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@spn-imagines-to-feel@spn-ficfanatic@cleverdame@saxxxology@jensen-jarpad @keepcalmandcarryondean dancingpanda137 Summary: the Reader copes with the loss of Sam’s soul, and the person it turned him into. 

Masterlist Here!

Ever since Sam lost his soul it had been rough. He was nothing compared to the person he was before, the one you’d loved so much. Soulless Sam was nothing but a cruel, heartless shell of a man. And you hated him. You hated the predatory way his eyes roamed up and down your torso, never stopping to look at your face. You hated how he breezed from woman to woman, never caring and never looking back. And, most of all, you hated those few seconds early in the morning when you forgot. You forgot he didn’t have a soul, and then- when you snapped out of it- the truth threatened to crush you. 

Dean had been coping a lot better than you had been. He just grumbled and stomached every blow and insult hurled at him by Sam, you wished you could react as he did. But you couldn’t, no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t just swallow it and move on; every single time you yelled back. And that lead to a lot of fighting. It had turned you into a miserable person. You’d spend your days dragging your feet, counting down the hours until you could go to sleep and forget for a few hours. But, even that, was usually taken away from you. Nightmares chased you awake almost every night, and most of those nightmares were about Sam. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about his soul, and about what it was enduring in the Cage. It was trapped in Hell, with only the Devil as company- the thought alone set your panic ablaze. Every night when you fell asleep you’d be greeted with the most gruesome imagines your mind could come up with, all including Lucifer and the Cage. You often found yourself waking up Dean and getting him to calm you down, which he always did without complaint. The two of you had grown very close over the past few months. You were dealing with it in your own way, but the thought of Sam haunted both of you.

The three of you were working a case just outside of Montgomery, Alabama, something was killing the eldest male in a few specific families- none of you knew why. Normally Sam would have marveled at the history of the town, chatting endlessly about the Montgomery bus boycotts or the New Deal, but he stayed quiet. That was what scared you the most, the quiet. When he wasn’t insulting, laughing at, or flirting, he didn’t give you the time of day. 

“It’s hot as hell,” Dean announced before rolling down the windows of the Impala. You were sandwiched between the two Winchesters in the front seat. That was how you always sat, because all three of you refused to sit in the back, but ever since Sam had lose his soul you found it unnerving to be close to him for so long. You shifted awkwardly in your seat, scooting as far away from him as you could get. 

“Yeah, and the police station doesn’t have air conditioning.” You gave a dry chuckle in return, the case truly was going to suck. 

“Yeah, lucky for you and Sam, you don’t have to go today.” 

“What? Why?” This was the first you were hearing of it. 

“The two of you are going to the motel to research, really only one of us needs to be at the station.” Dean responded, as if he’d just given you a gift. 

“W-what? I-I really don’t mind, it’s no problem, Dean.” You stuttered back, really not wanting to be alone with Sam for more than 5 minutes. 

But Dean gave you a look, which you read easily. He needed to be alone. So you shut your mouth and nodded, telling him it was okay. Dean coped with the whole Sam situation a lot differently than you did. Once or twice a week he would just disappear for a few hours, you had no idea where he went. But he’d always come back bruised and bleeding, so you assumed he was hunting something on the side. It wasn’t a surprise, really. Whenever Dean got too overwhelmed or couldn’t deal, he often hunted- just needing something, anything to relieve the stress. And you didn’t blame him. 

“Don’t look so disappointed, we’ll have fun, we always do.” Sam gave you a smirk and you knew exactly what he was implying. Dean went rigid in his seat.

“Fuck off, Sam” You growled back, shifting even further away from him. 

But Soulless had no shame, so he just rolled his eyes and gave you a condescending wink. 

“I call the table. We don’t have to talk, just do research.” You stated plainly as you walked into the motel room and grabbed your computer. You didn’t want to talk to Soulless, you hated him. You didn’t want to waste your breath on yet another fight over yet another stupid argument- it was all so pointless. But you knew, as soon as you said it, that he wouldn’t listen. You knew he would start shit and you knew he would enjoy it. 

“Oh come on, why don’t you want to talk to me?” Sam gave a small smirk in your direction before leaning back on his bed. 

“Just leave me alone.” You muttered, sitting down at the table facing the window and looking out. It was about two in the afternoon and you saw nothing but highways. Cars upon cars piled into mid afternoon traffic, creating a metallic haze of colors. You envied the people in those cars. They didn’t have to worry about hunting or sleep in the back of an Impala nearly every night. They didn’t have to constantly look over their shoulder and anticipate the next attack. They didn’t have to deal with seeing the man they loved every god damn day without a soul. They didn’t have to save everybody. 

“Okay, your call, babe.” Sam chuckled dryly from across the room. 

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped back at him. 

“You used to love it. You used to love me- pathetic really that you still do.” 

You knew what he was trying to do, and it was working. He was trying to make you angry, pushing you to fighting back. And he knew you eventually would, because he knew exactly what to say to hurt you the most. 

“I see the bags under your eyes, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you stay up all night. Is it because your worried for the future- or you regret the past? Maybe you regret that you couldn’t save me, I know Dean does.” 

You grabbed the edges of the table in front of you, digging your nails into the smoothed wood. That bastard. Absolute bastard. 

“Don’t worry though, lover, I like who I am now. Before I was weak, I let trivial things like emotions hold me back. But not now, now I don’t care about anybody- especially not you or Dean- and it’s freeing, really.” 

You felt his eyes on you, scanning your body for any hint that what he was saying was working. And he found it in the form of your fists. They were now clenched and your knuckles were turning white. You willed with everything you had for them to stop, for you to calm down. But it didn’t work. You started thinking about the day Sam got thrown into the cage. And how you could have stopped it. 

“I told you not to talk to me.” You said through gritted teeth, refusing to turn around and look at him. 

“Oh, but we’re having so much fun.” 

“Just shut the hell up and do your research, I want to get the hell out of Montgomery as soon as possible.” You hissed back at him. 

“Why? Just to move onto some other case, some other monster that you need Dean and I’s help to kill?” 

And he’d moved to his second favorite insult. 

“Shut up, Sam.” 

“Why? It’s all true. Before my brother and I you were a joke of a hunter, traveling around and believing you was actually doing good. You didn’t save more than you lost, and you know it.” His voice remained steady and sounding gloriously uninterested.  

“Just leave me alone.” You mumbled more to yourself and turned to open your computer. You planned on getting lost in the lore, on fully immersing yourself into the case. Anything to take your mind off of him, and everything you’d lost. 

“Whatever, I’m going to take a shower.” He had finally gotten bored.

You heard the swish of clothing as he literally stripped right then and there. You kept your back turned though, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a look. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before anyways. 

Before he’d lost his soul, you and Sam had been together. You’d dated for two years and been best friends long before. It had been perfect, like a fairy tale minus the fairies. And plus all the demons. The two of you had just fit together. Even though you were different, it had worked out. You’d brought out the wild side in him and he’d reigned you in a little, the two of you had been in perfect harmony. But that had all changed the day he threw himself into the pit. 

Sam always had this obsession with saving people. In fact, he usually neglected himself in the process. He was selfless and would happily sacrifice himself for the greater good, that was his MO since the day you’d met him. You knew it was because he believed he was a monster, and blamed himself so harshly for the ones he failed to save- those who slipped through the cracks. He had this complex, this need to save everyone. He thought that if he did that, he could somehow make up for all of the bad. And, hell, there was a lot of bad. You knew about Ruby, the demon blood, and everything in between. Sam Winchester was a poster child for self blame and a hero’s complex. You’d known this, and loved him anyway. 

You heard the shower turn on and put the thought out of your mind. Research, you had to do research. You clicked through pages and pages of lore, searching for anything and everything. What you knew so far wasn’t very helpful. There was a string of houses in an old neighborhood being newly developed, each more ancient and rickety than the last. So far, in each family that tried to move into one of these houses, the eldest male was always killed. There wasn’t a certain way though, it had ranged from hanging to drowning. And that was what made no sense, there wasn’t a pattern whatsoever. The families stayed in the houses for various amounts of time, some got weeks and some got days before the thing attacked. So far there had been 4 victims, and you knew you had to act fast before there was another one. 

You clicked through lore for what felt like hours, but was only about 20 minutes. You’d always hated research, it was Sam’s thing and not yours. But Soulless refused to help out 90% of the time; he was all about the kill now, not the facts. After about another 5 minutes, you finally had a break through. It was a sight about the local lore of the town, and it was exactly what you were looking for. Apparently, about 200 years ago, there was a little girl named Lizzie Abrams who lived in one of the houses. The sight said that Lizzie had always been a troubled child, and not gotten along with her family- especially her father. On her 10th birthday, her father killed her in the bathtub. Where it got complicated was that 3 weeks later, Lizzie’s father was killed in the same bathtub. Vengeful spirit- you’d figured it out. The only thing that didn’t make sense was that there a bunch of houses being haunted, you figured she was attached to some object being moved from house to house. 

The shower clicked off and Sam walked out- in nothing but a towel. Steam literally billowed off of him as he shook out his hair- droplets spraying everywhere. You found yourself looking at him, flicking your eyes over his impossibly toned abdomen. The second you realized what you were doing you quickly turning away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. But it was too late, he noticed.

“Like what you see?” He asked, giving you a positively wicked grin. 

“Shut up, I found something. Come here.” 

He started strutting over in nothing but a towel, before you hurriedly yelled at him, “P-put some clothes on first!” 

He just laughed, rolled his eyes, and stalked back into the bathroom to change. When he was finished he hovered over where you were sitting, his arms bracing the table on either side of you. You didn’t look back, but you didn’t shove him away either. So the two of you stood and sat there, looking at the computer screen. He was so god damn close, it was killing you. You found your mind wandering to before he lost his soul, to thinking about how in love the two of you used to be. 

“Look, I think this is what’s happening.” You pointed to the screen. 

He took a second to read it before responding, “Yeah, actually this is what we’ve been looking for. I’ll call Dean, we should head to the neighborhood.” 

You nodded and started heading for the car, grabbing your gun from the table before walking out the door. You sat in the drivers seat of the Impala and turned the key in the ignition, hearing the engine roar as the car started. Sam quickly joined you in the front seat and you set off, meeting Dean at the police station.