#which. to Dean. would mean not a person. to sam it means something different i think

[scoobydoodean]

in fairness, i think amy was specifically going after bad people? like. iirc, she wasn’t choosing them randomly, she was choosing people who were harming others. which adds a bit of important context. however i get the overall point you’re making

I am very aware of this argument, and I'll tell you exactly why I think fandom needs to be more thoughtful about making that argument.

Amy wasn't out there killing serial murderers. She was targeting petty criminals. We see her go after a drug dealer, a potential drunk driver, and someone a cop tells Sam had been "busted half a dozen times"... but isn't in prison, ergo committed a series of misdemeanors—not felonies. We're talking petty theft, public intoxication, sale of illegal materials, etc.

So my question for fandom would be, do you really think it's fine to murder people who committed petty crimes? It's fine to treat those people as human sacrifices? Because for me it's a solid no.

Folsom Prison Blues shows us Sam and Dean potentially diverge at least a little in terms of how they view criminals. Solving a case in prison, Sam mentions they aren't exactly saving innocents. Dean responds,

You from Texas all of a sudden? Just because these people are in jail, doesn't mean they deserve to die. If we don't stop this thing, people are going to continue to die. We do this job wherever it takes us. - Dean in 2.19 Folsom Prison Blues

[diamond-rings-and-gutter-bones]

the thing about "saving people, hunting things" is that one of them thinks of the job as saving people. and the other thinks of it as hunting things. and which one is which, changes, but it's usually dean who saves people and sam who hunts things. which i found surprising when i realized it

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

It’s Not A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems.

Word Count: 3.1K (I promise I didn't mean for it to happen)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing (only a few times), Heated Kiss, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex/Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

Main Masterlist

A/N: Okay I know that I should be working on my other fics, but I had this idea after reading an INCREDIBLE fic by @justagirlinafandomworld called "Stranded" for @jacklesversebingo and I couldn't help myself.

Sam squeals the car into the parking lot of the motel so loud that Dean and you can hear the high pitched scream of rubber on asphalt from your room on the second level.

"If he ruins those tires he's going to pay for them." Dean grumbles under his breath from where he sits at the small wooden table under the window, wiping down his gun with a clean rag. The sunlight that came streaming through dramatized the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft sleepy strands of his hair that still stuck up from when he woke up an hour ago.

"I don't know what his hurry is." You don’t look up from the worn paperback perched in your lap, gently turning the page. "If he's that eager to get back here to tell us something he should have just called."

“Maybe there was a sample sale on hair gel.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you can sense him look up from the gun to try and catch your eye, but you don't raise your gaze from the text.

“That’s pretty brave coming from someone who owns 90% of the products in that bathroom.”

“What? I do not-“

“Really? If I walk in there right now there won’t be seven different half-used deodorant sticks?”

“They’re different smells." Dean says defensively. "And shut up. I don’t comment on how many books you bring with you. Don’t know why you need to shove a million in your bag and then just buy one while you’re here.”

“Because I might not feel like reading the ones I bring. I might want to try something new. And this book,” You wave the book in your hand for emphasis. “Is very good and I don’t have it back at the bunker, and it was only two bucks!"

“But the others ones might be good too. You don’t know.” Dean sighs, looking at you like you're insane. "You just let them sit and rot in your suitcase."

Today was the last day that you would be staying in Louis, Illinois. The current case that the three of you had been working on together had been solved, which meant that the townsfolk were no longer dealing with a zombie outbreak and you were at peace to settle down on your pull out bed with a good book, taking a few moments for yourself.

You desperately needed at least five, but you also wished that you were already back in your room at the bunker.

The bed there didn't have as many springs that stuck into your back at odd angles and didn't squeak whenever you moved an inch. Your inability to find a comfortable position meant that the mattress squeaked all night long and Dean had thrown his pillow at you to make it stop. He hadn’t been pleased when you returned it back to him. Then again, you had hit him in the face with it as hard as you could when you did.

And like hell you were going to give Dean Winchester the satisfaction of sleeping in bed with him. You’d had to do that one time on a hunt where there were no extra rooms and Dean refused to let you sleep on the floor or in his car. He said that you might make it spontaneously combust.  So you'd shared the bed and learned that he was the biggest blanket hog you’d ever met, not to mention when you woke up he was spooning you and you couldn’t be certain, but you thought he had tried to cop a feel at least once.

If anything you’d maybe sleep in Sam’s bed, but the guy was so much bigger than you he took up most of the space, so you were stuck with the pull out couch.

You couldn't wait to be home. You liked going out on cases, but you liked that you had a home now, a space that was only yours, and someplace where you could shut yourself away from the world. And most importantly, away from Dean Winchester, who had been the bane of your existence since the night you met him for the first time.

Of course this wasn't too bad either. Taking a few moments of quiet for yourself while Dean cleaned his guns and sorted some of his tools in his duffle. The two of you were getting more comfortable around one another. When you’d first met there had been a lot of screaming and several "she's not going to be there is she?" and "what the hell is she doing here?" questions that Dean moaned to Sam over and over the more the three of you teamed up.

You weren't used to working with other people, well, now you were,  but before it had just been you and the endless road. But as it began to happen more and more you tried to fit comfortably into the swing of things. Dean and you would occasionally bump heads, but it happened less now than it did before. After five years you'd hoped that the two of you could be more civilized, for Sam's sake at least.

Sam and you got along much better. You didn't understand what Dean's problem was with you, or why he hated you so much. He was always correcting you, insulting you, and snatching things away from you as if you hadn't been hunting your entire life. Occasionally it wasn't that bad, like right now, but it had been much worse a few years ago.

When you'd met Dean you'd hated him, thought he was a dick, but the more the two of you spent time together on cases the more you saw that he did those things to hide what he was feeling and the more you saw how big his heart was.

You believed that your relationship now with him had progressed to a sort of symbiotic relationship, but honestly it was more like passive aggressive roommates who fight over whose turn it is to clean the dishes.

Dean still tended to get high and mighty sometimes and annoyed you without end, but you stuck around and in Sam's words "bickered like an old couple."

Sam had gone to grab some snacks and fill the tank at the gas station down the street twenty minutes ago, leaving with a joyful "Don't kill each other."

So far there were no casualties, but apart of you itched to beam Dean in the back of the head with the paperback just for a little bit of excitement.

Sam bursts into the room out of breath. "Okay I-"

"Where's the fire Sammy?" Dean sighs looking up from his gun.

"I ran into someone when I was at the gas station." Sam says it all together, as if it's one sentence.

"And?" You move your hand in a come on gesture hoping that Sam will get to the point.

"Well he's- he's-"

The man that pushes into the room past Sam is not Dean, he looks like him, but that's not why he's so familiar. He's muscular with dark brown hair that hangs a little longer than Dean's, over the top of his ears, while a few strands fall forward on his forehead. He's allowed a dark beard to cover his cheeks, but his eyes are the same piercing green that they were the last time you saw him. And if that wasn't enough for you to recognize him, the dark green superhero suit would be a dead giveaway.

Oh shit.

"Ben?" You drop your book onto the thick carpeted floor in surprise.

Two months ago you had been unwillingly transported to another reality, a reality where superheroes were real, people had powers, and where you met a version of Dean that you actually got along with better than the Dean in your reality.

You hadn't told Sam or Dean what happened between Ben and you. You weren't about to admit out loud that you actually got along with another version of Dean or admit that you found the other version of Dean aka Ben, attractive. So attractive in fact that you had spent a good amount of the time in the other universe in bed with him before you came back to your reality.

Ben doesn't respond, instead he crosses the room in several powerful strides, and hauls you up off the pull out couch.

"What are you-"

One of his hands tangles in the back of your hair, pulling your mouth against his in a furious kiss that steals your breath away and silences whatever you were going to say next. A part of you registers that Dean and Sam are still in the room, but it's quickly swept away by how it feels to kiss Ben. You hadn't forgotten him, anything but that. Sometimes you actually kind of missed him, when you were lonely or when the Dean from your universe annoyed you too much. Because Ben annoyed you too, but at least at the end of it there was a way to relieve the tension. With Dean the only place you put all your frustration was into the hunt and there were only so many times you could bash a Djinn’s head in.

Ben's tongue brushes against your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him in, bringing your hands up to the back of his neck to thread into the long strands of his hair. The strands fall between your fingertips, feathering out from your grip. You moan softly into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheeks, and feel his hand begin to slip down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

Well, he certainly hasn't changed.

"Fuck I missed you sweetheart." Ben murmurs against your mouth squeezing your butt to emphasize the point. "You and this sexy fucking body."

"Ben." You roll your eyes with a snort.

"What? You didn't miss me?" He raises an eyebrow, forcing his mouth into an attractive pout. "Because you certainly seemed happy to see me a second ago." His free hand gently traces your plump lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

"I did and I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Thought so." Ben leans his head back down towards yours, ignoring your question as he tries to kiss you again, but before he can Dean interrupts.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dean shouts, standing from the table under the window, and points his gun at Ben's unprotected back. "Who the fuck are you?"

Ben half turns over his shoulder eyes flicking from the gun to Dean with a sigh. "Look the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. And you don't want that kid."

Dean makes a face. "Who the hell are you calling kid?"

"Now why don't you two fuck off for a few hours, let me give her a proper hello." Ben turns his dark eyes back on you, cupping your chin in his large hand.

"Y/n? You want to tell us what's happening? Or who this guy is?" Sam asks, but you can't look away from Ben.

You really had missed him. Ben was even more attractive than you remembered. The day that you'd left his universe, Ben had asked you to stay, well, had asked you in his own way. He'd said that he wasn't done with you and if you had stayed he would have made it worth your while. But you had to come back. You weren’t sure how Dean and Sam would survive without you and also because the universe that Ben inhabited was more terrifying than yours, and that was saying something, given that you dealt with demons on a daily basis.

"Guys this is Ben." You clear your throat. "Ben this is Dean and Sam."

"Ben as in Soldier Boy? From the fucked up reality with the people with superpowers Ben?" Dean sputters. He lowered the gun slightly, but he's still looking from Ben to you like he's just walked in on his parents making out.

"Yes." You say it slowly, trying to find a way out, but there really isn't any way to hide this.

It's not that big a deal, is it?

Ben releases you and turns to look at Dean, eyes skating over his body. "So that's Dean?" He tilts his head to the side. "Kinda scrawny. The way you described him made me think he'd look a little more like a man and less like a fucking pussy."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Dean takes a step towards Ben, holding his gun steady out from his chest. You noticed that Dean did try to puff it out more after Ben's insult.

"You heard me." Ben smirks, welcoming the challenge.

"Whoa!" You step between them. "Calm down ladies there's enough Prada to go around at this sample sale."

Ben's eyes narrow in confusion at your comment, but he doesn't back down from Dean.

"I'd say that you left a few details out of your trip!" Dean shouts looking from Ben to you in disgust. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What?" You look at him like he’s crazy.

What does he mean?

"You, and him." Dean gestures wildly with the gun. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What are you talking about? No I didn't sleep with you, I slept with him and it was only once!" You shout back.

Ben clears his throat.

"Fine. A few times.” You correct with a sigh.

“But- you- him-“ Dean’s head turns from Ben to you. “Him- you-.”

“Yeah. Me and her fucked.” Ben says it slowly like Dean is a child.

Honestly he was acting a little bit like a child.

Sam is holding back his laughter behind a hand while Dean’s eye begins to twitch aggressively.

This is exactly why I didn’t tell him. They aren’t the same person! Dean is Dean and Ben is Ben. Someone who shares the same face. And probably the same other things that I’m not going to think about right now because that seems crazy.

"How many times is a few?” Dean demands.

"Why does that matter?”

"HOW MANY?" He shouts so loud that you think the people in the next room over were probably having a wonderful time listening to this soap opera.

Because it kinda did sound like one right? The main character never gets along with someone and then gets transported to another reality through a colorful portal and immediately clicks with another version of him. And-

Maybe I need to rethink my life.

"Well..." Your face scrunched up trying to count exactly how many times that you and Ben had sex. It was difficult. Not that it was hard to remember, you knew that you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon, but just the amount of times the two of you were together was more than you could count on your fingers.

"Well what? You were there for five days!"

"I mean..." You shrug.

“Why?” Dean groans pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to scrub the images from his brain.

Honestly, if he’d told you that he had sex with another version of you, you probably would have had the same reaction, but you were not about to admit that to Dean Winchester of all people.

He’s not gonna win this argument. Especially not when he's waving his gun around like a psychopath.

“Because he's-“ You  glance over at Ben who winks at you. “I don’t know. He’s just kinda-.”

“Everything you’re not.” Ben raises his eyebrow at Dean.

“Sammy you gonna weigh in on this?” You look at Sam expectantly hoping that he can jolt Dean out of the never ending loop he seemed to be stuck in.

“Nope. I’m staying out of it.” Sam holds his hands up in surrender.

“I cannot believe you slept with me!” Dean shouts again.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t sleep with you! I slept with him. Can we please move on-“ You groan.

"Same thing!"

"What? How is it the same thing?” You plant your hands on your hips glaring at Dean.

"He's me from another universe!" Dean is gesturing wildly with his gun now. “How would you feel if I slept with an alternate version of you?”

“It’s completely different!”

“How?”

“They aren’t us!”

“He sure as hell looks like me!" Dean snaps back. "What did you close your eyes the whole time or something?"

Your cheeks flare bright red with Dean's question. "No I didn't!"

“And I don’t look like you.” Ben grunts crossing his arms over his chest and giving Dean a once over again.

“He also doesn’t act like you.” You add.

It was true, Ben didn’t. And for some reason you got along with him more. You didn’t understand what Dean’s problem was, but for the better part of five years he’d been treating you like you hadn’t been hunting your whole life. Not to mention the first three years were spent with Dean barely saying two words to you without some kind of insult attached.

“That’s beside the point!”

“How is that beside the point?” You demand.

“I can’t believe you did this!”

"I didn't kill anyone Dean. I didn't torture any babies or kill any puppies. We are consenting adults! We had sex-"

“No no no!” Dean puts his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalala.” He sings to himself to avoid the image.

"And we're gonna have it again. So the two of you should clear out, unless you're in to that kind of thing Deanie.” Ben wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, but you don’t take your eyes off of Dean.

“Fuck I’m gonna need so much therapy after this” Dean groans putting the gun down on the table. Which was a good sign because now you weren’t worried that he would accidentally shoot Sam in the foot.

“Really? After everything you’ve gone through that’s what pushes you over the edge?” You ask him in shock.

“Yes. Are you happy? You’ve driven me to the point of insanity!” Dean snaps.

"You're acting like a child."

"I am not! I am having a completely normal reaction to finding out you slept with Wannabe Captain America!” Dean gestures to all of Ben who looks at Dean like he can’t tell if it’s an insult or not. 

You take in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Why are you so upset that I slept with him Dean? I don’t understand how this is so earth shattering to you that two people had sex! You have sex with people all the time-“

“Not with you!”He snaps back, but then clears his throat when he realized what he just said.

“He is not YOU!” You shout rolling your eyes for the millionth time. At the rate he was going, you were sure they were going to roll out of your head. 

“As important as this conversation is… can we maybe put a pin in it and go back to why he’s here?” Sam asks diplomatically.

“No-“ Dean says at the same time you say.

“Yes! Ben why are you here?”

“Don’t really know.” He shrugs taking a long hit from a joint that seemed to materialize out of thin air, while tightening his arm over your shoulders. “All I know was that I was fighting Homelander and someone hit me from behind. Then I ended up here.” Ben’s eyes trace your body. “But I’m not complaining, especially not because I got to see you again doll.” He winks.

“Homelander?” Dean repeats. “That is the stupidest hero name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“He’s anything but a hero.” You fight the shudder from the last time you ran in to him. “Think about Superman if Superman was a narcissistic sadist with a massive inferiority complex, no weakness, and an obsession with perfect hair.”

Dean looks Ben up and down with a heavy sigh. “I’m disappointed that I couldn’t have at least been a bit more like Batman.”

“Trust me. You don’t want to meet knockoff Batman from his reality either.” You respond.

"I guess I'll start doing some research." Sam says slowly, looking from Ben to you while hiding a smile.

He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Good." Dean frowns at Ben, before he claps him hard on the shoulder. You saw Dean fight the wince when he felt how solid Ben was. "Let's get you home buddy." His eyes dart from Ben to you. "Before you do anything else that'll scar me for life."

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are not required, but are always appreciated! 😊

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[luna-writes-stuff]

Supernatural characters and what they want to do on a date, please? ♡

some of these will surprise absolutely no one but I am sO GLAD YOU ASKED ANON

——

Dean Winchester

I feel like Dean would be one of the easiest with a date. He always tries to do the things he wants to, so in a date, it won’t be much different. His perfect date would be a road trip - the length depending on what kind of date it is. Usually, you’d drive about four hours to destination unknown, but there have been occasions where you took a couple days off to travel the country and see some classic tourists locations. Vegas is most often where you end up. He’d take you to roadhouses for food, unless you’re travelling to a town specifically. Then, he’d try to find a restaurant which has food he actually likes. If you know him long enough, he might even let you drive Baby. But only for a short while. And his eyes will be glued on you constantly.

——

Sam Winchester

Sam is an absolute gentleman. He’d take you out to a restaurant, hold the door open for you, slide out your seat, won’t eat before you do etc. Nine out of ten times he has a tiny gift with him, regardless of the situation. It could be a random day and he’d give you a box of chocolates or a bouquet of roses. Again - he’s a classic gentleman. He settles for the classic gifts. Afterwards, he loves to take walks with you, visit a museum or simply sit on a bench with a view of some landscape. During hunts, he is likely to take you out to spontaneous trips to the library cafe. Not the most romantic place to go to, but he knows that his lifestyle makes it difficult for him to get to properly take you out all of the time. He prefers the short in between moments more than the entire night planned out. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like them though.

——

Castiel

Does exactly what you randomly mentioned once. When you had only known him for a handful of weeks, you might have casually mentioned you love something such as going to the movies or visiting a beach, and now - years later - he’d have that remembered and do exactly as you said. Over the years, he learns much of human customs, so it isn’t that he doesn’t know what a proper date looks like. It’s simply that he likes to do the things you like to do. He’d much rather do something you forgot you had ever told him than to plan something out for himself out of thin air. Besides, he always enjoys seeing your reaction whenever he takes you out. ‘How did you know I would like this?’ ‘You told me four years ago.’ ‘?????’ He’s very endearing and can never get enough of the absolute shell shocked expression on your face whenever he decides to make your ideas come true. And it still surprises you after so many times.

——

Charlie Bradbury

No, I am not going to tell you she would not take you to a renaissance fair or an arcade or an impromptu DnD session because she absolutely would. Depending on your personal interests and experiences with either three, she’d definitely engage in it. Your first date would likely have been at a ren fair and it has become a tradition ever since. No - not a ren fair like her LARPing (which was still awesome). She’d get dressed up and offer you her arm the entire time. She’d take you to the medieval eating tents, watch live performances of battle field with you, buys you little trinkets at the marketplaces, lets you try on some cool clothing; whatever you enjoy most. The longer you’re dating, the more often you’d go out. At night when both of you are bored, she’d grab a car and take you to a nearby arcade, lovingly annihilating you in Dance Dance Revolution. When you have a free day, she’d try to introduce you to DnD and her current party. The more you learn about it, the more often you’d get invited to their sessions with your own character. She’d sit beside you, holding your hand under the table as she’d be by your character’s side the entire time. It doesn’t even matter that there are other people too. To you, it still feels like a date.

——

Gabriel

Initially, he’d definitely try to escalate the situation into a Casa Erotica tape, but he’s quick to agree with you once you decline. Most dates are spent in fancy hotels or restaurants of which you do not even know the same. He simply takes you there and you trust him with it. Gabriel is one who enjoys party and clubs, so he’d love to take you to cocktail bars every so often, keeping you close to him constantly and showing you off to everyone. Think hand on your waist constantly, sips of your glass, kisses on your cheek, chin on your shoulder etc. If you aren’t one for crowds or parties, he’d bring the party home or to a hotel chamber. He’d pop up his own little bar, mixing his own cocktails (or mocktails), offering them to you as a dramatic bartender, flirting with you as if he’d never seen you before. He’s also a big fan of taking you to big cities just to enjoy the view. You’d be at West End the first evening and Tokyo the second. He’s seen a lot of the world and loves to share that experience with you (and a lot of embarrassing tourist pictures with ‘I love Amsterdam’ shirts)

——

Lucifer

Whatever he does, he tries to brush it off casually. Did he put all that effort into making a non-poisonous dinner with a made table? Pfff, no big deal. Did he really remember you really liked that one necklace? Yeah, he thought you might like it. He definitely did not take that the moment you mentioned it and weren’t looking. He’s a big fan of the tiny date ideas. Movie night? Absolutely. Oh yes, there is a pit with pillows there but it definitely isn’t there because you love them and he secretly loves to hold you close in them. Going out to the marketplace? Fun! He definitely won’t offer you his arm the entire time and get everything you claim ‘smells nice’ or ‘still need’. He does tiny gestures and tries to brush them off every single time, even after you thank him for it or compliment him on it. He doesn’t brush it off out of his pride or negligence of you - on the contrary. He brushes it off to make it seem as if it is easy for him. He has spent a long time separated from any form of contact and has not known love for the majority of his life. To have finally found you is something completely foreign to him, and he tries to keep you happy so desperately, but he doesn’t want it to seem like he puts too much effort into it. It’s okay, though. You secretly know this.

——

Crowley

Much like Sam, he takes you out on classic dates. He’d show up to your doorstep, even though he can easily enter. He offers you his arm the entire night as he takes you out to dinner, walk the city or take you to that concert you mentioned once. Even better - he got you backstage passes. Your favourite artist in town? Isn’t it great to not have that ticket sale stress anymore? Whatever you do during the date, he makes sure you have a great time. Your pleasure and enjoyment comes first, and if that means he has to eat a place he hates or see a band he cannot stand, then so be it. He won’t make a long face nor express his dissatisfaction. If anything, he might even start to like it purely because you do. He’s quick to associate these things with you as well. Once you mention your love towards a certain dish or city, he keeps it locked in his mind and thinks of you every time someone mentions it. He’ll make sure to give you gifts often enough which go hand in hand with your interests and loves. He knows perfectly what you like and don’t like and always keeps this in mind. He’d never take you somewhere you don’t want to be or don’t like to go.

[bunnysbrainrot]

Obedience at its Finest

Relationship: Lucifer!Castiel x fem!Reader

Content: degradation, pet play (remember when he called Crowley his 'puppy'? exactly), BDSM, slapping, oral (male receiving).

Summary: Castiel had accepted Lucifer to take over his vessel, leaving you as collateral for Cas's agreement with Lucifer. No harm would come to you, at least not in the way that you think. The Devil himself decides to see how far he can push to break you, you can only hope that you'll last. Though you had been attracted to Castiel before, his whole new persona takes you by surprise.

A/N: I was really excited to write this, so I'm hoping it gets the love it needs! Chapter two is already being brainstormed. This one may get pretty intense, especially in further chapters. If that's not what you're looking for, feel free to send a request!

Everything was different. The whole world had flipped upside down and it left you and the Winchesters confused. Castiel had agreed to let Lucifer himself take over his vessel over a month ago. The one thing no one anticipated was the Devil taking you, as 'collateral', he said. You were immediately swept away with a snap of his fingers, the last thing you saw being Sam and Dean's torn expressions while Satan whisked you away.

Now you stood in a throne room, the click of Lucifer's shoes being the only sound as he strode over to you.

"Tell me, I've had you here for quite some time," he opened, "do you know why I chose you instead of a Winchester?"

It was something you had contemplated for a while, why you of all people? Your eyes met Lucifer's as he smiled deviously down at you. He clicked his tongue when you shook your head, eyes wide with nervousness. His potential is unmatched to anything you had seen before. Just a snap of his fingers - hell, a single thought, could kill you. But he had every other chance since kidnapping you to finish the job and get rid of you, why...?

"Well, A: It's a pain in the neck - having a Winchester and Dad knows who else on my ass forever? Pass."

Lucifer stood beside you, craning his neck to ogle at your face while it remained still as stone.

"Come on! You gotta warm up sometime, geez. Don't you wanna hear what 'B' is?" His tone was jovial, a constant taunting when he spoke to you. Your eyes met his - the eyes of someone who once was your friend, potentially much more if it weren't for God's 'Favorite' taking over his life. Part of you mourned silently over Castiel, though you knew he wasn't truly gone, and that he was in there somewhere. Behind the, pun intended, devilish grin on his face.

You gave him a curt nod, to which he let out a deep breath.

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," he said encouragingly. Lucifer stepped to the side to make a path behind you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. "You see, I can admit that I may have taken you because of a... personal affection. If you know what I mean."

His lowered voice shuddered through you. A hand wandered to your chin, cupping beneath it to lean your head back, eyes meeting Lucifer's. You let out a small gasp at the motion that made him smile with great satisfaction.

Lucifer hummed, "Interesting. You like that?"

His taunting continued as a warmth spread over your body. He continued, "Well, I thought you and our buddy Castiel here were a bit closer than just friends. Or at least, that's what you wanted it to be."

The words sank in your gut, the truth behind them was a weight you couldn't shake. You didn't get the opportunity to admit your affections to Cas before he worked with Lucifer. It was a chance you had lost hope on, now that the Devil was involved.

He leaned closer to your ear, raising goosebumps across your neck when his warm breath brushed against your skin. A shuddering exhale left your lips, a familiar tightening in your stomach began to begin.

Was there seriously any way you were actually attracted to this?

"Let me tell you a secret, okay? Since Castiel never had the balls to tell you, I'm going to do him the favor." Lucifer's lips planted a soft kiss on your neck, just under your ear.

"He likes you, too. Well, that's one way to put it, at least." Your eyes shot open wide in shock, breath hitching in your throat.

"That's not true," you retorted.

He shook his head, "It's true. Very true, actually. I mean, Cas was actually the one who begged me to spare you. He really said 'to hell' with those Winchesters, eh? Would've been more fun if that were literal."

The mix of flirtation and teasing confused you. What was his game here? First he takes over your friend's body, then he confesses his endearment for you?

Lucifer's hands travel to your waist as he brought his hips to your rear, "Say, I have a way we can kill two birds with one stone, here. You like Cas, Cas likes you, I like you. I think we could have a little fun with that."

The tight sensation in your abdomen grew ever stronger, your thighs shifting together to stifle the feeling. This didn't go unnoticed by Lucifer's keen attention, eyes raking over your tense body.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he knew you wouldn't dare. Couldn't. So, he continued, "I think you like that idea. Dirty, dirty."

He wove around you to face you properly. Lucifer cupped your face in one hand, fingers tightening around your jaw. His voice lowered to a whisper once again, his voice gravelly.

"You see, you're a depraved little thing. Unfortunately I don't think your precious Castiel could handle it - but I can. And I have a feeling that you'd let me," Lucifer drawled on, trailing a finger down your throat to between your breasts, hovering just above the apex of your thighs. It would be an outright lie if you told him this wasn't exciting for you. Though he was in your friend's body, Lucifer's teasing, his sheer dominance, spurred you on.

Ever since keeping Lucifer company, he dictated everything that happened to you. No harm had come to you, in fact it was almost nice. You were doted on, though you didn't always accept it, prioritized with the best food and bedrest you had ever gotten. It seemed like Lucifer would go above and beyond to earn your affection and trust.

Today he had chosen a sophisticated outfit: a black button up shirt with a slim fitting black skirt to match. Your legs were adorned with delicate gray tights, black Mary Jane shoes to bring the outfit together. It was his favorite.

"Now, let's see how well you listen," purred Lucifer. "On your knees, pet."

Though logic told you to disobey, you lowered down, kneeling before him. The Devil rewarded you with a smile and a finger under your chin, angling your head upward.

"Good, good. I still think we could work on the obedience aspect of it. You're listening, sure, but I need more. As the true King of Hell, it's only fitting that you serve me as I need." He landed a firm pat on your cheek, the impact leaving you clenching your thighs.

He carded his fingers into your hair, gripping you securely to maintain your eye contact, "Let's start with that shirt. I want to see what's underneath."

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons, but Lucifer took over and tore down your stomach, buttons scattering across the floor. He growled lowly as your chest was finally exposed to him, your breasts caged in a black lace bra. He noticed how your perk nipples pushed against the padding, as if your body was telling him where you needed his touch. Pushing your shirt past your shoulders, Lucifer tugged it off and cast it to the side, his hands finding the clasp of your bra to unhook it. The air of the room made your skin crawl, the swollen buds on your breasts aching from the cold.

"Arms behind your back, sit up straight."

You obliged willingly, weaving your fingers together to present your chest to him. Lucifer ran a hand over your breasts, squeezing roughly, eliciting a moan form you.

He snarled, lazily drawing out the words, "Nice fuckin' tits." Hearing this come from your friend's mouth shocked you, though his degrading tone had you clenching your walls. Lucifer landed a sharp slap on your tit, a red splotch newly painted on your skin. Your mouth hung agape in pleasure, panting softly as he landed several slaps, paying special attention to your nipples.

It brought him pure joy to see you like this - your body writhing in ways that begged for him to touch you, shaking thighs trying not to let you fall to the floor, the bit of spit that spilled from your mouth and onto your lovely breasts. Finally, you were becoming what he wished for: a perfect slut. His new favorite toy.

"Dirty girl," said Lucifer. Two of his fingers gathered the drool from your chest, immediately thrusting into your open mouth. You gagged harshly, but the way his free hand gripped your hair made you whimper. Lucifer's smile was crazed, the joy of seeing you like this had surmounted his self-control.

You coughed desperately when his fingers left your mouth. Two hands reached under your arms and hoisted you up to your feet. It would take some time for your knees to get stable at this point; you felt like you could drop to the floor at any second. Lucifer cupped your face in both hands and roughly crashed his lips into yours, his tongue already begging for entry at your lips. Letting him in allowed Lucifer to ravage your mouth - greedy lips and hands alike moved across your neck and face until Lucifer had his lips firmly on your collarbone.

"Please... please, sir," you whispered. What you were asking for, you had no idea. All you needed now was any bit of friction to your swollen clit.

Lucifer's husky voice danced over your skin, "Such good manners. What does my precious pet need?"

'Pet' echoed in your head while you tried to calm your senses and form something coherent. Your reply came out in short bursts between panting breaths.

"I need... more... Want you... to... touch me."

All thoughts had left your mind from his touch, the only ache in your body being for him. To serve. To obey.

He paused, fingers rolling a nipple harshly between his fingers, "Nope. That's not how it works."

You cried out in a blend of pain and pleasure.

"You don't need anything. You want me to touch you. You want me to fuck you, to bury my cock so far into that little cunt until you're nice and stretched out," his voice grew louder with each passing second. The dominating voice took you over completely, bringing tears to your eyes.

Though you were crying, Lucifer smiled at you, seeming pleased at the outburst.

"Be a good doggy," he ordered, "and beg."

Your voice came out more desperate than you intended, pleading desperately to him, "Please, sir. I want more of you. I can b-be good."

This settled well with Lucfier, his only reply being a finger pointed to the floor, a silent command to get on your knees again. You followed the order quickly, knees scraping lightly across the stone.

Now with his hips at your eye level, Lucifer looked down at your blushed face. Thoughts of Castiel flicked through your head - if he would be willing to take you like this, how much you would like it, and how nervous you were to ask him to do it himself. Even still, this seemed to be the next best thing. The Devil gripped your jaw gently with one hand, quickly unbuckling his belt with the other. His busy fingers fiddled with the button and zipper of his pants and cast them to the floor. What waited for you now was an aching erection through his boxer briefs, twitching slightly as your mouth neared it.

"I have one job for you," announced Lucifer. His hand moved from your jaw and into your hair, tightening his grip to control your head.

"Use your tongue."

With a snap of his fingers the boxers disappeared, his thick length breaking free and hovering tauntingly in front of you. Lucifer gripped the shaft of his cock and smacked it against your cheek. His expression showed his amusement at your drooling mouth and half lidded eyes.

He tapped the head of his cock on your lips, "Open."

And so you did. The thick head now rested on your outstretched tongue, tasting of the precum that had leaked from him. Lucifer positioned you by your gripped hair before thrusting into your throat, slowly at first. Inch by inch, your mouth took in his cock, until he reached the back of your throat with a displeased grunt. His thrusts became more urgent, pushing farther back into your mouth than you could handle.

Or so you thought.

Lucifer shoved your head down, the sounds of your gagging filling the room while your spit fell to the floor in messy strands. For what felt like an eternity this went on, his grunts growing louder as he used you.

He tugged you off of his length, leaving you to gasp beneath him. You coughed while tears streamed down your cheeks. Lucifer gave you another grin.

"Good doggy."

Hi again, I hope you enjoyed! If you would like a second chapter, let me know in the comments. Thank you all for your support. <3

-Bunny

[districtsleepsalonetonight]

Was reading a headcanon post earlier about Dean and consent while rewatching the kiss scene in Caged Heat and something occurred to me about Dean’s awareness of Cas’s consent to things.

When he sees Meg kiss Cas, we see Dean’s reaction behind them.

He frowns, glances at Sam, looking annoyed, opens his mouth as though to say something, and then actually makes a move to step towards them-you can see he’s moving forward just after Meg breaks away from Cas.

Bear in mind the last time Dean saw Cas in any potential sexual/romantic situation, it was the brothel and it was blatantly obvious that Cas wasn’t comfortable.

Then when Cas takes hold of Meg and initiates a kiss himself, we see Dean’s reaction differs. He still looks flustered, mildly annoyed (pointing at the wall to remind them silently of the approaching dogs) and then shrugs. He doesn’t have the same irritated reaction and doesn’t make any move towards them.

Then when Cas breaks away, Dean looks at him questioningly. Could both be a “What the hell are you doing right now?” questioning look and also a “What did you think?” questioning look.

It’s only when Cas says “I learnt that from the Pizza Man” that Dean seems to fully stand down from the “ready to move in if anything’s wrong” stance.

On another note, when Dean realises that Cas is fine- it’s pretty interesting to see what his face does.

There’s a sort of bewildered expression as he looks away from Cas, as though he’s still trying to compute what he’s just seen and his eyes actually widen as he looks down at the end of the shot. In fact, the shot actually focuses on Dean specifically in that moment, not any of the others-it’s Dean’s reaction to the kiss that’s important.

It makes more sense when you remember Dean has never seen Cas acting consensually in any romantic situation before-in fact, I think Jensen mentioned later on (as to why Dean was so surprised by Cas’s love confession) that he wasn’t even sure angels could feel those things. Up until now, Dean’s teasing Cas with flirty remarks has mostly seemed to go over Cas’s head. Even earlier in the episode, when Cas is watching porn, he didn’t seem to properly understand what was going on.

Now, Dean’s suddenly having this realisation that-oh. Cas does get some stuff about sex. Cas does kiss. Oh. That’s a whole new side to Cas. (It actually looks quite similar to the expression he does in Changing Channels when Gabe calls Cas “pretty”. There’s an expression then that’s sort of “Wait-is he?” as though he’s always been somewhat aware of it but this is the first time it’s been acknowledged out loud.)

It allows him to acknowledge Cas in a whole new way he didn’t before. Because previously Cas seemed to totally lack interest in sex, so in many ways, it would have been safe to flirt with him and tease him, because it feels off-limits.

Now, though? He’s seeing Cas make out with someone right there, in front of him. It’s impossible to ignore this whole new side to Cas. So maybe Cas can get Dean’s references and jokes. Maybe Cas does get more of the personal space thing than he lets on. Cas can want at least kissing, and what does that mean?

It, in a way, gives Dean permission to let himself see Cas that way properly-as a being that can want sex-for the very first time. And that seems to simultaneously intrigue him and almost scare him. Because having permission to see Cas in that way lets him acknowledge things that he didn’t have to acknowledge before.

But digressing…

Dean’s annoyance in the scene didn’t just originate from Cas kissing someone-it originated from him not being sure if Cas was OK with what was going on. He’s seen Cas be deeply unsure/uncomfortable in the brothel (which, funny as it was, wasn’t Dean’s best moment overall), doesn’t know how he’s going to react and actually makes a move towards them as though he’s going to try to stop Meg kissing him or make sure Cas is OK.

Once he realises Cas is onboard, he stops moving forward-he actually moves back a little-and even slightly holds his hands up in a shrug. While he still looks uncomfortable and flustered, he’s no longer angry.

Dean wanted to be sure that Cas was all right with what was going on, was prepared to step in if Cas was uncomfortable, and backed off when he realised Cas was OK. Not only is this Dean showing a good awareness of consent, it’s also a nice bit of character development from the brothel episode the previous season, where Cas was pretty uncomfortable and Dean did-as well as he meant it-keep pushing him.

Then, Dean was keen on giving Cas more human experiences. Now, Dean’s more conscious of letting Cas go at his own pace and he’s prepared to step in if others aren’t letting that happen too. As well as Cas becoming more accepting of human behaviour, Dean is also making adjustments for Cas.

And Cas seems aware of this. Check out where he looks when he realises Meg has taken his angel blade:

He realises it’s gone and must know immediately who’s taken it-but he looks straight at Dean, almost in a way that’s a little annoyed. As though he almost wants to ask Dean why he didn’t intervene to stop Meg taking the blade (not necessarily the kiss).

And he looks at Dean instinctively. Instinctively, he’s come to know that Dean will step in to help him in (particularly human) situations where he’s out of his depth. It’s an instinctive glance before he turns back to glare at Meg.

So it’s not just that Dean’s adjusting for Cas-Cas is aware of that adjustment and it just deepens his attachment to Dean.

And yeah-for the first time in this scene, Dean has to acknowledge that he can think of Cas as not being some off-limits angel-but as someone who could actually want sex and intimacy. Which makes anything he himself may feel more possible and more terrifying.

[doctorprofessorsong]

Hello! I recently watched The Winchesters and had a question, which I figured you could answer/discuss?

I'm aware that the show takes place in an Alt Universe, and that Spn's John never fell into the hunting life earlier, so he never knew Carlos personally. But still, it's still him — and he is not homophobic towards Carlos who is canonically bi. It can be argued that he just does not know, like he did not know about Carlos serving the Navy, but then what about Anton? We know Lata knows, of course. But has it been explicitly stated that Mary & John know too? And it's not like Carlos hides himself; he's open about his interests and that's amazing, but John is never portrayed as a Hater, no? Not in this sense in the show.

But we, as a fandom, have concluded that John is the reason for Dean's suppression of his own feelings — in general, and about being into men — but then... Carlos.

Did Dean assume his father would never approve? Because he never does of anything that has to do with feelings; it's always hunting and more hunting and revenge, of course. Is that what happened, rather than John actually being homophobic, he was a colossal failure of a parent who "just" pushed away his son(s) emotionally to a level where potential abuse and discouragement were more realistic than anything else? Does this also mean that when Dean does come out to John he would be supportive, at least, of this?

It's just been bugging me, is all.

Hoo boy. Throwing me an easy one before coffee, huh? :)

As a fun aside, there is a scene where a Carlos is mentioned in the mothership. It's not established to be the same Carlos in SPNwin, but the SPN episode was written by Robbie and he has acknowledged they are in his mind.

That doesn't get us to an answer, but it's nice to know that Dean and Sam possibly knew a version of Carlos.

Leading with the short answer to the actual question: what you have described regarding canon is a lot of assumptions and headcanons, which are fine and can absolutely be read as "John was just different in the different universes,' but I personally find that to be the boring answer. I think this fandom tends to write John as the evil bad dad, when a complex gray John is far meatier, so I'm often inclined to go deeper.

The answer I feel works better is the possibly unpopular opinion that we don't actually know John is homophobic at all and it's very possible Dean’s relationship with his father, while fraught with expectations in any number of ways, may not actually be driving his choice to live in the closet and/or his delayed realization of his sexual orientation. It's extremely possible John isn't homophobic at all. Dean may have read him that way or he may have felt pressure from external sources. These days my preferred reading tends to actually be something else entirely: that Dean knows he is queer and simply doesn't reveal it because he is of an era and a world where queerness is often not open and obvious to outsiders.

This is gonna be a long haul so I'm gonna pop in a courtesy cut and jump in. Don't worry. There WILL be headings and bullet points. Regret asking me yet? 😆

Is John homophobic?

Canon support

There isn't a ton of canon support for the homophobic John reading. That's not saying it isn't a valid reading. It's just that it's an interpretation and not fact. Here are the things I have seen or remember:

Martin and Tara - taking these together because they are a similar pattern. Both tell Dean his dad would be disappointed in him for running around with this male shaped monster (boyfriend). The textual reading is that John wouldn't want him running around with monsters. There is a subtexual reading that John wouldn't want him to have a boyfriend which is super valid. It just doesn't tell us much about John because 1. We know he was very black and white on monsters, 2. neither of these characters knows John that well. Tara got ghosted by him. It's possible this is a reflection of the larger hunter community (though possibly not even that). The point is it's canon evidence that can be taken either way.

Lee? A lot of people write that scene as John finding in them in a compromising position and I get it because Christian Kane and Jensen Ackles looked like they were about to sneak off to the bathroom, but the actual story is "You remember that time he caught us wasted on a Hunt? Hm? He was so mad, I-I thought he was gonna have an aneurysm." We know that John is really hard on Dean and Sam specifically because he chooses preparation for monsters over all (including their mental health) so this is absolutely consistent with his character regardless of any romance between them.

The nuns - this is not technically canon, but there is a story about John sending Dean on a solo hunt on his birthday to chase after queer nuns. First and foremost, I am noting this is sketchy from a canon/non-canon evidence perspective. It is something written and endorsed by SPN in the same way as the cartoon and the upcoming graphic novel. It's not fan fiction, but I would say it's not truly canon canon. But taking the evidence for what it is, it's interesting to note that in the journal John doesn't actually say anything homophobic. He describes the hunt as "Simple salt-and-burn mission. Nuns in love with each other, then discovered. Killed themselves." There's no commentary. No slurs. They were "in love." The real meat of the homophobia here is that he sent is queer son alone on his birthday to deal with them and it could be read as a message. That doesn't mean it's intended to be one.

That's all I can think of. It's not a lot and it's not definitive. It's perfectly valid to read it as support for homophobic John AND I think there may be some writer intent in the same way that monsters are often an allegory in the show and in media for queerness.

But it's also not a smoking gun. It's more of a unloaded gun with bullets next to it. So why do people think John is this super homophobic person?

Non-canon support and factors

There's a lot that goes into the interpretation of John that lies outside of the text.

His age and upbringing - He was raised in a time and place where acceptance of queer people wasn't exactly the default and then he went into the military which is also not exactly known for being particularly great for queer acceptance.

Classism - I say this gently to the fandom, but there is this idea that people who aren't in urban areas, and especially in poor rural areas must be homophobic. This comes up a lot in the Sam went to Stanford and is educated and therefore is a better ally headcanon. It's worth considering whether that is a factor here.

He raised his kids with military precision when he was around - there is no doubt that John was a hard man who treated his children like soldiers. A lot of people group gender and sexual orientation, especially when it comes to the gender aspects of masculinity where "be a man" and "be tougher" is frequently aimed at queer men. There's a lot of masculinity reinforcement for sure in the text and subtext of the show.

He's a bad dad and we're a bunch of traumatized queers with daddy issues. I know because I'm not only the owner, I'm a member.

I'm simplifying some of this, but there are a lot of factors that contribute to this reading and they are real and valid reasons. They just aren't textual and in some cases they are absolutely based in stereotypes. That's fine! Stereotypes aren't always incorrect. But they can be and it's worth wondering whether or not they are true.

There are plenty of people like John who are either not homophobic, or of the nature of it's fine if I don't see it variety of homophobia (which would actually be fairly logical to read into given the time and place of Dean's upbringing and the risk being openly queer presented especially for John who's priority is physical safety and preparation).

Personally, I find the lack of text to be fairly compelling, especially when we look at Dean's other behaviors, but that is my interpretation. I personally think John would have a problem with a monster boyfriend because of the monster bit, but doesn't give a fuck about the boyfriend bit except to the extent it may draw danger. I don't actually think John fits the rural strict father homophobic stereotype very well. He's not particularly religious. He doesn't seem to care what his kids do as long as they are safe and in the family business. He doesn't quiz Dean about where he was or who he was with.

I grew up in the South and have known a lot of homophobic parents in my day (including my own! See above). The pattern is often a parent who wants their kid to meet a certain social standard. Don't be gay because it will reflect bad on the family and you will go to hell. John shows negative interest in that arena.

He shows some of the don't be gay because it isn't manly aspects of that type of parent, but I also think a lot of people conflate masculinity with sexual orientation in this analysis. I say this specifically nodding to the Krikpe quote about umbrellas which in no way mentions being gay, but does mention being tough hunters not scared of demons. The text of that tweet and the story the fandom tells are two very distinct things.

It's very possible that those aspects of John's personality are part of why Dean performs tough het male so hard and that would be an aspect of what you are describing. I will also say however that Dean cries a lot. He's very open with his emotions and with caring for people. He's very good with people. Hes always been openly a caretaker. So he isn't performing masculinity so hard that those pieces of him are erased or hidden.

Why is Dean Like That if it isn't the daddy issues?

Let's look at this as if John wasn't openly and particularly notably homophobic. That is to say he had the casual homophobia of the 80s and 90s combined with a friend group of hypermasculine beer and bourbon drinking dudes with guns, but he wasn't, say, abusing Dean if he caught sight of potential gayness. Just to analyze the other question which is Dean's suppression of his feelings or denial of his queerness.

The fandom is not a monolith and I think there are lots of fans with lots of differing analysis in this arena, so I just want to again reiterate, this is all interpretation and headcanon! It's fine to fall anywhere in this spectrum.

Dean is Like That because he assumes he knows how his Dad would react

It's possible John talked about this idea that he has to get to an apple pie life long enough and made assumptions about the gender of his future partner, or that he was so neglectful or abusive, or that he made enough comments about being a "man" because he was worried about Dean being a victim, that Dean assumed his father would not support him. It's possible the canon events above where never intended to send a message to Dean that he still believed and read into them. That's not a criticism. We all interpret the things that happen to us. We are the ones who put meaning to an event, and that meaning may not match with the other person's intent. It doesn't make it invalid.

As you say, it may be a failure of parenting.

Dean is Like That because he grew up in the 80s and 90s

As someone who was born between Dean and Sam, I can say with the authority of experience that the 80s and 90s were a rough time to be queer. Like a really rough time. There were a lot of cultural things happening. Not to mention Dean had a rough upbringing.

HIV/AIDS - There are greater and more knowledgeable sources than me about this topic, but growing up during this time I can say that people were absolutely fucking awful about HIV/AIDS. We had school assemblies full of misinformation. Scores of people were dying and being told they deserved it. A lot of queer kids were internalizing the idea that queerness was a death sentence. I cannot actually come up with a good comparison in modern day. It was absolutely awful for the community, and the messages being delivered to kids was: "if you choose to be gay, you will die."

Casual homophobia - Remember when Misha used the f-word and people lost their fucking minds even though he was talking about lived experiences for most of us of a certain age? Yeah, that outrage was unimaginable to me as a kid. The idea that people would ever get to a point where the use of the word in a non-slur posture would even register. Slurs were thrown around all the time. People and things were "gay" and that was bad. Dean spent time being thrown from school to school and it would have been a massively important for him to come in performing cool masculine untouchable guy who enjoys women.

Dean lives in a transient space - He's constantly alone and in charge in places where someone might take advantage of him or Sammy. Being noticed and assumed weak is dangerous.

Counterpoint: Dean's upbringing may support more comfort rather than less with queerness, but it encouraged secrecy

To fully contradict myself, Dean was in transient spaces. That means he would have been interacting with more queer people than the average suburban or rural teen. He's in truck stops and no-tell motels. That boy met queer people. But he met people who were living in the shadows. This isn't unusual for that era. Queerness to dean was cruising and truck stops and one night stands in seedy motels. Something to be done but not to be seen.

Dean's reaction to queer people in canon supports this reading. He's never disgusted, but he's often surprised specifically about open and public displays of queerness. He tends to react to openly queer people with surprise and longing, but specifically most of his oh right there are queer people faces are reactions to open displays of queerness.

Even HIV/AIDS may have hit different in the hunting community. Dean didn't expect to live to an old age. I say this mainly because the lack of blood squick.

Consider a reading that he knows

We have so many lovely coded moments of queer Dean. The bathroom he disappears into. The way he gets clocked and doesn't deny it at times. Any denials he makes can be read to be situations where he doesn't know what the other person will react like.

I think it's very possible he isn't repressed at all! He just uses the closet as a shield or he doesn't share that information with people unless he wants to/trusts them/feels it's relevant to them.

PS DM me if you want to chat more and also I may have a discord of interest.

[lailawinchesterr]

blowing smoke [sam winchester]

masterlist request summary: you’ve liked sam ever since you’ve known him and now he’s interested in this ‘nelly’ girl.

tags: mutual pinning, cursing, said short but it’s a ‘jared’ short so you’re shorter than 6’4.

If you ever see Nelly Smith again, it’ll be too soon. Way too fucking soon. Granted, you’ve only met her a couple of times, but it’s more than enough to see her for who she is, which is nothing, she’s as shallow as they come. 

This isn’t to shame her per se, she's a great hunter considering each time you met her she’s saved your ass. And this time wasn't any different, except that she’s saved you, Sam and Dean, but she’s not an incredible human being either. 

Because, first of all, when has anyone ever accepted a ‘do you want to stay over’ invite? Sam and Dean were being polite after she saved your lives when Sam had offered for her to crash at the bunker till the morning. Completely polite. And you’re sure he assumed she would decline anyways. A usual, ‘thanks but I have a motel’. 

Instead she was all smiles and grateful as she stroked Sam’s arm to emphasize her thanks. Which, totally unnecessary, lady. She drives back with the three of you, behind your car, and parks just outside the bunker. She says she’ll leave in the morning when Sam shows her to Cass’s room that they never use, but at least it’s clean enough for a human being to inhabit. Dean says he’ll grab new sheets and you’re staring daggers at her. 

You’re not an unkind person, in fact, everyone that’s met you has said nothing but nice things about you, but she’s just not clicking. Everything she says and does makes you hate her a little more. Which is why you take Dean’s place and get the sheets instead as you tell him that he’s already tired enough as is. He accepts, hugs you quickly in appreciation and heads to his room. Probably for a shower. You’re all due a good, long shower after the ghoul insides decorating you. 

“Here,” you smile tightly, it’s less of a smile and more of you pursing your lips in challenge. She catches the sheets with a charming grin and nods, thanking you. Sam passes by the room after his five minute shower to catch the scene and rushes to help her like the sweet guy he is. 

He doesn’t scowl at you for being rude or anything, he just assists her with no complaint and then you both leave her room with a faint goodnight. That’s when you decide to ask what the hell is going on. You know you don’t have the right to do that, you’re as much of an intruder as she is— but still! 

“Is she actually staying here?” Sam’s eyes widen a little and he looks over at you as he walks you to your room, which is across from his. “I mean like, you’re so nice to her.”

“Yeah, she’s a hunter— a friend,” a friend? Might as well bake her a cake at this fucking point. A friend? What’s next, they’ll fuck?

Okay, in your defense, you were being sarcastic. You didn’t think you’d actually wake up at five in the morning to see a freshly showered Nelly walk out of Sam’s room. She spots you as you open your door, jaw on the floor, and buttons up her shirt, no, Sam’s shirt. “Morning, honey! Didn’t know you woke up so early.”

“Yeah,” you look her up and down, just once, and she looks great. Her hair’s perfect and she’s wearing her own jeans that fit just right, you can’t blame Sam. “Morning to you too.”

“I’ll head to my room. Sleep a few hours before I hit the road, you know.” You can’t even be mad at her anymore, you’re just upset, like there’s a churning in your stomach, deep inside, and everytime you think about it it hurts a thousand times more. 

Just as she’s about to bolt, you assume he heard the commotion, and Sam opens his door. “What’s— oh, hey,” he addresses you and you give him something that resembles a greeting for one second before you mumble about a shower and shut your door closed. 

What. Is. Happening. One night stands? Totally Dean’s thing, not Sam’s. Never Sam’s. And you were so grateful about it, too, considering you’ve been in love with him for years. But where do you find the time to tell someone that when they’re being attacked constantly? 

And now that things… well, they haven’t settled, but they’re not as chaotic thanks to Chuck leaving. Everyone’s hunting and happy, still on the lookout, but you guys escaped his ‘welcome to the end’ charade, the Winchesters are free to be happy, and you’ve been invading Sam’s space more often these past days. Trying to give him hints, trying to make progress. 

He’s been giving them back, or you thought he had. You’d even found Eileen and brought her back to life but instead of him jumping into her arms, she stayed for a few days and left to keep hunting. Everything is supposed to finally frickin’ click between you guys, you’re done! And yet, of course, it doesn’t.

You actually do decide to take that shower and it calms you down a lot more than you’d like to admit. You’d have probably done soemthing stupid if you didn’t take it before you left your room— like choke Nelly. Or kiss Sam. Both are equally catastrophic.

As you’re drying your hair in between a towel, walking into the kitchen, you see Dean already on the stove. “Hey, De.” Your eyes gleam as you notice the pancakes he’s hovering over. “No way, is there enough?”

He faces you, and nods. Looks like he’s still asleep. “You okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep a fucking second with Sam and Nelly going at it all night.” Your blood runs cold and you try to shrug it off. Oh god, seriously? All night? Come on, no way. There’s no doubt in your mind Sam can make it that good but he must’ve liked— practically loved Nelly to stay that long. 

“All night?” You repeat and its a little pathetic so you decide to straighten up and shake your head, willing the thoughts to go away. “What are we gonna do today?” You ask before he can comment on your first statement.

He gives you a look before going back to flipping the pancake. “Nothin’ that I’m aware of. I’ll try to find a hunt but we could wait until tomorrow.” You could, considering the only reason you took a hunt in the first place was because of the proximity, you’re in no rush to find another one. All of you kind of enjoy the quiet. 

“Why are you up so early, though?” He shrugs, placing the last one on a plate and turning off the fire. Three incredibly full plates of pancakes. Dean’s been awake for a while. “Seriously? Talk to me.”

“I told you.”

“Liar. You could’ve picked another room.” The only reason Dean heard everything is because his vents are connected to Sam’s, which is the way he likes it. So Sam’s far away from the entrance in case anything comes in, but He’ll wake up if anything tries to take him. 

“It’s fine.” You don’t push after that cause Dean’s  scary in the morning and if he has a serious problem he would let you guys know. He would let Sam know. 

Speaking of the devil (unironically), he comes into the kitchen, his eyes scanning the counter. You wave at him wordlessly and start on the, no doubt, delicious breakfast Dean prepared. Obviously it needs some white chocolate sauce, but to do that you’d need to stand up and go get it— not exactly appealing. Eating it half dry? Yeah, more appealing.

Until you find your favorite sauce container right next to your plate and when you look up Sam’s smiling at you. Yeah, not that easy, pal, but good try. You take it from him with a murmured thanks and add an unhealthy amount. Drowning your sorrows in chocolate, no better way to start the day.

It’s a slow day. No matter what Dean said you didn’t expect that he’d actually wait for a day before finding a hunt. But that not what’s actually bothering you, no, worse than all this sitting at home doing nothing is frickin Nelly sleeping in the bunker still. It’s been four hours. How long does she plan on sleeping? On staying? 

Someone should probably wake her up and make her leave. For her safety, of course, you wouldn’t want her to drive after daylight, what with all the things that go bumping in the night. 

Dean comes to sit next to you on the couch in the… entertainment room? Playroom? (You’re not calling it the Dean Cave if your life depends on it) “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” he offers his beer and you just shake your head. “What’re you doing here?”

“Why’s Nelly here?” Oh God. Someone shut you up. Immediately. “I’m sorry—”

“Nah, it’s okay. I knew you’d break eventually. She’s supposed to leave today anyway.”

“Break?”

“Yeah. You like Sam, he’s sleeping with Nelly, ‘course you want her gone.” Your eyebrows furrow and your pout deepens but the time you face him. He’s about to take a sip from his beer like it doesn’t matter when you snatch it out of his hand to drown most of it. 

When you’re done you aggressively place it on the table, “what did you mean?”

“Oh, come on!” You snap your fingers once in his face so he can focus on you, causing him to flap his hand to brush yours away, “you’re a bitch when you want to be, you know that? Come on, everyone knows you like Sam.”

“That’s bullshit—”

“Fine, then call Jody and ask her!”

“Dean,” You’re much more stern this time and he actually scoots back to answer.

“Look, it ain’t a secret. You like Sam, he likes you. That’s all.” You shake your head. “I don’t know why he slept with Nelly, okay? Stupid move, you should probably try to talk to him.” With an unspoken and leave me alone. 

Which fine, fuck you Dean, you will be doing exactly that. You look for Sam everywhere only to pass by his room, the last place you’ll be looking, and find an actual fucking purse on the door. Not even a sock, her whole damn purse. What does that mean? She knows it’s supposed to be a sock, right? 

And then you hear it. Her moans. Her “oh, Sam, oh!” And Sam’s grunts, his groans as he pounds into her and “so good, baby.”

God no. You’re a damn hunter, there’s no way you’re tearing up listening to people have sex. You immediately run into your own room to slam the door and fight to brush your feelings. He isn’t doing the one night stand thing, no, Sam is doing the ‘I like you so I’m going to fuck you’ thing. Which means whatever you thought you guys had, or whatever feelings you thought were there, you’d made up. Everything had been in your head. The touches and the kisses on the cheek— all strictly platonic in a ‘i see you as my sister’ way. 

Everytime he leaned down to kiss your cheek you were thinking about spending the night with him while his thoughts were more along the lines of: “love having a little sister”.

And of course it makes sense, why else would he let you stay at the bunker and be so comfortable around you? It’s because he doesn’t care what you think of him. Everything. The past years, every time it’s been a step closer to heartbreak. Every single time you thought you had a chance, you didn’t.

“Hey,” You hear none other than Sam’s knock on your door, shouting your name just loud enough for you to hear him, “you in there?”

“Come in.” You reply and wash your face in the sink quickly before he can notice your red eyes and teared up face. “Hey, Sam.” It comes out naturally with your eyes still shut until you grab the hem of your shirt to dry your face. What’s the point, right? He doesn’t see it that way.

When you open your eyes he’s staring at you. At you, since his eyes are on your body, not face. “Sam? You okay? What did you need?”

“You— I was worried about you. I heard the door slam and I thought something was wrong.” As if the only guy you’ve ever seriously liked not feeling anything towards you isn’t embarrassing enough, now he thinks you’re childish too. 

“No, I’m great. Thanks for checking in. Sorry for interrupting—” Oh shit. You slowly scrunch your face as if that’ll help you disappear. He didn’t even know that you knew that they were together. Wait, does that mean he left her to come check on you? Was she already finished? Was he finished?

“Interrupting what?”

“Your… alone time.”

“I wasn’t alone, don’t worry. But if there’s something wrong you should tell me.” He runs a hand through his hair so it’s out of his face and when you look at him, really look at him, you can see just how incredibly soft his features are. It’s always been such a drastic contrast from how sharp Dean’s are. Sam’s jawline is the only exception but somehow it doesn’t change the overall tone.

“Okay.” You retort quietly. It’s either that or scream at him to leave. “Did you need anything else?”

“Come on—” And then he stops, sighs and shakes his head, “meet us in the library, we’re looking for a hunt.”

“I’ll look for one in here.”

“Seriously, why are you acting like this?” He snaps facing you aggressively. Sam’s always talked with his hands which you found endearing, that and how expressive he is, tone wise and facial expressions too, it helps you read him which calms you down beyond belief, you don’t like to be left out of someone’s thoughts about a situation you’re both in. 

“Like what?”

“Like— I don’t know, bratty!” Bratty? Bratty is what Dean calls Sam. It’s not what Sam calls you.

You grit your teeth, “Fuck you, Sam. Get out.” He storms out like you asked but leaves the door open. Which means when you go to close it you spot Nelly sitting on Sam’s bed, on her phone. 

Naked. And alone. So where did Sam storm off to? The library leaving Nelly alone? You don’t know whether that rubs you the right way or not because on one hand, he left her to come check on you, on the other, he trusts her to stay in his room without supervision. Since when does he trust people two days into knowing them?

Well, the rest of the day doesn’t go any better, because after you see him retreat into his room one more time, you beg Dean to go out with you so you can leave the house to them. He agrees, mostly for your sanity, and you run to your room to get dressed.

Then, and this is completely normal, you stop in front of Sam’s room to see if you can hear anything and thank god you couldn’t. Again, totally normal to check, just in case. So you get dressed, run over to the garage where Dean is sending a quick ‘going out’ text to Sam. You’re both in the car and the second you’re out of the bunker you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Hey, it can’t be that bad.”

“You have no idea how I feel with her in his room the entire day. It’s already three, shouldn’t she have left by now?” Dean chuckles as he takes a sharp turn, away from the road. The only reason cars don’t pop up by the bunker is because it’s a broken down road, unless you take the path the MoL paved in the forest behind it.

“Yeah, she’ll probably be gone by the time we’re back. But you shouldn’t let it bother you so much, don’t let him affect you like this.”

You frown and lean back against the window to face Dean who’s giving his full attention to the rocky road, “what is this, cheap therapy? No way! I am so letting it affect me. I’ve liked Sam for so long and it’s annoying that he’d just— I mean, he could at least hide it. Take it to her room or something, but instead it’s right in my face.”

Dean tries to say something before you cut in, another loud complaint, “Dean, I heard her. Heard.”

“Heard her? Why were you standing outside his room?” You roll your eyes and huff as you throw yourself against the seat. That’s not the point. “You’re letting it get to you and it’s not healthy.”

“Look, I obviously want him to be happy. He deserves it. And if he’s happy with Nelly I would’ve taken my complaints to the grave, but it’s a casual thing considering they’ve known each other for, what, two days?” 

“Yeah, I get what you mean. It’s fine, I’d want you to tell me what you’re thinking anyways. You’re not fun when you bottle things up.” Says the king of it. But you don’t mention that, just grunt when he gets back on the road. “We’re going on a supply run, by the way.”

You nod absentmindedly and get on your phone. You see a message from Sam and your heart immediately seizes up. 

You could’ve talked to me instead of running out.

About what?

Whatever is making you act like this.

Like what?

Bitchy.

If your dropped jaw was anything to go by, Dean knew you were texting Sam. Which is why he snatches the phone from your hand.

“Don’t let it—”

“If you say affect me one more time, Dean Winchester I will fucking—”

“Alright alright, calm down.” And it’s maybe the calmest you’ll get. With the smoke coming out of your ears and your whole face a tomato shade of red.

“No, I just don’t get it!” You say exasperatedly as you get out of the impala and walk with Dean as he unloads the groceries from the trunk.

“Seriously?” You were just talking about a hunt that he’d picked up on and somehow you’d found a way to make it about Sam. “I swear if you don’t tell Sam how you feel I will.” You gasp like he admitted to something much worse and he rolls his eyes, motioning at you to close the trunk since his hands are full and you haven’t bothered offering help. 

“You wouldn’t! He’s happy now with fucking Nelly or whatever. And you know what? I so don’t care.”

“You talk like a twelve year old.”

“You act like one.”

Sam stops you right before you both enter the kitchen, “Alright, children, let’s not fight.” Which makes both of you mock him as you walk past him. 

You can’t help it when the words tumble out of your mouth, “Where’s Nelly?” And you can’t exactly help it when you say her name like that either. 

“Gone. Found a hunt nearby and said to tell you both goodbye.” Oh thank God. Because no matter how confident you act in front of Dean, you were freakin’ terrified he’d actually end up liking her. Sex you can try to write off but keeping her here is more. “Sucks. Seemed like you liked having her around.” You say, giving him your back to put the groceries in their place, mostly just to have something to do with yourself. 

“She’s kind.” Kind your ass. Her moans? Way too exaggerated. She wanted you to know he was with her. Which makes no sense because in the end she’s the one who left and you’re the one who gets to stay. You don’t notice how close Sam is walking towards you until you turn around and he has to hold you so you don’t fall over in surprise, “But she pissed you off.”

You shake your head automatically. He’s standing way too close. Where’s Dean? You look around and— yeah, the asshole’s gone. “You called me a bitch.” Much like all your words, you blurt it. Like you don’t know what’s coming out of your mouth next and you want to make sure you can get all of it out.

“I didn’t. I said you’re acting bitchy. Which you were, and you wouldn’t even tell me why, pretty girl.” That’s a new nickname. ‘Sweetheart’ you’ve heard multiple times, even grown accustomed to. But it’s generic to the Winchesters. It’s what they call anyone with two legs (or four wheels… or a barrel).

“I— I don’t know, she was here and you…” and it comes to you again, forcing you back from his grip. He can’t put you under a trance like that! He fucked another girl, in the room opposite to yours and called you a bitch? No way were you forgiving him. Not without an apology, at least. “You called me a bitch!”

He lets out a small laugh, “I didn’t— whatever, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but you can’t avoid me when you don’t like something.”

“Sleeping with someone to make me jealous? How am I supposed to not ignore you.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you jealous.”

“Well Nelly was! With her— her, loud moans or whatever and she’s so whiny.” She wasn’t. Or if she was, you wouldn’t have heard it, but you’ve already made up your mind about this and there’s no way you’re taking it back now. 

You walk away from him to the library. It’s neutral ground, the kitchen feels like he’ll suffocate you in there. “Come on, she wasn’t trying anything,” he says, walking behind you. Before you reach the steps to the main door he pulls your arm, “stop it. She wasn’t. And I wasn’t either— why would you even be jealous?”

“Why would I— why are you clueless?” Maybe you do talk like a twelve year old when you’re angry, but it doesn’t change the fact that your argument is right. “We— i mean, I thought I was so obvious, Sam! I tried telling you how I felt, I practically all but threw myself onto you and you didn’t even care. And that’s okay, you don’t feel the same way, but don’t get angry at me for wanting to protect myself from—”

Sam Winchester is kissing you, as much of a kiss as anything. He wraps his lips around your top one, pulling you in closer by your waist and you let yourself melt in his grip. He doesn’t seem to mind, pushing you towards the table and you jump to sit on it, he takes a second to pull away and smile at you. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper, out of breath even if it’s only been a few seconds. He seems to recover faster, only to smirk and invade your space again. You let your hands wander in his hair, Sam’s best feature (no matter what Dean says) because you can feel just how soft and velvety it actually is, you run your fingers through it, using it to push him down to you. Even when you’re sitting on the table you’re still a few inches shorter.

“Sam,” you breathe out against his lips, he’s becoming reckless and quick, pulling you and practically carrying you away from the table. “Sam.” He slowly nods, pulling away before leaning in for a another kiss to solidify the others and then he stands up. 

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head, confused. Oh, he’s talking about Nelly. 

“What does that mean? For us.” You ask, your hand coming down to rest on his cheek, as if it’ll make him give you a better answer. An answer that won’t result in your heart breaking because you’ve kissed. You’ve officially felt Sam’s kisses first hand. You can’t go back.

“That I— I want you here, always.” And it says a hell of a lot more than if he’d said he loves you. Because you already know that. You know it no matter how fucked up things get between you. “And I wanted you to see that.”

“I know,” it hurts to think he used Nelly to get to you but maybe it was the push you need. Not that there’s time to think about it because he’s already bringing your waist closer to his, slowly moving his hips against yours. “Sammy,” you let out, your head falling back. “Sam, my room.” 

He smiles like he’s won a prize you didn’t know was on the table before helping you to the ground, only to push you onto the wall right next to it, another deep kiss—

“For fucks sake, Sammy.” You laugh against Sam’s lips as Dean groans, walking into the kitchen. 

title: blowing smoke by gracie abrams

This was a request, hope you liked it! If you wanna be tagged for anything and everything Sam Winchester, comment! Also this is maybe as much smut as I’ll do, I’ll probably go a little further but I didn’t want to for this fix but next one maybe or remedy. Requests are open!

masterlist

[supernaturalscribe67]

Destiny

Words: 7,528

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Male!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Slight Angst (if you squint), Language, Brotherly Drama/Teasing, Sexual Innuendos

Summary: (Y/N) Winchester never thought he would have to play a prominent role in the fight between Michael and Lucifer, but when Gabriel's attempt at convincing Sam and Dean to accept their destiny fails, (Y/N) is left pondering the situation at hand. What happens when Gabriel reveals the truth behind his disappearance from Heaven and his own role in the fight?

Heavily Inspired by S5.8 "Changing Channels"

Request:

Hey!! I was hoping you would be able to do this request.

It could feature hurt/comfort, angst, and fluff :)

Gabriel x Winchester!Reader

He could be trans or cis, up to you.

There was a younger Winchester brother, and with 3 full blooded Winchesters meant of course, a 3rd vessel. Gabriel's vessle. You both aren't keen on the idea of possession and end up falling for each other? Destiny had brought them together for battle but their hearts yearned for something else.

(something along those lines atleast)

:D

@genekies

A/N: I've sat here for the last ten minutes staring at the Summary because my brain is non-existent right now. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this! Sorry it's so late! I also hope you don't mind that I changed the 'younger' Winchester to a middle Winchester~ I enjoyed writing something cute and fluffy after that heavy story I posted! Feedback is appreciated!

~ Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

“Son of a bitch.” 

“It’s him. It’s Doctor Sexy.” 

“Nutcracker!”

“I’ve got genital herpes.”

(Y/N) blamed himself for this. Why he thought any hunt he and his brothers did would be normal was beyond him. When was anything the Winchesters did ever normal?

He could count on one hand the number of times he’d encountered tricksters, none of them pleasant. Still, something about this trickster was different. Slight abnormalities in the realm of possibilities, Sam, Dean, and Castiel all agreed, Castiel seeming to know more than them, but unable to voice his thoughts before being whisked away by said ‘trickster’. From there, the Winchester brothers were tossed from TV show to TV show, enduring humiliation and awkward conversation. It wasn’t until Sam was transformed into the Impala that it clicked. 

It wasn’t a trickster. It was an angel. 

That was how they ended up in an abandoned warehouse, the angel stood in the center of a ring of Holy Fire. (Y/N) tried to hide the exhaustion on his face that resulted from their hectic escapades. What he would kill to go back to their motel, crawl under the scratchy covers, and go to sleep. 

“Where’s you get the Holy Oil?” The angel asked, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips. 

“Well, I guess you could say we pulled it out of Sam’s ass,” Dean replied, straight-faced. 

Sam clenched his jaw and sent a death glare towards him. (Y/N) snickered, earning him the same glare. He pressed his lips together, mumbled a faint ‘sorry’ under his breath, and turned his attention back towards the wannabe trickster. 

The smirk he had vanished. “Where’d I screw up?” He asked. 

“You didn’t,” Sam shook his head. “Nobody gets a jump on Cas like you did.” 

“It was the way you talked about Armageddon,” Dean explained. 

“Meaning?” The angel furrowed his brows. 

“Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they’re talking about their own family.” 

The angel looked away and lowered his head, a silent confirmation of their suspicions. 

“So, which one are you?” Sam cocked his head to the side. “Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?” 

(Y/N) bit the inside of his cheeks, lowering his head to hide the small smile that appeared. Despite the gravity of the situation, he had to admit that Sam’s question was a little funny. He blamed it on him being tired. He was quick to erase the expression off his face before lifting his head. The angel’s gaze shifted over to Sam, and he hesitated for a moment.

“Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.” 

“The archangel?” Sam asked. 

“Guilty.” 

“Okay, Gabriel. How does an archangel become a trickster?” Dean questioned. 

Gabriel shifted. “I consider it my own, private Witness Protection. I skipped out of Heaven, got a face transplant, and carved out my own little corner of the world. Until you three screwed it up,” his tone was full of irritation. 

(Y/N), Sam, and Dean shared a glance, almost as if communicating telepathically with one another - something they had become accustomed to growing up. While they knew significant details about the conflict between the archangels Michael and Lucifer, it seemed, to them, that the situation ran a lot deeper than it originally appeared. 

“So, boys, now what?” Gabriel’s voice broke them out of their trance. “Are we just going to stare at each other for the rest of eternity?” 

Dean licked his lips. ‘Well, first of all, you’re going to bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him.” 

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah, or we’re going to dunk you in some Holy Oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel.” 

Gabriel clenched his jaw, looking over at Sam, then at (Y/N). All of them shared the same serious expression. Poking his tongue into his cheek, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Shuffling could be heard behind the trio as they turned their heads to see a disheveled Castiel. His hair was more ruffled than usual, and a small cut ran across the bridge of his nose. Blood was splattered on the collar of his trenchcoat. He stumbled slightly. 

“Cas, you okay?” (Y/N) asked. 

“I’m fine,” Castiel replied, his icy gaze locked on Gabriel. “Hello, Gabriel.” 

Gabriel lowered his hand, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled tightly. “Hey, bro. How’s the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful,” Gabriel’s tone was harsh. 

The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. It was obvious that there was more going on in Heaven than the Winchesters were led to believe. Multiple sides mean multiple stories. Who knows what really happened? 

“Alright, let’s get out of here. Sam, (Y/N)?” Dean slowly started to step towards the exit. 

Sam was the first to move, while (Y/N) seemed hesitant. In the end, he, too, turned his back on Gabriel and made his way towards his brothers. Castiel soon followed. 

“No,” Gabriel muttered. “Okay…hey, guys, so…” he stumbled over his words. “So what, huh? You’re just, you’re just gonna leave me here forever?” 

When the group reached the door, they all turned back to him. 

“No,” Dean began. “We’re not, because we don’t screw with people the way you do. And, for the record, this isn’t about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can’t be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family.” 

Gabriel opened his mouth, as if to object, but stopped himself. He lowered his head in shame, turning his back to them. Wordlessly, Dean looked back, spotting a fire alarm on the wall. He easily broke the glass surrounding the alarm and pulled the handle. A shrill, faded sound echoed within the broken building. As Gabriel looked up, the aged sprinkler system burst open, showering him with cold water. Gabriel gazed at them, his face filled with defeat. 

“Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you,” Dean called out over the sound of the alarm. 

With that, Sam, Dean, and Castiel turned their backs one last time on Gabriel, walking out of the building. (Y/N), however, stayed put, his eyes locked onto Gabriel’s. He studied the look of hurt on his face, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt. A part of him wanted to say something, to turn around and provide him with some type of comfort. They didn’t know what Gabriel was going through, nor what had caused him to leave Heaven in the first place. Perhaps, all he needed was someone to be there. To allow him to be heard. (Y/N) could relate to that feeling. Alas, as the ring of Holy Fire began to dissipate, over the blaring sound of the alarm, he could hear the faint shout of his older brother calling out his name. (Y/N) looked at the warehouse door, the breeze from the early morning shifting his wetting hair, then back to Gabriel. For a moment, he cast an apologetic look his way before he, swiftly, left the building. 

*~*

A couple of weeks after the incident with Gabriel, (Y/N) couldn’t seem to keep his thoughts at bay. Although his brothers had all since left the interaction behind them, refocusing their attention on their odd hunting jobs, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the reminder of the expression on Gabriel’s face. He had taken the time to carefully consider what Gabriel had been going through, or what he had been through before he had left Heaven. Sure, he wasn’t aware of the extent of it all, but he could sure sympathize with how it felt to be stuck between his brothers during their spats. Sam and Dean never threatened the sanctity of Heaven over their problems, but still. 

(Y/N) had taken many walks since then, because sleep had been so easily unobtainable. On nights when Sam and Dean slept soundly on their motel room beds - or couch, depending on who lost in the coin toss - (Y/N) would slink out of the room into the night. Alternatively, in the morning, if sleep didn’t come after the first walk, he would go on another, ultimately stopping for breakfast on his way back to the motel to appease his brothers. 

Sam and Dean were none the wiser. 

On those walks, his mind would always shift to Gabriel and the predicament he was in. In a way, he disagreed with what Dean had said to Gabriel. But, with everything that was said by Gabriel, himself, he partially agreed with it as well. Why was Gabriel so adamant about Sam and Dean allowing Lucifer and Michael to take possession of them for a fight that he wasn’t even willing to fight himself? He felt so in the dark about the whole debacle. Although he wasn’t directly involved in it, he was still interested to know what the fate of his brothers could be. It was thoughts and questions like those that kept his mind racing in the early hours of the morning, making him unable to get an adequate amount of sleep. 

That night was no different. The three of them had traveled to a town along the East Coast, following the clues of a possible Wendigo. The case had just started, and the interviews and clues left much to be desired. They weren’t even close to pinpointing the approximate area in the nearby woodland where it could reside. Sam and Dean were running thin, and (Y/N) was no help. Not with the way his mind had been racing lately. It wasn’t like he could help it, though. He tried, he did, and a part of him couldn’t see how Sam and Dean were able to concentrate whilst everything was going on in Heaven. He had always envied them for their sense of focus, something he lacked greatly at times. When he started the walks, clearing his mind was his initial goal, but going out on his own, in the dead of night, only seemed to make his thoughts louder. 

The town was small, and barely had much of a park, just some cheap playground equipment that looked as if it needed to be updated and a small trail. (Y/N) was thankful for the benches that were laid along the path. Despite the park’s size, it had a beautiful view; a full panoramic of the deep, dark ocean past craggy cliffs, cut off by a steel fence. The ocean was loud and, despite the distance from the land to the sea, mist sprayed (Y/N)’s face faintly, painting his features with minuscule water droplets. He had worn a jacket that night. Even though it was surprisingly hot during the day, as soon as the sun dropped, the temperatures did as well. 

(Y/N) had been sat on the bench for close to an hour. If he had to guess, it was nearly midnight. Not once had he been able to keep Gabriel out of his mind. Gabriel, the fight, Sam, and Dean, all took turns at the forefront of his brain, but Gabriel won most of the time. He always drifted to the sad, kicked puppy-dog look he had before he left. He couldn’t imagine what Gabriel had to go through. (Y/N) thought Sam and Dean were impossible to be with all the time, but he couldn’t fathom being near Michael and Lucifer as much as Gabriel must have. He must have been quite burnt out. 

“Do you mind if I sit here?” A voice jerked (Y/N) from his train of thought. 

(Y/N) jumped, eyes wide as he looked towards the direction of the voice. Stood, about a foot away from the bench, was Gabriel. His expression was soft, his brown hair partially damp, the locks illuminated slightly by the nearby street lamp. Once his heart rate began to return to normal, (Y/N) nodded and gestured towards the empty seat next to him. 

“Sure,” he mumbled. 

With a short nod, Gabriel shuffled over and sat down, leaning against the back of the bench. His legs were slightly spread and his hands were clasped together in his lap. For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, listening to the sound of the crashing waves from below. Even though Gabriel had done so much to the Winchesters as a part of his trickster ‘Witness Protection’, (Y/N) didn’t feel any resentment towards him, nor did he feel agitation, even with his proximity. A part of him thought he should be, that was how Dean would react, at least. Shouldn’t he be at least a little bit pissed? Perhaps it was the weeks of thinking, working the idea into his head that he and Gabriel could, potentially, have more in common than he originally thought. It could be that he was more forgiving than his brother. In the end, (Y/N) chalked it up to him being a great judge of character. 

“How did you find me?” (Y/N) broke the silence. 

“What?” Gabriel asked. 

“How did you find me? These symbols, or whatever, Cas put on my ribs were supposed to stop angels from being able to find me. Or did he just tattoo my ribs for nothing?” 

Gabriel let out a faint chuckle and shook his head. “I admit, you were hard to find. All I did, though, was follow the sound of your prayers. They were quieter than most, but they were still noticeable.” 

(Y/N) looked over at Gabriel, confused. “Prayers? I didn’t pray to you.” 

“I guess not technically. I know that wasn’t your intention half the time, but, every time you thought of me, asked those questions, made those statements, it was as if you did.” 

(Y/N) pursed his lips and gave a faint nod. “I see…”

They were, once again, engulfed in silence as they stared out onto the water. No one said anything. Surprisingly, it was peaceful.

“I guess I should be asking why you found me. Why are you here, Gabriel?” (Y/N) asked. 

Gabriel hesitated for a moment, fumbling with his fingers. “Look, I’m not good at this sort of thing, but…” he trailed. “I thought I should come here and apologize. For everything.” 

(Y/N) looked over at Gabriel as he placed his hands into his jacket pockets and leaned back against the bench. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Sam and Dean, too?” 

Gabriel snorted. “Are you kidding? Those two would probably stab me before I even had the chance to say anything.” 

(Y/N) smirked. “I guess you’re right. The fact that you were practically hounding them to accept being Michael and Lucifer’s vessels doesn’t help your case either.” 

“Yeah, I realized that I probably went about it the wrong way.” 

“Probably?” 

“Okay, I definitely went about it the wrong way.” 

“That’s putting it lightly.” (Y/N) mumbled. “Why the fight, Gabriel? I mean, why now?” 

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. “Michael and Luci have been going at it for centuries. Even before this fight, they were at each other’s throats half the time.” he began to rub his fingers together. “But, this fight…it wasn’t originally supposed to only be those two.” 

(Y/N) furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” Gabriel stuttered before he stood up. Slowly, he began to pace back and forth in front of (Y/N), looking between the ground and his hands. “You know what it’s like, right? Your brothers are arguing about the dumbest things and they’ve been going at it for a while, getting a little carried away, so you have to step in and, um,” 

“Be the mediator?” 

“Yeah! You have to try and calm them down so they don’t kill each other?” 

“Well, yeah, I’ve had to do that plenty of times with Sam and Dean.” 

“Right. Back then, I had to do the same thing with Michael and Luci. Sometimes it worked, and other times, not so much. With this fight, that’s what I was supposed to do.” 

“Wait, this fight that they want to use Sam and Dean for? How’re you supposed to mediate that?” 

“I was just supposed to make sure they didn’t actually kill each other. Try to get them to talk it out. I’ve always been good at that, so it would only make sense that I would take a crack at it this go around. However, since they would be at their full power in their vessels, the last thing that needed to happen was for them to turn on me, kill me, and then each other. So, to make sure I had enough power, I, also, have to have a vessel.” 

Gabriel stopped pacing in front of him and finally faced him, his hands together in front of him. (Y/N) stared at him intently, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was as if Gabriel could see the gears working in his mind. If Michael needed a vessel, which was Dean, and Lucifer needed a vessel, which was Sam, then, that meant…

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Am I your vessel?” He breathed. 

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Gabriel smirked, although it wasn’t as confident as the one he had when he was covered by his trickster persona. 

(Y/N)’s mouth sat agape. He was gobsmacked. His lips moved up and down as he tried to form words, but his mind nor mouth would work. It all made sense, though. Why would Sam and Dean be the only vessels? Why had he never considered that he, too, was destined to be one? It was clear as glass, yet, the thought never crossed his mind. 

“You know, when you think about it, it kind of makes sense that you’re my vessel. I mean, you’re the mediator, I’m the mediator. You’re the middle child, I’m practically the middle child. There are, actually, a lot of similarities between you and me. So, it was a great pick,” Gabriel rambled, placing his hands on his hips.

(Y/N) help his hand up. “Gabriel, just…stop.” 

Gabriel looked down and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he pursed his lips. 

(Y/N) sat there and attempted to wrap his head around the whole situation. His thoughts were foggy and the front of his head was starting to pound. He reached his hands up and began to massage his temples. 

“So, what you’re saying,” (Y/N) let out a breathy chuckle. “Is that you, the archangel Gabriel, are supposed to use me as a mediator for your two power-hungry brothers who, may I remind you, are also archangels?” 

Slowly, Gabriel nodded. “Basically.” 

“And you think this is a good idea?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“What?” 

Gabriel sighed. “Look,” He returned to his spot on the bench next to (Y/N), his body now facing him. “The times when my mediation did work was when they had their smaller fights. Little bickers here and there. When Michael and Luci are really, really mad at each other, nothing can get between them. So, most likely, what would happen is I would need to get involved in the fight to stop them.” 

“Oh, God,” (Y/N) grumbled and placed his face into his hands.

“But, believe me, that is the last thing I want to do. I mean, Michael and Luci, they’re both strong on their own, but, if they were to team up against me for trying to stop them, even with you as my vessel, I don’t stand a chance. It would be two against one.” 

(Y/N) just nodded, running his hands down his face, his gaze returning to the cool, pounding waves. A chill ran down his spine. He hadn’t realized how cold he had gotten, what with the mix of wind and misty air.

“Why are you telling me this now?” He asked quietly. “Why wasn’t I told any of this before?” 

“Well, when I went off the grid, everyone just assumed that it was my way of backing out of the fight. In a way, I guess they were right.” 

“And back at the warehouse? Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I still had no intention of joining the fight. However, after what Dean had said to me…” Gabriel shook his head. “I realized that he was right. I am a coward. I tried to push your brothers into accepting their roles as vessels because I want this fight to be done and over with. I just wish the fight didn’t have to happen. I figured it would be wrong if I didn’t tell you now. You deserve to know.” 

“Well, I appreciate that. And, for the record, I don’t want this fight to happen either. The last thing I want is my brothers to get involved in something that has nothing to do with them.”

“The fight’s gonna happen one way or another, and I thought getting your brothers to go along would be the best way to go about it. Once I listened to your prayers, though, I realized how it would affect you. I know you wouldn’t want to lose either one of your brothers, even though they can be assholes sometimes.” 

(Y/N) snorted. “Like you’re one to talk.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, unlike your brothers, mine can be caring and nice when they want to be.” 

“Believe it or not, Michael and Luci both have the capability of being nice! I witnessed it firsthand.” 

“Bullshit!” 

“It’s not! Granted, they were a whole lot nicer when they were fledglings, kind of got a little rocky as they got older, but they could still be nice!” 

“Wait, wait, wait, fledglings?” 

“Yeah.”

“What’re fledglings?” 

“Newborn angels.”

“So…baby angels?” 

“In a sense,” Gabriel shrugged. A mischievous smirk then appeared at the corner of his lips. “Do you want to hear some embarrassing stories about when Michael and Luci were younger?” 

“Of course I do,” (Y/N) sat back, turning his body to face Gabriel as well. 

“Okay, but, in return, you have to tell me some embarrassing stories about your brothers.”

(Y/N) bit his lip as he contemplated the offer. Finally, he smirked. “Deal.” 

For the next while, Gabriel and (Y/N) went back and forth, sharing their embarrassing stories from their abnormal families. They joked, laughed, and, overall, had a good time. Not only did it lighten the mood from the bombshell Gabriel had dropped, but it allowed them to grasp a basic understanding of their past and present lives. 

There were a few things (Y/N) learned throughout their conversation. One; Gabriel and his brothers shared some scary similarities with the Winchesters in regards to mannerisms and attitudes. Two; Gabriel could talk for a millenia if he was given the opportunity. And three; (Y/N) felt oddly calm around Gabriel. It hadn’t even struck him how easily Gabriel was able to shift the conversation as smoothly as he did. (Y/N) wasn’t too sure how he could feel that way around him. As they sat there and talked, after everything that was said, and after everything that happened with the warehouse incident - he’ll never forget the nutcracker - he couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of comfort around him. There was something about Gabriel that filled (Y/N) with a sense of peace and belonging, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it as to why that was. 

It wasn’t like he was complaining, though. 

They talked until the moon sat near the far end of the sky. Unbeknownst to them, the two had begun to scoot closer to one another as the conversation continued, getting to the point where their knees and shoulders were touching. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. Neither of them pulled away out of instinct. It felt right. It felt natural. 

Gabriel droned on and on about, yet, another story when Lucifer was a young angel. He seemed to have more stories about him than he did of Michael. (Y/N) was quite the opposite. He had more stories about Dean than he did with Sam. Both of them laughed as Gabriel tried his best to continue. 

“So - so Dad got angry because Lucifer kept letting the bugs out of their sanctuary, and -” Gabriel looked over at (Y/N), and his smile vanished. 

(Y/N) glanced up at him, noticing the change of demeanor instantly. His smile, too, disappeared. “Is something wrong?” 

As he kept his eye on him, Gabriel reached up and gently brushed his thumb against (Y/N)’s bottom lip. (Y/N) felt his cheeks heat up and his brows furrow in confusion. 

“Your lips are blue,” Gabriel stated. He glanced up at the sky and his brows shot up. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize we had been out here so long.” Gabriel sat up. 

“How long how we been out here?” (Y/N) dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. 

3:27 AM

“Oh shit,” he mumbled as he quickly stood up. 

His legs and ass were completely numb, causing him to sway at the rapid movement. Gabriel was by his side in an instant, hands on his shoulders to steady him. They had been out together for, close to, four hours. No wonder (Y/N)’s lips were blue. He shivered, teeth chattering lightly. Once (Y/N) was able to stand on his own, Gabriel took off his jacket and draped it over (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N) shook his head. 

“Oh, no, Gabriel, it’s okay. I just need to get back to the motel.” He stuttered tiredly. 

“I’m the reason you were out here for so long. Consider it a, um, token of my appreciation for talking to me,” Gabriel smiled sweetly.

(Y/N) returned the smile. “Well, thank you for keeping me company.” 

“Let me take you back to the motel.” 

“No. If Sam and Dean see you, they’ll kill you and then me.”

“Then I won’t let them see me.”

Without another word, Gabriel reached up and pressed his index and middle fingers against (Y/N)’s forehead. (Y/N) inhaled shakily and closed his eyes. One second, he was standing in the park, then, the next, he and Gabriel were standing in front of the Winchester’s motel room. He breathed a sigh of relief once he saw the faded numbers etched onto the door. 

“Thank you,” he smiled and retrieved the key from his pocket. 

“Anytime. And, uh, if you ever feel the need to talk again under better weather conditions, feel free to pray. When the prayers are sent directly to me, it’s a lot easier for me to hear.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Now go warm up.”

(Y/N) flashed Gabriel one last smile as he turned the key to the room and opened the door. Gabriel vanished. 

Moonlight pooled in through the cracked door as (Y/N) crept into the room. He felt the warmth flood his face and hands as he entered. Despite the heavy jacket he had gone out with, having spent hours in the windy, misty park, he was bound to get cold eventually. He didn’t think he would get that cold, though.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see Sam sleeping soundly on his stomach, face nuzzled against the cheap pillow, and Dean sprawled out on the couch, legs and arms spread in uncomfortable positions that he would undoubtedly complain about the next day, mouth slightly open, and drool coating his chin and pillow. (Y/N) was thankful for his stealth ability.

Slowly, he made his way over to the unoccupied bed and crawled underneath the covers. Not bothering to change his clothes or take off his shoes, he nestled into the thick - yet somehow extremely thin - comforter. His eyes closed as soon as his head hit the pillow.

*~*

That was the best night’s sleep he had gotten in ages. 

Well, it would have been, had he not been awoken by a flying pillow to the face.

(Y/N) groaned as he opened his eyes ever so slightly. The sunlight beamed in through the window, caressing his skin, and he hated it. He glanced tiredly in the direction that the pillow came from and found Dean with an amused grin spread across his lips.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Dean greeted.

“Fuck off,” (Y/N) grunted as he grabbed the pillow and chucked it lazily back at him. He missed terribly. 

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Sam teased as he sat a cup of steaming coffee on the nightstand next to (Y/N).

“Thanks,” he mumbled and sat up. “And I just got a pillow thrown at my face, am I supposed to jump for joy and sing Kumbaya?” 

“Are you sure it’s the pillow and has nothing to do with you getting back so late?” Dean quirked a brow.

(Y/N) went to reach for the coffee cup, but stopped himself. He glanced at Dean, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?” 

“Well, one, you’re wearing the exact same thing you were wearing yesterday, plus you wore your shoes to bed. Two, I heard you getting back last night,”

“Bullshit. You were passed out.”

“Do you realize how loud you stumbled in? I’m surprised Sammy didn’t wake up because of it. My third point, though,” Dean pointed down to his brother’s chest. “That’s not your jacket. So…did you get lucky?” 

(Y/N) looked down at himself and his brows raised. He was still wearing Gabriel’s jacket. He had been so tired and cold last night that he had completely forgotten to take it off or even give it back. He reached up and played with the collar gently. He had to remember to thank Gabriel for giving it to him.

Oh, wait, prayers! Thank you for the jacket, Gabriel!

“Well?” Dean pressed.

“Huh?” (Y/N) looked over at him. 

“Did you get lucky?” 

(Y/N) snorted. “If I got lucky, do you think I would be here right now?”

“Not unless it was bad.”

“Would that mean I still got ‘lucky’ if it was bad? What kind of luck is that?” 

“You’re dodging the question.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “No, Dean, I didn’t get lucky.”

“Then who’d you meet?” Sam asked.

“Why does it matter?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Because you’re smiling,” Dean pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. “And you don’t smile like that normally. It’s kind of freaky.”

“Oh, fuck off, Dean,”

(Y/N) hadn’t even realized he had been smiling, but he could hear it in his voice. Dean was right, it had been ages since he had smiled like that. His cheeks were starting to hurt. He reached over, took a sip of his coffee, then put it down. He stood up from his spot on the bed and stretched his aching muscles.

“So,” Dean pursed his lips. “Who was it?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you, Dean?”

“Nope,” Dean popped.

(Y/N) shook his head. “It was just this guy that I met at the bar. He bought me a drink, we sat and talked and, when the bar closed, we went to the nearest park and continued our talk.”

Dean’s smirk faltered and was replaced with a frown. “That’s it? You just…talked?” 

“Yeah,” (Y/N) shrugged.

“You’re more boring than Sam,”

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed.

“What do you want me to say, Dean? ‘I found this guy at the bar, we went to the park, I gave him head, he gave me a twenty, said ‘no homo’, and walked away’?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Well, that would have been a hell of a lot more entertaining than ‘we just talked’.”

(Y/N) waved him off. “Whatever,” he mumbled, then kicked his shoes off.

Sam took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable. We’re gonna go look for that Wendigo.”

“I’m taking a shower before we go, so…” (Y/N) stuck his tongue out at Sam.

Sam smirked and shook his head as (Y/N) gathered some of his clothes from his duffel bag. Without another word, he vanished into the bathroom.

*~*

(Y/N) was sick for a week after that. As it turns out, cold air and wet hair don’t necessarily mix well. At first, he tried to push through it, but fatigue and a sore throat caught up to him and left him on research duty for the duration of the Wendigo hunt. During that time, whenever Sam and Dean were out looking for clues, leaving him alone in the stuffy motel room, he would pray to Gabriel. Gabriel would be quick to respond.

The two would sit and talk for hours, idle chit-chat here and there, and would always seem to dance around the topic of the fight one way or another. Those talks continued well after (Y/N) felt better and the Wendigo hunt concluded. (Y/N) resumed his nightly walks, and Gabriel would accompany him. In the mornings, when Sam and Dean would occasionally catch onto (Y/N)’s disappearing acts, he would play it off as a spontaneous trip to the local bar scene, fabricating stories about meeting a dreamy man he would talk to or go back to his place. It wasn’t a complete lie, so he didn’t feel as bad when he told them. 

As the months went on, (Y/N) could feel himself growing fonder of Gabriel. It was a strong feeling. Is that what love felt like? He could only assume. Yet, the feeling was more than that. He felt connected to him in a much stronger sense of the word. A spiritual sense, perhaps? He couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause of those feelings, but the last thing he was going to do was fight himself on them, despite how obvious it was that his brothers would disapprove of his relationship with Gabriel. That’s what secrets were for. He had gone long enough without telling them, what’s a couple more months or years?

Whenever they were together, (Y/N) felt whole, as if a lost piece of a puzzle he didn’t even know he had found its way to him. When he was with his brothers, or by himself, he found his mind constantly shifting to thoughts of Gabriel. Of what they would talk about, of Gabriel’s smile, of the way his stomach would turn whenever they stood or sat close to one another. He would crave his presence, desperate to hear the sound of his voice. It was killing him, slowly, from the inside out, and he knew if he didn’t say anything soon, he would combust. He had to tell Gabriel his feelings.

One thing he loved about small towns was the lack of artificial lights. Sure, there were dull street lamps scattered around that looked as if they needed to be changed years ago, but the absence of skyscrapers and people, overall, meant not much was needed to illuminate the roads. Locals knew them like the back of their hand anyway. With the minimal light, almost anywhere in town, you could see the stars that decorated the night sky. If you wanted, you could pick out each constellation. Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper were rather prominent that night.

There were several smaller parks in town, but the biggest sat in the middle of downtown. It wasn’t used as a children’s area as much as a casual gathering ground. (Y/N) could imagine dogs in the grass and elderly couples walking arm-in-arm during the daylight hours. By night, it was abandoned, the distant sound of country music playing from the only local bar. It was the perfect place for him and Gabriel to meet.

They sat on a bench in the middle of the park, heads tilted back as they stared at the stars. Their sides and legs were pressed together, and, for the first time in a while, they said nothing. Normally, their meetings were filled with lively conversation from the moment they saw each other to the moment they parted. (Y/N) had to wonder if Gabriel could tell that he wanted to have a serious discussion. Perhaps he had a lot on his mind. Or, perhaps, Gabriel was too busy reading (Y/N)’s to say anything. Regardless, they had been sat there for close to half an hour without as much as a single word to each other. (Y/N) knew just sitting there wasn’t going to do any good. He had to bite the bullet and say something. 

“Gabriel?” He started, his voice coming out small and quiet.

Gabriel hummed. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,”

(Y/N) hesitated. “Well, first of all, I just wanted to say that I like spending time with you.” He began to fiddle with his fingers. “And I don’t want what I’m about to ask to make our meetings stop.”

“Honestly, I think, at this point, the only thing that you can ask to make our meetings stop is ‘Hey, can our meetings stop?’.”

(Y/N) chuckled lightly. “Gabe, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he smirked.

“Well, um…” he paused. “Do you ever feel like we’re connected in other ways?”

Gabriel furrowed his brows. He turned his body to face (Y/N), rested his elbow on the back of the bench, and placed his cheek into his hand. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. I mean, it feels like…more.”

Gabriel studied (Y/N)’s face, noticing his lack of eye contact. He stayed quiet for a moment, and (Y/N) could feel the anxiety building inside of him. He knew he did a piss poor job at explaining what he meant, but it was the best he could come up with. Slowly, Gabriel smirked.

“You have a crush on me, don’t you?” He teased.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened and the heat rose to his cheeks. He glanced over at Gabriel, then back down at his lap. 

“I, well…I’m not…I- that’s not the point, okay!?” (Y/N) shook his head. “The point is that it doesn’t feel like just a crush to me. It feels like an even deeper connection than that. Like something about our souls and- nevermind, this just sounds stupid,” his shoulders deflated in defeat.

Gabriel waved his hands and shook his head. “Hey, hey, it’s not stupid, alright? I get what you’re saying. You feel as if we’re connected by something other than you just being my vessel.”

(Y/N) nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, exactly.”

“I feel it, too.”

“You do?”

“I mean, yeah,” Gabriel folded his hands in his lap. “I felt that when we first saw each other, even before the warehouse. Then, everything with your brothers happened, and we met again, and, still,  I felt that connection.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought I was looking too hard into it. I started thinking that, maybe, the connection was all in my head. That it was, truly, just our connection by you being my vessel. When Dean said what he did about me being too afraid to face my family, I thought no one would understand my point of view on the fight. What I’ve had to go through being related to Michael and Lucifer. Then, you started to pray to me, and I knew that you understood me. That’s what made me come find you in the first place. Once we were alone, I felt this sense of…peace. I hate to admit it, but I feel like I can barely go a single day without wanting to see you. Without needing to see you. I knew it was more at that point.”

(Y/N)’s eyes were on Gabriel as he listened intently to what he was saying. He shook his head. “I feel the same way. It’s almost as if, I don’t know, I can’t breathe when you’re not around.”

“Well, please don’t stop on my account.”

“Stop it, we’re having a serious moment,” (Y/N) slapped his arm.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gabriel smirked. “I mean, as cliche as it sounds, it feels, almost as if we were meant for each other, right? Like we were meant to be together? Almost as if it was more than you being my vessel that bought us together.”

Gabriel reached over and grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, rubbing the side of it gently with his thumb. (Y/N) looked into Gabriel’s eyes, and he felt his heart soar. He reached up and caressed his cheek before they both leaned in, their lips fitting together perfectly in a sweet, loving kiss. Their eyes closed, and they both melted into a deep, sensual embrace. Almost immediately, all of the stress and worry seemingly melted away, replaced with a sense of belonging. A sense of closeness.

When they pulled back, they looked into each other’s eyes once more. A small smile creased the corner of (Y/N)’s lips.

“You’re right, it is pretty cheesy.” He whispered, his thumb tracing circles around Gabriel’s cheekbone.

Gabriel cocked a brow. “I thought we were having a serious conversation. Why do you get to make quips?”

“It’s kind of hard not to when I’m around you.” (Y/N) pressed his forehead against Gabriel’s.

Gabriel chuckled. “I guess I’m rubbing off on you, aren’t I?” He moved his hands to (Y/N)’s hips.

“I don’t see that as a bad thing.”

They sat together and enjoyed the peaceful quiet of their embrace. (Y/N) never felt more relaxed in his entire life, and he wanted to savor every moment he had with Gabriel.

Then, his mind started to drift. Drift to the fight, the battle between Michael and Lucifer, and to Sam and Dean. Gabriel had done such a good job at keeping him distracted from all the chaos that surrounded him that he hadn’t even had a chance to consider what could happen with the fight now that he and Gabriel were involved. Neither of them wanted to participate in the fight, but what would happen if they didn’t? Who would win? Would he lose one, or possibly both, of his brothers? If they did get involved in the fight, was there a possibility that he and Gabriel would lose each other? Did they even stand a chance to win against Michael and Lucifer if things were to turn ugly? Was there a chance that he could lose Gabriel even without being in the fight itself?

Gabriel reached a hand up and ran his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair soothingly. He pressed a small kiss to the corner of his lips. “Your thoughts are being really loud, Sugarplum.” He whispered. 

(Y/N) broke from his trance and shook his head lightly. “I’m sorry, it’s just…with the fight,” (Y/N) looked away briefly. “I don’t want to lose Sam and Dean, but now that I have you, I don’t want to lose you either.”

Gabriel gave him a sympathetic look as he pulled him close. “I know. This whole thing is one giant mess. I wish none of it had to happen. But I’m going to be with you every step of the way, I promise.”

(Y/N) shook his head. “You can’t promise me that. Knock on wood.”

“What?” Gabriel chuckled.

“I don’t want you to have just jinxed yourself, now knock on wood.”

Gabriel smirked as he rasped his knuckles against the wooden bench three times. “Better?”

“A little,” (Y/N) mumbled and nuzzled his cheek against Gabriel’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll feel better until this fight is over.”

Gabriel wrapped his arms tightly around him. “How about this? I promise to do everything in my power to keep you distracted. That way, you’re not too stressed out.”

(Y/N) pursed his lips in thought. “Not too distracted, though. I had practically forgotten about the fight until now, and I still need to stay on my toes.”

“How about I distract you just enough to keep your mind off of it?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Well then, Sugarplum, how do you propose I keep you distracted?”

“You can start by kissing me again,”

“Oh, I can do more than kissing,” Gabriel mused in a suggestive tone and wiggled his brows.

(Y/N) slapped his chest. “Perv,” he grumbled. “Let’s just start with kissing.”

“Taking it slow, I like your style,” Gabriel nuzzled his nose against (Y/N)’s.

(Y/N) smiled widely. “Then shut up and kiss me already.”

Without another word, Gabriel leaned down, capturing (Y/N)’s lips in a deep kiss. Just like that, all of his problems dissipated, and it felt as if he was floating. The park didn’t exist anymore, nor the stumbling locals who left the bar periodically. There were no stars, no more beautiful night sky. The only two things that existed were Gabriel and (Y/N). They were complete. They were strong. They were one. It felt as if nothing in Heaven, Hell, or in between could tear them apart. 

And everything was as it should be.

[fatecantstopme]

Not Yours to Take

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: In which Dean begs Castiel to take away your memories of him to keep you safe.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names, canon violence.

A/N: Told from Dean's perspective. Shares some similarities to Cass taking Lisa and Ben's memories.

"Absolutely not," I said angrily.

"Dean...come on. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself on a hunt. You know that," she responded calmly.

"This isn't a normal hunt, (Y/N). I don't want you anywhere near it."

"I don't care. I'm not letting you go alone!"

"I've hunted alone hundreds of times, I'll be fine."

"You just said this isn't a normal hunt. Going alone is a suicide mission. Hell, the whole damn thing could be a trap."

"Exactly!" I yelled. "So why would I put you in danger like that?"

"Our lives are dangerous! We choose to keep fighting every damn day, no matter the cost--why should this be any different?"

"Because I can't lose you!"

She stared at me quietly, sadness etched onto her beautiful face. "Dean..."

"No--don't look at me like that. With Sam...with Sam gone, it's just you and me. You're all I have."

She sighed. "You still have Cass."

I shook my head. "He's never around anymore. Too busy with whatever angel business he's got going on."

"There's no one else to call," she said softly.

I knew she was right--hell, I knew I shouldn't do this alone, but that didn't mean I was going to risk her life. I crossed the short distance between us and gently touched her cheek. "I shouldn't have yelled...but my mind is made up. I need you to stay here."

She looked defeated as her pretty (y/e/c) eyes met mine. I hated seeing that look on her face, but I would rather have her alive and angry at me than dead.

"Fine," she murmured. "Just--for the love of God, be careful."

"Careful is my middle name, darlin'," I joked.

She rolled her eyes. "'Reckless' is more accurate."

I grinned as I placed a soft kiss to her lips. "I'll be back by midnight, okay? I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Dean Winchester."

"I'm coming back, (Y/N)," I said softly. I turned away from her to grab my jacket and my bag, unable to look at her any longer. She was scared for my life and she had every right to be...

We'd been hearing rumblings in the last several months of a supernatural hit that had been placed on my life. Basically every monster was out to get me--I'd become the hunted. I wished Sam was here every day, but he was one more person I couldn't save. I would be damned if (Y/N) was added to that list.

I started to walk out the motel room door when I heard her inhale a shaky breath. I couldn't look at her--couldn't bare to see the worry in her eyes--so I turned my head back in her direction, but my eyes were trained on the floor. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Dean," she whispered.

I walked out the door without looking back, knowing there was no way I would leave if I looked at her.

**********

I made my way to an old abandoned farmhouse just outside of town. We knew there were reports of a demon infestation of some kind. Our intel indicated this was the demons' home base. I had this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, which intensified the closer I got, but I did my best to ignore it.

I opted to park the Impala about a half mile away to keep the demons from hearing me coming. I walked the rest of the way, staying off the main road.

When the farmhouse finally came into view, I noticed it was completely dark. It didn't look like anyone was home. As I crept closer, I continued to see signs of abandonment and disrepair. There were no indications that anyone--human or not--had been there in a long time.

That feeling in my gut crept back up and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My hunter's instinct told me something was very wrong and I would be wise to listen to it.

Suddenly, my phone began to buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out and the screen lit up with (Y/N)'s name. A sense of worry came over me and I answered without hesitation. "Hey baby, you okay?"

I heard muffled sounds on the other end of the phone and my heart began to beat faster. "Babe?"

I listened more closely and I heard what could only be described as sounds of a struggle. I felt a wave of panic wash over me and my grip on the phone tightened. "(Y/N) answer me!" I yelled.

I started running back towards the car, not giving a damn if someone saw or heard me. Whatever was happening to (Y/N) was happening back at the motel--so that was where I needed to be.

I wasn't more than 100 meters from the car when I heard a terrifying sound that cut me straight to the bone. It was clearly a woman's cry of pain--and I knew in an instant it was (Y/N)'s voice.

"(Y/N)!" I yelled into the phone as I ripped open the driver's door of the car and slid in. "(Y/N/N), answer me, please!"

The engine roared to life and I took off in the direction of the motel. There was nothing but silence on the other end of the phone and terror had begun wrapping its icy tendrils around my heart. "Baby, please..." I whispered, not expecting a response.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N) can't come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?" an unfamiliar voice said through the phone.

"Who the hell is this and where is (Y/N)?" I asked angrily.

"She's right here, but she's a little--unconscious--at the moment." The voice chuckled. "Who I am is really not important. All you need to know is I'm here to collect on a bounty."

My foot pressed down harder on the gas and I tried to control my breathing. "Look here you son of a bitch. If you hurt her, I swear to God, I will kill you and everything you have ever loved."

The voice chuckled once more. "The famous Dean Winchester bravado. I had a feeling I would like you."

I had already assumed he knew who I was, but with my suspicions confirmed, my fear for (Y/N) only increased. "I'm the one you want, so why don't you leave her out of this."

"You know, I would, but you've been a very hard man to track down. I figured going after the person you love most would just make my job easier. Now, you'll come right to me."

I knew there was no point in arguing. The panic in my voice when I was yelling for (Y/N) had already made it very clear how I feel about her. "If I hand myself over, you'll let her go?"

There were a few beats of silence before the man responded. "I will agree to those terms."

"Good. I'll be there in 20 minutes."

I hung up the phone and continued to speed towards the motel. I had a feeling that whatever this creature was that had (Y/N) wouldn't have any qualms about ignoring the terms of our deal. I couldn't just go in there and hand myself over, but I also couldn't go in guns blazing. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm not suicidal.

I exhaled heavily, mind set on what I needed to do. I didn't want to--I didn't even know if he'd respond, but I didn't have any other choice.

"Castiel," I said aloud. "I, uhh--I could really use your help here."

All I could hear was the roar of the car's engine.

"Come on, Cass--I know you're busy, but this is important. I'm not praying to you just for fun."

Still nothing.

"Damnit, Cass! It's (Y/N). I need you, man. Please." I hated begging, but desperate times and all that...

"I'm here Dean."

I jumped slightly as Castiel appeared in the seat beside me. "I know I called you, but it's freaky as hell when you do that."

"Sorry," he said simply. "You said this was important?"

"Some asshole kidnapped (Y/N) and I need your help."

"Why would someone kidnap (Y/N)?"

"Oh, I don't know Cass--maybe it's because I have a goddamn bounty on my ass!" I said sarcastically.

"I see. They're using (Y/N) to get to you."

"Good job. Now we're all caught up," I grumbled. "I don't know what we're dealing with, but my money is on a demon--probably a group of demons."

"I can see why you called me."

I shot him an annoyed glance, but didn't comment on his statement. "I left her at the motel thinking she'd be safer there--I never thought one of these monsters would come after her to get to me."

"It's not your fault, Dean."

I was surprised he said that--because it was definitely completely my fault. If I had just let her come with me, she wouldn't be in this situation. "Then who's fault is it, Cass?"

The angel remained silent. I sighed and focused my attention back on the road. "We're about 15 minutes out."

"Do you have a plan?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Yeah...it's not a great plan, but it's all I got."

**********

"You're right, that's a terrible plan," Cass commented.

"You got a better one?" When he didn't respond, I continued. "Didn't think so."

"We have no idea how many of them there are."

"I'm aware of that, Cass."

"Just making sure."

"Just...poof out of here so they don't see you. This only works if they think I'm alone."

I could tell he didn't like the idea of me walking into a trap by myself, but we really didn't have another option. When I glanced back over to the passenger seat a moment later, he was gone.

I took a deep breath. "God I really hope this works..."

**********

Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of the motel. I looked around and spotted at least five people milling about outside, all trying to look like they weren't focused on me.

I got out of the car and started walking to the room, heart hammering in my chest. I had salt and holy water in my pockets, and an angel blade tucked into my waistband. I was as prepared as I could possibly be on such short notice.

When I reached the door, I turned the handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. As I stepped inside, my eyes scanned the room as quickly as possible. There were at least four demons in the room and (Y/N) was tied to a chair in the center.

"Dean! So nice of you to join us," one of them said. It was the same voice I had spoken to on the phone.

"I'm here, as promised. So why don't you just let her go."

The demon's eyes flashed black and he gave me a dark smile. "Oh please...you didn't actually think I was going to let her go, did you?"

My jaw tightened and I felt anger bubbling beneath the surface of my skin. While I hadn't assumed he would let her go, I really didn't like hearing it.

"I warned you, you son of a bitch," I ground out. My eyes flicked over to (Y/N)'s unconscious form and I took note of the obvious injuries. God only knew what they'd done to her before I got here.

"Yes, yes, murder, blah, blah, blah," the demon muttered. "Unfortunately, I'd already caused her quite a bit of pain before I made that promise, so there was really no use in keeping it."

My hands clenched into fists and I fought the urge to attack. Four to one were not good odds...nine to one was even worse. I needed Castiel to pick off the demons outside before I picked a fight with these ones.

"So which one are you? Demon #4,235?" I asked.

"I am Ariel," he answered smugly.

I choked out a laugh. "You're the little mermaid?"

The demon growled lowly. "I am significantly more powerful than a mermaid." With a flick of his wrist, I went flying against the wall, unable to move no matter how hard I struggled.

"I really hate Disney," Ariel grumbled. "At least I'll be rewarded for delivering your head on a silver platter."

"That's nice," I grunted. "I hope King Triton is pleased."

Ariel tightened his fist and I suddenly couldn't breathe. This wasn't the first time I'd felt this sensation, but it sucked every damn time.

There was a strangled cry from outside the room and it got the attention of all four demons. Ariel loosened his grip on me and I was able to breathe again. "What was that?" he hissed.

The other three demons shrugged in confusion.

"One of you go check it out."

None of them looked like they wanted to go, but eventually one stepped forward and went outside to check. He left the door open behind him, but he never came back in.

"For the love of Hell," Ariel muttered as he moved towards the open doorway.

"Not Hell," Castiel said from inside the room, angel blade slicing through the skin of the nearest demon.

Ariel's hold on me kept me pinned to the wall, but I felt it weaken as he spun around in surprise. Cass had grabbed ahold of the last demon and sunk his blade into the demon's chest. He glanced up at Ariel and took a menacing step in his direction.

The demon immediately abandoned his meat suit, a massive cloud of black smoke escaping into the night. I fell to my knees as his power left with him, body aching from the intensity.

"(Y/N)," I gasped out as I got to my feet and rushed to her side. "(Y/N/N) can you hear me?"

She didn't respond and I felt a moment of panic as I rushed to cut the binds around her wrists and ankles. She fell into my arms and I picked her up with ease. "I need to get her to a hospital."

"Of course."

"Uh-uh. Don't you leave yet. I know you can't heal her, but I might still need your help."

Castiel looked perplexed, but he nodded and followed me to the car.

**********

I wanted to stay by (Y/N)'s side when we got to the hospital, but the nurses told me to stay back in the waiting room. Castiel took a seat to wait patiently, but I had too much adrenaline to sit down. I paced back and forth for a good half hour, my boots wearing a pattern into the old carpet.

People were giving me odd looks, which I ignored. I was singularly focused on remaining in control of my emotions as we waited for news about (Y/N)'s condition. In the strangers' defenses, I did have a fair amount of blood on my clothes, none of which belonged to me, and I probably looked a little angry--okay, maybe a lot angry.

"Riley," a doctor called from the front desk. It was the name I had given when I brought (Y/N) in.

I practically ran to the doctor, Castiel following behind me. "How is she?" I asked, worry lacing my voice.

"She was quite clearly in a rather violent altercation, but she's going to be alright. She sustained a head injury, as well as several lacerations and bruises, but she's awake and asking for 'Dean'. I assume that's one of you?"

My body visibly relaxed. "I'm Dean."

"Would you like to go see her?"

I nodded and the doctor gestured for me to follow. When Cass tried to come with us, the doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry, but only one person at a time."

I turned to look at him, but Cass waived me on. "Go. She needs you."

I nodded gratefully and followed the doctor to her room. When I walked through the door, I saw the woman I loved lying in the bed, looking smaller and weaker than I'd ever seen her. It was enough to nearly shatter my heart into a thousand pieces.

She looked up at me when I stepped through the door and offered me a soft smile. "Dean," she murmured lowly.

"Hey baby," I said softly. Tears were stinging my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I didn't want her to know how emotional I was feeling in the moment.

"I'll leave you two to talk," the doctor said before closing the door behind him.

I crossed the room and grabbed her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?"

"For leaving you alone. I didn't think they would come after you..."

She squeezed my hand and a gentle smile graced her pretty face. "It's not your fault, Dean. Besides, I'm fine."

I nodded and bit my lip. "Thanks to Cass," I admitted.

"Thanks to both of you," she insisted.

I offered her a small smile. "I'm glad you're okay."

She tried to pull herself up into a more comfortable sitting position, but a gasp of pain escaped her lips and she slumped back against the pillows.

"Hey, don't try to move too much. Let me help you."

"Thanks," she mumbled.

I started to help her adjust so she'd be more comfortable. "Lean forward for me, baby, let me fix these pillows."

She nodded and leaned forward, giving me access to the crappy hospital pillows that were wedged between her back and the bed. As I moved them, her hospital gown shifted slightly, revealing her right shoulder blade to me. My body stiffened and I inhaled sharply as I took in the mangled skin where her anti-possession tattoo had once been.

I tried to keep my exterior calm as I finished adjusting the pillows and she leaned back against them, wincing at the pain. My face must have betrayed me, because when she looked up at me, a worried expression crossed her face.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied smoothly. "I just don't like seeing you in pain."

She nodded, but didn't look entirely convinced. I had no way of knowing if she was already possessed or not, but there was one surefire way to find out. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small vial of holy water I had there from earlier in the evening.

Unfortunately, she noticed my movements and her eyes narrowed. "I really wouldn't do that if I were you," she hissed, eyes turning black as night. "You'll hurt your precious (Y/N)."

Anger flared up inside me. "Get the hell out of my girl, you black eyed son of a bitch."

She laughed. "Why would I do that when I'm having so much fun in here? She's in here with me, you know. Wide awake and fighting."

She got out of the bed with shocking speed and sent me flying across the room. Apparently the demon had been faking pain to make me think it was (Y/N).

"You know what the best part of all this is, Dean?" The demon asked as it approached me. "She's going to watch helplessly as I gut you like a pig. I might even make her eat your entrails, just for fun."

I winced as I pulled myself into a sitting position. I was getting really tired of being tossed around like a damn rag doll. "I think you underestimate her," I said with a grunt of discomfort.

"The fight weakened her before I ever possessed her. She's not strong enough to overpower me." The demon leaned forward and grabbed my face in its hands. "You're not much of a threat either without your little angel pal--and you won't do a damn thing to hurt your beloved (Y/N)."

The demon was right about one thing--I wouldn't hurt (Y/N), at least not irreparably. I still had the bottle of holy water in my hand and I made the split section decision to toss it into her face. "Sorry, baby," I muttered as the demon jumped back in pain.

I managed to get to my feet, but the demon flung me against the wall again, holding me still with its power. I managed to gasp out (Y/N)'s name before the demon began to suffocate me.

I stared at the face of the person I loved most in this hellscape of a world and silently pleaded with her to wake up--to fight back. I didn't want to die, but more importantly, I didn't want her to have to live with the guilt.

I was starting to fade, I knew I was going to black out soon and then it would be all over for me. I struggled against the power that held me in place, but it was useless. I saw the demon pull a knife out of a bag of (Y/N)'s clothes. I recognized it instantly as the knife I'd given her as a gift when we first got together. Fitting that it would be the weapon that kills me.

The demon began to approach me and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was truly about to die. What was worse was the accompanying fear along with it. Would I be going back to Hell? Would (Y/N) be okay without me? Would I get to see my brother again?

Suddenly, the demon's black eyes flickered back to (Y/N)'s normal (y/e/c) ones. Her hand shook and she dropped the knife she was holding, a strained gasp escaping her throat. The demon's power over me faded in an instant, and I sunk to the floor, gasping for breath.

"Dean," she gasped, her face contorted in pain as she struggled to hold the demon at bay. "I can't--I can't hold him off much longer."

"Cass!" I yelled, trying to summon the angel for help.

"Exorcise him or kill me," (Y/N) begged. "I can't let him kill you, but I'm not strong enough to maintain control."

I suddenly wished I'd paid more attention when Sammy tried to teach me Latin...at least the words to the damn exorcism. "I can't remember the words," I said in distress.

"Then you have to kill me," she pleaded.

"I can't. I won't."

"The demon--it won't...won't let me recite the words."

"Son of a bitch," I muttered under my breath. I pulled myself off the floor and took a step towards her. "Hang on for me, baby. Please."

She nodded and I turned my back to her to open the door. I stuck my head out in the hallway and saw Castiel sitting patiently at the other end. Clearly no one had noticed the commotion happening in this room, including the angel. I stepped out into the hallway and waved to him, hoping he would see me.

Cass looked up at me and I waved to him, motioning for him to come here immediately. He stood up and started walking towards me and I gestured for him to come to the room. I ducked back in and closed the door. A second later, Cass appeared inside the room.

"What's going on, Dean?"

"She's possessed."

"That's not possible."

"The demons cut off my anti-possession tattoo," (Y/N) said through gritted teeth. "So, a little help would be nice."

Castiel fixed his gaze on her and his eyes widened slightly. "I can see the demon within you."

"That's disturbing," I muttered. "Get it out of her."

"I can't without killing her."

"What? Use your mojo, dude. That's what you do."

"Haven't you ever noticed my 'mojo' as you call it burns out a person's eyes?"

I thought back to all the times I'd seen Cass kill a demon and realized he was right. "Shit."

"Do you know an exorcism?" (Y/N) managed to ask. "Preferably a fast one."

"I know where I can get one." With those words, Castiel disappeared into thin air.

"Not a great time to disappear, Cass!" I yelled at nothing.

"He'll be back," (Y/N) said. "I think."

"Are you okay? How much longer can you hold him off?"

"He's really strong, so not much longer. Also, he really doesn't like you."

"Most demons don't," I said with a shrug.

"He keeps muttering something about the little mermaid. I don't know why."

My eyes widened slightly. "Well I do. His name is Ariel...and I may have made a little mermaid joke when we met earlier."

She managed a weak laugh. "A demon named Ariel. Awesome."

In any other circumstances, I would have laughed with her, but I was too worried to appreciate the humor.

"I have the exorcism," Castiel said as he reappeared beside me.

"Great!" I grabbed the book from his hand and realized it was my dad's journal. I held the leather tightly as I began to read the words from the page. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas omnis incursio infernalis adversarii..."

The more I read, the more intense (Y/N)'s struggle became. She fell to her knees and cried out in pain, but I kept reading. I needed that demon to get the hell out of her body.

"Ergo, Draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te! Adinos!" The moment I finished speaking, (Y/N)'s head flew back and black smoke escaped her mouth.

After a few seconds, her body collapsed on the floor and I rushed to her side. "(Y/N)!"

She lifted her head and her eyes met mine. She offered me a weak smile and said, "I'm fine."

I breathed a sigh of relief and helped her off the floor and back into bed. "Cass, go grab an anti-possession necklace from the trunk of my car."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Cass was gone.

"I feel like I owe you another apology," I said softly.

"For what?"

"Well...you didn't exactly get my first apology and I also need to apologize for letting you get possessed."

"You didn't let anything happen, Dean. None of this was your fault. Shit like this happens to people in this life...I know what I signed up for."

Cass reappeared with the necklace before I could respond. I took it from him and placed it around her neck, breathing a sigh of relief once it was in place.

"I will wait outside," Cass announced. He disappeared again before either of us could say a word.

"Angels," I muttered under my breath, earning a light laugh from (Y/N).

I turned my attention back to her and I sighed. I hated seeing her like this--I hated seeing her hurt and in pain. It made me want to kill whatever had caused her pain, only this time it was all my fault.

"Dean, I wanna go home," she whispered.

I wished more than anything that we had an actual home to go to, instead of yet another shitty motel. I wished I could give her the life she deserved, but I knew that would never be in the cards for us.

"Alright," I murmured, placing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Lemme talk to the doctor."

**********

We drove for over an hour to a slightly nicer motel in another town. I didn't want her recovering in that rundown place--the same place she'd been attacked and possessed.

(Y/N) was asleep in the backseat when we arrived, having fallen asleep almost immediately after leaving the hospital. Cass and I had ridden in silence the entire time, allowing me to have time to think.

I got us a room while Cass waited with (Y/N) in the car. When I returned, I gently woke her up and helped her into our room.

"I wanna take a shower," she stated. "I feel disgusting."

I knew the feeling, so I agreed to her request even though I was worried about her falling. Besides, I needed some time to talk to Cass alone.

I helped her into the bathroom and started the shower for her. She refused my help any further and shooed me out of the room. "I'm weak, Dean, but I'm not an invalid."

I chuckled and threw my hands up in surrender. "Just yell if you need me."

She waved me off again and I walked out of the bathroom, leaving her to her own devices.

Cass had sat down in a chair near the door and I made my way towards him. I didn't want to have this conversation...I didn't want to ask of this of him, but I didn't see another option.

"Thanks for coming to the rescue today," I began.

"You know I will always help you," he responded.

I nodded. "I actually need your help one more time before you go."

"With what?"

I took a deep breath. "This bounty thing--the price on my head--it's putting the people I love at risk. More risk than I ever imagined." I started pacing back and forth as I spoke, letting the words just flow. "What happened today just solidified it for me, ya know? I'm obviously living at risk every day of my life, but that doesn't mean I should be dragging other people into it. I mean, look at all I've lost so far--you and (Y/N) are all I have left."

I paused, needing a minute to just breathe. "My worst fears almost came true today. (Y/N) was hurt because of me...she could have died because of me. Then she was possessed by a demon who wanted to kill me? Imagine if he'd been successful! She would have had to live with that guilt the rest of her life and it would have killed her. I don't want this for her--any of it. She deserves better and I need you to give it to her."

I sat down on the bed facing Cass with a sigh. My head dropped into my hands and I felt tears pressing against the backs of my eyelids.

"What is it you're asking me to do?"

I stayed silent for a moment, taking those precious seconds to make sure this was the right decision. When I was certain, I looked up at my friend, sadness etched into my face. "I need you to take away her memories. I want her to forget about this life--to forget any of this exists. I want her to forget about demons and angels and all the shit that goes bump in the night. I want her to forget about the death and the pain and the endless battles. I want her to live a happy, normal, safe life--far away from this...far away from me."

Cass stared at me in silence for a moment. Neither one of us were aware our conversation was no longer private--the shower had turned off over a minute ago.

"Do you understand what you're asking? She will know nothing of this life, which means she won't remember you."

The tears finally pushed through my mental block and slid down my face. "I know. I hate the idea of her being out in the world loving someone who isn't me, but I can handle it because she'll be safe. She'll be happy. She needs to forget me...or she'll never be safe."

I heard the bathroom door open and I quickly wiped my eyes, trying to hide the pain I was feeling. I turned towards her, trying to put a smile on my face, but it slipped away the moment I saw her expression.

She was standing there, hair wet and dripping, wrapped in nothing but a bath towel. Her eyes were filled with sadness and a pain so deep it broke my heart.

"Castiel, will you give us a minute, please?" she asked softly, but firmly.

"I'll just be...outside," he muttered as he disappeared.

"(Y/N)--"

"No, Dean. This is my time to talk," she said cutting me off. "Sometimes you make me so incredibly angry--like a violent level of angry I didn't even know I was capable of. You're so...so...arrogant. So certain you're right and every one else is wrong. You make decisions without stopping to think how those decisions affect other people--you make decisions on my behalf without even consulting me. Do you ever stop to think about how I feel?"

"(Y/N), I--it's for your own protection--"

"Damn my protection, Dean! And damn you!" she yelled. "You don't get to decide for me. You don't get to determine my life path! You don't wanna be with me, then that's your prerogative, but don't you dare make that decision for me. I chose this life with eyes wide open. I knew the dangers, I knew the risks, and I chose it anyway. I chose you, Dean Winchester, knowing everything that comes along with that."

I starred at her in stunned silence--I'd never seen her this angry before.

Tears streamed down her face as she continued. "I have loved every moment of our life together--the good and the bad. I wouldn't choose anything else, certainly not a 'normal' life. I love hunting monsters with you. I love saving people with you. I love traveling the country with you. I love living in shitty, dingy motels with you. I love getting into fights, coming home bruised and bleeding, battling our way through everything that comes our way. Do you know why? Because I'm with you--because I love you. So don't you dare take my memories from me, Dean Winchester. They are not yours to take."

I stood up and crossed the room with surprising speed. I wrapped her up in my arms, holding her tightly to my chest. She leaned into me, ignoring the pain her body was in. I kissed her on top of her head and held her for a long time before she finally pulled away from me.

"I just want to protect you," I whispered.

"I know, Dean...but the safest place for me will always be right beside you. There's no place else I'd rather be."

I touched her face and closed my eyes, just feeling her warmth emanate from within. I knew I couldn't live without her--at least not happily...I needed her more than I ever cared to admit. I wanted to protect her--to keep her safe, but maybe she was right. Maybe the safest place for her was in my arms. I would die to protect her--I would kill to protect her. Who else would be willing to do that?

"I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and I'm sorry."

She smiled up at me. "I love you too, Dean...and I know you are. Just don't try that shit again."

I chuckled lightly and leaned down to kiss her. Part of me hated admitting she was right, but I knew from that moment on, I would never let her go. Never.

[ao3-top-batfam-ships-bracket]

My problem with Bat/ Bat ships isn't that they exist, it's how many people like them.

Wait! Hear me out. I swear I have a reason.

I'm good at ignoring ships that squick me, so I do. I also want to make it very clear I am not I am not hating on individuums who ship Bat/ Bat.

But to me, how much people ship them is kind of indicative of how little we value adopted children in our society. People say they aren't "really related" so it's fine.

Because you just don't see that level of engagement with ships involving biologically related family.

And it's that attitude shining through more than the shipping itself I dislike.

"Fiction isn't reality" no, it isn't, write the darkest thing you want. Explore fucked up concepts. That doesn't make you a bad person. It's completely normal.

However oftentimes Fiction is often still a reflection of reality. From reading, we can learn about our society (or other societies, if we venture beyond our own culture.) It says something, whether the author meant for it to mean something or not.

We understand where you're coming from and agree that adopted children/siblings are real family and shouldn't be valued less. We also agree that fiction mirrors reality which mirrors fiction, although that process is much more complex than many people claim.

However, 1) not every family is your typical nuclear family. Everybody defines their family and their relationships with its members in their own way. Some people call all adults that are close to them uncles and aunts, regardless of any actual biological connection. Someone could have been raised by their biological parents, but don't claim them as parents because of personal reasons and even view other adults who filled the parental roles better as their actual parents. Someone could have a biological sibling that is much older than them, grow up without them in their life and due to that think of them as more of a cool friend than a sibling. (All examples are taken from our own personal experiences.)

It's especially apparent in cases of found family, which batfamily certainly is. Tim and Jason haven't met until Jason was 18 and Tim was 16. Both were adopted by the same man, but they didn't know each other. Does that automatically makes them brothers? Even though without the adoption papers they would be total strangers? If Jason's death invalidated the adoption papers does it mean he and Bruce stopped thinking of each other as parent and child? Bruce and Dick have an age difference between 10 to 20 years and viewed each other more as brothers, partners and mentor/mentee at first. Bruce and Tim for a long time also thought of each other as mentor/mentee, especially since Tim still had a living father. That was also the case of Dick and Damian. Tim had a crush on Cass in the comics at the beginning of their friendship. Jason and Dick were technically brothers before Jason's death, but they weren't close at all and only met a few times. Barbara is a mother/sister figure to Cass even when she was dating Cass' adopted brother Dick. We don't think Jason and Cass even met once in post-crisis comics, despite technically being siblings. (Sorry we're only mentioning that one era, we aren't as knowledgeable about new52 and rebirth.)

The recent push to make the batfamily a nuclear family in our opinion does a huge disservice to the characters and their interesting and complicated relationships that can't fit neatly into boxes labeled "sibling" or "parent".

2) some people think of batfamily as a family AND still ship them at the same time. Yes, some claim they aren't "really related", but there's another side that absolutely views them as related and wants to explore what happens when two brothers or a father and son fall in love.

3) there's actually a pretty big engagement with ships involving biologically related family. Wincest (ship between biological brothers Sam and Dean from Supernatural) is the 15th most popular ship on AO3 of all time. We still remember how prominent the fandom discourse about shipping the Weasley twins from Harry Potter was. In almost every fandom, there're at least a few incest ships. Are they more popular than adopted sibling incest ships? We don't know, but if anyone wants to measure it in some way, we'd love to find out.

Edit: 4) as people have rightfully pointed out in the comments and reblogs, a lot of fics are AUs where one or both characters weren't even adopted and met in different circumstances. You can see that in a lot of fandoms, people will imagine close friends or even strangers as biological family and vice versa: write biological or adopted family as just friends or even strangers.

We're looking forward to hearing what other people think about this topic!

[pagannatural]

2.14 Born Under a Bad Sign

-Meg possesses Sam which forces the brothers’ dynamic to develop. Dean really reclaims a sense of himself this episode after spending all season in various degrees and types of turmoil over what to do about Sam. I don’t think he ever really considered killing Sam, but he agonized over his role and what he should do. He lied to a drunk Sam in Playthings and said he would kill him.

- Dean has called Ellen multiple times about Sam going missing, so much so that Dean doesn’t even refer to him by name on the phone, he just calls asking Where is he. Dean says “I’m losing my mind here.” He’s desperate to find Sam. I wonder if Dean ever lost Sam when he was a baby, like at the store or something.

- Dean also says it’s like when John went missing all over again. Dean sought out Sam for help and comfort when that happened. It’s a little kernel of insight into Dean’s state of mind when he broke into Sam’s house in s1, he was probably a lot more afraid than he let on to Sam because he was trying to keep it together.

-when he gets to the motel room Dean kneels in front of Sam, who’s sitting on the bed. He’s off to the side rather than right in between Sam’s legs but when he zeroes in on the blood on Sam’s shirt, on his lower stomach, he starts moving aside Sam’s jacket and touching the bloody fabric. It looks very intimate. Dean reaches directly into Sam’s personal space and even moves his clothes aside to check for injury.

This quick shot of his fingers feeling Sam’s stomach is particularly intimate. Meg!Sam says that he doesn’t think it’s his blood. Dean certainly thought it was Sam’s blood, he wouldn’t have been considering other options at that moment. So Dean is touching Sam’s wound on his lower belly, as far as he and the viewer know. It’s a sexual and feminine image. Although he’s not actually injured, Sam’s body has been invaded and controlled by a demon. It’s a sexual assault parallel, a first taste of Sam’s fall from grace. Throughout the episode, Dean fights for him and refuses to harm him. As long as Sam is still in there somewhere, Dean will protect him.

-Meg is inside of Sam’s brain and body and she has a pretty good understanding of Sam. She’s acting the way she thinks he would and also in whatever way plays to her advantage with Dean, so she has a primary interest in the nature of their relationship. She knows about Dean’s promise to John and to Sam about killing him, so she must have some access to his memories. She plays up Sam’s pleading eyes more than anything, which means she knows Sam’s memories that this has worked on Dean in the past.

- Dean reacts with deep skepticism to the gas station clerk telling him that Sam was drinking, smoking, and behaving violently.

Dean has also picked up on a couple of other specifics that aren’t like Sam: the name he gave at the motel is the name of a Bon Jovi band member, which Dean doesn’t think Sam likes and isn’t one of the names they would recognize for each other; and if Sam did smoke, Dean seems convinced he wouldn’t smoke menthols. He knows Sam so well.

- Dean says that smoking and throwing bottles at people sounds “more like me than you” which tells us that Dean is sometimes an angry drunk and sometimes a smoker, both of which make perfect sense for his character. There’s a lot we don’t directly see on the show.

-Sam moves differently, seems more feminine, and when Dean continues to insist he might not be a murderer he looks annoyed and almost rolls his eyes. Jared Padalecki is so good at being Sam possessed by Meg.

-Meg is basically begging Dean to feel horror that Sam killed someone- a hunter! with a family! caught on camera!- but Dean is like Ah fuck okay I’ll just run through the crime scene cleanup checklist quick and then we can take a nap together at home before we go okay babe? Babe u okay?

- Meg!Sam asks Dean to kill him, kinda using the puppy dog eyes but not quite selling it because it’s not needy enough, and Dean says “I’ve tried so hard to keep you safe…I can’t. I’d rather die.”

This is Dean admitting outright that his promise was bullshit and that he will either save Sam or die trying, and he’s faced so many trials to be completely sure and ready to say it. It doesn’t matter what Sam does. Dean had to understand more consciously his feelings for Sam before he could commit to this because it’s a fundamental part of who he is and his love for Sam. He feels guilty about his love, but he can’t doubt the strength of it and I think this is where he first accepts his role as Sam’s savior. The way he looks at Sam here is with such open love and desire. He’s like Wesley looking at Buttercup.

-Dean calls the phone company to get Sam’s location by pretending Sam is his son. He says “my son” and calls him Sammy and fuck if it isn’t the cutest. Dean is Sam’s dad now. Succession.

-Meg!Sam is so irritated that Jo is carrying a torch for Dean. She seems to be using Sam’s real memories and feelings to get what she wants, and in this case I think Sam is probably annoyed by Jo’s crush and wishes she understood she doesn’t have a chance with Dean, so Meg is using her weaknesses. She really enjoys using Sam’s characteristics and twisting them. For example, after tying Jo up she uses the puppy dog face again and says “c’mon it’s me, you can tell me anything” which echos Sam’s role as sympathetic ear to the victims and other characters. So when she talks about Jo wanting Dean and Dean not wanting Jo and then attacks her in a very sexually charged way, it feels like she’s playing with both their desire for Dean and Sam’s desire to be more like him. She seems to be telling the truth in these scenes, just truths that Jo wouldn’t want to know. So telling her You want him but he doesn’t want you and aren’t I the next best, when Sam in reality does not want Jo, makes Jo into a proxy to act out unrequited love for (and from) Dean.

-Meg!Sam shoots Dean and he falls into the water from the dock and Jo finds him soaked and bleeding and you have three guesses as to the first words out of his mouth (“where’s Sam?”).

-Bobby asks where Dean is so Meg!Sam tells him Dean’s with a girl somewhere. Bobby asks if she’s pretty and Meg’s eyes go black and she says “if you ask me he’s in way over his head.” The visual cue and emphasis make it clear Meg is talking as herself here, not as Sam, and it seems like she’s talking about Dean’s situation with Sam. It’s also a pun because she thinks he’s underwater, but regardless she’s connecting Dean being with some girl and Dean being in trouble because of Sam.

-she also smirks at Dean pretty wickedly and tells him “you wouldn’t wanna bruise this fine packaging” ie Sam’s body that she knows Dean thinks is mighty fine. What I wouldn’t give for her to taunt him more in this way.

- she tells Dean he’s worthless, he can’t save Sam, and the people he loves would be better off without him. Which means his worst beliefs about himself (as far as Sam knows) are that he isn’t good enough and that he’s actually bad for Sam. Why? Why would Sam know that Dean fears he would be better off without him? He’s protected and cared for Sam his whole life, both Sam and John have explicitly told him that they’re grateful, and even Dean can’t blame himself for the way he and Sam grew up. It’s possible this is about the fact that Sam is in danger hunting with Dean, but he would’ve been in danger in law school too. It fits better with Dean’s guilt over his feelings for Sam and his knowledge that Sam is in love with him. Sam knows that Dean blames himself.

-Dean refuses to hurt Sam when Meg!Sam is punching him, and she punches him four or five times. Then when Sam is back unpossessed, Dean punches him in the face. When it was about saving Sam Dean refused to hurt him, but now that Sam is safe it’s like his anger at Sam comes pouring out. He needed some form of resolution for the fact that his little brother scared the shit out of him for a week straight going missing, murdered someone and didn’t even help clean up the crime scene, pistol whipped him, shot him in the shoulder, punched him, named his worst fears, threatened to bite his own tongue off, and pressed his finger into his wound and laughed. Obviously Sam did none of those things and it was all Meg, but I think it’s completely understandable that Dean reacted this way after not only keeping his shit together for Sam all that time but also actively protecting him. It’s a reasonable trauma response for him to have fought back. I’m not saying it’s ethical or anything just that it’s exactly what Dean would do and it gives his episode arc some catharsis.

-for his part, Sam isn’t upset with Dean for punching him. He never is. As evidenced by Sam’s little smirk when Dean makes joke about Bobby’s charms for keeping the demon from “getting back up in there.”

-Dean checks in with Sam in the sweetest way, gently prompting him to answer if he’s okay. Sam explains that what’s troubling him isn’t the memory of his own hands killing a man, it’s the knowledge that even then Dean wouldn’t kill him. They both know for sure now.

-Dean teases Sam about having a girl inside him and Sam grins. It’s just one of many references to Sam having someone inside him and otherwise sexually being referred to as the girl.

-Dean’s “if it’s the last thing I do I’m gonna save you” hits different when you’re on tumblr and you know the show ends 13 seasons later with Dean dying and Sam living out some kind of a life.

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: (Duo POV) After a hunt gone wrong Dean falls sick. Now on his death bed Sam and Y/N do whatever it takes to save him from the void that is death, even if that means running into trouble.

Warnings: Cannon violence, Ansgt, hospitals, talk about dying and death, illness, heart issues, talk of past deaths, grief, Dean may be OOC or at least his inner thoughts but let me know, Historical and religious talk of the Celts and Christianity if anything is incorrect/ inaccurate pls tell me so I may fix it, cursing

A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers, never thought this series would get so much love!

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 15,139

Faith

(Master list, Prev. Ch, Next Ch)

I hate hospitals.

I hate hospitals, especially when it is someone you care about on the medical bed.

I hate hospitals, especially when you can’t be in the room with the person; when you have to sit in the waiting room with nothing but pure anxiety coursing through your veins, and everyone around you is in the same position.

At least Sam is with him, that must make both of them feel better. But it doesn't make me feel as better as it should, my leg bounces rapidly no distraction working for me. I tried reading and listening to music on my stupid iPod, but neither worked- not when my mind was going a hundred miles a minute on all the worst possibilities.

It wasn't meant to be a difficult hunt, going after a rawhead. Yet it all went wrong far too quickly, Dean yelled for Sam and I to get the children out of the basement while he stayed behind fighting the thing. It would be a single shot with a taser, easy to mess up on, truthfully, which is why I had given mine up for him to have as an extra one before I carried a young boy out. It was all wrong. So so wrong. He shot the thing but they both happened to be standing in a small puddle of water, and water conducts stupid electricity and he got hurt too.

Sam had found him. We called for an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital, he was unconscious the whole time.

Sam had to talk to the receptionist for insurance and then the cops explaining what happened and then a doctor. But they wanted to talk privately and he wanted to see Dean alone first. Which only increased my anxiety, Sam wouldn’t have done that unless something was horribly wrong. Something was horribly wrong. I felt like I was going to vomit or shake myself out of existence, maybe the latter would be better. Everyone around me wasn't much better, looking the same shade of nervousness. Some were crying, pacing, or on the phone talking rapidly. Hospitals were a horribly depressing place.

I’m unsure how much time passes, minutes, hours, an eternity? Sam walks towards me, tears in his eyes some clearly having spilled over by the redness of his cheeks. No. No. No.

I stand up walking to him almost without noticing as if it was all just natural, tears fill my own eyes and I can feel my hands shaking. No. No. He wouldn't be crying if–

“Sam?” I said weakly, my voice wobbling horribly. I swallow down a knot in my throat, this couldn't be happening. No.

He drops his head down, his hair covering his face and likely more tears that spilled over. “Sam,” I say again my voice breaking. I couldn't lose someone else, couldn't lose anyone else. He finally lifts his head, barely being able to hold eye contact. He seems to wobble and all at once he falls into me, I hold him, his head dropping awkwardly into my neck, from the height difference, broken sobs leaving his mouth. He hugs me tightly, grasping desperately to the back of my shirt. Something is horribly wrong. I blink back my tears, I had to be strong for Sammy. This was his brother, I might have lost both my parents but I couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose my brother.

My neck grows damp but I ignore it. I hold the back of his head, holding him, no comforting words forming in my mind. “Sam” I breathe. I felt like I was going insane. He pulls himself away, keeping me in arm's distance. His face is red and blotchy from crying, and his hair is a mess. “Please” I begged one last time, my voice quivering.

He sniffles hard, but I do not expect him to be strong, “He has a month, at best” his voice is coarse and shaky but the words feel like they came out in slow motion. Everything freezes, turning into a buzz of white noise. I can feel tears spill down my cheeks but I can’t move. I can’t. No. He can’t be dying. No. No. He wasn’t allowed to. The world seemed to shatter, no, maybe that was my heart. I can feel it beating in my ears, everything else fading away. His mouth moves, he is saying something else but I cannot hear him over the sterile noise of the world crumbling. I don't understand. My throat is so tight I feel like I might just break right there. My knees feel weak and the floor seems closer than before.

Sam pulls me into him, holding me tightly once again, his hands cradling my head as a choked sob leaves my lips. Tears pour down my eyes, he promised. All those months ago he promised he wouldn’t leave me, it was a stupid and fruitless promise but I believed it.

He couldn’t die. He can’t, he can’t die. No one else. Not again.

All too soon Sam pulls back, his arms being the only thing that seems to be holding me up. I can barely make out his features behind my own teary eyes. “He wanted me to come get you, ‘wouldn’t talk without you there” he croaks. A whole new sob breaks through my lips, I wasn't strong enough for this. I went through this twice, I could not take another. Tear after tear passes down my face, my cheeks stiff with it. I shake my head, this can’t be happening again, but even so, I let him pull me down the halls to his room trying my best to blink away my never-ending tears. But it was useless, not when it felt like I was being torn in two.

I stopped at the threshold of the doorway, he looked so weak, he was so pale and he had dark circles under his eyes that were not there hours before. An IV sticks out of his arm along with various machines around him, including an EKG. New tears fall over the rim of my eyes and I have to force my hand to clasp my mouth to hide another sob. Sam enters the room, his face hard and rid of any of the emotions he showed just moments ago. How could he do that?

Dean’s eyes are focused on the TV, but even from where I was partially hiding I could see his green eyes had grown dull, “Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible” he jokes but he sounded weak too, his voice rid of its usual playful tone and familiar gruffness. Sam shakes his head and sighs, his ability to not break down in front of his brother was impressive to the point of it being scary, “I talked to your doctor.” But Dean continues to ignore anything that wasn’t that stupid TV playing commercials, “That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down” he responds instead. I want to laugh and ask him what the cute laundry bear ever did to him but I could not find it within me to be humorous, “Dean” I plead weakly my voice betraying me with its cracking. That gets his attention.

His eyes snapped up to where I stood, leaning against the doorframe to prevent myself from crumbling to the floor. His face immediately fills with worry, his eyes softening which is ironic considering who’s in the hospital bed. Without looking away from me he turned off the TV, I could tell he was thinking and worrying over something as he stared at me but I could not look at him without new tears falling. “Yeah. All right, well, ‘looks like you're gonna leave town without me” he finally says, my eyes snap back to him but he has already turned his attention to his brother. “What the hell are you talking about?” I step into the room, my sadness mixing too closely with frustration over his stupid declaration. “We are not gonna leave you here” Sam adds in sternly. “Hey, you better take care of that car” he points at Sam, any hint of a joke void from his voice, “Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass.”

My eyebrows scrunched together, “what's wrong with you?” I accuse, “How are you just accepting this? You are young and have so much life ahead of you” For each word that passed my lips tears followed, my resolve too thin to exist. “You’re meant to grow old, and…and yell at kids to get off your lawn as you work on Baby and maybe other cars with a pet at your side and a lovely home. You’re meant to annoy your brother and me with stupid calls and the same old rock music.” I swallow roughly, ignoring the subtle shock on his face, “It’ll be beautiful and wonderful and we will all be there to watch it happen because you have to live.” My chest heaves, and I’m surprised I have any more tears to give. Life was too cruel before to allow me the opportunity to beg someone to stay as if that feat alone was enough to keep someone alive.

Silence envelopes the room, his eyes are wide and his lips are slightly agape. I don’t believe in God, but I would get on my knees right now and beg and plead and do anything he ever wanted if it meant Dean living. He sighs after what feels like forever, “Look, what can I say, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.” I don’t understand how he could just dwindle his life down to bad luck and a wrong straw. Tears well in my eyes and I have the urge to smack some sense into him. “Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options” Sam insists, his voice breaking slightly. “What options?” Dean asks, “Yeah, burial or cremation?” he pauses for a moment his “joke” not landing, “And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. How many people will I have to lose until it's enough to feed the glutenous wrath of death? First, it was my mother growing sick and dying, neither my brother nor I was allowed to see her in such a state not even to say goodbye. Then my Dad, who grew reckless in the wake of his only love's death, the coldness about him we had heard about only in stories returning to consume him completely until he drove himself into the ground. I always thought I was most like my mother, but now in the wake of this maybe I am my father's daughter.

I wipe away my tears roughly before clenching my hands, needing my nails to dig into my palms to ground me. “Let me try and heal you,” I say as firmly as my voice will allow. I've never done such a thing on a serious scale, it never got to the point where I felt desperate enough to toe the line of my own morals. But this, for him I would and I would not stay awake at night contemplating my selfishness.

Dean’s POV

Her face was red from crying, and her e/c eyes were filled with deep sadness. She looked shattered, and even so, she was beautiful.

I know I wasn’t being fair to her or Sam. But I always knew I’d die on a hunt, I long accepted it so her big glossy eyes would do nothing to change that fact. Even if it broke her, both of them, which I knew I was already doing. But I also know that sugar-coated truths would only hurt them more, I wasn’t going to allow them to get hopeful not when it would ruin them.

“Please?” she pleads quietly. My resolve breaks, my heart lurches as if it was trying to get closer to her and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the heart attack.

This was for the better, if they saw nothing would work early on they’d hopefully accept my death quicker. Plus I knew she’d stay up every night wondering what more she could have done for me, she’d obsess over it until it broke her all over again. I give her a sharp nod not trusting my voice, her eyes seem to light up a little, and that enough was all the excuse I needed.

She steps closer to my bed, careful not to trip over the wires connecting to me. She got close enough where I could smell her perfume, something sweet and flowery, and undeniably her, I felt warmer just from her closeness. She swallows roughly, “It works better if I can touch you…without the barrier of clothes.” Under any other circumstance I would most likely be flustered by her shy request, I mean this is what I’ve always wanted– to have her. But time was not on my side and I’d never get a chance to tell her, whenever it was I planned on doing so– to do so now with only a week to live would be too cruel. If she didn't like me back I’d die at least knowing and maybe I’d die with a broken heart or whatever crap people complain about. But if she did like me, which Sam insists she does, then a week wouldn't be long enough.

I lift the scratchy hospital shirt, hoping neither saw how much energy the simple action took. She looked nervous as she stared at my bare chest but I could see the hard look of determination in her eyes, she needed this. Carefully she places her hands on the center of my chest, her hands freezing as I suspected they would be but I don't cower from her gentle touch I lean into it further. I bask in it, small sparks igniting where she touched and it had nothing to do with her abilities. She looks up at me, watching my face for any warnings as her own e/c eyes turn to purple and pure warmth extends from her palm seeping into my skin. Maybe I should have been scared, but she was looking at me so gently and she's so beautiful that she must be an angel, and I'm only half the man she deserves.

I suck in a deep breath, clarity hitting me like an arrow, the grogginess and pain I felt melting into a puddle and being replaced with her. It felt like she was cradling my heart, caressing it gently like she would my face, her kindness and love seeping into the vessel, and truthfully I don't ever want it back. She could have my heart. She could have every part of me, and I'd never ask for it back. It's hers. I'm hers. My mouth fell agape, her hair fell onto her face, and I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the tension leave my shoulders and it was like everything I'd been carrying was lifted away. I don't care if she was healing me or not, I want her hands on me, I want to feel her. Just her. She was the sun and I was a fool begging to be closer, even if it burned, even if it was impossible.

Her hands begin to shake violently, but she pushes on, she holds on to me. Her fingers look like they want to curl and dig into my skin and it's clear she's fighting against the instinct, she doesn't want to hurt me not that I would mind any marks she printed into my skin. She lets her head hang, closing her eyes, “Oh fuck” she whines quietly and I have to desperately keep my mind clean. ‘Not the time to have those thoughts or acknowledge how hot that was. I lift a hand pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear, keeping my hand there to hold her. Again I have to force away any ideas of what noises I could get her to make in a similar position. She looks up at me from her lashes as she bites down on her bottom lip hard, and I wonder how much longer I can keep my mind clean.

Suddenly deep crimson drips down her upper lip, and she begins to shake more. “Wait, wait Y/N” I breathe, looking from her over to Sam with concern. He pulls her off of me, she looks drained and paler than I know I am. She wipes at her nose, the blood has seemingly stopped, but she still shakes and wobbles. Sam pushes her down onto a nearby seat and I pull down my shirt, “How do you feel?” he asks me. “Peachy” I respond, smirking. He rolls his eyes, “I’m being serious. Did it work?”

“I feel better, not as weak” I answer truthfully. She nodded her head, her voice quieter than moments before, “Call for a nurse we should see if anything physically changed.”

“What about you? What was all that?” I ask. She shrugs, “‘Never really done it on a scale like this before, but it takes a lot out of you.”

Your POV

The doctor finally comes back, sifting through the papers on his clipboard, he looks shocked and confused which I hope is for the better because being lightheaded and on the verge of passing out would be worth it. “‘Looks like there has been some improvement, which would explain why you feel better,” he says, the room growing quiet with hope, “The difference is slight but well enough to know it wasn't a fluke” he looks up, “But I’d say it wasn't enough to change the outcome, I’m sorry.” Somehow the second time was worse. Hope was worse. “Thank you, Doctor” Sam replies sadly, and with a nod, the doctor leaves but does not take our sorrow with him.

“I can keep trying. Eventually, it will add up, and the more I do it the longer I’d be able to go” I offer, desperation clear on my tongue that it's almost embarrassing. “We can keep trying that but we should look at other options too” Sam adds. I nod my head vigorously in agreement. “You shouldn't get your hopes up, I’ve already accepted I’m gonna die you should too” Dean responds instead.

“Not happenin’” Sam retorts.

After we used up all our visiting hours we headed to the library, skipping out on eating to research for hours on both supernatural and not– just anything related to heart conditions and healing. I didn't ask why Sam didn't stay with his brother, he was family so he didn't have to follow visitation hours but I also figured he would rather spend his time trying to find a solution. Currently, Sam went the more “normal” route, pulling and printing articles on heart surgeries and other doctor stuff while calling several people. At the same time, I delved into the dark that is the unnatural.

Sam left a while ago, heading back to the motel with all his articles. I insisted on staying behind to “look for more,” in reality, I was going to make a call. The library closed in less than an hour and I already researched several Gods associated with healing, the side of my hand had turned dark with the ink stains. Though it was unsuccessful it was helpful for two reasons; one I at least looked, meaning it was one more thing I could check off, and two it pushed me to make a call I wasn't sure I was ready for.

What I needed was to be home, to look through many books on mythology and witchcraft, there I would find something but that was halfway across the country and each day that passed would be a day wasted. And teleporting books here wouldn't be helpful when there were so many of them and I wasn't sure where I would even begin.

I stare at my phone on the table, this shouldn't be a big deal. I call her all the time, well not as of late which I already got yelled at for. No, none of that mattered. She could lecture me a hundred times or resent me for months. I needed to help Dean. I swiftly pick up my phone, scrolling down to her contact, I don't hesitate to hit “call”, I’ve already hesitated too many times today.

The phone rings three times before she picks up, “Adeline” I start my voice already cracking with emotion. I can almost hear her jump to her feet, “Y/N?! What happened? Where are you? Are you safe? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I did not think I had any more tears left but was proven wrong when another tear slipped down my cheek, “Dean he’s…” I couldn’t say it, couldn't make it more real than it already was. I swallow roughly, trying to cram down my emotions for the time being, I’ve cried enough today, “Dean he’s dying, and I don't know–” a strangled sob leaves my lips and I have to force myself together resting my head on my hand for support, “I don't know what to do” I finished weakly. I hear her suck in a deep breath and it only makes me feel worse, “I-I want help…I need help,” I add, “I tried healing him, the doctor said the effect was minor but I’m gonna keep doing it, even if it takes a lot out of me.”

She exhales, “I’m really sorry Y/N”. I shake my head even though I know she can't see me. I ignored her comment, there was nothing to be sorry for because he was going to be alright, “Do you have any ideas? Maybe I’m doing something wrong or could be doing it better?”

She goes quiet again and it is hard to hold on to hope, “please,” I say quietly hoping she can hear me. She clears her throat, her voice cold and serious, “I’d try some herbal tea, one with healing properties any one of it will help or at least make him more comfortable.” I hum picking up my pen again, writing ‘herbal tea’ on my arm, I didn’t want to risk forgetting.

She sighs again, but it isn’t disappointed or even exhausted, “Don’t…don’t get your hopes up.” I shake my head vigorously again, “I’m not listening to this. I called for help cause you’re the only person I can think of who would know even a wisp of this. I’m desperate for help, not a lecture.” I know I was being cruel, ‘could hear it. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. “No, Y/N please listen. This isn’t an easy task, honestly, I’d like to say it’s impossible but I don’t want you to hang up on me. This doesn't come without great sacrifice.”

“And what if I’m okay with that?” I snap back, “I’m willing to sacrifice.”

“This is different,” she spits a hint of anger on her tongue, “I don’t mean just going against everything you believe in or against your mother's words. I mean making deals with demons, where you could lose your soul or your life or what makes you whole or maybe even worse.” I go quiet. I know she’s right, she always is. But I know my answer, I know what I’m willing to do, “I said I’m willing to make sacrifices.”

“Are you?” she counters. And without hesitation, I answer, “I love him.” I could tell she was getting frustrated with me, for not listening to her warning or taking her seriously even though I was. Of course, I know this is dark and messy territory, but that did not concern me. I can hear her swallow, her voice turning hard again, “What you would need to do would be more than love him.”

“Would it?” I counter.

“Yes,” she replies sternly, “And I won’t help you with that.” It was hard to be mad at her, she was just watching out for me trying to protect me. That was her job after all. But I wanted so desperately for him to be okay, he had to be. “Whether you help me or not, I will do everything in my power to fix this. He won't die.”

“I know you will. That’s what scares me.”

My eyebrows furrow, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope you never will,” she huffs out a breath, “I don’t want you to regret anything.” I couldn't vocalize it, did not even know how to make her understand what I felt–that even if I lost him now if I never saw him again. If I sat on his grave weeping for the man I loved with new flowers in my hand each day and each year. If I never got to hold his hand again. If I never got to see him smile again– that cocky smile. Even if I never got to tell him that I loved him…even then, I would never regret knowing him. Never regret the first time we met and never, never regret loving him. But I don’t say that, instead settling for, “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She turns serious once more, determined even, “You won’t. I’m on my way to your place now, I’ll go through your books, and I’ll call you back the second I find something.” She may not agree with my decisions all the time, and might even be upset that we don’t talk as much anymore but at the end of the day we’re best friends–more than that really, “Thank you, Adeline.”

“Of course, now don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” she laughs lightly, “I love you, talk to you later.” I smile for the first time in hours, “I love you too, be safe.”

I let myself into the motel room. Sam doesn’t look up from his place on the bed, papers surround him, some in the garbage which I assume were ones that won't work out. I make my way to the small table in the corner of the room, avoiding looking at where Dean slept the night before. I take out my spellbook, my small journal, and my laptop. My eyes were killing me, most likely from crying so much before.

The next few days would follow a similar pattern, Sam would fall asleep but never for very long before getting coffee and a quick bite to eat before continuing his search. And I spent the nights awake, sleep could not find me at the edge of the void. At some point crumbled pieces of paper surrounded me and I felt like a college student again, I didn't want to do anything but look for an answer. Adeline called once that first night, but it didn't wind up leading anywhere.

The second morning I prepared tea for Dean, arriving at the hospital with the steaming cup and food that wasn't from the hospital. He looked happy to see me and complained about how bored he was there. He looked horrible, and it hurt my chest to see him like that so I just nodded to what he said. He drank the tea with nearly no complaint but instead curiosity, I explained I had boiled Sun water, before making homemade ginger tea adding cinnamon sticks, chamomile, and honey for taste. He asked me to explain to him why I chose each one, though I wasn't sure he truly cared and just wanted to hear me speak since he was relentless with his questions. I healed him again and laid with him when he asked. Then the rest of the while we talked as I did research.

Somehow being there, and watching him worsen was worse than not being there at all. I think I understand now why we weren't allowed to be there when my mom died. I would have rathered someone just stabbed me in the heart over and over then see his eyes grow duller. I healed him again before I was kicked out.

I felt hopeless. I wasn't going to give up but I felt hopeless. It was like I wasn't myself but watching myself go through the motions.

The second night wasn't much better. I slept for a couple of hours only to wake up crying. I didn't try to sleep after that. I prayed to God that night. I hadn't done that in years. I hadn't begged him for mercy since my mother died. I think I was on my knees for hours, the harsh carpet digging into my skin, but that didn’t matter. I barely felt it after a while. I apologized for not praying in years, for only praying when it benefited me which I knew was selfish. I asked for help, and begged for it. I needed him to help Dean. I said I’d do anything he wanted if he did that, even if it meant becoming a nun. I felt incredibly embarrassed begging like that, I didn't even believe in God yet there I was my hands pressed together and the carpet beneath my knees. I cried again that night, for everyone I've lost and how far I would go to save another.

Adeline was wrong, I decided. Sacrifice didn't come with the solution, it came with the search for the answer. Like I said, I didn't feel like myself. I knew I was losing myself each hour that passed and I knew it would only get worse if he did die.

On the third morning, I did the same thing I did the morning before. But after healing him for the first time that morning, I broke in front of him. “I don't want you to go,” I told him, sobbing. He just held me against him even though I knew it hurt him, but he just stroked my head anyway mumbling “I know, I know” into my hair. I could hear his voice breaking with each letter; somehow, that was worse than seeing him act as if he didn't care. Then very quietly he whispered, “I don't know how to comfort someone when I know I’m the source of their pain.”

They did more tests on him. He wasn't getting better, at least not fast enough. It seemed my healing was just halting its progress momentarily, in a sense slowing it down before it continued. I needed to stay on him longer but I wasn’t sure how and ‘could barely make it past 20 minutes before I began to shake so badly and feel so faint like my chest was being pulled open with the sharp nails of cold hands.

I went back to the motel dragging my feet. It had been three days and we had nothing to show for it but failed attempts which I suppose is better than no attempts though it didn’t much feel that way. When I got there I returned to my corner at the table, moving away my mess of “work” with a swipe of my arm. I crumble into the wooden chair, laying my forehead on the edge of the table, I didn’t know what to do. I’d keep looking no matter what, that would not change. I would search through every book on every myth, god, folklore, anything. I’d do whatever it took, I just hoped time would not beat us to the finish line.

With a huff, I pulled my latest book from the library closer to me, a book on Greek Gods. I pick up where I left off in the thick book on the God of healing and medicine Asclepius. I read the passage about him, and it seemed promising, “He was considered a symbol of medical knowledge, skill, and wisdom. Known for his ability to heal the sick and revive the dead, Asclepius played an essential role in Greek religious and medical traditions…He was known for his exceptional skill in diagnosing diseases and treating wounds. His abilities were so profound that he could even bring the dead back to life, a talent that eventually led to his downfall…The Asclepieia, healing temples dedicated to the god, were spread throughout Greece and were renowned centers of medical practice. Pilgrims would travel great distances to seek healing, engaging in purification rituals, sacrifices, and dream incubation, where they would sleep in the temple and receive divine guidance through dreams.”

The rest of the chapter contains no more info on the healing aspect but just more of his legacy and whatnot. I close the book sharply, pulling open my laptop to do more research on him. Maybe a temple still existed, and considering Pilgrims there might even be one in America somewhere. Just as I type the temple name into Google a knock sounds from the door.

For a moment I think Sam forgot his keys, but when I turned to where he always was he was there. He looks at me confused and I shrug my shoulders, “Maybe it’s room service?” He answers by going to the door and opening it curiously. I watch from my seat, tilting my chair back to get a better look. But it is not room service, or someone knocking at the wrong door, it’s Dean. I almost fall backward, my chair slams forward back on all four legs I shoot up from my seat.

He leans on the doorframe, holding his side. He still has dark circles under his eyes and just looks sickly which is only accentuated by the black zip-up he wore, which was odd for him he never really wore sweaters. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sam exclaims his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. Dean limps his way just a little bit further into the room, leaning on a dresser next to the door, “I checked myself out,” he responds placing all his weight on the thing. I didn't even know a sick patient could check themselves out like that. “What, are you crazy?” Sam exclaims.

Dean shrugs, “Well, I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.” He turns his head to wink at me and gives me that devilish smile. My jaw dropped, baffled wasn't even the word to explain it. This had to be the most Dean Winchester thing Dean could have ever done, I could not fathom it. I wanted to call him an idiot but I was too shocked to give any response. Sam huffs a laugh as he shuts the door, “You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-danger-thing? It’s crap. I can see right through it, we both can.”

Dean moves himself further into the room leaning on anything he could, “Yeah, whatever, dude. Have either of you even slept? You look worse than me.” Sam helps him to the bed, sitting him down, “We’ve been scouring the Internet for the last three days.”

I sit back in my chair, scooting it so I can face them both, “I don't know how either of our laptops survived this. Late at night, I think I can hear it cry.”

Dean purses his lips, “Lack of sleep has made you crazy.” It was my turn to huff a laugh, and for that fraction of a second everything felt normal. But that moment of normalcy breaks as Sam adds, “I’ve also called every contact in Dad’s journal.” I was brought right back to the present, back to the reason we were doing all of this to begin with. “For what?” Dean asks.

“For a way to help you,” Sam explains, “One of Dad’s friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“Wait, why didn't you tell me sooner?” I ask.

“He called back when you were with Dean,” he answers, “I was going to tell you when you came back but didn't get the chance before he decided to break out.” I hum an ‘oh’ in response. “You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?” Dean chimes in, hunched over.

“I’m not gonna let you die, period. We’re going” Sam says, end of discussion.

The Impala bumps along the gravel road, I was beyond happy we finally arrived. The sky was cloudy and grey with a thin layer of mist clinging to everything, it reflected the past couple of days and the ride quite perfectly. Dean rested in the back seat the entire time, his face scrunched in discomfort, we stopped a couple of times so I could jump back there and heal him for a short while.

The car comes to a full stop among others in a large green field, a large white circus tent stealing the show. A sign nearby reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle. I was skeptical, but like Sam said our options were low. I wasn’t religious and certainly hated when things like this existed, giving people false hope and feeding them lies, when they could be looking at real options and getting real help but I guess I was being a hypocrite considering how I spent my time kneeling to a God I didn't believe in. Many people walked towards it, all sick, some with canes, walkers, breathing devices, etc. I get out of the car slowly, eyeing the scene carefully. We’re all just desperate people, hoping a tent in the middle of nowhere will save our loved ones.

Sam gets out of the car, rounding the vehicle to help his brother get out of the car. Dean grimaces as he tries to lift himself, “I got ya” Sam tells him trying to grab him but Dean shoves him away, “I got it” he spits. He fixes himself, pissed off, but uses the car to hold himself up leaning on it, “Man, you are a lying bastard. ‘Thought you said we were going to see a doctor.”

“I believe I said a specialist” Sam corrects. I squint my eyes at him, “You’re not slick. But…” I say stretching out the word, “We should try, at the very least.”

“And this guy is supposed to be the real deal” Sam adds, nodding. Dean scuffs, rolling his eyes, “I can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

An old woman walks by holding a big black umbrella, “Reverend LeGrange is a great man” she declares. “Yeah, that’s nice” Dean sarcastically remarks. I hold back on batting his arm as I would normally, “Be nice” I mumble instead.

We walk away from the old lady and the car heading toward the tent, walking past an angry man who is struggling against an officers hold, “I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he’s milking all these people of their hard-earned money.” I suck in a sharp breath, mumbling an “Amen, brother” underneath my breath. But the Sheriff seems to ignore the man's declaration, holding him back while trying to lead him away, “Sir, this is a place of worship. Let’s go. Move it.” The man huffs, walking away with the Sheriff. “I take it he’s not part of the flock” Dean remarks.

Sam purses his lips, half shrugging, “When people see something they can’t explain, there’s controversy.”

Dean stops short, getting our attention and making us stop too, “I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer? And what about you Y/N you don’t believe in this crap.”

I hold up my hands in surrender, “You're right. I don’t. And I think making a whole religion out of it that smells more like a cult than anything, it’s ridiculous. But there’s a good chance this is legit,” I drop my hands back at my side, “He’s probably using magic like I was doing with you, it's just that he's, hopefully, more successful.” He pressed his lips together tightly, I got him there. “See, maybe it’s time to have a little faith, Dean,” Sam adds.

“You know what I’ve got faith in?” Dean exclaims, “Reality. And this won’t work. I mean do you really think this guy is a dude-witch.”

I purse my lips, “I’m pretty sure the term would be a wizard, but, uh, I don't know. I’d have to see it in action to know for certain along with anything around him while he works, rituals and stuff.” I pause for a moment, thinking it over, “I do hope he’s real and not an elaborate con artist, and I hope he’s better than me at the whole healing thing.” I was being blatantly honest. I hoped it would encourage Dean to not fight this version of help, and I truly did wish this guy could help. “And if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” Sam chimes in, a hint of annoyance on his tongue. A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitches, “Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.”

Dean’s POV

I snapped in a moment of weakness and said too much. “Dean” she sighs, placing a gentle hand on my upper arm, stepping closer to me almost subconsciously. I didn’t want a lecture full of sappy nonsense and corny poetry. She must have known that because she smiled sadly, her lip curving up on one side, my eyes following the movement, “Good does exist, it has to,” she says simply ever the optimist. She tilts her head slightly, looking up at me through her curled eyelashes, her hand still on my arm, my knees feel weak. “I'm sure you can think of at least one good person. Of course, the terms good and evil are subjective…” she cuts her cute rambling off, “but you get what I mean.”

I guess she was right. Sammy’s a good person sometimes a total asshole but I guess that came with the territory of being brothers. And Y/N’s the definition of being a good person, she’s always been kind even to people who didn't deserve it, including me. I remember a couple of times I was cruel to her when we were kids, always about her being a witch, yet for some reason she accepted my apology and even wanted to keep being friends. For a long time, I didn’t understand her, ‘how she could be sweet and smile at a world filled with darkness. Sometimes I think I still don't get her. “Please just give it a try,” she pleads, “And if it doesn't work or turns out to be a con you can make fun of us the whole way back.”

I studied her again, she looked drained and I knew she hadn't been sleeping all because of me. “Fine” I huff. She bites back a smile and suddenly complying with this stupid faith healer was worth it.

“And who knows, maybe God works in mysterious ways” an unfamiliar voice butts in. I didn't care to look who it was, solely focused on the girl who still had her hand on me; a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, one I hadn't seen in three days. “Maybe he does” I respond, half heartily, I look up briefly catching the eyes of an attractive blonde holding a black umbrella. I averted my eyes back to my girl, but she was already looking away at the woman who interrupted us, her hand slipped down my arm.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N” she introduces herself, holding out the hand that was touching me only moments ago. She accepts her hand, “Layla. And these two?” Layla says looking past her. “Sam,” he introduces himself before motioning to me, “Dean.” I give her a tightlipped smile in response.

She smiles at me, “So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you here?” She was attractive, you’d have to be blind not to see it but my interest is elsewhere. I can't fool myself into thinking that'll work out. Hell, I'm probably gonna end up dead. And yeah, it's harsh, but I can't shake the feeling that I'd rather spend what time I've got with Y/N, not waste it chasing after other girls just to fill the gap she left without even knowing it. I’m self-aware enough to know that. “Well, apparently my brother here believes enough for the both of us” I muse. An older woman with blondish-gray hair walks over, putting an arm around the girl, “Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” Both women smile at us before walking away.

“Well, you heard the woman,” Y/N starts, “We should get you inside.” Sam nods leading the way.

Your POV

The tent is packed, full of people trying to find seats, it smells of hope and despair if that’s possible. “Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over,” Dean remarks, nodding over to a camera in the corner. Did churches have cameras? “I guess it makes sense,” I try to reason, “‘probably get more people like that dude outside protesting, maybe even getting violent.”

Dean slips away sitting down on one of the foldable chairs. “Hey no,” I point at him, “You are not gonna be all brooding and hide in the back.” His shoulders slump, “Let’s sit here.”

“No” I answer simply, eyebrows scrunched. He opens his mouth in a retort but his brother steps in, putting an arm around him and practically dragging him from the seat and towards the front, “Oh, come, on, Sam” Dean growls. Mistaking his anger for pain Sam halts in his movements, “You alright?”

“This is ridiculous” Dean bites, slapping his brother’s hands away, “I’m good, dude, get off of me.” I roll my eyes at their behavior, even in public, and even with one of them being severely sick they could still act childish and make a scene. I look around the closer rows, looking for seats, “Look at that” I smile turning back to the boys, “seats” I point to three empty seats not only close to the front but right behind Layla, the girl from before. She seemed nice, maybe a little strange in randomly joining the conversation but it wasn’t a big deal. “Perfect” Sam agrees, lightly shoving his brother in that direction. “Yeah, perfect” Dean remarks, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Take the aisle,” Sam tells his brother before moving into the row of seats, I move in after him taking the seat between them. Dean grumbles something, his face having ‘irritable’ all over it, but he sits quietly, arms crossed.

An old man with white hair and sunglasses steps onto the stage with the help of an older woman with brown hair tied back. He must be the famous Roy LeGrange, “Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says with a classic southern accent, the crowd muttering agreements, “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.”

“He could say that aga–'' I began to mumble. “Huh” I hum to myself, my eyes catching on a particular religious item, why would there be a Celtic cross? I mean the cross represented the blending of the Celts and Christians but there are many separations between the two from believing in multiple gods to human sacrifice–

“But, I say to you, God is watching,” he preaches, and if I wasn't so focused on that wooden cross I might have rolled my eyes forgetting my manners, especially when the crowd responded with “Yes he is.” It sounded very cultish, the hair on my arms standing up. Maybe it wasn’t that weird for there to be a Celtic cross, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling. I racked my brain for information on it, and I just couldn’t see it used in Christian churches anymore. Though of course, I could be wrong, it's not like I go to church every day or even once a week. But again it felt a little too weird to just brush off–

“God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt” Roy continued getting loud cheering and more murmuring. I look at the people around me strangely, I forget how powerful religion is…

Speaking of which, that damn Celtic cross again. Alright, think. The Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension, the vertical arm represents the life aspect while the horizontal arm signifies death, the circle acting as a portal to transformation. In simpler terms, the cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the Celtic cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. But what does that mean here? Okay, well he’s supposedly healing people which would be the life aspect and the death could represent the healing cheating death? No, that sounded like a stretch. Maybe this was all a stretch and the cross meant nothing. I’m just overreacting because I'm scared of what will become of this if this man was a con or whatever else. Yeah, that makes more sense—

“It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts,” Roy proclaimed.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers just loud enough for Sam and me to hear, “and into their wallets.” But it wasn’t quiet enough, “You think so, young man?” Oh, that was weird. The crowd falls dead silent, “Sorry” Dean apologizes. “No, no. Don’t be.” Roy shakes his head, “Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” The crowd laughs but an unpleasant feeling worms itself into my stomach. It was innocent enough but something felt off and I don't think it has anything to do with Dean being scrutinized. “What’s your name, son?” Roy asks. He clears his throat, sitting straighter in his seat, “Dean.”

“Dean” Roy repeats nodding to himself, “I want…I want you to come up here with me.” My eyes widened, maybe God finally listened. “No, it’s okay” he shakes his head. “What are you doing?!” Sam whisper-yells, but his brother ignores him.

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy inquires.

“Well, yeah, but, uh…maybe you should just pick someone else” Dean attempts to reason. And I hate the way he doesn't believe he is worthy of saving. The crowd claps loudly, “Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Had we been here for any other reason I might have been more disturbed by that proclamation, but this was a chance. The crowd roars in excitement, voices mixed in encouragement. Dean looks overwhelmed, I place a hand on his knee gaining his attention quickly, “Dean, this is good, go” I whisper to him even though I was unsure of this whole thing and that odd cross. He studies me for half a moment, something I couldn't recognize passing over his features before he reluctantly raises, my hand slipping from his leg.

The woman from before helps Dean to the stage, situating him next to the healer, “You ready?” he asks Dean. “Look, no disrespect, but, uh, I’m not exactly a believer,” Dean says, looking between the crowd and the old man. But Roy just smiles, “You will be, son. You will be,” he turns to the crowd arms raised, “Pray with me, friends.” Again, almost like a cult, the crowd joins hands as Roy moves his hands to place on Dean; one on his shoulder and the other to the side of his head. I hold my breath, I want this to work so badly, I hadn't even begun to think of a plan B if this didn't.

Suddenly Dean’s eyes glaze over, it was never like that when I healed him, and then he seems to wobble sinking to his knees. I gasped, I didn't think it would be so intense or that my heart would beat so fast. A deep chill runs up my spine seeping into my bones, my skin prickles with goosebumps, the Celtic cross comes into view again and I suddenly feel sick, a horrible feeling tangling itself in between my stomach. I don't know where to look the cross or Dean, my eyes flipping between the two rapidly all until Dean's eyes roll back and he crumbles down onto the stage floor. Sam manages to jump over me, using his long legs to his advantage he gets to the stage in seconds grabbing the front of Dean's hoodie. I catch up quickly, glad we were close to the stage, I kneel in front of Dean his head lulling back. The loud noise of the crowd cheering becomes nothing but background noise, as I check his pulse my fingers against the side of his neck the steady but fast beating of his heart thumping below my touch.

With a sudden gasp his eyes shoot open, eyes wide and mouth agape.

I tap my foot impatiently on the clean floors of the hospital, thankful that right after testing I was allowed to be in the room. Dean looked better, he moved normally and his color was back, but we all agreed we should check officially. Now we were waiting and although the room sparked with anxiety, the dark looming cloud had cleared up a lot, and once we knew for sure it would most likely be gone. I just wished the doctor would come quicker. “So, you really feel okay?” Sam asks for the hundredth time since Dean woke from being healed yesterday. Dean stares at him blankly, “I feel fine, Sam” he grumbles.

Finally, the Doctor walks in, reading from the charts on his clipboard, “Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still strange things happen.” The cloud fades away, and I don’t hold back my beaming smile. “What do you mean, strange?” Dean asks, his face serious rather than elated. “Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack,” the doctor shares. Dean nods, giving the man a handshake, “Thanks, Doc.” The man leaves, closing the door behind him. “That’s odd,” Dean points out, referring to what the doctor said.

“Maybe it's a coincidence,” Sam shrugs, “People's hearts give out all the time, man.” I looked at him taken aback, what was he talking about, “Dude, what world are you living in?” He gives me a pointed look, annoyed with not only my response but also my not agreeing with him, “Do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life, Dean, and move on?”

“Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why” Dean bites back. I sigh, wishing we could just avoid this all, “Me neither.” Dean gives me a strange look, “You neither?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I just, I don’t know, when we sat down I recognized something which automatically made me suspicious. Then you know the whole thing was happening and, well, maybe it was just nerves but it got really cold and I felt sort of sick. Which really doesn't make sense, but I just had this weird feeling, I don’t know.”

“I felt cold too,” Dean answers, face scrunched, “When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong, ‘cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, it was a spirit.” Maybe it wasn’t nerves and I wasn’t crazy. Sam huffs, clearly trying to ignore the red flags here, “But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately.”

“Alright, but he literally saw something and I felt something.” I reason, “You can’t deny two people saying something’s up, and whatever it was there’s probably a reason why you couldn’t see it.”

“You’re just gonna need a little faith on this one, Sam” Dean muses, using his own words against him. Sam sighs, finally giving in, “Yeah, alright. So, what do you wanna do?”

Dean steps into the leader role again, as if nothing had happened, “I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. Y/N, we’re gonna visit the reverend.”

I sit next to Dean on the nice leather couch, Roy sitting across from us. He and his wife had been very understanding and didn’t question our want to speak to him about yesterday, I figure he got this a lot. “I feel great,” Dean answers the reverend, “Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.”

“A miracle is what happened,” Sue Ann, Roy’s wife and the woman from before answered, “Well, miracles come so often around Roy.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and nod, maybe it was just me but that response came off a little weird. I was getting a bad vibe from her, “So, um, when did these miracles start?” I ask Roy. Any desire to possibly learn from him had been subdued, caution taking its place. “Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.'” He smiled sweetly at his wife before continuing, “I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” He takes off his black sunglasses, his eyes pure white, “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.” He puts the glasses back on, it was a touching story and his eyes added a horrifying touch but it just left more questions.

He seemed genuine, and I don’t think he would lie about being in a coma. When you’re sick like that, and experience something like that, you don’t create lies about your experience, not when it was traumatic like that. And staying on that belief, there was no way he suddenly just stopped having cancer and was able to heal people. He couldn’t have been responsible for whatever caused his initial health change. Which would then mean someone else was involved. “So then, you could just…heal people?” I ask.

“I discovered it afterward, yes,” he nods, "God's blessed me in many ways.” It didn’t add up. I couldn’t get it to add up in my head. Besides the whole no more sickness ideal, how could he just suddenly heal someone? I mean, how do you even discover you can? Was it an accident? Did the hypothetical person who might have caused him to get better tell him too? Or, tell him to try? Whereas for me I knew it was something I was capable of in general as a witch, but I also had many spell books, history books, journals, and everything to learn from. And if my mother had lived longer she would have been able to teach me it too.

“And his flock just swelled overnight,” Sue Ann added, her eyes full of endearment, “And this is just the beginning.” I study her for a moment, balancing on the thin line of suspicion and paranoia. There was nothing inherently wrong about her or what she said, and maybe it was my mind making up the fact that her last words were just a little aggressive.

“Can I ask you one last question?” Dean asks, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Of course you can,” Roy responded sincerely. He really does seem like a nice guy, genuine, and it could be my inherent lack of sleep that’s making me connect dots that might not even be there. “Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” My heart broke. Of course he didn’t feel adequate, especially when he tried convincing us for the last four days he wasn't worth saving, that we should give up and let him die. I place a careful hand on his knee, I don’t want to scare him away or clam up again, he never was very open. “Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me,” Roy answers, “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

Dean wets his lips, my eyes flickering up to the movement, he leans forward slightly, “What did you see in my heart?” I move my gaze away catching on Sue Ann’s innocent movement of picking up her glass of water, but as she leans over her necklace escapes from its place beneath her shirt. A small wooden Celtic Cross held by a thin silver chain, she catches my eyes, covering the cross with her hand and giving me an innocent smile. She assumes I would think it's just any ol’ cross, she does run religious ceremonies so such a simple totem shouldn’t mean anything else. Maybe there were dots to connect after all, and it was on full display ready to be fastened. I focused my attention back on the conversation, I left my bag in the car so I’d have to wait, and in the meanwhile, I did not wish for her to get suspicious of me either.

Roy smiles softly, “A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.” I feel Dean tense beneath my hand, his face full of shock. Whether Roy did see something or not, it might have been the thing Dean needed to hear regardless.

I wanted to run back to the car and look through my spell book and journal, but Sue Ann was seeing us out and if I had easily become suspicious of her then it was possible she would grow suspicious of what I knew too. I could almost feel her gaze burning into the back of my head, but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Dean's warm hand on the small of my back leading me down the short wooden stairs of their porch. But I had not expected to see Layla and the woman she was with before, I think her mother. “Dean, Y/N, hey,” she greets. “Hey,” Dean responds just as we reach ground level, his hand pressing further into my back before curling around my waist, his hand lying on my side before he pushes me closer against him. I don’t know why he was being so touchy, not that I was exactly complaining. I welcomed it and the warmth it brought.

“How ‘you feeling?” She asks him, tilting her head slightly, her face beaming in sincerity. “I feel good. Cured, I guess. What are you doing here?” he responds.

“You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the reverend.” Layla nods toward the door prompting Sue Ann to step fully onto the porch rather than standing halfway between the screen door. “Layla?” she asks, probably not having seen her from where she stood. “Yes, I'm here again,” Layla answers softly.

“Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now.” Sue Ann informed, nodding sympathetically. Every word she said just made me want to turn around and head to the car, I was itching for it. I wondered if Dean could feel it from where he was touching me or just sensed it, giving me a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. But I couldn’t exactly say anything right now so I ignored his look.

“Sue Ann, please,” Layla’s mom pleads, “This is our sixth time, he's got to see us.”

“Roy is well aware of Layla's situation,” Sue Ann declares harshly, “And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke.” And with that, she goes back inside. I might not know exactly what’s going on but her continuous frustrated comments regarding the healing and her perhaps overly religious nature were enough to make me antsy. We should really go to the car, call Sam to see what he found, or even just head to the hotel. Layla’s mom turns sharply to Dean, glaring at him she spits, “Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted.”

“Mom. Stop” Layla insists, looking at us nervously.

“No, Layla, this is too much” her mom fumed, “We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you. Strangers who don't even believe. I just can't pray any harder.” I do feel bad for her, but it's not like we had control over any of this so she shouldn't be mad at us let alone Dean who was quite literally on his deathbed and might not have made it to the end of the week. I open my mouth to say exactly that, but Dean cuts me off before I get a chance, “Layla, what’s wrong?” he asks.

She looks everywhere but him, “I have this thing…”

“It's a brain tumor,” her mother cuts in bluntly, “It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say…” Layla cuts her mom off putting a hand on her shoulder. Maybe it was good Dean didn’t let me say what I wanted to, it would’ve been too cruel to do that to someone who was going to lose her daughter. It seemed like we were surrounded by death, more now than ever and I hadn’t thought that could be possible. I didn’t like death, or sickness though I suppose who does. “I'm sorry” Dean says, and I just nod in agreement not trusting my own voice. “It's okay” Layla responds softly. Her mother shakes her head slowly, “No. It isn't,” her sharp gaze is back on Dean, “Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?” Then she storms away, Layla hesitantly following. I know that woman was just upset and projecting her anger but it was not fair. Grief isn’t fair.

I look at Dean, his jaw clenched tightly, a slight furrow of his brow, his eyes a little far away in thought. I recognized that look. “Don’t listen to her” I declare, slipping from his hold to look at him straight on, “Death is not kind and it is not just, but you deserve to live. You deserve to live just as much as Layla or anyone else does. I know that look and I know you're thinking poorly of yourself, which I hate that you do so ‘cause you’re amazing and brave and kind and you care so much for others regardless of your gruff attitude.” His eyes are wide and written with shock but I continue, “So don’t think for one second that you don’t deserve to live.” I didn’t realize my chest was heaving, or that a lump had formed in my throat. I’ve watched too many people die, I’ve been down the rabbit hole of grief. I knew it well, it became a second skin. And I've watched someone run themselves into the ground because they didn’t feel like they deserved to live, or at least not when the love of their life was dead. I watched the evolution of that grief while dealing with my own and my brother’s. Death was not kind.

His jaw was slack with surprise and I know I said too much, I gave him a sharp awkward nod before turning around and heading for the car. I have something to look into.

Dean throws his keys on the bed the second we enter, the soft jingle of the metal ringing through the quiet room. I unzipped my sweatshirt, making my way towards Sam who sat at the small table to the side of the room. I take a seat next to him, putting my sweater behind me, “So what’d you find?” He seems hesitant to answer, his adam's apple bobbing, “Um, I’m sorry Dean” he says weakly looking up at his brother.

Dean takes his jacket off putting it on top of mine, his face written in confusion, “Sorry about what?” he asks, leaning on the back of my chair, his knuckles just barely brushing my back. Sam huffs out a breath, “Marshall Hall died at 4:17.” My eyes widened, I shouldn’t be surprised it was just another dot to be connected to whatever was going on with the damn cross. “The exact time I was healed” Dean adds solemnly, voicing what we were all thinking.

“Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits,” Sam explains, “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.”

“Oh frick” I mumble, apparently nothing is allowed to be easy for us. And I wasn’t exactly expecting that to be what we’re dealing with. “Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?” Dean asks for confirmation, even though it’s clear that’s what’s going on. “Somehow. LeGrange…” Sam sighs, “he's trading a life for another.”

Dean stands up straight backing away from the table, from Sam, “Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?” Sam shakes his head, “Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.”

“You never should've brought me here.” Dean declares, running a hand down his face.

“Dean, I was just trying to save your life.” Sam reasons.

“But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me.”

“I didn't know,” Sam answers quietly.

I stand up abruptly, “Hey, there’s nothing we can do about that now. What’s done is done.” This all got very complicated very quickly, maybe Adeline was right you can’t save someone from death without making difficult decisions and sacrifices. “But what we can do is stop this from happening again, before it gets worse” I add and I know I don’t sound so convincing. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, and we had crossed that line whether intentionally or not, just wanting to save Dean from death was already putting a foot past that line. “That’s the thing I don't understand, how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?” Sam questions. “Oh, he’s not doing it,” Dean answers, “Something else is doing it for him.”

“Do you mean the thing with Sue Ann?” I ask with a tilt of my head, maybe he had picked up on it too. “What?” his face contorts in confusion, “No? What are you talking about?”

“Oh” I say, now I'm confused, “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“What are both of you talking about?!” Sam exclaims looking between us. Dean sighs, pinching the space between his brows, “The old man I saw on stage” he explains, “I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down I knew.” He pauses and I begin to wonder if it’s for dramatic affect. I motion my hand for him to continue and he does, “There’s only one thing that can give and take life like that. We’re dealing with a Reaper.”

“Pardon?” I say, my mouth agape. “Yeah,” Sam agrees, face just as shocked as I am, “You really think it's THE Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?”

“No no no, not THE reaper, A reaper.” Dean clarifies, taking the seat I once occupied, “There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” My mouth still hangs open, it can never be something normal with us, ever. “But you said you saw a dude in a suit,” Sam voiced.

“What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?” Dean countered, “You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you guys couldn't.”

“Oh my god,” I say, the realization finally hitting me, “That’s where it comes in!” Both boys stare at me confused, “Where what comes in?” Sam asks.

“Okay, remember I said I recognized something and thought it was a little strange,” I paused waiting for them to nod before continuing, “It was a Celtic Cross, which was all I could focus on the entire time ‘cause like what is it doing there. And then I started thinking of what it symbolizes, here’s the interesting part” I point out, “So basically, the Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension. The cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. Which now makes total sense with the whole Reaper thing.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m not following here” Dean admits. I huff a laugh, “Right. Let me get to the point. So, as far as I know someone has to control the Reaper to, you know, dictate who lives and dies and to do that you need a spell. And I’ve seen it before…” I head over to my bag that I had just plopped down right next to the door when we walked in, I pull out my spell book holding it up, “This book has been in my family for generations. Now as you know my mother and her family didn’t see eye to eye, so when it eventually became my mothers and she ran away she changed a lot of stuff in here, crossing things out etc.” I open the book, flicking through the pages, “Basically there’s some pretty dark stuff in here, straight up black magic, some stuff even ancient,” finally I find the page, “Aha!” I turn the book around pointing at the page, “As you can see by the frowny face in the corner my mother did not appreciate this spell. Anyways, this is a binding spell for a Reaper where you create a black alter with bones and human blood etc, you get the point. You can then control it with a Celtic Cross, and before I saw Sue Ann with the necklace.”

“So you think Sue Ann is using dark magic to control a Reaper and kill people to save people because you saw a necklace?” Sam asks. I close the book, “Yeah, and it makes sense she was desperate when her husband was sick. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner.” I knew this page existed, I've seen it in passing multiple times, especially some time since Dean was in the hospital. I guess I did listen to Adeline’s warning because even though I was ready to go far to save him I had kept away from pages like this. “Yeah but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?” Dean points out. I shrug, “Money? She’s psycho? I don’t know, maybe there’s a connection with the victims.”

“How would we break it?” Sam voices.

“We gotta get that cross from her, the one around her neck” I answer, “And let me just add, that Reaper is gonna be pissed, I mean the second it gains back its control…” I don’t need to say it out loud for them to get what I mean.

The Impala bounces down the badly graveled and potholed road, passing a sign that says Service Today. Hopefully we will be just in time. Dean brings the car to a stop and wordlessly we exit, “How do we get Sue Ann alone?” Sam asks. I nervously tap the side of my legs as we approach the tent, some guy handing out leaflets stops us, “Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He's no healer.” Dean accepts the paper, “Amen brother” he nods. “You keep up the good work” Sam points at the man and he looks taken aback, he probably didn’t get many if any people that agreed. “Thank you,” he says, surprised.

Focusing back on the task at hand I open my mouth about to say something about not knowing where she goes when she does the spell when I spot her near the side of the tent, “I see her” I say already moving in that direction, “Find her spell book and keep Roy distracted too in case this does not work.” I don’t wait to hear a response before I’m running off to catch up with the woman playing God, “Sue Ann!” I call as I approach. She turns, her eyes wide, the necklace peeking out from her blouse, “Hi Y/N, what are you doing back here?” she asks sweetly.

“Oh well you guys are doing such amazing stuff here, wanted to say thank you one last time before we had to head off” I answered hoping my lie was believable. “Don’t thank us, you just thank the Lord” She says pointing to the night sky. I nod, I had to keep her talking long enough to figure out how to get the necklace off, “I have to admit I always had a hard time believing in the man upstairs, but you and Roy really turned me around.”

“Oh I’m glad, it’s never too late to welcome Him into your heart,” she smiles, “Now if you’ll excuse me I must get going, the sermon is starting.” Uh oh, do I just rip it off of her? No, she’s already turning around, “One last thing!” I call out getting her attention again. This time when she turns around she looks annoyed, “Uh, um…”come on Y/N come up with a lie or something, “I saw your necklace earlier today, I think you caught me staring,” I laugh, “I was just…I was wondering where you got it from I’ve never seen something like that before.” She clasps her necklace, “It’s just an old thing, I don’t remember where I got it from.”

“Could I maybe take a closer look at it? Maybe I can find a replica, you know, for my new found belief.” I was practically begging her to just let this be easy, maybe I should ask Dean to give me a lesson on finessing cause this is not working. She clasps it tighter, “I’m sorry, maybe later I really have to help with the sermon now.”

“Right, right sorry” she begins to turn around again but I call out again, “I know you said to thank the Lord and I have and will, it’s just” that gets her attention, “I feel like you and Roy are also responsible and like I said I came to thank you again…I know it’s maybe unprofessional or what not, but, could I just give you a hug? You’ve really done so much for us.” God I was bad at this. Her face softens a fraction, hey maybe I wasn’t bad at this, “Of course.” She holds out her arms and I move closer to allow myself to be embraced, I wrap my arms near her neck hoping she couldn’t feel the tension in my body. “Thank you” I say softly, all the while sneaking my hand to the clasp of her necklace.

She pulls away abruptly, once more grasping her necklace, “What is wrong with you!” she exclaims. I back up, hands up in defense, “After everything we’ve done to help you, healing your boy” she glares at me with wide eyes, “I never expected this from you Y/N.” I stare at her blankly, do I jump her? “You get out of here, before I call over those officers. Looks like your boy is already in trouble too. Disappointing, both of you.”

I look over my shoulder, Dean’s being pushed away by two cops and there’s a large crowd surrounding the tent including Roy. Maybe they evacuated. I turn back to Sue Ann but she’s already pushing past me, heading to the crowd. Oh no. Layla walks up to him next and she seems to be upset with him. How much did I miss? I rush towards Dean, Layla walking away, “What did you do?” I whisper yell. “You said to distract Roy!” he argues.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble with the police!”

“‘Don’t matter, did you get it?” Dean asks with a quirked eyebrow. “No,” I grumble, “She caught me in my attempt and started lecturing me, I was thinking of just jumping her before she pointed out your run in with the police.”

“You were gonna jump the woman?!” He exclaims.

“I didn’t know what to do!!” I hissed, “And it’s not like I did it!” I let out a frustrated sigh, crossing my arms across my chest, “We need a new plan, where’s Sammy?”

“‘Think he’s waiting by the car, ‘hope he’s got somethin’ Roy’s gonna do a private healing session with Layla tonight.”

“Great,” I mumble, “I really should have jumped her.”

I sit criss cross applesauce on the hard motel bed. For a hunt that I knew so much about I had royally blown it. She was right there. The necklace right there. “Please tell me you found something helpful in their home” I pleaded.

“I found the spell book, written by a priest who went dark side,” Sam answers, holding up the small book, “And she isn’t just killing random people. She’s forcing the Reaper to kill people she finds immoral, from some teacher who was openly gay to a woman who advocated for abortion rights.” The room fell quiet for a moment, there were more layers to this than we thought. “May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work” Dean muses.

“No seriously that’s messed up,” I add, shaking my head. “Yeah,” Sam nods, “I think you should hold onto this book Y/N.” He hands it over and I hold it cautiously in my hand, “How nice.” I’ll probably spend the next couple of days reading it over before ultimately sending it home, I did not need a spell book on dark magic with me, didn't even need to own it but rather me than get in the wrong hands.

“We should head back soon” Dean says, “Layla could be there any minute”

The Impala rolls over the graveled road for the second and hopefully final time today, this time with total darkness cloaking us no lights on. We roll to a stop, “That's Layla's car. She's already here,” Sam points out.

Dean nods slowly, “Yeah.” He was upset, “Dean…” Sam began. But Dean ignores him, looking out the window instead, “You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gonna die in a coupla’ months.” I should’ve known my dramatic speech from before wouldn’t magically resolve him of his guilt, no one has that power. “What's happening to her is horrible,” Sam reasons, “But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.”

Dean goes quiet for a beat before getting out of the car, Sam and I following. We approach the tent, peeking inside to see Roy speaking to a small group of people including Layla and her mom, “Gather round, please everyone, gather round. Come in closer, come on up.”

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean whispers. I tried to crane my neck to look around the tent, maybe she was off to the side somewhere… “House,” Sam answers simply.

We creep up to the small house, weary of making too much noise we couldn’t afford to get caught, “You guys go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up,” Dean orders. I look at him confused, “Wait, what are you gonna—“ But Dean’s already backing away from us yelling, “Hey!” to two figures in the distance. “You gonna put that fear of God in me?” he yells out, of course he would be taunting the police. The officers drop what looks to be coffee cups before running after him, Dean taking off at full speed. Only he would do something so stupid. “Uh, anyways” I begin, “If she’s doing it at her house she’s probably by the altar, and considering the size and necessities of the thing and the fact her husband doesn't know it would have to be in an attic or basement.”

“I’ll offer you one better” Sam nods off to the side of the building, “a cellar.” He was right, that would be better. And on top of that definite light emerges from the metal doors. Sam leads the way opening up the heavy doors and propping it open as he makes his way down first. I follow suit immediately being hit with the sight that is the altar, a small table adorned with candle operas filled by tall burning candles, parts of dead animals, bones and blood sprawled out meticulously across the red table cloth. And right in the middle was a black and white surveillance photo of Dean before he was healed, the photo smeared in blood.

“I gave him life and I can take it back too” A familiar voice suddenly says. Sue Ann. I turn around hastily being met with cold eyes, behind me I hear a large crash and I don’t have to look to know Sam had flipped over the table. Her eyes flip to the scene and I use the initial shock to rush her, but she was already close to the stairs so it did not take her long to sweep up them slamming the cellar doors behind her. Something clicks and shifts, she must have locked us in here. Sam joins me at my side, pushing and fighting against the barred doors. ��Can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked,” she reasons, “And Dean is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will.”

Oh, so that twisted psycho thinks that’s how it is. Well she messed with the wrong witch. “You're gonna wanna back up” I tell Sam. I press my palms to the cold metal of the doors, I’m pissed now. No one gets to use magic, let alone dark magic, on either of my boys. The doors begin to rattle harshly, almost as if there’s an earthquake, “Goodbye Sam, Y/N” she says. I put more force on the door, my entire being focused on it until it burst open bits of chipped paint and screws flying away, a satisfying break of the wood she used to block us ringing in my ears as broken bits of the wood come crashing back down.

Sue Ann stands but a couple feet away, her eyes wide as she watches me exit the cellar with shock and fear. She backs up further and I follow after her like a predator trapping its prey. “I-I read about things like you” she says weakly, her voice shaking. She keeps backing up, “You’re a—You’re a—“ her back hits the wall of a nearby trailer house. “Witch” I finished for her, yanking off that necklace once and for all.

I throw it off to the side, far away, and back up from her. My job was done and the Reaper would come knocking for its own revenge. “My God, what have you done?,” she heaves, pressing a hand to where her necklace used to be. “He’s not your God” Sam says cooly. Her head snaps to something in the distance, her face falls growing pale she must be seeing the Reaper. Then all at once she takes off running, not making it very far before she falls to her knees, her body convulsing once, twice, before falling to the ground. “I think we have just aided in her murder” I muse.

“Yeah…” Sam nods, “We should probably…” This time I nod, not saying anything as we walk away from the crime heading back in the direction of the Impala. We intercept Dean on the way, meeting at the car. I give him a small thumbs up to say we did it this time and he nods solemnly. “You okay?” Sam asks him.

“Hell of a week” he answers.

I glanced up from my phone for the fifth time in the last minute. I was trying to text Adeline to update her on everything but kept getting distracted by Dean's blank face as he stared off at nothing while sitting in bed. I made eye contact with Sam, giving him a sad smile, we were thinking the same thing. He turns to his brother, watching him for a moment before speaking, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Dean replies gruffly. Sam looks back at me again and I give him an encouraging nod, “What is it?” he asks again this time more gently.

“We did the right thing here didn't we?” Dean asks, finally breaking. It was difficult to answer him, on one hand we stopped someone from playing God and killing people who they found immoral in which none of the victims were bad people, it wasn’t like they were criminals but to her they were still wicked (god forbid someone has a different opinion than you). But on the other hand it was saving people, except to pay one life for another wasn’t exactly gracious work. Yet, we were doing the same thing, trying to play God and cheat death. I had even admitted to being willing to make great scarface’s to do so, in that aspect I wasn’t so different from Sue Ann in the very beginning.

“Of course we did,” Sam answers, and he really does sound sure. Dean sighs, hanging his head, “It doesn't feel like it.” Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and the parallel from only earlier in the week is not lost on me, “I got it” Sam volunteers getting up from his seat to open the door, “Hey Layla. Come on in.”

Huh.

“Hey” she waves awkwardly. Dean quickly rises from his place on the bed, “How did you know we were here?”

“Sam...called. He said you...wanted to say goodbye?”

Dean glances at Sam and I join in on the glaring, he really needs to start telling me things sooner. But he just smiles sheepishly, “I'm gonna...grab a soda.”

I stand abruptly from my chair, Dean should have his time with Layla. Maybe he won’t feel as guilty, “I’m gonna join you” I declare, “A soda sounds great!” I follow Sam out the door, closing it behind me.

[dw19791967]

That Type of Girl Part 1

Pairing: Dean x reader (Eventual), Sam x reader (Platonic)

Warnings: language, unrequited love, slight angst, some fluff

This is the first fic I have ever written, all mistakes are my own. Please be gentle on me!

_____________________

I had never been the type of girl that men would look at twice. I have always been on the heavy side of the scale. I have a big gut, small ass, and ok sized boobs. After struggling with my confidence for a better part of my life, when I hit my 20’s I stopped caring about what others thought of me. But I would still wear clothes a size or two too big. But I felt confident (for the most part). I didn’t give a rats ass what most people thought of me, which definitely helped when it came to hunting. 

My life changed forever when I met the Winchesters. Sam was like the big brother I never had. Dean…well, that was a different story. Everything in me knew the moment I met him, that he was something special. The way he could make me laugh, make me smile, make me feel appreciated. No one had ever made me feel the things he did. But I knew he would never see me as more than a friend, and after some time I was ok with that. I knew a man like him would never even consider being with a girl like me. 

“What ya thinking about Y/N?” said Sam. We were currently sitting in a roadside bar after we finished our most recent hunt. Of course Dean was busy flirting with some gorgeous blonde, leaving Sam and I to our own devices.

“Just thinking about what life would be like if we weren’t hunters.” I lied of course. I was thinking about why couldn’t I be the type of girl Dean would turn to for more than friendship. Something I thought about pretty frequently.

“Do you really want that type of life ?” Sam stated with a curious look on his face. 

“Hell no, I’m not made for normal. Just always like to think about where I would be ya know? Would I be married, have 2.5 kids, and a full time job or would I be a crazy cat lady.” I giggled.

“Well considering you're allergic to cats you definitely would not be a crazy cat lady.” Sam was laughing.

“You’re right Sammy, guess there goes that day dream.” I said. I couldn’t stop watching Dean. I really needed to find something else to occupy my time.

“You know I see how you look at him.” Sam said.

“I don’t know what you mean Sammy.” I replied.

“Y/N you should tell him how you feel, you never know he may feel the same way.” Sam looked at me with an optimistic grin.

“Yeah right Sam, I’m going to the restroom then I’m heading out. You boys can stay and have some much deserved fun.” I got up to head towards the restroom, if only Sam knew how deep I was in.

______

The following day after returning to the bunker the night before, I got up around 6:00 to make the boys breakfast. It was something I did every now and then, even though I made a pretty shitty cook. I rolled out of bed and put some shorts on. I had an old AC/DC shirt on (I didn’t bother wearing a bra since the shirt was baggy), threw my hair up in a messy bun and was ready to get to work. I made my way to the kitchen as quietly as I could. Evidently I tend to stomp when I walk in the bunker halls (according to Sam), so it is something I am trying to work on. I got the eggs and bacon out. Scrambled would have to be it for today because I don’t have the patience to try anything else. Sam made his way into the kitchen as I was finishing up with the bacon.

“Well good morning sunshine!” Sam sang.

“Damn Sammy can you keep it down somewhat, you know how I feel about being happy first thing in the morning.” I covered my ears.

“Oh yes so sorry grumpy pants” Sam laughed.

“I’m pretty sure you are like the only person I have ever seen to be so excited at 6:30 in the morning.” I finished putting some eggs on a plate for him.

“Well why are you up so early anyway? You made us breakfast?” Sam asked.

“Well yes you big giant, I did. I felt like doing something nice even if I am a grumpy pants.” I sat his plate down in front of him.

“Well I appreciate it and I’m sure Dean will too. Where is Dean?” Sam took a bite of his eggs.

“Pretty sure he is still sleeping, I’ll wake him up on my way to shower. How does it taste?” I asked.

“It is actually pretty good, way to go Y/N you have finally learned how to make eggs!” Sam was laughing. I enjoyed the teasing banter we had with one another, it made me happy that we didn’t always have to take things so seriously.

“Haha very funny, looks like now I will have to cook more often.” I stated as I walked out of the kitchen.

Heading down the hall I stopped at Dean’s room. I opened his door slightly, he was sprawled out over his bed snoring loudly. Blondie must have tired him out last night. I usually don’t like waking him up because he has such a hard time sleeping. Especially lately but I knew he would be pissed if he missed out on bacon. I made my way over to him.

“Dean” I whispered.

“Dean I made breakfast” I patted his shoulder.

He rolled over and opened his eyes. Looking at me in a way that almost made me blush.

“Hey sweetheart, what time is it?” he asked.

“7:00” I stated.

“Damn I actually slept in some, that was amazing.”

I’m sure it was, I stated to myself. Damn my jealousy.

“Well I just wanted to let you know there is eggs and bacon, Sam said that I actually learned how to make eggs so guess that means they are good this time. I laughed. “ I’m gonna take a quick shower then I will meet you back out there” I said.

“You had me at bacon” he got up and stretched. 

“Well good morning sleeping beauty” stated Sam.

“God it smells amazing in here” Dean said with a grin.

Dean loaded up a plate with tons of bacon and a few scoops of eggs.

“Damn this is awesome” Dean moaned.

“Would you like me to give you some alone time with that?” Sam laughed.

“Sammy, she seriously knows how to make my damn morning. This bacon might be the best I have ever eaten.”

“Well she has been up since 6 working on it so I’m glad you are enjoying it.” Sam was reading something on his laptop now.

“What would we do without her?” Dean wondered aloud.

“What would we do without who?” I stated as I made my way back into the kitchen. I had taken a quick shower and changed into jeans and a flannel. Baggy of course. I never wore tight fitting shirts. My hair was still a little wet but I wanted to make sure the boys were taken care of before I moved on with my routine.

“You sweetheart, you are seriously too good to us.” Dean stated, staring at me. 

I blushed, “Well I would do anything to make your guys day a little better.” Sam looked at me with a knowing look, please dear lord do not let him say anything.

Sam continued reading something on his laptop without saying a word. 

“Well I’m gonna head to the library to check out this book I need, do you guys need anything?” asked Sam.

“I’m good, thank you though Sammy.” I stated.

“Unless you are stopping at the store, in that case we need pie.” Dean said while stuffing his face with more bacon.

“Of course Dean, I will make sure to get your precious pie.” Sam said while laughing.

With Sam gone, I struggled to find something to say to Dean but the silence was killing me. 

“What time did you guys end up coming home last night?” I asked. I really didn’t want to know but yet I needed to.

“Uh not too long after you, it was kinda a bust.” stated Dean.

“What happened to Blondie?” I asked without even thinking.

Dean looked up at me, “She was talking my ear off about her ex. I told her if she couldn’t stop thinking about him then she probably needed to talk it out with him.”

Good I thought to myself, I knew he deserved a good time but I am glad he struck out. I really need to stop thinking like this.

“Well I am sure you will have better luck next time” I said with a smile. It took everything in me to muster that up.

“Nah next time we need to work on finding someone for you.” Dean stated.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well I know it's been awhile since you have found a guy for you, so I figured I could help you look.” Dean said with a shrug.

Did he seriously think I wanted to find someone? I really was not the love them and leave them type. I tended to get too attached. So I just took care of things on my own. Plus it was hard to find someone to spend the night with when you are desperately in love with someone else.

“I’m really not interested Dean. I would rather just drink and make a fool of myself.” I laughed.

“Come on Y/N, I’m sure you could use a night of romance or whatever you want to call it” Dean looked at me.

Anytime I had even considered taking a guy home they would make comments about my body. Which usually ended with my fist bleeding and the guy laying on the bar floor.

“Dean, do you seriously not remember the last time I looked for a guy, he ended up calling me a fat bitch and I knocked his lights out.” I picked at my nails. I couldn’t look at his face right now.

“Yes I remember, that was just one shitty guy. I have faith we can find a good one.” Dean got up to clear his plate.

The one guy I want doesn’t want me so I really don’t want to try to find another one. I will just end up with my feelings hurt and my confidence wounded. It’s not worth it to me.

“I appreciate the offer truly, but I don’t want a night of romance. I just want to spend a night with my two best friends. That’s it. Can we please drop it?” I got up to start working on the dishes.

“If that is what you want Y/N.” Dean looked at me softly. “I will get them sweetheart, the least I can do since you cooked.” Dean started working on the dishes.

"Thanks" I said. "I'm gonna go finish fixing my hair." I made my way out of the kitchen as fast as I could. I wish he could understand how I felt, but this is one area in which Dean and I are very different.

[autisticandroids]

Yeah re: soulless Sam I was always interested and a bit troubled by the way s6 handled it where like they presented soulless sam as the primary issue/threat yet I found deans controllingness and dislike towards soulless sam equally if not more threatening. Like it felt like soulless sam was Not The Problem- dean reacting very poorly to a sam he could neither control nor understand was the issue. Would you have handled it differently than the show and if so, how?

so i think this ask is a response to this post.

yeah i mean this is something that really bugs me in the show. so first of all, the writers don't really have a handle on what it means to be soulless - they never do, throughout the whole show.

this is firstly because the concept of soullessness is cribbed wholesale from buffy, where it is ALSO stupid and makes no sense. but in spn, it's worse, because spn already has its own interpretation of buffy's vampires - you can draw a pretty one to one line between how buffy uses vampires and how spn uses demons. except that demons are one of the things that spn actually does better than buffy - instead of being inherently evil in a way that's justified by nature, demons have two things going on. first, they are soldiers in an army - they have a reason to be evil and it's that that's what they're ordered to be. second, the difference between a demon and a human is that the demon has gone through centuries or millennia of torture to turn them into a new person. which is like... a comprehensible difference. the reason that all demons love violence and constantly commit it is a result of being intentionally shaped into being that way by the other demons who tortured them, who were also tortured in their turn, on and on all the way back to lucifer. this is to me more compelling and makes more narrative sense than "vampires don't have souls and so therefore they're inherently evil (so we can have lots of cool scenes of buffy killing them and not worry about it)."

so the concept of soulless sam is basically "hey let's crib one of buffy's stupidest worldbuilding elements for a second time, but this time we won't iterate on it until it's good." bad, broadly, i would say.

man. 3.5k words. the rest goes under a cut.

secondly i would say that the individual writers have totally different ideas about what a "soulless sam" should look like. this is partly just stupidity i think - ben edlund's* idea of what soulless sam is isn't that different from brett matthews', they both write him as an unemotional pragmatist who doesn't actually have bad intent. it's just that matthews is a bad writer, and he's also taking the directive from the top that sam should be "evil," which edlund clearly isn't listening to. whereas for example dabb and lofflin are writing soulless sam as an active monster. same with gamble i would say, though that's less clear cut.

now, there are people reading this right now who think that i'm about to say "we should throw out soulless sam" but i actually don't agree with that. i LIKE elements of soulless sam. i think at his best he makes a really great foil for like... where dean is at in season six. i think that his, like, existence is a great torture for dean, partly because he's such a fabulous foil. and frankly, i also think jared padalecki seems like he's having an absolute ball playing a cheerful bastard, and it makes soulless sam absolutely magnetic to watch. oh before you read any further you should probably read this post, it's really good.

anyway i'm going to take three episodes and compare them. we're gonna look at live free or twihard, clap your hands if you believe, and caged heat.

i'm also gonna talk a little about later handlings of soullessness.

but first i'm gonna say that the concept of soulless sam as "evil sam" is dumb. if he's evil sam then... do something else to him. but the premise of soulless sam is just that he lacks emotion and lacking emotion is not like.... Becoming Evil. that's so stupid it's unreal. and it doesn't lead to an interesting idea of the character of soulless sam!!! there's nothing to do with that except Bad Guy!!!!! stupid.

anyway, between twihard, clap your hands, and caged heat, i would say twihard is absolutely my least favorite, clap your hands is my most favorite, and caged heat is somewhere in the middle, at least in terms of handlings of soulless sam specifically.

so in twihard, sam lets dean get turned by a vampire. it's not malicious, he just wants to test the vampire cure on him. this is so fucking stupid it's unreal. brett matthews is going for "unfeeling pragmatist" here but he also clearly wrote backwards from the idea of sam as the antagonist who got dean turned. it makes very little sense for sam to have done this, it's not unfeelingly pragmatic, it's silly, and it exists purely to manufacture soulless-sam-as-antagonist. dumb and bad.

vs. clap your hands, where soulless sam isn't an antagonist. he's a foil, and he makes dean very upset, but he mostly acts both reasonably and in concert with dean. he's just offputting. like, dean gets abducted, and then sam does his best to get him back, but when he can't work anymore, he cheerfully has sex with the hippie girl. that is, genuinely, offputting to the point of a little disturbing. it very successfully shows us a man who is not feeling things the way most people do. but it's not evil. it's just weird. and it's really successful as a foil to dean's "feelings are king" shtick.

vs. caged heat, which has a little bit of both. i'm mostly going to look at the first scene with meg, which has both my favorite and least favorite moment.

my favorite moment is this:

SAM laughs. DEAN: Something funny, Sam? SAM: Yeah, Meg. DEAN: Really? ’Cause where I’m sitting… SAM: Don’t worry. She can’t do jack squat. She’s totally screwed. DEAN: Sam, not helping! SAM: Look at her, Dean. She’s furious. If she could kill you, she’d’ve done it by now. She’s running. MEG: Am I? SAM: Judging by the level of flop sweat on all of you, yeah. Which means you’re running from Crowley. Which makes sense. Crowley would want to hunt down all the Lucifer loyalists now that he’s the big man on campus.

so what's happening here is that dean is being very genuinely menaced. by meg. like he's in maybe some serious danger. and sam has been trying to protect him by talking to meg. but sam is also totally calm. because he doesn't care. he doesn't want meg to rape dean, to cut him up, to kill him. but he's not scared, and he's not empathizing with dean's fear, even though he knows it exists. in fact this fact allows him to notice that meg is scared, that she can't actually cut dean up. her threats are empty. i think this is a great use of soulless sam because, again, it's offputting, and it's obviously callous. dean would be totally within his rights to be pissed about this, like sam is out of pocket here. but he's not really doing anything bad.

and now my least favorite part: literally the next two lines.

MEG: How would you know? SAM: It’s what I’d do.

STUPID. STUPID STUPID STUPID. ooooooooooooh sam is soooooooooo evil he can obviously perfectly predict crowley DUMBBBBBBB. STUPID DUMB. sorry i get so mad when i hear this line. genuinely i kind of love caged heat there's a reason it's one of my most-watched eps but this line makes me SO mad.

like this is so clearly a finger on the scale to make him seem evil. it makes zero sense and is just... making the scene unwatchable.

for better ideas about soullessness, i actually think we should look to season eleven. in season six and season fourteen with soulless sam and soulless jack, things are kind of a clusterfuck. i talked about soulless jack here in preparation for making this post, but suffice to say that the soulless jack arc was even messier than the soulless sam arc - primarily because being soulless simply did not affect jack's characterization that much. the opposite problem to sam, who got his characterization fucked so he could say "muahaha look how evil i am" occasionally.

but in season eleven none of the main characters are soulless, so there's no need for a soulless person to be an "evil version" of a main character. instead, the soulless are amara's victims. they constitute problems, but are primarily indicative of a larger problem.

this is how the episode "thin lizzie" exists. that's my favorite soulless episode, because it tries to actually take seriously what having "no emotions" would mean for its characters. so you have soullessness as tragedy and as heroic trait. because len can no longer experience joy or fear, his life is empty, but he is also fearless and has nothing to lose.

or another interesting idea of soullessness is. deep sigh. jack in the box. because jack's emptiness leads him to be unable to understand the emotions of others, and therefore to be easily tricked because he can't empathize well enough to predict that salmondean are obviously lying to him.

both of these are concepts of "emotionlessness" that don't revolve around "you become an evil genius." which is just.... it's stupid. it's dumb.

anyway all this to say that a more coherent concept of soulless sam primarily modeled on clap your hands if you believe would really improve season six. for me.

anyway that's NOT really answering your question All That was like a prologue to answering your question which was actually about the character drama. anyway the thing about dean in season six is that i really like him. he's my special guy. he's melting down like a reactor core every moment of every day.

and soulless sam is perfect for this because he's making it so much worse.

the thing about dean is that he has just had one of the worst(?) years of his life. first of all sam was dead. for a year. sam was DEAD for a YEAR. dean winchester, noted soul seller, noted enmeshment enthusiast, noted identity lacker, his sam was DEAD!!!!!!! FOR A YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!! i don't think people recognize how crazy it is that sam was dead for a year.

this is like the most important thing. but also: dean tried out being Normal. and he HATED it.

the thing about dean is that he doesn't really think normies are people. he thinks they're cardboard cutouts. sitcom characters. he thinks their life has laugh track and they stop existing when the camera stops rolling.

and dean desperately craves this. he wants it so bad. except then he tries it and. and he still exists. he still has to wake up every morning and put one foot in front of the other. still has to go to sleep and dream of alastair. every excruciating moment of "being dean winchester" still happens and he's still experiencing them. and that's the worst case scenario for dean: he doesn't want to exist. he doesn't want to experience "being dean winchester" because it's awful. being dean winchester is nothing but pain. but becoming a normie didn't actually make "being dean winchester" stop happening to him. he's still suffering. except now.... now his last comfort, the idea that maybe someday he could have a normal life and stop "being dean winchester" for good? that's gone. there's no hope. he's this or he's dead.

like, i made a joke about dean's breakdown in unity being kind of about this, dean being desperately hopeful that killing chuck will make "being dean winchester" stop happening to him. like dean's most desperate wish for his whole life has been to stop existing, in some way or another, death or identity destruction or mindlessness. and to take hope of that away, to ruin his chance to not exist anymore... well, that's going to have an impact. that's a big part of what's going on with dean in season six.

and then there's the less world-endingly tragic element that he just... doesn't like being a normie. this is imo mostly just because he set himself up to fail. lisa is a stranger, she's very nice but she's basically just an idea to him when he moves in with her. it's not clear if they even like each other. he throws himself into this concept role of the Normal White Picket Fence Guy without asking himself if he enjoys any part of it. he keeps drinking - he was on fifty drinks a week in season five and even if he cut that way down, like in half or something, that's still potentially "at least impaired most of the time" levels of alcoholism. and again, sam is dead, but also dean cut himself off from everyone else he knows. he cut off bobby, most relevantly, but also cas, and he's certainly cut off any other hunting-related contacts given that he cut off bobby. he's totally stripped himself of his support network. he doesn't even let himself drive his fucking car. and then of course there's the fact that no matter how traumatizing and horrible hunting was, there were things about it that he was used to and would likely have missed. he didn't have to work a nine-to-five. he could go wherever he wanted. he in general had a kind of freedom that most people don't, even if it was more the "me and bobby mcgee" sort than anything else. and of course: hunting is exciting. it kept him stimulated. with nothing keeping him on his toes, the horror and trauma of the last twenty eight years of his life can hit full force. all he can do is wallow in it. there's no new horror to keep him focused. and also he's just..... used to living an exciting life. i'm sure that he finds normality just, deeply understimulating. which is its own sort of horror.

and in his mind there are only two options for him: be normal, in exactly the way he tried with lisa, or be a hunter, in exactly the way he always has. so when he realizes that being normal in that way is awful.... well. he settles in. this is another way in which his year with lisa strips him of hope for the future: he can no longer imagine any life other than his current one, because the one other option he thought he had turned out to kind of suck.

and then. i've said this before. but oh my god. everyone LIED to dean about sam being back!!!!! for a YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! they lied to him for a YEAR! he grieved sam for a YEAR! and NO ONE told him. dean is surrounded by people who have betrayed him in this horrible way! everyone he loves INCLUDING SAM participated in this betrayal! wouldn't that make you crazy? wouldn't that make you insane? to live a year of life-destroying grief and then find out that that was basically orchestrated by the people you love most? no matter how good their reasons?

and then of course... of course there's the fact that sam is back. sam is back and he's... real. he exists in the world. he's not dean's sainted sammy who exists in his mind, dead and glorified. he's a real person who does things and makes choices. and that's... that's hard. this is once again fantasy bumping up against reality for dean. his relationship to sam has always been tortured but of course while grieving sam, sam exists only in his mind. and part of the problem is obviously that sam came back wrong but also, it's just that absence makes the heart grow fonder. even if sam hadn't been soulless dean just can't really cope with like. conflict in a way that doesn't make him crazy. and of course once again i must remind you that SAM LIED. SAM LIED TO DEAN ABOUT BEING ALIVE. FOR A YEAR. WHICH IS PRIMING DEAN FOR SOME FUCKING CONFLICT.

so you have all of this. and also when dean is like caaaaaaasssss come fix it for me cas is busy. and also dean's destructive anxiety over lisa and his resentment of her. and you put this all in a bottle and you shake it up. dean is NOT a happy camper. he's miserable and he just can't cope. but life keeps going on! things keep moving!

and i think soulless sam, as he is in clap your hands, is like this perfect foil for that. i wouldn't dream of getting rid of him.

but the thing is. that's all in 6x01-6x10. killer stuff, but it is absolutely wrecked by what comes after.

i fucking hate appointment in samarra. it's just not a good episode. even though tessa and death are there!! i love tessa! i love death! can't save appointment in samarra though.

like first of all. dean kills himself in it and it's not even fun. dean just kills himself. you will never be advanced thanatology. but second of all...

okay lets talk about other times dean has saved/fixed sam in some way at least somewhat against his will. i'm going to use three examples: selling his soul, the panic room, and the gadreel thing. the first two, gamble was intimately involved with writing (she wrote crossroad blues AND ahbl 1 AND when the levee breaks! come on) and the other is clearly an intentional retread of appointment in samarra.

in ahbl 2, dean sells his soul because... well because he can't cope without sam. because he has no identity outside of sam. because familial duty is the reason he's alive. because he wants to die. because a moment of loneliness is more terrifying to dean than eternity in hell.

and in season nine dean is in a similar place. obviously he's not killing himself, and he also is less like, absolutely codependent with sam because he has more people in his life now, but he still would have no idea who he is without "look out for your little brother, boy." he still can't imagine a life without sam.

with the panic room, dean is angry at sam, he's absolutely punishing him, but he's still.... there's still duty, there. "at least he dies human" is horrific, but it carries within it some twisted attempt to justify dean's decision with sam's wellbeing. and dean is punishing sam for like, betraying him. dean is deeply hurt because he LOVES sam and he wanted to slide right back into their old life together but little sammy grew up while he wasn't looking, and also REPLACED HIM with that DEMON SLUT. like dean is angry because he WANTS HIS SAMMY BACK.

whereas in appointment in samarra... it honestly mostly just reads like dean thinks soulless sam is a problem he needs to solve. it feels like he would be happy with either outcome (sam going back to normal or Just Straight Up Dying) not because he wants to save sam in any meaningful way but because he wants to get RID of soulless sam. this is the dean who feels like he needs to take a rape shower because he took orders from another man.** he's just sort of lovelessly grasping for control. which i guess you could say is a reasonable direction to take his character, he certainly felt like he was out of control in the first half of the season (hell. just twihard alone is like a massive loss of control for him and has echoing ramifications) and clawing to get it back i guess makes sense. and of course the other times he "saved" sam were also about control of COURSE they were. even ahbl a little. but it's so loveless in appointment in samarra/like a virgin. it creates a dean who is just... hard to like. not because he behaves badly but in a way that makes it just.... hard to care about him.

you could probably easily fix this by adding a theme of nostalgia for the "real sam" integrated throughout the preceding episodes. or like, there's a perfect scene that exists in my heart where immediately after dean beats sam to a bloody pulp in you can't handle the truth, he scoops him up in his arms and rushes him to the hospital because he saw gray matter on the last punch. that creates a kind of tension within dean that makes the horrible things he does to sam more charmingly tragic and less plain awful, even though they remain horrible. you can create a perfect pear wiggler for dean where he behaves monstrously and yet it's all shot through with twisted love. that's something i love to see from dean. the first half of season nine does this fabulously. but as it stands it's not there with soulless sam, and i wish it was. especially when dean is trying to fix him.

just in general broadly i think dean's characterization in the back half of season six is just. a clusterfuck. it makes sense in 6x06 that dean doesn't care about the angel war because he's having his little freakout about sam and nothing matters to him except that. but in 6x19? 6x20? what's the deal? why do sam and dean decide cas is their enemy for trying to save them? it's not like they have a plan. they certainly accepted the angel civil war mattered at the end of 6x10. they just backstab cas for no reason. broadly, the character conflict in the back half of s6 is just fucked. in the front half it makes sense because dean is having one long irrational but understandable temper tantrum due to the horrors already outlined in this post. but in the back half it's just. nothing. to have a good soulless sam arc i think you would have to just throw out the back half. get sam re-ensouled a different way. not have the godstiel arc be Like That. it just needs to go a totally different way, because s6 is a mess afer caged heat.

*although edlund isn't exactly without sin here. mr. Being Soulless Makes You Fuck Good

**and the thing is caged heat is doing something with that in the sense that caged heat is about how dean IS sexually vulnerable, you just Can't Show It On Television. meg is dean's proxy but we are meant to understand that all that Could happen to dean. dean saying he needs to take a rape shower after taking orders is underestimating his own vulnerability to sexual violence. it's notable that brett matthews only wrote two episodes and the other one was twihard. but i digress.

[shallowseeker]

You know what my favorite thing about Sam is? Even though he and Cas butt heads and don't exactly get along, Sam usually takes Cas's side. It's hilarious.

Sam would absolutely stab Cas in the back, and THEN turn around and take his side.

Kind of like [OMITTED]

8x22:

SAM: Dude, go easy on Cas, okay. He's one of the good guys. DEAN: Dude, if anybody else – I mean anybody – pulled that kind of crap, I would stab them in their neck on principle. Why should I give him a free pass? SAM: Because it's Cas.

7x01, fresh off stabbing him in the back BTW:

SAM: Dean, look, I know you think that Cas is gone -- DEAN: It's 'cause he is. SAM: He's not! He's in there somewhere, Dean. I know it. DEAN: No, you don't. SAM: No, I don't. But, look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself...

///

SAM (praying): Hey, Castiel. Um... Maybe this is pointless. Look... I don't know if any part of you even cares, but, um, I still think you're one of us, deep down. I mean, way, way, way off the reservation, but... Look, we still have till dawn to stop this. Let us help. Please.

On the one hand, it's easier for Sam not to take Cas's betrayal so personally. He saw the betrayal coming, so he wasn't made a fool of. And also, he's not in love with Cas, so that helps him keep the emotional pain at something of a distance. There's not the same kinda tension.

On the other, Sam is a rebellious-coded child who remains vulnerable to authority figures for much of his run, shown with how fanboy he was over the angels to loving having a past-in-common with John Winchester. He loves to see himself IN the father figure, and he loves to make excuses FOR the father figure. It's one of the most delicious things about Sam (and Lucifer, via his own words.

I think Sam is has a tendency to take the father's and the husband's "side," really, even in that one episode with James Marsters 7x05 Shut Up, Dr. Phil.

Which makes me think about how Lucifer is rebellious in terms of behavior, but says he actually always wanted to belong and please his dad:

LUCIFER from 13x13: No. No I always wanted to fit in, please a father I couldn’t please. And now I’m gonna be a father. Probably screw it up like he did.

AND I can't remember of find the episode, but I know Lucifer starts speaking of God different after he has a son on the way, suddenly cutting him a whole lot of slack.

I love Sam and Lucifer's twin struggles. So crunchy!