#Feels a bit odd that Sam got a son and named him Dean though like that sounds like it would be more painful than anything but oh well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dothwrites · 4 years

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spn15 spec, destiel, post 15.18, mcd?? sort of???

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And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend.--Antoine de-Saint Exupery, The Little Prince

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Castiel opens his eyes in nothingness.

It’s not dark, though the air which presses around him is thick onyx. There is neither gravity nor weightlessness here. Castiel exists but he does so in a void so barren that he doubts his own mind. He opens his mouth to call out, but no sound escapes.

Castiel exists in ignorance for one, glorious moment. Then the weight of memory crushes into him. His chest buckles underneath the pressure. He tries to scream, but the vast emptiness swallows the sound.

---

“Cas, we can fight this!”

Dean, his Righteous Man, Dean, the shining beacon, his friend...The first real friend he’d ever made. Dean is ready to fight. Dean would fight God, has indeed fought God. But he can’t fight this.

The door shudders in its frame. Blow after blow rains down on the weakening wood. Already, the wood is splintering under the assault. The thin strip of light at the bottom of the door disappears underneath a sea of writhing black. The Empty is here. It wants what it was promised.

“Dean,” he says. He intends to say much more--It’s too late, let me go, thank you--but his voice cracks on the single syllable of Dean’s name.

He wants to stay. God help him, but he wants to stay.

“No, dammit Cas! You don’t get to give up! We can fight this thing, we can keep running, we can...” Dean’s voice trails off into nothing as he looks wildly around the small room.

Though he might protest, Castiel knows that Dean is a man bailing out a sinking ship. In his heart, Dean knows the battle is already lost. But he’s still defiant, still clinging to the faintest shred of hope.

Castiel loves him for that.

“You fought for the whole world.” Castiel’s voice is weak and pale against the ear-shattering thunder of the Empty’s attempts to break into the room.

“Cas, no--”

“But you can’t fight for me.”

The words shatter something vital in him. Castiel gasps as the agony shreds through him. He thought there would be more time. He thought that happiness was an ideal that no one could ever reach. He thought there would be time, he doesn’t want to go, he wants to stay--

“Cas, I can’t...Not again, I can’t lose you again, please don’t go--”

Black seeps into the room, slender tendrils snaking across the room towards where they stand. Castiel feels every second ticking away. He’s lived for millennia, seen worlds and empires rise and fall, felt the passing of centuries like nothing more than a passing breeze. Millions of years, and now, when it means everything, he has no time.

Castiel cups Dean’s cheek with one shaking hand. If this is it, then he doesn’t want to leave with any regrets. “Dean,” he croaks. That word has become his compass, his prayer, the star to which he hitched his wagon.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave you. If I had a choice, i would stay. I would stay with you through every sunrise and sunset, through every moment, the mundane and extraordinary alike.” Castiel’s voice catches in his throat as the door finally shatters and darkness pours into the room.

“You’ve taught me everything, Dean, and I...I’m so grateful that I got to know you. Without you...”

Castiel can’t continue. He’s immeasurably grateful for all he’s experienced with Dean, but he’s always been greedy. He wants more. He wants to see Dean’s hair continue to silver until it’s soft and grey. He wants to go fishing with Dean and discover the peace inherent in the activity. He wants to watch Jack grow into his own and Sam start a family. He wants, with a fierceness that takes his breath away.

Darkness curls around his ankle and winds its way up his calf.

Dean shakes his head. Tears well in his eyes but refuse to spill over, though his lower lip shakes. “Please,” he asks, tilting his head into Castiel’s palm. “I can’t...how am I supposed to do this without you?”

Castiel starts to respond, but his voice is cut off by the swift, hard press of Dean’s lips into his. His heart jolts and gutters in his chest before it picks up again, beating so hard he thinks it might escape through the confines of his ribs.

“I love you.”

The words tumble out of Castiel’s mouth, the same as they did years ago when he was rotting from in the inside out. The same frantic need consumes him now as it did then, when every beat of his heart dragged him closer to the edge of oblivion, when seconds were more precious than gold, when he was so close to losing everything--

Dean sobs. He clutches the lapels of Castiel’s coat and kisses him, teeth bruising behind his lips.

Castiel’s whole lower body is engulfed in darkness so complete that it feels as though it’s ceased to exist. His whimper is lost in Dean’s mouth.

“No,” Dean gasps, pulling away. Castiel already knows the cause of Dean’s denial. He can feel it, creeping up his chest and shoulders, slithering down to his arms. He remembers how it was to be devoured, remembers the noxious black ooze of the Leviathan crawling through him, but this is worse, is so much worse, because now he knows what Dean’s lips taste like, now he knows everything he has to lose--

“Cas, I love you,” Dean tells him, though his words echo strangely. The Empty crawls up his throat. Castiel chokes on it, but he doesn’t dare to blink. He can’t lose a second of this, of Dean’s face, horrified and tear-stricken though it is.

Seconds tick away like centuries, Dean’s face in front of him. Castiel can’t hear what he’s saying, but he can see the words shaped on his lips.

I’ll find you, I promise, I’m coming for you, Cas, Cas, I love--

And then.

Empty.

---

With the image of Dean’s face in his mind, Castiel screams.

There is no sound in the Empty, but he screams anyway. His agony and loss pour out of him, his grief and fear. Everything that he’s lost, Dean--

Castiel screams until his voice cracks and breaks, until his throat is shredded and raw, until he tastes blood in the back of his throat.

Hollow, he slumps to the side, curling into himself. His one consolation was that he would at least be asleep for the rest of eternity. He wouldn’t have to live with the weight of everything he’d lost. Now, even that slender comfort has been ripped from him. For the rest of time, he’ll have to exist with the memory of Dean’s glassy eyes, with the sound of Dean’s choked voice echoing through his skull, with the phantom ache of Dean’s lips against his. Castiel shudders, sobs ripping out of his throat.

“Jesus. So much for helping.”

Castiel blinks. The sound of another voice is foreign in this void where nothing should exist. He rolls over, looking up at the sardonic face staring down at him.

“Ruby,” he rasps, then remembers himself.

That’s not Ruby.

“Go away,” he mutters. He wraps his arms around his legs, pressing his forehead to his knees. There’s no point in having pride here, not when time is meaningless and every second is a torture. The Empty already knows his secrets, though why it chose Ruby’s form to torment him is a mystery.

“Look feathers, you were the one who screwed the pooch on this whole ‘fixing eternity’ thing. So I think I’m going to stick around for a bit.”

“There’s no point,” Castiel says miserably. “You got what you wanted. I’m here. I’m suffering. What more could you possibly want from me?”

“Were you dropped on your halo? I told you what I wanted the last time you were here. I want out, you moron. I told you to find a way out, and you wound up here, which is kind of the opposite of what I asked.”

Castiel blinks slowly, lifting his forehead from his knees. “Ruby?” he asks.

Ruby rolls her eyes and sighs for dramatic effect. “Yeah, dumbo. You know, I’ve only been trying to tell you that since the beginning.”

“I can’t trust that.” Castiel remembers all too well the last time he was here, the jolt of pleasure at seeing Meg once more only to realize that the Empty was aping her appearance to hurt him. “The Empty, it takes on your visage, your memories--”

“Yeah, you’re just going to have to trust me on this.” Ruby’s eyes flash black. “You know, as much as you can.”

“I’d pay attention to her, Clarence. If you don’t, then she’ll probably kick your ass.”

Castiel knows that voice. He whirls around. Meg’s face greets him, a tiny smirk twisting her lips upward. “Meg,” he whispers, an odd combination of grief and happiness twisting in his chest.

“The one and only,” she assures him.

A small shred of doubt clings at the back of Castiel’s mind, but he has to trust in something right now. Even if it’s two dead demons.

“Castiel. So lovely to see you again. Though I can’t say that I agree with the company you’re keeping these days.”

Make that three dead demons.

“Crowley,” Castiel breathes.

The demon looks exactly the same as he did the day he died. His suit is pristine, down to the pocket square. He looks at Meg and Ruby with disdain before he turns that expression on Castiel. “I suppose you’re doing your biannual visit to this dump? Feel like taking any passengers out with you when you make your escape this time?”

“I’m not...I made a deal,” Castiel whispers. He made a deal to save his son and he’ll never regret that, not for a second, but then he thinks of Dean’s face. “I’m not leaving.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so negative, Cassie. You do have a way of wriggling out of the tightest of places.”

Mingled guilt and joy sear through Castiel as he turns around. Balthazar’s familiar face looks at him. Balthazar raises an eyebrow. “No hug?” he asks.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel breathes. Surrounded by ghosts from his past, he feels weak. “None of you should be awake. That’s the whole point of this place. All of us, asleep, forever.”

“That’s the way it should be, but you have a habit of wrecking the natural order.” Castiel winces at Anna’s cool voice. Though there’s no real judgement in her voice, there’s also no real warmth. “It’s been changing here, ever since your last visit.”

“I woke it up.”

“And because you woke it up, we all started to awake as well.” Hannah’s calm voice joins their small group, though it’s growing steadily larger. “All of us, demons and angels, started awaking. At first, it was just for moments, but lately, it’s been distracted. More of us have been able to stay awake for longer. Eventually we started finding each other.”

“That’s my boy,” Meg says, unmistakable fondness in her voice. “Shaking up the natural order, wrecking the whole of the afterlife.”

Castiel’s eyes dart between all of them, former enemies, allies, and friends. “Is this all of you?”

“Were you not listening? Did they not just tell you that we’ve all been waking up, at least a little bit?”

Gabriel pops into existence next to Castiel. Despite himself, Castiel jerks back in surprise.

“So, what’s it going to be, Cas? Are you going to just pop out of here like always?” Crowley brings Castiel’s brain back to the present.

When he made his deal, he made it with full awareness that there was no coming back. He accepted that burden because he knew it was the only way he could save Jack.

But that was before he felt Dean’s lips against his, before he heard the words fall from Dean’s mouth. I love you.

When he made the deal, he had never heard those words directed at him. When he made the deal, he had nothing to fight for.

Now he does.

He made a choice long ago. You don’t have to be ruled by Fate. You can choose freedom.

Castiel looks at all of them, demons and angels alike, and makes a choice.

“We’ve got work to do.”

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 3 years

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Only You: Dean x Reader (Requested)

Requested by: @littlemissmoxley: I was hoping for a Dean x Reader please? I’m fairly new to the fandom so I’ve only seen 3 seasons so far lol. I was hoping for a story where the reader feels like she is constantly compared to Cassie in Dean’s eyes even though she is a hunter too and she confides in Sam but Dean overhears the conversation and tries to convince the reader that he appreciates her for who she is and is sorry if he made her feel differently

A/N: Welcome to the family! We hope you enjoy your stay! I like comparing this fandom to the song Hotel California because like they say “you can check out any time you like but you can never leave!” lol don’t worry, that’s meant as a joke. It’s a very fun and very loving family so I hope you enjoy it!

Had to jump all the way back in season 1 for this and Dean gave me MAJOR feels throughout but totally worth it!

Also I don’t think this is my best work but I did my best

Warnings: Angst, swearing, angry!Dean (that’s a sexy warning) fluff, slight mention of sex but very light

Word Count: 2,752

Taglist requests are open!

Supernatural Masterlist| Masterlist of all Masterlists

You had been living and working with the Winchester Brothers for the past year after they called on you for a little help with a case. You knew their Dad sort of well at one point in time after he saved you from a rather sticky situation with a vengeful spirit. At the time, you were working late and had gotten off of work when the attack happened but it ended up working out where John came to your rescue and made sure you were okay until he moved on to his next case. However, before he left you, he called his sons and had them come and stay with you longer because you were injured. John Winchester was not a man who would stay behind for an extended period of time to help some civilian but what he failed to learn but Sam and Dean stuck around to learn, was you weren’t a civilian; you were a hunter too. When they got to your apartment that night, you threw them for a loop.

“So what did our Dad say attacked you?” Sam, the youngest brother you found out, asked you.

“He said some kind of mental subject high on meth or something? Some total bullshit if you ask me. I know I was attacked by a vengeful spirit,” you say nonchalantly.

Both brothers just gave you a bizarre look, like they were freaking out over how you knew what was going on. No one needed to lie to you because you were aware of what was happening and that was unusual to the brothers.

“Wait, our Dad told us you were a civilian?” The eldest brother, Dean, asked.

“Yes that’s what he told you but see boys, your Dad didn’t stick around me long enough to know the truth; I’m a hunter too. I guess it was pure luck your Dad was close by when I was attacked because I knew I was getting myself into some shady shit when I had to dig out some corpse to stop a track of killings in Tucson but I wasn’t expecting more than one spirit to be involved here,” you explain, smirking as the tension was drawn away from the brothers.

A big part of every hunter's existence was to keep the job a secret from civilians; no one usually believes you anyways. So always having to come with an excuse for what happened when civilians almost died is exhausting. Lucky for the Winchesters, they didn’t have to worry about lying with you. After staying with you for a few days to make sure nothing was still trying to come after you, it was Dean who decided to have you live with them. He insisted on it due to how severe your injuries were but it didn’t bother you; you liked his company. Not that he really took care of you, he was just concerned. It was Sam who really took the time to care for you and that was how you and he had gotten so close. In fact, you confided in Sam about everything that was going on in your life so when you started doubting your relationship a year later, you went to him.

“Hey Sam, I need your advice on something,” you asked, going to see him in the War Room. He was currently sitting at the Map table behind his laptop, looking intently at the screen in front of him.

“Hey (y/n) sure, what’s going on?” He asked, eyes leaving the screen and landing on you.

“Well it’s about my relationship,” you say and Sam grows more concerned.

“Dean’s not hurting you, is he?” He asks, jumping to one of the most extreme scenarios. You had started going out with Dean a few months after you

“No, no, of course not. He’s been nothing but a gentleman but something seems a bit off.”

You and Dean started dating a little while after you agreed to go with them on their hunts. It was actually really great and you liked him a lot, but lately, you began to question everything about your relationship.

“Off? Like how?” Sam asks, motioning for you to sit down across from him.

“Well, he uh, did something odd,” you say, a bit hesitant on sharing what happened.

“What did he do?” Sam pressed you.

“Well, uh, we were making out the other day and he said another girl's name,” you say, cheeks turning bright red but you knew you could trust Sam. He’s not the kind of guy to make fun of you or tease you that often; he was sweeter than that. Unlike his brother of course, who thrives off teasing you.

“Who’s name did he say?” Sam questioned.

“Cassie? I-I don’t know who she is or where that came from but it was weird. And when I confronted him about it, he blew me off and wouldn’t say anything about it. Not to mention, he won’t even come near me,” You explain everything that happened.

“Oh….shit,” Sam said, knowing exactly what was going on.

“Sam? Who-who’s Cassie?” You ask.

“Cassie was Dean’s, first love. He was crazy about her and we ran into her again about a year ago. She called him because her Dad was killed by some racist truck that was driven by another vengeful spirit,” Sam explained his brother’s odd behavior.

“Oh, well that explains a lot. He-he probably has been comparing me to her this whole time! And I think I’m failing,” you say, an expression of realization on your face.

“No (Y/N) that’s not…” Sam tried to call after you but you left the room and went out to the motel lobby.

“How can I help you?” The young girl behind the front desk asked you.

“Yes, I need to get a room. I’m not sure for how long yet but I can pay for one and I need one as far away from room 113 as possible,” You say, sliding the fake credit card over to the lady.

She quickly took down all your information and put it all through her computer, verifying you wanted a room farther away from Sam and Dean’s room, before she finalized a few things, sliding your card back to you and a room key, bidding you a ‘pleasant stay.’ You walked back to get your belongings from your shared room with the boys and before walking in the door, you scoped the surrounding area to ensure you wouldn’t run into either brother and when you were sure the coast was clear, you frantically start packing your bag, making sure to get in and get out as fast as possible. Zipping the bag, you scribble down a note to Dean, and set it on the table by the front door, and head out. Making your way to the opposite side of the property, you find your room, unlock it and let yourself into your new home for as long as you and the boys would be in town investigating.

Dean’s POV

“Hey (Y/N/N), Sam, where are you guys?” I called out for the others living in the room with me to see if someone could help me with these groceries and take out what I bought.

“Hey Dean, let me grab some of that for you,” Sam says, grabbing some of the bags out of my hands and placing them on one of the counters.

“Where’s (y/n)? She said she was getting hungry earlier and I got her favorite food,” I say, excited to surprise my girl.

“Um, she’s not here,” Sam says, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“Well, where is she?” I ask.

“She left,” Sam kept his response short.

“Sam, I need a much better explanation than just that.”

“There’s a note for you on the table by the door,” he says, unloading the bags of groceries.

I walk back to the door and there is, in fact, a note with my name on the top.

Dean,

I think it’s best if we part ways for a while since...well you know what happened; the incident. I talked to Sam about it and he told me who she was. I get it, Cassie was your first love and after just seeing her recently and hooking up with her again, I’d probably say her name too.

I’m not mad, in fact, I understand. I just think it’s best we aren’t in a romantic relationship since you’re not over her. Makes me wonder if you’ve been comparing me to her this entire time and I believe I fell short. I did a search on her and she is stunning in every way and I simply am not.

I’ll stay to help you and Sam with the remainder of this case but afterward, I’ll head back home. I know this may seem surprising to you but ultimately, it'll be ideal for all involved.

-(Y/N)

“Son of a bitch!” I said, crumpling up the note and throwing it at the floor.

“What’s wrong, what did the note say?” Sam asked.

“She left me, Sam. We were making out the other day and I said Cassie instead of (y/n) and now she thinks I’m still hooked up on her and that I’ve been comparing her to Cassie this entire time!” I yell, throw punching the wall.

“Well, she couldn’t have gone too far, she hates being by herself,” he says, trying to add some comfort to the situation.

“I can’t believe she thinks I still give two shits about Cassie! I haven’t even thought about her in the last year except for that one time,” I say, feeling shitty about this whole thing. I should’ve been more careful and paid better attention to (y/n). She probably thinks I don’t even care about her at all since we’ve been so busy lately with this case.

“I gotta find her Sammy,” I say, feeling helpless about everything but I at least needed to get started finding her and explaining to her where I’m coming from.

“Let’s go up to the front desk and see if she left anywhere,” Sam suggests, making me remember why I’m lucky to have him. I wouldn’t have thought of that on my own.

We head up to the desk and are met with a girl who looks like she’s just fallen in love. Guessing she finds us attractive by the way her eyes travel up and down both of us.

“How can I help you, boys?” She asks, smirking at Sam.

“We’re looking for a girl, about yay high, (y/e/c), (y/h/c) she goes by the name (y/n/n)? Have you seen her anywhere?”

“Oh, she checked into another room,” the girl says and I sigh in relief; she’s still here.

“Great, what room is she in?” I ask.

“I can’t tell you that, Sir,” she says to me, rolling her eyes and popping a bubble with her gum.

“I’m Agent Ackles, this is my partner Agent Padalecki, (y/n/n) is our partner and we need to know her whereabouts as soon as possible. We believe she might be in danger,” I say, flashing my FBI badge, Sam following my lead, and the girl quickly jumps to the computer and pulls up your information.

“She checked into room 2 earlier this afternoon,” the girl says.

“Where is room 2?” Sam asks, knowing all the rooms we’ve seen have been in the hundreds.

“On the opposite side of the property; those are the single-digit rooms.”

“Thank you,” I say, folding the badge and putting it away.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Sam asks.

“Nah, I got this. I’m hoping to work this out with her and if we do well,” I say and smirk, Sam immediately knowing what I was implying.

“Right, well thanks for that. I’m going to head back to the room then and you just call if something doesn’t go as planned,” he says and heads back to our room.

I follow the directions the receptionist girl gave me and after a surprisingly long walk, I find room 2. That girl wasn’t kidding; it really was on the opposite side of the property. I go over to the door and raise my fist to knock, pausing just a moment to gather my thoughts before finally making contact with the door.

“Just a minute!” She calls from the other side of the door and then she goes quiet for a while. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Look (y/n) I got your note, can we talk about this please?” I say, almost pleading for her to open up.

“I don’t have anything more to say to you,” she says.

“But I have plenty! Come one (y/n/n) please, let me explain.” She opens the door and looks pissed off.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you love me,” I test, knowing we haven’t said that to each other yet.

“And how do you know that?” I can tell she was affected by the comment but she kept fighting me.

“Because I know you and if you didn’t care anymore, you would’ve left.”

“Fine,” she says and steps aside, allowing me into the room.

“Look, (y/n) I’m sorry okay? I don’t know what happened that day. Maybe I was thinking about her subconsciously but I promise you, I am crazy about you and only you.”

“But you told her about our work; she obviously means a lot to you,”

“Meant a lot to me, yes, but YOU are the one who means more to me than, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but more than Baby.”

Her head snapped over to look at me, she wasn’t expecting that one and neither was I.

“I mean more to you than your prized Baby?” She asks, cocking an eyebrow to see if there were any signs of deceit but I was sincere.

“Yes, sweetheart. You are my girl and I’m crazy about you. You’re the first person I want to see when I wake up in the morning and the last one I want to see before I fall asleep at night. I want to be there when you’re not feeling well so I can cuddle you and tickle you until you feel better again. I want to cook you meals and I want to be able to binge-watch Scooby-Doo with you. I want to play with your hair and see you fall asleep with your head in my lap because you’re so incredibly beautiful and I cannot believe you are mine. I am so sorry you thought you weren’t good enough for me or that I’ve been comparing you to Cassie this whole time because I haven’t been. I’ve been pinching myself every single day I see you and get to kiss you because I’m still thinking I’m going to wake up from a dream and it’ll all be gone. I hope that isn’t true and that this is all real. After all, I can’t imagine my life without you in it because I love you. That’s right, I love you (y/n) and I don’t care who knows it! I am so in love with you that I was going to go insane if I hadn’t told you,” I fully express all my feelings, in a non-Dean way.

She keeps quiet and just when I think the worst happens, she makes her way over to me and grabs my head, bringing my lips to hers in a kiss. Instinctively, I grab her hips, holding her tight, and push her against the nearest wall. She’s completely trapped as my lips make the kiss more passionate by traveling down to her neck and over the tops of her breasts that were kind of spilling over by her pajama tank top. Just before anything gets too heated, I pull away to make sure we were on the same page, that she was okay with whatever plans I had conjured in my head and when she didn’t seem to hesitate and she lifted her shirt over her head and threw it on the floor beside her, I knew she was all in. I’ll admit, I forgot what I was doing for a minute as I pictured her lying under me as I do some rather fun things to her, but she snaps me out of it and I go out to put a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door, slamming it and locking it behind me. Yep, she was my girl again.

Taglist: @calaofnoldor @thinkinghardhardlythinking @tloveswriting @akshi8278 @baby1967impala @deansmyapplepie @marvelfansworld @spnjediavenger

#dean winchester #dean #dean girls #dean girl #supernatural #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #requested #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural family #supernatural fandom

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holylulusworld · 4 years

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Still Clingy

Summary: Your and John’s family grows.

Pairing: CEO!John Winchester x Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Mary Campbell (former Winchester), Jo Harvelle, Ofc’s John Henry Winchester & Millie Reenie Winchester

Warnings: angst, language, protective reader, pregnant reader, pregnancy sex, unprotected sex (flashback), fluff, comforting, violence

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Sequel to Clingy

Flashback, six months ago, six months pregnant, …

“Look at you, so beautiful when you have my cock in your tight little cunt,” John curses, slowly rolling his hips. Large hands run all over your swollen belly and you smile when he moans your name anytime he feels his babies kick. “I love you so much, doll.”

“I love you John,” you gasp, moving your hand behind you to cup the back of his neck. You slowly rock your hips, loving to feel John so close. He insisted on spooning you to not hurt you. “Love our babies too.”

“My sons, they are excited,” warmth fills your heart, knowing it’s odd for John’s grown sons to have a baby brother and sister soon. “Dean is already in his ‘big brother’ mode.”

You moan, feeling the coil tightening. “Sammy, he made a list for anything. He’s better at this than me.”

“John, fuck…I’m gonna,” crying out you feel your orgasm rippled through your body, wrecking your mind. “I love your dick.”

“I know you do, dirty girl…”

Flashback, three months ago, …

“Look at the little man,” John puffs his chest, proudly holding his new-born son in his arms.

Dean tries to hide he’s feelings but seeing his little brother in his father’s arms lets a single tear run down the tough man’s cheek. He smiles when you look at John holding your son. There is a warmth in your eyes he never saw in his mother’s eyes.

“Don’t you forget your daughter?” you tease, watching Sam hold your daughter. The tall man smiles softly when your daughter blinks her eyes open, silently cooing.

“Did you already choose names?” Dean steps closer to his brother, gently stroking your baby girl’s cheek. “Dad?”

“The beautiful little girl in Sammy’s arm will have a wonderful name. Y/N and I, or rather Y/N decided to name her Millie Reenie Winchester,” Dean nods, glancing at his little brother in John’s arms.

“A great name, Y/N. I love you want to honor our grandmother,” Sam nods, smiling when Dean carefully takes his little sister out of his arms. “Look at you, sweetheart. You will be as pretty as your mother one day.”

“Our son will be named John Henry Winchester,” John hums at your words, kissing his sons head softly. He feels like back then when he held Dean in his arms for the first time.

“You were that small once too, Dean. Your eyes, they looked up at me and I swear, you gave me a wink before you pooped into your diaper,” Sam snickers, watching Dean’s features soften at his father’s words. “I couldn’t even get mad as you were such a cute little shit.”

“I’m not cute,” Dean grumbles softly rocking Millie. He smiles when the little girl looks at him with wide eyes. “But you are, baby girl. Look at you.”

“Sammy, he was a huge baby,” you giggle, looking at Sam, who listens to his father’s words whilst he strokes his little brothers’ head. “I knew, the moment he opened his eyes, he’ll be a heartbreaker too.”

“Winchester aren’t heartbreakers, baby. If you walk along with them, holding their hands but not too tight, they are the best men,” John smiles, nodding silently when you hold out your hands for your son.

“I guess the little guy wants mommy to give him her breast,” John groans, glancing at your cleavage. “I meant John Henry,” scolding your husband you smirk. His face different shades of red he carefully places your son in your arms. “I will need Millie too, Dean. I know it’s hard to give her back.”

“Can I not keep her?” Dean whines, looking at his sister again. “She’s too cute. I want to eat her alive and cuddle her until she squeals.”

“Later, Dean. Now give her back to her mommy or you’ll feel a mother’s wrath, son,” Dean reluctantly gives your daughter to you, sighing deeply.

“I’m the first one getting her back. She’s my little sister and I’ll protect her,” Dean turns to leave the room to give you privacy to feed your babies. “Sammy, let’s do some research on how to keep boys away from our sister.”

“Got it, Dean. Let’s do this…”

Now, six months later, …

John yawns, slowly rocking his son in his arms. His white shirt stained with food he tries to make his son burp.

“Come on, baby boy. Let your mommy sleep. We are going to do this like men,” John doesn’t see you lean in the doorframe, watching your husband.

“John Henry, you are fed, dry, and your bed is waiting for you, baby boy. Your mommy loves you, but she needs a bit of sleep. Let daddy take care of you,” John whispers, pecking his son’s head whilst he rocks the baby.

“You look good with a baby in your arms, Johnny. I never thought I would say so, but we should have more,” you smirk, walking toward John to move your arms around his waist, leaning your head against his back. “Love you.”

“Love you too, doll. Did I tell you lately you made me a happy man when you came into my life? After Mary left me, I believed that I’ll never love again, but you showed me there a good people out there,” you sigh, holding John tighter.

“Dean and Sam, they love you too, you know. Both would kill for you,” John starts to slow dance with John Henry in his arms and you smile, following John’s lead.

“Is that a private party or can we join and dance too?” Dean smirks, leaning against the wall, glancing at his sleeping sister. “Little John is a grumpy sleeper, just like his big brother.”

“True,” John snickers, nodding at his eldest son. “An even grumpier eater, son. He loves to throw food he doesn’t like at me.”

“I wouldn’t eat that stinking broccoli either,” Sam laughs at his brother’s words, not missing the way Dean looks at his little brother. “He’s a cute little shit, though.”

“Such a sight,” Mary snarls blocking your path. You tried to walk back toward your car, your baby girl in your arms whilst your friend Jo holds John Henry in her arms. “John’s or did you seduce one of my sons?”

“Unlike you, Mary, I’m faithful. Sam and Dean are like sons to me. I may be younger than John, but this doesn’t mean I would ever cheat on him with his sons. I love my husband and he loves me,” your eyes narrow and you swear, you would beat the shit out of Mary if not for the little girl in your arms.

“You should get the fuck out of Y/N’s and my way before I beat the shit out of you,” Jo spats the words at Mary you held back. “It was you leaving John. It was you ruining your marriage and leaving his sons behind. Now get your shit together and fuck off.”

Jo leads you toward the car, yelling at Mary when she dares to follow you. “Last warning, bitch. If you don’t stop to harass Y/N, I’ll call John and his sons right now.”

Mary turns pale, stopping in her tracks she watches you carefully place your babies into the baby seat. Her features darken and she balls her hands into fists when you get into the car, driving away with your friend.

“I will get him back, no matter what…”

“Get off me,” John pushes against Mary’s shoulders, tries to get her off him but she wraps her arms around his neck, pecking his cheek, leaving red lipstick on his skin.

“Didn’t you hear my husband’s words?” you close the door, an angry look on your face. “What did you try here, bitch? Did you send me the message with John’s phone to let me witness his infidelity?”

“John wanted me, wanted to have me over his desk,” Mary shamelessly lies. John starts to sweat, his heart races fearing you will believe his devious ex-wife. “He’ll only ever love me.”

“Lying bitch,” your fist meets Mary’s face, causing her to stumble backward. “Did you honestly believe I would listen to you and not my husband? I knew the moment I got the message it wasn’t John who sent it to me. He always calls me doll and sends a naughty emoticon,” John grins, nodding silently.

“Last time it was a grinning devil as we had naughty sex whilst I talked to a business partner,” John chuckles, watching his ex-wife press a handkerchief against her nose. “My doll knows me so well.”

“Of course, I do, John. I love my naughty daddy,” you give John a wink, grinning as he rubs his growing bulge. “You know,” you walk toward Mary, licking your lips. “I asked Charlie to give me a live stream to John’s office. He installed a camera for, let’s say fun…”

“I like to fuck my wife at my office and rewatch it with her,” John blurs out and you chuckle, ramming your fist into Mary’s face once again. “She’s a dirty girl, Mary.”

“This is my final warning for you, Mary. Stay away from my husband, my babies, and my sons. John, Sam, and Dean are off-limits to you. If I ever see your lying ass close to my family again – you are dead,” John cackles, loving when you fist Mary’s hair to drag her out of his office. “He’s my man, live with it, bitch.” You kick her ass, slamming the door into her face.

“Baby, I didn’t think it’s possible but right now, I love you even more,” John smiles when you walk toward him to cup his face, kissing him softly.

“Love you too, Mr. Winchester. Now let’s check on our babies, daddy. I think your sons will steal them if we do not stop them…”

“You know, I thought about what you said the other day. You are right,” John wraps his arm around your waist, smirking, “we need more little Winchester’s in our life…”

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#Still Clingy #john winchester #AU John #au john winchester #john winchester x reader #John Winchester fanfiction #john winchester one shots #john x reader #john x you #au john x reader #sequel to clingy #pregnant reader #angst #john winchester x you #au john winchester x reader

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shadowywerewolfqueen · 4 years

Text

Rewind

For Suptober Day 12: Rewind

So, this one really got away from me but I just couldn’t help myself so have 4300 words of Destiel fluff.

“Dean, did you inventory your half of the annex like I asked you to?” Sam hollered as he walked down the stairs of the bunker, having just got back from a hunt with Eileen.

Dean, who had his feet propped up on the map table and a beer in his hand, scoffed at his brother’s question. “I’ll get to it. I thought you were going to be gone for another few days, anyways.”

Sam flashed a bitch face at his brother as he set his duffel on the table. “Dude, I’ve been gone for a week longer than expected.”

“Whatever. It’ll get it done, I promise,” Dean replied as he took a sip of his beer.

“Dammit Dean! Can’t you just do something when I ask you to do it? We agreed to split the annex in half and I’m already done with my half. There could be tons of new books and artifacts that could be really useful, but we won’t know because you won’t sort through the stuff,” Sam said angrily.

Dean slammed his bottle on the table and dropped his feet to the floor. “Alright, if it will get you to quit bitching, I’ll go start now. Geez, how Eileen puts up with you is beyond me.” Dean drank the last of his beer before walking out the war room.

“Stupid, pushy brother. Always has to be on my case,” Dean grumbled as he made his way down the maze of hallways to the annex. “Dude needs to have a romp in the sack with Eileen and then maybe he can be like Elsa and let it go.”

Dean flicked the light switch on and groaned. Half of the annex was completely reorganized and not a single thing was out of place. The other half was disorderly with boxes thrown around haphazardly and sheets covering most of the stuff. “Son of a bitch,” he growled as he walked over to the nearest box and opened it. A mouse scurried out and ran across the toe of Dean’s boot before disappearing under a shelf.

He spent the next five hours cleaning and had barely seemed to make a dent. He went to the kitchen to grab a beer, happy that he didn’t run into his brother. He did run into somebody else, though.

Dean was walking into the kitchen and looking at his phone, so he never saw the trench coat clad angel walking through the entryway. As he collided with Cas, his phone fell to the floor and Dean would have fallen on his ass had Cas not grabbed him by the arm.

“Dean, are you ok?” Cas asked, his hand still wrapped tightly around the hunter’s bicep.

“Yeah Cas, I’m good. Thanks for catching me,” Dean said with a light blush.

Cas finally dropped his hand and picked up Dean’s phone off the floor. He handed it back and said, “You’re welcome. So, what are you and Sam up to?”

Dean pocketed his phone and went to the fridge to grab a beer. “I don’t even know where Sam is at the moment. Probably taking one of his six hour bubble baths. I’m organizing my half of the annex so Sammy will quit bitching at me to do it. What are you doing here, I thought you were taking care of some important angel business?”

“Um, it’s all done,” Cas said quickly. “I figured I would come check on you and your brother since I’ve been gone for so long.” Cas glanced at Dean before immediately looking away.

Dean didn’t say anything about the angel acting kind of strange. He was used to Cas being a little odd. “We’re good actually. Just a few monster of the week cases but nothing major for once.”

Cas nodded once. “That’s good. Um, would you like any help with your organizing?”

Dean’s eyes went wide before he stammered, “Uh, n-no. I’m, I’m good. I promised Sam I’d do it on my own anyways. He did his side on his own, so it’s only fair for me to do it… on my own, you know?” Dean wanted to smack himself for how stupid he sounded.

The angel’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Ok. I’ll just go to my room then. If you change your mind, let me know.” Cas left without another word.

Dean watched him go before scrubbing a hand down his face and muttering, “Fuck.”

The crush he had carried for Cas had long since turned into full blown romantic love. Dean had no idea how to handle such a concept. He was not a guy who met someone, fell in love, and settled down. He was a hunter who loved them and left them after a night or two. With Cas, he could never imagine sleeping with the angel once and then leaving him. Dean wanted the apple pie life, but he knew he could never have that. He was a hunter and not to mention a pretty lousy human. Why would an Angel of the Lord ever consider Dean for a partner?

As Dean fell deeper in love with Cas, the more flustered he got being around the angel. He could hardly be in Cas’ presence for more than a few minutes before he started imagining what Cas’ lips would feel like or what his hands running along Dean’s skin would feel like. Having normal conversations with Cas was becoming impossible and now he just sounded like a love-sick idiot every time he was around the man. Dean knew if he had accepted Cas’ offer to help organize, he wouldn’t have organized anything because he would spend the whole time staring at the angel.

Dean sighed as he walked back to the annex. He started going through boxes again, putting things in two separate piles. A pile for stuff to be kept and a pile for broken junk that needed to get thrown away. Dean was grabbing another box off the shelf when he stepped on something and lost his footing. He crashed to the ground and the box went flying. “Son of a bitch,” he cried.

He rolled his shoulders before getting to his knees and picking up the stuff that now littered the floor. He had an armful of junk and dumped it back in the box. He looked around and grabbed a small wooden brown case that he had missed. He looked at the case and could barely make out some writing under the layer of dust. He rubbed his finger across the top and read the writing.

“Rewind Buzzer. What the heck can it rewind?” Dean asked as he opened the box.

The inside of the case was lined with red velvet and a piece of paper was lying on top of whatever was in the box. Dean picked the paper up and read the sentence written on it. His eyes got big at what he read. He dropped the paper to the ground and stared at the buzzer nestled in the case.

The buzzer was a device that could rewind time. Dean grinned at the idea of what he could do with that ability. The amount of pranks he could pull on Sam were infinite. He picked the paper back up and turned it over, searching for how far back in time the buzzer went.

Dean looked up when he heard his name called. Cas walked into the annex, wearing a pair of sweats and one of Dean’s old band tees. It was a rarity to see him in anything but his suit and trench coat and Dean couldn’t help but stare. Cas was always handsome but looking at him now, Dean thought he was drop dead gorgeous.

“Dean, are you ok? You’re staring at me more than usual,” Cas said, a small smile on his face.

“Uh, yeah, Cas, I’m good,” Dean replied, his cheeks turning a bright red. “Just not used to seeing you without your suit and trench coat.” He sat the case on the shelf and moved to stand in front of the angel.

Cas picked at the hem of his shirt. “I can go change if you want. You’ve told me for years the bunker is my home and one is supposed to be comfortable in their home, correct?”

Dean’s face softened as he reached out and laid his hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Yeah, buddy you are. Please don’t go change on my account. You have every right to be comfortable here. This is your home.”

“Thanks Dean,” Cas said as he hesitantly pulled the hunter in for a hug.

“You’re welcome angel,” Dean replied as he wrapped his arms around Cas’ shoulders. He savored being wrapped in the angel’s tight embrace, knowing it would only last for a few seconds. He couldn’t help but take in a deep breath of Cas’ rich earthy scent before the man pulled away. Dean barely managed to not whimper at losing the feeling of warmth the angel offered.

Cas looked over Dean’s shoulder and his gaze landed on the box Dean had been holding. He walked over to investigate. He picked the box up and studied the buzzer before looking at Dean. “This is a very powerful object and is imbued with archangel grace.”

“What?” Dean asked with surprise, moving to stand next to Cas. “So, do you know how it works then?”

Cas nodded. “I do, it was once carefully guarded by Heaven because of how powerful it is. It has the ability to rewind time even if it can only go back five minutes.”

“Five minutes doesn’t seem like such a big deal,” Dean scoffed. It wouldn’t be very useful in pulling pranks on his little brother, that was for sure.

“No, it doesn’t but five minutes can make a huge difference in something such as a battle. This was created to help angels gain an upper hand over demons in the war we had with them,” Cas explained. “The next time I go to Heaven, I will take this with me. We can’t afford for it to fall into the wrong hands.”

Dean, who had been lost in thought about what he could do if he could rewind time, looked up at Cas. “What? Why? The bunker is perfectly safe! No demon can get in here with all the warding.”

Cas titled his head. “I don’t know Dean. Heaven is even safer than this when it comes to demons. Why do you care where it goes anyways?”

“Uh, I do-don’t,” Dean stammered. “You know what, never mind. I’ll just put it on the shelf so you know where it is when you go back to Heaven.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you Dean. Now, are you sure you don’t want help with cleaning this up?”

Dean quickly replied, “Yeah, I’m sure! Like I said earlier, if Sam can do his half on his own, it’s only fair I do my half on my own. Why don’t you go relax in the Dean Cave. Watch some Netflix and Chill.”

Cas looked at Dean with curiosity but only said, “Okay Dean. If you want to join me, you’re welcome to.”

“Yeah, maybe in a little bit. I should get some more organizing done,” Dean replied.

“Alright, see you later,” Cas said lowly before turning around and walking out the room.

As soon as he was gone, Dean grabbed the case off the shelf. While talking to Cas, he had come up with an idea. Even though he didn’t have much hope that Cas might actually like him, he finally had the guts to try. With the buzzer, he could tell Cas how he felt and then if the angel didn’t return the sentiment, Dean would just rewind time and deal with his broken heart by getting lost at the bottom of a bottle. He slipped the buzzer in his pocket before heading to the Dean Cave.

He walked in the room to see Cas sitting on the couch, Orange is the New Black playing on the TV. “Hey Cas,” Dean said softly.

Cas paused the show before looking over his shoulder at Dean. He smiled as he said, “Hello Dean. Change your mind?”

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck as he answered, “Uh, well there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Ok, what is it?”

“Ok, well, the thing is, I, uh, wanted to tell you about how I feel. About you that is,” Dean added.

Cas stood up and walked towards Dean. “What exactly do you want to tell me?”

“So, the thing is, you know you mean a lot to me… and to Sam. We both, you know, care about you,” Dean said awkwardly.

“I know. You said you both think of me as a brother,” Cas said, his lips curved up at the corners.

“Exactly, well… not exactly. You see Cas, I don’t really think of you as a brother,” Dean replied, he cheeks turning red.

Cas snapped his head back. “Oh.” His shoulders slumped and his eyes became glued to the floor. “I just forgot there’s something I need to do. Excuse me.” Cas pushed past Dean, hurrying towards the exit.

Dean turned around and grabbed Cas’ wrist. “Cas, wait!”

“You know, you could have told me the truth instead of lying to me for so long,” Cas cried as he ripped his wrist out of Dean’s grasp.

He fled down the hallway before Dean could say anything else. “Son of a bitch,” Dean shouted in frustration. “That was not how it was supposed to go.” Dean pulled the buzzer out of his pocket. “Alright, I really hope this damn thing works.”

He pressed the buzzer down and felt as if his stomach was being twisted from the inside out. He slammed his eyes shut and focused on trying not to puke. Once his stomach settled, he opened his eyes to find himself standing back in the annex. He blinked before looking at the buzzer. “Huh, guess it does work. Now, to try this again.”

Dean hurried to the Dean Cave. “Hey Cas, can I talk to you?”

Cas paused his show and looked over his shoulder. “Hello Dean, of course you can. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to tell you how I feel… about you, that is,” Dean added, the tips of his ears warming up.

Cas stood to his feet and walked over to Dean. “About me? I don’t understand.”

Dean took a deep breath before saying, “Ok, so you know how I told you that you’re like a brother to me and Sam. Well, the truth is… I uh, well I, um, dammit.” Dean cursed himself for getting tongue tied. Why was it so hard to just tell Cas how he felt?

Cas squinted his eyes. “Dean, you’re not making any sense.”

“I know, I’m not. I’m trying to tell you how I don’t think of you as a brother,” Dean cried.

Just like last time, Cas became extremely upset and stormed out of the room.

“Dammit! No more talking about Cas as a brother,” Dean growled before pressing the button again.

Once he had gotten over the jarring feeling of travelling back in time, Dean headed to Cas for a third time. “Cas, I need to talk to you,” he said, harsher than he intended, but he was getting frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard to tell the angel that Dean was in love with him.

Cas paused the show and said, “Ok, about what?”

Dean stood in front of the TV looking at Cas. “So, there’s something I’ve been hiding for a while and I decided it’s time that I tell you.”

Cas stood to his feet. “Ok, what is it?”

“The truth is, you’re important to me Cas, like really important,” Dean said in a rush.

Cas smiled. “Dean, I already know that. You’re important to me as well. You and Sam.”

Dean frowned. “I’m not talking about Sam right now, I’m talking about you and how I feel about you.”

“I already know how you feel about me Dean,” Cas said as he settled a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“You do?” Dean asked excitedly.

Cas nodded. “Of course, you told me how you and Sam consider me a brother. I know how high of an honor that is.”

“Ugh, why the hell does the whole thing about you being a brother keep coming up? That’s not how I feel about you anymore,” Dean hollered. For the third time in a row, he watched Cas walk out the room.

“Son of a bitch!”

Dean pressed the buzzer and then hurried towards the Dean Cave. “Cas I need to talk to you and it has nothing to do with you being like a brother to me and Sam.”

Cas paused the TV and looked at Dean with a head tilt. “Ok, that is random but oddly specific.”

“Whatever, I need to tell you something and I need you to listen,” Dean said, ignoring Cas’ comment.

“Well, I’m not stopping you.”

“So, here goes, the truth is Cas, I really really care about you a lot! Like a lot, a lot,” Dean said hurriedly.

Cas chuckled. “Dean, I care about you a lot as well. It’s not like I didn’t already know that. Did you just want to get out of cleaning the annex?”

“What? No! Cas, are you listening to me? I just said I like you a lot!” Dean was staring at the angel, pleading with his eyes for Cas to understand what he meant.

Cas just smiled and patted Dean on the shoulder. “I like you a lot too, Dean, which is a good thing since we spend so much time together. I’m gonna grab a beer, would you like one?”

Dean watched helplessly as Cas walked out the room. “You’ve got to be kidding me! How could he not get what I was saying? Am I going to have to spell it out for him?” Dean groaned and pressed the buzzer again.

At this point, he didn’t even notice the twisting in his stomach from the buzzer. This time his stomach was twisting from something else. He didn’t say “I love you” very often and apparently he was going to have to say it for Cas to understand what Dean was trying to tell him. Things just got a whole lot harder. He trudged to the Dean Cave, trying to build up his courage.

“Cas, can I talk to you?” Dean asked as he walked into the room.

“Of course,” Cas said as he paused the TV.

Dean huffed, “Alright, I’m just going to say it! Cas, I love yo- yo-yogurt.”

Cas snorted. “Oook. Thank you for telling me although I never would have thought you would like yogurt. That seems more like something Sam would like.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! How do I keep screwing this up?” Dean shouted. He didn’t even wait for Cas to walk out the room before pulling the buzzer out and pressing the button.

Dean tried again and this time told Cas he loved yodeling. “Who the fuck even likes yodeling?” Dean screamed after pressing the buzzer again.

He tried again and screwed up, this time tripping over his feet and breaking his wrist as he ran into the Dean Cave. Another try, another failure after he got so tongue tied that he just walked out the room, his head hanging in shame. Three more rewinds, three more failed attempts at telling Cas the truth. Once Dean rewound time again, he sunk to the floor and dropped his head in his hands.

He sat there, feeling hopeless. He could slice a vamp’s head off their shoulders or put a silver bullet straight through a werewolf’s head but he couldn’t tell a dorky angel how he felt about him. “I’ve saved the fucking world multiple times, but whenever I try to tell Cas I love him, I screw up. Maybe, I’m just not meant to be with Cas and this is some crazy sign.”

“Dean?”

The hunter looked up at the soft whisper of his voice. His face paled when he saw Cas standing in the doorway. He scrambled to his feet, refusing to look at the angel. He didn’t look up until Cas reached out and gently forced his chin up. Green locked with blue.

“Did you mean that? What you just said,” Cas asked, fear evident in his voice.

Dean wanted to disagree, wanted to deny the words, but he had been trying to tell the truth to the angel for the past hour. He had just hoped it would be in a different way. “Yeah, Cas, it’s true,” Dean said with a sigh.

Cas’ thumb rubbed against Dean’s cheek. “Why do you sound so upset about that?”

Dean pulled away from Cas and took the buzzer out of his pocket. “I’ve been trying to tell you the truth for the past half hour and couldn’t manage to say it to your face!”

“Dean, you’ve been in the annex for the past hour. I know you said you didn’t want my help, but I couldn’t let you do this all on your own,” Cas said.

Dean shook his head. “No, I’ve been using the rewind buzzer to keep going back in time, but I kept screwing up every time I tried to tell you the truth.”

“How many times have you used the buzzer?”

Dean thought about it before embarrassingly admitting, “Eleven times.”

“And you’ve rewound back to this time every time and not let the new timeline play out?”

“Well, yeah because I kept screwing up,” Dean said angrily.

“Dean, because you kept coming back here, the time loop reset itself. The only way it wouldn’t have is if you had gone back in time and let the new future play out, then I wouldn’t have been sitting on the couch watching Netflix for the past hour,” Cas explained.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, “Not like it really matters. Eleven times trying to tell you how I feel about you and eleven times I fucked up.”

Cas stepped closer and reached out and entwined his fingers with Dean’s. “Twelfth time’s a charm.”

“I didn’t want you to find out that way though. I wanted to tell you to your face but I kept getting so nervous because I really didn’t think you would feel the same way,” Dean admitted, as he dropped his eyes, not looking at Cas.

“Dean, how could you possibly think I don’t feel the same way? Have you never noticed the way I look at you or the unbelievable amount of times I’ve told you we shared a more profound bond? I always take care of you first before healing Sam and I’ve never turned up a chance to work a case with you or join you at a diner for burgers and pie. Dean, I’ve loved you for years but I didn’t think you did,” Cas declared.

Dean looked up in awe. “You really mean all of that?”

“Mhm, every word of it.”

“But why, I’m just a human and a lousy one at that,” Dean said, self-deprecating as always.

“You are no such thing! You are the strongest, bravest man I know and there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for your family! You think so little of yourself because you’ve always made sure everybody else was taken care of. Well, now it’s my turn to take care of you. Please, let me,” Cas begged.

Dean looked into the eyes of the angel he loved. “I’m not strong enough to say no.”

“That’s ok, this one time you can be weak,” Cas whispered before pulling Dean into a kiss. Dean slid his hands into Cas' hair while the angel wrapped one hand around Dean’s waist and the other around the back of his neck.

Cas slid his lips against Dean’s lightly, just savoring the feel of the hunter’s lips against his. Dean, it seemed, wasn’t wanting gentle. Dean pressed his lips harder against Cas’ before slipping his tongue out and licking along the seam of Cas’ mouth. Cas opened immediately and Dean slid his tongue inside of the angel’s mouth. Their tongues met in the middle and slid against each other before moving to explore one another’s mouth. Cas angled his head, allowing him to seal his mouth even more tightly over Dean’s as their tongues continued to dance together.

Dean finally had to pull away, the need for air too great. He smirked when he saw that Cas was just as affected by the kiss. His hair was sticking up at all angles and his lips were swollen and red. Dean figured he didn’t look much better.

Cas looked affectionately at Dean. “Does that prove how I feel about you?”

Dean’s lips turned up at the corners. “Yeah Cas it does. I love you too.” He rubbed his nose against Cas before pressing another chaste kiss to the angel’s lips as his arms slid around Cas’ waist. He let his cheek rest on Cas’ shoulder, enjoying the warmth of being wrapped in the angel’s arms.

Cas smiled down at the hunter, reaching a hand up to run his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I love you so much Dean,” he whispered. He had been wrong, the bunker wasn’t home. This was home, being wrapped around the hunter he had loved for years.

“You know, you were right. That buzzer belongs in Heaven,” Dean whispered.

“No more rewinding time for you,” Cas said with a laugh.

Dean pressed his body even closer to Cas’. “Don’t need to rewind time anymore, I got what I want right here.” The annex didn’t get organized as they spent the rest of the day wrapped up in each other.

#suptober20 #My writing #my OTP #Destiel

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rizlowwritessortof · 3 years

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The Fine Line

An unexpected tragedy sends Devon down the dark path of hate and vengeance, but she will learn that things are not always what they seem…

Scott Nolan swept a lock of his greying hair from his forehead and opened the back of the Suburban, smiling as his daughter walked around to join him. “Well, Devvy-what do you think of my luxury cabin?”

Devon smiled, hiding her eye roll at her father’s nickname for her and shaking her head, her chestnut ponytail bobbing. "Dad-I’m not sure luxury is quite the word.“ She grabbed a box of provisions from the back of the vehicle and waited for her father as he threw the strap of his rifle, then his duffle bag, over one shoulder and searched his pocket for the key to the front door.

"Okay, maybe we should go with rustic, then,” he joked as he swung the door open. Devon walked in, glancing around the large room, and depositing the box on the heavy wooden table. It looked as though someone had just cobbled it together with rough-hewn lumber, but it had been well-used and the top surface, at least, was smooth. She turned to look the room over further, noting the stone fireplace, complete with a deer head mounted over the mantle; an ugly brown and orange plaid sofa, that looked incredibly comfortable; and a recliner, thanks, no doubt, to her dad. "There are two bedrooms, so take whichever one you want, Devvy,“ her dad said, coming in with another load from the Suburban. "I brought a grill up last time I was here, but the stove works too. And there’s a little lake not too far from here, if you want to swim or fish a little.” He moved to stand in front of his daughter, putting his hands on her shoulders. "So, what do you think?“

"It’s nice, Dad, really. I like rustic.” She smiled at him. "But why did it take you so long to bring me up here? I haven’t seen you for, what-three years?“ Her father dropped his eyes, guilt flitting across his face.

"I know. I’m sorry.” He turned and began to unpack the groceries. "I’ve kind of been on the road for a while. Do you remember me talking about my friend, John Winchester?“

"The name sounds familiar. But you’ve never really talked about your friends to me very much, Dad.” Scott stopped what he was doing, hanging his head a little, and Devon felt a twinge of guilt herself. "I’m sorry, Dad. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I’m really not.“ She walked up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder and reaching up to kiss his cheek. "So, what about John Winchester?”

“Well, for a while I was on the road quite a bit with John and his son, Dean. We worked a few odd jobs together, security stuff, you know, like I’ve always done.” Scott stopped again, disliking the taste of the half-truths on his tongue, then let out a sigh. "But I kind of lost track of them, went on working on my own. Then a few months ago, John’s other son, Sam, called to let me know that John died. Complications from a bad car accident. All three of them were almost killed when their car got broadsided by a semi.“

"Dad, I’m sorry.”

Scott turned to look at his daughter. "It just made me realize, we never know what could happen, you know? And it kind of woke me up, made me think about the fact that I had let all this time go by, and that I missed you. That I don’t want to lose touch with you again.“

Devon slipped her arms around her father and he held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I love you, Dad. I’m sorry about John.”

“I love you too, Devvy. And I’m sorry for going so long without seeing you. Sometimes I think you’re just better off without me complicating your life. You have a good job, your life seems to be on track, and I’ve always just kind of drifted in and out-I just wasn’t sure since you became an adult if you really wanted much to do with me.”

“Don’t be silly. If I didn’t want anything to do with you, why would I be here in this luxurious resort spending time with you?” She smiled up at him, kissing his cheek again, and began helping put away their provisions. "So-grill tonight? Or should I make some pasta?“

"Dean, are you okay?”

An impatient sigh from the driver’s seat told Sam his state of mind, even before he spoke. "Look, Sammy, you need to stop asking me if I’m okay. I’m as okay as I’m gonna get for now, okay?“ Ever since he had opened up to his little brother about his fears that their dad had made a deal to save his life, Sam had been in one of his ‘mothering’ modes.

"Sorry. I’m just…”

“Worried about me, yeah, I get it. But let it go, Sam. I’m fine.” Dean’s voice closed the door on that subject, and Sam looked out the passenger window at the passing scenery, if it could be called that. Nebraska didn’t have much exciting to offer in that regard, at least not driving along Highway 20.

“So why are we going to the Roadhouse?” Sam asked quietly, knowing his brother was already irritated.

“I just thought we’d check with Ash, see if he has anything for us. Aren’t you curious?” Dean glanced over at Sam, then back at the mind-numbing sameness of the road.

“Yeah, I guess-I just figured he’d call if he had anything. I just thought maybe you wanted to see Jo again.” Sam smiled a little as he spoke, waiting for Dean’s reaction.

“Shut up, Sam. Ellen would have me stuffed and mounted if I touched her precious daughter.” Not that he wouldn’t love to-after all, she was pretty and female, and that was really all it took most days. But getting mixed up with Jo would cause no end of complications, and he definitely did not need more complications in his life.

“That’s true,” Sam agreed, and unscrewed the lid on his soda, draining the bottle and tossing it into the back seat, ignoring the sidelong glare his older sibling bestowed on him. If he was irritated at Sam, at least his mind wouldn’t be dwelling on the guilt he felt over their father’s death, and Sam was okay with that.

They stopped at a tiny town a couple of hours from their destination to fill the Impala, and Sam went inside to pay for the gas and pick up a few snacks and drinks for the rest of the trip. Dean was just pocketing his cell phone as he got back into the car.

“Change of plans, Sammy,” he said, pulling away from the pump and pulling out onto the two-lane highway. "Instead of heading south at Valentine, we’re going north.“

"What’s up?”

“Scott just called. He’s up at his cabin north of Pierre, South Dakota, and he thinks there might be a werewolf problem.”

“Scott Nolan?” Dean nodded in reply as he opened the soda his brother handed him, taking a couple of swallows and heading down the road to their new destination.

Devon shook her head as she watched her father staring out the window into the trees. "Dad-why don’t you relax? What’s the problem? You’ve been on edge ever since you went into town this morning.“

Scott turned to look at his daughter. "Sorry, Devvy-it’s just that some of the locals were talking about an animal attack last night. I’m just a little worried about having you out here. I don’t think you should go out in the woods until they figure this thing out, okay?”

“Animal attack?”

“Yeah, something tore a farmer’s throat out not far from here. They think it might be a wolf.”

Devon looked up from her perch on the couch. Her dad looked really worried. “Okay, Dad, if it makes you feel better, I’ll stay inside.” He gave her a rather tight smile and nodded.

“Thanks, honey-I’d rather not have to worry about you out there. I promised the sheriff that I’d help patrol tonight, but you should be okay as long as you stay put.”

“Why are you helping patrol? I don’t want you out there with that thing, Dad!”

“Devvy-I do security work all the time, and I go hunting. They need someone who has experience with firearms, and I fit the bill. They only have so many deputies and rangers around here.”

“What makes it okay that I have to worry about you, but you don’t want to worry about me?”

“I’m your father, that’s what,” Scott answered, trying to sound as if he was joking, but there was an underlying note of steel in his voice that Devon recognized from her childhood.

“So much for my being an adult,” she muttered under her breath, and looked up innocently when her father shot a questioning look her way.

“What?”

“Nothing, Dad. What do you want for supper?”

She fixed a simple meal for the two of them and reluctantly sent her father off to help the local authorities, resigned to spending the evening reading or watching a DVD by herself. She kept herself occupied for the majority of the night, but after dark she began to worry. She tried his cell phone, but reception was spotty in the area, so she didn’t hold out much hope that he would pick up.

She went to the kitchen area to make herself a cup of tea, deciding that she would give him until 10:30 to check in or she would call the sheriff’s office. There really wasn’t much else she could do, but she had an uneasy feeling, and until she spoke to her father she wouldn’t be able to shake it. The appointed time came and went, but she held off on making the phone call, knowing it would irritate her dad if she called the sheriff about him. But when 11 o'clock rolled around and she still hadn’t heard from him, she cursed under her breath and grabbed her phone, dialing directory assistance to get the number.

“Sully County Sheriff’s Department,” a terse female voice answered.

“Yes, my name is Devon Nolan. I’m calling about my father, Scott-he was assisting your department tonight, helping patrol after the animal attack last night. I haven’t heard from him since he left at around 6 p.m. tonight.”

“Scott-what was the last name?”

“Nolan. Scott Nolan.”

“Hold on.” Devon waited impatiently, wandering around the cabin aimlessly while she was on hold. "Miss Nolan?“ The woman’s voice startled her, and she jumped, then shook her head at herself for her nervousness. "I’m sorry, but we have no record of a Scott Nolan doing any work for us. I spoke to the sheriff myself. Are you sure he was talking about Sully County?”

“You had the possible wolf attack last night, correct?”

“Yes, but that wasn’t public knowledge. How did you hear about it?”

“My father told me this afternoon.”

“Well, miss, I don’t know where he got the information, but we aren’t releasing any information on that case as of yet. And the sheriff’s department doesn’t normally recruit civilian assistance. Would you like to file a missing person report? We wouldn’t be able to do anything until he’s been gone for 24 hours, but we could get the paperwork started if you think there’s a real problem.”

“No, thank you. I’ll check back with you if he doesn’t show up.” She ended the call, her brows drawn together in a frown. Why would he tell her he was assisting the sheriff? He was out there trying to hunt that wolf by himself, that was the only explanation. And if he made it back to the cabin in one piece, she was going to tear him a new one.

By 11:30, Devon was beside herself. She called her dad’s phone every five minutes, hoping against hope that he would wander into an area that had cell reception. Frustrated and scared, she went to the fridge and grabbed a cold beer, removing the lid and throwing it at the far wall. She downed almost half the bottle at once, then plopped down at the table, setting the bottle down and reaching for her phone once again. But before she could dial, she heard a heavy step on the front porch and shoved the phone into her pocket. As she stood, apprehensive, to head for the front door, her father burst into the room, slamming the door behind him.

Startled, she jumped, knocking over her beer in her surprise. "Dad! Are you all right?“ As she drew closer, her eyes widened in shock. His right arm hung useless at his side, mangled and bloody. He grabbed her arm with his good hand, gripping her so tightly it hurt. "Dad! You’re hurting me!” She tried to pull away from him, but he was dragging her towards the storage closet.

“Devvy! Listen to me. Get in the closet. Don’t make a sound. Do you hear me?”

“Dad!”

“Devon!” Her father roared loudly enough to make her shrink back from him, as far as she was able with the grasp he had on her arm. "Just do what I tell you! Your life depends on it!“

Frightened like she had never been before, she nodded, tears in her eyes. "Okay, Dad.” She stepped into the closet, and she heard him lock the door. “Dad!”

“Devvy, you have to be quiet, do you understand me? Don’t make a sound, I don’t care what you hear, I mean it.” She heard him moving around outside her small prison, but couldn’t make out what he was doing. She brushed a tear from her face with the back of her shaking hand, backing up a step and standing against the rear wall of the tiny room. And then she heard a loud crash, and a savage growl that sent a shiver of pure terror up her spine. A shot, the sound magnified by the confines of the cabin, rang out and then there was silence for a few seconds. She heard more footsteps, and a man’s voice that she had never heard before. "Scott! Damn it! What the hell were you doing?“

"Dean, please…” her father’s voice wavered-it almost sounded like he was crying.

“Dean,” another unfamiliar voice spoke, and the first man answered gruffly.

“Sammy-we have no choice.”

Devon heard her father speak once more. This time, she knew he was crying, and she cowered in the closet, tears streaming down her face as she listened. “Dean, please. I’m begging you, son. Please…”

She heard the gunshot ring out, echoing loudly in the cabin, and her father spoke no more. She slid slowly down the wall of the closet until she was sitting huddled on the floor, her hand clasped over her mouth, terrified of making a sound. But what she really wanted to do was break down the heavy door that kept her captive and kill the man who had just shot her father-Dean Winchester.

Remaining chapters on AO3 beginning HERE

#the fine line #dean fic #dean x devon #dean x oc #reblog to fix tag link for remaining chapters

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: Black Dog - part one (prologue) Word count: ±1050 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part one summary: A hike up Whitehorse Mountain isn’t the toughest challenge the Cleveland family has ever faced, until the snow is tainted by blood. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: A brand new episode of Supernatural: The Sullivan Series starts here! Beta’d by @winchest09 & @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

Whitehorse Mountain, Washington November 21st, 2005 - One week ago

”C’mon, David!” Three hikers find their way through the forest on the slopes of Whitehorse Mountain, deep in the wilderness of the Cascade Range. Evergreens rise up high above them, reaching for the clouds. A girl, probably about sixteen years old, walks up front, closely followed by her father. A bit further behind, her older brother halts as he looks over his shoulder. Behind him, in the valley where there is no snow, Darrington lies, protected by the mountains surrounding the small town. The shadows of the ridges they are climbing lay out a blanket of darkness. Across from the valley, the top of North Mountain is covered in white. It’s an amazing sight.

“Hey, Slo-mo! Hurry it up! We wanna get over the Lone Tree Pass before dark,” his young and enthusiastic sister calls out. “How much sugar did you have, Ruth?” her brother teases, after which he follows. “We’ll set up camp below the ridge and continue east first thing in the morning. In about a half a mile, the real fun is gonna start,” their Dad informs, looking at a detailed map while walking. “I can’t wait to see the view from the summit!” Ruth cheers, eager to reach their goal.

Jim observes his daughter and smiles. The three of them share a passion for hiking and they go out to tame mountains whenever his work allows it. It became an outlet, especially after his wife passed away two years ago. It was a shock to all of them, but they got through it, as a family. It’s during moments like these that he realizes how lucky he is, still being able to spend time with his daughter and son. “Slo-mo!” Ruth mocks, glancing at her brother over her shoulder. “Would you stop calling me that?” David laughs. “It’s the truth. But I’ll tell you what. I won’t call you names anymore if you make it to camp first,” she dares him. Ruth turns around and walks further backwards, challenging David. He grins and starts running up the mountain. “You’re on!”

He passes his father, who shakes his head with a grin on his face. Siblings; it doesn’t matter what age those two are, they will always compete with each other. “Don’t go too far,” he warns like any parent would. “You’ll never catch me!” Ruth shouts at her brother. “Watch me!” David returns.

He bolts after her, struggling to get through the thick layer of snow. He can hear his little sister laugh in the distance. Sometimes she appears between the tall trees in the black and white surreal world, and then he loses sight of her again. He catches up on her, but just as he’s about to pass his sister, they reach the rocky pass of Lone Tree. Unstoppable, Ruth starts her climb as she slams her axe in the solid ground, conquering the steep trail without a safety line. Trained and skilled, she overcomes the pass, tailed by her brother.

“Slo-mo!” she calls him, heaving her fist into the air victoriously. “Yeah, yeah. You win.” David shakes his head as he drops his backpack down in the snow.

Out of breath, David takes a moment to enjoy the view. Ruth, who has been running all this time and was too busy beating her brother, looks aside and witnesses the most beautiful scenery she has ever seen. Mountains as far as the eye can reach, down below an untouched valley. The rocks, the snow, the animals, the evergreens, it all comes together in a perfect balance, a beautiful mixture of the world’s wonders. In the east, The Four Fingers rise up from its foundation, as the setting sun shimmers an warm glow on the snowy slopes on the west side. The siblings can only stare in awe at the pure beauty of the earth.

“Wow…” Ruth says, breathless. “You can say that again,” David admits. Ruth sits down in the cold snow and breathes in the fresh air, surrounded by small clouds created by her warm breath. Gosh, would she love her Mom to see this. She looks up at the pass, but there’s no sign of her Dad whatsoever.

“Hey, Dad. You alright on that side?!” she shouts loudly, after which her voice echoes on, carried by open air. “He’s getting old,” David jokes. Ruth giggles, but then a strange, unusual roar reverberates through the mountaintops. A howl, but nothing like they’ve ever heard before. “Is that a grey wolf?” Ruth wonders, surprised. “I don’t know. I’ve heard grey wolves before, but this animal sounds different,” David ponders, as he stares down the ridge.

Then they hear it again, much closer this time, or is it just the echo through the mountains that creates that illusion? A bad feeling starts to evolve in David’s stomach as his sister staggers, frightened by the eerie calls. Something’s off. “You stay here, I’m gonna check on Dad, okay?” the oldest of the two says. He looks over at Ruth before he grabs his axe and climbs to the other side of the pass. The Lone Tree is easily overcome and he descents down the mountain. “Dad?!” he shouts.

But the forest stays remarkably quiet. Too quiet. It’s just now that David realizes that he doesn’t hear the birds, nor other mammals that live in these woods. The trees don’t even whisper, the mountain seems dead. Carefully, David shuffles through the snow, which is perfectly white, until he stumbles on an odd color in this grey toned landscape.

Red.

Slowly, David’s gaze looks further ahead, afraid of what is about to come into view. This could well be an animal prey, a deer maybe. But he knows it isn’t, and when his gaze reaches the end of the bloody trail, his biggest fear is confirmed to have become reality. Under a tree lays his father, torn to pieces. In horror, David stumbles back, frightened, until he falls into the heavy snow. Then he hears the howl again, followed by a gut wrenching scream, coming from over the pass; it’s his sister. Large eyes full of terror stare up the pass while he realizes what he’s hearing, is the sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking. Even though he knows it’s useless, a chilling cry escapes his throat. “RUTH!!!”

There you have it, the first chapter of the new episode “Black Dog”. I hope I got your attention! Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter two here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Dean x OFC #Sam x OFC #Supernatural fanfiction #supernatural series #spn fanfiction #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #SPN #Supernatural #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #Black Dog #1x03 Black Dog #Kate Huntington

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

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Partying and Poker Faces

Criminal Minds x Supernatural

Word Count: ~3350

Warnings: Errbody gettin drunk. Terrible zamboni puns.

A/N: No, seriously, it’s just random drunk conversations. They are ridiculous. It’s fun. Thanks to @stunudo, @fookinghelljensensthighs, @lastactiontricia and everybody else in the Slack chat who listened to me ramble and helped with Nutcracker jokes/Winchester band names. Hair clip scene inspired by this post.

Part 6 of the Rockstar AU!

The “Wayward Sons” World Tour: Pre-Tour Kickoff Party

. . .

“Okay, seriously though, my friend found all these pictures of them at Bonnaroo walking around with a girl with blue hair, right? So she did a side-by-side analysis and she swears it’s Harry Styles in a wig. Like, honest to god.”

“Who’s Harry Styles?” Spencer asks, putting his book down and rubbing his eyes as he comes out of his reading trance.

“Only the love of my life,” Penelope tells him.

“Penelope,” Emily interrupts. “You are not allowed to ask him if he’s really friends with Harry Styles.”

Penelope deflates slightly. “But -”

JJ tells her, “You are definitely not allowed to ask if you can have Harry Styles’s phone number.”

Penelope rolls her eyes. “Apparently there’s a whole group of crazies who think he and Sam are actually dating. There are conspiracy theories and everything.”

“Let’s just outlaw the subject of Harry Styles altogether,” JJ says hurriedly. “Okay?”

“Oh my God, I wouldn’t actually ask. Are you ready yet, Em?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Emily replies, glaring at her reflection. She’s been trying to even out her wings for like half an hour now. “I look like a raccoon.”

“So… normal then?” Spencer asks, with his cheekiest smile.

“Uh oh, we’ve got Sassy Spence tonight,” JJ says. She grabs Emily’s arm to tug her away from the mirror. “You’re gorgeous. Let’s go.”

“Forward, march!” Penelope orders. “To Suite 202!”

. . .

“So then Sammy asks if she’s his daughter,” Dean finishes.

Hotch and Spencer laugh; it makes Hotch look about ten years younger.

“What did she say?” Spencer asks, tucking his hair behind his ears again. With his legs crossed in his ratty Chucks, he looks too young to be drinking.

“Just said ‘I’m his wife,’ ice cold, and walked away.”

“You should’ve seen the look on Sam’s face,” Cas adds. He settles down next to Dean, handing him a fresh drink and sitting close. For a moment Dean forgets that they’re allowed to be close, that he’s not in public any more, and then he puts an arm around Cas, smiling to himself.

“What about you?” Dean asks.

“I haven’t gotten starstruck since Kurt Cobain,” Hotch answers. “But you should ask Spencer what happened when he met David Byrne.”

“Spencer, what happened when you met David Byrne?” Cas asks with a smirk.

“Well… you know how Freud talked about seeing the Acropolis for the first time? The feeling of derealization?”

“No,” Dean says, raising his eyebrows. “Should I?”

“What you have to understand is that my mom was playing me the Talking Heads while I was in the womb,” Spencer continues earnestly. “Remain In Light, mostly, because it came out that year, but — anyway. Research shows —“

“David Byrne is his Acropolis,” Hotch translates. “He didn’t speak for almost two hours after they were introduced.”

“And I get the feeling there aren’t many things that render him speechless,” Cas says dryly.

. . .

“Hey there, hot stuff,” Penelope says, and she sits in the empty spot next to Derek on the couch. She almost kicks Spencer as she does so; he’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch, hunched over one of the acoustic guitars that everybody’s been passing around.

“You know there’s another chair, right?” asks Sam, who’s sprawled out in one of the armchairs opposite their couch.

“Trust me, it’s pointless,” Derek tells him. “He hates chairs.”

“That’s not true,” Spencer says absent-mindedly, tucking his hair behind his ears. “I like the ones with wheels.”

“Wait, you play keys, right?” Sam asks, watching Spencer pluck out a quick, dexterous open-tuned thing that Penelope is pretty sure he’s improvising.

“And synths,” Spencer says, pushing his hair out of his eyes again. “But also… a little bit of everything, I guess.”

“Guitar, bass, drums, violin, cello, saxophone, clarinet,” Derek rattles off proudly. “What else? There are some weird ones.”

“Didgeridoo!” Penelope adds.

“She calls it my didgeri-don’t,” Spencer says, and it’s true; it’s her least favorite instrument, which is unfortunate because it’s one of her favorite words.“And there are a few things I built, I guess, but haven’t really named yet.”

“That’s awesome,” Sam says, looking suitably impressed.

“You need a goddamn haircut, Pretty Boy,” Derek says, as Spencer tries to get his hair out of his eyes again.

“Don’t listen to him,” Sam tells Spencer, running a hand through the shampoo-commercial situation he has on his own head. “And don’t let my brother start in on you, either.”

Penelope rummages in her purse for a second and pulls out a neon green butterfly clip. She combs some hair back from Spencer’s forehead, twists it, and secures it so that the butterfly is right on the crown of Spencer’s head.

“Thanks, that’s much better,” Spencer says, giving her a quick smile over his shoulder. Sam stifles a laugh.

“Hey,” Derek says, in an undertone. “Got any more of those?”

“I love the way your brain works,” Penelope stage-whispers back. She digs around until she has a whole handful of aggressively colorful glittery barrettes (some are shaped like flowers, some have pom-poms) and passes half to Derek. She leans down and starts to braid a little section of hair near Spencer’s temple. He doesn’t seem to notice.

. . .

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Hotch asks, as he starts mixing himself a drink. “I don’t think we met at the surprise show.”

“Jack,” the kid says, with a sweet smile. He’s all fresh-faced and earnest. Hotch has concerns.

“I’m Aaron, but everybody calls me Hotch,” he says. “What‘s your part in this whole circus?”

“I’m their guitar tech,” he chirps. “Cas is my uncle, also. He’s the one who got me the job.”

“Uh-huh. First tour?”

He nods. “I’m excited! This is going to be great.”

Hotch has a feeling this is going to be trouble.

Jack has a hand on the whiskey bottle when Hotch notices and asks, “How old are you?”

“He’s twenty,” Charlie interrupts, snatching the bottle from Jack’s hand. “Down, boy.”

Jack shrugs, not seeming particularly bothered, and wanders away with his soda.

“Good to know,” Hotch says wryly.

Charlie gives Hotch an apologetic look and says, “I feel like a spoilsport. Like, let the kid have some fun, right?”

“So you followed all the rules when you were his age?”

“Well, no, not so much, although I wasn’t into drinking so much as… um. Mild felonies.” She wrinkles her nose expressively. “But I have strict orders from Cas. He might look like a teddy bear, but Cas can be scary.”

“Felonies,” Hotch says, trying to keep a straight face. Charlie nods.

“Hacking, mostly?” she says tentatively. “There was some… environmentally focused cyber-terrorism, I guess you’d call it.”

“You should talk to Penelope, she used to do that sort of thing as well.”

Charlie looks over dubiously at Penelope, who is pulling up the hem of Derek’s shirt and showing off his abs, Vanna White style, for Sam’s benefit. Sam looks shockingly unaffected, so odds are he is straight, in which case, Rossi owes Hotch some money.

“Really. She was actually contacted by the FBI, they wanted to hire her, but.” Hotch smiles at the way Charlie’s mouth falls open. “She has a whole… sordid history. They used to call her the Black Queen.”

“Are you… what?” Charlie asks incredulously.

“I know, it’s a ridiculous name, but —”

“No, that’s — I can’t believe it,” Charlie stutters. “Really?”

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “Really. Does that mean something to you?”

Charlie shakes her head, eyes wide. “You don’t understand, she’s a legend. She’s like a frakking rockstar.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, like an actual rockstar,” Charlie insists. “Not that you’re not a rockstar, I didn’t mean — holy crap.”

“Would you like me to introduce you?” Hotch offers.

Charlie goes pale. “I don’t — um.”

“I think you’re the first person who has ever been intimidated by Penelope Garcia,” Hotch muses.

Charlie does a quick shot of whiskey before nodding. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

. . .

“I am so fuckin’ glad I don’t have to deal with this every night,” Bobby says gruffly, with an expansive gesture at everyone in the room and their varied levels of inebriation. “We’re too old for this shit. Don’t know how you still want to go out on the road.”

“Of all the groups I’ve managed, believe it or not, this one’s the easiest.”

Bobby looks across the room to where JJ is passing around shots and Emily is talking everybody into a game of Truth or Dare, as a “bonding exercise.” Spencer is clinging to Morgan’s back like a gangly white Yoda; Morgan, who’s serenading Sam with “Wonderwall” (Sam is covering his ears and looking pained) doesn’t seem to notice his weight.

“I don’t believe it, actually,” Bobby tells Rossi, who shrugs.

“They take care of each other, really. No ego involved, with any of them, which is rare enough in this business.” Rossi pauses as Penelope shrieks; Hotch, who is standing between her and Charlie, looks vaguely alarmed, but nobody seems to be in any real danger. Rossi adds, “They may act like a bunch of assclowns sometimes, but they’re much smarter than they look. I told you, didn’t I?”

“Fair enough,” Bobby says. He’d called Rossi on a whim, looking for an opener for Dean’s surprise show and hinting about “discretion” and “liberal types,” trying not to give too much away. He’d expected Rossi to put him in touch with a friend of a friend, or something. He didn’t expect this to work out so well.

Bobby’s not used to things working out well. It’s a nice change.

“Good to see you again, anyway” Rossi says. “You’re coming out to a few more shows, right?”

“Course. I’ll be around here and there.”

“Bet you’ll miss them soon enough. I was bored stiff when I was retired,” Rossi says.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to get those two through their teenage years,” Bobby grouches. “Just about put me in an early grave.”

“They seem like good kids,” Rossi says. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since they were… how old?”

Bobby can’t help but smile at that. “Yeah, they’ve got good heads on their shoulders. They grew up. Just in time, too. I kept tellin’ them, success is going to change things, but I don’t think they believed me. Idjits.”

Rossi nods knowingly. “Cheers to success, then. And old friends.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

. . .

“Pastor’s son, in the church,” Emily says.

“Twins,” Dean replies smugly.

“Nice.” Emily gives him a fist-bump. “Backstage during a performance of The Nutcracker.”

“I’ll be very disappointed if there were no nut jokes.”

Emily smirks. “Well, there were no actual nuts involved, but the fairy did, in fact, taste like sugar plums.”

“Yeah, okay, not bad,” Dean says. He clinks his beer bottle against hers and they drink. “On top of a zamboni.”

“You mean zam-bone-y?”

“Thank you! Sam rolled his eyes so hard I thought they were gonna fall out when I said that.”

“The Roxy.”

“Green room? C’mon,” Dean scoffs. “Amateur hour.”

“Nope,” Emily says triumphantly. “In the crowd, during a Guns N Roses show.”

“Okay, that’s fuckin’ awesome,” Dean laughs.

“It really was.”

Dean’s eyes flick across the room, following Cas, who just deadpanned something that’s making Hotch double over with laughter. Dean’s eyes go crinkly at the corners as his smile gets even brighter — a full-on megawatt movie star smile — and his expression is so sweet and soft and utterly adoring that Emily melts a little bit.

“Gross,” she says, elbowing Dean. He elbows her right back.

“Shuddup,” he mutters.

“No more twins for you,” Emily sing-songs.

“Worth it,” Dean says firmly, and even she can’t think of anything snarky to say to that.

. . .

JJ can only understand about one in five of the words Penelope and Charlie are chattering to each other, so she gives up and leaves them to it. She’s slightly concerned they’re plotting to take over the world, or something. They don’t seem to notice her leaving.

Dean and Emily are side by side on one of the couches, both slouching, with their feet up on the coffee table and beers resting on their stomachs, giggling about something as if they’ve been lifelong friends. The whole tableau is unexpected, but not in a bad way.

There’s something about Dean that JJ just didn’t like, at first. It’s mostly that he’s too likable. In every interaction they’ve had, he’s been incredibly charismatic, warm, polite, funny… but it’s not him.

JJ is an expert at getting people to trust her without ever showing her hand. She recognizes a bluff when she sees one.

She’s been watching Dean, whenever he thinks she’s not paying attention. He lets his guard down, sometimes, when he’s with his brother or Cas, but there’s a well-disguised wall that goes up when he talks to anyone else. It’s defensive fortifications camouflaged as charm.

Apparently Emily’s shoved through whatever wall Dean usually puts up when he’s around strangers. Emily can do that to a person, though. JJ knows that better than anybody.

Emily’s clearly teasing him about something. He’s grinning, boyish and bashful and genuine, and JJ likes him a hell of a lot more, suddenly.

She heads over to join them on their couch, sliding over the armrest to sprawl halfway over Emily’s lap and cuddle in close.

“Are you two still playing Truth or Dare? This doesn’t look very daring.”

“Debauchery pissing contest,” Emily informs her.

Dean is watching her, and his walls are up again: pleasant smile slapped on his face, eyes calculating, playing it close to the chest until he figures her out.

She raises an eyebrow and prompts him: “Well? Aren’t you going to ask me?”

He looks suspicious, but he goes with it. “What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” JJ says primly, and for a second Dean’s actually thinking about taking her seriously. She rolls her eyes. “Kidding. Middle of a Guns N Roses show.”

He looks confused for a second. Then Emily and JJ high-five, and Dean barks out a laugh.

“I didn’t know you —”

He hesitates.

“Swing that way?” JJ supplies.

“Yeah, that.”

“Most people don’t, and we’re gonna keep it that way. Understood?”

Dean seems surprised by the sudden sharp edge in her voice. “Gotcha.”

“I used to think she was crazy for not coming out publicly,” Emily tells Dean, but she’s looking at JJ with a little half-smile on her face. “But now that people are starting to give a shit about us, sometimes I think she might’ve had the right idea.”

“Don’t lie, you love being an ‘inspiration to the youth,’” JJ says, with mocking finger quotes. “And you’ve been disappointing your mom for years, she’s used to it. Mine would probably have a heart attack.”

“Yeah, but the number of times I get that fucking ‘Does that mean you’re attracted to pans?’ bullshit, I swear to God…”

Dean’s looking at JJ again, but this time it’s less calculating and more admiring. He nods slowly like something just started to make sense.

“Helluva poker face,” he says approvingly.

JJ grins. “Yours isn’t too bad either.”

. . .

“I gotta ask,” Spencer says, slurred and slow. “How’d you choose the band name? The Ceiling Fires?”

Sam shrugs. “It was a recurring dream that Dean and I both used to have.”

“Weird image.” Spencer makes a face as he undoes one of the tiny braids Penelope left in his hair. “Not that — weird isn’t a bad thing. It’s memorable.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Dean called it that as a joke, to start with, I think, but...” Sam rambles. He’s right at that point of drunk where words just keep rolling off his tongue. “Feels like a long time ago. I mean, I did not in a million years think we’d end up here.”

“Linear time,” Spencer comments.

Sam waits for him to finish the thought, but apparently that’s it.

“Linear time,” he repeats agreeably. “It’s not just… time, though, you know? It’s the whole deal. Success, I guess. People listening. Expecting you to look a certain way, or… I don’t fucking know.”

Spencer nods pensively, combing his fingers through his hair again. “We did a magazine photo shoot the other day and they wouldn’t let me wear any of my own clothes. I like my clothes. And people keep asking if I’m dating anybody.”

“Yeah, I’ve been getting that question too.” Spencer doesn’t know the half of it. Sam laughs to himself, rubbing his forehead, and takes a big gulp of his drink.

Spencer pulls out another barrette with a grimace. “I mean, why would anyone care if you’re dating… who was it? Harry Styles?”

Sam chokes and spits whiskey everywhere.

“Who —” he wheezes, and has to stop to cough. “Fucking — how did you know?”

“Wait, really?”

“What?”

“Penelope said it was just a stupid rumor,” Spencer says. He’s squinting at Sam like he’s seeing double.

“Shit.” The adrenaline rush is going a long way toward sobering Sam up. He shakes his head and tries to pull himself together. “Shit. I just… shit.”

“Is that a big deal?” Spencer asks, with a mild sort of confusion. “Penelope made it sound like a joke. She called it a conspiracy theory.”

Sam stares at him, open-mouthed, before dropping his head into his hands with a groan. “Yeah, let’s just keep calling it a conspiracy theory, okay? I already owe his publicist a fucking… fruit basket, or maybe just a lot of wine.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t actually know who that is,” Spencer offers. Sam laughs weakly. “No, really, I won’t tell anybody. Even Penelope. Especially Penelope.”

Sam studies him for a second. He looks earnest enough, in a boozy, unfocused way, but Sam’s learned the hard way that most people can’t be trusted.

Still, worth a try.

“If you could — yeah. Please? Just… please don’t tell anybody.”

“Believe me,” Spencer says. “I know how it goes. If you let people see the things that matter…” He trails off, his eyes sliding to a point somewhere over Sam’s shoulder, and his voice gets unexpectedly clear and fierce. “People can be vicious. I wouldn’t give them a weapon like that.”

Sam’s pretty sure he shouldn’t feel so reassured — Spencer still has a glittery butterfly clip sticking out from behind one ear — but he is, somehow.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

Spencer shrugs, like it’s nothing, and settles the guitar in his lap again. “Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.”

“Oh hell no,” Sam grumbles, and throws a couch cushion at him.

. . .

“Okay,” Hotch says decisively. “Everybody have their room keys?”

“Aww! He’s like the world’s cutest drill sergeant,” Charlie says. Hotch scowls at her, but he has a feeling it’s not very intimidating. She just giggles.

“Rossi?” Hotch asks, looking around and doing a quick head count.

“Went to bed an hour ago to listen to the latest episode of his fucking true crime podcast,” Emily says.

Hotch frowns. “Without me? Sneaky bastard.”

“Of all the weird fucking hobbies…” JJ mutters. “Hey, Morgan, is it my turn to be the jetpack?”

“Fuck no. I am way too buzzed to be carrying any of you home tonight. You can walk.”

“I’m not sure I can, actually,” Spencer says morosely. He looks like a rag doll, sitting on the floor, propped up by the side of the couch.

“Somebody come get Schroeder,” Dean mumbles, from where he’s curled up on the couch with his head in Cas’s lap.

“We got this,” Penelope says determinedly. She grabs Spencer by the wrists and hauls him to his feet, and they lean against each other heavily, somehow managing to stay upright.

Sam opens the door for them, smiling bemusedly as they all start to trail past: Morgan first, uncharacteristically wobbly on his feet; Emily and JJ, with their hands tucked into each other’s back pockets; Spencer and Penelope, staggering dangerously; and finally, Hotch bringing up the rear.

“Thanks,” he tells Sam, and waves at the others. “See you tomorrow.”

Before the door closes behind him, Hotch hears Dean say, “It’s gonna be a fun tour.”

#criminal minds x supernatural #crossover #cm #spn #criminal minds fic #supernatural fic

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thatfanficstuff · 4 years

Text

My Alpha - Sam and Dean

Pairing: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader; Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader. No cheating.

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, angst

A/N: This was for @ ne-gans birthday challenge. It’ s a couple of days late because nerve pain sucks. My prompt was a/b/o with the Winchester brothers. It’s my first time writing a/b/o though I love reading it so hopefully I didn’t make a complete mess of it. I’ve had this idea for ages. Enjoy.

***

You were an Omega in a world of Alphas so you’d learned early on to take care of yourself. To put the assholes in their place. To not be the typical, obedient Omega. It was a necessity to survive in your world. Your father owned a bar frequented by hunters. And no, there wasn’t an antler to be found.

The people that frequented your father’s establishment hunted far more dangerous prey than deer and bunny rabbits. It wasn’t exactly the type of lifestyle that attracted betas and omegas. So, you took your suppressants and kept your distance when necessary. You had fully intended to take over the bar from your father when he became too old to run it. And then Sam happened.

Sam Winchester was quiet and polite. He was cautious and calm. And he sure didn’t let anyone talk any shit to you before he even knew who you were. He was the complete opposite of everything you’d learned to expect from an Alpha hunter.

It started as one drink at a booth in the corner at the end of your shift. Then he kept coming back to see you. He was always alone which you found odd considering you never heard tale of one brother without the other being involved. On the other hand, Alphas tended to not want others of their kind around when they were courting an Omega.

Now that you’d been properly claimed and marked, Sam was taking you home to meet Dean. Your leg bounced as you watched the scenery passing by the window of your car. Sam had flown in to meet you so the two of you could drive back to the bunker. If everything went according to plan, he intended for the two of you to live there together. You just had to get the approval of big brother first.

A warm hand settled on your thigh and you glanced over to find Sam watching you with a worried expression. You bit at your lip and did your best to calm yourself, but even you could smell the anxiety pouring from you. “Sorry.” Your face heated and you ducked your head.

“There’s no reason to worry, ‘mega. Dean’s going to love you. And if he doesn’t, we’ll just live somewhere else.”

You nodded once and gripped his hand in yours. “I just don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“You’re never any trouble, Y/N.” He turned his hand so he had a better hold on yours and pulled it over to his lap. “Everything will be fine. Just wait and see.”

As soon as Sam said the words, you cringed. You weren’t overly superstitious but you did believe in not tempting fate. However, even you couldn’t have predicted how quickly everything would go so horribly wrong.

The moment you stepped out of the car you were engulfed in a warm, rich scent that was a mix of leather, whiskey and something completely undefinable. It was like you’d stepped into a cloud of your favorite cologne and you wished you could stay there all day. Your eyes drifted closed as you got lost in the aroma and you leaned against the side of the car.

“You okay, ‘mega?” Sam’s rich voice interrupted the near religious experience you were having.

You jerked upright and nodded once. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips. “Yeah. I’m fine, Alpha.”

His brow furrowed as he looked you over. Before he could say anything else, another deeper, rougher voice invaded the space. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it today, Sammy.”

You tore your gaze away from your alpha and immediately located the new presence in the room. You’d seen pictures of Dean, images on Sam’s phone that he shared when he told you stories about his brother so his attractiveness came as no surprise. The piercing eyes, the confident demeanor, were just as you’d expected. But his presence…well, that was something else entirely.

The brothers were talking, greeting each other, when Dean’s gaze shifted to meet yours. You gasped at the force of desire that drove straight through you. There was nothing sexual about the feeling. It wasn’t lust. It was the desire that came from wanting to be with someone. The want to be close to them, to share their space. It was the need that an omega felt for their alpha.

Your head spun with the realization. What was happening?

“Y/N,” Dean said with a nod of his head. And dear god, that voice saying your name…

Now, that sent a jolt of pure lust through you. He put his attention back on his brother but not before you caught the way the corner of his mouth tipped up. “Your omega looks exhausted, Sam. We can catch up tomorrow.”

Dean left the garage and Sam was at your side a moment later. “You doing okay? Dean’s right, you look a little lost.”

You cleared your throat and gave him a soft smile. “I’m fine, Sam. It’s just a lot to take in.”

He pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to your head. You did your best to swallow your guilt as he took your hand in his and led you into the bunker.

***

The bunker had been dark and quiet for hours, yet you still couldn’t sleep. Your brain refused to quiet and instead raced between thoughts of Sam and his brother. When you’d made the trip, you’d been terrified Dean wouldn’t want you around. Now, you were afraid he would. You couldn’t imagine a more acute torture than living with the two alphas.

Finally, you sighed and slipped from the bed, doing your best not to disturb Sam. He’d fuss over you and that was the last thing you wanted right now. You padded into the kitchen and got yourself a glass of water. You drained it in several long swallows then refilled the glass. Your mind drifted as you leaned against the sink and it took you a moment to realize that the rich scent that had surrounded you since you arrived had grown thicker.

You sucked in a breath and stilled. The string that seemed to connect you to Dean drew taught and you could track his progression to you without even turning around. He stopped inches behind you and inhaled deeply. Your heart raced and you gripped the edge of the sink with your free hand.

“What are you doing up, omega?”

A shudder went through you and you bit your lip. “You shouldn’t call me that.”

He stepped closer, all but eliminating the distance between you. He leaned forward, his body creating a cage around you. His mouth laid next to your ear. “Omega.”

You spun then, gasping when you came face to face with him. “Sam’s my alpha.”

Dean made a sound of agreement. “Of course, he is, sweetheart. But so am I.”

“That’s…that’s not possible.”

And there it was again. That smirk of his that turned your knees to jelly. Damn it, Dean Winchester. “Possible or not, it’s happening. Don’t tell me you can’t feel this. You’re mine, Y/N.”

You wanted to argue. To scream at him and tell him he was wrong. To leave you alone because you loved Sam. You chose Sam. This thing between you and Dean shouldn’t even exist. And it was then that you realized what was happening. Dean Winchester was your true alpha. Son of a bitch.

***

A couple of weeks had passed and you and Dean continued to dance around each other. You seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement to keep the nature of your connection from Sam. He was simply thrilled that you and his brother were getting along so well. And while he picked up on your anxiety more than once, he chalked it up to you still being nervous in your new surroundings.

That morning the two of you sat at the table drinking your coffee and discussing your plans for the day when Sam tilted his head to look you over. He frowned and his gaze narrowed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mark was fading.”

Your hand flew to your neck to cover the spot in question and panic shot through you. “What?”

Sam chuckled as he got up from the table, mug in hand. He leaned down and kissed you. “Relax, Y/N. I’ll just mark you again. It’s not a big deal.”

“I think maybe we should discuss that first, Sam.”

You both glanced at the doorway to the kitchen in surprise. Dean leaned against the frame, smirking at you over his cup of coffee.

Sam straightened. “There is nothing to discuss. And even if there was, it wouldn’t have anything to do with you.”

Dean shifted his gaze from his brother to you. “Is that true, Y/N? This doesn’t have anything to do with me?”

Moisture pooled in your eyes and you clenched your teeth. Why was he pushing this and why like this? There were so many better ways to have this conversation.

“Y/N?” Sam said, pulling your attention to him. “What’s he talking about?”

Your gaze shifted back to his brother. “Why do you have to be such an ass, Dean?”

He smirked and sauntered further into the room. “Now, sweetheart, that’s no way to talk to your alpha.”

Sam’s gaze narrowed. “Her alpha? I think you’re confused, Dean.”

You shifted in your seat as the room began to fill with the aroma of their irritation and rising aggression. When Sam stepped closer to his brother, you placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “He’s my true mate, Sam.”

“What?” The broken tone of his voice went straight to your heart. His shoulders slumped and he dropped into the chair beside you. Your hand gripped his. “How…when did you figure it out?”

You looked away from him, unable to meet his gaze. “The day we got here.”

He jerked his hand from yours and straightened in his seat. “You knew and you said nothing?”

“Sam—”

“No.” He pushed to his feet. “If you were truly my omega, you would have told me.”

Your gaze followed him as he stormed from the room, his shoulder knocking into his brother on the way by. Your chest ached as your heart cracked. Your alpha was hurting and it was your fault. God, you were a horrible omega. You bit back a sob and dropped your head into your hands.

“We were going to have the conversation sooner or later, Y/N.” Dean sounded mildly remorseful, but you weren’t buying it for a minute.

“Bullshit. Yes, it needed to be had but you went about it the shittiest way possible and you know it. You hurt him, Dean.”

“Damn it, Y/N.” He slammed his palm against the table. “What do you think it does to me every damn day seeing you with him? Half the time you barely acknowledge my presence. I never thought that I would find an omega and I was okay with that. Hell, I was fucking thrilled most of the time because I didn’t want to bring them into this life.”

He raked a hand through his hair and paced the small stretch of floor in front of you. “But then you came and I suddenly realized everything I had been missing. And I don’t want it with someone else. I want it with you. I know that Sammy found you first, that he claimed you and you let him do it, but you’re mine. You were made for me.”

He leaned on the table, hovering over you. “You may love my brother, but you know, deep down inside, that you belong to me.”

With that, he stormed away, leaving you broken and completely confused.

***

For days, the three of you avoided one another. It was stupid and resolved nothing, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say any of the words that needed to be said. The fourth morning, Sam was awakened by Dean yelling his name. Sam ignored him and rolled over, clutching a pillow to his chest. When his door slammed open, Sam bolted upright in his bed and frowned at his brother. “What the hell, Dean?”

“She’s gone.”

Sam rolled his eyes and laid back down. “She probably just went to the store or something. Calm down.”

Dean kicked the bed and Sam sat up to glare at him again. “She left a note.”

Sam snatched the note from his brother’s outstretched hand and scanned the page.

I’m sorry I hurt you. Both of you. The last thing I ever wanted was to come between the two of you and that’s exactly what happened. Biology sucks boys. Being alphas you might not understand that, but it does. I always swore I wasn’t going to be one of those omegas that lets instinct direct their lives, but I guess it happened anyway.

Sam, I love you. I think I loved you the first time I met you and you chased those two guys out of the bar. You were always sweeter than any alpha I’d ever met. I was so lucky that you picked me.

Dean, the connection between us is undeniable. And if I let myself admit it, its love just as much as what I feel for Sam. As much as I want to forget you exist and just live life with my sweet Sam, I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us.

So, I left. Don’t try to find me, I won’t be going home. Not for a while. And by the time that I do, you both will have forgotten me and I’ll be some girl you met once. Let me go, boys. I refuse to come between the two of you. Be brothers. Be happy.

Love Always,

Your Omega

“We fucked up, Sam.”

Sam’s jaw ached from his clenched teeth. “I can’t lose her, Dean. We can’t lose her.”

Dean grinned though his eyes were still worried. “Then let’s go get our girl, Sammy.”

#the thirty two challenge #lisa's birthday challenge #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #a/b/o #supernatural fanfiction

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lunanoirre · 3 years

Text

Episodes 9 and 10

(actually reviewed, no seriously I’m back—)

Ok!

I am back!

Though, I’m going to do something a little different when compared to what I’ve been doing with my other reviews of episodes.

Since I have to rewatch these two to get myself back upto speed, I’m going to jot down my thoughts, live, as I go along!

It’s something I see pretty commonly among this and many other fanbases, so I’m gonna give it a shot!

I hope my raw reactions get at least a fraction of the laughs they give me.

Episode 9:

This is a weird place to start my thoughts, but I do like how relevant the recaps are. I got used to anime, where they tend to recap entire SEASONS for no reason.

Of course it’s a single mom with only young children moving into the Winchester’s childhood house.

“The chair”.... no chair is gonna stop spirits in your closet, hunny

And of course, the chair is moving. Aaaand mom’s in the basement. Cool !!

Why did John leave a box of keepsakes in THAT HOUSE ???????????? Especially pictures, jesus christ, those are always known to have supernatural links

What the hell is that flaming mass in the closet.

Ok, how the hell did Sam match his tree drawing to the tree in the photo—

“Why would you think that?” “Uh—... I jus-Uhm-“ valid point, good job Sammy

Seeing Sam so distraught is honestly really heartbreaking.

Why did Dean say he would never go back ...? I mean, I get it, trauma, but... Dean doesn’t seem the type to avoid that kinda thing.

Did they... Teleport back to Kansas?

I love how Sam immediately destroyed Dean’s lie—

They said the little girl’s name twice, and I did not understand it either time.

Y’know, Dean looks really upset to be there, and I am not liking that.

How is this mom not suspicious of how anxious Sam and Dean were acting—

Sam is NEVER this anxious, holy shit-

“I remember the fire.... the heat.... then I carried you out the front door.” Y... yeah, you were like, what, four? Of course you don’t remember much, Dean

Why is their dad so awful .

AW..,,, DEAN?????

HE’S SO AFRAID WTF

calling John again though. ugh.

Oh. Plumbing. I remember how this went, and I still hate that cymbols monkey.

y’know, garbage disposals are not blenders.

When I watched this with my dad, he also commented that it’s common practice to UNPLUG the disposal before fishing out of it—

Of course John was a marine.

Aah!!! Miss Missouri!!! I loved her!

She is such a comforting lady, I love her VOICE

Tfw she already knows their names

I want her to be my mom. The way she talks to them is so sweet

Dean has seen enough bullshit to not doubt psychics at this point, smh

I just remembered how this episode ends.

Oh, the ghost broke the playpen! Time to fridge the baby !

Why would the kid climb into the fridge at all though?

Thank god they brought Miss Missouri, or else this mom would not trust them ONE bit.

Throwing shade at Dean? Hell yeah.

Oh. Great, not the same demon. Cool

DEAN, DON’T TASTE THE PURIFYING HERBS.

How does no one hear the bullshit behind them???????? Opening drawers, sliding cords, dressers???

Why does everyone like to strangle Sam?

Ow. That light hurt.

“This is all over.”

And then it wasn’t.

Ooh, free earthquake simulator! Don’t even have to leave the bed!

I can’t tell if it’s “Jenny” or “Jinny”.

Ooh, creepy ass flame monster!

And then Sam was taken away.

Watching Dean bang on the door makes me feel much safer in regards to my break-in fears. That shit is LOUD

Mummy Winchester was the flame all alooooong!

These boys really do deserve better, holy shit...

Man, sad that Sam got to meet Mary for the first time as a flame spirit.

How.... did Sam obtain the powers of a medium?

Aw, Dean got the pics back

I’m... How the hell do spirits destroy themselves??? That still makes no sense

Wow. John’s such an asshole.

HE WAS IN THE TOWN AT THE SAME TIME ????????? THAT JERK! WTF.

Thank you, Miss Missouri, for saying what we’re all thinking.

“Not until I know the truth”— yeah, we get it. stop.

Episode 10:

Oh yeah, the asylum. This one isn’t that notable, I remember.

As someone who is neurodivergent, asylums in horror REALLY bug me, but I’m glad that this story turns things on its head.

Why does the anger give the possessed victims nosebleeds?

Ohhhhhh, their dad WAS in Cali.

I wish their dad was dead, instead of toying with them so damn much.

Yes, Dad wants you to work a job because he’s horrid.

I hate that Dean follows it so willingly, but I know that he’s just... looking for ways to please his dad.

Oh my god, they just pulled off a stunt to get the officer’s trust—

Why would you willingly want to explore an asylum? I just really don’t get the thrill.

I get certain “strange vibes” like Sam. But... I often mistake anxiety attacks as that sense, so it’s not that accurate.

Dean.... Dean.... Dean,,

He is in HARD denial about their dumbass dad.

I would be ASHAMED to be the son of someone who worked in an old asylum.

Sam is such a bad liar.

That was such a tease, I was hoping to hear Sam’s actual thoughts on Dean :c

As much as I adore my girlfriend, I would shit my pants if she brought me to an abandoned asylum as a “date”. Haunted house? I’d consider. Just not—.... condemned places are really, really creepy.

Here come the BOYS.

Spn’s editing really does creep me out sometimes. That spirit in the straitjacket, eughfhf...

I really do love that the asylum patients’ ghosts are peaceful. At least this show knows that none of this is their fault.

DEAN. Literally he JUST said to listen to horror movies, and then he just SPLITS UP—

Sam’s powers are kinda odd, but that’s ok.

How did Sam fall for that fake call.

And why does Sam go through the door that opened by itself? He should KNOW BETTER.

Dean calling him Sammy tho...

Good. Bad “doctor” is the villain.

Y’know, weaponizing normal, brotherly anger isn’t funny.

There’s the good little soldier line!!!

I SAW Sam’s brows crease in “wait, what?” when handed the real gun

*whispers* “Sorry, Sammy.”

Does—... Does Dean just use sea salt??

Thanks, Doc, for making a plasma ball in my mouth.

All these near-death experiences are gonna cause some REAL trauma.

Is it just me, or does Jensen have some really pretty eyelashes?

Ah, Christ, here we go—

I hate. Their dad. Already.

Ok, turns out I actually remembered more than I thought I would.

And! I actually watched episode 11. I just... forgot.

Anyway, my next post will have episode 11’s review, along with 12 and maybe 13.

I hope their dad isn’t as bad as I think he is so far...

#supernatural #spn season 1 #spn analysis #Jensen ackles #jared padalecki #dean winchester #sam winchester

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klove0511 · 4 years

Text

The Only Way Out

Author: @klove0511 Artist: @dwimpala-67

Genre: Angst Pairing: Gen Rating: G Wordcount: 8108 Warnings: Major Character Death, hurt!Sam, hurt!Dean, ghost!Sam, canon divergent after season 1 Summary: What if Sam had been the one left in a coma after the car accident?

Fic link: AO3

Art link: Tumblr

The world felt heavy, wrapped in wool and weighted to hold him down. Dean came to slowly, aware first of the sluggish response of his limbs, then more distantly aware of pain when he moved them. A steady, irritating beep told him he was in a hospital just as surely as the sterile smell of cleaning products or too white light over his bed. He struggled through the fog of opioids to remember what he'd done to land him here. What had they been hunting? Why was he alone?

A glance at the window told him it was early morning, with the sky beginning to lighten and clear enough to promise warmth later. Still, the room was medical-building-chilly, and Dean was grateful for the blankets keeping him warm.

He felt his thoughts drifting, trying to piece together what had happened. Dean always hated when they put him on the really heavy pain meds because it became a struggle just to think. He didn't know where Sam was, but the fact that he was absent was concerning enough to cut through some of the haze. Dean remembered the last time he'd woken up in a hospital, after the rawhead incident, and Sam had been there nonstop, except when he couldn't be. The cops had pulled him out of the room for questions, the doctors had shooed him away to let them poke and prod Dean in peace, and one nurse in particular had enforced the hospital's visiting hours to make sure Sam went back to the motel long enough to get some sleep. But all of that had been after Dean woke up. Sam should be here, now. So where was he?

Unfortunately, the fog of the drugs was already pulling him back down into sleep, no matter how he fought to stay awake. A burst of cold from the air conditioning made him shiver, and as he drifted off he swore he could hear Sam saying he’d stay until Dean woke up, though he couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from.

When Dean woke again, the sun shone brightly through his window, warming the room almost to an uncomfortable level. A nurse was taking his vitals, and he was pretty sure she said something about going to get a doctor. Maybe. Waking up in a hospital was worse than a killer hangover.

He grayed out for a minute, but when he was able to refocus, he was already feeling clearer than the last time he’d been conscious. The nurse was back with a dude in a lab coat, who Dean assumed was a doctor.

Dean didn’t bother waiting for the doctor to ask him anything. “Where’s Sam?”

The doctor didn’t answer the question right away, which annoyed Dean. Instead, he replied with a question of his own. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He’d meant it to be sarcastic, but judging by the reactions he got from both the doctor and the nurse, that was pretty close to what had landed him in the hospital. That knowledge did nothing to lessen the anxiety he was feeling over Sam’s continued absence. Already feeling sleep pulling him down again, he tried once more, wishing he didn’t sound so much like he was begging. “Please, where’s my brother?”

This time, the doctor took pity on him. “Your father is visiting him now.”

John listened to Sam’s doctor explaining the extent of his injuries with only half his mind. Sam was lying in the hospital bed, broken beyond repair, and that was all he needed to know. He was going to lose his son, but the demon's plans for Sam were over. He was ashamed to admit there was a sliver of relief in the chaotic emotions running through him. At least now Sam would be safe, and John’s worst fears could be laid to rest.

But beyond the fleeting relief and acceptance, there were the beginnings of grief. More than anything, he wanted a drink or four, but he couldn't do that yet. Later, he would drink himself into oblivion, but first he had to tell Dean. He grimaced. Dean was going to be devastated and telling him was going to be painful. At least John was being granted a reprieve from that duty for now, as Dean still hadn’t woken.

In the meantime, he had business to attend to, and while he hated himself for feeling this way, he was grateful for the distraction. He took one more look at Sam’s still form and murmured, “I’m sorry, son.” Then he pulled out his phone and pulled up Bobby’s number as he exited the hospital.

At the junkyard an hour later, John sifted through the wreckage, looking for the Colt. He could feel Bobby’s eyes on him, but he was doing his best to ignore his friend.

“What are you doing out here, John?” Bobby asked, his voice less accusing than it could have been.

John didn’t answer immediately, but he stopped what he was doing, too. “I’m looking for the gun that’ll kill the thing that killed Mary and put my boys in the hospital.” He wondered, briefly, if his voice sounded as dead as he felt inside.

Bobby scoffed at his answer. “Hell, I could have done emptied the car. Those boys need you to be there for them right now.”

John swallowed down irritation at Bobby presuming to know what his sons needed. He was a good friend, but this was an old argument between them. Bobby had always tried to step in and be the father he thought John failed to be. “Didn’t want to put you out like that. Besides, they aren’t awake yet. No reason I couldn’t do this myself.”

Bobby paused before answering, and John wondered if there was going to be more commentary on his parenting forthcoming. Luckily it seemed there wasn’t going to be when Bobby said, “What do you want to do with the car, then? Don’t seem worth a tow.”

John extricated himself from the wreckage, having found the gun he was looking for. Taking a step back, he surveyed the twisted remains of the Impala. “It’s Dean’s now. I say tow it to your place until he’s ready to work on it. And if he doesn’t want to fix her up, then scrap her.”

Ignoring Bobby’s silent sympathy, John walked away from one of the last remnants of his life with Mary and toward the rental car that would take him back to the hospital and Dean.

By the time John arrived, Dean had declined most of his dinner—opioids made him nauseous—and talked himself down from two panic attacks about Sam. He'd gotten the nurse to confirm that they had, in fact, been hit by a truck, and now that Dean thought about it, he was pretty sure he remembered the sound of breaking glass. Once he started to access the memory, he could remember bits and pieces from before the accident—his dad possessed by the demon, Sam shooting their dad in the leg, feeling woozy from blood loss. Piecing together his memory was the only thing that kept him distracted from thinking about Sam, until his dad appeared in the doorway.

His dad looked haggard, weary in a way Dean hadn't seen before. He was on crutches and sported some impressive bruising, but seemed uninjured otherwise.

"Good to see you awake, son," he said.

"You too, sir." Dean swallowed nervously. "How's Sam?"

His dad's face morphed through half a dozen emotions before settling into careful neutrality, and the bottom dropped out of Dean’s stomach. "Sam is in a coma. It’s bad.”

Dean breathed slowly, deeply, fighting the panic that had been hounding him all day. "He's dying." When John didn't answer immediately, Dean spat, "Isn't he?"

John’s face was a damn mask, revealing nothing, and his even tone was no better. "We don't know. The doctors say they've done all they can, and it's up to Sam now."

Dean nodded, then rasped, "So what are we going to do?"

John was silent for a long time. Too long, in Dean's opinion. "We aren't going to do anything, Dean."

“What?”

John’s face darkened. His dad didn’t like being questioned, but Dean didn’t understand. He knew that finding a legitimate healer was a long shot, but Sam had done it. He’d even done it alone; Dean hadn’t been in any position to help, and John sure as hell hadn’t been around. The two of them together, maybe with Bobby’s network to help, had much better odds of finding a hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on his brother.

John had left angry, but Dean was furious. His dad wanted to “let nature take its course,” which was a load of bullshit. They had access to resources the doctors didn’t, things that could save his brother. They might normally hunt most of those resources in the name of the greater good, but this was different. This was Sam.

Dean sat in a wheelchair by Sam’s bed, trying not to stare at the bandages around his brother’s head. He shivered, remembering the doctor listing off Sam’s injuries.

"Sam suffered a severe blow to the head during the accident. He also sustained several broken ribs and crush injuries from the steering column. We repaired the broken ribs with pins, and we placed a chest tube to reinflate his right lung, which had been punctured by one of his ribs. We were also very concerned about the degree of brain swelling, and during surgery we removed a portion of Sam's skull to help alleviate the pressure."

Dean stared at the tubes practically covering every inch of his brother and tried to imagine part of his skull missing underneath the white bandages swaddling his head. Sam was going to be pissed when he woke up. They'd shaved his head to do the surgery. "How's he doing now?"

The doctor shook his head. "He has remained unresponsive, which is not an encouraging sign, but he's stable at the moment. That said, he is a fighter. Most patients would not have survived even this long with his degree of injury. "

Of course he was a fighter. He was a Winchester.

The doc had been sympathetic, but all Dean could focus on was the idea that Sam was a real life Humpty Dumpty, and try as they might, the doctors couldn’t put him back together again. He needed more than they could offer, and that wasn’t considering the possibility of long-term complications from his injuries. He needed a miracle. But it was perfectly, explicitly clear that John wasn’t going to help and didn’t condone Dean wanting to intervene. He didn't know how he was going to do this behind his dad's back, but he would. He'd find something.

Maybe, if he managed to find something innocuous enough, his dad would come around and help. His gut clenched, and he knew he didn't really believe it, but he could hope. He wasn't going to lose his brother again.

He believed that about as much as he believed the flickering lights in Sam’s room were due to bad wiring.

As soon as Dean was released from the hospital, he went to Bobby's place. The Impala was there with all of their stuff.

All of Sam's stuff.

Dean sighed, surveying the car. It was a mess, the frame twisted beyond recognition. The driver’s side was crushed, and the door had been cut away to give the rescue team better access to Sam. There was dark staining on the seat that he knew had to be Sam’s blood. He looked away, throat tight.

He’d fix the car eventually, but the reason he’d come had been to grab his stuff and pull out anything he thought might be helpful in getting Sam back on his feet. His laptop was toast, and the Colt was gone. According to Bobby, John had come by yesterday and retrieved some gear, then taken off again. They both assumed he was back to chasing the Yellow Eyed Demon. Nothing like revenge for a son he hadn't even officially lost yet.

Heading inside, he grabbed a couple beers from Bobby's fridge. He found the hunter in his study, flipping through one of his dozens of books on the supernatural. "Thanks for bringing Baby here," he said, dropping into a chair. Dust motes swirled in the late afternoon sunbeams coming through the dirty windows, drawing Dean’s attention back out to the yard where his mangled childhood home sat.

Bobby looked up, narrowing his eyes at Dean. "What are you planning, idjit?"

Dean grimaced, wishing the older hunter couldn’t read him so well. "I can't leave Sam like this, you know that." He took a long pull from his beer and swallowed nervously. "I was hoping one of your contacts might know something."

" 'Bout the demon?" Bobby said cautiously.

Dean shook his head. "About a healer. Or a white witch or hoodoo priest or something. Anything that might help."

Bobby ran his hand down his face, stubble rasping as he rubbed his chin. "You know that's a long shot at best."

Dean studied the condensation gathering on the bottle as he picked at the label. "I know. But I gotta do something. He's my brother." He looked away, unwilling to watch Bobby pity him as he said, “Dad won’t help.”

Bobby watched him for a moment, then apparently saw whatever it was he was looking for because he replied, "We'll figure it out. How long you staying before you head back?"

Dean shrugged noncommittally. "Not long. He's stable, for now, but the doctors—"

When he didn't finish his sentence, Bobby grumbled and said, "Yeah, I know. Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you want. And before you say it, I know. You're not leaving him in that hospital by himself. I'm just saying my house is open, all right?"

Dean slumped back in the chair, some of the tension gone from his shoulders. "I talked to the doctor today about getting him transferred to Sioux Falls. They didn't love the idea, but they agreed to it when I said he'd be closer to family. Might be able to happen in a couple days, if—"

Bobby cut him off. "Then give me a call when you're on your way back, and I'll clear out the guest room. Don't think it's been used since the last time you boys stayed with me. And, in the meantime, I'll ask around about healers. Let you know if I hear something."

Dean's nod was small and tight; relief wasn't going to come until he had a lead to follow, but it was still nice to know that Bobby was in their corner.

Dean stood in the doorway to Sam's new room. He was still on a ventilator, though most of the bandages had been removed that morning. Sam was pale, gray tinged, and a far cry from the California-tan he'd been just a few months ago. In the week he'd been hospitalized, Dean could tell he was already losing muscle mass. If Dean managed to pull this off, then Sam was still going to have a long road ahead of him before he was back to normal. But at least he'd be alive, Dean reasoned.

He was greeted by a cool breeze when he crossed the threshold and finally entered the room, like every other time he'd come to visit. It didn't matter how many times he asked the staff at the old hospital, the temperature in his room was perpetually freezing. The idea of the problem following Sam across state lines made his stomach turn.

The plastic chair creaked when he settled in, and he tried to ignore how Sam's shaved head made him look like an alien. The problem was that, like a train wreck, he couldn't look away. Finally, he sighed and said aloud, "Damn, Sammy. I cannot believe you were right about that hair all this time." He shivered, and he would have sworn the temperature dropped another couple degrees, but he kept talking. "I know I gave you a lot of crap about it over the years. But you were absolutely right. You look better with long hair. And I don't mean that just because you're a giant girl." He paused, waiting. When nothing happened, he mentally kicked himself. Of course nothing happened. Sam wasn't dead. He wasn't a ghost; he was a dude in a coma.

"Anyway," he continued, "I found a spell that’ll work, but, uh, I don't think you're gonna like it." The lights and monitors picked that moment to flicker, and an alarm sounded that brought the nursing staff running.

Dean stood out of the way, watching tensely as they did their job checking Sam, his equipment, and the monitors. It wasn't the first time it had happened during a visit, but it never stopped being nerve wracking. What if something important shorted out this time? It was one of the reasons he had worked so hard on getting Sam transferred up to Sioux Falls General. Now it was happening here too. The twist in his gut kept telling him it wasn't faulty equipment that produced the shorts, but he refused to believe it. Sam wasn't dead, damn it.

It's better this way.

When the room had cleared out again, Dean resumed his position in the chair by the bed. "Like hell this is better," he muttered to himself. He sighed and scrubbed his face. "Like I was saying, I found something in one of the books I grabbed from Bobby’s before you got transferred. It's a spell, for binding a reaper."

The temperature in the room plummeted until Dean’s breath was ghosting in front of his face. No.

"I know," he said, his voice gruff and quiet. "I don't like it either. But I have to do something. We know this works. And, yeah, we know the cost, so I'll figure it out. I— Whatever I might be willing to do, I know you would never forgive me if I saved you at someone else's expense. I'll figure it out, ok? Maybe it can target a monster, or something, yeah? Something we'd be killing anyway?"

Nothing from the peanut gallery.

"Fine, be a bitch about it. I won't do the spell." He ground his teeth together, hating that he was giving in to, what? A broken air conditioner? "Not unless I'm out of options. Ok, Sam?"

The lights flickered, but none of the other equipment was affected this time, thankfully. Dean took it as agreement, and he left to hit the books again.

The next day, he got a call from one of Bobby's contacts about a faith healer that was supposed to be the real deal.

He looked into the healer John Rogers, checked for suspicious deaths, unusual money transfers, anything that might indicate he was a fraud or of the same ilk as the pastor's wife Sue Ann from that case in Nebraska. The financials came back squeaky clean, but Dean's gut told him there was something he was missing. He was only an hour away, though, so against his better judgment he stopped in for one of the guy's services.

The tent was crowded, like he remembered from the last time. It was a different preacher, but the same crowd, the same stale air with just a hint of desperation. It was too hot with the press of bodies and lack of air conditioning, and Dean wished he'd skipped the flannel overshirt. The murmur of the crowd made it near impossible to listen in on any conversations, but they seemed excited, optimistic. Well, he supposed any hope was better than none. Not like he could relate.

However, where the pastor in Nebraska had been earnest, this guy felt like a used car salesman. From his first words, Dean felt slimy just being in the same room as the guy, even though he hadn't said anything more troubling than 'welcome, new and old patrons alike.'

Dean leaned forward in his seat, trying to relax but appear attentive. His attention wasn't entirely focused on the sermon, though. He watched the guy, sure, but he also watched the crowd. Dozens of people were in the tent, some with obvious ailments and some without. He focused on maladies easy to fake—people in wheelchairs or wearing sunglasses and hugging a stick—and then watched to see if any of them triggered his Spidey senses. Years of practice conning people had made both him and Sam experts on spotting it in others. He couldn't be sure, of course, but he spied three or four people in the crowd that seemed likely to be plants.

Sure enough, after the dude got done wailing and mumbling as he "spoke in tongues" as the "Spirit moved through him" he called for people that needed healing. Half the crowd erupted into noise, but the first person he selected was one of the ones Dean had spotted—the blind woman. The whole scene played out exactly like he expected, and he made to leave.

"Why are you leaving?" he heard the pastor call out over the din.

Dean paused, unsure if he even wanted to bother engaging the guy.

The pastor made the decision for him by continuing to talk. "I'm sorry for your loss. But I can't help your brother."

Dean whirled, eyes flashing and hand automatically moving to his gun.

The preacher smirked, and for a second, Dean wondered if the guy was just that good at reading body language. He'd seen Sam pull a similar trick two or three times.

"If you can't help him, then why does it matter if I leave?" he finally said, slowly easing his defensive stance.

Tilting his head in acknowledgement, Rogers said nothing more as Dean made his exit.

Armed with new knowledge, Dean would have to resume his research. First thing was to learn more about the woman who had been "healed." His instincts screamed bullshit, but he couldn't afford to be wrong. He found a good spot to wait, and when the service was over he followed the woman. He had to give her credit, she kept up the charade even after she exited the tent. Every few moments she'd stop and look around, an expression of awe on her face. He almost believed it.

He slipped back into the crowd, keeping a casual distance from the woman as she moved through the parking lot. They wove through the cars, and he realized that she was alone. No one was walking with her, chatting about her newfound sight. Leading her to their car. Damn, he'd been right. It was confirmed when she dug through her purse and pulled out keys that she used to unlock a shitty looking Volvo. Dean just managed to catch the license plate number before she drove out of sight.

Back at his motel, Dean ran the plates, found the woman, and dug deep into her financials. The trail was hard to find, but, now that he knew it was there, he did manage to find it: small, irregular cash payments deposited into her bank account starting six months ago. Never more than $100 at a time, and never more than twice a month. He didn’t think it was enough money to justify lying to so many people, but it wasn't really up to him to judge in this case. For good measure, he also uncovered as much medical history as he could on the lady and was utterly unsurprised to find zero references to blindness in her files. However, he didn't uncover an explicit link between her and the preacher. He was sure he would if he kept looking, but that wasn't important anymore. The guy was a fraud healer, but he still knew something. Dean needed to find out if that something was information that could help Sam.

The heat of the day was just starting to fade when Dean knocked on the preacher's door. He lived in a nice neighborhood by most people's standards. Dean thought it was mind-numbingly dull, but hey, maybe it was better than it looked. The man didn't even look at Dean when he opened the door, just gestured him into the house.

"You're psychic," Dean said as he settled himself into an overstuffed chair that was more comfortable than it looked.

"I am." He sat down on the couch across from Dean.

"And a fraud. Is your name even John Rogers?"

Rogers smirked. "You know the answer to that." He leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the couch. "I wasn't lying before. I can't help your brother."

"But you do know something," Dean accused.

The preacher sighed. "I know what's in your head right now—he's in a coma, dying a slow death. You came here on the slim chance that I was the real deal. Sorry that didn't work out for you."

Strangely enough, Dean believed the guy actually was sorry, but he didn't buy that Rogers didn't know anything else. Sam was the one who could sweet talk witnesses into giving up info, though, so Dean went with his tried and true method when working alone: stony silence with a hint of aggression.

Rogers rolled his eyes. "Fine. I may have heard of something. I didn't look into it—no need for myself—so it may be another wild goose chase." He stood, moving to pour himself a drink from the sidebar. He didn't offer Dean one.

Dean waited as patiently as he could. This guy could be jerking him around for all he knew, but he didn’t think so, and his instincts hadn't been wrong yet.

With an excessive number of dramatic pauses, he finally told Dean about a spell. It was supposed to be ancient and powerful. Could practically bring people back from the dead. He didn't have much more than that, but he told Dean to look in an old grimoire called The Magus. Dean hadn't heard of it before, but he was sure it would be a bitch to find.

John considered letting his phone go to voicemail until he saw that it was Bobby calling. There were a very limited number of reasons why that self-righteous dick might be calling him, and he knew better than to think Bobby would leave that sort of news in a voicemail. He took a deep breath, burying his grief as far as he could before he flipped open the phone. “Winchester.”

Bobby’s gruff voice didn’t sound devastated, just annoyed, and John breathed a little easier. It wasn’t Sam then. “You need to get your ass back here, John. Dean needs you.”

“Dean doesn’t want me there.” It hurt to admit that, but he couldn’t blame his son. When the demon had possessed him, he’d seen its plans for Sam, and it had been a confirmation of everything he’d learned over the last twenty years. He hadn’t told Dean what he knew, and if John had his way then Dean would never know.

Bobby grumbled, “His brother’s dying. Of course he wants you here. Now, I don’t know what damn fool thing you said, and I don’t care. He’s going after The Magus, John. Says there’s some spell in it should be able to heal Sam.”

John felt his jaw clench so hard he thought he might have cracked a tooth. “He’s going to get himself killed trying to do a spell like that.”

“Why the hell do you think I’m calling you? Boy’s aiming to commit suicide by magic, if he can find the book. If we find it first, then maybe I can convince him to let me do the spell, but we both know that’s a long shot too.” Bobby sighed heavily. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where we might find a medieval grimoire, do you?”

John closed his eyes. “No, but I’ll work it out. I’ll call when I’ve got something. Watch out for Dean.” He didn’t wait to hear Bobby’s reply before he hung up. The man was probably just going to chew him out for not agreeing to head to Sioux Falls immediately.

He looked out the window and saw storm clouds blowing in off Lake Michigan. Dean hadn’t backed off like he should’ve, and now John was going to have to act. He couldn’t let the demon’s plans come to fruition, and he wasn’t going to let Sam suffer because of their selfishness. It was the least he could do. The room blurred as the first drops of rain fell, and John started to work out what could be done to stop Dean.

It had been two weeks of spinning their wheels looking for the grimoire, and they were no closer to the book than they had been originally. Dean flipped through one of Bobby’s books, frowning at the page. This one seemed familiar. A glance at the spine revealed why. He’d read it already. Twice. Sighing in frustration he tossed the book onto the “dud” stack and slumped in his seat, hands tugging at his hair.

They couldn’t afford to take much longer. Sam was deteriorating. The doctor had told him that just this morning; she’d said that the machines could probably keep him going indefinitely, but everything that made him Sam would be gone. It wasn’t a reality Dean was ready to face, and he’d stalked out of the hospital, not even staying for his usual bitchfest at the broken AC in Sam’s room. Just remembering it made anger—fear—coil tightly in the pit of his stomach, and he stood, sweeping the desk clear of the stacks of useless backs, a wordless scream escaping his throat.

Bobby walked in, holding two beers, and he surveyed the mess. Quirking an eyebrow at Dean, he said, “Take a break.”

Dean just stared back incredulously. “I don’t have time to take a break. Sam—”

“Is dying.” Bobby’s tone wasn’t harsh, but Dean flinched anyway. “I know. But you’re no good to him like this. We been through these books twice each, and we’ve got squat. So, go outside, take a break. Work on that car of yours for a bit and burn off some of that anger. Maybe something’ll come to you. I seem to remember cracking a case or two that way. Keep my hands busy enough to turn off my brain, but the problem still gets worked in the background.” He handed over one of the beers as Dean sulked past him to go outside.

He didn’t go to the Impala. Though he’d worked on her off and on for weeks now, it was always a painful reminder of what was happening to Sam. Today he wasn’t sure he could stand to see the wreck without falling apart, and he wasn’t allowed to fall apart until Sam was better. That had always been his rule when Sam was hurt or sick, and he clung to it now like a lifeline. Turning toward the back of the property instead, he started walking, already feeling better despite himself.

He had just reached the edge of the junkyard when his phone rang.

Dean stared at the caller ID in disbelief for a moment before answering. His dad was calling him, after weeks of radio silence. After abandoning Sam to die. He felt his rage reignite, but he kept his tone neutral as he answered. "Dad."

"Dean. I told you to leave it alone."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it, Bobby. "This is Sam, Dad. Not some random civilian. How can you just let him die like he means nothing? Where the hell are you?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you." Dean listened to his dad's sigh and rolled his eyes. The man could be a worse drama queen than Sam sometimes.

"Really? That's the answer you're going with?" Dean shook his head in disgust. "Guess Sam was right after all. You really don't give two shits about this family. It's all about your damn revenge."

"That's not fair, Dean." His tone was biting, cold. "Sam chose not to end this fight when he had the chance, and now I have to before the demon hurts anyone else."

Dean scoffed. He could hardly believe they were related. “Is that what this is about? Punishing me for telling Sam not to kill you? Or punishing him for listening?”

There was silence over the line for a long minute before John said, “That’s not why I left, Dean.” More silence. "I might have a lead on the grimoire you need. See you at Bobby's in two days." The phone beeped as John hung up without saying goodbye.

When he collapsed, sobbing, against a rusted-out Honda a minute later, he wasn’t even sure if they were tears of joy or grief.

The lights flickered.

"Heya, Sammy," Dean said, settling into the seat by his brother. "Think I might have something promising, and Dad's helping."

Nothing. He glanced around the room.

"Come on, man, don't be a bitch about it. I know you can hear me."

A cool breeze ruffled his hair.

"Because your lights flicker a thousand times whenever I talk to you. Which, by the way, cut it out. One of these days you're going to short out something important and croak. Also, because it's July and ten degrees colder in your room than the morgue. I feel bad for your nurses."

A gentle thump on his shoulder. Son of a bitch. Sam wasn't supposed to be able to touch him. Dean watched his brother's body on the bed and thought about just how much stronger he'd become over the last few weeks. It was a bad sign. He hadn't told Bobby or his dad about the fact that Sam was apparently haunting his hospital room. He already knew what they would say.

What's dead should stay dead.

"You aren't dead yet. And I'm not giving up on you." He stood and stormed out of the room before Sam could get another word in.

John got out of his truck, but didn’t approach the house. Dean and Bobby were waiting for him on the porch, and Bobby had brought his shotgun out. It was easy to read the tension in Dean's shoulders, the anger simmering just under the surface. Christ, Dean had no idea how bad it was going to get, and he was already this mad. John was going to lose both of his sons today.

The spell he’d faked was in his pocket, and he hated himself for what he was doing. But he was careful not to let his face betray him. Years of hustling poker successfully had taught him that his poker face was the best, and he relied on that skill now. Dean wasn't going to stop, that was clear now, so John had to be the one to make the hard choice.

For one dizzy, terrifying moment, he considered backing out and trying to help them find the grimoire. Then he thought of the demon, still out there and still planning. A demon that wanted to start the Apocalypse and use his son to lead an army of darkness. He didn't know how the demon intended to make Sam cooperate, but it didn't matter. He trusted that the demon would succeed eventually, probably by threatening Dean. There was only one sure way to save Sam from that fate, and this was it. His resolve hardened, and he resigned himself to Dean hating him forever. Knowing Sam was safe would be worth it. Maybe someday Dean would understand, even if John knew Dean would never be able to forgive him for this.

"Dean," he said, voice gruff. He nodded at Bobby, but kept his eyes on his son.

"Where have you been?" Dean demanded, his voice hard. He sounded grown up. Good.

John put an easy smile on his face, trying to diffuse some of the tension in the air, but it didn't reach his eyes. He knew Dean saw that, too, so he let it drop after a moment. "I was following some leads."

"You were hunting the demon. While Sam is laying in a hospital, dying."

"We've had this argument already."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "So? He's still dying, you're still hunting, and I'm still here, trying to put my family back together! At least tell me what this mysterious lead is."

John steeled himself, and reached into his back pocket. "It's not the whole grimoire, but I was told this came from The Magus. Sounds like something you might be interested in."

Dean eyed him warily, and John couldn't blame him. He'd flipped on this issue fast, and that had to have raised some alarm bells for Dean. It was no surprise Dean didn't trust him. Still, the boy was desperate. He accepted the fragile parchment, unfolding it and scanning the text. Dean couldn't read it, unless he had been studying archaic Greek lately, but John knew Dean would be able to piece together a basic idea of the spell just from the components. It was something he'd drilled them on, to help protect them from witches.

Dean nodded to Bobby, and down went the shotgun barrel. John breathed a little easier at that. He never doubted that Bobby was willing to shoot him, especially after how they’d parted a few years back. With what he was about to pull, he probably deserved it, too.

"Come in, then, if you're staying," Bobby said, turning and walking back inside.

Dean raised his eyebrows in question, then joined Bobby.

John lingered by his truck a moment more before following, grief already pooling in his chest.

Bobby translated the spell while Dean sorted through their inventory of ingredients. More than once the old hunter added a location to the ingredient he read aloud, and Dean would make a run to the kitchen or the basement or the second guest bedroom, in the bottom box next to the dresser, wherever the item happened to be stashed in this old, cluttered house. John had grabbed a beer and puttered around for a few minutes, obviously uncomfortable, before saying he was going to the hospital and would meet them there.

It felt like a miracle that they already had all the ingredients, and Dean said so after he retrieved the salamander tail and Bobby declared it the last ingredient. It was a surprisingly benign looking assortment of items, and it didn't seem possible to Dean that they could heal his brother. He believed in magic, obviously, but he always associated it with blood and entrails. It seemed, well, magical that a few bits and pieces in the right ratios could do something so powerful. It was weirder that his dad had brought him the spell. He'd been so adamant about letting nature take its course, and Dean wondered what had brought him around. A thought crossed his mind, and his skin crawled. He idly touched the top of one of the jars and said tentatively, "Does this seem too easy to you?"

Bobby looked up from the spell in front of him, eyes narrowed at Dean. "What are you thinking?"

Dean gave one quick shake of his head as he frowned, saying, "Nothing. Just." He shrugged a shoulder and looked out the window. "It's just like Dad to swoop in at the last minute and save the day. But. It's a weird way for him to do it, you know?"

Bobby nodded. "I never expected your daddy to be the one bringing spells here for us to cast, if that's what you mean."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Does it check out?"

Hesitating before he spoke, Bobby hemmed and hawed before saying, "I don't know. I've never seen a spell like this, and I've sure as hell never cast one. I can tell you that it looks like it ought to work, if I understand it right, but there's no way to know for sure without trying it."

"That just fills me with confidence, Bobby."

"Hey, you asked. You have a better option?"

Dean grunted. "You know I don't."

"I know you've got something in reserve, just in case." Bobby leveled him a look that told Dean he wasn't going to be able to hide behind denials.

Dean swallowed hard. "I do, but it's not a better option."

Bobby nodded, slowly, but didn't say anything.

Dean cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I can make it work without killing someone."

The tension in the air was palpable, and Bobby's eyes were hard. "I know he's your brother, Dean, but—"

"I know. God, Bobby, I know." He scrubbed a hand down his face and closed his eyes. "I would though. If it came to it, then I would."

"But?"

Dean shook his head, not willing to say that he promised his brother's ghost that he wouldn't. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to let Sam go if this spell didn't work, and he wasn't sure he had the time it would take to pull the other spell together.

When Dean and Bobby arrived at the hospital, John was sitting in the chair by Sam's bed. Dean frowned, noting the overgrown stubble on Sam's chin. They hadn't been by to shave him yet, which meant it was more likely they were going to get interrupted. At best, that would lead to a number of awkward questions, and at worst it could disrupt the spell. He mentioned it, but John scoffed.

"It'll be fine, Dean. The nurse was just in to check on him, and she said she would be back in an hour. No interruptions until then."

Dean frowned but didn't argue. If John thought they were safe to do the spell then they probably were.

Bobby was the most experienced of them with spell work, so he did the spell. Dean watched him like a hawk, stomach flipping nervously the whole time. John's face was grim, but he stayed silent, letting Bobby work. The foreign words droned on, and Bobby added a pinch of this, a jar of that, then more chanting. Dean could feel the energy in the room building, and his eyes darted to Sam. The monitors showed no change, of course, but the lights flickered aggressively as the chanting picked up speed. Dean silently begged Sam to cool it, to keep calm until the spell did its thing.

It's not going to work, Dean.

Dean set his jaw. It had to work. Not working wasn't an option.

Please, let me go.

He glared at his brother. That wasn't an option either, not while Dean was still breathing. He wasn't going to fail Sam. Not when Sam had come through for him last year.

His brother sighed, and he could imagine the epic eye roll that accompanied it. You're going to be so pissed at Dad when this doesn't work.

Dean's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at his brother again. The air was cooling rapidly, not a great sign for Sam's mental health at the moment. But his dad and Bobby seemed oblivious, and with the way the energy swirled through the air, he knew the spell was almost done.

Bobby threw in the last ingredient, and there was a flash, a bang, and the building energy funneled into the center of the room before quietly dissipating. It was...underwhelming.

Dean looked at Sam, at the monitors and held his breath, waiting for any sign at all that he was waking up. There was nothing. If anything, Dean thought the vitals readout was worse than before. Sam was breathing too fast, heartbeat too rapid for someone peacefully asleep.

He turned on the other two in the room. "Why didn't it work? We had all the ingredients, right, Bobby?"

Bobby looked stricken, but he nodded. "I read it exactly as it was written. You know I wouldn't half-ass this."

Dean clamped down on his anger as best he could. He did know. Sometimes spells just didn't work. Maybe Bobby wasn't powerful enough. Maybe they needed a real witch to cast the spell.

Then John said, "You knew this was a long shot at best," and Dean gaped at him.

He understood, on some level, that this was John trying to be supportive. His dad had never been an emotional guy, never one to soothe with words. But this felt like he was writing Sam off all over again. Sam was dying, actively now, and John just...didn't care. Dean didn't understand and didn't want to understand. He wanted his dad to be devastated by this.

Where did you get that spell anyway? It sounded like someone cobbled a bunch of random garbage together and called it finished. The tenses didn't even match through most of it.

That's when Dean put it together.

"You did this, didn't you?" he said, voice frigid and too calm. "You did something to the spell. That's why you didn't bring the book. Not some bullshit about it being too closely guarded in a library or not wanting to set off some crap alarms. You've never had a problem breaking and entering before." Dean shook his head furiously. "I didn't see it before. I didn't want to. But Sam was always right, wasn't he? He never mattered as much to you as the hunt. As getting revenge for Mom. And now you killed him." Dean closed his eyes, unable to even look at John anymore. "Why? Because he didn't take the shot in that cabin?"

When John finally spoke, his voice was brittle. "I know you won't be able to hear this now, Dean, but it was never like that. Someday, I hope you'll understand. This was for the best."

"Get out," Dean said, watching Sam's chest shallowly rise with each breath. He hoped John could hear the threat under the words.

An hour later, Dean watched as Sam struggled to breathe. There was no more time to pull together that spell. John had been thorough. Bobby had gone home, looking for the binding spell at Dean's desperate request, but it was gone from Dean's research pile. Worse, he'd signed the papers to remove Sam from life support before they'd even done the stupid spell. According to the hospital, that meant Dean could do exactly nothing, despite the fact that John hadn't shown his face in the hospital for weeks and Dean had been visiting Sam daily. He felt hollow, wondering what life would be like without his brother at his side. He thought it might be like when Sam was at Stanford: hunting alone or with the occasional hunter acquaintance. He resolutely ignored the burning in his eyes, even as Sam's body blurred in front of him. It wasn't going to be like that. Maybe once in a while he would be able to forget, to fool himself into believing Sam was alive and safe and just away, but most of the time he would know. He imagined the passenger seat of the Impala, empty again. His heart clenched.

Sam was already gone, and he knew that. The body on the bed had been empty since the first time he'd seen the lights in this room flicker. Sam had been haunting him for weeks. They were just waiting for it to be official.

The monitor screeched, jerking Dean's attention up and away from Sam. His breath caught in his throat; Sam was flat-lining. A doctor that had been lurking outside the door quietly came in and turned off the alarm. She checked Sam's vitals manually, checked the time, and announced that Sam had died at 2:48 pm. It was quiet, efficient. Dean didn't understand how she could do that, just say a person—Sam—was dead, and then continue on with her day like the world hadn't ended.

Dean refused Bobby's offer to help build the pyre. This was his job. And if it took a little longer because he was working alone, so much the better. He lifted the body wrapped in white linen. His brother. He lifted his brother, and placed him on the pyre.

Hours later, Dean stared at the burning pyre, numb to all feeling. He'd failed. The hollow pit in his stomach threatened to turn to nausea as he watched Sam burn. The gentle thump against his arm that alerted him to Sam's continued ghostly presence just made the sick feeling grow. John was going to pay for this.

#spn fic #spncanonbigbang #gen #canon divergent #cw character death #hurt!sam #ghost!sam #fic i wrote

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deansmyapplepie · 4 years

Text

Unexpected - Part 2

Pairing: none

Tags: violence, blood, helpless!reader

Word Count: 2,055

A/N: it took me a lot longer to get the second part to this written, but here it is!

Unexpected - Part 1

(Gif not mine)

Admiring your handiwork triumphantly, you slid the newly-installed chain to your front door shut. It wasn't a burglar alarm, that was for sure, but it did make you feel a bit more at ease, which was really all you could hope for. The ideal solution would have been to install a security system, but you just didn't have that kind of money. It had been just under a week since the break-in, and unfortunately, your anxious mindset hadn't improved much. If anything, it kept getting worse every time you relived your conversation with Sam and Dean. Monsters. Demons. There was no way. If those two men really thought all that crap was real, there was something seriously wrong with them. Sighing, you plopped down on your living room couch. Why couldn't you get these boys out of your head? You would give anything to forget the whole ordeal. Still... the sincerity of their explanation left you wondering if what they said was true. You shook your head vigorously, scolding yourself. All of your life, you had never been the type to believe in that sort of thing. Why on earth would you start now? Just because two maniacs started spouting it off to scare you? No way.

When your front door's doorknob began to turn, you practically leaped off the couch. Oh God, it was them. Sam and Dean. You knew too much, and now they were back to finish the job. Your heart rate skyrocketed as your door opened, but it was caught by the chain, and someone rammed straight into it.

"Ow! What the hell? Y/N?" You recognized the voice right away and scrambled over to peek through the small crack.

"Jamie?" Sure enough, standing on your front porch in the darkness was your best friend. The two of you had known each other for as long as you could remember, and you were about as close as friends could get. Shutting the door, you unlatched the chain to let him in. "I didn't know you were coming over tonight." Jamie held up his phone to show you his outgoing call log.

"Well, maybe if you had answered my calls..." He let the open-ended statement hang in the air, watching as you locked and chained the door behind him. He sighed and gestured to the new hardware. "You put that up today?" You nodded.

"Literally just finished, actually." Jamie gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder with a smile. He had been the first person you called after you kicked crazies one and two out of your home, and he knew how much it had rattled you. He flopped onto your couch with levels of drama that only he could achieve.

"Remind me again: why didn't you just call the cops?" You rolled your eyes as you opened your mouth to speak, but realized you didn't have a good answer. "Those wackjobs could be in a cell right now instead of running free. I swear, Y/N, you're too nice for your own good." You really should've called the cops. Hell, maybe it still wasn't a bad idea to file a report.

"I don't know," you answered lamely. What good would it do now? If those two lunatics had any brains at all, they would have skipped town already. Shaking your head, you padded into your kitchen. "I was just about to put a frozen pizza in the oven or something. You staying?"

"Yeah, I think so," you heard him call from the living room. Jamie's visits usually stretched late into the night, and you were more than happy to have the company. Although you had done your best to secure your home, being here alone made you nervous. Door chains weren't 100% intruder-proof, and you knew that, but you were trying not to think about it.

"Hey, I'm gonna grab a beer, do you-" When you reemerged from the fridge with two beers in hand, you noticed how close Jamie was standing, and the odd expression on his face as he stared at you. "Jesus!" you exclaimed. "You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were on the couch."

"I think I will take that beer." He took the glass bottle from your hand with a smile that, for some reason, made your skin crawl. It didn't quite meet his eyes, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. You opened the freezer door to get a pizza, feeling a bit more on edge than usual, which was saying something, considering all you had been through in the past week.

"How was work?" you tossed the question over your shoulder even though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer. Jamie worked a corporate desk job, which meant that every day was usually the same for him.

As you leaned in to see what your freezer had to offer something whizzed by your ear, shattering on the cabinets behind you into a million pieces. Glass shards tinkled to the ground, and the smell of beer filled the air. Whirling around in alarm, you realized that Jamie was no longer holding his beer bottle, but that he had thrown it at you. Had you not put your head in the freezer when you did... you really didn't want to think about what could have happened.

"What the hell, Jamie?" you snapped. "What is wrong with you? You could have killed me!" For the first time in your life, you were afraid of him. Your gut was right - something was horribly wrong. It was almost like... When the word entered your mind, you felt a panic bubble up in his throat. Possessed. Instantly, the faces of the two crazy men from the break-in came into your thoughts, and you swallowed hard. "Jamie?" His name left your mouth cautiously as you peered up at him, trying to make any sense of this. Jamie blinked, and his eyes turned to pure black as a malicious smile spread across his face.

"Sorry," he replied. "No." Holy fuck. When Jamie - or whatever the hell this thing was - lunged at you, you screamed. Loudly. Hopefully, one of the neighbors heard you; otherwise, you were toast. And not the good kind. Somehow, you managed to duck under his arm and make a break for the door. Had you not been overcome by terror, you would have appreciated the irony of it all. The very chain you had just installed to keep intruders out now kept you inside, where your life very well may depend on you getting out.

Just before you could reach the door, you were pushed down from behind, knocking the wind out of you as your attacker pulled you back by your ankles. You were screaming bloody murder when he turned you onto your back, slamming you down hard enough to rattle the floorboards.

"Jamie can't come to the phone right now." Hearing Jamie's voice say these things was maybe the most jarring thing about the whole situation. Scratch that, the most jarring thing was definitely the fact that you might die. You were totally trapped. The weight of Jamie's body pinned you down, and your hands were restrained on either side of your head. The chances that someone was coming to help you were very slim, and you could feel that you were running out of time.

"You're a demon," you guessed, hoping you could stall until something about your dire situation changed. Jamie's features lifted a bit in surprise.

"My, my. Not as clueless as we look, are we?"

"I sure as hell knew better than to think you were Jamie, you son of a bitch." The demon growled angrily, and you knew right away that you had made a mistake. Grabbing you roughly by the shoulders, he pulled you up before slamming you back down again. This time, your head made contact, and you saw stars. The demon's eyes glinted maliciously.

"See, that's where you're wrong," he hissed. "You thought I was your Jamie when I first came in." Before you could respond, the demon struck you across the face hard, causing you to let out a cry. "He has so many fond memories of you in here," he informed you, tapping his temple. "I wonder how difficult it would be to break him. Surely, killing you would be a good start, don't you think?" When his fist came at your face, you barely had time to recover before he came at you again, striking blow after blow. By the time he was finished, blood and tears mingled on your swollen face, and your mind lingered somewhere in the purgatory between consciousness and unconsciousness.

"Hm. I expected you to put up quite the fight. What a pity." As the demon raised Jamie's fist to hit you again, your front door flew open with a bang, and the chunk of the wall where you had screwed in the door chain's anchor went flying. So much for increased security.

"Get off of her!" The gruff voice sounded familiar, but you couldn't quite place it in this state. Heavy footsteps pounded on the floor toward you, and suddenly the weight holding you down was gone as you lost consciousness.

"You're okay, I got you." Someone lifted you into a sitting position, helping you come back to your senses. Head pounding, you blinked a few times, still feeling a bit woozy. "You really got the worst of that," the familiar voice continued. That was for damn certain. You felt like you had been run over by a truck. "You with me?" The familiar face in front of you finally registered, and you smiled weakly.

"You were definitely right about demons." Relief eased Sam's serious expression, and he rocked back onto his heels, crouched in front of you. You never thought you would be thinking this, but damn, it was good to see him. Now that you knew he wasn't, in fact, a home invader, it was good to know that you were in the hands of someone who knew what the hell was going on. If demons were actually real, that meant everything else was, too. "This is insane," you breathed.

"Insane is kinda what we do," Sam admitted. Another round of head pounding hit you, and you groaned in pain.

"Yeah, you're gonna want to put some ice on that," Dean said wryly. As you stood, you took a look around your living room, which was still surprisingly intact. "Not every day you get your ass kicked like that." You shook your head.

"Jamie didn't-"As soon as you said his name, your eyes went wide, and your heart dropped into your stomach. "Jamie! Is he all right? Where is he?" Sam gestured to the couch, and you scrambled to your feet, rushing to Jamie's unconscious form. His eyes moved behind closed lids as you brushed the hair from his face, and took his hand.

"He should be fine now," Sam reassured. "He probably won't remember much, and he'll be confused when he wakes up." Fear lingered in the pit of your stomach as you were reminded of how the pair of pitch-black eyes gleamed back at you. You swallowed hard.

"And is the demon still..?" Dean shook his head at your open-ended question.

"No, we exorcised it. But that doesn't mean it's gone. It could have gone after anyone in this town that was unprotected." You weren't entirely sure what that meant, but you had a sneaking suspicion that neither you nor Jamie was safe. "Does that mean you're sticking around for a while?" you asked hopefully. Dean gave a nonchalant shrug in response.

"Probably." Jamie groaned from the couch as he began to stir, and you turned your attention back to him.

"We should probably get out of here," Sam recommended to his brother. "Before he wakes up."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "See you around, Y/N." As the two tall men headed for the front door, you looked up at them.

"Thank you. Seriously." And then they were gone as quickly as they came.

"Y/N?" Jamie stared up at you, blearily from the couch. "What the hell happened?" With a heavy sigh, you gave his arm a reassuring pat.

"Jamie, I have one hell of a story for you."

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mittensmorgul · 4 years

Text

Plastic fantastic

I've put off doing this long enough, and spent the intervening days reading everyone else's interpretations, so there's gonna be a lot in here, but also a lot that I've probably not focused on too heavily because other folks have already said the things better than I could've. So this is just a recap of the things I personally feel are most significant and thematically cool going forward. It's... a lot... :'D

15.04 was infused with an element of surreality. Which I ended up referring to throughout this post as “plastic.” Hence the title. But this got super long, so here have a cut. :’D

Right from the THEN segment, we're reminded of Cas. Rowena's sacrifice, Cas's own suffering at Chuck's hands, and how this has affected Sam and Dean-- Sam miserable for having done what they had to do (right?) in sacrificing Rowena, and Dean PISSED but feeling like this was the only way to free them from what he sees as Chuck being a "fanboy" of them. It shifts directly into BECKY, who was described previously as a "fangirl" and involved in a supremely unhealthy relationship with both Chuck AND Sam (even if it was completely one-sided and creepy with Sam). And then shifts to Chuck being told-off by Amara in 15.02, in essentially a recap of all the best insults and condemnations she could fling at him... because he deserved it honestly, I mean HE LOCKED HER AWAY FROM THE DAWN OF CREATION TO SUFFER ALONE WHILE HE DID HIS THING TO MAKE HIMSELF FEEL BIG.

Okay, sorry, I just really hate that guy and his hypocrisy sometimes (read: all the time).

Right. Where were we. At the beginning.

Gunfight in the bunker, with the Danger Lights activated. I've been waiting for this scene since we got BTS photos of Jensen all battered and ragged with the beard. This... isn't real. It's not SPN universe real anyway. Since the SPPT promo came out, I have been eager to see this episode just for this scene. I guessed it was a vision Sam was having/receiving because of the Equalizer Wound, the beginning of his glimpses into "Chuck's writing process." Is this an AU that Chuck actively created? Is it just the sort of thing Chuck daydreams about? Or in the style of Supernatural episodes past, is this some sort of window into the ending Chuck wants/intends to write for them, which obviously would be something they absolutely could not let stand?

Like Dean’s nightmare he awoke from in 10.09 where he saw himself slaughtering a room full of people at the beginning of the episode, which became reality by the end of the episode? Is Chuck’s horrific ending that Becky hated what we actually saw play out in Sam’s nightmare? The show has invited us to consider that as at least a possibility. Or, to at least assume Chuck’s horrifying ending was at least that awful.

There's so much in this scene that doesn't match up with what any of us might imagine Sam would even consider a nightmare of his own mind's creation, you know? And yet it's SAM who is plagued by these incongruous nightmares that don't even really connect up with things that are relevant to the things currently on his mind, you know? After recent events, one would think the things that would plague Sam's nightmares would be the loss of Jack, or his role in Rowena's apparent death and his guilt/depression over it, or even the fight against the ghostpocalypse and the people who lost their lives as a result of that. Instead, he's having "nightmares" about having gone full Boy King of Hell demon blood addict, which hasn't been a pressing personal fear of his for more than a decade. He's even talked specifically about how he's made his peace with that entire time in his life, such as his talk with Magda in 12.04. NOT coincidentally also written by Davy Perez.

That's because... this is NOT Sam's "nightmare." Why would Sam "dream" about Dean's regular gun having the power to spark out demons? Why would he "dream" about BENNY being a human (and alive!) ally of Dean's that Sam had sent his own army of demons to destroy? Why would Sam dream that his demonic-self would hunt down and kill his loved ones (Bobby! Jody! and nobody else mentioned! as if this was some weird time-travelling situation combined with Benny's human presence!), and then in the end hunt down and murder Dean in cold blood? This wasn't Sam-As-Lucifer (though I believe we will be seeing that particular nightmare in next week's episode), but SAM. HIMSELF. Turned into the demon he always feared he was "destined" to become before they learned how to tear up the story and make their own choices about their destiny.

The problem now is that they actually believe that Chuck has gone, and they're on their own now. Sam believes that this must be his own nightmare, and therefore he's just stuck with it, as his own mind and memories and fears come back to torment him. He's lost his power to fight against it, like Dean's lost his power to fight against his current experience. It's as if the only power Chuck retains over them is in the fact that they BELIEVE he's gone, you know? Magic's power is in the belief of the caster, Rowena has recently reminded us with her own life. And I think that's exactly what's leaving Sam and Dean so completely vulnerable to manipulation by Chuck, in ways they've never before been vulnerable to it. Because they've both staked their entire futures on the fact that they so firmly believe they're free of Chuck's story.

Sam is just... so confused by this nightmare, he can't even make sense of it at all. And the sleep deprivation isn't probably helping.

I think we've all covered the Meat Man conversation already, as well as all the Dean vs Food stuff, so I'll only add that commentary in here if I think of something I haven't already said on the subject.

Dean calls out Sam's assertion that he's fine, directly telling him "No, you're not," and expressing his understanding of what he's going through.

And here come the cheerleaders. And doesn't this (as I believe many of us have already said over the last two weeks) just smack of Sam's "fake case" Gadreel had him trapped researching inside his own mind in 9,10? Crowley had to convince Sam that what he was trapped inside wasn't real, that he was possessed by an angel who was forcing him to experience these things. And obviously the God Wound isn't direct possession, and I don't doubt that this is a real case, but how much of this case might have been "arranged" by Chuck, or how much of Sam's perception right now may be clouded or colored because of the effects of that Wound?

Not only that, but Dean is also a participant in this entire odd case, and he doesn't even HAVE a wound connecting him directly to Chuck, you know? But his judgment seems to be equally clouded by something, as well... I'm gonna call it Intense Denial. Dean is basing his entire life right now on the presumption that Chuck has stopped interfering in their lives, when I think the exact opposite is true. I think Chuck is now focused on them more directly and more intensely than he ever has been before, and their obliviousness to that fact is only strengthening his hold on them, and amplifying his power over them.

But back to the current point in the episode:

Sam interviews the vice principal of the school, and the girl who was killed was in the drama club, debate team, cheerleading, campus ministry, you name it. That's... an awful lot of potential friends, so Sam asks about BEST friends, and we're directed to Veronica "and the girls." Veronica is singled out, which makes her speech to the empty room later even more interesting...

This episode relies on a lot of the elements of the case they're investigating to seem rather... plastic. And Veronica stood out as one of these elements. She could've just been "one of the girls," but she was identified specifically here, and it's like that designation itself somehow altered reality just a little bit. Heck I think I'm gonna need to put this line of thought on hold until we get to the speech scene. Remind me to come back to this.. >.>

The Whitmans interrupt (oh those crazy parents from 1.08, at it in a completely different role), seemingly uncaring of the dead girl and demanding their son's future not be ruined by postponing the lacrosse game. (OH THE IRONY) Sam rightly calls them out on framing it as "the end of the world" if he doesn't get into his first choice college. These parents have already been established to be Those Kinds of Parents who will do anything for precious little Billy to get whatever he wants in the world. They'd probaly strangle kittens on live TV if it would guarantee their son's future, you know? We haven't even seen the full extent of what they were willing to do for their son, and they already feel like cartoonish villain types.

I need to take another aside here to talk about the boy’s name. BILLY. Which, considering how we left things in 14.20, we’ve all been wondering about what Billie is up to in the Empty, right? This boy that will, by the end of this episode, become a literal stand-in for Jack on a cosmic scale? Is called Billy. Just... consider that.

I can already hear Becky critiquing Chuck's Monster of the Week here... and in turn parts of the fandom cynically saying that this is the complaint on MotW episodes forever-- that they're boring or unimportant or skippable because the monsters are predictable and boring, and just... NO. YOU HAVE OFFICIALLY MISSED THE POINT.

I think the general assumption is that the case we watch Sam and Dean solve is being directly affected by Chuck's simple act of typing it out. In exactly the same way we believed Metatron influenced the events of s9 by the simple act of typing it out. Could he control the thoughts of the people he wrote about? Not exactly. Could he manipulate the situation via the power of the angel tablet-- the direct word of God-- to influence the scenario and events in improbable ways? Yes, I absolutely think he can. And I'll continue discussing this as we go along.

But we return to Dean leaning against the car eating pretzels. I've already written about his constant eating and drinking in this episode, but PRETZELS?! That's a new one for Dean. It's usually jerky, or chips, or candy, or... all sorts of other things. Where did he even get the pretzels from?

He'd apparently been at the morgue examining the body, and found a vampire tooth. So this case that seemed NOTHING like a vampire case based on how the body was found, suddenly there's irrefutable evidence that it's a vampire instead. Almost as if the facts of the case have shifted somehow, rather improbably and inexplicably. Just as inexplicably as Dean finding the beaver mascot riding a scooter "awesome."

The second girl to be abducted calls out Veronica as being "so fake" in her grief over Susie's death. And yet, improbably, after a long cheer practice, she's the only one alone in the school parking lot late at night. Where's the rest of the cheer team? The coach? Anyone? How was she there all alone? Yet she was, because the case needed her to be.

It's plastic.

Like the little square of crime scene tape left unattended in the woods. Weird, right? That after the scene was cleared and the original investigators left, it was still left there around an empty patch of dirt. And Sam and Dean... are just... standing there at the edge of the woods, boxed in by yellow crime scene tape and orange cones while they have their conversation about the fact the police have no idea what could've done this, and Sam laments the fact that it's THEIR job. THEY deal with the truth and carry the weight, while everyone else gets to go back to their blissfully unaware lives.

Dean busts out the flask while the two of them stand there in their own personal crime scene box, like their lives are the crime here. They ARE the victims of a cosmic crime. And the corpse of what their lives could've been, of what Sam had always thought he'd want of his own life, to live in a little town like this and just be NORMAL, is what they'll find on the autopsy here. And Sam is just beginning to realize he can't identify with those sorts of people at all.

And then we jump right from Sam lamenting the lost white picket fence to Becky's house-- where the front railing is white pickets, where she's built a real life for herself. Yet even something about it seems... off... just a little bit. That older kid seems way older than 7, which I assume would be the oldest any of her kids could be based on when we last saw her in canon, before she began to recover from her obsession and begin building a true happy life for herself. Heck maybe I'm talking myself into a problem that doesn't exist, and he's supposed to be just a really big 6-year-old, but okay. Or maybe he's adopted, or the kid of her husband from a previous relationship. GAH This is so not relevant to anything, why can't I let it go... >.>

Regardless, she clearly loves her family, and is invested in her life with them. Her husband is a man who truly appreciates and loves her in return. I'm really happy for her. Her husband at one point says, "Where would I be without you," and she jokingly replies "Covered in puke." And it's the same sort of cute exchange we saw between Sam and Jess in the pilot, where he asked, "What would I do without you?" and she jokingly replied, "Crash and burn." And considering that Sam himself will mention Jessica at the end of the episode, it seems worth pointing out the thematic similarity they're trying to set up here.

I wonder how much Becky has told her husband about the reality of the Supernatural books she's built her business and hobbies around, or her own part in the events of the books? More than Sam ever told Jess about the reality of his life? At this point, I'm gonna be glad her husband didn't end up pinned to the ceiling on fire.

Becky waves goodbye to her family as they leave for a day of fun, and Chuck waves back at her. He's inserted himself into her life again, and it's freaking creepy.

Chuck says he "wanted" to see her, and corrects himself to "needed." And here we have the laying out of the classic “NEED VS WANT” conundrum we’ve been yelling about for literal years. Funny that Chuck has it all wrong himself, you know? Becky makes herself clear that she neither wants nor needs him. He's not welcome there at all, and yet he presses on, past her assertion that his problems aren't her problem. I've already written a little bit about what Chuck apparently wanted from Becky, and what he actually got from her, so I'll try not to repeat myself, but to say that Becky was far kinder to him than he deserved.

So we learn about the second cheerleader's kidnapping, Dean makes an uncharacteristically flippant comment in front of the Vice Principal (somebody has a fetish), and kinda... blinks in shock at himself before professionally affirming they'll look into it and turning and walking away. Like he can't quite believe he actually said that. Which is weird, right? Because this is the sort of thing Dean has made flippant and kinda gross comments on in the past, right? But even when he's made comments about which cheerleaders are legal (4.13), or suggestive comments about even college students, he's rarely done so this blatantly directly TO the school principal, you know? This was... odd... like everything is just slightly out of sync.

I'm fascinated by the tiny models of Supernatural things that Chuck is prodding at in Becky's house. The first thing we see is Lil Levi's gas station. The only time we have EVER seen this gas station was in 10.03, when Hannah and Cas stopped there for gas, and yet Becky has the Impala parked by the pump, and what looks like a yellow classic car of some sort on the other side, hidden by the pumps so it's impossible to really see it there.

(I swear I will replace these Mittens Quality Screencaps™ as soon as HotN properly caps the episode... apologies for the photos of my tv in the meantime)

It was Cas's pimpmobile we've actually seen at this location in canon. And this was the gas station where Cas was losing his grace, desperately trying to get to Dean in time to save him, and Hannah kept getting them lost. He calls her out over her feelings-- dangerous temptations-- clouding her judgment and getting in the way. They're attacked by Adina, and Crowley arrives just in time to save them both from her, stealing her grace and force-feeding it to Cas, enabling him to power up again and save Dean. Aah, callbacks! And I mean, it might just be a visual callback to the fact that Jensen also directed that episode (and that gas station was named after his nephew), but it's still a reference that brings an awful lot of baggage with it, regardless of what prompted its appearance in miniature in Becky's house. Not to mention, this reference happened LONG after Chuck had supposedly stopped writing about the Winchesters' lives. And yet... Becky seems to know this reference, which had nothing to do with Sam and Dean and everything to do with Cas.

The second model we see looks incredibly like (or at least should all be having us THINKING of) the Carver crypt from the first three episodes of s15. And that's... super creepy, right? What is this building? Why did Becky have a model of it at all? This happened DAYS ago in canon.

And the third is Singer Salvage yard, with the Impala parked out front. How long has it been since we've seen it? In an episode that opened on Sam's "nightmare" that involved him strung out on demon blood having just killed Bobby and Jody in Sioux Falls? Interesting that Chuck expressed fascination with that particular model in this episode, isn't it?

He asks if Becky is still obsessed with his work, and she corrects him. She's obsessed with HER work. She'd essentially dismissed Chuck as the creator of Supernatural, and relegated him to the role of Recorder Of Events, as a prophet. It wasn't actually HIS story. But what she's made of it, what she's made her life's work, IS HER OWN CREATION, based on the same reality she believed that Chuck had been nothing more than a conduit for. And OUCH for a guy like Chuck to not even get credit for any of it now, because of the lie he'd told to insert himself into his own creation. It's incredible to me. He wants nothing more than recognition as the creator, as the writer, and Becky's far more interested in her OWN stories about the same characters. She saw herself as more than Chuck’s equal as a writer, she saw herself as his superior. He just recorded, she CREATES. She dismissed everything Chuck was most interested in, and writes the characters all having achieved a measure of peace and happiness, the same as she has. And Chuck... hates it. :'D

Remember, this is the guy who invented monsters before he invented anything else. Leviathans were his first creation, even before the archangels. But they had a nasty habit of eating everything else he tried to create, so he grudgingly locked them in Purgatory, and moved on to the next thing. And he's had a lot of similar failures over the years... like the original hellhound that Lucifer stole away (and that Sam killed in 12.15). Seems like this has always been the story Chuck wanted to tell, because he's always only ever had his original drama with Amara as a source for his creation. He's... obsessed... with his version of events, no matter how many times he's confronted with reality, he weasels out of personal responsibility for everything. Like he does in this scene with Becky, letting her believe he's just a poor dude who wants to keep writing and lost his writing mojo because his prophet powers dried up.

This is probably the first Becky's heard Chuck had a sister, who Chuck only explains rejected him because she "sucks." And... Chuck... you're leaving out the horrific things you've done to her as an explanation of why she refused to help you. He's still hiding behind the “super cute” Chuck Facade. And nothing he says is an out and out lie, but it's entirely a manipulation, a complete reframing of the cosmic scale of what's happened into something he expects Becky to be able to offer him sympathy over. And she's just not having it. And again, good for her.

Chuck admitting that he's lost and hates himself at least engages Becky enough to try something to get him moving forward (again, still thinking he's just a guy who's lost everything). And tells him if writing makes him happy, then he should write.

Meanwhile Dean's incongruously eating a hot dog (WHERE IS HE GETTING ALL THIS FOOD?!) and interviewing a beaver. Sam questions why, and Dean's not only gotten information about the case (mascots have access to cheerleaders), but information about the kid inside the suit (he's a smart kid, got a full ride to IU). Dean's been unusually productive while chewing that hot dog, apparently. But he’s basically a caricature of himself during this case, like he’s trying to wear a suit he hasn’t worn in 15 years, and is finding it really ill-fitting. (it’s probably all the snacks he’s eating, honestly)

Veronica hands Billy a black wristband printed SUSIEFOREVER, which... is probably how Billy's feeling at the moment (hello, she was his girlfriend and he accidentally killed her... this is gonna haunt him forever). Veronica (who we've already been told by the latest girl to disappear is "so fake" in her grief over Susie's death) seems to be coming on to Billy, or at least making her interest in him known. And we DON'T know how all of this will resolve yet, but there's an awful lot going on in this scene. Did Veronica actually kill Susie? Is she the vampire and is that the reason for this OTT "so fake" grief on her part? Did Billy's "anything for my kid" mother who interrupts the scene actually kill her and Billy know something about it? Why is everyone acting so... weird?

Because we're back to the plasticity of this entire case again. What's actually killing cheerleaders? What's really going on here? If this entire case is Chuck's machination, because he wrote it down, and therefore subtly affected the situation, is that why everything seems just slightly off? Slightly malleable, as if Chuck is only working out the details of the case as he's writing it all down?

Billy leaves with his mom, and Veronica is left in a dimly lit gym filled with empty chairs and programs for the memorial service. She's practicing her speech to this huge empty room, speaking into a microphone. And as she talks, she edits her speech.

We've seen Chuck do this. in 4.18, he had Dean push the doorbell with determination, and then went back and edited it to read "with forceful determination." Just before the doorbell rang, and it was a forcefully determined Dean doing the ringing... So Veronica's self-edit here seems almost like a Chuck self-edit.

Remember how I mentioned way back toward the beginning of this mess how Sam asked the VP for a clarification on who Susie's "BEST" friends were, and Veronica was singled out among a group of her close friends? And now Veronica stands alone not only as the sole person in the room here talking to empty chairs, but as the one with apparent motive to kill Susie, who's been accused of expressing a lot of over-the-top melodramatic "so fake" grief. And... she edits her relationship with Susie on the fly:

Veronica: We are here to celebrate the life of my friend Susie. No. *clears throat* *takes a breath* We are here to celebrate the life of my best friend Susie. My best friend Susie who I miss like... *sigh* like she was a part of me. And in many ways she's still a part of me. She'll always be a part of all of us. Susie Martin was as rare as a ghost orchid and as unique as a snowflake. So beautiful inside and out. But as Robert Frost tells us, nothing gold can stay. And that's what Susie was. Pure gold.

And during this entire speech, to the empty room, the music in the background is ominous, looming, tense. The musical cue is telling us to doubt her performance here, with the high strings picking up the tension just as she comes to a close and Dean shows up with his slow clap. I mean, it was a pretty OTT speech, delivered with an intensity that literally does feel rehearsed. Stilted. Plastic. Everything in the case so far has pointed the arrow at her being the monster. The framing of the narrative would support it if it had been true, but the background of the entire case feels exactly as Becky has described it. What if THIS was the original ending to the case that Becky had voiced her complaints about, as if THIS is the story that Chuck would've written.

But that's such weaksauce. MotW episodes are nothing if not thematically consistent. Vampires are about revenge cases, and this case is a very specifically pointed bit of revenge, of Chuck against the Winchesters. They ruined the last story he tried to tell, and the fact this started out looking like something OTHER than a vampire case (possibly a ghoul, based on the parallel to 9.10, and a dismembered body), and then seemingly remolded itself INTO a vampire case halfway through... it feels like that first fang Dean found at the morgue was Chuck sinking his teeth into their lives.

And Veronica, no matter how the case had painted her to this point, was completely innocent. A bit plastic, because she's a victim of this reality bend as much as Sam and Dean are, because the real monster of this case is Chuck-- only Sam and Dean don't have any idea yet.

Dean calls her on her fake emotions, and they directly accuse her of killing her friend. And get the proof that she was innocent because she HAS BRACES, which she's apparently self-conscious about, but it proved she wasn't a vampire. *SIGH*

Plastic.

So Sam and Dean look for video evidence from surveillance cam footage, which the police had apparently already looked at and found nothing, but now they find a car driving past immediately after the second girl's abduction. Did the police not see it? Or is this another bit of plastic?

Meanwhile back at Billy's house, his parents refuse to even hear him say Susie's name, and suspicion immediately shifts to their entire family. Billy's father washes blood off his hands, and nobody seems to find this strange. Are they all monsters? Did one of them slip up? What the heckeroo is actually going on here? Whatever it is, it feels like they're all complicit, and Billy seems to be having reservations. Except they've also got the latest victim tied up and blindfolded in their storage room. So... they're definitely guilty of something. But we're only halfway through the episode at this point, so there's clearly more to the story.

Chuck tells Becky he can't see what Sam and Dean are doing anymore, as he conveniently scratches at his left shoulder where his wound connecting him to Sam is. Which is wild, right? Because what little we know about the Equalizer gun was that it fired INTENT. And that it affects the person shot and the shooter identically. So what was Sam's intent when he shot Chuck? Dean had just told Chuck to "Go to Hell," but Sam didn't say anything out loud when he shot Chuck. Was his intent "stop fucking with our lives" or more vaguely grief-filled "go to hell" or something more? Because whatever intention Sam shot at Chuck seems to have directly caused both Chuck's loss of power AND his inability to see directly into their lives now. And after having watched the Sam and Dean show for their entire lives, Chuck is PISSED about not being able to see what they're up to.

And I wonder, incidentally, if this will be the same factor that's causing problems for the Winchesters, too... that Sam may have inadvertently severed whatever protective force had made their lives as hunters as... implausibly unproblematic as they've always been, you know? I think we'll be seeing that develop more in the next episode, but we saw hints of it happening in this episode too (like with Dean's comment about the killer having a cheerleader fetish). But regardless, I think this is why Sam is suffering these grief-fueled nightmares, his inability to breathe, and his general current mental state. He’s suffering from the same intent he’d fired at Chuck. Only it hit Chuck with a case of writer’s block, while it hit Sam with something he’s been unable to truly define or explain. Yet.

Becky tells Chuck to write about the Winchesters if he loves their story so much, because that's what SHE does. Her stories don't have to be based in reality for her to enjoy them, but Chuck's only metaphorically a writer. He doesn't just want to make up tales, he wants to literally create reality. During Becky's entire pep talk, Chuck's holding a little figurine of Sam pointing a gun, and ain't that just on the nose? She plucks Sam out of Chuck’s hands and puts him back on the mantle (and I admit to at first thinking it was the Cas doll from 5.06, because Dean did the same thing with Cas, putting him up on the mantle like that), but Chuck still expresses doubt in his ability to actually write.

And here's where the most incongruous stuff in the entire episode begins happening-- the family dynamics of a killer family. It's still unclear who the monster is among them, but like Dean, we are leaning toward the father. The thing is, none of it's actually plausible. That's the beauty of this entire case. It's plastic.

How did this single kid out of this entire town get turned by a vampire, and his parents just... completely accepted what happened immediately without question? How did they KNOW what to do for their son in this circumstance? They went out and killed animals for their blood for him. Where did they learn to do this for him? And then how could they so casually just... kidnap a whole human being just to feed their son? Why not go back to feeding him animal blood like he'd done before? They didn't see anything wrong with any of this, either. DID THESE PEOPLE NOT HAVE QUESTIONS?!

And what of the vampire that made him? Did that vampire just... turn him and run? Did he give the kid a pamphlet explaining vampire life to him or something? It's just utterly baffling that this whole family just... incorporated this development into their lives as if it was all an entirely normal thing to accept about their kid. The dad KIDNAPPED A WHOLE ENTIRE HUMAN BEING for him on his own initiative, the mom was ready to shoot Sam and Dean for interfering in their plans. LIKE HOW IS ANY OF THIS NORMAL?!

And perhaps most bizarre of all, Sam and Dean didn't see anything wrong with it in reflection later that night. But I'll get to that when we get there. Heck this note-writing thing is really hard when I already know everything that's gonna happen. I have enough trouble staying on point without the benefit of foresight. :'D

So these parents are insistent that they're doing all of this, sacrificing all of this, just for him. And when he tells them he doesn't want them to, they just beg him to tell them what he wants from them. And he's just so frustrated because they aren't listening to him. Like they don't even care about him despite professing they're doing all of this so he can be happy. And he's just... profoundly not happy.

So the father, when Sam and Dean show up, still thinks they're going to ARREST him. Which is a weird thing for a suspected vampire to believe, and he's horrified when Dean pulls out a machete instead of handcuffs. This is a totally shocking development for him, and yet he STILL holds it together enough to bargain for his wife and son's lives. And the wife is profoundly confused by this, and our suspicions shift to her. But that's still... not quite right. She's prepared to literally shoot what she believes to be two FBI agents to save her son, again, as if all of this was entirely normal. As if this is what normal people are willing to do for their monster children.

I've already written a bunch about Becky's critique of Chuck's writing, and how poorly Chuck takes her notes. Chuck... is really out of touch with fanfic culture. Becky's reading this story as if it was fic, not reality. She kudos'ed and commented, and expected Chuck to just accept that and move on, because that's how fic culture works. But he demanded a beta read level critique, and Becky gave it. And he shouldn't have asked for it if he didn't actually want it.

And here comes the revenge that justifies the Vampire Plot. Chuck... is the vampire. he's the monster that doomed Billy for no reason. Who drove the parents to such extreme lengths to protect their child. Because that's how CHUCK saw what TFW had done to protect Jack. He saw it as just that outrageous and unfounded, even though it was in no way the same. We just witnessed Chuck's critique of TFW's actions in 14.20, and it was scathing, mocking, and vindictive.

Plastic.

But I also suspect that Becky wasn't reading ~this case~ exactly, because she complained that Sam and Dean were tied up (they were never once tied up in this episode), and she complained about the villain monologue being stale (Dean does most of the monologuing here, and it's Sam who figures out what's actually going on). Just one more bit of plastic.

But Chuck somehow managed (even if he couldn't see it) to put Jack's 14.20 realizations about himself into Billy's mouth. As if Chuck's story had already been written, and through some power of its own it was brought into reality via these previously innocent people. The story itself is more powerful than the author.

Like Jack, Billy has been trying to accept responsibility for his actions. He couldn't control himself, he didn't know it would happen, but he's dangerous and needs to be stopped. And Billy's speech isn't a "villain monologue," but a painful confession of everything he'd done. So what story was Becky reading?

Sam angrily judges the parents' actions, and Dean expresses his shock that the father would've just let him cut off his head to save his son. And is taken aback at the comment that he must not have kids, if he doesn't think he wouldn't have done the same for his own child.

And Dean's like... well, no I wouldn't have done the same for my own child. It's a super messed up situation that I'd really been trying not to think too hard about, thanks. It's been less than a week and here you go bringing up the worst day of our lives, so thanks for that... but they carry on. The mother says they just wanted him to have a normal life, and that's something Jack never would've had regardless because of what he was. But he had *a* life, with the Winchesters. If Jack had been a vampire, they wouldn't have gone out hunting and kidnapping teenage girls for him to eat, you know? But they were willing to raid heaven and shout down God for Jack. But context matters. And this hastily assembled vampire family ready to play revenge/victim for Chuck's story lacked all context. They were plastic.

It's Billy who ends up dictating how his parents are to handle everything, calm as can be. And his parents finally listen to him. And he sacrifices himself to the Winchesters. And they just... go along with it, take him out to the woods, and Dean kills the boy kneeling at his feet, accepting his fate as he's clearly crying, while Sam watches on. It's what Chuck had wanted in 14.20, and Dean had refused to give him. And now this entire situation has been Dean, manipulated into providing that demanded sacrifice, one way or another. And the most interesting bit of it? Chuck... couldn't even see it playing out. He missed the whole show that played out in Chuck Puppet Theater despite the fact. Like whatever he actually wrote was irrelevant, because his intent is somehow still connecting through to the Winchesters in pantomime.

And Sam and Dean's reactions to all of this are also just weirdly plastic.

I've already written about Chuck and Becky enough I think, but Chuck's moved on from "Writers lie," to "I can do anything, I'm a writer." With some of the worst villain monologue we've ever gotten, with "There, see, it's making you feel something! That's good, right?" While Becky is outraged and heartbroken over Chuck's ending. The only thing I need to say about whatever Chuck's planned ending is, is that if the series ends the way CHUCK wants it to, it'll go down as the biggest intentional betrayal of a fandom in the history of television. The show has stated to us in this episode that Chuck is the final boss big bad, and that he cannot be allowed to win. He can't have the final word in this story.

In *our* world, the current writers have officially called out a good number of sins of their past and exposed them via Chuck. They wrote the Leviathans being a personal favorite of Chuck's despite being pretty universally hated by fandom... well... they're looking for redemption for themselves in s15. THEY can't allow the story to end horribly. They've staked their current writing cred on it, as well as the entire history of 15 years of building TFW into the heroes. Sure, they've joked that not all fans will be happy with the ending, but in serious comments they've also promised a "real" ending and not some advanced level deus ex machina that wipes everything clean, either. That's a lot to deliver, and Chuck's suggested ending of the Winchesters horrifically dead doesn't deliver any of it.

So... back to the denouement of the episode. To the Impala! The least plastic thing in the entire episode. But it's pretty plastic.

Sam suggests that what Henry did for his son, was something they would've done for Jack, given the chance. And no, he's not talking about kidnapping teenage girls to feed him, he's talking about offering himself as a sacrifice in his son's place. Because Dean literally did do that. He was willing to sacrifice himself to kill Jack before he could kill again. It's what Chuck had presented as the ONLY way to stop Jack from destroying the world, with the examples of Jack having accidentally killed Mary, and then the whole of society crumbling because Jack told everyone to stop lying. But Sam? He wasn't willing to sacrifice both of them. And then he learned the truth from Chuck, about the manipulations that forced them all to this point, how Chuck probably did have the power to make everything right, restore Jack's soul, everything... but he didn't want to because it was more entertaining for him to watch them act out his plots instead. He WANTED that drama, that horrible sacrifice. He ENJOYED it.

But given the choice, I think Sam and Dean both would've traded places with Jack. We actually *saw* Cas literally exchange himself for Jack in 14.08. But Chuck wasn't satisfied with that trade. He wanted more from them, and they decided they were done playing on his stage.

There's a bit of incongruity in the speech Dean gives Sam about his current state, as well. He's usually so much better at reading Sam, yet he's comparing Sam's current mental state to his own back in the crypt, after Chuck. And just... no? This is not it at all? When he told Sam he's felt like cashing in, *we* think of 13.05, where he literally DID think of cashing in, you know? That feels far more similar to how Sam's feeling right now than to Dean's ANGER and "we need a plan!" bossiness from the crypt after Chuck. It's jarring as a comparison, because IT'S THE WRONG THING ENTIRELY.

But it's wrong, because it's the glaring omission of Cas that's already been lampshaded in the episode. That Dean's current blind spot here is shining a violently bright light on what SHOULD be said. Just like the end of 13.05 when we all yelled "HELLO, DEAN" at the television when Cas didn't say the line to him. We've been talking FOR YEARS about how this show uses narrative negative space like this, how it expects us to shout HEY WHAT ABOUT CAS?! at the screen, or to see that even this driving scene in the dark, in the car, is a perfect inverse mirror of that scene in 13.05, where Sam had spent that entire episode feeding his favorite junk food that he criticized Dean for in this episode, Dean and dragging him out on a case in the hopes of making him feel like himself again and... that's what Dean's telling Sam he wanted to work this case for now, to show Sam exactly what Sam had tried (and failed spectacularly) to show Dean in 13.05.

Dean even quotes some of Cas's last words to him before he left, that he should "move on."

But they needed to walk around the giant Cas-shaped hole in the narrative. And they needed to do it this incongruously. And that's exactly why it works.

And it's why Sam CAN'T move on. He doesn't feel free. I've already written a bit about this, and how it's directly tied to Sam's wound, and what it's probably doing to him. And what IS it doing to him? Chuck wobbles his head side to side, and the Sam and Dean bobbleheads on the desk beside him follow suit.

#spn 15.04 #spn s15 spoilers #i have no idea how long this is but it's so many long #the scheherazade of supernatural #this is The Author actively preventing shahryar from listening to the final story #we are all shahryar

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bamby0304 · 5 years

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Her Saviours- Ch.23

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Angst.

Bamby

“You were getting a little possessive back there,” Dean noted as he followed the directions Harley had given.

“So?”

He looked over at you quickly before returning his eyes to the road. “It was hot.” His lips pulled into a grin. “You don’t usually get like that.”

“Maybe I just got sick and tired of having to compete for your attention.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened at the same time as his jaw did. Dean wasn’t used to you speaking your mind, but you felt a little bold. With your choices and control slipping from your grasp more and more each day, you were beginning to feel a little defiant.

“I’ve been having to compete for your attention since we met,” he mumbled.

Your jaw dropped. “You have got to be kidding me. Who the hell have you had to compete with?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He gave a harsh shrug. “Just my own dad and brother.”

“That was not my fault!”

“You slept with them!”

“You never had a problem with it before!”

“Maybe I did and I just didn’t say anything?!”

“Or maybe you’re just feeling insecure because for the last few years I’ve pretty much just been yours, and then you decided to bring Sam back into the fold. Even after all that time Sam and I started getting closer again, and that scared you because you don’t know how much longer I’ll stick around and deal with this bullshit.”

“Bullshit?”

“Yeah.” Your crossed your arms over your chest. “Bullshit.”

He gave a harsh scoff, “Sweetheart, I’m not worried about Sammy. I’ve got nothing to worry about. If you two were getting so close then you’d be walking on the side of the road with him right now. You chose me.”

“I chose myself, Dean. I didn’t want to follow him on his revenge mission. I didn’t want him to drag me back to your father, because I knew that there wouldn’t be some sweet reunion. John is after Mary’s killer. He’s after his Omega’s killer. He’s too distracted for me right now.”

Falling silent, Dean chewed on his lip for a moment before speaking again, much calmer and less cocky than before, “Dad loves you.”

“He loves me like family, sure. He doesn’t love me like I need,” you countered. When Dean didn’t respond, you added, “When we eventually find him, what do you think his decision will be when it comes to my claim?”

Pausing a moment, he genuinely thought it over. “I think he’s gonna want to mark you himself. Maybe he’ll let me mark you, too. But he’s Pack Alpha.”

Was that really a good enough reason? Did you want to be claimed by a man still hung up on his dead with? Did you want to be with someone who couldn’t love you completely? Did you want your future to be determined by some hierarchy bullshit?

As Dean continued down the road, your attention was pulled from your thoughts by the sound of something in the backseat.

“What the hell?” Dean looked over his shoulder at his duffle bag. “Is that the EMF reader?”

“Hold on.”

Shifting on the seat, you turned and got onto your knees before leaning over and into the back. Rummaging through his bag, you eventually pulled out the EMF reader and found it lighting up.

Moving back into your spot, you showed Dean. “That’s weird.”

“Yeah.” Pulling over, Dean took the reader from you.

As he inspected the thing, probably making sure it wasn’t broken or anything, you turned your attention to your window. Outside, you found that Dean had parked by the edge of an orchard.

“Not really sure if this place is pretty, or creepy.”

Looking up from the EMF reader, Dean noticed the orchard. “Creepy,” he decided in an instant. “We should check it out.”

“We?” you asked as the two of you got out of the car. “You want me to join you? In the creepy orchard?”

“I thought it would be better than keeping you in the car alone, on a road where unclaimed Omegas might be getting kidnapped,” he countered, walking around the car to your side. “But if you don’t want to go…”

“Oh, I want to go,” you assured him. “I’m just surprised you’re letting me.”

He shrugged as you both started towards the orchard. “Well… maybe I should give you a little more freedom? Put my money where my mouth is and prove to you that I know you’re more than an Omega.”

You were shocked. Dean was nowhere near as bad as his father when it came to using his Alpha status. He didn’t treat you like a delicate thing all the time. But he didn’t exactly let you do whatever you wanted.

He was protective, and sometimes possessive, and constantly worried. He wanted you to join in on certain things when it came to hunting, but he didn’t like you being apart of the tough action. John would rather you sit in the hotel room and research, whereas Dean actually enjoyed taking you along to interview witnesses and such.

The idea that Dean wanted to give you a little more freedom was shocking, but also amazing. If he could actually go through with it your life was going to be changed forever.

Walking through the orchard, you and Dean soon reached a small open area. In the middle was a scarecrow on a post, and with just one look it was safe to say that thing would be giving you nightmares later.

“Dude, you're fugly,” Dean stated, looking up at the thing.

Stepping closer to him, you slid your hand into his and tugged. “Come on. It’s giving me the creeps.”

Before you could successfully pull down away, however, he rooted himself to the ground as he spotted something.

“Hold on.” Letting go of your hand, he grabbed a nearby ladder, set it by the post, and climbed up.

You watched, chewing your cheek nervously as Dean reached for the scarecrow’s arm and moved the torn sleeve out of the way. What he revealed was the rest of a tattoo you’d been too freaked to notice.

“Wait… isn’t that-”

Dean nodded, cutting you off. “Yeah. It’s exactly like our missing guy’s one.” He looked into the scarecrow’s face. “Nice tat.”

…

Dean pulled the car up outside of the gas station where the young Omega from before happened to be hanging around. One look at her and you turned to Dean with a pointed look.

“You don’t have to worry,” he assured you.

“She’s Omega. Actually, that doesn’t always matter,” you noted. “You like them pretty… she’s pretty.”

Shutting off the engine, he turned to you. “I like you.”

“Doesn’t always stop you, Dean,” you countered. “Now, look, I’m not saying you can’t ever be with another chick ever again. I would never say that to you. I would never expect that from you. But this one time, please, can you not? Please. I don’t think I can handle watching you flirt with another girl right now.”

“I’m not going to,” he told you, a little too quickly which did not make you believe him one bit. Sensing that, he sighed, “All the bullshit aside, you chose to stay with me. So I’m choosing to be with you right now. Okay?”

After a pause, you nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” Dean then slid out of the car.

You followed quickly, getting out just as he came by your side and took your hand. The gesture made your cheeks flush a little, but you did your best not to show it. Afterall, according to the people in the town, you and Dean were supposed to be an actually couple, not whatever the hell you actually were.

“You’re back.” The Omega smiled at the two of you.

Dean shrugged. “Never left.”

“Still looking for your friends?”

“Her sister,” Dean nodded at you, correcting the girl before you could. Noticing the necklace around her neck which had her name on it, he smiled at her. “You mind fillin’ Baby up there, Emily?”

Emily moved to do just that as you and Dean watched.

“So, you grew up here?” he asked.

“I came here when I was thirteen,” she started. “I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in.”

Suddenly you felt bad for judging her so harshly. It wasn’t like you didn’t know what she must’ve gone through. You’d lost your whole family, too.

“They’re nice people,” Dean noted, speaking of her aunt and uncle.

Looking over her shoulder at the two of you, she smiled. “Everybody’s nice here.”

Dean lifted his arm to wrap it around your shoulder then. “So what, it’s the, uh... perfect little town?”

“Well, you know, it’s the boonies. But I love it.” She shrugged. “I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it’s almost like we’re blessed.”

“Hey, you been out to the orchard?” Dean pressed. “You seen that scarecrow?”

“Yeah, it creeps me out.” She shuddered.

You nodded, moving closer to Dean. “Yeah, we just drove by the orchard and decided to check it out. Trust me, I was totally freaked. Whoever owns it has a twisted sense of humour.”

“I don’t actually know who owns it,” she noted. “It’s just always been there.”

Dean spotted a car in the auto shop, then. “That your aunt and uncle’s?”

Glancing over at the vehicle, Emily shook her head. “Customer. Had some car troubles.”

“It’s not a couple, is it? A guy and a girl?”

She nodded at his question. “Mmhmm. Actually, it a little weird. We don’t get many stranger, especially Omegas. But they’re another couple, just like you guys.”

Well, that can’t be good...

…

“I’ll be the asshole, you be the nice girl,” Dean told you as you both headed for Scotty’s.

“I thought that was our default thing.” Grinning up at the offend gasp, you backed up into the diner’s door and pushed it open with your backside.

Scotty was serving the guy and girl Emily had told you both about. When the door’s bell rang and he looked up to find you and Dean walking in, he couldn’t hide his surprise. He also didn’t bother hiding the slight glare he shot Dean.

Even though he hadn’t done more than ask a few questions, Dean had already gotten under Scotty’s skin.

“Oh, hey, Scotty.” Dean flashed a bright smile at the man. “Can we get coffees, black, and...?” He looked down at you.

“Chocolate milkshake, please.” You smiled sweetly.

Hesitating a moment, Scotty gave you- not Dean- a short nod. “Coming up, little lady.”

“And two slices of that pie you promised,” Dean called after him as the two of you took a seat at the table by the other couples. “So…” Dean looked to the guy and girl, “how ya doin’? Just passing through?”

“Road trip,” the girl answered.

Dean clearly made her feel a little uneasy. You could relate… the Alpha she was with wasn’t making things easy for you. While you needed to sit and play the game, work at protecting the couple, his scent made you want to run. There was just something about strange Alphas these days… that made you feel very uncomfortable. You could even say they scared you.

“Us too,” Dean told her, reaching his arm around to put it over the back of your chair.

Scotty returned then, placing your food on the table. As he did, he looked over at you and seemed to notice the way you shifted uncomfortably. “You okay, little lady?” he asked. “He ain’t givin’ you trouble, is he?” His eyes darted to Dean.

Dean gave a tight smile, not liking what was being insinuated. “She’s fine.”

“The girl can speak for herself,” Scotty barked before turning his eyes back to you. “You okay?”

With all the questioning, and his pushing behaviour, Dean was not making friends in town. Being a strange Alpha alone would have put a target on his back. Then with all the added weirdness, and searching, and pressing… it really shouldn’t have surprised you that Scotty was jumping to conclusions.

“I’m okay,” you tried to reassure him.

Nodding hesitantly, he started to back up and head for the kitchen again.

“Oh, and that coffee and milkshake, too, man. Thanks,” Dean called after him and then turned back to the couple. “So, what brings you to town?”

“We just stopped for gas. And, uh, the guy at the gas station saved our lives,” the girl explained.

“Is that right?”

Her partner nodded. “Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking. We had no idea. He was fixing it for us.”

“Nice people,” Dean mumbled. “So, how long till you’re up and runnin’?”

“Sundown.”

Sundown, night fall, it was all the same. Harley had tried to keep you two in town that long, and now he’d managed to convince this couple to stay. Whatever was going on, you knew it was going to go down was it was dark.

“Really. To fix a brake line?” Dean thought about it for a moment before giving a half shrug. “I mean, you know, I know a thing or two about cars. I could probably have you up and running in about an hour. I wouldn’t charge you anything,” he offered.

Right away, you could see the girl grow more tense. “You know, thanks a lot, but I think we’d rather have a mechanic do it.”

“Sure. I know.” Dean paused. He knew he’d already made himself look rude and a little sketchy to these people, but also knew he needed to help them. He needed to find a way to convince them he could get them out of town faster. “You know, it’s just that these roads. They’re not real safe at night.”

You internally groaned. Bad move, Dean.

With her fork halfway to her mouth, the girl froze. “I’m sorry?”

Dean tried again. “I know it sounds strange, but, uh… you might be in danger.”

Her Alpha turned right around to face Dean, which made you flinch as the scent of him grew stronger. The guy was clearly annoyed. “Look, we’re trying to eat. Okay?”

“Yeah…” Dean sighed. “You know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you’d just buy right into it.”

At the mention mention of Sam, you flinched again.

The bell above the diner door jingled then as someone walked in. Looking up, you spotted the sheriff. Right away, his Alpha scent hit you.

Your hand shot out and clutched at Dean’s knee under the table. Having one strange Alpha around was bad enough, but two? Your heart was now pounding in your chest as adrenaline began to course through your veins. Your fight or flight instincts were screaming at you to get the hell out of there, and fast.

“Thanks for coming, Sheriff.” Scotty walked out of the kitchen and headed towards the sheriff. You watched as he leaned in to the man and whispered something to him before they both looked to you and Dean.

Pulling back from Scotty, the sheriff stepped up to Dean, sparing you just a single glance. “I’d like a word, please.”

Dean sighed, “Come on. I’m having a bad day already.”

“You know what would make it worse?”

Groaning, Dean took your hand. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Clutching at him tightly, standing as close to him as possible, you followed Dean and sheriff out of the diner. On the way out you glanced at the other Omega girl and felt your adrenaline waver ever so slightly.

The idea of her getting hurt actually really worried you. She shouldn’t have to suffer just because of who she was. Especially when she didn’t even have a choice. No one asks to be an Omega… it’s just a burden thrust upon them.

…

“They kicked us out of town, Dean,” you noted from the passenger seat.

The car was idle, parked on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. You were still close to the town, but not in it. The sheriff had seen to that. He’d driven you right to the border and watched as you’d both disappeared into the distance.

“That couple is gonna die,” he countered.

“I know that. And I don’t want anything to happen to them.” Reaching over, you placed your hand over his as it rested on his thigh. “But I don’t want anything happening to you, either.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. All we gotta do is get to the orchard and wait. The sun will be setting soon.” With his mind made up, he pulled back onto the road and started towards the town.

“If the sheriff catches us… Dean, I don’t know what they’ll do. I don’t… I don’t want to be alone with him.”

“About that...” He turned to look at you then. “What’s with you and Alphas lately?”

“Huh?”

“At the hospital with the cops on the Hook Man case. The guy at the asylum. The sheriff and the other dude today. You’ve been acting weird around Alpha’s. Why? It’s not like you’re not used to us. You’ve been around Alphas for years.”

“I’ve been around Winchester’s for years,” you countered.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“The Alpha’s I’ve been with have all been Winchester’s. You’ve all got similar scents. Not completely, but there’s, like, a base layer to it. It’s kinda like gunpowder and molasses. It’s kinda a burnt and bitter sweetness.”

“Gunpowder and molasses?”

“Mmhmm. John also smells like myrrh and patchouli. Sam smells like ginger and musk. You smell like coffee and rosewood.”

“Coffee and rosewood?”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

“I’m just surprised I smell like roses.”

“Not roses. Rosewood,” you corrected. “It’s sweet, and woody, and a little fruity. There’s a hint of floral, but not much.”

He nodded. “And Sam’s ginger and musky?”

“Mmhmm.”

Sam had the most intense scent, but you weren’t about to tell Dean, that.

John’s scent was cooling, and a little leathery, from the myrrh, but also had dark and wet earthy tones from the patchouli. It wasn’t an in your face scent. It was more subtle. Though that was probably good considering he had a big Alpha personality. If his scent was overpowering, too, then it would be too much.

Ginger was sharp, warm, spicy, and mixed with musk… God. Musk was a scent that all Alpha’s naturally secreted during their ruts, but sometimes it mixed with everyday scents, like Sam’s. It was intended to help with mating, as it helped draw in mates. So when it never went away, it was intense. It was like Sam was always ready for you, and that thought alone made you shiver at the memories of what it had been like when you’d been ‘together’.

“You okay over there?” Dean asked, pulling you form your thoughts.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You nodded quickly.

Looking over at you quickly, he decided to believe you. “So, we were talking about Alphas and you being weird.”

“Right. Well, I’ve only been around your scents, so I’m not used to all Alphas,” you noted. “But I know I’ve been acting weird lately, and if I knew why I would deal with it. For now, can we just try to keep me away from strange Alphas?”

“Sounds good to me.”

…

You’d agreed not to go in the orchid with Dean. As much as you wanted to help, you knew going in there wouldn’t make things easier. Being an Omega meant you were exactly what was being hunter. If you’d gone in there with him you would have been in danger too.

So, instead, you’d stood on the side of the road and waited. You’d listened to the screaming, and the gunshots, and the panic coming from inside the thick of the orchard, and you’d fought every muscle and instinct in your body. The need to run in and make sure everyone was okay grating on your nerves, but you refused to move.

Eventually the girl appeared, running out of the treeline first.

“Come here!” you called, flailing your arms out to get her attention. “Come on!”

Behind her, her boyfriend came running, wrapping an arm around her waist to help her long and keep her safe. Dean wasn’t too far behind, shooting his shotgun into the orchard at nothing you could see… until it came into view.

The scarecrow looked larger than it had hunched up on its perch. It looked terrifying.

“Dean!”

As the Omega and Alpha hurried to hide behind you, Dean stumbled onto the road, shielding the three of you as he kept the gun trained on the orchard.

Unable to leave the land, apparently, the scarecrow then disappeared into the trees and darkness once more.

“What… what the hell was that?” the other Alpha panted.

Keeping his gun aimed and ready just in case, Dean responded, “Don’t ask.”

Bamby

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