#and i think sam insists dean must be more like john must be just like john to convince himself that he's not like him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wayward-dreamer · 3 years

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Life’s Lessons - Good Enough

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Word count: 6,372

Summary: Y/N and Dean are planning their wedding, but a reminder from the past gives him doubts about his relationship and whether he’ll ever actually be good enough for her.

Warnings: Swearing, Dean’s past with Lisa comes back to haunt him, ANGST, Tears, Dean’s self deprecation rears its ugly head, Making up, Fluff.

Music: Love Of My Life - Queen (Dean bar scene)

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: The next time stamp is here! Stay tuned for another announcement soon about the saga! Hope you all like the time stamp! As always, happy reading and enjoy! :)

Life’s Lessons Saga Masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics.

Y/N pressed the ‘end’ button on her phone, throwing it beside her on the couch with a loud groan of frustration.

Looking down at the coffee table in front of her, she shook her head at the sudden overwhelming feeling. The whole surface of the table was covered in bridal magazines, brochures, printouts of venues, her laptop with multiple tabs open, and everything else that came with planning a wedding. She kept hitting brick walls with every place she was looking at being unavailable for the date that she and Dean had decided on. The only thing she had managed to do was finalize the guest list, which was at 80 people. It wasn’t a big number, but knowing she would have to do the invitations as soon as a venue was decided, it was a lot of people. Luckily, it was everyone she or Dean cared about, without having to make sacrifices for their special day.

Y/N heard the key in the door and Dean’s boots on the wooden floors as he walked through the house. He smiled when he saw her, walking over quickly and leaning down, kissing her softly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he muttered against her lips, kissing her again.

“Hey,” she sighed, a relief washing over her now that he was home. “How was work?”

He huffed out a breath as he leaned back against the couch. “Busy. Having the new guy on today didn’t help. I felt like how you must feel with the kids in class, keeping an eye on him most of the time.”

“He’ll get better soon enough, don’t worry,” she reassured him, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

Dean glanced over the coffee table, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. “That looks like a lot. You okay? Anything I can help with? Not that I know a damn thing about weddings.”

He smirked with a small laugh, kissing her cheek. Y/N smiled and shook her head, looking down at the table and sighing heavily.

“I keep hitting dead ends with venues, that’s all,” she stated, shrugging.

“Hey.” Getting her attention, he cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Everything’s gonna work out. We’ll find something and it’s going to be amazing. I know it.”

She nodded, even though she didn’t really feel better despite his comforting words. “I guess I’m just worried about a lot of this.”

“You know whatever you need from me, I’m here, right? Say the word and I’ll do it,” he told her, his hands leaving her face and taking hers.

“I know,” she whispered, smiling softly at him.

“Don’t worry about anything, sweetheart,” he said, smiling at her. “We got this, okay?”

“I know, I just…” she stopped herself, unsure of how to express herself.

“Something’s wrong,” Dean frowned, sensing something wasn’t right. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she reassured him, smiling softly. “But… I just need to know you want all of this. I know you keep saying you want me to have the wedding I want, but I want us both to have that, Dean. I want what you want too.”

“Don’t go thinking I don’t want all of this. I wanna do this for you. For us.” he said, smiling reassuringly. “I do. I promise you, I do, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” She nodded, her worried expression morphing into a soft smile.

“Okay, good. Now, take a break from all this stuff and let’s make dinner. Sound good?” he asked, smirking.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling wide as she leaned in and kissed him.

As they got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen to start cooking, Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, as she felt a pressure lift off her. Dean always had a way of doing that. It was incredibly cute to see Dean so excited, even if he didn’t understand what she was saying when she mentioned something to do with the wedding, but he secretly loved getting involved.

They couldn’t wait to get to the big day and start the next part of their journey together.

The doorbell rang, alerting Y/N that her guests for the evening had arrived. It was a Saturday, and unfortunately Dean had to go into work because of some problem with one of the cars, so Y/N was left to do more of the wedding planning herself. Dean felt guilty as he left, but she had assured him that it was more than okay.

She walked to the door and opened it, smiling wide as she saw Mary and John on the other side. They all hugged each other, before Y/N led her into the house.

“So, how are things going?” Mary asked, as they walked into the kitchen where Y/N had been making dinner.

“Things are… stressful,” Y/N replied, huffing a small laugh. “Though I managed to book a venue yesterday, and that’s taken a lot of pressure off. I was going to tell Dean first, but do you guys wanna know?”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mary exclaimed. “Yes, absolutely!”

Y/N opened her laptop that was kept to the side on the kitchen bench, bringing up the photos of the outdoor venue. “Dean was telling me once that you guys used to drive up here a lot when he and Sam were kids, and I thought I’d try it out. The land is owned by the ranch close by that’s a wedding venue and I asked if we could use this space. They said they had an opening for our date, so I booked it straight away.”

She showed them the photos of a beautiful location, surrounded by trees and a lake. It was perfect for the ceremony, and the clearing nearby would be perfect for the reception.

“Y/N, this is…” John shook his head, speechless as he looked over the photos. “God, the boys used to love going there.”

“Y/N, it’s stunning! Oh, it’s going to a beautiful wedding,” Mary told her, her smile radiant as put her arm around Y/N and brought her close.

“Do you think Dean will like it?” Y/N asked, nervously.

“He definitely will. We used to take the boys fishing there. They never caught a damn thing, but they always loved going,” John replied, reassuringly.

“Okay, good.” Y/N nodded as she closed her laptop. “Because we initially thought about having it here, we don’t have room for 80 people.”

“Well, this is perfect,” Mary said, smiling.

“It is. I can’t wait to show Dean,” Y/N smiled, before standing up and walking into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.

“Anything I can help with?” Mary asked, leaning against the kitchen island.

“Nope, almost done,” Y/N replied, smiling over at her. “John, there’s beer in the fridge. Mary, wine?”

“I’ll take care of that,” John insisted, taking a beer out before finding the wine Mary liked on the small rack.

In the garage, Dean pulled the Impala up and cut the engine, turning off the car. He sighed tiredly as he leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. It had been a long day, and the last thing he had wanted was to go into work on a Saturday, but being the boss, he was needed. He hated that he couldn’t stay home and help Y/N out with whatever she needed and enjoy time with her, but at least he was back in time to have dinner with her and his parents.

Getting out of the Impala, he locked it and walked around the back of the car to the other side. He tried to slide past his work bench, but rammed right into it, cursing as the edge dug into him, sending a few tools flying to the floor.

“Fuck,” he groaned, closing his eyes.

He blinked a few times, crouching down and picking up the screwdrivers that fell on the floor. As he did, something that had fallen behind the bench caught his eye. He reached behind it, taking out the notebook that had gotten stuck. Opening it, he flipped through the pages, seeing old calculations and notes of his, knowing that they weren't of use now. Suddenly, a page fell out, falling at his feet, with unfamiliar writing on it.

“What…” he mumbled to himself as he held it up, reading over the page properly.

His face fell as he read over the words that were no doubt written by Lisa, recognizing her handwriting now that he could see it properly. She must have used this from his office in their house when she couldn’t find anything else.

Stubborn. Too close to his family. Doesn’t earn enough. Just a mechanic.

It was a pros and cons list. She had made reasons for whether she should stay with him or not. The only thing written on the pros list was that he was a good father figure to Ben. However, the cons outweighed everything as he read over them again. He didn’t earn enough. His job wasn’t good enough. And if that was true then that meant he wasn’t good enough. He knew he shouldn’t care what it said considering he was with Y/N now, and they were engaged, with his relationship with Lisa practically ancient history by now. Yet he couldn’t stop reading over her words.

Crushing the paper into a ball and shoving into his pocket, he shut the notebook, tossing it in the paper basket kept next to the bench. He walked over to the door that led into the house, closing it behind him and walked down the hallway, hearing Y/N’s infectious laugh coming from the living room.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, seeing him enter the room.

“Hey,” he said, walking over to her, kissing her softly as he leaned down. He went over to his parents and hugged them before sitting down next to her.

“How was work?” she asked, smiling at him.

“Tiring,” he replied, huffing slightly, but offered her a smile. “But good. Glad to be home though.”

“Well, I was telling your parents, but I can tell you now,” she started, sharing a smile with John and Mary before she turned back to him. “I found a venue for the wedding.”

“That’s great, sweetheart,” he said, smiling softly as he kissed her again.

Y/N frowned slightly as he pulled away, sensing something wasn’t right with him, but she let it go for now. She hoped that he was just tired from work and that was it.

“Do you want to hear about it?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, too quickly. “Actually, I’m gonna wash up and why don’t you tell me over dinner.”

“Sure,” she agreed, nodding. “Well, food’s ready. We were just waiting on you.”

“Okay,” he muttered, standing up and walking out of the room.

“Does he seem a little off to you?” John questioned, frowning as he looked between Mary and Y/N.

“Something must’ve happened at work,” Y/N sighed, worriedly.

“Well, let’s just hope it’s nothing too serious,” Mary added, her expression matching Y/N’s.

Dean returned after freshening up, just as Y/N, Mary and John walked over to the dining table. They all sat down, each of them taking turns to put food on their plate. They ate in silence, worried eyes glancing between each other and discreetly looking at Dean as he ate. Sensing they needed a distraction first, John and Mary exchanged looks, before she cleared her throat.

“So, we actually have something for both of you,” Mary announced, looking at John, giving him a firm nod.

The elder Winchester took out a small, folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket, and slid it across the wooden table to his son. Dean frowned curiously and Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, as she looked over Dean’s shoulder. He opened it, both of their eyes widening as they saw what it was. He opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to speak.

“That’s from us, and after we spoke to your mom and dad, we decided to split things between us, so there’s should be coming to you soon,” Mary told Y/N, smiling.

“Mary…” Y/N trailed off, shaking her head as she was still in shock. “We can’t accept this cheque-”

“Guys, this is insane,” Dean finally said, frowning as he looked up at his parents.

“I thought you’d say that, but-” Mary started but Dean cut her off.

“We’re not taking it, mom,” he interrupted, his frustration getting the better of him.

“Dean,” Mary sighed, thinking about how to make him understand. “We’ve been sitting on this money since before you started renovating this place. We tried to hint then too, but you didn’t take it, wanting to do everything yourself. Had you never had this place we would’ve given it to you on your wedding day to put towards a house, just like we did with Sam and Eileen. Considering you have this place now, the least we can do is help with the wedding.”

“You’re really sure about this?” Y/N asked, completely unsure if this was a good idea. Clearly Dean wasn’t accepting this.

“Absolutely,” Mary replied, smiling. “And don’t even think about paying it back, it’s for both of you to use, however you want. Put it towards the wedding, if there’s anything left, put it towards the honeymoon, or savings… whatever you want.”

Dean shook his head, the frown still evident on his face. “So what? This is a pity offer?”

“No,” Mary gasped, eyes wide with shock. “Of course not, Dean. How could you think we would do that?”

He scoffed, turning to glare at Y/N. “I don’t make enough money, right? That’s what this is. You asked them for money.”

Y/N looked at him, unable to get over her shock at the way he was reacting. “What? No. No! Dean, how can you think that?”

Dean chuckled bitterly. He looked down at his food, suddenly losing his appetite. He quickly stood up, pushing up his sleeves as he pushed his chair out. Y/N felt her heart banging repeatedly against her ribcage, as she watched him get up.

“We’re not taking this. No fucking way,” he hissed, pushing the cheque back across the surface.

“Dean,” John’s voice bellowed around the room, staring up at his son with a stern expression.

“Dean, we just wanted to contribute, that’s all, honey,” Mary reasoned, trying to calm the situation. “If this is how you feel, then it’s put to bed. Let’s just enjoy dinner.”

“Yeah, damn right that’s how I feel,” he snapped, as he turned to face her.

“I’m sor-” Mary started but he cut her off again, turning to Y/N.

“Do you think I can’t do this for us?” he asked, his voice eerily calm but the shakiness gave away how upset he was, as he faced Y/N.

Her eyes narrowed in upset as she stood up too, looking at him. “Of course I think you can do this, Dean. How could you even question that?”

“Because it’s exactly what it looks like, Y/N!” he yelled. He scoffed and shook his head, scrubbing a hand down his face. “What I do isn’t good enough. I’m not good enough.”

She visibly flinched; her eyes widened as she looked at him. She had never seen him this upset. She felt tears brim her bottom lids, threatening to fall. John and Mary watched on in horror, unable to understand what was going on with their son.

“What?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “How could you possibly think that?”

“Because it’s true,” he muttered, looking away from her, his jaw clenching tight. “And if you haven’t already, you’ll realize it one day.”

“Dean,” she breathed, a tear rolling down her face as she saw how dejected he looked.

“That’s not true.”

“If you don’t want this anymore, Y/N, there were easier ways to tell me,” he spat, turning away from her and storming off.

“Dean, stop! What’s gotten into you?” she yelled, following behind him.

“I can’t fucking do this right now,” he scoffed.

Mary and John were hot on their heels too as they stopped in the entrance, watching Dean pick up his keys and make his way to the door.

“Dean, where are you going?” Y/N asked, choking as a wave of sadness washed over her.

“I can’t be here,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I need to think.”

“Think about what?” Her voice was cracking, the tears finally falling down her face. Everything was falling apart in the span of a few minutes, and she had no idea why. Why was he acting like this?

“I don’t know, Y/N, okay?” he snapped, turning to pin her with a scowl. “I just… I gotta get outta here.” Gesturing around him, he turned to open the door.

His mind was cloudy with all the doubts he was having at that moment. He needed a drink and some time to cool off. He walked through the threshold, not looking back at Y/N.

“Dean, wait-” she started but the door slamming as he left, cut her off.

Y/N felt knots in her stomach, tightening and moving into her chest. She tried to breathe normally but started to feel as if her throat was closing off, cutting off her air supply. Tears stung her eyes as they continued to flow down her face. She began hyperventilating, her hands cupping over her mouth as she began to cry. Her body shook with the force of her sobs. Her legs felt like jelly, like any minute she would collapse and wouldn’t be able to get up again.

“Oh, honey,” Mary whispered, as she wrapped her arms around Y/N tightly.

“I don’t… k-know what I did to-to make him think-” she stuttered, stopping as she sobbed.

“You didn’t do anything, sweetie. I just… There's something wrong. I didn’t think he would act like this. At most, he would be annoyed and then eventually give in. But this?” Mary tried to figure out what was going on, but shook her head as she couldn’t think of what could be wrong with her son.

“I’ll go talk to him,” John offered.

“No, he just needs space to process whatever’s going on in his head,” Y/N sniffled, pulling away from Mary as she looked between them. “You can head home if you want to. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” John stated, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and hugging her as she was between him and Mary. “Everything’s gonna be okay, don’t you worry.”

The silence made her mind wander off into irrational directions. Had she done something to make Dean this upset? Had she said anything to make him think he wasn’t good enough? She loved him so much, and she wanted nothing more than to be his wife, but if she had really made him feel that way, then she was the one who wasn’t good enough for him.

She managed to convince John and Mary that she was fine enough for them to leave, insisting they take some food home with them. They said their goodbyes, and Y/N headed upstairs, completely exhausted after the whirlwind evening. As she got changed in the walk-in closet, she felt more tears sting her eyes. They rolled down her face, but she didn’t make a move to wipe them away as she changed.

She just wanted Dean to come home so that they could talk and forget about what just happened.

Dean drove around town for a while, the words he said to Y/N plaguing his mind. He was just so angry after finding that list from Lisa, it just came out in the worst way possible. He reached the regular bar that he would go to with the guys, needing at least one drink to calm himself down.

Sitting down at the bar, he ordered a whiskey double, neat, and gulped the first one down in one shot. Asking for another, he nursed it as he thought about everything that had happened in the past half hour. His anger had dissolved quickly and had morphed into fear. Fear at what he would or wouldn’t find when he got home. As a Queen song played in the background from the jukebox, he quickly realized how much it was mirroring the situation they had found themselves in.

Love of my life, you’ve hurt me

You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me

Love of my life, can’t you see?

Bring it back, bring it back

Don’t take it away from me

Because you don’t know

What it means to me

He realized how he had overreacted, that his parents, just being the people that they are, would just give the cheque to them. He shouldn’t have taken his anger out on them and Y/N. Hell, she didn’t even know what he was upset about. That considered, he knew that he wasn’t good enough for her, especially now. Taking out his phone, he looked at the screen and saw a few missed calls from her and a few texts. Gulping the lump in his throat, he opened the messages and felt his heart sink into his stomach as he read over them. There were three, and as he read the words over again, he felt tears prick his eyes.

She had nothing to be sorry for. He was the asshole that let things blow out of proportion, all because he let one stupid note get to him. Determined to make it home and fix everything, Dean paid for his drink and left the bar.

He hoped like hell that he hadn’t ruined his whole future in one evening.

Dean entered through the door from the garage. Not a single light was on as he walked further in, seeing the kitchen, dining and living area completely dark. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards the stairs and began the climb to the second floor, knowing he had to face whatever came next, even if he was fearing it so much that his stomach was in knots.

He walked towards their bedroom and stood at the threshold, his heart breaking at what he saw. Only one of the bedside lamps was on, providing the only light in the room. Y/N was lying on the bed, her back to the door, her knees drawn up as she laid in the foetal position, her shoulders shaking. She was sobbing quietly, the sounds low but somehow so loud in the quiet room. With every cry, a piece of his heart felt like it was shattering into smaller shards.

He moved slowly towards the bed, sitting down on the edge, watching as her head slowly turned. Her eyes were red and puffy, wet from the tears she had shed. She looked at him, sitting up slowly, their eyes meeting. Suddenly, she launched herself into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, crying into the crook of his neck. He felt tears prick his eyes, letting a few escape as he felt his sadness wash over him.

“Y/N,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never should’ve said the things that I did, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

“I was so scared,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry for whatever I did, please, just tell me.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling her away and cupping her face, looking her deep in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.”

“How could you ever doubt how I feel about you?” she asked, her voice croaky from how much she had cried. “How could you ever think you’re not good enough for me? What did I do to make you think that?”

“You didn’t do anything, sweetheart. I promise. This was… this was all me and my crap,” he said, shaking his head.

“What did I do to make you doubt me?” she cried, fresh tears making tracks down her face.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he reassured her, frantically moving towards her, grasping her shoulders. “You didn’t do anything, okay? This… this is the reason I overreacted.”

She frowned as he handed her the paper, but opened the folded page and read over the words written on there. She was confused, knowing she didn’t write this, her eyebrows lifting in realization as she read over the “pros” column.

“I’ll kill her,” she growled, looking up at him with a ferocity in her eyes. “I’ll… God, I wanna hurt her!”

Y/N stood up from the bed and paced the floor, her whole body shaking with how angry she was at that moment. She couldn’t believe that something like this could come between them, showing that Lisa still had a grip on Dean’s mind.

“She doesn’t get to do this to you anymore, Dean!” she yelled, holding up the piece of paper. “She doesn’t get to ruin our future!”

He scoffed a chuckle, shaking her head. “I nearly let her.”

“So, don’t,” Y/N said, walking up to him. She cupped his face in her hands, making him look up at her as he sat on the bed. “You are good enough for me. Every part of you. I love you for exactly who you are, and if I have to spend the rest of our lives together trying to convince you that you’re my one, my everything, that there’s not a doubt in my mind that you’re so right for me, then I’ll do it.”

Wrapping her arms around him, his forehead rested against her chest as she laid her cheek on his head. She held him tightly, neither of them wanting to move away from the other.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his hands on her hips, feeling the material of his black t-shirt she was wearing against his skin. “I just saw that cheque, and I thought about that list, and I just overreacted.”

“No, you’re not,” she stated, kissing the top of his head. “You were upset.”

“That’s no excuse,” he whispered, hating himself for taking it out on her. “You didn’t deserve that. I uh… I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to end this-”

“Dean, stop,” she choked out, pressing her forehead to his, combing her hand through his hair.

He shook his head, lifting it to look into her eyes. “I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about this even before finding that list. I’m always scared I’m gonna say or do something to give you a reason to leave me. If that happened… I know I wouldn’t survive it.”

Y/N frustratedly wiped her tears away, looking around the room for her sweats. Finding them, she roughly pulled them on and slipped on her sneakers, putting on a light shirt over the black t-shirt she was wearing. Dean watched her; confusion riddled his face as she moved around the room.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice wavering as his mind started to make up horrific scenarios.

“Come with me,” she said, firmly, a determined look on her face as she held her hand out.

“Where are we-” he started but she cut him off, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the bed.

“Shut up,” she muttered, scowling as she dragged him behind her, down the stairs and out of the house, just as she picked up her keys from the table at the entrance.

Knowing he couldn’t argue when she looked so distressed, he followed behind her as they made their way to her car.

“Get in,” she demanded, harshly.

He was shaking, wondering what the hell had come over her suddenly but again did as he was told without saying anything that would possibly make her angrier than he already had. He couldn’t tell what he had done, but she was upset with him.

Dean looked on in silence as Y/N backed out and turned the car, the tires screeching as she sped off down the road. He gulped as she drove, his mind trying to talk itself out of thinking she was possibly going to kill him and dump his body somewhere. However, he also found her anger strangely arousing. They drove ten minutes before he recognized that she wasn’t going to do that, and that she had turned down a very familiar street. They drove past several houses before she stopped, pulling the car up to the curb and cutting the engine.

“Get out,” she ordered, leaving the keys in the ignition and opening the driver’s side door, slamming it shut as she stood on the road.

He got out, closing the passenger door and following behind her, looking around the dark street and quickly realizing they were standing in front of her previous rental house, just across from his and Lisa’s, all that time ago. She pulled at his jacket and he stumbled, straightening when she pulled him to stand in a specific spot next to the curb. She looked up at him, standing directly in front of him as the deep glare, her eyes riddled with sadness, was still on her face.

“Do you remember what happened here?” she asked, her eyes welling with unshed tears.

Frowning, he shook his head as he was unable to think straight, his mind clouded by the sudden change in her demeanour. “Y/N, I-”

“Do you remember what happened here, Dean?” she repeated, her voice cracking slightly as she raised it.

He sighed, glancing between the two houses, giving her a curt nod. “Of course I do.”

“Tell me,” she ordered, not breaking her eye contact with him, the scowl still present.

“It’s…” he cleared his throat, pushing down the lump in his throat as he looked at her. “It’s where I helped you with your stuff. It’s… it’s where we met.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her face as she nodded slowly. “And it’s also where my life changed forever. Even if I didn’t know it at the time.”

“Y/N,” he breathed, trying to reach for her hand but she pulled away, making his heart sink. She had never done that. Never.

“Do you remember what was happening in that house?” she asked, the tears flowing freely down her face as she looked across the street.

He looked over, breathing heavily, his breath shaky as he exhaled but said nothing. He remembered all too well.

“You thought you were happy. You thought everything was fine… but you were losing yourself because of-” she choked, shaking her head, overwhelmed as she thought about those early days and her first impressions of his relationship with Lisa. “Because of her, and you didn’t even know it.”

He was silent, unable to say anything or even try to deny it, because he knew it was true. Turning his head to Y/N, he saw her looking up at him, the glare finally disappearing, her eyes holding a determined look despite the tears.

“And now, you could lose yourself because of her again if you don’t stop yourself from thinking that she's right,” she stated, stepping closer to him. “She was never right and she never will be. She didn’t know you like I do. She didn’t love you like I do. She’s gone from our lives… so don’t bring her back into it by going back into the shell she put you in.”

His jaw clenched as he shut his eyes, squeezing them tight as a tear slipped down his right cheek. Lifting her hand, she cupped his cheek and brushed it away with her thumb, stroking his jaw. She pushed up on her tiptoes, capturing his plump lips between hers, kissing him hard and desperately. She needed him to see there was nothing there to leave him over.

Pulling away from the kiss but keeping close, she looked at him as her thumbs stroked along his cheeks. “You’ll never give me a reason to leave you. Not now, not ever.”

“You got a lot of confidence in me, sweetheart,” he muttered, a slight scoff in his tone.

She smiled softly, knowing that if he couldn’t see it himself, she’d spend forever showing him he was worth more than he gave himself credit for.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I do.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Don’t be,” she whispered back, her eyes closing, content to be close to him again. “We’re going to be okay.”

“You think so?” he asked, his voice laced with hope, as he lifted his head to look at her properly.

“I know so,” she replied, a soft smile on her face. “You’re not getting rid of me any time soon, Winchester.”

“You still wanna marry me after that?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes,” she said, simply as she pushed herself closer into him. “You can’t let something she thought affect you because it’s not true. It doesn’t matter what she thinks. So… promise me, right now, that you’re going to let this go. All that matters is you and me.”

Looking deep into her eyes, he remembered everything they had been through together, and thought about all the amazing things they still had to experience. He wasn’t going to let someone from his past ruin his future.

“I promise,” he said, firmly.

She smiled up at him, moving in and capturing his lips, kissing him passionately. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispered. “So fucking much.”

“Let’s go home,” she whispered back, stroking her hand lightly over the back of his head. “I think I need to show you just how much I love you.”

He hummed against her lips, kissing her softly. “Yes, please.”

She laughed, biting her lip. “I scared you a little, didn’t I?”

“Well, when I didn’t think about how you could be plotting to kill me,” he joked, smirking as she chuckled, “it was kinda hot to see you pissed off.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes as she giggled. “You’re crazy.”

“Hey,” he called out, pulling her closer, his hands sliding down to her hips. “I can’t help the fact that it turned me on, sweetheart. It’s just the magic of you.”

She felt her cheeks heat up, pressing her lips together as she tried not to smile. “Let’s go before someone sees us out here.”

Hand in hand, they walked back to the car, separating as they got in. He glanced back at the old house once more, feeling an enormous weight lift off him as he looked at the place that held a lot of pain before Y/N came along. That weight had resurfaced when he saw that list that Lisa had made, but as she always did, Y/N had been there to stop him from losing his way. She was the one who built him back up to the person that he used to be, the one who reignited his spirit. He had known early on how special she was, and she proved time and time again that she was there to stay.

And now, he was never going to lose sight of that. He let Lisa get into his head again, but for the final time, he was putting an end to that. He had someone by his side who wanted to be with him forever, and he was never going to forget that ever again.

Y/N sat at the dining table the next morning, her coffee in hand, all of her plans for the wedding spread out in front of her. She smiled as she sent a few texts out to the girls, asking them if they were available the next weekend to start looking for her wedding dress. As she was looking at photos, she flinched slightly, feeling Dean’s lips against her neck, moving down to her exposed shoulder, the sleeve of his t-shirt she was wearing having slipped down.

“Oh my god, Dean, don’t look!” she yelled, hiding her screen with her hands.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he sat down beside her. “Babe, you haven’t even found a dress yet. I’m pretty sure it’s okay if I can see those.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to see in case I do find something like this,” she explained, smiling sheepishly. “I want to surprise you.”

He smiled as he leaned forward, kissing her softly. “You’re gonna knock me out no matter what dress you pick. Just sayin’.”

“Even if I look like a frosted cupcake?” she teased, giggling.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed, his lips hovering close to hers. “‘Cause then you’ll look good enough to eat.”

“That’s so cheesy,” she snorted, laughing.

“You love it,” he grinned, chuckling along with her.

She pressed her lips to his, kissing him lightly but he had other plans, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her off her chair, onto his lap. She moaned softly against his lips as his fingers ran lightly over her bare thighs, the t-shirt riding up as she straddled him.

“So…” she pulled away from the kiss, reaching for the cheque on the table and showing it to him. “What do we want to do with this?”

“We use it,” he replied, nodding confidently as he smirked. “If there’s any left, we save it for the future, including anything your parents are sending.”

She beamed, brushing her knuckles against his cheek. “Sounds good.”

As they sat there together, having breakfast and coffee as they talked about the plans, Dean was leaving all the negative thoughts behind with the confidence that the woman sitting next to him wasn’t going anywhere. With the promises already made the previous night, he smiled as he thought about all the new ones he would make on the day she finally became his wife.

On the day the next chapter of their lives started.

A chapter he couldn’t wait to explore with Y/N by his side.

-x-

Tags: @deanwanddamons // @winchest09 // @downanddirtydean // @jensengirl83 // @wonder-cole // @that-one-gay-girl // @whatareyousearchingfordean // @flamencodiva // @danneelsmain // @ellewritesfix05 // @roonyxx // @akshi8278 //@hobby27 // @michellethetvaddict // @spngirl05 // @kyjey // @440mxs-wife // @stoneyggirl // @stoneyggirl2 // @deanswaywardgirl // @redbarn1995 // @marianita195 // @babypink224221 // @deans-baby-momma // @parinarain // @thoughts-and-funnies // @mandalou29 // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @supernatural-love14 // @vicmc624 // @prettyboyswow // @lunarmoon8 // @irmcpar // @compresshischest09 // @weepingwillowphoenix // @xlynnbbyx // @whiskey-infused-dreams // @perpetualabsurdity // @verytoadpapersoul // @pink-sparkly-witch //

#Life's Lessons Saga #Life's Lessons Time Stamps #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfiction

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onionsaremeansstuff · 3 years

Note

Would you write a michael (john) smut story were the reader is his soulmate and some random guy is flirting with him. also michael gets possessive with the reader which causes them to have sex

hey! Thanks for the request ! Michael is one of my favorite characters in supernatural so i really liked you request ! I’m not the best smut writer but I tried, hope you like it!

Pairing: Michael!John x reader

Gender: Male

Warnings: Smut

I dont own the character or the gif

"Y/N! Stop!" A deep, booming voice ordered which caused you to stop.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was that ordered you to stop.

It was the archangel, Michael.

A few weeks ago, Chuck had decided to release Michael from the cage, as well as giving Adam his body back and Michael was using young John Winchester's body as a vessel.

You had never met the archangel before and honestly, you never wanted to meet him. But, since you lived with the Winchesters, meeting him was bound to happen eventually.

When you first met the Archangel, he only stared at you like he was seeing through you and claimed that you were special.

Apparently you were some kind of powerhouse that Chuck created for Michael.

As long as you are living, Michael gets stronger, especially when he's around you.

When he first claimed that you were special, you scoffed and told him to go fuck himself and leave you alone. But, that didn't stop the prince of Heaven from doing what he wanted.

He always came to the bunker to check on you. And you asked why he cares about you so much.

"I don't care about you, I only care about what you can do, little human." He told you.

He made it very clear why he came to check up on you and this time wasn't any different.

He also liked to order you around.

"It's already 3 AM, Y/N. You humans need your sleep. Go to bed now and that's an order!"

You looked at him tiredly and was about to say something back to him when you really looked at him and his vessel.

Damn, John was hot.

You met older John before and you thought that he was definitely a DILF.

But, his younger self was hot as fuck.

"Stop having those thoughts about my vessel and go to bed!" The Angel ordered once again.

"Okay, you don't tell me what to do. You don't own me," You responded, and annoyance was written across Michael's face. He snapped his fingers and you were suddenly lying down in your bed with your pajamas on, "Michael!" You scolded.

You were standing in the kitchen, waiting for Dean to finish making breakfast which consisted of pancakes and bacon.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He growled out before he disappeared with the sound of flapping wings.

---

"Hurry up, Dean. I'm starving!" You exclaimed and a chuckle left the older man's mouth.

"You will survive, kiddo." He replied and went back to cooking the food.

Finally, he finished the food and put it on a plate for you. He handed it to you and you took it out of his hands quickly, plopping down into the chair and picking up a fork, ready to eat this delicious food.

When you were about to eat it, the plate freakin' disappeared. It was gone.

"What the-" Before you could finish that sentence, a plate full of salad appeared in front of you.

A freakin' salad?!

"Your diet is horrible, little human." Michael commented with that stupid smirk on his face.

"I'm sure that there are other important things for you to do in Heaven right now than to worry about my health and my food choices, Michael." You said angrily, anger rising in your chest.

Dean sat at the table, eating his food as he watched you two go at it.

"There's actually nothing important that I have to do in Heaven right now, Y/N. Heaven is doing great which is the exact opposite of what you are doing right now. Don't even get me started on the fact that you didn't even get 8 hours of sleep last night."

You blinked at the angel in front of you.

This angel is crazy. He is not your dad and was not someone to boss you around and make you eat rabbit food. You don't eat rabbit food. You now see and understand what Dean was talking about when Sam brought that food in here.

You have officially had enough.

You just smiled at them. A huge fake smile and grabbed the knife off the table. You walked over to the wall as the other two standing in the room watched you. After cutting your palm, you drew that angel banishing sigil on the wall.

"What are you-" Michael couldn't finish that sentence because you completed the sigil and sent that damn angel away.

"Ah, couple fights always make my mornings better." Dean spoke once Michael was gone with his mouth full of bacon and you rolled your eyes, leaving the room.

---

That night, you and the Winchesters went to a bar.

The brothers headed inside while you stayed outside, sitting on the bench. There weren't anyone out here except for a few other people. Some drunk and some not.

"Hey handsome, did your license get suspended because you are driving me crazy." A random guy said that really cheesy pick up line to you, giving you a smile and you laughed.

"You get a 0 for the pickup line, but a 10 for making me laugh." You told him and started chatting with him.

"So, Y/N..." He started rubbing his finger up and down your thigh as you felt yourself flush, "I may not be from NASA, but can I show you stars today?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but the annoying angel interrupted your conversation.

"Sorry, but he's busy today." Michael spoke, irritation could be heard in his voice. He grabbed onto your shoulder and teleported you back to the bunker.

"What the hell is your problem, Michael?" You screamed at the archangel.

"That disgusting human tried to have sex with you, Y/N! I saved you!"

"Maybe I wanted to have sex with him, Mikey." You retaliated, grabbing your knife and getting ready to draw that angel banishing sigil again, but Michael snapped his fingers and the knife disappeared.

"You deserve way better than that filthy mongrel." Michael insisted.

"Look, I know I'm like your powerhouse, or whatever, but you can't control my life. My eating habits and sleep schedule were pretty harmless, but who I have sex with is crossing a line and is none of your business." You told him, "Besides, I'm human. A mongrel or a hairless ape like you always say, so why do you care so much?"

Michael stared at you for a long time before telling you what he was thinking, "Because I can't stand the idea of someone touching you." He let out a sigh and looked anywhere other than you.

You looked at him in confusion, "Why can't you stand it?"

"I lied to you, Y/N. You are not a source of energy for me. You never were." He admitted, sitting on the bed, "You are so much more than just that. You are my soulmate."

You stared at him for a couple seconds before you started laughing hysterically.

"Me? Your soulmate?" You laughed again before having a serious expression on your face, "If this is some plan to get me to let you control my life, it's not gonna work."

He looked at you, hurt and confused.

"I'm serious, Y/N. When I left the cage, Dad told me he had created a soulmate for me weeks ago." He got up from the bed and walked over to you, "When he showed me you, I started to laugh. How can a hairless ape be my soul mate? My father must have been crazy." He looked at you deep in your eyes, "But, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I looked down on you from Heaven all the time to see how you were and your little habits. Oh My Father, I couldn't stand it. I wanted you. I wanted every inch of you," He walked closer to you and placed his hand on your cheek, "When I first met you in person, I thought about just taking care of you and being close to you and when I saw that man hit on you, I couldn't take it anymore. My grace boiled inside of me and before I knew it, I was on earth."

You couldn't really process everything that he just said, but for some reason you knew that he was telling the truth.

"Michael..."

"I can't stand the idea of another person, or thing touching you, Y/N. Please accept me as your soulmate." He bowed, waiting for your answer.

You always said you hated Michael and everything he did, but that was far from the

As much as the angel irritated you and could be very annoying, you felt a feeling of love deep down for this man.You loved Michael and all the things he has done for you.

So, you knew what decision was right for you in the end.

"I accept you as my soulmate."

And with that the angel smiled and attached his lips to yours. His muscular arms soon pulled at your waist, bringing you closer to him.

"I wanted to do this for so long." He said between kisses and then lifted you up.

You were slightly worried about your weight but soon remembered that for an angel, you basically weighed nothing.

"Please Y/N, allow me to have you tonight. Allow me to make our flesh become one and allow me to merge your soul with my grace." You grunted yes between his lips but he seemed to understand since he threw you on your bed while looking at you as if you were his prey.

He started removing the shirt he was wearing and you could see the man's muscular torso.

"Lust is a deadly sin, Y/N." He bent down and started kissing your collarbone until he reached your ear, "Lucky you have an angel to cleanse you of your sins."

Michael went back to your neck, sucking on it, making you moan his name.

"This is it Y/N, pray for me." He started to suck hard on your neck until it was all marked with hickeys, "Now no miserable mortal will dare touch what is mine." He got up a little and kissed you hard, as his hand went under your shirt and caressed your torso. Michael pulled away to look at you.

"You are by far the most perfect human to ever exist. in fact, it is a crime to compare you to a human. You are closer to a God." He said as a gentle hand stroked your sides.

"Michael, there are more beautiful humans in the world than me." you said a little shy

"Well, I have watched humanity billions of years and you are my father's most beautiful creation." You blushed and Michael smirked, feeling confident.

He started to remove his belt slowly, lowering his pants enough for you to see his underwear.

"Do you like what you see, my prince?" He teased, winking at you.

"Who knew an angel could secretly be a demon in bed."

"You woke up a darker side of me, my prince. I had to deal with them myself, so I ended up learning something or two." He took off his pants and lowered his underwear enough to show his pubes.

"Did you watch porn?" You asked and he just smiled.

"It doesn't matter now, honey." Michael lowered his underwear and revealed his erect member.

You had seen John naked once by accident and you already knew that older Winchester had a big package.

But, oh my Chuck the size scared you a little bit.

"We’ll take it easy, Y/N. Don't be afraid." He gently caressed your thigh as a method to calm you down.

When he saw that you were fine he crawled over to you, sitting on your chest and pointing his erect member in front of you

"You know... seeing you sucking lollipops and popsicles was always a hell of a good sight to see. Your lips working on something so cold and hard, and still not being able to do anything. Well, I think you should pay me for having teased me for so long." He stated, brushing the head of his dick on your tongue "What a sight..." He gently put his dick in your mouth, inch by inch until it reached halfway and stopped.

"So hot and so cozy." Michael groaned and put a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair "Look at me." He ordered and you complied.

The moment you looked into his eyes you felt a thick taste of pre-cum in your mouth.

Slowly Michael pulled his hip back, leaving only his cockhead in your mouth before slowly putting it all back on. He repeated this movement over and over until you got used to it and then he started to fuck your mouth, getting deeper and deeper into your throat and making you choke a few times. Michael fucked your throat with formidable speed as he threw his head back and moaned.

"So perfect." He spoke as he took his dick out of your mouth, bending down and planting a sweet kiss on your lips as well as checking if you were okay, "Let me worship you, my prince." Michael snapped his fingers and soon you were fully naked.

He turned you over and started to kiss your neck gently, making a kiss trail up and down your neck. He slowly went lower and lower, until he reached your ass. He put a hand on each cheek separating them and revealing your hole.

"So beautiful." Was the last thing you heard before feeling something wet and hot touching the perimeter of your hole.

Michael gently brushed you with the tip of his tongue while his rough hands gripped your ass tightly. He wanted to mark you everywhere on your body.

Soon a strange but good feeling started inside you, it was like you were being touched inside and soon a groan escaped your lips.

"What are you doing?" You asked between incessant moans.

"My grace has many uses, Y/N and I heard that stimulating the prostate causes great pleasure. Apparently this is true." He replied as he ate you out.

But this time he didn't lick gently. He was devouring you. Michael's tongue was fast and hungry, exploring the entire perimeter of your hole before penetrating you.

It was too much. The feeling was so overwhelming. Michael's tongue along with his grace made you unable to think.

You felt your orgasm coming real quick, but you couldn't warn Michael in time.

When you were so close to a release everything stopped and you felt something holding your dick.

"Not yet, Y/N. We're going to do this together." Michael said and came out of the middle of your legs, kissing your crack up to your neck. He forced you to look at him and kissed you, "Y/N. My prince, will you give me permission to take you?"

You took a moment to contemplate Michael. The blue-green eyes looked at you with indescribable passion, as if you were a masterpiece that deserved to be contemplated. His mouth curled upward into a smile and his dark hair was so sweaty.

You always thought Michael's vessel was beautiful, but now you can't think of anything more beautiful than him. You no longer see him as young John, but as the person who loved you.

"Y/N? Is everything okay? If I went too far I'm sorry I thought that-"

"No, sorry I was just lost in thoughts." You kissed him on the lips, "Take me, Michael."

He smiled and snapped his fingers.

"As much as the whole preparation process is interesting and important, I am impatient, so why not just use my grace, right?" He winked at you and turned you on your back and positioned himself between your legs.

Michael slowly started to penetrate you until the head of his dick was completely inside of you. He looked at you to check that everything was fine before going in deeper. Inch by inch until he was completely inside. He bent down and started kissing your neck, waiting for you to get used to his size.

Michael then started to move, taking all of his length except his head and then putting everything back on. He repeated the movement over and over, each time with more speed until finally he pounds you.

Michael turned into a moaning mess while he fucked you.

He started kissing you while you moaned against each other.

One of Michael's hands flicked your nipple while another explored and caressed your torso. This along with Michael's accurate hit on your prostate made you moan loudly and Michael smirked.

"Do you think that man from earlier could make you feel the way you're feeling now?" Michael asked, "Do you think he would be able to fuck you the way I fuck you?" You didn't answer the question, but Michael already knew the answer.

Michael's arms wrapped around you and turned you over. Now you were on top of him.

"Ride me, babyboy." He put his hands behind his head and waited for you to start riding him, admiring the view.

Michael had seen countless things in the world. From the paintings of each classic painting to the creation of each of the wonders of the world, but nothing could match the sight he was seeing now.

With your eyes closed and your head thrown back, you moaned and rode him like there was no tomorrow.

Michael moved his hands and placed one on each side of your, guiding you in the movements you were making.

He knew was almost close and knew you would soon be close, too. Michael pulled you against his chest, moving so that he could move his hips so that he could continue to fuck you.

"Y/N," He moaned out," My prince, my soul mate. I love you and I would leave everything for you. Heaven and my grace. You are my everything." Michael declared, but you could barely think with him pounding into you, his dick hitting your prostate constantly.

You felt something warm involving you.

It was Michael's wings.

With a grunt, Michael came inside of you but without stopping his movements.Your battered prostate along with the feeling of Michael's hot cum inside you brought you to your orgasm.

With your orgasm, Michael's movements became more and more slow until he finally stopped with both you panting hard.

Michael kissed you everywhere. On your head, your lips, your forehead, your neck.

His wings still surrounded you.

Michael moved you, putting you aside while he spooned you, his cock still inside you.

A comforting hand gently caressed your thigh, "You are perfect, Y/N. I am eternally grateful that you let me love you." He kissed the back of your neck "Now rest my prince. Tomorrow we will have many things to do." He gave you one last kiss on the back of your neck.

You didn't know exactly what your relationship with Michael would be like now. But honestly you didn't care about that.

All you cared about was the fact that your angel was hugging you with his wings surrounding you.

And nothing else.

#Michael x male reader #Michael x reader #male reader #x male reader #supernatural x male reader #supernatural x reader #young john winchester #supernatural Michael x reader #John winchester x Male reader #John winchester x reader

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fantasmalresplendent · 3 years

Text

Dean died at the ripe old age of 85.

In his lucid moments during the days leading up to his passing, in which Dean was just as sharp and as bright as he was fifty years ago, he remarked that people must think he’d robbed the cradle with a “hot piece” such as Castiel hanging around him.

“You don’t mind that I’m a wrinkly, senile, crotchety old bastard?” Dean had asked, more than once, but he had always said it with a smile. And Castiel would smile back, replying with the same answer the answer many times, in many ways:

“You’re not senile.”

“Old, but not a bastard.”

“I thought I was the crotchety one.”

“I don’t mind.”

Then Dean would smile, and it would light up the room, and Castiel would wonder again how he came to deserve the focus, let alone the affection, of such a man.

“It’s not about deserving, Cas,” Dean had said, half-whispered in the middle of the night a few short months after they had begun to share the bed they laid in. “It’s… fuck, well I don’t know what it’s about. But people don’t get what they deserve, not most of the time.”

Castiel frowned, furrowing his brows. “They should,” he grumbled.

“Well if people got what they deserved, they’d… I don’t know, Sam would’ve actually become a lawyer, stayed in school. Jo, Ellen, Bobby, they’d all still be here. I’d get mauled by a werewolf or something, go out with a bang, and Baby,” Dean said sternly, as though chastising the universe itself for such an injustice, “Would never get so much as a scratch on her.”

“You think that’s what you deserve?” Castiel’s voice was soft, not wanting to disturb the still of the night, but steely as he considered even the possibility of Dean’s violent end.

Dean registered that, swallowing, “I don’t know. I guess I just never thought I’d even make it this far. Hunters have the shortest lifespans of any human subspecies,” Dean cracked a smile, but his heart wasn’t in the joke. Castiel knew Dean was doing the math in his head. He knew Dean was mentally recalling how long it had been since Bobby left for heaven. Tallying up the number of people who were gone because of self-sacrifice, mistakes, pure dumb luck. Counting exactly how many years he had outlived his own mother.

Castiel had wrapped his arms around Dean then, embracing him, surrounding him, and they curled into each other completely. Burying himself in Castiel’s neck, Dean had never felt so close to him, and yet so far away. “You don’t have to follow the same patterns if you don’t want to, Dean,” Castiel stated, as if it were that easy. “Do you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Get mauled by a werewolf?”

Dean sniffed in laughter, and that was answer enough.

Castiel found himself stroking Dean’s hair, an action he felt suited him. He thought for a moment in the stillness and in the space between their breaths. “Maybe it’s idealistic of me, but I still think people should get what they deserve. Even- no, especially you.”

Dean took his time answering, opening his mouth several times before actually saying, “Sometimes I don’t think I know what I deserve.”

“I guess we’ll just have to figure that out together then. We have time,” Castiel kissed Dean’s forehead and he sighed at the touch. “We have plenty of time. Heaven will wait for you, no matter how long.”

Dean looked up at him then with a pout, “You sound pretty confident in that statement for a dude who hasn’t shown up to heavenly chorus practice in a few years.”

Castiel smiled, “I’d rather be here with you. Always have.”

The man blushed. “Well, if I go… I mean, wherever I go… Where will you end up?”

“I could go with you.”

“Where?”

Castiel closed the distance between them fully, thumbing across Dean’s cheek as they kissed. “Anywhere. If you want me there, I will be there, whether it’s here or heaven. I’ll be there.”

“For how long?”

“For however long you want me to be.”

Dean kissed back, his fingers tangling in Castiel’s hair. “Yeah. Okay.”

Sam went not long after Dean. It wasn’t a surprise; it was his time as well. His children were grown, his grandchildren almost grown, Castiel knew they’d miss him but that they’d be all right. And they knew to call on “Uncle Cas” if they weren’t, even the little ones who didn’t understand exactly how they were related, or why Great Uncle Dean's husband was only about as old as their parents.

“I mean I love the little gremlins,” Dean had said, cracking open a beer after a long few days of babysitting Sam and Eileen's girls while the expecting parents were in the hospital. He was exhausted, they both were, but beaming from meeting the newest member of the Winchester clan: a healthy baby boy named Robert. “But have you seen Sam’s house? Goddamn mess in there.”

“You… don’t want to have some of your own?” Castiel had asked carefully, taking the beer Dean held out for him.

“You’re making them sound like trading cards. I don’t know, I- I guess I never thought too hard about it.” Castiel could tell this was a lie by the way Dean didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Wouldn’t know what to do with a kid if I had one.”

“Do you think you’d be a good father?”

Castiel had met John Winchester, in Hell. Well, he hadn’t exactly met him. He had really only passed by John’s cell, stole a glance at the infamous hunter on his way to retrieve Dean’s soul. He’d never told Dean what he saw, they were not close enough at the time. He wasn’t sure if Dean would even want to know. Castiel had almost spoken about it many times, but whenever Dean talked about John, “Dad,” a look crossed over his face, sometimes for only a second. A furrowing of brows, a tight smile, a quick transition to happier subjects.

The same look crossed over Dean’s face as soon as Castiel had asked the question.

“Wow. Um, loaded question there, Cas.”

He waited for Dean to meet his eyes before continuing, “I think you would be.”

“Do- wait,” Dean shook his head, trying to understand where Castiel was going with all of this, “Do you want kids?”

“I want you to live a normal life, Dean. I want to be able to give you what you want.”

“Okay, lots of stuff to unpack here. First of all, a normal life isn’t and never was an option,” Dean leaned back against the counter, “I think we can agree on that. Second of all, you didn’t answer my question.”

“...And third of all?” Castiel prompted.

“No, second of all first. Do you want kids?”

Castiel sighed, taking a swig of his beer, considering his words. “I’m an angel, Dean-”

“Is that so!” Dean raised his eyebrows, then squinted as if in deep thought, “Weird, somehow I never noticed.”

That deserved a well-placed eyeroll, but Castiel still had a point to make. “We don’t- I’m just trying to…” he set his beer down. “I don’t know. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that I would love and care for a child, if it were ours. If we decided that was something we wanted, I would be so happy to raise them, with you. I’d be terrified,” Castiel admitted, “At the enormous and important responsibility, but I would love doing it, if… if it was with you. I just want you to know that, I guess,” Castiel shrugged, “I don’t want you to think it’s not an option for us, if you want it to be.”

“Okay…” Dean was thinking, swirling the beer around his glass. He pointed the mouth at Castiel, “You’re still avoiding my question,” Castiel really rolled his eyes this time, “But I don’t really think it’s for me, all that white picket fence stuff. If you really wanted a kid, I would definitely hit the library and read all those, I don’t know, fucking parenting guides, and take the Mommy and Me classes, whatever. And I think you’d be a good father, better than me, I’d just let them eat gummy worms and shoot slingshots.”

“Children love gummy worms. They listen and will behave better when offered gummy worms,” Castiel knew this for a fact from very recent personal experience, “I don’t see how gummy worms could pose an issue. Slingshots, however-”

“Okay so maybe I’m overestimating your abilities a little,” Dean held up a hand, “But still, I… I like this,” he gestured to the space between them and around them, “I like us. I like waking up to a clean kitchen and sleeping in on weekends. I like not having to ask more than one person whether or not I can take a drive by myself or crank my music really loud at midnight. And I fucking hate Paw Patrol.”

Castiel smiled.

“Sam and Eileen always need babysitters. That’s good enough for me right now.”

“You’ll tell me though, if this is something you really want,” Castiel insisted, “If you think about it and decide something else.”

“Sure.”

“Promise.”

“Okay, fine, I promise,” Dean took a step forward and leaned in for a kiss then. Castiel could taste the beer on Dean’s tongue and sighed. Dean smiled against Castiel’s lips, lowering his voice to a comical level, “We could, uh, you know, try and make some babies,” Dean waggled his eyebrows and Castiel pushed Dean’s laughing face away, but grabbed his hand, turning towards their room.

They hadn’t spoken about it again, not seriously anyway. They got a dog. Dean opened a vintage car garage. Castiel learned how to bake. They took long road trips to the beaches in California, wandered through roadside attractions like Carhenge in Nebraska and Cadillac Ranch in Texas. They bought decidedly way too much merchandise at Oklahoma’s National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum. And maybe they killed the occasional vampire, the wayward poltergeist, but the occasions became less and less. There were younger, more spry hunters on the road now, always welcome at the bunker to look through their library or ask advice on a particularly troublesome spirit. Sam even coerced Dean into holding what became a yearly “conference,” “What are we, a tech startup?” for the next generation of hunters to learn from the legendary brothers.

So maybe they spent more time at home than on the road, but home suited them. Routine suited them like Castiel never could have predicted it would. It wasn’t a white picket fence, but it wasn’t a lonely highway either. Dean would joke about how “boring” they’d become, but Castiel reveled in the repetition. The three hundredth time Dean brought Castiel coffee in bed was just as lovely as the third. The five hundredth time Castiel cooked dinner passed without fanfare, though Dean hugging him from behind, chin hooked over Castiel’s shoulder as he whisked, felt like fanfare enough. The one thousandth kiss they shared was in their bed, lazily breathing each other in as the first beams of sunlight shone through the window after a week of straight rain. Home, a thing he and Dean had never known in their youth, held the majority of their most precious, most banal memories. But still, Castiel always looked forward to those moments speeding down a desert highway when Dean would reach for his hand, turn his head to meet Castiel’s eyes, and smile.

Time took its time with them.

It seemed the opposite with Sam’s children, who grew up faster than Castiel could keep track of. And as they grew from waddling toddlers to full-fledged human beings, Castiel was fascinated, enamored, but Dean was simply proud. He attended their tournaments, their decathlons. He went to their graduations, weddings, barbecues, and Castiel went with him. They took the kids to concerts and movies, parks and shooting ranges, and Castiel never got tired of the smile on Dean’s face when they threw their small arms around Dean’s neck and called him their “Cool Uncle.” “Hear that, Cas? That means you’re the No Fun Uncle. The No-Funcle.”

And as the crowned Cool Uncle, he teased Sam mercilessly about his minivan and his “#1 Dad” mugs, but Castiel knew how proud Dean was of him too. How glad he was that Sam got the future he wanted, and how grateful he was that that future included him.

The brothers still fought. They still bickered, pranked, and glowered. Sam complained that Dean let his kids use power tools too young when they visited, and Dean complained that Sam’s kids were too old to have never heard “Stairway to Heaven.” The usual, the routine, many times over. But they never lied to each other, at least not about the important things, not anymore. And Castiel was welcome in Sam and Eileen’s house and lives, an honor he felt he didn’t deserve, but as Dean said, maybe it wasn’t about deserving.

It was Eileen who noticed Castiel first as he entered the hospital room the day he'd been informed that Sam Winchester was finally coming home. He didn't have to tell Eileen; she saw it on Castiel's face. They’d already spoken, he’d prepared her for the eventuality a few days prior. Eileen smiled, looking back at her husband, teasing him lightly, but Castiel knew she was holding back on her usual snark because Sam looked, well, tired. Turning away from Sam, Eileen signed, “Are you here for him?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, but someone will be here soon.”

“You mean they haven’t given you reaper duty yet?” Sam joked from his horizontal position, speaking and signing with his usual quick wit, but not with his usual articulation. Castiel had seen him argue with Dean for fifty years like it was his job, he was accustomed to the precision with which Sam had always wielded his words. Not today.

“I don’t think I’d be very good at it,” Castiel stepped closer so that Sam wouldn’t have to crane his head, “I’m not very persuasive.”

“No kidding,” Sam shakily clasped Castiel’s hand and grinned. “I’m surprised Dean even went with you.”

“It took less persuading than you’d think.”

“How is he?” Eileen asked, but she was smiling, so she knew the answer.

“He’s good,” Castiel smiled back, “Getting what he deserves.”

Sam smirked, but his head sunk back into his pillow as if relieved. “And I bet he’s complaining about it non-stop. Asshole never knew how to take a vacation.”

“Neither do you,” Eileen levelled her husband with a fond look.

“We’ve taken vacations!”

“You always wanted to go somewhere exotic and then you’d just end up in the library. Remember Berlin?”

“They had… well I wasn’t going to find those editions in America, and-”

Sam and Eileen bickered for a bit, and Castiel did end up backing Eileen’s points more often than not, so eventually Sam recognized that he was outnumbered on this particular case.

Castiel bid his goodbyes just in time as the nurse entered the room to check Sam’s vitals. Her tone was cheerful, but Castiel could tell that she too knew what was coming.

“Well… I’ll see you soon, buddy, huh?” Sam smiled at Castiel as confidently as he could muster for Eileen’s sake, but Castiel knew behind those laugh lines Sam wasn’t so sure of himself. Castiel supposed that worry wasn’t to be unexpected from a chosen one of Hell, Lucifer's vessel, the boy Castiel had once called an “abomination.”

But Castiel smiled, giving Sam’s shoulder one last firm squeeze. “You will.”

When Dean died, at the ripe old age of 85, he knew what to expect.

He’d visited heaven before. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Not an exciting place, but exciting wasn’t necessarily good. Hell had been exciting, and he was in no hurry to return there. Purgatory had been exciting in a different way, years later he swore the stench still lingered on his skin. Sometimes, when he would lose himself in his “senior moments,” he thought he was back in that bloody in between. Or back in hell. Or had gone to heaven. “Times and places are difficult to navigate when your brain’s turning into gummy worms,” he told Cas once. He didn’t remember saying this a few hours later, but that didn’t make it any less true.

His brain was sure full of them gummy worms now as he clung to his body and to his life. He wasn’t completely sure where he was. Bobby’s? The bunker? His childhood home? Sammy had come to see him earlier, at least the kid had looked like Sammy… No, fuck, that was his grand-nephew, Cas had reminded him of that. Sam, his brother Sam, was in the next room. That's right, he’d told the asshole to give him some space, stop smothering him. He sort of wished he was here now though. And Cas, Cas was here, he knew that, but only because the angel was right in front of him. Cas, his friend, was holding Dean’s hand, talking about what their grand-nieces and nephews were doing in school. Dean could swear he already knew these things, but they still sounded new when Cas said them.

Dean looked over at him, and Cas was smiling.

He tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. Cas helped him swallow some cool water. Dean cleared his throat, “Bet you’ve been waiting for this for a while.”

Castiel cocked his head, the smile fading. Fifty some odd years and he still had that same confused look. “Waiting for what?”

“Me to beef it, finally. I know this hasn’t been easy, watching me… seeing me like…” Dean took a shallow breath. “No matter where I go next, at least I won’t be a senile senior citizen.”

“Dean,” Cas said, rubbing the back of Dean’s liver spot-covered hand, “Please listen to me very carefully.”

“Got my hearing aids in, go ahead,” Dean joked.

Cas smiled softly again. “It has been the greatest privilege of my life, my existence, to watch you grow old. I feel honored that you allowed me to experience that. Time’s different for me too,” Cas kissed Dean’s hand, “Space and time were never precious to me, not in the stretch of infinity. Not until you. Not until I was able to see you live your life and live it well.”

Tears welled in the corners of Dean’s eyes. He furiously tried to blink them away, but Cas was already there, dabbing carefully with a handkerchief. “I’m… I’m scared, Cas. I know I shouldn’t be, I’ve seen it all. I’ve beefed it a few times already. But maybe that’s why I’m scared? Because… I know what comes next. What could come next. And this is it, right? No more resets?”

Cas nodded.

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. “If I don’t end up in heaven-”

“You will.”

“If I don’t, that’s fine, maybe it’s what I deserve, and that’s fair. But… will I see you again?”

“Dean,” Cas said sadly, but with his trademarked firmness, “You are going to paradise. And if for some reason, a completely incorrect and insane reason, you don’t? I dragged your soul out of the flames once, I will do it again. I would do it as many times as I needed to.”

Dean shook his head slightly, “Not fair.”

“It’s not about fair. It’s about the truth. Whether you believe it or not, ET goes home.”

Dean chuckled weakly. He was tired. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to let go so badly.

He felt the bed move as Cas climbed under the covers with him. The angel curled around him, enveloping him. Dean could swear he felt the brush of feathers cradling him and pulling him closer, but he couldn’t muster the ability to reach for them, stroke them like he used to. “Sleep, Dean. I’ll be here when you wake up. Wherever, whenever here is. That’s where I’ll be. Wherever you go, I’ll go with you.”

“Swear?”

Castiel kissed his forehead. “I swear.”

Dean opened his eyes.

The phrase, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore” popped into his head, but he suspected, greatly, that he was, in fact, in Kansas. The blowing fields of wheat tipped him off to that.

No, wait. That wasn’t a field, it was a… sandy beach. It looked kind of like that beach he and Cas had stumbled upon driving down the Pacific Coast Highway, what was it called? The one where they’d had to hike down from the lookout point? The one where after they’d trudged back up the trail, they’d sat in the car and looked out over the sea as the sun set? The one where Castiel had smiled at him and the light glinted in his blue eyes and Dean had kissed Cas for the first time ever because he just couldn’t stop himself?

Muir Beach, Dean remembered, blushing at the memory.

But just as soon as he’d reached the end of that thought, it wasn’t the ocean anymore. It was a lake. On the lake was a pier. He’d seen that pier before, couldn’t remember exactly where though.

Then without warning, but without alarm, Dean saw someone standing on the end of the dock. A young man with light brown hair and a sweet smile Dean would recognize anywhere.

Jack waved, walking up casually, “Hey, Dean.”

Dean grinned and pulled him into a solid hug. “Jack. I missed you buddy, how have you been? Where, uh… are we in…”

Jack chucked, “I think you know where we are.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know know, this could… I could be dreaming or some shit, and I guess even in a dream you could say whatever I wanted you to say, so-”

“Dean,” Jack stopped him, “This is heaven. You are in heaven.”

A relieved but small smile spread over Dean’s face. “Cool…”

“I’m not usually here to meet people who pass on, but we weren’t going to miss your arrival.”

“We?”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turned around. There was Cas, beaming at him.

“Cas…” Dean reached to embrace him too, only now noticing that the hands that reached out were not as wrinkled as they’d been when he last saw them. He hugged Cas tightly, relieved more than he wanted to admit. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Cas’s hand went to Dean’s cheek, holding him in a kiss. They separated, foreheads resting against each other. Cas’s eyes twinkled, “We had an appointment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean took a step back, seeing Jack grinning out of the corner of his eye. “Is, uh… is anyone else coming? Or is this the welcoming party?”

“They’re all waiting for you,” Cas put his hand down, and as he did, it was stopped mid-air, as if resting on something solid. Dean blinked, and there was Baby, new as the day she was made, parked on a long, long road that stretched far out of sight. “Any time you’re ready,” Cas tossed something in Dean’s direction, “we can go.”

Dean caught the keys on instinct, they jingled on the simple ring.

Any time you’re ready, we can go.

He twirled them around the end of his finger a couple times, a thought itching at his brain. Or a couple dozen thoughts.

Cas gave him a look, then turned to Jack, “Could you give us a moment?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get everything ready,” Jack blipped out.

“Get what ready?” Dean asked.

“Dean,” he turned around to face Cas whose brows were knit in worry, bright blue eyes narrowed, “Are you okay?” Dean realized he hadn’t seen Cas clearly for a few years, not since before the cataracts. He’d never gotten completely used to that piercing gaze.

Dean blinked. “Yeah, I… I just… I’m here. Really here.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“And… you’re here.”

Cas gave him that look like he was being patient on purpose, “Yes, Dean.”

“And… fuck,” Dean stood at sudden attention, “I left Sam down there, is he okay?”

Catching Dean's hands in his own, Cas rubbed comforting circles into Dean's skin. "Sam is fine. He was there when you left. That's why I was a little late, Eileen had only just gotten home and I didn't want to leave before she could be there beside him.

"Okay," Dean took a deep breath, concentrating on the physical contact, grounding himself in Cas’s movements, "Okay. I mean I know he's gonna be fine, he was always fine without me," Dean said, almost to himself.

"And you'll see him soon."

The abrupt return of Dean’s panicked look made Cas smile a little, shake his head, "Not that soon, Dean. Don't worry."

"Right. Of course, yeah,” Dean looked around, down the road, the back to his car, out past the waving grain that had returned inexplicably. “Well,” Dean flashed what he thought was a very convincing smile, letting Cas’s hands go as he tossed the keys once and caught them, heading towards the car, “Time to hit the road, huh?”

"Wait,” the suspicious squint was back as Cas caught Dean’s arm, “Something else is bothering you."

Dean turned around, and the ocean was back. The ocean he’d taken a trip to see, had selfishly insisted Cas come along for the ride for.

He sighed. "I just…” Dean ran a hand through his hair, “I don't know, I guess it just don't sit right that I’m… I'm gonna see Mom and Bobby and Jo and Charlie and… everyone. How am I going to look them in the face and not feel guilty that I got decades that they’ll never have? And what did I do with that time, sit on my ass? Judge local car shows? Go to freaking baseball games?"

Cas nodded slowly, simply listening. He then hopped up and sat on the hood of the Impala, shoes and all. Dean shot him an offended look.

“She’s a memory of a car, Dean,” Cas rolled his eyes, “She isn’t going to dent.” He patted the spot next to him.

Dean hesitated, but under Cas’s stare, relented. When he was settled, Castiel laced their fingers together.

“I’ve been trying to convince you for all the time I’ve known you that you’re worthy. That you deserved to be saved. That you deserved to rest.” Cas looked down at their entwined hands, “I don’t think I ever really succeeded.”

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

“You don’t have to apologize. I know you’ve been doing a thankless job ever since you carried Sam out of your burning home. Shit, even before that,” Dean cocked his head, Cas hardly ever cursed, “you were always trying to be the hero for your mother. Some people are at fault for that,” Cas’s eyebrows furrowed briefly, “but it’s human nature to be hard on ourselves and praiseworthy of others. You, in your limited experience, could not possibly know all of the things that you’ve done that have made a difference. But we’re-”

Jack suddenly blipped into existence, giving Castiel two big thumbs up, then blipped out again.

Dean turned, looking from the space Jack had stood back to Cas then back again, “What-”

Cas shook his head with a smile, “I could never tell you exactly what you’ve meant to the world. But we had a, uh, few volunteers that wanted to show you.”

“Cas, could you quit monologuing for a second and-”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw movement. The endless sea became endless plains which became endless trees, the landscape changing at a rapid rate.

Dean looked back to Cas in confusion, but he didn’t look alarmed. He gave Dean a timid smile, kissed him behind his ear, and whispered, “Just watch.”

Dean watched. For a moment, the scenery couldn’t seem to decide what it wanted to be. Then, it decided not to decide. Grains of sand took the form of towering trees, a picnic table, a bench. Green lake water formed the shape of a small boy, hunched over and scribbling on the table. Lastly the wheat twirled and spun and became an all-too-familiar-looking young man wearing a jacket too big for his frame, walking over to the bench and sitting down across from the kid.

Lucas. The name came to Dean from deep in his memory, he was that quiet kid who drew Dean pictures of the ghost in the lake. The grain animated Dean’s smile as he talked, the figure of Lucas showed Dean his sketches. Their forms dissolved as the scene changed and Dean's form was pulling Lucas out of the water, the sheriff having paid his due.

The figure of Dean left, but Lucas stayed and was joined by his mother, Dean remembered her too. They embraced, and the figure of Lucas grew, changed into a young man, a husband, a father. Soon a half dozen figures were standing there, waving to Dean, and then they disappeared, melting back into water. Lucas was the last to go as he was the first to arrive. He signed a phrase to Dean, and Dean knew the words: Thank you, Dean Winchester.

Then the sand reformed into a schoolgirl, the shapes in the green water plaguing her with images of mirrors and Bloody Marys until Dean stepped in front of her, holding a mirror of grain in front of the cruel, refracted specter. It dissolved, and Dean’s form bade goodbye, but the girl remained. She grew too just like the boy did, becoming a professor, graduating with honors, writing dozens of books, and changing dozens of lives. She smiled, and waved, and dissolved as well.

The shapeshifters appeared next, the sand in the form of Sam’s friend Zach, his sister Becky, and even Dean’s false shifter form, but the true form in the too-large jacket blew them all away, leaving Becky waving goodbye. She too welcomed a family that appeared by her side, and they all looked so happy and grateful to have each other.

Again and again the scenes changed. Green waters showed the cities he had passed through, the homes that were kept from destruction, entire communities that were healed. The water formed and reformed into smiling faces and waving hands. Some of the people, Dean had known on Earth. Many of the places, Dean had remembered driving through. Most of the people and places, however, were foreign to Dean. He lost count of the number of strangers who appeared, the cities he’d never been to. He struggled to keep track as they cycled faster and faster, as numerous as the grains of sand and droplets of water they were made of. It seemed that a whole generation of people, all over the world, would-be victims of an apocalypse they never even knew was happening, knew him. Through words and cheers and song, they retold the tales of Dean and Sam Winchester, the tales they had only learned once they had passed on.

Throughout all of this, Cas pressed his shoulder to Dean’s, his presence grounding but not distracting. Dean’s grip on Cas’s hand grew tighter and tighter. Cas did not let go.

Eventually, the images and figures departed. The sand blew away, the waters swirled and dispersed, and the landscape made its final decision. Only a simple field of golden wheat remained, waving and rippling in the wind.

Only in that newfound silence did Dean notice he was crying. He shook his head, wiping the tears away furiously.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, and Dean turned to face him, vision blurred, Cas looking at him pleadingly. “You sacrificed so much for so many for so long. You don’t have to be strong right now. You don’t have to be strong ever again if you don’t want to. You have done enough.”

Castiel wiped an errant tear from Dean’s cheek, holding his face between his hands firmly, tenderly.

“You are, and always were, enough. Your job is done. Let. Go.”

Dean did.

Cas silently pulled Dean into his shoulder as he sobbed. Dean didn’t even know why he was crying, didn’t know what for. Maybe he was happy. Maybe he was grieving. Maybe he just felt… relief. He wasn’t sure the last time he felt such relief. He wasn’t sure he ever had truly felt it.

After some time, longer than he’d like to admit, Dean sniffed, wiped one hand over his face, and raised his head. Cas was waiting for him, looking at him with care. With love.

“I, uh… I don’t gotta sign any autographs, do I?”

Cas smiled, and pulled Dean in for a kiss. They stayed like that for a bit on the hood of the car, feeling the breeze, breathing in the fresh air. Dean thought he could hear music coming from somewhere, realizing that it was the car’s radio playing softly from the cab. He knew that any time he wanted, he could hop down from the hood of his car, slide into the driver’s seat with the love of his life on the passenger’s side, and carry on his wayward way. Down the road, through the endless fields, towards the ones he had loved and lost. But not yet, not quite yet, because he had time. Maybe in the end, time was all he had ever really wanted, even if he could never allow himself to ask for it.

Infinity stretched out in front of him like the fields of grain. It wasn’t an exciting infinity, but it was his. It was a long road, a family that waited for him, a shoulder to lean on. It was, at long last, a place to lay his weary head to rest.

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fix it #destiel fic #like fields of grain #this is on ao3 but i know if I post an external link tumblr will nuke it so #if you can't tell #I'm taking canon hostage and forcing it to pay reparations

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Episode 15 Transcript: 5'3" Dean Winchester Truthing

[intro guitar music]

G: Hello, my name is Grey.

C: And my name is Crystal.

G: And this is Busty Asian Beauties, the Supernatural commentary podcast where I, someone who has seen this show, several times…

C: And I, someone who only knows the show through social media, discuss every single episode of Supernatural from start to finish. Also, we are both Asian.

G: Both Asian!

G: So for today's episode, we will be discussing Season 1, Episode 15, “The Benders,” written by John Shiban, directed by Peter Ellis. It's him again.

C: Agh, fucking John Shiban again!

G: Yeah. Uh, if you guys- can we talk about the face gradient here? [laughing]

C: Yes.

G: To the audience of this episode, if you go to our socials and scroll through enough, you'll find-

C: -a post made by lesbianmarywinchester of basically, the faces of all the white man Supernatural writers in a sort of gradient to see who looks most similar to who. And it looks amazing. It's like, the power of it, the hard work behind it. Just incredible.

G: [laughing] Yes, the conceptualization and execution are both excellent. You guys should see it. It's so fucking funny. And now, every single time John Shiban shows up, or literally any writer shows up, I'll be like, "Oh, where are they in the gradient?" [laughing] Because it's so fucking funny.

C: John Shiban's in this nice little center spot here.

G: Yes, our friend called it the McElroy area.

C: [laughing] Oh, god, it literally is.

G: Okay, so, before going in, Crystal, what did you know about this episode?

C: Not very much. I knew that this was an episode without any supernatural creatures, so it was one of those "people are the real monsters" episodes. And I already0 and I also knew that there was a girl in it who was evil, but I didn't really know anything else about her, so I was disappointed that she didn't have more of a role.

C: So we're opening in Hibbing, Minnesota. Basically, we see a kid watching TV in his room, and then he looks outside, and there's some guy in a parking lot, and he's walking towards his car. There's some weird sound under it, so he looks down, and we don't see what he sees, but he freaks out and then gets pulled under the car and is still screaming. And then he sort of disappears. And then the boy upstairs just shuts his windows. [G laughs]

I think we're supposed to think he's scared, but he literally just looks like a stone-cold bitch. Like, he's like, "Not my fucking problem."

G: Yeah, he's like, "I don't care. Mm-hm." And then closes the window!

C: Yeah.

G: We fade in to Sam and Dean talking to the kid and the kid's mother. They're dressed up in-

C: [laughing] little sheriff outfits-

G: Yes!

C: - like it's Halloween. They look so funny.

G: They're talking to the kid, and the mother is kind of insistent that they don't want to talk, because the more they talk about it, the more the kid will believe what he saw. But Sam and Dean are doing their usual bit of "You just tell us whatever you saw, and we'll accept it, no matter what," so the kid does that, basically relays what happened, like, what Crystal just said. And the mother is like, standing unconvinced on the side, and then asks the kid, "You saw all those creepy things happen, what were you watching while the creepy things were happening?" And the kid says, "Oh, I was watching Godzilla vs Mothra." Which then sparks Dean's interest so much that he goes on a tangent about how it's the better Godzilla movie and that Sam likes the remake, and his taste sucks ass because he likes the remake. Which I guess I don't get because I haven't these watched movies .

C: Yeah, I haven't seen this franchise either, but it was a cute moment.

G: We're terrible Supernatural fans. As a Supernatural fan, you can, should, and must watch every single movie that Dean mentions.

Oh, and then the kid says, finally--this is the only important part of this conversation--that when the monster went away, it produced a whining growl.

C: So now we're at a bar. And apparently it's called Kugel's Keg, but it looked like it said "Kugel's Kec," like, the misspelled anime laugh. Dean is throwing darts, Sam's just chillin', and they're discussing the case. Dean thinks that it might just be a regular kidnapping, but Sam says that John's journal mentioned that this area had a lot of missing people, the most missing people per capita, like, out of all the counties in the US or something? Ooh, talk nerdy to me, Sam. And then they think that there's a phantom attacker that grabs people. And Dean's like, "Okay, yeah, sure, we can look into it tomorrow," but Sam wants to go to the motel and go to sleep. Dean thinks that this is unnecessary and wants to keep hanging out at the bar, and he calls Sam grandma for wanting their fun to be over so fast. He tells Sam to head out and that he'll meet him there, but he has to pee first.

And like, he's heading to the bathroom, which has this like, neon sign on it that says "Men's," and like... I don't know. [laughing] Something- something about Dean heading to a neon-lit men's bathroom in a bar just makes me really think that he, like, made some eye contact with a guy earlier at the bar today and is like, heading back there for a little fun.

G: Oh, come on. [laughs]

C: Okay, listen. Later- later, right? Like, Sam goes missing, and Dean goes outside, and he's like, "Oh no, where's Sam?"-

G: Yeah. It's been an hour.

C: And then he goes around asking people, "Have you seen anything-" yeah, "Have you seen anything in the last hour?" Like, Dean either has IBS or was sucking a dick, okay? [G laughing] Like, and I think that he was sucking a dick. Like, I- I just know it. I know it in my heart that he was sucking a dick. Like, I don't care what John Shiban meant here, but I know it.

G: I just realized, when I said "Oh, come on" earlier, I sounded like such a fucking homophobe. [C laughing] Please don't persecute me.

C: [laughing] I'm making a new tab on the spreadsheet for Grey homophobia moments.

Dean should be allowed to suck as many dicks in men's bathrooms as he wants. Love is love.

G: So Dean goes outside--no, no, no. So Sam goes outside--

C: Sam. Dean's sucking a dick.

G: [laughing] Yeah, while Dean is in the men's bathroom. He is walking towards the car when he hears a noise, so he turns on his flashlight, and then he bends down to look under the car where the noise is coming from. And we think he's gonna get grabbed, and it's all suspense music, but it's just a cat! It's a cat, and the cat is like, hissing at him.

C: Yeah. It's a cute cat.

G: Yeah. So he does a little laugh, which was so adorable. He looks so good.

C: Yeah, no, it's really cute. He looks really relieved and sweet, yeah.

G: Too bad he gets kidnapped immediately after. [C laughs]

C: [imitating Dean] My brother would give you this puppy dog look, and you would just kidnap him immediately.

G: So he gets up and then he proceeds to go to the car, at which point he just puts down this little folder that he has of the case on the side of the car. And then we go to a shot of his feet like, from below the car, which is supposed to tell us that somebody's watching him and somebody's about to grab him.

We cut to later, where Dean is walking out from the bar. And he walks towards the car, and then he sees the folder that Sam left behind. He realizes that Sam was missing. [laughs] He starts talking to the people who are going out of the bar. He's asking them if they've seen anyone within the last hour.

C: Hour!

G: He looks up, and he sees a surveillance camera. And then he's like, "Oh, okay, that's a clue. That can tell me where Sam is." And then he keeps on looking around, and he says, "Sam!" And then we cut to black.

C: You know that Tweet that's like, "Supernatural is just 15 years of two brothers stumbling around-"

G: Going, "Sam!"

C: "Crying, like, yeah, like crying drunk girls at a bar looking for each other"? Literally. "Sam! Dean! Where are you?"

C: Yeah, so now we're at a police department, and Dean's talking to a cop, who, I think we later find out her name is Kathleen. He's impersonating a guy called Gregory Washington, and he's saying that he's covering a missing persons case. He's looking for his cousin, who went missing by a bar last night. Kathleen asks if Sam has a drinking problem, and he says, "Sam? Two beers, and he's doing karaoke," which is- which is very cute. Also, do we never get to see Sam sing in all of Supernatural?

G: No, I don't think so.

C: But don't they let Dean sing, like, twice?

G: They let Dean sing in season 10 jokingly.

C: Right, the "I'm too sexy for my shirt."

G: Yeah, and season 15, seriously. Like, they let him sing for realsies.

C: Oh, yeah, 'cause fucking Jensen Ackles was trying to promote Radio Company or some shit.

G: [laughs] Yeah, all I could think of while saying that was that one post by one of our mutuals that was like-

C: Yes! Yes, the one about Mick Jagger?

G: Like, okay, we'll repeat the post. But the post goes like, "You know that- you know that joke that John Mulaney has about how Mick Jagger was like, in a stadium for fifty years with people shouting his name? That's basically what happened to Jensen Ackles," and that's all that person can think about every time Jensen Ackles sings. That's also all I can think about now. [both laugh]

C: Yeah, ugh, it's not fair that we never get to see Sam do karaoke. Like, oh god, I want to watch Sam just like, belt Celine Dion. Like, we deserved that; Sam deserved that; we all deserve it.

G: I mean, Jared can play the guitar, so like, we could have had a moment where Sam played-

C: Jared's not a real person, so I don't see how that's relevant, but I see.

G: [laughing] No, I know this because I saw a post once that's like, "aw, poor Jared, he's so insecure about his guitar skills, but everyone else is so supportive!" [C laughing] And it's like, a picture- it's like, a video of like, the cast like, huddling around him while he plays the guitar and like, hyping him up. [laughing] And it's so fucking funny! Like, I watched it, and I was like, "This is- I don't- like, what am I doing with my life?"

C: So Kathleen asks for the full name of the missing person. Dean says, "Sam Winchester," and she asks, "Like the rifle?" Is this the first time that we hear about the name inspiration here?

G: I think so, yeah.

C: Well, that's fun, I guess. They were like, "Well, eventually we need to point out how clever we were when we came up with the names for these characters, may as well do it now." So Kathleen types Sam's name into a computer, and there's a Sam Winchester record and [laughing] a Dean Winchester record. And immediately we go, "Uh-oh."

And then we finally find out why no one has tried to arrest Dean in the many episodes since "Skin." It's because everyone thinks he's dead for realsies. So, I guess Dean's safe.

So Kathleen brings up that Dean is suspected of murder, and Dean says, "Oh, yeah he was kind of the black sheep of the family. [in unison] Handsome, though." [both laugh] God, you're insufferable.

Dean's like, "Okay, well, can I look at the surveillance camera by the highway? Maybe it'll show us some clues." Kathleen makes him fill out a missing persons report. And Dean starts his wheedling that will continue through this episode where he's like, "He's my family, I look out for the kid, you have to let me go with you, you have to let me help." When she's resistant, he mentions that none of the missing people so far have ever come back. And then, "Sam's my responsibility, and he's coming back. I'm bringing him back."

Kathleen's showing Dean the photos from the surveillance camera, and basically, around the time that Sam disappeared, there was a rusty truck driving away [G starts laughing] that was- [laughs]

G: [laughing] Ever since the finale, every time anyone says the word "rusty"-

C: The word "rusty" just hurts you?

G: Yeah. Yeah.

C: There's a [laughs] rusty truck, and there's- the license plate on it looks completely new, so the truck was probably stolen. And, so that means that Sam was probably kidnapped by someone driving that truck. And just as that's being discussed, some old van is driving by, and it sounds like a high-pitched whining noise. And Dean's like, "Oh, that was the high-pitched shrieking that the kid was talking about that sounded like a monster."

G: It was a car.

C: Oh my god, it's another monster truck! [G laughs]

G: Sam wakes up in a- like, this dingy-as-shit cage in like, the middle of a barn. And he looks around, and he sees that there's other cages in the barn, and in one of the cages, there is a guy sleeping. So he starts rattling the cage, and he starts trying to kick it down. In a scene that- where he looks super hot. [laughing]

C: Yeah, no, he's strong and his knuckles are kind of bloody. Like, hi. He's like, doing fucking chin-ups on the cage.

G: Yeah, he's wearing just a shirt, and you can see his pecs through it, and he looks good.

C: Yeah, there's a- there's a scene in the Sam "Slumber Party" AMV, I think, that's about- on like, a line about his titties, that I think comes from this episode. [laughs] He's suffering horribly and being kidnapped. That. [both laughing]

G: But he looks good!

C: He does.

G: While he's kicking down the cage, the guy from the other cage wakes up from the noise. And Sam realizes that this guy is Alvin Jenkins. So like, the guy from earlier who went missing and they're looking for. He tells the guy that like, he's looking for him, and the guy immediately is like, "Oh, you're doing a piss-poor job of looking for me," so we know that this Jenkins guy is fucking insufferable.

C: I mean, he's in a cage. He's been in a cage for a while. I get it.

G: Yeah, I mean, yes, but like, they really make a point of making him like, not listen. That was his personality type.

Sam asks like, "Do you know where we are?" And Jenkins says, "We're in the middle of nowhere. It smells like the country." And Sam asks, like, "Have you seen the people who took you? What do they look like?"

C: Well, "Have you seen what took you," right?

G: Yeah, yeah. What took you. Like, he's very adamant about the whole "what" thing. And I guess maybe because I don't like, in regular conversation, it's not like I speak English fully. If someone asked me, like, "What took you?" I wouldn't even bat an eye. So, like, Jenkins being like, "What are you talking about? What are you talking about?" Like, just say "they're people" or something, like, "They're wearing hoods."

C: Yeah, but they really wanted to build up the suspense.

G: The barn door opens, and two men wearing black coats walk in. So their heads are covered and everything. And they're carrying big wooden sticks, which they start hitting the cages with, while the other person like, unlocks the cages. And it's important to know the cages are locked and unlocked through this electric mechanism. So, it's not a key. No, actually it is a key. How would you describe the lock?

C: There's a key, but there's also some kind of electric mechanism. Well, I don't really know.

G: Yeah. Like, the keyhole is very far from the cage, so it's not like Sam and Jenkins can just reach the keyhole and pick it.

They start hitting the cage to make Jenkins move away, and then they open the cage and give him food. They do the same to Sam's cage.

C: Did Sam get food? I didn't see him get food.

G: Oh, really? But they hit Sam's cage as well.

C: They just hit him, like, for fun.

G: Noo! That's so sad! I'm so sorry, Sam.

C: More foreshadowing for Sam in cages.

G: They go out, and Sam is in shock. He's like, "Oh my god, I'll be damned, they're just people!" So they continue talking about the circumstances of the cage, so, when do they feed Jenkins, etc. etc.

What's Ned Beatty? Do you know what that is?

C: Yeah, so I didn't understand the reference either, so I looked it up. And he's an actor, and I think one of his most famous roles is like, one where he gets kidnapped and raped by a bunch of like, random country guys. So, yep.

C: 'Cause later he calls them "a bunch of psycho hillbilly rednecks looking for love in all the wrong places," so he's very fixated on them being lower-class country people who are also gay and rapists. Like, that's- that's sort of what Jenkins thinks is going on.

G: So Sam is unconvinced by this, like, this remark that "it's Ned Beatty time." Jenkins, like, asks like, "If that's not what's gonna happen, what do they want?" And Sam says, "Oh, I don't know." Then we cut back to Kathleen and Dean.

C: They're driving along, trying to find where Sam was taken. And they know that the truck was not caught by a certain traffic camera, but it was caught by one earlier, so it must have turned off into a side road somewhere in between. Meanwhile, something comes up on Kathleen's computer, and she realizes something. So she's like, "hey, Dean," or, sorry, "hey, Gregory-"

G: [laughing] Succession/Supernatural crossover.

C: Noo! Yeah, "hey, Cousin Greg," I ran your badge number-

G: [laughing] And it says here you work at ANT! Is that the name of the- I forgot. Whatever.

C: ATN is the name of the news network, but it's- yeah, doesn't he not work with the ATN section? I thought he worked with the parks.

G: Oh, you haven't watched enough Succession.

C: Yeah, so she says, "hey, Cousin Greg, uh, quick question, I just looked up your badge, and it says that it was stolen, and also there's a picture of you," and it's like, it's clearly not him. It's like, an older, heavier Black man. [both laughing] And Dean says, "I lost some weight. And I've got that Michael Jackson skin disease." "Mr. Yamashiro's son," part two.

G: [still laughing] I genuinely laughed out loud when he said that. I was like, "Okay, this is funny."

C: Kathleen's like, "Okay, get out of the car time, to arrest you," and Dean goes like, "Hey, that's fine, I'll cooperate, but like, please, first, let me find Sam." Um, Kathleen's not allowing him, and Dean says, "Look into my eyes and tell me if I'm lying about this," which is just so fucking funny. Every time Dean tries to convince people of things, it's so fucking funny. Like, he just seems to think that, like, if he meow-meows it up, like, people will just automatically understand him and be on his side.

G: And he's like- he's really into the "look into my eyes," because he does it with Cas too, right?

C: Yeah, yeah, he does it in "The Man Who Would be King," right?

C: Yeah, yeah. Yeah. I can't believe it worked with Kathleen.

C: I mean, I get it, 'cause- her brother, right? Like, that- that's why.

G: Yeah, like, they- they did, like, some exposition and some backstory, but like, even then, it's like, this man can be dangerous.

C: Yeah, it- I mean, I think- she takes a little while to trust him, so I think that that- like, it was unrealistic, but I could somewhat believe it. And also, he's unarmed. I feel like if he had a gun on him, like, she would probably act completely differently.

Kathleen's not budging still. Even though she looked into Dean's eyes and everything! [G laughs] Like, how could she still not? [laughs]

Right, so Dean's, like, tearing up a little, and he says, "Look, here's the thing. When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire. And ever since then, I've felt responsible for him. Like it's my job to keep him safe. I'm just afraid if we don't find him fast," and like, his throat starts getting all clogged, and he's like, crying harder, he's like, "Please. He's my family." He's so pathetic. It's fun to watch.

And Kathleen's like, "Nuh-uh, gonna arrest you," but then she sees a photo in her car, and it's of her and her brother, and she looks sad, and she's like, "Ugh, I've changed my mind." So she's like, "Okay, fine, we can go find Sam."

G: We go to back to Sam and Jenkins. And Sam is trying- so he's trying to pull this thing that is like, a metal pipe/wire/whatever from above his cage. And Jenkins is like, "Oh, what's your name again?" And Sam's like, "It's Sam," and then Jenkins say- Jenkins says, uh, "Give it up, Sammy, there's no way out." And Sam says, "Don't- [gasps] call me Sammy."

C: Yeah, it's so good. 'Cause after Jenkins said that, I paused the episode to write down the note "Don't call him Sammy!" and Sam said it right after.

G: Like, immediately after he says that, the metal pipe/wire/whatever gets pulled down, and a small piece of metal falls to the floor. And then Sam picks it up and says, "Oh, it's a bracket." [laughs]

C: I don't know what that is. I don't know how metal tools and parts work.

G: Yeah, me too. I just find it so funny that he was like, "Oh my god, it's a bracket." Like, obviously, a bracket is holding up that thing. Like, you probably- you probably saw it before it fell. But whatever. And then Jenkins, like, you know, extremely pessimistic, he's like, "Oh, what are we gonna do with the bracket?"

Suddenly, the cage unlocks. Jenkins's cage. Sam's remains locked. Jenkins realizes that when Sam was pulling the thing, he must have shorted something. So he gets out of the cage, and Sam immediately is like, "You have to get back in there. This seems too easy." But Jenkins doesn't listen. He says that he's gonna ask for help, he's gonna get out of here, and he's gonna send people back for Sam. So he gets out.

C: Jenkins is walking outside. It's like, some kind of muddy woods area, and there's this house that looks pretty beat down. He finds this little knife on the ground, and he says, like, "thank you" to God. Which is quite ironic when we later find out that the weapons are deliberately left out by the Benders to make the hunt more fun. So, he's walking through the woods, and then he hears noises, and it's like, creepy laughter and whooping. As he starts- it starts raining, also, and he's running, and there's some guy in camouflage who jumps him. Jenkins stabs him and then keeps running, but then some other guy shows up and shoves a knife through Jenkins's leg. Jenkins is now running away. Okay, also, at this point, we notice that the men- they're in camouflage, and also they have like, what, like, mud smeared on their faces for the camouflage.

G: Yeah.

C: But like, for a second, I like, thought it was legit blackface, and I was like, "What the fuck." But, no. It's still quite uncomfortable.

G: Yeah. I think the intention was like- actually, I don't know. To make them look dirty, I guess?

C: Yeah, I mean, I feel like it was for camouflage, so like, like their skin wouldn't like, reflect the moonlight very much. But it kind of just- it was it was highly uncomfortable to look at.

G: Mm-hm.

C: So Jenkins is still running. The two men are still like, laughing at him and chasing him. Jenkins seems to be starting to get away, but then we see that there's this tripwire on the ground, and he stumbles over it and falls. Jenkins is now on his back on the ground. The two men rise up above him with knives like, ready to stab him in the chest. It cuts to Sam, but we can hear Jenkins scream.

G: So, we go to Dean and Kathleen holding coffee. Which I find so funny, that like, Kathleen, look, this felon is-

C: I'll buy him coffee!

G: Yeah, let's buy coffee! Let's have some coffee.

So Dean says, like, "I don't mean to press my luck, but..." And then Kathleen is like, "Oh, your luck is so pressed." And this is like, a recurring thing that Dean says throughout the episode. So that's fun.

And Dean asks, like, "Why are you helping me out, anyway?" Kathleen then reveals her backstory, which is that, three years ago, her brother Riley went missing, just like Sam. They were not able to find him. She says, I know what it feels like to feel responsible for someone, and for them... and then she cuts herself off. And then she says, "Come on. Let's keep at it."

So they pull over to like, a little side road. Dean like, steps out of the car, but Kathleen tells him that he's not coming with her. But Dean is like, insisting that, "No, I'll go with you, I'll go with you, it's fine, it's fine." So Kathleen, like, makes him promise that they would go together, but Dean will let Kathleen take the lead and won't do anything that will, you know, harm them, etc etc. Kathleen tells Dean to shake on it. So as Dean goes in for the shake, she cuffs him, and then attaches him to the car, and then walks away.

C: It's fun. I enjoyed that.

G: This is like, a common thing that people do, right? Like, in media, at least.

C: I feel like it is. Yeah, like, I've seen it happen in plenty of shows. Dean should have watched even more TV than he already does to avoid falling for that one.

C: Kathleen's now walking into the woods and sees the house that we saw earlier. She knocks on the door, and a little girl comes out. She's got like, straggly hair, and she's like, got dirt on her. She's like a perfect little evil horror girl. Her vibes are impeccable.

Yeah, she seems to not really be used to interaction with people, or just sort of is talking kind of awkwardly. Kathleen asks who she is, and the girls, "Who are you?" Kathleen introduce herself, and the girl says, that her name is Missy, and that her mom is dead, and her dad's not home. Kathleen asks if she can come in, but Missy says no, and Kathleen is like, "Okay, then like, here," and shows her picture of Sam and is like, "Have you seen this guy?" And Missy start smiling.

G: Yes! Go, Missy!

C: Kathleen's like "What?" And Missy says, "That's gonna hurt." And behind Kathleen, this guy hits her in the head with a shovel, and she falls on the ground. It's so good.

G: Yeah, it's so fun.

C: And, yeah. Yeah. The dad's like, "Hey, Missy, go tell your brothers that I want to see them," and Missy in her like, evil little evil girl voice is like, "Yes, Daddy," and walks away.

This is an episode where I really wish I'd watched a lot more horror media than I have. 'Cause like, I feel like this is definitely borrowing from a lot of iconic movies out here, and I just don't know what they are. Have you watched much horror?

G: I haven't seen much horror 'cause it's not my jam, but I have played Red Dead Redemption, as we know, because I love mentioning this video game.

C: Yeah. Right.

G: But it's just that, you know, there are two American things that I'm really into that are like, defined by their American-ness. And it's Supernatural and Red Dead Redemption.

C: Right.

G: So, like, this episode is like, the combination of the two. Because it's like, backwoods America.

C: Um, I definitely like this episode from a horror perspective. I do, I think, have a bit of an issue with, like, backwoods horror and the way that the Benders are portrayed.

G: Mm-hm.

C: Like, you know, like, during the hunt. The brothers laugh. They don't talk. We don't hear the Benders talk until way later in the episode. Like, they're portrayed in a very animalistic way, which is like fine and fun because, like, they're hunters or whatever, but like, I don't know. Just their whole portrayal feels quite classist. The way that Jenkins, is like, "Ah, fucking country people, blah blah blah," the way Dean later makes a joke about like, country people like, engaging them incest, like, it's just all... yeah, I don't know. Like, can't they just be people? Can't they just be people?

G: Yeah, like, this is what I'm going to say. Like, for an episode where the whole point is that people are fucking monsters, you really made a point to make the people as un-people-like as you possibly can.

C: Right. And like, specifically, like, poor, and unsanitary because they're poor.

G: Yes.

C: Like, I don't know. I just think that like, for example, I know that season 7 has like, attempts some kind of anti-capitalism rhetoric with Dick Roman being the bad guy, but like, Derek Roman is a Leviathan. Like, he's a monster who literally devours people, and they sort of use that as like, a metaphor for capitalism or whatever, but like, here where they're having actual people be monsters, yeah, they're making them as un-person as possible. Like, I wish- I wish that if they were doing an episode about people being monsters, that it would be about like, power and wealth making people monstrous, not just like, these people being quote unquote "crazy" as Dean keeps calling them.

G: So we cut to a scene that is often giffed. A while ago, we were just talking about Dean sucking dick but like, [laughs] I see this scene like, giffed a lot so that it looks like Dean's dick is getting sucked. So like, good for him.

C: [laughing] I don't think I've seen this.

G: You haven't? I'll try to look for that and show you. [C laughs] But like, basically, the scene is, Dean is trying to figure out how to unlock his cuffs. So he's reaching out to the side of the car for the antenna off the bar. So he's reaching out for that, and it's like, kind of comedic because, like, he can't reach it, and it's quite funny, and he's stretching a lot. But then, he starts hearing noises basically going through his direction, and he realizes that "the people probably took Kathleen and are gonna take me now."

So he very urgently like, gets the wire and and picks his cuffs, but the brothers are getting nearer and nearer. And it's like, a little suspense, like, "Are they gonna catch Dean? Are they not gonna catch Dean?" But they don't because Dean was able to uncuff himself and run away.

Jared and Lee, which are the two brothers that are hunting these people-

C: [laughing] It's so funny that one of them is named Jared.

G: Yeah.

- Go into the car, and then they're laughing and talking about how they've never seen their father that angry before, but, also, the police have never followed them before, so this is a first for them.

C: So now we're back to the barn, and Kathleen's there in a cage. They've like, taken her uniform, and her hair's all messed up, which- eugh- is bad to look at.

G: Yeah, why take her uniform? Why leave her in a shirt?

C: Yeah, like, what was- like, what was the point? I don't know.

G: Well, they also took Sam's jacket.

C: Well, we also see that they took Sam's jacket, right.

G: So it's not a misogyny.

C: Yeah it's not a- yeah, no. We got- we got Sam's tits, and we got Kathleen's tits. Hashtag equality.

G: So true.

C: Kathleen sees Sam and is like, "Oh, are you Sam Winchester? Your cousin's looking-"

G: Your cousin Greg.

C: [laughing] Yeah, your cousin Greg! "Your cousin Greg's looking for you." And Sam's like, "Oh, yay we're gonna be rescued. Where is he?" And Kathleen's like, "So I, um, handcuffed him to my car..." And Sam's like, "Well, goddamn it."

And then the door opens, and we see like, two boots come in, and a pair of jeans, and we're like, "Oh no, is it the Benders, or is it Dean?" And we pan up-

G: It looks immediately like Dean.

C: Um, I feel like when it was at the boots, I wasn't sure. When we saw the bottom of the jacket, I was like, "Ah, okay, it's him."

G: Yeah, you see the bowlegs, and you're like, "That's fucking Dean." [laughs]

C: Oh, yeah, I guess I'm not as much of a bowleg connoisseur as you, so I couldn't tell.

Yeah, so it's Dean, and he sees Sam, and he's really relieved. He says, "Sam, are you hurt? It's so good to see you." And then he sees Kathleen there. He's like, "Oh, yeah, I know a trick or two. I got out of the cuffs." And he's trying to figure out the locks, but he can't really. Seems like there has to be a key that he has to find. He and Sam talk a bit about the Jenkins- um, about how they're just people, and I'm sure Kathleen's being really weirded out about how they're talking like it could have not been people. Sam mentions the whole Jenkins situation and how it doesn't make any sense, and yeah, Dean says, "With our usual playmates, there's rules, there's patterns. But with people, they're just crazy." Booo.

G: I mean, there were patterns, with this one. Like, you were able to find it.

C: Right. I just feel like, there was like, so much interesting stuff that could have done with this episode, given that it's a "people are the real monsters" episode, given that it's about a family of hunters, but I just feel like they really- they really dropped the ball on this one.

And Dean says, "Whenever they kidnap someone, they seem to take their car too, so there's a bunch of cars in the back," and Kathleen asks if he saw a black Mustang about 10 years old. And Dean's like, "Yeah," so that was her brother's, and he definitely got hunted to death.

So Dean heads out to find the keys, and Sam tells him to be careful.

G: So Dean is walking inside a room, and it's very dark, so he has his flashlight out. And he's looking around, and there are jars and jars of things. [laughs]

C: Yeah, like [in unison] organs.

G: -right? Like, body parts.

C: It's really fun how they just pulled in every single horror movie aesthetic into this episode. They're like, "We're only gonna get one non-paranormal episode, so let's have like, the backwoods, let's have the hunting, let's have organs in jars," like, there's so much happening.

G: He continues walking around, and he sees Polaroids of basically the two brothers, Jared and Lee, standing next to dead bodies.

Oh! The transcript says one of them is Jenkins. I didn't notice that. I thought it was just some random guy.

C: Yeah. No, so remember, Dean picks up the photo, and he flips it over, so he can see the face better.

G: Yeah.

C: And it's so that we and he know that they done got Jenkins.

G: No, I thought it was just a random guy, still! [laughs]

C: No, no. Yeah, I mean, his facial hair is pretty clearly Jenkins.

G: I have face blindness for white men.

C: Yeah, that was John Shiban, actually. [both laugh]

G: I think that was- it could be John Shiban. It could be Jeremy Carver. It could be Robert Berens. We don't know! [C laughs]

So he says the line again. [laughs] And he says it by saying, "I'll say it again." [C laughs] Which I thought was so funny, like, yeah, we get it!

C: Self-aware king.

G: So he says, "I'll say it again, demons I get. People are crazy." Boo.

C: Booo.

G: So he goes upstairs, and then, there is old-timey music playing. It's very atmospheric, actually. This scene was very fun.

C: Yeah. It's fun.

G: Papa Bender- [laughs] as the transcript says, which I think is so funny. The dad, the father of the family, is in the kitchen, and he is cutting apart something. So we can assume it's like, human remains, I guess.

C: Yeah, I wish we got to like, properly see him carving up Jenkins's corpse. Like, they could have gone harder with the cannibalism this episode.

G: Yeah.

C: Like, that would have been fun to see.

G: Like, we could have seen a Hannibal-esque scene where-

C: Yeah, exactly.

G: - he cuts up the foot of the person. That would have been fun.

C: I feel like this episode is fairly reminiscent of- I haven't watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but I read the Wikipedia summary after I watched Tinashe's latest music video. [G laughs] So, I feel like maybe they thought that if they went too hard on the cannibalism thing, people would be like, "This is so clearly just Texas Chainsaw Massacre."

G: Yeah.

C: Um, but also, yeah, it would have been really fun to see like, a family dinner scene where like, they're serving up Jenkins.

G: At some point, Dean is walking, and he bumps into some chimes. And at first he's like, "Oh, it's chimes, I have to shut this thing so that Papa Bender doesn't hear me." And then he takes a double look- oh my god. They're bones. So like, there's jaws and skulls, and that's what the chimes were made off. So, you know. Very fun, very horror.

C: So fun. Yeah. Who do you think in the families is like, making all the bone furniture?

G: [laughs] What's your guess? I would say Lee because he has the name that I like the most.

C: Yeah, okay, yeah. I'll go with that. I think Lee works. Um... hm. I guess I've been wondering what Missy's role in this family tradition is. Like, I'm assuming she's kind of too young so far to like join into the hunt.

G: Later on, like, Papa Bender says, "We pass this down from father to son." And then they pan specifically to Missy which I was like, "Huh. Hm."

C: Yeah. Yeah. So, yeah, I think it's not her turn yet to hunt people, but I feel like maybe they let her play around with the bones a bit to get acclimated to the whole corpses thing. Yeah, so I think maybe she made the windchime.

G: He keeps on walking, and then he notices, you know, some keys. So he goes for it, and then he notices some other things, like a jar full of teeth.

C: He gets distracted. He's like, picking up the jar of teeth instead of just grabbing the box of keys. Like, come on, Dean.

G: Yeah, and then he hears a creak behind him. So he turns around, and then he sees a little girl. Missy. He sees Missy.

C: [laughs] Yeah, and we know she's a badass bitch, but he doesn't.

G: Yeah. And he says, "Okay, okay, I'm not gonna hurt you." And then she says, with a little smile, "I know." [delighted laugh]

C: "I know."

G: Go, Missy!

C: Soo good!

G: And then she- And then she throws her little knife towards Dean's jacket, so it sticks him to the wall, basically. And then we start a little fight scene.

Missy calls her father, and Jared and Lee starts attacking Dean. So, yeah. It's just a fight scene. I have no idea how to describe it.

C: It's, yeah, it's pretty fun to watch. They're getting thrown around the room a lot.

G: It's fun to watch, but it's not like, a describable fight scene. Like, they're just fighting, because, you know, other fight scenes in Supernatural, like, Sam cuts his hand with the- with the knife, like, etc etc. But this is one just whatever.

C: Dean gets thrown against a wall, and there's like, blood on his face, and he's sort of on the ground.

G: Yeah.

C: And he's like, "I'm gonna kick your ass first. And then yours."

G: And then Daddy Bender hits him at the back of the head, and he falls to the ground.

C: So now Dean's tied up in a chair, and the family is around him, talking about how fun it would be to funt--sorry how fun it would be to hunt him.

G: Oh, I have a- I have a remark. They never say “Bender” in the episode, no?

C: Um, does Missy ever- yeah, Missy doesn't say her last name, right? She just says, "I'm Missy."

G: Yeah. So they never say "Bender." So did they just go, "Oh, fuck, we didn't put Bender in the episode, but like, we already have the title, so might as well"? [C laughs] Or is "The Benders" a reference?

C: Not that I'm aware of.

G: Yeah, me too. This is what we get for being so uncultured. [laughs]

C: Ugh. Sorry for not being white! [both laugh]

So, uh, yeah, they're talking about how fun it would be to hunt Dean, and Dean goes, "You've gotta be kidding me. That's what this is about? You yahoos hunt people?" Dean, what do you do? Like, with your time. Huh? Like, what do you do?

G: No, I guess, like, the difference between them is that, you know, these people enjoy it and, like Sam and Dean are scared, you know? Like, they make a point-

C: I'm a- okay, I'm aware of how much they enjoy torturing that vampire in the finale, though, like-

G: No, yeah, that's what I was gonna say.

C: Like, they- currently, they are scared.

G: Yeah, like, they make a point at the beginning of the show that Sam and Dean are, like, scared of hunting, and Sam specifically gets nightmares from it, right? Remember? But, [both laugh] as we proceed into the show, they start- they start losing that like, self-awareness that this is a terrible job.

C: Yeah.

G: And like, it does become more and more like they're the fucking Benders, but for monsters. And sometimes for people! [laughs]

C: And sometimes for people.

Yeah, so, yeah, the dad asks, "You ever killed before?" And Dean says, "That depends on what you mean." I love how the dad doesn't like, ask about that. He's not like, "Oh, you mean you stepped on an ant once?" Like, he's just too caught up in his fun little monologue.

G: Yeah, he doesn't fucking care about what Dean has to say. And you know what? Good for him.

C: Yeah. He doesn't care about Dean's- right, ah, I love- yeah, what if, like, he caught someone, and [laughing] they were like, "Yeah, I love killing people all the time. I do it so often." Like, would he still keep going? [both laugh]

So, yeah he says, "I've hunted all my life, just like my father and his before him. I've hunted deer and bear, I even got a cougar once. But the best hunt is human. There's nothing like it. Holding their life in your hands... seeing the fear in their eyes, just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful alive." It's a good villain monologue.

G: Yeah.

C: Good for him.

Um, and Dean calls him "a sick puppy." [laughs]

G: Go, Dean.

C: Like, they're allowed to say "bastard" on Supernatural, right?

G: Yeah, yeah, they are.

C: "You're a sick puppy."

The dad says- this is where we find out that he gives the people that he hunts a weapon on purpose to give them a fighting chance so that the hunt's more fun. And he calls it "a family tradition that's passed down, father to son," and yeah, as that's being said, the camera pans specifically to Missy. Who isn't even like, gonna get her bossass bitch murder era 'cause she's probably just- I don't know, going somewhere else after this episode. Ugh.

Yeah, and he says that they only really hunt one or two people a year. Usually, the cops don't go after them. The dad asks if Dean is with, quote unquote, "that pretty cop," which begins the sort of gendered language used against Kathleen that continues throughout this episode that makes me highly uncomfortable.

G: But, like, they're making it, you know, they're making the villain say it.

C: Yeah, they're- like it's bad on purpose. Yeah, like, I get that, but also it's- I just think it's striking that Sam and Dean don't get insulted at all by the Benders. Like, the Benders are very big on dehumanizing people and feeling like they have power above them, but they never really insult Sam or Dean, they just try to kill them. With Kathleen, they try to kill her, and they call her a bitch like, 20 times.

G: Yeah. Also, like, when like, when we see the pictures, right? It's all men. So like, probably they don't get like, a female victim a lot, so that's why, like, they get one, and they're like, super into it for some fucking reason.

C: Dean's like, "Okay, I'll answer your questions if you promise not to make me into an ashtray." This doesn't go over well.

G: [laughing] Oh, yeah, because he gets burned later.

C: [laughing] Yeah, exactly. Um, yeah, like, the dad takes out a hot poker from the fireplace and is ready to burn Dean's eye out.

G: In an amazing shot that they linger on for too long. So like, you're aware it's amazing, but you're also like, "Come on, you're showing off." [both laugh]

C: Oh, Peter Ellis.

Yeah and then- this is when Dean makes the joke that makes no sense, which is, "How about it's not nice to marry your sister?" Which is like, okay, cool, I'm glad we're continuing to make fun of country people for being poor and quote unquote "uncultured." That's fun. But also, Dean said anti-Wincest king. [both laughing] Dean has a Tumblr blog, and he writes "Wincests DNI" in the bio.

And the dad's like, "You have to tell me if the cops are gonna come looking for you, because I need to protect my family." And Dean's like, "Oh, eat me. No, wait, you actually might." Like, that wasn't even a good joke, Dean. But I get it, whatever, like, there's a hot poker near your eye. You can't come up with the best jokes yet.

And then this is where Papa Bender says, "You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family." Seriously, like, again, they could've gone way harder on the parallels with like, hunting family that will do anything to protect their own, but they just sort of breeze past it. Ugh.

He's like, "Okay, well, let's- we're gonna hunt tonight. And Dean, you get to pick who's getting hunted. The boy or the cop." Which puts Dean in a pretty difficult position, but like, I was Dean, [laughing] I would have just said "the cop," like, immediately like, I wouldn't even-

G: [laughing] Yeah, like, I- I just watched this episode recently, and even I was like, "Oh, he's gonna say the cop, right?" And then he didn't, and I was like, "Oh, okay."

C: Well, like, I know he says Sam because he thinks-

G: Sam can make it.

C: Like, "Oh, maybe Sam can take these guys," but like, I would not have risked it. I would've been like, "Oh, you're asking me? Great. Um, yeah, go for Kathleen." [laughing] Like, go right ahead.

Dean's trying to refuse to choose, and Papa Bender burns his chest with the hot poker, and then puts it right near his eye. Dean starts freaking out, and says, "Yeah, take the guy, take the guy." The dad sends his sons out to do it, but he says, like, "Don't let him out of the cage, just shoot him right there." Which obviously freaks Dean out. And then the dad continues, "When you're done with the boy, shoot the bitch too." Eugh. Eugh. I think, specifically, I wrote down here, "Don't talk like that in front of your daughter!" [G laughs] Like-

G: Yeah!

C: Missy's right there! Like, come on.

G: Be a good influence, Papa Bender.

C: Exactly. Like, the murder thing is like, chill, like, whatever. Like, family business, go ahead, I'm not gonna go against your customs here. But like, drink a little bit of respect women juice in front of your 13-year-old daughter, Like, come on!

Oh, I was just gonna say, and, yeah, the reason that he wants them both to be shot is that he doesn't want them to have the chance to get out because more cops might start coming.

G: Yeah. So Lee enters the barn. He opens Sam's cage, which is so unnecessary! Just shoot Sam. Literally just shoot him.

And then he opens the- Sam's cage, and then he aims the gun at Sam.

C: We see Sam, like, grab the bracket.

G: Yeah. [laughs] For what? For what is the bracket?

C: I mean, it worked.

G: But we don't it work.

C: Yeah, but we assume that he got the better of Lee with the bracket.

G: Yeah, so he grabs the bracket. And then we cut back to the house with Dean and Papa Bender and Missy and the other guy. And we hear screaming. Dean says, "If you hurt my brother, I'll kill you. I'll kill you all." Fun.

C: Yeah, he's yelling really loud. It's- it's a good scene. I enjoy when Dean gets a bit unhinged.

G: So, Papa Bender starts calling out for Lee. We cut back to the cage, where Sam is- has taken the upper hand, and he's grabbing the gun. Sam tries to fire the gun, but it doesn't work, so he throws it away and basically imprisons Lee in the cage.

C: Yeah, also the whole time, his like, chest is heaving up and down, and you can really see his titties through the gray T-shirt.

G: This is his hot boy moment.

G: So, in the living room, because Lee is not responding, Papa Bender, like, asks the other brother to go with him to the barn. So they go. They find Lee unconscious. And they try to open the lights, but apparently, Sam like, blew the fuse or something.

So they go to look around the barn for Sam and Kathleen. Sam is like, located in some haze, and Kathleen opens a cabinet, which she closes immediately, in a shot that looks so out of place. Jared goes up to the cabinet and starts shooting it because he thinks that Kathleen is in there. He opens the cabinet, and it's empty, and then Kathleen jumps him.

C: Yeah, like, from like, like another floor of the barn. Like, she falls on top of his back. It's a fun shot.

G: Yeah, she jumps him, and then, like, they start tackling each other. But Jared ends up having the upper hand afterwards, and he's about to shoot Kathleen when Sam comes in.

C: Yeah. Also, he specifically calls her "You stupid bitch," like, they're really doing this here.

G: So, there's like, a bluff thing that happens when Sam attacks Jared. Because, like, he attacks Jared, and Jared is about to shoot him, but Sam ducks, so Jared ends up shooting Papa Bender instead. So Papa Bender’s on the ground. And then Sam grabs the gun and hits Jared in the face, and they all collapse, and then, we cut to black.

C: This is a metaphor for how Sam Winchester the character like, killed Jared Padalecki the guy by being the bestest little guy ever and rendering Jared Padalecki obsolete.

G: [laughing] So true.

G: So Sam takes Jared and then puts him in the same cage as Lee. And then he locks the cage. But Papa Bender’s still on the floor of the barn, and Kathleen is pointing a gun at him. She tells Sam that he can go look for Dean and save him from Missy.

Kathleen remains behind, and she's talking to Papa Bender. She says, "You killed my brother. Why? I just want to know why?" Papa Bender says, "Because it's fun." And then Kathleen fires the gun.

Okay. So what do you think of this scene?

C: I mean, cops should not just kill people, but like, for like, in the horror genre, like, people kill people all the time, and it's fun. [laughs]

G: Yeah.

C: [laughs] Yeah.

G: I don't know, it just made me uncomfortable because later on, she tells Sam and Dean that he fought for his life.

C: Oh, yeah, no, absolutely.

G: Like, he fought for his life-

C: Yeah, no, she's saying that she killed him out of self-defense, and like, she didn't. She did it out of revenge.

G: Yeah.

C: And that's not okay.

G: Like, it just reminded me of--because, like, you know, like, war on drugs in the Philippines, like, every single day, we would get like, police officers saying that like, "Oh, nanlaban, like, this person acted def- tried to defend themselves, so like, whatever, we shot him." And it's just-

C: Right.

G: It took me back, and I was like, "Okay, this is quite unpleasant." But I can get that, like, the mechanics of a horror genre is different. So I'm not saying that like, "Oh, you know." You know what I'm saying.

C: No, I mean it is... yeah, it is uncomfortable still, but I guess it's- it was expected.

G: Yeah.

C: So, yeah it was like, bad, but like, expectedly bad. Not unexpectedly bad, which is a different emotion.

G: Yes.

C: Like the fucking half blackface hunting scene.

C: Sam and Dean are walking out of the house, and they mentioned that they locked Missy in a closet. [laughs] Um, and yeah, she lies to them, and tells them that Papa Bender was trying to escape, and she shot him. But all of them sort of look at each other, so I feel like they're all aware that she's lying.

G: Yeah.

C: And the police are about to show up to this house, and Kathleen says, "Hey, you should probably head out before they get here." And Dean asks- well, he says, "I don't mean to press our luck, but we're kind of in the middle of nowhere. Could we catch a ride?" And Kathleen says, "Nope. Start walking!" And Sam's, like, a polite little boy. He's like, "Sounds great to me! Thanks!" And Dean apologizes for what happened to Kathleen's brother. Yeah, she starts tearing up, and she says that "It was really hard, not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth, but it isn't, really." Which, ugh.

Okay. Mm- I feel like- okay, so we've talked about how women in Supernatural do not seem like people besides Cassie and Missouri. I feel like Kathleen seems more like a person than a lot of other women in Supernatural. Have you gotten that vibe too, or am I just- is that just me?

G: I think her actress is really good.

C: Yeah, yeah.

G: And like, she was able to make the character feel alive. About the writing, I don't think she was given enough.

C: Yeah, she could sell her even though she didn't make sense.

G: Yeah. I mean, she made some sense, and like, I wasn't say it's the writing. I would say it's the actor.

C: Okay, so yeah, I'm glad that it was mostly the part of the acting and not the writing that made her seem more like a person. Because I know later, like, Supernatural has this bad habit of like, "Oh, we'll make some women people, but like, just the cops. Like, just Jody and Donna." So I was like, "Oh, god does this start early?" But no, I think her writing was still subpar, so this is more of an acting choice that caused her to be more like, sympathetic or whatever. Yeah.

G: Yeah. Like, when when she was standing there, and she- they were all like, kind of nodding at each other when he says that he shot the guy because he tried to escape, it's like, "Oh, okay, so like, I ca-n I can empathize," you know, like, the acting is actually really good. So yeah.

C: Finally, we cut to, like, this high shot of Sam and Dean walking down a road in the dark. Dean says, "Never do that again." Sam says, "Do what?" Dean says, "Go missing like that." Yeah, which is sweet. Like, obviously Sam can't stop being kidnapped, but, you know, it's Dean's way of showing concern. Um, yeah, Sam says, "You were worried about me," and like, is making fun of him for it, which is, I guess, par for the course in Supernatural.

G: Yeah.

C: Yeah, and Dean's like, "if you vanish like that again, I'm not looking for you," and they're teasing each other. Sam's like, "Heard that you got beat up by a 13-year-old girl. Getting rusty there, kiddo." And they're just sorta laughing and talking as they walk off. And that's the end of the episode.

G: Okay, I have a question. Was it ever explained how they took the people in the first place, like, under the car? How does that work? Did they just sneak under the car?

C: I don't know. They were just- they just dragged them under the car, I guess. I don't know.

G: [laughs] It's so unnecessary, like, the car thing is so unnecessary.

C: Well it's just so that we don't know that it's people until way later, but I guess there are better ways to show it. Because I know- isn't-

G: "Gimme Shelter." Like, the person is human. The person who's doing the things is human. And they also do like, the whole, gets taken by a teddy bear thing to like, lure you away from the idea that it's a human. [C laughs] God.

C: That's very fun.

G: Yeah.

So, anyway, that's how the episode ends. So what did you think of this one, Crystal?

C: I mean, yeah, I feel like- this one felt like a different genre than Supernatural usually is. And I feel like, like I- as someone who hasn't engaged in much horror, I found this horror pretty fun, but I also, you know, as we've mentioned, have an issue with just the "backwoods poor country people being evil and craaazy" being a horror trope in the first place.

G: Yeah. I'm going to say that, you know, how, in "Faith," we were complaining that only the beginning was contrary to a Supernatural episode, but the rest is just a case episode? I think this is an example of one where the beginning is contrary to like, how Supernatural usually goes, and it continues on for the rest of the episode. So it doesn't feel like just a case episode. Like, it feels like there's a spice to it. [laughs] So I thought that was really fun, and again, [laughing] I think this episode is better than "Faith." I'm so mean! [C laughs] But like, it's the one I can compare it to.

C: I can't wait until we get to "Dog Dean Afternoon" and you say, "I think this episode is better than 'Faith.'" [both laughing]

G: No, it's just- I'm comparing the two because they have like, similar premises, right?

C: Yeah.

G: Of like, Dean almost dies, and then Sam is taken, and they're- yeah. It's like, kind of similar in that it's not just a typical monster of the week episode, and so far, these are the only two that we have gotten so far that isn't also plot-heavy.

G: So, uh, Best Line/Worst Line.

C: I liked Papa Bender’s whole [in unison] villain monologue.

G: Yeah, it's so much fun.

C: Yeah. "Best hunt is human. Holding their life in your hands, seeing the fear in their eyes, just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful alive." Like, hell yeah, dude!

G: Um, I would say my best line is- [laughing] I'm gonna go the comedic route and say, "I lost some weight, and I got that Michael Jackson disease." It's pretty funny. [C laughs] It was so f- like, I laughed out loud, which is something that I rarely do in Supernatural episodes, even though I enjoy it a lot. Because usually, my reaction to Supernatural is like, head in hands, or like, [pained sound] or just like, random noises, you know. But I never- I rarely like, go like, "hahaha, that's funny," so. That one was pretty funny.

C: Yeah. I mean, it will never be "Dude, you fugly," though.

G: [laughs] Exactly.

G: Okay, so what's your worst line?

C: Uh, just probably every time they call Kathleen a bitch. It's just not pleasant. Oh, and also, the like, "How about it's not nice to marry your sister?" Like, that came out of fucking nowhere, dude.

G: Yeah. Uh, but it is like, a common trope, right?

C: Yeah, no it's very much like, "Oh, like, oh people from like, Alabama are all marrying their cousins" or something. It's like, a common joke, yeah.

G: Yeah.

C: Though they're in Minnesota right now. It's just about the, the backwoods.

G: Uh, I would say, like, my worst line is also every time they call Kathleen a bitch. It just made me- yeah, uncomfortable.

C: Yeah, like, "You hurt my family, I'm gonna bleed you, bitch," like, shut up. Ew. Stop. Eugh.

G: Yeah, because, like, like these people are, you know, murderers, right. So like, fun. But like, when you insert the gendered language, it does feel like, you know, a gendered offense.

C: Yeah.

G: So, yeah. Not fun. But like, the murder is pretty fun, so. [laughs]

C: Yeah. Big fan of murder. I support murder, I think that people should murder all the time. Everyone listening, since you don't know how to think about media critically, I demand that you go out and murder 10 people today. Thank you.

G: [laughs] Okay, I think our audience is smarter than that. [laughs]

C: They're Supernatural fans. Say I, a Supernatural fan.

G: No! Noo!

C: I know I murder 10 people every day.

G: Yeah. It's part of your diet.

C: Yeah, exactly. I mean, I am a big fan of cannibalism. [laughing] Anyway, yeah.

G: Okay, so IMDB rating. What's your IMDB score.

C: Huh. I'm not sure. 'Cause I thought this was pretty fun, and I feel like, typically- typically episodes that break a little from the case format do get higher scores, right? So... But also, I feel like the watchers may be more- they might know horror tropes better and therefore find this episode a little boring, or like, it's stealing stuff. So, I don't know. Like, an 8.4?

G: Hm. I think 8.4 is good. I'll- I'll go with you on this one.

C: Okay.

G: Because I was thinking 8.3 is like, a bit too low, but 8.5 is a bit too high. So, like, 8.4 it is.

C: Yeah.

G: Okay, let's look it up.

[laughing]

C: What. How far are we?

G: It's 8.3.

C: Oh! Ugh, you shouldn't have let me sway you.

G: Yeah.

C: Oh, I just saw a trivia thing that said that in the police records, it lists both Sam and Dean as 6'4.

G: When Dean is 5'3 in real life?! Come on, guys.

C: Yeah! When Dean is literally 5'2 in real life? Like, come on, guys.

Wait. Is Sam literally 6'4? Jesus Christ.

G: Yeah, I think so. I mean Greg- Cousin Greg is 6'7.

C: Yeah, but like, he's Cousin Greg, he's allowed to be freakishly tall.

G: "It has the tension of a real crime film." I actually agree with that.

C: Yeah, yeah, like, I feel like some of the Dean and Kathleen scenes felt like, a sort of crime procedural genre type thing, and then the rest of it felt pretty horror, so yeah, it was- it was fairly good for the genres that it was borrowing.

G: One of these says "too darn trope-driven," which is our first negative review. Which, I guess so.

C: Yeah, I feel like, it probably was. I just am not as familiar with the tropes involved.

Oh, yeah, no, okay, someone said, "Really? Why do we get the crazy hillbilly episode?" So true. Oh, and the person's saying that they live near Hibbing, Minnesota, [G laughs] and it doesn't look like it at all, and also, "Why do they have Southern accents in Minnesota?" [laughing] Yeah, no, literally why do they have Southern accents in Minnesota?

G: Minnesota is, um, wait, I'll guess, I'll guess. I would say it's... Midwest.

C: Um, Minnesota is fairly northern- well, no, actually- Actually, I thought Donna had a-

G: Yeah.

C: Okay, yeah, okay, so Minnesota's in the upper Midwest, so yeah.

G: Wow. I'm so good.

C: We were both right. Yeah, good job.

G: [laughing] I'm basically American at this point. [both laugh]

C: Yeah, no, right. This person's right, yeah. They said, "Why is it assumed that because we're people in northern Minnesota, we're crazy enough to kill people for the heck of it? Why do we get that stereotype?" So true, IMDB person.

G: [laughing] Yeah, you should give it to the Southern people!

C: [laughing] Exactly! Go be classist towards people in the South instead.

G: Uh, to clarify, [laughs] that- that was a joke.

C: Yeah.

G: Yes.

C: Yeah, all classism is bad, but I also think that this person deserves to feel angry at this portrayal of northern Minnesota.

G: Yeah. Okay!

C: Yeah.

G: So, I think that's it for this episode of Busty Asian Beauties. Next time, we will be talking about Season 1, Episode 16: "Shadow." Leave us a rating or review wherever you get your podcasts!

C: Follow us on social media, and also look at the Supernatural writers face gradient. We are on Twitter at twitter.com/BeautiesPodcast and on Tumblr at bustyasianbeautiespod.tumblr.com. Our official tag is #babpod, B-A-B-P-O-D.

G: Thank you to everyone who has tipped us in ko-fi. And you can email us any feedback, comments, or inquiries at [email protected]. See you guys next time! [both] Bye!

[guitar music]

#transcript

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kosmikowboj · 3 years

Text

somehow managed to finish the first prompt for @spnprideweek before the day was over! I wish this could’ve been longer but alas, I have awful time management. it was still fun to write tho--it’s my first time ever writing Mary’s character, let alone from her POV, and I had a good time :,)

day 1: coming out / flags

friends of dorothy

[read on AO3; word count: 900ish]

Mary didn’t expect things to be how she had left them.

She couldn’t, not when she had been gone so long—decades, written clearly in the lines creasing her child’s face. Soft cheeks she had once pinched between her fingers had solidified into a square jaw, completed by a half-frown set stubbornly into a five o-clock shadow. One of the first things she’d noticed was how little Dean seems to smile now, softening only in the presence of the Biblical angel that has apparently taken root in their bunker. Sam and Dean had seemed to think that would be the part that threw her off the most—the angel named Castiel who lives with them and likes to critique the Food Network—but if she lets her mind go enough, that part makes the most sense. She knows what a life of hunting does to someone, and she also knows how much it means to have someone to hunt with.

Looking at the designer bags under Dean’s eyes, she can only hope Castiel is a better “with” than John was.

The eyes shift as Dean casts an uneasy glance in her direction, swallowing, and it’s then Mary realizes she’s been blatantly scrutinizing him for the past several minutes.

“Take a picture,” he says. “It’ll last longer.”

She sighs, swinging her gaze to look back out the window. On the insistence of Castiel, she’s accompanying Dean to the grocery store, and awkward silence has marked the entirety of their journey thus far. It doesn’t help that she knows she wasn't Dean’s first choice of company; he had wanted to take the angel, to no one’s surprise, but Castiel had insisted he spend some time with his mother to “work things out.” Then he had handed Dean a post-it note that simply read “macaroni with cheese.”

“Look, De—Dean,” she corrects, wincing internally, “when I last saw you, you were four years old and had pigtails. I need some time to adjust.”

“You can adjust without starin’ at me like I’m a two-headed cow.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Mary lets out a dramatic huff and turns back towards Dean, who is staring pointedly at the road. “Can you give me at least a little credit? It’s not like I’m not trying. Between the angel in your TV room and the fact that the 80s are long over, I’ve just been dealing with a lot.”

Dean lets out a slow, heavy sigh, guiding the car through a turn before finally saying, “I know, mom. I know.”

The awkward silence settles again, thick and stifling over the leather upholstery. It almost feels like it could stick, and Mary searches desperately for something to bond over, a sliver of anything that would make this easier. She worries a particular thought back and forth before deciding to chance it, breaking the stillness again.

“Can I ask a different question?”

Dean looks at her warily.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you a homosexual? Is that related at all?”

Dean chokes on his own spit, face going bright red as he struggles to get his breathing under control. As the hacking ebbs, he manages to rasp, “What?”

“You and Castiel. I figured there must be...something.”

“He’s just a friend, ma,” Dean chuckles out half-heartedly, but Mary clocks him immediately. She knows she doesn’t have particularly sharp mothering instincts—she never did, and with her kids suddenly in their late thirties she’s even more out of her depth—but there’s something in the careful lilt of his voice that gives him away even to her.

“Cheryl a few houses down was ‘just a friend,’ too,” she muses, watching as the trees outside fall away and are replaced with fields. The soft, strangled sound next to her makes it clear the implication isn’t lost on Dean, and she turns her gaze back to him. “It’s difficult for me, to understand. To have died with a daughter and be resurrected with a son. But what’s even more difficult for me to understand is how you could possibly think ‘just friends’ look at each other like that.”

“I’m not sure I like this line of interrogation much better,” Dean mutters, cheeks flushing. “So, what, you’re a lesbian?”

Mary laughs at that, shaking her head. “I see you get your tact from me. Or lack thereof.”

“You brought it up.”

“You’re trying to change the subject.” Beat. “I don’t know. I did really like Cheryl. More than I ever…” Mary swallows, looking down at her lap where she’s fidgeting with the fabric of her shirt. “It was complicated. I did like your father, of course I did, but—what I wanted, what I really wanted, didn’t exactly matter then.”

“It should’ve,” Dean says. “Matters now.”

Mary looks up at him, slightly stupified by the simplicity in his words, and smiles. “I suppose it does, doesn’t it? Well, I’ll tell you what: I’ll ask out a girl when you ask out your angel.” “Not happening,” he replies instantly, but there’s something about the relief in his shoulders that tells her he’s lying.

“Look, if I can somehow flirt my way up someone’s skirt before—”

“Aaand this conversation is over. Not talking about this with my mom.”

Mary laughs again. “I suppose at least some things stay the same. Though change...can be good too.”

For the first time since her return, Dean turns that soft smile on Mary.

“I can’t argue with that.”

#spnprideweek #my writing #this was so much fun i wanna write more mary #i have another mary ficlet planned for transnatural week let's see if i actually get it done haha #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #mary winchester #trans dean #bi dean #lesbian mary

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angelsdean · 7 months

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sorry i'm still thinking meta-ly about deancassie's goodbye. like first there's what i said in the linked post. dean notably isn't the one driving in this scene. it's sam behind the wheel, steering them away. because leaving cassie again is painful. it's the last thing he wants to do. and dean is someone who struggles to do the leaving when it comes to the people he loves. at four years old he establishes this sort of idea about love and leaving. he tells mary as he comforts her after john left, "i love you too. and i'll never leave you." he sees how john leaving hurts mary and dean promises to never be the one who leaves. and while, later, his life circumstances often get in the way, he continues to struggle to do the leaving. and it hurts him deeply when he gets left.

so, this goodbye, he can't be in the driver's seat. he just can't do it. and then on the road, sam asks, "You meet someone like her, doesn't it makes you wonder if it's worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?" and dean just smiles and pointedly does not answer. because we know what his answer would be. we know already, despite the facade he puts up, that dean doesn't really want to be doing this. he scoffs at the apple pie picket fence life in a "the lady doth protest too much" sort of way. we know he had his own dreams, desires. he wanted to go to college too. he wanted a normal life. so, if he could just put it all down? if he could stop hunting and not feel guilty about it and build a life with someone he loves, would he? yes, of course, yes. but he doesn't feel he has that choice. he still feels bound to this duty, this mission. so what's the point in answering that question when the answer won't change anything? instead he puts on his sunglasses and reclines back and tells sam to wake him up when it's his turn to drive. (because he still can't drive yet. they're still too close. he could easily turn the car around. he doesn't trust himself not to)

but, back to the other part of deancassie's goodbye that really gets me. it's dean's insistence that they will see each other again (even if we know this to be false, being the omniscient audience we are with the power to see into the future.) because dean has.....faith. dean got his crash course in faith in the previous episode and now, well, he's a bit of a believer in things that seem impossible. cassie says she's a "realist" and "doesn't see much hope" for them. but dean says he's seen stranger things. cassie says "goodbye" with an air of finality but dean responds with, "I'll see ya, Cassie....I will." determined and believing every word. because, again, dean can't bear to leave the people he loves. but if he must or if circumstances / other powers force them apart then he'll do everything he can to find his way back to them.

he is literally, literally the kind of person who does not say "goodbye" but "see you later." a fact that is made all the more heart-wrenching when you think about 15x18 too. "why does this sound like a goodbye" dean asks, his whole body filling with dread. "because it is." and dean pleading, "don't do this, cas." and then cas, like cassie, says "goodbye" with an air of finality. and what do we know about dean? well, he doesn't accept goodbyes. "I'll see ya....I will."

anyways dean's last goodbye with his first love and dean's last goodbye with his last love, two people that also share very similar names, is just. well. it sure does make me feel some kind of way.

#mymeta #vics spn rewatch #dean studies #spn 1x13 #spn 15x18 #parallels #deancassie #deancas

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katehuntington · 3 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part 24) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±9400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 24: John’s presence at the horse show flips Dean’s world upside down, sending him a tailspin that could have serious consequences. Will Y/N and his friends be able to get through to him? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: How Do You Get ‘Em Back - David Ramirez. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @atc74, and @winchest09 for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand. Guys, this is going to be a heavy one. 9.3K of angst. If you are invested in this story, I suggest you’ll have the tissues ready before you start reading. Godspeed.

Ride With Me Masterlist

“Hello, son.”

Only two words, but it’s more than Dean has heard his father say in a long while. The simple greeting lingers between them, like smog polluting the air, stealing his breath. A force of habit the cowboy assumed was long forgotten has him square his shoulders. After all, if there’s anything John taught him it's that men can’t be weak.

What does he call him? Dad? Sir? The cowboy isn’t even sure and so he decides to keep his mouth closed. Instead, he measures the man before him. He is but a ghost of the parent Dean remembers - or at least idolized for so long. His boots are dusty and worn, the leather tearing at the creases. His clothes are dirty, stains on the white t-shirt he’s wearing under a camel jacket. He grew a beard, the tough hairs grey now. A black cowboy hat hides most of his slick hair, but they don’t conceal the dark circles under his father’s eyes, nor the tale of pain and sorrow that are still apparent. Nothing has changed, really. He just got older.

Dean can feel his knees weaken as his breaths come out shaky, but he is able to stand his ground. He sets his jaw, gritting away the frustration that continues to build, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palm. But it’s more than just aggravation that courses through him; it’s joined with an overwhelming sense of panic and fear. He wants to run, far away from confrontations and the dull blade that is tearing open old wounds. What he would give to go back in time, just an hour or so, to prevent this moment. What he would give to be able to live the life he naively pictured, with his family, with Y/N.

Meanwhile, John watches him, eyes glossed over and wearing a small smile. “It’s good to see you.” Still, Dean can’t speak. He just stares at his father. Even the gentle words falling from John’s chapped lips don’t lift the tension. Where Dean was thankful that the stables were empty just a few minutes ago, he now wishes it was swarming with people, because being cut out from the public eye is not a position the cowboy wants his girlfriend to be in. When John steps closer hesitatingly, Dean moves in front of her, one hand back to make sure she stays behind him. It’s instinct, a reaction that is fed by years of doing the same for Sammy. He did everything possible to protect his brother then, and now he has to do the same for her. Dean has to get her out of here. Now.

The cowboy turns his head slightly, addressing Y/N without letting his old man out of his sight. “You should get Joplin warmed up. I’ll be right there.” “Dean? Are you s--” “Go,” he insists, wincing at the strict tone of his own voice.

John has halted and watches the exchange, his gaze following the cowgirl who moves to the box on her right and takes off the halter of a black horse inside the stable. Without a word but with concern and confusion evident in her eyes - which flick to his before she averts them quickly - she takes the Quarter by the reins and guides the mare out of the stable. When she’s out of earshot, Dean’s father returns his focus to his son. “That your girlfriend?” he wonders. “No,” the wrangler claims, wanting to keep her out of this at all costs. John doesn’t have to know about his relationships with her or with his friends. It will make them vulnerable to his influence. “She’s just an intern,” he adds.

Believing the statement to be true, he dips his chin, nodding slightly, and Dean is able to exhale. At least he got Y/N out of harm’s way, now he just needs to somehow prepare himself to take the fire. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s time to face the faults of the past. He allowed the family to fall apart on that dreadful night when the bond between the Winchesters was shattered to pieces. Dean destroyed it all.

Carefully, his old man moves closer once more, and involuntarily the young cowboy steps back. He doesn’t want to. He intends to stand tall and hold position, but trepidation has him back up before he can stop himself. Apparently aware of the effect he has on Dean, John ceases his attempt to close the unbreachable gap between father and son.

Leaving a safe distance between them, he speaks again. “You’ve grown up to be quite the man, Dean. Your aunt and uncle must have taken good care of you.” More than you’ve ever done, Dean thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say it out loud, too apprehensive for the reaction it might trigger. “They have.” “Well, I’m glad,” John smiles at the ground. “I’m glad you landed on your feet. Do you know if Sammy did too?”

Dean’s eyes fill to the brim before he can blink. He doesn’t know. The big brother who was supposed to look out for him, who was supposed to give everything to provide his younger sibling the safety and care that he deserved, doesn’t know. The question is a punch in the gut, a verification of the fact that he has failed Sam like he has failed so many others. “I don’t,” he admits, doing everything in his power to keep his voice steady. “I haven’t seen him since.”

John sighs, sniffles slightly and glances up, as if he’s mad for a prayer that has been left unanswered. The news does a number on the old guy, and suddenly Dean feels sorry for the man standing before him. His father was already lost when their mother died, and it only got worse when Sam disappeared. The agony it triggered has never left him, just like it never left his son. That loss will always remain, a piece of their heart cut away violently, leaving a hole that bleeds to this day. They both had to settle for a life without Mary and the youngest Winchester in it. As much as Dean wants to hate his father, he simply can’t. He wouldn’t want to wish that kind of torture upon anyone, let alone his dad. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes he has made.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hoped that maybe…” John pauses, shaking his head slightly. “I hoped you boys at least found your way back to each other.”

Dean swallows with difficulty, his bottom lashes barely clinging to the tears that threaten to roll down his face, but he manages to keep it together. He wishes the same, because life without his sibling feels incomplete. God, he misses Sam. And all that guilt, the sorrow, and the uncertainty of his well-being come rushing back to him in a magnitude that he can’t cope with.

John watches his son again, a grown man now, yet still his boy. “I was wondering if maybe we could sit down someday. Have a drink or something, y’know? Try and put this all behind us?”

Astonished, Dean stares at him. A part of him wants to mend this broken relationship, but John must be aware that rekindling the father-son bond will never undo all the trauma their family endured. There’s no going back to how things were, there is no returning to the time the Winchesters were happy. Mom died, and her death set them on a course of total ruination. And yet, Dean can’t answer. He can’t tell his father ‘no’.

“John Winchester!” Hasty footsteps echo between the stable walls, and when the conflicted cowboy glances past his father, he notices Bobby, moving closer with determined strides. A shuddering sigh of relief escapes Dean, and he’s glad the man opposite of him turns around to face his former brother-in-law so that he doesn’t witness the sign of weakness. With his uncle here, he instantly feels safer, knowing that even if this conversation develops into an argument, he has back-up now.

The elder man holds a fury in his eyes that is visible even in the shadows of the worn ball cap he always wears. “You better walk away,” he warns. “We were just talkin’,” John assures, calmly. “I don’t care if you are holding a family reunion,” Bobby sneers. “If you don’t leave right now, I will get my gun and blast your sorry ass so full of buckshot that you will never sit in a saddle again without scratching the leather.”

Dean’s gaze bounces between his father and his uncle, weary of the clash that is about to kick off, as the two older men keep their eyes locked on each other, tension rising by the second. But then, against his expectations, John gives in to Bobby’s request and steps aside. He glances back at his son one last time, giving him a sad smile, before he breaks away and strolls off, shoulders slumped and defeat obvious.

Collecting himself by taking a breath and blowing it out as slowly as he can, the younger cowboy makes eye contact with his uncle, who approaches him until he’s in arm’s reach. He puts his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, gently encouraging the troubled young man to look at him, hoping the touch will ground his nephew. “You alright?” Bobby asks, the lines in his forehead deepening as he frowns. Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and nods, his lips pressed together in a firm line. He can’t speak and has to break away from his uncle’s observant gaze. Bobby’s grip loosens; he’s aware that Dean isn’t ready to expose his true feelings about this unfortunate run-in. “I’m gonna make sure he leaves the premises,” he assures. With those words, the man - who once again has provided him safety - turns away to follow John, committed to matching action with his words if the guy doesn’t take his threat seriously.

Finally alone, the unsettled cowboy tries to inhale again, but his diaphragm seems to have risen to chest height. He can feel anxiety like he has never experienced before in his adult life get a grip on him, and whatever he tries, he can’t stop it. Afraid that his legs might give way, he takes a step to the side and holds on to one of the stable bars, but he still can’t breathe. Unable to hold the frontline in the battle he’s fighting with the overwhelming sense of distress, the tears break through his defense, spilling down his cheeks. Suddenly, he feels sick. He needs to get out, he needs fresh air.

Feeling the bile creeping up from deep inside him as he stumbles outside, he quickly turns the corner behind the tent before he heaves this morning’s partly digested breakfast into the grass. He throws up everything he has been holding, hoping the anguish will leave his body as well, but it doesn’t. When his stomach is empty, he is still left with the same misery. “Fuck,” he chokes out, steadying himself against the steel corner pillar of the stable. He wipes at his runny nose and his tears, sniffling. Get a hold of yourself, Dean, he lectures, you need to keep it together now. He straightens his back, looking down at the mess he made, closing his eyes for a second as he pulls in a careful breath.

“Dean?” Recognizing his friend’s voice, the cowboy turns around. Benny stands behind him, worry in his clear blue eyes. Manning up and finding his footing again, Dean walks up to meet him. The Southerner hands him a bottle of water, and even though the receiver is thankful for having something to rinse his mouth with, he wishes it to be something a whole lot stronger.

Taking a swig, he lets it wash away the sour taste before he spits it onto the ground. After another attempt he realizes that it’s no use and takes a careful sip this time, swallowing it down to put out the fire inside his chest. He glances at Benny, giving him a nod. “I - I’m good,” he says, not just trying to convince his companion. “I’m good.”

Knowing him well, his best friend doesn’t contradict him, even though it’s clear as day the statement is far from the truth. Dean’s eyes are bloodshot, his hand trembling when he moves the bottle to his mouth. “You might wanna get to the warm-up,” Benny reminds him, handing him the headset. The wrangler grimaces. “Shit, yeah. What time is it?” “Two-thirty. Her starting time is in twenty-five minutes,” the Southerner says. “I gotta get goin’,” Dean realizes after cursing again, moving past him to make his way to the arena. He holds up the water bottle as he jogs away. “Thanks.”

Hoping his friend will understand that he’s thanking him for a lot more than just the drink, he hastens away. Right now, he has someone else who needs his support. Y/N has left the stables well over fifteen minutes ago, so he hopes she’s not nervous because of his late arrival. When he finally reaches the fence, he spots her amongst the other riders, warming up Joplin. He can tell she’s focused, or is she upset with him for not being on time? Finding it hard to read her from a distance, he sums it up to a mixture of both. Without disturbing the other competitors, he bends down to duck under the barrier, approaching her and her horse. But when she ignores him completely and continues to work the Quarter on a small circle, he hesitates.

“Y/N?” he calls out, not sure if she saw him from inside her bubble. “What?” she snaps. Taken aback by her reaction, he watches how she keeps circling, slowing down to a walk, but still not stopping to take the headset or even grant him a look. “C’mon, let me help you,” he ushers, holding up the device for her. But when she looks him in the eye, the coldness they behold frightens him. “Why do you even care?” she wonders. “I’m ‘just an intern’ anyway.”

Like she just slapped him across the face, Dean stares at the cowgirl, the daggers she’s shooting at him with her powerful gaze stabbing him right in the heart. No no no, he thinks to himself as he closes his eyes. She wasn’t supposed to hear him say that to his father. He labeled her as an intern only to make sure John wouldn’t be able to get to Dean through his girlfriend. Of course he didn’t mean a word of it! He has to make her understand. “Yankee, I’m sorry. I--” “Forget it, Dean. I can handle myself,” she snarls. “Leave me alone.”

With that, she moves away from her boyfriend, riding Joplin to the other side of the warm-up ring, as far from him as possible. Regretful, her trainer saunters back towards the fence, making his way out of the ring. When he straightens himself, he is met by Jo, who has her arms crossed in front of her chest as she narrows her eyes at her cousin. It’s clear as day that she’s about to rip him a new one as well. “What did you do?” she demands to know, sternly.

Dean looks at her, opening his mouth to answer, but unable to even utter a word. I fucked up, that’s what I did, he realizes. Like he has fucked up everything else that was ever good in his life. He doesn’t reply, though, and instead shakes his head, admitting his loss. “Here.” Dean hands her the small device with a microphone attached to it, his fingers still trembling. “Help her if she needs assistance, alright?” Perplexed, she watches him walk off. She at least expected a counter with a claim that he didn’t do anything wrong. “You’re not gonna even watch her ride?” she asks before he’s too far gone. “I’ll watch from the bleachers. I don’t wanna distract her,” he returns, sadly looking into her eyes before he carries on.

Observing her cousin, an uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. The guilt is oozing from him in great amounts as he disappears in the crowd, his head hanging, the usual upbeat attitude nowhere to be found. What has gotten into him? Something must have happened, something bad. She can’t recall the last time she has seen him this troubled, not since… Jo’s eyes grow a little larger, her brows that were knitted together a moment ago now rising. Suddenly it dawns on her; she hasn’t seen him so thrown into disarray since he arrived at the ranch at fourteen years of age. She might have been only eight at the time, but those memories lingered. The sight of a kid so scared, so depressed, and so broken left an impression. Even as a little girl she knew he had been through hell, and by the looks of her cousin now, it seems like those dark days are catching up with him.

Jo wants to go after the poor guy, but she knows she can’t abandon her best friend. When the steward calls out Y/N’s name, announcing she’s up next, she focuses on the rider again. Right now she is her main priority, because whatever happened between the intern and the wrangler, Jo knows she’s Dean’s priority too.

“Ready?” she checks while quickly drying Joplin with a towel before they head towards the gate. “Yeah, I am,” Y/N assures, pushing Dean from her thoughts. “Remember that it’s fine to pick your first cow from the side of the herd, okay? Don’t set the bar too high. It’s your first time,” the blonde cowgirl offers. “I know,” she assures, even though she’s not planning on playing it safe.

The frustration has morphed into determination, a strong will to prove that she can manage just fine and that Bobby has every reason to dote on her. She much rather feels aggravated than insecure, so she allows the anger to flood the worry, shutting out her usual insecurity. She’s not going to let anyone down, especially not herself.

Concentrated, she goes to the gate, eye for the prize. Joplin already has her ears perked towards the cattle, knowing it’s game time. The clock starts to tick, and with confidence, she guides Joplin through the group of heifers, picking one dead in the middle to single out.

She doesn’t know Dean is watching from the sidelines, and intense sadness filling his soul. She doesn’t know how proud he is when she makes two amazing cuts and she scores 73 points, outclassing him. She doesn’t know that he’s very much aware that his girl doesn’t need him anymore.

Swift strokes brush the dirt out of Joplin’s dark coat. Dust particles dance in the air, illuminated by the orange rays of the setting sun that fall through the window of the stable. The mare allows the pampering, on hindleg resting on its toe, her head hanging low. Big, brown eyes are half closed, falling shut every once in a while. Sleep almost taking the normally feisty horse, the grooming having a relaxing effect on her. It’s almost as if she realizes she’s about to go on a new adventure, and she’s taking this moment to recharge after her run.

Jody has matched Joplin with a great family. A sixteen-year-old girl will be riding her. The teenager and her parents came to meet her new horse right after the great performance, absolutely beaming, knowing this wonderful animal was now theirs. In about fifteen minutes, Joplin’s new owners will be here to take her to their farm in Alamo, New Mexico. The family promised to give the Quarter a forever home, and they showed Y/N pictures of the beautiful barn where the little dark horse is going to live. She’s going to a good place, but the farewell remains bittersweet.

Once the Joplin is thoroughly cleaned, her rider takes her by the halter, raking her fingers through her mane. Y/N has never been good at saying goodbye, but it’s time now. “Be good, okay?” she whispers, letting her hands gently run down the horse’s neck. “And don’t pin your ears back too much. People are gonna think you’re mean, but I know you’re a softy.”

Joplin breathes out a sigh through her nose as if answering the person who has been her companion for the past month. It’s peculiar how fast a bond between human and animal can form. There has been a connection between them since the first time Y/N saddled her up for a trail. The thought of buying the beautiful Quarter herself has crossed the cowgirl’s mind ever since she learned Bobby planned to sell her, but no matter how difficult, this is also an aspect of the business that she needs to get used to. When she will finally have her own stables in a year's time, horses will come and go. She can’t keep every one of them, and so she needs to set Joplin free.

Judging by the hollow sounds under the tent’s roof, the new owners are on their way. She can distinguish Jody’s voice, and Bobby’s too. A girl with long, brown hair and bright eyes peers over the stable door, already glancing at the beautiful horse lovingly. “I bought her new transport boots,” she announces enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t want her to get hurt on the trailer. I also got a rug for when it gets a little colder during the night. Do you think she will like that?” The teenager holds up a red, woolen rug, which matches the leg protection perfectly. Y/N chuckles at the sight. Joplin is going to get so spoiled. “Those look amazing.” She reaches for one of the boots. “Here, let me help.”

They strap on the protective wear together while Bobby, Jody, and the parents close the deal on the other side of the alleyway. After the money is counted, the ranch owner hands over the horse’s passport together with a certificate of ownership, shaking their hands once more. Y/N waits for her boss to look her way, wondering if he - as owner - should give Joplin away, but the old man gives her a friendly nod, telling her without words that she will have the honor.

“Well, I guess this is it,” she says, fumbling with the leadrope. “She’s yours now.” “Thank you,” the young cowgirl returns. “We will take good care of her. Promise.” Not trusting her voice, the Y/N smiles warmly, but there isn’t a doubt in her mind that the family will. She doesn’t want to get emotional, it wouldn’t be professional after all. And so she does her very best to blink the mist from her eyes when she offers the leadrope, handing over Joplin to her new owner.

The family who just gained an additional member exits the stables, heading to the trailers to start their journey home. The rider, the trader, and the rancher watch them leave, all with smiles on their faces. Everyone involved in this sale wins. Y/N can’t help it, though, and has to wipe a lonely tear from her cheek. Jody, who notices, wraps an arm around her shoulder, sheltering and comforting. “Sorry,” the cowgirl excuses, a little embarrassed. “Don’t be sorry, honey,” she dismisses sweetly. “Caring matters, especially when money comes into play. Someone who cares has far better judgment than someone who’s greedy. Remember that.” Y/N smiles at the wise words, storing that piece of advice with all the others she has picked up along the way.

“Pretty good ride,” Bobby compliments his intern, in his own way trying to cheer her up. “Especially at your first cutting class.” Jody glances aside at the ranch owner, not impressed with his choice of words, before pulling the cowgirl closer into a side hug. “Pretty good? Are you kidding me? You absolutely slayed it! If you’re not giving that girl a rider’s fee, I will.” “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” Y/N objects. “No, you deserve it,” he insists while leafing through the hundred dollar bills in a large envelope. “Bobby, it’s okay. I am already super grateful for everything I’m learning and the experiences that I’m gaining. You have already given me a room and a stable, not to mention Ellen’s cooking. You really don’t have to pay me.”

Y/N shortly places her hand on her boss’s to seize his actions, wanting him to stop counting. The Gold Canyon Ranch might have made good money over the past three days, yet that doesn’t mean a financial disaster is avoided. She doesn’t want a share. The old man holds her gaze and she can tell he’s wondering if either Dean or Jo have spilled a little too much information. Maybe it is because of that assumption that he settles and lets it go. “At least lemme buy you a drink, huh?” he offers before he turns to his business partner. “I just have to round a few things up with Jody here.” “Alright, see you in a bit,” Y/N returns.

As the two business partners walk off to look for a private place where Bobby can give the woman who has made the sale possible her commissioner’s fee, the cowgirl slips into the tack room. She decides to start packing, since the crew presumingly will leave in a couple of hours. She has to keep busy, but Dean breaks into thoughts straight away. Sighing deeply, the cowgirl tries to wrap her head around her boyfriend’s reasoning. His words, which had her freeze to the ground for a second as she left him with his father, still ring in her ears. She’s just an intern. Why would he say such a thing? Why hadn’t he expressed that she is his girlfriend? Why did he never mention his father to her? And if he isn’t even able to talk to her about his family, what else is he hiding?

Her train of thought is interrupted by Jo, who hastily rushes around the corner, her restless eyes searching the tack room before she checks the stables. “Have you seen Dean?” she asks, concerned. “No,” Y/N bitterly answers. “Okay, enough.” Jo places her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg. “What the hell is going on with you two?” “You tell me,” her friend responds coldly. “I was under the impression we were doing just fine until Dean wasn’t even able to introduce me. Clearly, I value our relationship more than he does.”

“What are you talking about? He’s crazy about you,” the blonde cowgirl reminds her. “Is he?” Y/N spins on her heels, finally looking her in the eye. “Because for someone who claims to care about me, he sure keeps an awful lot of secrets.” Jo sighs. “Look, I know Dean isn’t the guy who’s very chatty about those kinds of things, but what makes you say that he doesn’t care?” “Because he couldn’t even tell his family - who he failed to tell me about, by the way - that I’m his girlfriend! He told his father that I am just an int--” “Whoa whoa, wait. His father?” Her best friend stares at her bug-eyed, needing a moment to process the information. “His father is here?!” “Yeah, he showed up in the stables earlier to visit him, before I got on Joplin,” she confirms, somewhat confused by her shocked expression. Jo steps towards the intern, grabbing both her shoulders and looking at her intensely. “Are you absolutely sure?” Y/N shrugs a little, not understanding the earnesty. “He looked a lot like Dean, and he called him his son, so I’m assuming.”

Her best friend just gapes at her, her cousin’s demeanor by the warm-up ring suddenly making much more sense. If he had an encounter with his father, his entire world just got turned upside down. Judging by how messed up he was when his only living parent left him to rot when he was still a child, she can only imagine what his return after all that time has set in motion.

“We need to find Dean, now,” she says, grabbing her friend by the wrist and pulling her out of the tack room. “I’ll explain along the way.” Unsettled, Y/N fastens her pace to jog next to the ranch owner’s daughter. “Jo, what’s going on?” “Dean didn’t lie to you when he said that he hadn’t seen his family in a while. In fact, the two haven’t been in contact for fifteen years,” she explains as they exit the stables.

Stunned by the revelation, the cowgirl next to her tries to make sense of it all. Fifteen years? Why would he have cut all ties with his dad for fifteen years? She can’t possibly imagine doing such a thing. Something horrible must have happened, something beyond comprehension. “That still doesn’t explain why he described me as anything else but his girlfriend,” Y/N brings up. “Listen, you don’t know John. He is a manipulative son of a bitch who has played dirty mind games before. If Dean let on that you were just someone working at the ranch, he was trying to protect you.” Y/N stops dead in her tracks, her hand which is still entwined with Jo’s causing her friend to spin around. “He w - what?”

“You need to talk to him,” her friend insists, dragging her into motion again. “My guess is that he found a place to be alone or he’s liquoring up. Either way, your man is spiraling out of control and he's gonna need his girl in order to get out of that vicious circle.” “He - he won’t talk to me,” she stammers. “Not after how I was with him before my run. God, I can’t believe I was so self-absorbed. I thought he didn’t want me there because he was embarrassed of me, and you’re telling me he was making sure I was safe?”

Jo wishes her companion wouldn’t put herself down like that, because the blonde cowgirl honestly gets why she reacted the way she did, being unaware of the family drama. She never thought the day would come, but here she is, defending her cousin’s honor.

“Like I said; he’s crazy about you, Sis. He has never been like this with somebody else, so if there’s anyone who can through to him it’s you. He might try to--” “- push me away, I know. That’s kind of his thing. I won’t let him,” Y/N promises. Jo nods at that, glad she was able to convince her. “Good, now we just have to find him.”

They arrive at the square where all the shops are situated, most of the stand holders packing their unsold products into cars and onto trailers. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon, the skies painted with red. There are a few people around, music coming from the tent further up where the after-party is in full swing. They meet Benny at the crossing, though, who is looking for his friend as well. “Have you seen him?” Y/N asks the farrier, who has the same worried frown on his face as the girls. “I tried the trailers, but no luck,” Benny says. “Stables?” But she shakes her head. “We were just there.”

The three glance aside when a group of young guys stumbles out of the tent, alternated colored beams in their wake, coming from the disco lights inside. The concern that has Jo’s intestines in knots worsens, because if Dean has hit the bar, reasoning with him is going to be problematic.

Y/N enters the tent, backed up by the other two members of the Gold Canyon Ranch. The band plays a happy, upbeat country song that contradicts the alarming anxiety and dread that is riding her nerves like a racetrack. Frantically, she looks around, trying to identify her boyfriend amongst the crowd. She doesn’t see him in the booths on her right, nor around the dancefloor which she and Dean owned two nights prior. Once she convinces him that she understands why he said those things and that he did nothing wrong, she can wrap her arms around him again, comfort him with a kiss and ask him for another dance. He can continue to be the wonderful, supportive boyfriend, making her laugh and making her smile, lifting her up and making her feel appreciated. They can go back to how things were.

Trying to convince herself that everything is going to be fine, she moves through the mass of people towards the beer taps, when she stops suddenly, the wind being knocked from her lungs by the sight in front of her. At the end of the bar, she finds Dean. Not nursing a beer, sad and alone like she expected to find him, but in company of the same girl who was all over him on Friday night as well; Jamie. The cowboy, already intoxicated, leaning into her when the blonde whispers something in his ear, touching his arm as she does. A blind man would be able to see the chemistry, their conversation easy and carefree. The beautiful girl seated on the stool next to her boyfriend doesn’t show a sign of insecurity, her cheerful and confident personality matching Dean’s perfectly. She is everything Y/N isn’t.

Unable to move, she watches the film play out before her, a story of fun and romance that will push her story with Dean to a tragic end. Tears begin to fill her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat. A part of her hopes that he will turn around and see the devastation that his actions are causing, but he doesn’t, occupied by the gorgeous old flame which seems to have ignited something new. He doesn’t even see me, she realizes. He doesn’t see her, because once again it has been made perfectly clear she’s not worth holding on to. That has always been the case whenever it came to love, hasn’t it? So why on earth did she think that with Dean it was going to be any different? And just like that, she’s back to being invisible again.

Abruptly, Y/N turns around, desperately needing to get out of the buzzing atmosphere, but she collides with Jo the second she does. “Woah! Where are you--” Jo steadies her friend when she almost falls over, holding her by her arms. Stunned, she stares into her eyes, noticing how they are glazed over with absolute heartbreak. “What’s going on?”

But Y/N just shakes her head, moving past her hastily; she can’t stay here a second longer. The upset girl struggles towards the exit and ignores Benny, who watches her departure, perplexed. When he straightens himself again, he glances at Jo, as much confusion on his features as on hers. But when his focus locks on his buddy at the bar, his face falls. “That son of a bitch,” he mutters, his remark triggering the blonde cowgirl before him to turn around as well.

Jo’s jaw falls slack, observing as the two order another round of shots. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. She can’t believe she’s witnessing the man who she thought had made a change for the better, now making a turn for the worse. Frustration boils inside of the petite yet feisty woman, who is biting down hard on her bottom lip when she faces Benny again. “You talk some sense into him before he really crosses the line,” she directs. “I’m gonna go after Y/N and see if I can repair the damage.”

The broad-shouldered wrangler nods and watches Jo take off before he goes in the other direction. He pushes through the mass of people who are enjoying the last party of the event, all oblivious to the dramatic scene they are all a part of. He senses that the drama might become a whole lot worse if he doesn’t manage to pull Dean’s head off his ass.

“What do you think you’re doin’, brother?” Benny claps his hand on his friend’s shoulder, interrupting him before he downs the shot waiting for him on the bar. He scoffs. “What does it look like?” “Seems to me you’re about to get a lil’ too friendly with a gal that ain’t yours,” the farrier says with a lowered voice, hoping it will enlighten him. “We’re just having a drink,” Dean counters, annoyed, reaching for the glass in front of him, but Benny pushes it out of reach. “Do you think that’s what Y/N saw too when she was here just now?” Now he does get the cowboy’s attention, common sense finally pushing to the forefront. “She was here?” he questions, dumbfounded. “Yep, and you’ve got somethin’ to fix. Let’s go,” Benny suggests, his large hand flat on his companion’s back calmly pushing him off the chair and onto his feet, both men giving Jamie a short nod before they leave the party.

The fresh air slaps Dean in the face when he exits the tent, sobering him up enough to realize how bad he screwed up. He knew it was a horrible idea to do the one thing his dad always did when the pain got too much to bear; hit the alcohol and drown his sorrow. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? No matter how hard he fights, no matter how different he aspires to be, he will always be just like his father. The same ego-centric, selfish and spineless dick that breaks everything he touches.

When the two men stop in the middle of the square, Benny looks around, trying to find the girls. He doesn’t spot them sitting at any of the outside tables, nor by the restrooms. “It don’t matter, I already fucked it up anyway,” Dean mutters when his friend glances between the market shops. The farrier pauses his search and gazes at him superciliously through half-lidded eyes. “No disrespect, Chief, but what the hell is wrong with you?” “You really want me to get started on that list? Because if so, we’re gonna be here for a while,” the wrangler returns snarky, avoiding his friend’s blue eyes, taking a few steps away with his hands on his hips. “John showing up here is not y—” “Don’t!” Dean interrupts with venom in his voice, spinning around and pointing a firm finger at Benny. “Don’t you dare bring up my father.”

He’s trembling, the anger that ran in John’s blood for years now raging through his veins. Fire sets alight his insides, flames dancing in his pupils that glare at his comrade warningly. The Southerner takes a tentative step towards him, realizing he needs to get through to Dean, but has to handle the subject as carefully as possible. “You are not him. I know this,” he speaks slow. “I know you love Y/N, too.”

But Dean scoffs and shakes his head, not just denying that he does, but refusing to allow himself that kind of fulfillment. He was stupid to even think that he ever had a chance with her. It was just a matter of time before it all would come crashing down on him, ruining everything that he never deserved in the first place. He can’t love her, because if he does, she will fall victim to him, just like he did to his dad.

“Listen, brother. You’re not seein’ straight right now, but you can still make this right,” Benny continues. “You care too much about her to just throw in the towel. Remember when she first came to the ranch? You were smitten the second she walked through those doors. You called dibs on her for a reason.”

The cowboy’s shoulders rise as he inhales deeply and fall again when he blows out a breath. Of course he remembers. He remembers the first time he laid eyes on her over his poker cards, how she responded to him from across the saloon. He remembers how she gave him a run for his money when he came on too strong. He remembers how he panicked when she didn’t seem interested and the idea of her being with someone else had him strike an agreement with his best mate. He remembers the rides, their first kiss, the moment i-- “You called dibs on me?”

Stunned by the unexpected voice, both men turn to where it came from. Benny gulps thickly when he notices Y/N stepping from under the awning of one of the food trucks, Jo in her shadow. Even in the dim glow from the overhanging strings of lightbulbs, he can see her eyes shimmer with despair. “Y/N, it ain’t as bad as it s--” But the cowgirl cuts him off immediately, shooting Benny a glare. “You can stop with the Southern smooth talk. I need to talk to Dean alone.”

After exchanging looks over the course of several uncomfortable seconds, both Benny and Jo step aside, sauntering away from the couple. Once their friends have disappeared behind one of the trailers, Y/N returns her focus to her boyfriend again, her judgemental stare boring into his soul. “I asked you a question,” she repeats, managing to prevent her voice from trembling. “Did you make some kind of pact with your buddies?”

Dean doesn’t answer, but he sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. He lifts his eyes from the ground for a moment, glancing over before he averts them again. The woman standing a few feet away from him chuckles cynically; she knows enough.

“So what, women are like cattle to you? This is a funny bet?” The cowboy frustratingly shakes his head once. “You know it’s not.” “Do I?!” Y/N returns, her tone sharper and higher than anticipated. “Because if this isn’t just a game, then why did you shove me aside for some blonde broad--” “For fuck’s sake, we were just having a drink! We had this argument already!” Dean snaps, throwing his arms to the side.

Taken aback by the hostility, Y/N stares at him. She has seen this anger before, but just a glimpse of it. It was when Ash lost his job and blamed them, in particular Dean, who took the acquisitions hard. That evening it was mostly guilt that triggered the cowboy to lash out to her and the second he realized he had upset her, he apologized. But now an apology doesn’t even seem to cross his mind that is clouded by darkness far greater. At this point, she’s not sure if she would be able to accept it anyway.

“Well, it didn’t make much of a difference, now did it?” she returns after using the dreadful silence to recover. “Apparently not,” Dean scoffs, shifting his unfocused gaze aside. Mulling over the chain of events that have led to this moment, he swallows with difficulty, indignation taking off the heat for a bit, stopping it from boiling over. The calm gives Y/N enough courage to step closer. “Dean, I know today was a whirlwind. I know - I’m aware that what happened in the stables earlier has sent you into a tailspin,” she sympathizes, careful not to mention his father after witnessing his outburst with Benny when he did, “but this isn’t you.”

The disheartened guy before her huffs again, sardonic and hopeless. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Because it’s exactly who he is. This is who he was always destined to be. It’s how he was raised, it’s in his DNA. For two months he allowed himself to hope that maybe he could change, that maybe he could be better than the poor excuse of a man his father was. Y/N gave him that pipe dream, and even though it’s unreasonable to be upset with her for seeing the good in him, it’s amongst one of the many frustrations he’s experiencing.

“It is. This -” Dean points at himself, his upper lip twitching with disgust. “- this is who I am.” She shakes her head, not ready to give up. “It’s not. You are kind, loving, your heart is--” “You don’t know me!” He exclaims, running a hand through his hair and trapping the light-brown locks between his fingers before he gestures wildly. “You think you do, but you don’t have a fucking clue! I haven’t told you anything about my life--” “Then talk to me!” Y/N yells back as he turns away from her. “I CAN’T!!”

Dean is facing her again, vexation flaring in his emerald green eyes. His heart beats so vigorously that it has his entire body pulsating. He takes her in, the beautiful young woman who he fell for, and he can see that her hope is fading. It pains him to hurt her, but he’s left with no choice. Being angry with him will make things easier, though. It will help her move on. If she is going to feel sorry for him, the pity would only prompt the caring girl to hold on and try to piece the shattered shards back together, and he can’t let that happen, simply because it’s useless. He refuses to take her down with him, to burden her with the same demons that he has to live with. He can’t do that to her, not to the one he loves. She’s way too good for him, so pure, so selfless and gentle. She’s everything he shouldn’t have, everything he isn’t worthy of. It’s better this way, it’s better to end it now.

“I can’t. Who you think I am, it’s not me. I’ve been lying to you, pretending. I can’t be the person you need me to be,” he claims, calmer now that he knows what he has to do.

Y/N’s breathing picks up slightly, the air leaving her with a shudder each time. His words seem so definite already, but he can’t possibly believe that they are not right for each other, can he? All those moments they shared, all the affection he offered; that was real. That was him. Why can’t he see he’s exactly the man she needs? “And what person is that?” she questions, hoping that whatever argument he fires back, she can turn around.

Dean is quiet for a few seconds, thinking about a fitting answer. The profound fondness he feels for her begins to resurface and it’s tearing him apart. She needs to understand that the fairytale they have been living is a facade he can’t continue to maintain. Dreams never last forever, this is where they wake up. “You need a guy who is honest, who you can trust. Look at us; I can’t even bring myself to tell you about my family, my past, or anything for that matter,” he reminds her. “I knew what I was in for, Dean. I don’t expect you to spill every dark secret you think you have. You don’t have to spell out everything to be with me. We can work it out!” she argues desperately. But the cowboy shakes his head, feeling the sorrow brim in his eyes. He wants her to be right so bad, but he knows he can’t live a lie. “You don’t get it, okay? I’m a fucking mess. I did things that are unforgivable. I don’t have my shit together, but you do,” he says, a sad smile barely pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You know exactly where you wanna go in life, what you want to achieve.” She steps closer, praying that if he lets her, she can eventually bridge the space between them. “We can do that together,” she pleads with all the hope she has left. “We can’t,” he returns, having gathered every bit of strength to look at her before he pronounces the words who he knows are the truth. “This isn’t gonna work.”

The tears that have gathered become too much even for a dam to withhold roll down her cheeks now. An already unbearable ache gets worse, her heart physically hurting and taking up so much space that Y/N feels like she can’t breathe. He can’t be doing this. He can’t pull the plug, not after all the epic moments they shared. Every warm look, every gentle touch, every loving kiss; every blissful memory. How can he possibly let go of that? Refusal has her reach out to him, one last attempt to repair what is already broken. “Dean, stop… Why are you hurting me like this?” she cries.

The cowboy drops his gaze while fighting the tears and the grief for what he’s losing. He wants to reach out too, take her hand in his, but he can’t cave now, he can’t be selfish. He has to do this for her. “Because if I don’t, if I allow this to go any further, it’s gonna hurt a lot more.” Dean fixates on anything but Y/N, no longer able to endure the sight of her falling apart in front of him. It’s dreadfully quiet as if the world stopped turning, and in a way, for the two individuals in the middle of the square, it just did. “So - so what? This is it?” she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re breaking up with me?” Biting his lip now, he focuses on what this decision will offer the woman at arm’s reach. An uncomplicated life in which she can pursue her dreams without having to worry about someone dragging her down. She can be free to do whatever she wishes and that’s all he can ask for. But in order to provide her with that opportunity, he has to let her go. “Yeah. We’re over.”

Like a bullet fired from a gun, the defining words rip through her chest and pierce her heart. The silence after the shot is deafening, canceling out the sounds of their surroundings. The streaming pathways of desolation gather at the end of her chin and drip down on the dry soil, enough to darken the dust. Her eyes are glued on him, though, but he doesn’t return her gaze. The conclusion of their relationship sinks in with every passing second, leaving her soul in ruins. It’s over. They are over. And there is nothing she can do to change the course of history.

Unable to be in his presence, she forces her feet to move, turning away from the man she is no longer with. Dean can’t watch her leave, fixed on the dark earth where her tears fell just moments ago. From his peripheral vision, he notices Jo rushing by to go after her friend. Good, he thinks to himself, she’ll have someone to lean on.

After standing there for what feels like an hour, he takes a few hesitant steps towards one of the trailers, placing both hands flat on the metal, searching for something to ground him while he closes his eyes and lets his head hang. He can’t find it, though, not in the cold steel, not in his reasoning behind this brutal decision. The resentment builds again, and Dean pulls his right hand back, balls his fist, and almost puts a dent into the barrier before him. The action only confirms what he deep down knew to be true all along. All that rage, the self-hatred; he can’t bottle it up forever, so it’s for the best that Y/N will no longer be there to witness it.

Dean bends his elbows, his forearms now pressed against the iron and his forehead resting between his clenching fists, as he struggles to pull in a shaky breath. He feels like he’s imploding, the outer frame of his structure caving in on itself. His mouth falls open, his bottom lip trembling, then he allows the tears to cascade down his face.

He can sense Benny by his side, but Dean is too wrapped up in his own destruction to really acknowledge him. The comforting hand on his shoulder is a touch he barely registers, his body is already rebuilding its emotional walls, caging away his ability to feel and casting it in a permanent shadow. That’s where it will remain, encapsulated in darkness, cut out from the light that his girl had to give. Benny stays by his side, though, letting him know that he is there for his friend, as much as Jo is there for hers.

“Sis, wait,” the ranch owner’s daughter tries desperately, following the woman who just had her heart broken into the stables. Her request remains unanswered, Y/N only stopping when she has reached Meadow’s box, her hands shaking while she tries to unlock the door. When she’s unable to, Jo quickly steps in and opens the gate, holding it for her companion. The bay horse has lifted her head, alerted by the commotion in the alley, but clearly recognizes the person stepping inside. She seems confused by her owner’s frail state of mind, though, pricked ears and concerned eyes taking in the situation.

The cowgirl folds an arm around Meadow’s neck while she buries her face in the Quarter’s brown coat, then she breaks. She breaks into a million segments, lost in the mixture of wood shavings and straw underneath their feet. The air is too thin to breathe and sobs wreck her entire form.

Never in her life has she felt so unwanted, purposeless, and vulnerable as she’s feeling now. Dean let her in and she trusted him to handle her with grace, yet the second she was comfortable with this new way of being, he pushed her out. She thought she knew the man she felt such a strong connection with. Yes, she realized very early on that it was going to be difficult to get through to him. The soldier with thick armor had stacked the barricades high, but that never intimidated her. After all, she had climbed mountains before.

She gave Dean her all, but in the end, it turns out it was useless. Y/N isn’t even sure what’s real and what’s not, if the cowboy has been wearing a mask all along, or just now turned into someone that he isn’t. It doesn’t matter, though. He has made himself perfectly clear; she is not the girl he wants to be with.

The only one stopping her from collapsing is Meadow, who holds still like a statue, aware that if she moves, her owner will fall to the ground and might never be able to get up again. The horse senses exactly how to handle Y/N, the usually so spirited mare now timid and calm, picking up on the despairing energy.

Jo, who had silently slipped into the tack box to get a bottle of water and some tissues, comes back into the stable, tearing up at the sight of the two who have such a strong bond. The thousand-pound animal has curved her neck around her human, resting her large head on the cowgirl’s shoulder. As if trying to comfort her, Meadow twitches her lips, gently rubbing them against her owner’s back, her way of showing affection. People can be cruel sometimes, to others, to horses. Jo has witnessed it, and she knows Dean has too, which has ultimately led to his dreadful decision to cut Y/N loose, and by doing so he has hurt her in terrible ways himself. But at least the girl has her horse.

Meadow, who is oblivious to the reason behind her owner’s sorrow, offers solace nonetheless. Quietly, she waits until the cries die down and the tears begin to dry, and even then she stays close to her person, having a better sense of direction than most humans do. Y/N’s four-legged friend is honest, treats her with kindness, and loves her unconditionally. It’s a special connection no man can ever steal away, yet many can learn from. This incredible being is her soul horse, a term Dean has taught her, the one who she thought was going to be her partner in life until he decided otherwise. He is right, though; it is over between them. She has lost Dean’s heart, but at the end of the day, no matter what happens, she will always have Meadow.

That’s that then. They are over...

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-five here

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shirtlesssammy · 3 years

Text

6x02: Two and a Half Men

Then:

Sam Winchester’s back from Hell

Now:

A woman runs with her baby from an unseen assailant in her house. She gets herself and her baby under the bed and they stay as quiet as possible. She sees her dead husband on the floor and can barely keep it together, but does, just in time for the assailant to pull her out from the bed, leaving the baby to watch the carnage.

Dean, Lisa, and Ben start unpacking their life in their new home.

Sam checks out the murdered couple. The baby is missing.

Dean orders pizza for lunch, disregarding Lisa’s earlier promise to Ben that they’ll check the neighborhood out when they go out for lunch.

Sam confers with Grampa Campbell about the case. Something weird is happening with babies. Sam doesn’t see it, but notices that the house has a security system that wasn’t set off by the invader. They have a lead.

Dean wanders into the garage to find Ben messing around with a shotgun from Baby's trunk. He makes it VERY clear that Ben will never shoot a gun.

Ben wants to do what Dean does. Dean turns on the ol’ John Winchester charm and yells at Ben to shut up about the gun. Ben backs down and walks away, dejected.

Samuel has found another family that has the same security system --and fits the profile of the previous victims. Sam heads out to find them.

Lisa confronts Dean about his altercation with Ben. She wants to know what’s up with Dean. If they killed what was after them, why is he acting like this? She gets that he’s trying to protect them, but he’s scaring her.

Sam gets to the couple’s house only to find them already murdered. He follows bloody footprints through the house.

The murderer pops out at him and they fight. Sam slices him with a silver knife, and the wound hisses. The assailant runs away.

While Dean secures the perimeter that night, Sam calls needing his help on a case. Dean insists that he’s out. Sam tells him something so interesting that Dean meets him.

Sam saved the baby!

The next morning, Dean hands Lisa a gun, tells her to salt the doors and windows, and takes off to work the case with Sam.

First on the agenda: shopping for baby supplies. As they’re checking out, the baby starts wailing. Neither brother knows what to do --and here I want to question what the hell Dean’s thinking. Sam has an excuse re: no soul, but Dean, you’ve taken care of a baby before. Anyway, they keep looking at the poor thing like it has two heads.

A nice woman comes up to coo over the baby and asks his name. Dean answers, “Bobby” and Sam answers, “John”. Yep, the baby is named Bobby John. She offers to change his diapers for them. Dean glances over at a security monitor and sees that her eyes are glowing.

Dean declines. More specifically he says, “Give me the baby before I stab you in the neck.” Bold. The lady takes off running with Bobby John. Sam wrestles the baby from her while Dean full body tackles her to the ground. She plays the old lady card and security comes after Dean. He runs.

Sam and Dean need to get off the road, especially since the shifter caught Sam’s license plate and is now a cop tracking the number.

At a motel, Dean changes Bobby John’s diaper and then hums him to sleep with Smoke on the Water. EVERY TIME I’m sorry to say this just makes my brain emit a low, steady brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

For Tender Dean Science:

Okay, I’ve rebooted.

Sam - who has spent the whole time seated in front of research material - is impressed at Dean’s fatherly chops. But like, HE RAISED YOU, SAMMY. You must at least be able to logically analyze your memories? Dean chalks up his skillz to his recent experience parenting Ben. “I know he’s not my kid, but lately I’ve been feeling like...yeah, he is.” He’d like to raise Ben better than they grew up. In related news, do you ever want to just chew off your own arm???

Soulless!Sam informs Dean that moving Lisa and Ben from place to place is just as bad as their own fractured childhood.

Sam pushes Dean to consider that his paranoid behavior is turning him into their father. I do like that Sam is helping my girl Lisa out with the traumatized man living in her home but DAMN, SAM. While Dean broods over his failures as both a father and a partner, Sam realizes that the dad in the recent deadly home invasion is still alive. He heads out, leaving Dean to dip his finger in whiskey and let Bobby John have a taste.

Bobby John’s dad is...not bereaved. His wife was cheating on him and got pregnant. (So apparently she deserved a gruesome death? Huh. Good to know, dude.) She denied she was cheating, telling him that he’d come back early from a trip and they’d had sex. It’s fun how the layers of trauma this cold open woman goes through just get worse and worse.

At the motel, Dean’s relaxing on the vibrating bed when there’s a wet explosion from the crib. It’s not a poopy diaper! When he peers over the crib, Bobby John’s an entirely new baby. (He’s the baby on the diapers box and I really hope those parents got to keep that prop!) Sam calls with a new theory - the baby’s father is a shapeshifter!

Bobby John gets cleaned up just in time for a shady manager to knock on the door and demand to be let in. The shapeshifter cop from earlier bursts in just as Dean unlocks the door. He’s there to bring the baby to “our father,” whomever that is! They engage in fisticuffs, until Sam arrives and shoots the shifter.

Later, they’re driving off with Bobby John to find a safe haven for the little tyke. “I didn’t even know they had babies,” Sam says, of shifters. “I thought they were just freaks of nature - like, X-Men style.” Gurl, please. He refers to Bobby John as a monster, but Dean insists that Bobby John is just an innocent baby. If I had a dollar for every time this show danced around this point only to fuck off and forget it in the next episode, I’d have a lot of dollars.

Sam suggests bringing Bobby John to the Campbells to raise, which Dean thinks is a monumentally poor idea. (I’m Dean/Cas endgame BUT imagine society if Dean had brought Lisa a shapeshifter baby to raise!!!) Sam “not all hunters” the Campbells, then says that Samuel is like Dean. This is...not the slam dunk argument Sam thinks it is. “I’m a freakin’ head case,” Dean rebuts and it is a SOLID REBUTTAL. Still, they head to the Campbell’s compound.

And it is a literal compound, with armed guards standing patrol at the metal gates. In the grim main building, cold Campbells circle Dean and Bobby John like sharks. All the Campbells look like they’re one step away from taking a knife to the baby. Dean refuses to hand over Bobby John to any of the “family.” Sam asks to hold Bobby John. Sam then immediately turns around and hands Bobby John over to Samuel and I CHEW MY OWN ARM OFF I HATE SOULLESS!SAM sometimes. Dean wants to know what the plan is now.

All the dark looks shot between the Campbells make me want to scream, and then weep.

Dean’s worried about the Campbells wanting to study Bobby John (in the mad scientist way) and Christian Campbell laconically comments that Dean’s mind goes straight to torture. When Dean demands an explanation, it’s revealed that the Campbells know aaalllll about Dean’s torture time in Hell.

The Campbells also fantasize about what a great hunter a shapeshifter will make. Samuel demands that Dean trust him, and then interrogates Christian about his baby-making failures with his wife. He offers Bobby John to Christian. “The crap I do for this family,” Christian mutters as he takes the baby. READERRRRRRRRRS, I hate him.

Outside, a dog yelps. Dean and Sam flee for the panic room with Bobby John while the Campbells load up with weapons. A shapeshifter arrives, wearing Samuel’s face. They tranquilize him after a fight, and try to take him prisoner.

The shifter heads down to the panic room wearing Sam’s face, tosses Sam across the room, and then just...shimmers himself into Dean’s form.

The shifter pins Dean against the wall, cutting off his air until he passes out. He then takes Bobby John and calmly walks out.

Later, they all reconvene after the fight. Samuel reveals that the shifter was an alpha shifter, who spawned all the other shifters. “The lore” also says that an alpha can sense their babies anywhere.

As Dean and Sam walk out to the car, Dean goes over the details of the hunt. He wants to know if Sam registered what the shifter at the motel had said about his “father.” Sam lies incredibly poorly, but Dean puts it all together. If Sam knew the alpha was on the hunt, then he would have known that he would come after Bobby John. Dean wants to know if he was using the baby as bait. Sam plays it off - he just thought the Campbell compound was the safest place. UGH DOUBLE UGH at all the terrible layers.

Samuel has a brief phone call, complaining to an unknown boss about how hard it was to try to take the alpha shifter prisoner.

Back at Lisa’s, Dean frets about the best way to keep Lisa and Ben safe. He acknowledges that he’s been acting like a prison guard. “You tell yourself you’re not gonna be something...my dad was exactly like this. All the time. Scared the hell outta me.” Lisa tells him that she knows one thing:

She looks at him, and sees someone who wants to hunt. But she also tells him that he sees himself as “some bad, awful thing. But you're not.” She proposes that Dean head out to hunt with his brother, and stop by when he can. Maybe they can have it all!

Dean smiles a real, honest smile in the garage as he pulls the car cover from Baby. Smoke on the Water plays us through a truly gratuitous hot rod close-up of Baby. The curves! The headlights!

For I’m Just Gonna Give You Two the Room Science:

Dean is back in town!

Baby Quotes:

So either we've got monsters grabbing babies to make baby stew, or we've got a bunch of psychotic yokels grabbing babies to make baby stew. Either way, it's baby stew, which is bad

You think I speak baby?

I've never seen a baby monster before

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #Lisa Braeden #Samuel Campbell #Ben Braeden #spn 6x02 #two and a half men #supernatural season 6

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mpregdextermorgan · 3 years

Text

a johnzazel wedding special (john/azazel, T, 1k) AN: i wrote this in an hour and a half this morning and barely read over it.

The heavy, ornate brass doors open, and John steps into the celebration hall.

His heart is light, about three steps above where it ought to be. This is the greatest day of his life. For the first time, he is about to be married to his true love — someone he’d never have thought he’d come to love in the first place: Azazel, Prince of Hell.

One deal-sealing kiss in a hospital basement does bring a lot of reconsiderations in the lives of a demon noble and a veteran hunter. John remembers the handyman’s lips against his, exchanging his soul for his son’s life, and realizing with cold clarity what all this years-long’s search had been about.

While he was tracking demonic omens across the United States, finding reliable psychics and hoodoo priests through word-of-mouth, journaling obsessively about his search — he’d wanted Azazel. He’d thought it was deep-seated hate all along. But kissing him… Kissing Mary never felt like that. It felt evident, sensible, sure. Kissing the demon, though, felt like a choice, a want. He’d chosen to pursue him all these years with the intent to kill him. He’d chosen to exchange his life for his son’s. And now, he’d chosen to love Azazel.

(Later, after they’d been together a while, Azazel would tell him that he’d similarly felt stunned by his soul, its strength and beauty. That had been enough to make him reconsider his allegiances. And, well. If they hadn’t been engaged then, John would have proposed again.)

The hall’s ceiling is tall, gothic. John and his fiancé had decided against a church, to ease their guest’s attending. Not that John loved his groom’s guests that much. If it were up to him, he’d have had a smaller wedding — intimate, just closer friends and family, some of Azazel’s higher-ranking aides if they must attend. This moment is too important in his life for him to broadcast it to so many. Alas, Hell is about politics, and Azazel wouldn’t skip an opportunity to solidify his standing as important as this one. Well. John loves him. It’s fine. It’s worth it.

He looks for his sons on the left-hand side. He does feel slightly guilty that the mission for which he raised them as warriors ended, well, this way. But this is the outcome that feels the most right to him. Revenge for a lost love ending with a found love — nothing’s more poetic than that.

Dean’s taking a swig out of his flask. It pinches John’s heart that it’s so hard for him to be happy for his father and the man his father loves, be it homophobia or rancor. (John did propose to Azazel at Dean’s “wedding” to his car. In John’s defense, he had no idea it was even a “wedding”. And the idea of getting “married” to a car is simply preposterous.) Sam’s holding Dean’s shoulder in support, but also searching for his father’s gaze. He’s been so gracious about this whole thing. John feels, not for the first time, a tiny bit guilty about their fraught past.

Sam’s girlfriend Ruby sits beside him, arms crossed, a bit surly. Azazel and John had to kill Lilith much earlier than planned to avoid that whole Apocalypse thing, which would’ve foiled their honeymoon plans. At least she and Sam reconciled after he learned she’d lied to him this whole time. He’s holding her around the waist with his other arm.

John and Sam cross gazes. Sam offers silent congratulations, encouragement, blessings. John nods once in answer, and tries not to show how touched he is. The small smile Sam forms tells him he failed.

Rufus and Bobby are there. They’re far apart on their pew, which tells John they’ve been fighting again. At least they’re putting on a polite face for the ceremony, and John appreciates they’ll wait until the reception to make a scene. Their third, a demon named Crowley, isn’t there. He’s had beef with enough demons in this room that attending would probably be a suicide mission for him. John understands.

He throws a quick glance to Azazel’s side of the aisle. Some of his kids are there — Meg and Tom he knows best. He knows that for a while Meg and Dean were trying to break him and Azazel up, but of course hadn’t succeeded. Someone sits between the siblings but isn’t looking back — by the trench coat, probably Dean’s angel. John feels emotional that he even would think to attend.

Mary’s not here. It’s fine. She’d told him it’d be too hard for her, but she wished them her best. John understood. He’s not sure he’d be able to see her tie the knot with Dagon. Azazel told him about Heaven’s plan to bring them together through Cupids and such, a while after they’d begun dating — he’d just found out, from torturing angels to find Lilith. John had told Mary, who was back somehow, and their attraction to each other faded. Now, that whole relationship, which had felt so glorious and precious at the time, left him a bitter taste in the mouth. He wasn’t too sure what he’d seen in her in the first place.

But he knew what he saw in Azazel.

He stands up straight at the altar, in a red tuxedo over his handyman’s shell, overjoyed underneath his usual composure. John knows he’s the only person in the room who’s able to read this expression, that it is meant for him and no one else, and his heart bursts with love again.

He loves this man. They are meant to be together, and they’re getting married.

And just like that, he’s at the end of the altar. Enlisted demons at the back of the hall close the excerpt from a concerto they’d been instructed to play, and stay silent. John stands across from Azazel, before the altar. Garth begins his reading from a text Azazel insisted was foundational to demons. John trusts him. He can’t listen to the verses. Azazel’s eyes are pretty as always — clouded, sulphuric yellow. He could look into them forever — and from now he’ll be able to.

John takes his groom’s hands. His heart is six steps above where it’s supposed to be.

#yea i'm not putting this on my sideblog #johnzazel #johnzazel wedding #my writing

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manawhaat · 4 years

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Howl

Title: Howl

Characters: Alpha!John x Omega!Reader, previous Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam, Jody Mills.

Summary: After spending twelve-hundred years in hell, John Winchester is spit out and lands on The Bunker’s doorstep while you’re away on a case. Sam and Dean insist you stay away until they can help him let go of the Alpha inside him and become human again. But when the bunker unexpectedly locks down the day you return home, you find yourself trapped inside with an Alpha who’s more monster than man.

Prompts: (This fic covers 3 challenges.)

@flamencodiva 1700 challenge - “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

@firefly-in-darkness summer-challenge - Limerence – the state of being infatuated with another person

@wi-deangirl77 Supernatural Schitt Challenge - “Let’s not ruin a meal by talking about the process.”

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, slight angst, dub-con, fear kink, scent kink, blood/minor blood play, hunter/prey dynamics, extreme pining, heat sickness, allusions to stalking, creepy!John, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, biting/scratching, claiming/knotting, breeding kink, true mates, cum play.

Word Count: 7.3k (not even a little bit sorry)

A/N: Huge, huge, HUGE thank you to @mrswhozeewhatsis for helping me make this what it is. You seriously elevate every single story you touch. Hell, you elevate EVERYTHING you touch! @sebbytrash and @sherrybaby14 also did kickass jobs betaing. I had a rough idea about this for a bit before I started to develop it and as soon as I started actually writing, I ended up signing up for a couple challenges, so this fic kills three challenges with one alpha. I liked a lot of quotes in Vanessa’s challenge so there’s actually 4 of them in here even though I only signed up for the one.

Lemme know if you like it, and maybe support my writing❤️❤️

“What do you mean John is back?”

Jody stops in her tracks and her face is a mirror image of yours, so you switch Sam to speaker and hold the phone between you and her.

“He’s back, Y/n.” Sam sighs, voice strained with exhaustion and confusion. “It’s him. He’s not missing a soul or anything but, uhh, he’s… different.”

“Different how?” A million things are running through your brain and you can only imagine what the boys must be thinking.

Shuffling fills your ear, quickly followed by the heavy creak of the bunker’s front door. His voice is quiet when he answers. “He was down there for a long time. It’s like it warped him. He’s-” Sam pauses, searching for the right word before landing on- “feral.”

Jody’s eyebrows shoot up and she clarifies, “Feral?”

Sam huffs. “Yeah. I mean, he’s only been back for a couple of days but the more we watch him and talk to him it’s like he’s more Alpha than human. Jody, I know you guys wrapped up your case but would it be okay if Y/n stayed with you for a bit?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you scoff. “I dealt with your soulless ass and Dean as an actual fucking demon. I can handle a little more testosterone than normal.”

“No.” The voice belongs to Dean. “I’m serious, Y/n. This isn’t like me or Sam in a rut. He was down there for twelve-hundred years. He’s stronger than before he went down there and he’s not himself. Hell really did a number on him. There are some serious red flags here, sweetheart. He’s dangerous, and if something were to happen I’m not sure that we’d be able to protect you.”

“Jesus” Jody breathes.

The length of time put into words makes your stomach churn. The idea of anyone, anything spending so long in hell only to resurface is more than enough to send shivers up your spine.

“We’re not trying to get rid of you. We just need some time to figure things out. He’s barely-” Sam’s voice cracks- “he’s barely human, Y/n. Just give us enough time to make sure you’ll be safe around him, okay?”

Your eyes meet Jody’s and she shoots you a look that says you should listen to them. Making the guys go through this alone fucking sucks, but you trust them. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep my distance. But please keep me updated and let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Sam and Dean sigh in relief. “We will. Thanks, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon.”

The guys keep you up to date and a little over a month has passed when you start to feel you’ve overstayed your welcome at Jody’s. You all decide it's time for you to come home and you’re off the following morning.

The drive is long but pleasant and the sight of the bunker looming in the distance is a comfort as you draw near. The iron door swings open and your friends emerge with smiles on their faces, waiting for you to park and get out before crowding you at once.

As they approach, you pick something on the breeze that you’ve never smelled before. Sam pulls you in and the warm spice wafting in the air makes you press your body into his, a little too close, too intimately. He rumbles out a laugh and you just purr in response, letting him feel the heave of your chest against his. It’s only when Dean practically peels you away from his brother that you let yourself moan into Dean’s neck, running your fingers through the back of his hair to pull him closer and get a better whiff.

“God, you guys smell so fucking good,” you admit.

Sam’s brows furrow and he asks if you’re due for a heat.

“Nope. I’ve been taking my pills… Maybe I just missed you guys!” You wink and Dean squeezes your sides, but you playfully slap him away with a broad smile. “Actually, the gift you want is in the trunk. Let me take this stuff in and I’ll come back and help you with the rest,” you promise. “Oh, and where’s John?”

“Went for a walk. He’ll be back in a bit and we’ll introduce you then.”

They rush off to your car while you head inside. The creaky slam behind you is followed by the alarmingly loud clacks and clunks of multiple locks setting into place, the sounds enough to set you on high alert. The lights don’t kick off, so you’re sure the bunker isn’t in full lock down, but before you can investigate the locked door you’re suddenly struck with the scent that you smelled on them outside, It sends a cramp through your belly and you take a deep breath to combat it, almost tasting the air until you’re interrupted when your phone rings. Dean’s face pops up on your screen and you answer the call to hear his voice, light and playful.

“Hey, what the hell? Open up. I know you’re excited to be home, but c’mon. We live here too,” Dean says, half laughing.

When you try the handle, it’s stuck in place. “It’s locked from the inside. I didn’t even touch it.”

“Son of a bitch.”

You stay on the line with him while they try their key from the outside. It doesn’t work and when they point you to the manual lever along the wall, it doesn’t budge. You can’t find any external locks to try on your side so you head down to the war room to try the mechanical system override.

A wave of dizziness washes over you when your foot hits the bunker floor off the bottom of the staircase, but you steel yourself and search the room for what you’re looking for. As if fate is against you, the search is aborted by the wash of a fever flooding your body.

It only takes a minute or two, but emotions and hormones slam through you at an alarming rate. Your heart and brain race as your body temperature kicks up a few degrees.

No, no, no. I’m taking suppressants. This can’t be happening. How is this happening so fast?

Sam and Dean are audibly yelling outside and through your phone, bickering about how to get into the bunker and that they should have known you’d go into heat upon returning to the smell of them. But their worried voices are muffled by a fog that comes over you, and somewhere in the bunker there’s a low growl that has your ears perking up. The sound is so faint you’re not sure it’s even real, until it comes again.

Your blood runs cold and you grip the phone tight in your hand, eyes wide as you look into the dark expanse of the bunker. “Guys… I think I just heard something.”

Their efforts to break down the front door stop cold. “What did you hear?”

Just then, the growl comes again and sends shivers up your spine. It’s the voice of a predator somewhere in the depths of the bunker you’re trapped in.

“I- I don’t think I’m alone in here.”

The fever and pain in your lower belly spike again and you’re almost crippled by the scent in the air. It’s faint but your body would know it anywhere, and before you can think about it you’re thrust into a strong and sudden heat that has you boiling and worried. Fresh slick gushes through your core, leaking into your underwear as you moan lewdly, clinging to the wall for support.

“Oh, fuck. Alpha!”

The phone remains loosely held in your grip but it’s dropped to your side as you rush through the halls, completely oblivious to Dean calling your name and warning you to stay where you are.

Every step you take has your body buzzing harder and harder. The sounds have stopped but the scent is getting stronger. Your mouth is dry with need and your body is almost reaching its peak just on the pulse of sheer power you’re being drawn in by.

The door to the dungeon is in front of you when your feet finally stop. Part of you registers that you’ve moved through the entire bunker in a matter of seconds, and wants you to stop and think about that for a minute, but the energy surging through your blood urges you to reach out and open the door.

“Don’t open that door!”

The voice booms through your skull, echoes off the bunker walls, shocks you, and fills your body with cold dread. Flinching back in surprise, your back hits the wall and you suddenly remember Dean on the phone. He’s rambling, but you cut him off with worry and lust fighting for dominance in your heart.

“Dean, I can feel him,” you admit, not even realizing it until after the words have echoed back at you in Dean’s voice.

“Don’t go in that room,” he warns. Commands. Your inner omega should be cowering. That’s twice you’ve been told and yet your body is quickly starting to think those words are more of a dare than a warning.

“It’s him, isn’t it? It’s John.”

A groan slithers through the cracks of the door at the sound of his name on your tongue and you know you’re right.

“He must have gotten back without us noticing. He’s dangerous, Y/n. Do not go into that room. Come back and help us find a way to get you outta there before you get hurt!”

You register the guys talking to you, yelling at you, warning you and begging you, but your body is moving on its own accord.

“Omega, stop!” John barks at you from the dungeon and you whine with need, sinking to your knees and taking in shaky breaths.

Sam’s voice catches your attention and you hear him in the middle of his sentence. “...away from there. Go to your room, take another suppressant and use your toys to calm down. Please don’t argue. If you’re going into heat then you need to leave right now. You aren’t safe there.”

Picking yourself up off the ground, you shake your head and try to break the spell. They’ve kept you away for a reason and if the guys are this worried, you should probably try to listen to them. Four steps is all you manage to take before the pain in your lower belly becomes too much and you slump against the wall. Now that you’ve been this close to the caged alpha, your body won’t let you leave.

“Guys,” you pant, sucking in ragged breaths to steel yourself from the pain. You take another two steps and collapse, screaming in agony as your nerves shred themselves, ripping themselves apart trying to escape your body and get closer to John.

Chains rattle, metal scrapes in the dungeon, and the snarls that burst from John’s chest have Sam and Dean calling for you through the phone. You grip it tight, crawl back down the hall, and sigh in relief as you give your body what it wants and the pain eases. When you settle against the wall across the hallway, the distressed sounds behind the dungeon door calm.

“I can’t.”

Hot tears prick at your eyes as you stare at that door in horror and need. You’ve hated being a weak omega with little to no say over your own life since the day you presented, and now what little control you’ve managed to find (with the help of the brothers) is slipping through your fingers. You don’t want this, but you are completely and utterly unable to deny it.

“I can’t leave. I need him.”

Soft sobs are the last thing the boys hear tumble from your mouth before you hang up and toss the phone away.

If you can’t leave, you’re gonna stay and do everything you can to listen to the men in your life. So you tear open your jeans and stuff your hands inside, desperate to quell the throbbing between your legs and gain back some semblance of control over your body.

On instinct, your mind goes to Dean. He’s been exactly who you needed him to be and he’s never let you down. Every touch serves a purpose, and his skill always afforded you the luxury of being in expert hands. But here and now, the more you think about him, the less you can remember; not the feel of his fingers inside you, let alone the taste of his tongue or girth of his knot when it’s locked you together.

A cry of Dean’s name fills the air, as if calling out to him will magically bring him to you. Will restore the memory and give you the headway you need. But Dean’s pushed out of your mind and before you realize, the images that fill your brain are of the man behind the door. Photos you’ve seen in passing over the years in Sam and Dean’s rooms and journals. The memories are a little fuzzy, but you have enough of the mental image to piece him together. Broad shoulders, thick neck, long legs, and strong hands.

Choking on desire, you’re frozen still and silent, pussy fluttering wetly around two fingers. An angry rattle of chains meets your ears on the other side of the door and you push your fingers through your folds for him, for the alpha you’ve yet to meet. The stranger that’s sent you tumbling down into this overwhelming heat.

“I can smell what you’re doin’ sweetheart,” he says through the door, and you hear him inhale long and slow; you know that he’s savoring the smell of your dripping cunt.

It’s enough to have you kicking off your pants and tearing off your shirt. The air around you is sweltering and your clothes are already soaked with sweat and slick. Your panties are wet against the back of your hand as you fuck yourself dizzy, try desperately to run from that pain and the overwhelming inevitable that’s flaring in your blood the longer you sit outside the dungeon.

Unbearable pain vibrates through your cells as you reach an almost orgasm. Everything is a blur and your tongue is heavy and dry in your mouth. You’re slowly suffocating and going blind, burning and dying. Heat sickness has always been a myth in your mind, but now you’re feeling it and you cry out in fear and frustration, worried that this might just be how you die. As if he can hear your thoughts, as if he can feel you growing weaker with every passing minute, your alpha rages and a roar booms through the bunker. It’s not anger or lust, but fear, and it matches your own.

You muster your strength and bravery, crawl across the hall and finally push open the dungeon door. Heat spills from the room and it’s musty with the pheromones he’s putting in the air, the sweat on his skin, and the need in his blood.

Wrenching back the shelves, you meet John Winchester face to face for the first time. He’s sitting in the middle of the dungeon in jeans and a flannel shirt. It’s buttoned over a black t-shirt and his sleeves are rolled enough for you to see the raised veins on his forearms. Chains and rope surround his body, strapping him tightly to the iron chair in the center of the room.

As you step closer, your initial analysis of his bindings is wrong. The padlock is near his right hand, the knots of rope at his hands are sloppy, and the chains on his upper body give him enough room to move a little against them. The only one that’s really secure is the padlocked chain collar around his neck.

“Like my handiwork?” he asks as you eye him. “Tied the knots and wrapped these chains, myself… but these won’t hold. I don’t want to hurt you, but I won’t be able to stop when I get out. And I will get out.”

John shifts against the bindings as you step closer, bares his teeth to reveal elongated canines that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The veins in his neck are clear and visible, blood pumping through them hard and fast, and his teeth bite into his lower lip when you step into the devil’s trap.

Drops of blood spill out of his mouth and a shudder wracks through you- he’s hurting himself in his effort to stay still- but you can’t control yourself. You’re too far gone now that you’re this close.

“I need you, John. Need your knot. Need you inside me. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

The words are the first you’ve spoken to him and they surprise you both. John hardens himself, slams his eyes shut and strains in this seat, holding himself as far away from you as possible until you rip your underwear off your body as a show of your desperation.

The scent of your soaked pussy makes his blood boil and a roar builds deep in his chest to explode out of his mouth. His body writhes with the force of it but in a flash the powerful sound turns into a menacing cackle. Wild eyes widen up at you and his blood-stained teeth have your full attention when his tongue tracks over them.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re gonna taste so good.” His hands grip at the arms of the chair, thick, sharp claws dig into the wood enough for it to splinter. “I’m gonna tear you apart,” he laughs, full bodied, crows feet at his eyes, mouth split wide open on his face.

Part of you doesn’t want to believe him. There’s a throb in your core that calls out for him, that yearns to feel his lips and skin against yours. Slick pools between your legs and John sucks in a long, harsh, deep breath, pupils expanding as he savors your scent.

“You think this is a game, baby girl?” Your pussy flutters at his words, even as his demeanor darkens further. “You’re gonna bleed, just like all those people on my rack in hell. Gonna sink my claws into you, see where you rip and where you hold up, see how hard I have to bite to get you to beg me to stop. Gonna break your bones and give it to you harder when that little omega pussy is busted open and bleeding around me. Stick around, send me into this rut and you’ll be wishing you never set foot in this bunker. That’s a fuckin’ promise.”

The thought of being torn apart is that of nightmares. Dean had rough ruts after hell, but he was right: John is dangerous. Every rational thought in your brain is telling you to run, to find a way back to Dean, but there’s an electricity in the air that tugs your ions closer to his.

His eyes are dark and stormy, the muddy wash bordering on red, and salt and pepper spread through his dark hair and the beard clinging to his strong jaw. Tentatively, your hands reach out for him and he hisses, jumps at you with dripping teeth and dark eyes, guttural sounds tearing from his throat as he struggles to get to you.

In an effort to sate your heat and keep your distance, a dizzying compromise lands at your feet. If you can take what you need from him, you might be able to gain the higher ground. If you give your heat what it wants fast enough, you can outrun him and gain control of your body again. Only half of your heart believes it, but you can’t stop yourself from easing into his lap to test the theory.

Heat sears your crotch where you grind down onto him, rolls off of him in waves that leave you in a cold sweat. “Will you come to my funeral, John? Will you watch me burn to a pile of ash on a shitty pyre? Because you’re gonna have to if I don’t do this… if you don’t knot me right fucking now.”

“I might have to either way, darlin’,” he growls, the chain collar around his neck clunking and rattling with his effort to both get closer to you and keep away all at the same time. The blood on his lower lip forms into a fat drop, lingers on his skin like it doesn’t want to leave, and you watch it fall and land on your inner thigh where you’re straddling him.

Even with his dark promises, your hands hastily pluck apart the buttons of his jeans and pull the material down to reveal a thick shaft surrounded by dark hair. He’s rock hard in your hands and before you can waste any more time your pussy is stretched open around him, every inch of his throbbing cock stuffed inside your slick walls.

You sigh contentedly as your heat settles, now that it has a taste of what it wants. Just having him inside you feels better than anything you’ve ever felt before, and a ragged howl escapes his throat at the rough slams of your hips down into his when you finally start to move.

Everything stands still while you take what you need from the alpha beneath you, claim him as your own with high pitched whimpers of his name, giving in to your most primal instincts. Every thrust has the two of you reeling toward the edge of bliss embarrassingly fast, and you grip his hair to force his eyes to yours when you’re close.

“Watch me, John. Watch me cum for you.”

Your efforts double, you slam your mouth into his, taste him for the first time, and cry out against his lips as the tingle of your orgasm spreads through your belly and explodes through you. The feel of you coming around him pushes John past the point of no return and into his rut. He’s tried to hold back, tried to tame the animal inside and protect you the way a good alpha should, but each buck of your hips has him barreling into a rut that you can smell, stifling and hot with a hint of sulfur, while you tremble in his lap and ride out your pleasure.

John’s eyes change- swirl from deep brown into an onyx wash that clears into a deep red that mirrors the emergency lights of the bunker. His body shakes and spikes another ten degrees in an instant and when you’re sure he’s about to actually catch on fire, an electric pulse consumes him, and then you. The surge shoots out of your bodies and the bunker lights flash with loud sparking pops before instant darkness falls through the bunker.

The red emergency lights and bright white flood lights kick a moment later, just in time for you to see John’s muscles tensing as he pulls at the chains he’s wrapped in, his rut taking him to full power. They groan and creak, and it’s when one snaps with a loud rattle that you realize the true strength of him.

“Oh my god.” You cower in awe, hormones no longer fuzzing your brain, before scrambling out of his lap. However, you’re not quite quick enough to facilitate your escape.

“You’re mine.”

A thick arm wraps around your back, and you shriek at the sharp sting of his claws on your hip. His one-handed attempt to keep you there with him draws blood, and you desperately wriggle out of his hold and off of his lap before rushing off into the bunker.

Two hallways pass by your sides before the clamor of breaking chain and splintering wood rattles into the bunker and stops you in your tracks. The wolf in him cries out for you, and a primal part of you is desperate to howl back. An eerie silence follows, sinks in bone deep, and you clap a hand over your mouth to stay quiet when you start moving again.

You don’t get very far before you walk into a brick wall of his scent, tumbling further under a tall, crashing wave of heat trying to drag you down to the depths of a hellfire made of a Winchester. The scent of the alpha radiates strong and insistent, and the door shuts quietly behind you as you slip inside, eyes keenly observing your room drenched in John’s scent.

At first glance, you see no differences, but the weight of the air tells you to look closer, and when you do you find that everything in your room is slightly off; as if all of your personal possessions have been picked through but weren’t put back into their rightful place.

The sheets on the bed have clearly been slept in and a pair of your underwear on the ground catch your eye. The soft pink material is moist when you pick them up and the smell that wafts up from them is unmistakable.They fall to the ground without a sound and you shakily wipe John’s cum off of your hands onto your sheets with a grimace of repulsion. How many times had he used your clothes for his pleasure? How many times had he laid in your bed, eyed the photos of your long gone family and defiled your intimacy?

John hadn’t even met you, yet, but from the time the boys brought him home he’s picked you open and left you exposed, vulnerable, and violated. He’s been living in the walls of your home, spending his nights in your bed just waiting for his moment to strike. The thought leaves your legs weak beneath you and you suddenly can’t breathe.

Bursting out of your room, you cling to the walls for support, searing pressure building in your lower belly as you move. If you’re in pain, you must be getting farther away from him. The hope in that thought is enough to stifle the pain and you’re crawling toward the library when your name is howled out into the bunker.

“Alpha,” you moan back against your own will, hands clapping over your mouth in an effort to stop the sound that’s already made its escape.

Two steps forward, five steps back.

Soft shuffling off in the distance switches directions and you know that John heard you call out for him. Panic bubbles in your blood and you battle pain, confusion, and need as you turn left toward your imminent escape path, eyes cast behind you in apprehension. You make it less than halfway down the long hall before you turn your eyes forward, finally sure that you’re on the path to freedom.

Stopping in your tracks, you stare in horror at the dead end before you. In your panic, you realize that you were supposed to turn right to get out, and you’ve just sealed your fate with one wrong turn.

Adrenaline and defeat kick around in your body and you know he’s going to find you. On cue, your body grows warmer, slicker and needier for him, and an electric crackle fills the air, telling you he’s getting close. He knows your scent too well and though you can’t see him, you’ve already been caught. Running will only make you weaker, so your stand still, waiting for the inevitable.

Soft shuffling has your ears pricking up at attention and your heart stops when you finally muster the gall to turn around and face your fate. John’s looming at the end of the hall, standing stock still just long enough for your pussy to leak and flutter for him. It’s that reaction that has him barreling down the hall on all fours like an animal, red eyes gleaming, claws scraping at the floor. He’s the most feral, lethal predator you’ve ever seen and this is what Sam and Dean warned you about. This is how you’ll meet your end- throat torn out by this hell sent Alpha with a cursed last name.

The child in your soul is the first to react, and your hands fly to cover your eyes. Maybe if you squeeze them shut tight hard enough you’ll wake up from this bad dream. Maybe you’ll be able to crawl back into your mother’s bed and find safety in her arms instead of death in John’s.

Your palms press painfully hard against your eyelids while you wait for the hit that never comes. What feels like years pass without a sound, and when you finally let your hands fall from your eyes all you can see is John’s mouth, the tension at the corners where he’s trying to restrain the snarl, white teeth practically dripping.

Body trembling and petrified at the way you pine for him, this wild stranger in front of you, your feet take a step closer to him without your permission. When your chest presses to his, the tears finally roll down your cheek and his mouth slams into yours. He hauls you up off the ground and your legs wrap around his waist before you’re slammed against the wall. All it takes is a slight shift of his hips and he’s inside of you again, splitting you open and swallowing your cries. He spins and a door breaks against the bottom of his boot a few seconds later, clattering to the floor while he lays you down on the bed and fucks an orgasm out of you with splinters still in your hair.

The orgasm hits hard and you’re still writhing in pleasure when John pulls out, shoves you up the bed, and pushes his mouth as far between your legs as it can go. He’s only just begun, but you’ve never been touched this way- this profound or this intensely. If you weren’t still in a blur, you’d be wondering how long John’s waited to worship someone like this.

Every lungful of air you’re able to suck in sticks heavy in your chest and throat. There’s a weight to the room that feels like you’re on another planet. In another dimension. All you can manage are gasps and moans and you finally splutter out ‘how?!’ because your brain literally cannot understand it. How can this feel so good? How can this possibly feel so right? How does he fit here so well?

He grins up at you, fire in his wild gleaming eyes when he growls, “Let’s not ruin a meal by talking about the process.”

As he devours you, takes you apart piece by piece, his lust-blown eyes shine up at you. They hold a lifetime of secrets and your body steals any semblance of control you might have been holding onto, bucks up into his mouth, pushes itself into his hands.

John holds you like you’re the most important thing he’s ever beheld. His infatuation and reverence sparks an epiphany. The monster between your legs isn’t donning a mask. John is a mirror, clear and revealing, exposing a part of you that you never knew you had before.

You moan his name, voice hard and eager to please. Eager to be pleased, filled, fucked ten ways to Sunday. You want John to ruin you, split you open with that cock and make you a ragged shell for nothing but pleasure and pups. The more he takes of you the more you want him; and the more you give in, the less afraid you are--of him and of your own desire.

John fucks you raw and hard like an animal, bruises your wrists and sinks his teeth into your body, breaking the skin here and there, licks and sucks marks between the bites he has no control over. What started as worship turns to chaos, and true to his word, he doesn’t relent, not even when you’re begging for mercy. Claws leave raised welts and lines of blood over your body as he digs his hands into your flesh, pushes and pulls you where he wants you, handling you like a rag doll for his pleasure.

The sheets beneath you are bloody and somewhere in his frenzied mating you feel yourself tearing around him in a sharp sting. A moment later, your inner thighs are wet with blood and slick and the wet squelch only has him bucking into you deeper and faster. Salty tears run down your cheeks as you cry out, but John ignores them and suffocates you beneath him. His claws scratch at your skin when he wraps a hand around your neck and grunts into your ear.

“Right here, Y/n. That’s where my mark is going. You ready for it?”

The question goes unanswered; all you can manage are strangled groans of ‘alpha’ and sobs of pain and fear before his pace speeds up. His knot throbs inside of you, stretches your walls that much more, and he pulls back enough to look down at you.

Tears litter your cheeks and you’re flushed, wrecked, and battered under his hands. John drives in deep with a smile on his mouth, savors the way you wince in pain at the feel of him slamming against your cervix like he’s trying to fuck your womb.

Long canines bite down hard where your neck and shoulder meet as John slams into you one final time. The red floodlights bathing the scene flicker and surge as your energies peak. His knot pops deep inside, painfully thick, locking him in place as he cums with a roaring howl that matches your own. The sound is guttural, primal, filled with pleasure and pain, and loud enough for Sam and Dean to hear from outside.

--------------------

An hour after he’s claimed you and his knot has popped inside of you, you lay in his arms, unsure of everything other than the fact that you belong there. That John belongs inside of you, pressed deep and eternal. Every bit of your body hurts and his hands smooth over you, gentler than you even think possible, like a monster soothing a lamb before the slaughter. The white gleam of the flood lights in the hall outside illuminate the side of his face when he smiles softly down at you, his teeth and hands still stained with your blood.

Fear has a hold on you, hasn’t fully let you go yet. John is a stranger to you but here you are, clinging to his warm chest, body and soul marked as his in every way, forever. There’s a depth to his mossy brown eyes that reminds you of the men on the outside. Of Dean. The alpha who’s cared for you in the past, taken you in, and given you a home and family to love like your own.

It seems a lifetime ago since you were in this same position with Dean. From the first time you met, every heat and rut you went through, you went through together. The memories of how he used to kiss you, soft and comforting, and tell you cute jokes while his knot deflated send flickering warmth through your heart. But all too quickly, the happy memory is followed by a pang of hurt shooting through you.

Like magnets, you were drawn to each other, but Dean never claimed you because deep down you both knew that you weren’t his to have. Now, with John’s mark on your neck, heats and ruts with Dean are gone and you can’t help but wonder what the future will hold. If every heat and rut will feel like this one, or if you might be lucky enough to get a glimpse of the caring, playful alpha of your past. Tears roll down your cheeks and your mouth quivers at the thought of living with such brutality.

“You have his eyes,” you finally say, unable to keep the thought of Dean to yourself any longer. His brow furrows and you clear your throat. “Dean’s eyes.” He doesn’t respond, just levels you with a look you can’t place. “Well, I guess he has yours.”

A hasty kiss cuts off any other thoughts and you give in, letting that mouth soothe you in all the ways you know it can’t...shouldn’t. Not right now. Not yet. Not when you’re still reeling with fear and confusion and the crackling flame of your heat casting grim shadows through your future.

“I know,” he coos, his gravelly voice wrecked with emotions you’re both trying to come to terms with. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen. Not me meeting you, and definitely not this….”

John’s long fingers swipe over his claim on your neck, retreating at the small wince of pain he earns from you. Guilt worms into his chest and he holds you there, mouth just a kiss away from his.

He knows the answer but asks anyway. “Are you scared of me?”

You nod, shy but honest. “Yes.”

John hisses in disappointment, at himself and at you. How could you not love him the way he loves you? The way he’s loved you since he set foot in here and smelled you lingering in the air. He felt you wrap yourself around him when he paced the halls at night; slept in your bed to know you just a little more. He’s been obsessed with the ghost of you, and now you’re his.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you,” he admits, and your heart flutters, caught off guard by the meaning behind it. “Always thought it was Mary, but the second I walked in here, I knew. It was you.”

“I don’t want this,” your mouth spits out before you can stop it, before you can realize that you’re lying to his face.

John grins, gummy and wide, strikes fear in you with his irrefutable confidence but pulls you closer and speaks against your lips. “I knew, Y/n. Smelled this omega pussy every time I walked by your room. Didn’t say anything to the boys about it- didn’t wanna upset them- but I knew you before they even told me your name or that they had my omega here just waiting for me to come and claim her.” His hands stroke your cheeks and those eyes bore into you and unhinge you with the kind of care that only someone truly out of control can conjure.

“I could feel your energy when I touched your things, could smell this hot cunt on your laundry.” He inhales, the action crude and obscene. “Sleep didn’t come so easy, but the second I laid down in here it was like I could feel you pressing yourself up against me. I knew you and had you every night, so when I smelled you come through the door I knew I had to lock myself up or this would happen.” A chuckle escapes his lips. “Well, guess it was meant to happen, huh?”

Even with his claim on your neck, you can’t do anything other than gape at him. You’re mortified and enthralled by his words, and secretly long for freedom from his overwhelming intensity.

He shifts a little so you can feel his knot inside you and coos gently at the anxious whimper you let out. Gathering you closer to him, John feels your heart race against his. As if his touch is all you need, the exhaustion of the day starts to drag you down and there’s blood on his tongue when he kisses you goodnight.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha.”

Those are the last words you hear before tumbling into a dark and dizzying sleep.

--------------------

When you wake, it’s to the feel of thick fingers splaying you open, rubbing your swollen labia and massaging your inner thighs. Time is lost in the bunker and in your heat. It could be twenty minutes or a year later and your body wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Not when broad shoulders have your thighs pushed apart, the contented sigh on your lips turning harsh at the slick drag of John’s tongue.

He licks over you, parts your folds to find your clit, then sucks hard and makes his way down to your fucked-out slit. The wet, thick squish of his old cum seeping out of you vanishes when John forces his tongue inside to scoop it out and swallow it down. Shuddering violently against it, you fist his hair and kick off the blankets to finally look down at him. His eyes are red and your fever is raging again.

“My boys ever do this? Eat their cum from your little omega pussy?” he asks. It’s dirty and fucked up, wrong on so many levels, but he’s got a gleam in those treacherous eyes and you moan back against your better judgment.

“Don’t… keep it in me.”

Pride overwhelms him and his teeth dent his lower lip as he grins up at you. “Okay, sweetheart-” he sinks his fangs lightly into your flesh, holds it for a second and then gives you the painful satisfaction of breaking the skin- “yeah, let’s keep it in you. Make sure we get some pups in this gorgeous belly.”

Mewling in agreement, he releases his bite on your inner thigh and stalks back over you. Eager to feel him inside of you again, you pull at him and whimper his name so needy and so sweet that he sinks into you while he’s still soft. He’s pliant and warm as he pushes his old cum back into you, until he’s as deep as he can go, blunt tip squished up against your cervix. John’s right back where he belongs, and you can’t help but whimper at the small amount of lost cum that seeps out around him. As if he knows what you’re thinking, he licks at your lips, lets you taste his seed on his tongue and assures you in that midnight-dark voice the way only a stranger, only a soulmate, can.

“Don’t worry, omega. Your heat’s not done yet, and I’ve only just started my rut. We’ll get another load in here, soon enough. You’re gonna be so full of me and my pups.” He kisses your jaw. “All round.” Fingers squeeze at your tender breasts. “So beautiful,” he grunts, thrusting up enough for you to wince at the tight pinch of him so deep.

His mouth follows a pre-marked path down to the fresh marks on your neck -- the one bite on your body that actually means anything -- and his long, sharp fangs reopen his mark and sink down further into your flesh to solidify his claim. The power of his bite aches deep into the muscle and blood seeps out of the corners of his mouth. Sucking and licking your claim, John bites you over and over, deeper each time. All you can do is gasp and groan beneath him in pain and arousal, fingers raising blood on his back as you scratch a path down to his ass to pull him in closer. Trying to fuse your body and his in any way possible, to share breaths and blood if you can, even if it’s only through your warm needy mouths.

“Those boys aren’t getting to you any time soon, Y/n. I don’t think this place is gonna let anyone in or out until I’m done with you.” His hand wraps around your neck, pushes high to grip the edge of your jaw, and the pinch of his fingers against the bone lures a hiss from deep within you. “You’re mine, understand?”

You nod as best you can, eyes fluttering shut as he grows harder inside you and hotter against you with another flare of his rut. There isn’t anything in the world that could take this from you. You don’t know John, especially this dark version of him spat out of hell, but you’re his and he’s yours. True mates. And you’re convinced that the strong current that vibrates between you will keep you locked in here with him until your heat and his rut have died off.

“All fucking mine,” he says as he pulls you closer, the promise raw and real, and you’ll follow this monster anywhere.

Even to your death.

#john winchester x reader #alpha x omega #flamencodivacelebrates1700 #that's some supernatural schitt #firefly's summer challenge

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bonniebird · 3 years

Text

A version of home

Sam Winchester x Reader / Dean Winchester x Reader (Not sure about the pairing yet)

AN: This is 100% a self-indulgent comfort fic I started for myself xD

Masterlist

“Bobby? Is everything ok?” Sam asked as he answered his phone. Dean frowned and glanced at his brother as he drove. There was a long silence as Sam listened to Bobby and Dean clicked his tongue impatiently as he waited for Sam to say something, anxiety bubbled bitterly in the pit of his stomach as Sam hummed a few times. He hated waiting for an update.

The last he heard from Bobby, when he’d called that morning, everything was fine. He hadn't expected to hear from Bobby again, seeing as they were on their way to his house.

“Urm… yeah… let me check the map. We shouldn’t be too far from there. If you give me the address we can get there this afternoon.” Sam said as he started fumbling in the glove box for a pen and paper.

“Whats going on?” Dean asked quickly. He glanced quickly at Sam who frowned, a pen hanging from his mouth, as he dug into the back of the glove box and pulled a scrap of paper out.

“Just take the next left instead of going the back way to Bobby’s.” Sam said as he held the phone between his shoulder and ear, scribbling something on the paper. “Ok, we’re heading onto route ninety now.”

“So? What’s going on?” Dean asked as he sped up, watching Sam hang up and trace the route he’d set on the map. Dean’s tone was short and pensive, he was starting to worry but when he glanced at Sam again his expression made it easier for Dean to take a breath.

“Bobby needs us to pick something up from Presho, it’s only two and a half hours from Bobby’s. It looks like if we go this way we should pretty much pass right through.” Sam explained as he fumbled with one of the maps that he’d fished out of the glove compartment.

“Great, we’ll still make it in time for dinner. Apparently Bobby saved one of his neighbours and they dropped round apple crumble. It’s almost as good as apple pie!”

The drive to Presho didn’t take too long, the roads were clear and Dean sped along, able to zone out a little as the music blared. Sam had fallen asleep a good two hours before but as Dean pulled up outside of the motel Bobby had sent them to he emergency breaked which jerked Sam awake.

“Dean! Dude, come on.” Sam grumbled as he rubbed his face and looked around.

“Well we’re here. What was it that Bobby wanted you to get? I’m assuming some old books or something.”

“He didn’t really say. I figured that the address was for a library or a house. You’re sure this is right?” Sam asked as he glanced at the ordinary looking motel Dean had parked in front of.

They both stared up at the old building. There weren’t many cars in the parking lot and the E in the motel flickered every now and then. It hadn’t occurred to either of them that it was starting to get dark. A couple started walking over to the car and Sam pointed out that they could have something for Bobby, as they were holding a book shaped parcel wrapped up. The couple passed by as the back door of the Impala opened.

“Yes, Bobby. I see the old car. I’m getting in it now. I have all of my stuff! Bobby. I shipped the rest of my stuff to you last week.” You said as you slammed the car door shut. Sam and Dean stared at each other for a moment, Sam mouth Bobby’s name to Dean who shrugged. “Bobby it’s bad enough you won't let me stay out here by myself… It is not my fault that the werewolf totaled my car! I’m not careless, I'm just fast… Which sometimes appears to be careless.”

“Urm. Hey, I’m Dean… are we supposed to drop you off at Bobby’s or..?” Dean started as he turned in his seat. You’d already made yourself at home, feet up on the back seat as you sprawled over, your bags shoved in the footwell.

“Bobby wants to talk to the Idjits?” You said as you leant forwards between the front seats and Sam hurriedly took the phone. “Hi, I’m (Y/N).” You said and smiled at Dean who gave you a dubious smile.

“Oh, no everything is good Bobby.” Sam said as he hung up and handed back your phone. “Bobby might have told me that we were picking someone up. I was distracted when I was looking for the map.” Sam confessed. Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Will you sit in your seat… and don’t put your shoes up on my damn seats! I just cleaned them.” Dean complained as he started backing out of the motel parking lot. You gave him a challenging look before nodding, deciding to eat a snack so obnoxiously loud that it was hard for Dean to hide that he was irritated by the mess you were making, Sam was having a hard time not laughing at Dean. He got the impression you were going to give them, and Bobby a run for your money when it came to go along with what Bobby wanted.

******************

“You boys are late.” Bobby called out as he hung up his latest call and started heading into the kitchen through the back entrance. Dean had hurried through the door first and dumped his duffle bag by the back door.

“Yeah, well. Next time you want me to pick someone up, call a taxi!” Dean said irritably as he rummaged in the fridge for a beer.

“(Y/N) being a pain?” Bobby asked and Dean grunted out a response as he headed to the living room.

“Dean doesn’t like it when people put dirty shoes on his seats.” Sam said as he lugged in several bags that Bobby knew were definitely yours. You’d been unhappy that he’d insisted that you came to stay with him for a while. At least you eventually agreed. You came in a few moments later with just two bags that looked rather light.

“Jeez Bobby! You harpe at me for being unorganised. Look at this place. You’d double the floor space if you put up a bookshelf.” You said as soon as you followed Sam into the living room.

“If you want it any other way then you can get to it yourself.” Bobby joked as he started dishing up the food one of his neighbours had sent over. She’d been doing it a lot since he’d saved her from whatever it had been he saved her from last month. Honestly hunts seemed to bleed into one and he was happy that he could spend a little time not thinking about it, even if it meant sitting in front of the tv with his dinner and the boys taking up the space on his sofa.

“Is every room in the house like this? No wonder you take so long getting back to the hunters that call you.” You said with a cheeky tone he tutted as he shook his head.

“You have a room and you’re getting free food. You don’t like it…”

“I can go somewhere else! Great, thanks Bobby. I’ll pass the message along to Ellen.” You said cheerfully as Bobby handed you a plate of food. You took up one of the armchairs at the edge of the room, starting to tuck into the meal. Honestly you could’t remember the last time you hadn’t just grabbed fast food.

“Whose Ellen?” Sam asked curiously as he shoved Dean with his foot as he settled into one side of the sofa.

“She runs the hunter bar up in Nebraska.” You answered casually before looking over at Bobby and adding. “I thought you said these two were hunters?”

“They are. Their dad, John, hunted with your parents.” Bobby answered. Sam and Dean glanced at each other when you didn’t say anything for a long while and the mood seemed to plummet abruptly.

“Thanks for letting me stay Bobby.” You said quietly after several minutes. Bobby nodded and grunted something gruffly as he kept his attention on the tv.

**********************

“So that was weird right?” Dean asked as he fidgeted on the air mattress Bobby had put out for him. Normally he and Sam would have gotten to take turns in the spare bedroom that had started becoming infected with more and more books over the years. The room was yours now which meant the five games of rock paper scissors before driving down was a waste of time.

“I guess. I asked Bobby and he said that (Y/N)’s parents were killed on a hunt two years ago. He promised to look after (Y/N) they’ve been getting more and more careless apparently Rufus happened to find their car totalled and a werewolf nearly got them. (Y/N) was lucky Rufus had even picked up the case. That was the last straw for Bobby.” Sam said as he rolled over on the sofa. He was regretting calling dibs on the sofa now, seeing as he couldn’t get comfortable.

“Well that sucks. Hunting alone is pretty hard. I guess it’s good that Bobby’s looking out for them.” Dean said as he finally found a comfortable spot.

“Yeah, I guess it is. Bobby said we could stay until the next case or when we feel like we need to get going, apparently a bunch of demon activity has kicked up all over.” Sam said through a yawn as he turned on his side. He could just make out Dean in the dark, who must have fallen asleep, sprawled on his stomach.

The smell of fresh coffee woke Dean hours later. It was pretty light outside so he must have slept in. He could hear Sam and Bobby talking and laughing in the kitchen. “Morning.” He grumbled as he shuffled into the room. He took a seat next to you. After a quick glance he realised you were barely awake, curled up on one of the wooden dining chairs with your chin propped on your knee as you lazily shoved food into your mouth.

“I think I found a case not too far away. Only thirty minutes. I might go and check it out if you boys are up for it?” Bobby offered as he set a plate in front of Dean.

“I need to get those parts into the Impala but maybe Sammy will go with you?” Dean offered as he shoved a mouthful of pancake and bacon into his mouth.

“Sam! And yes, I can go with you. But Dean really needs to sort the car. If he hears that imaginary rattling again, he’ll go crazy.” Sam teased and Dean rolled his eyes.

“It’s not imaginary Sam! I hear it when we change gears and…”

“Maybe if you didn’t drive so fast it wouldn’t squeak.” Sam said playfully as he set his dishes in the sink. “You want to tag along, (Y/N)?”

“No, I’m going to sort the stuff in my room. Bunch of guns and some books. All my stuff is still boxed up.” You said through a yawn as you handed Bobby your empty plate.

“Well hey, if you want some help with the books before we get going, I can give you a hand?” Sam offered. Dean shot him a suspicious look and Sam shrugged.

“Sure I guess. I can’t even read some of the titles.” You answered while standing up and stretching.

“So what’s the deal with them?” Dean asked as soon as you’d left the kitchen and headed up the stairs.

“(Y/N) lost their whole family.” Bobby explained briskly.

“Yeah, Sammy said. But the attitude?” Dean asked irritably and Bobby sighed.

“(Y/N)’s parents were good hunters, found a lot of stuff that’s helped a lot of hunters. The only person that they didn’t get one with was John after they had a falling out. Didn’t like how he was raising you two so they walked away. They only died two years ago, their grandparents were hunters and they had taken (Y/N) in for a year. They’re gone too. Went to stay with an uncle and. It’s just (Y/N). It’s not like hunters set up playdates for their kids. (Y/N) just has me and Rufus now.” Bobby explained bluntly. Dean sighed and frowned.

“Nice to know you weren’t the only one trying to get me to play baseball.” Dean muttered as he downed his water and left the table to head out to the Impala.

“It’s great that you took (Y/N) in Bobby. We appreciated it, when you did it for us.” Sam said awkwardly. Bobby nodded and muttered something under his breath.

******************

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Sam asked as he knocked on your door. You opened it and Sam raised his eyebrows. “Wow, the book problem had gotten worse.”

“Yeah, hasn’t it. This room used to be nearly empty when it came to books.” You answered as you let him in. He chuckled as you led him to the largest pile of books that was more a wall than a pile. “You think you could help me move these downstairs. I figured I can organise the books and learn the phones for Bobby, since he’s taking me in.”

“Yeah. I can totally help you with that!” Sam said a little too eagerly. He winced. Bobby seemed to hope that you would hit it off with him and Dean. Sam knew what you were going through and had wanted to try and help, even if it was just hanging around with you. Bobby was right, even when he was hunting with Dean, hunting could get lonely. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to have lost so much so quickly.

“Maybe if we just start with taking all the books to the living room, we could organise them by the area that the lore comes from… maybe?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sam said and you smiled, nodding as the two of you started shifting books. By the time half of the books had been moved, you were opening up to Sama little more. Swapping hunt stories seemed to be the ticket to getting you to talk. Once he’d cracked you, it didn’t stop.

“Sam you ready?” Bobby asked as you and Sam carried down another load of books. He glanced at you and you nodded.

“I’m good. Sam figured a way to categorize so I should be able to finish sorting the books in my room by myself.” You insisted and smiled at Bobby who looked a bit relieved that you’d taken to Sam.

“Dean will be here manning the phones, looks like it should be a quick hunt, a day or too.” Bobby explained and you nodded.

“You can call if you need us.” You answered cheerfully as you playfully punched Sam’s arm before turning back to the latest, muddled, pile of books.

#Sam Winchester #dean winchester #bobby singer #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader

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