Dean and Cas hugging goodbye while he's human as he's being kicked out escorted out of the bunker and Dean just cant shake that there's something Off about that hug

Something just doesn't feel right about it

Because he doesn't know that it's the first time they've hugged without Cas wrapping him up in his wings too. even if Dean couldn't see them, or feel them physically. without them, something is just, different

But Dean figures it's just guilt, and lets him go

Second part to the mixtape headcanon. Dean’s reaction to Cas being at his door in the middle of the night with the mixtape in hand.  

Dedicated to Liv ( @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie ) sorry it took me a while but here it is. Might not be what you expected but hopefully you enjoy it either way.

Cas stopped short in front of Dean’s door. His heart raced as he held the Walkman to his chest, clinging to the words he just heard, but he knew those words were years old. So much has changed in general, but between them, it felt like a still lake.

Since coming back, Dean has acted as if those dying words weren’t even spoken. Sometimes Cas wondered if he imagined the whole thing, but he knew the truth; Dean didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for them.

It was something Cas has accepted the last few weeks of being in the bunker, being home, but now, with Dean’s secret message, he felt the courage in him bubble up his throat.

Cas quickly knocked three loud, quick bangs with his fist before waiting for a response. He heard a groggy, “What?”

“Dean? May I—Can we talk?”

Cas didn’t hear an answer right away, and for a second, he thought maybe Dean fell back asleep; he knew it was the early morning hours but wasn’t quite sure of the exact time. Still, time never really meant anything to him before, but now, as a human, time has become precious, and he didn’t want to keep wasting it.

He took a deep, shaky breath, raising his fist to knock again, but the door then clicked open. Revealing a disheveled and disoriented Dean.

He leaned against the door frame wearing lemon patterned boxer briefs and a hand up his t-shirt to scratch at his chest, as he yawned before he blinked at Cas a few times, “Dude, it’s 3 am. What can’t wait ‘til morning?”

Cas swallowed his nerves down before looking down at the Walkman to take out the tape. He brought it up to Dean’s face, and with an earnest voice, he said, “You said to come ASAP. So I’m here.”

Dean only looked at the cassette tape; a small gasp of a breath raised his chest, but then his face scrunched up in the familiar fixed glare, so Cas continued knowing Dean won’t talk. Not yet anyway.

He put the cassette back into the Walkman as he talked, rewinding it to keep his nervous hands busy. “I believe I understood what you—what the songs mean, but I am still so new at all this. If I am wrong, I don’t want it hurting us.” Cas took a sneaky look back up at Dean to find him watching the Walkman with the same intensity Cas was.

It only took a few seconds, and then Dean was shuffling in the doorway as the first song, Ramble On, started to play through the headphones. With no other words, Dean opened his bedroom door open just a little more, an invitation to come in, before he walked back over to sit at the edge of his bed.

When Cas walked in, he closed the door behind him but stood awkwardly by it. He broke the silence first as he looked anywhere but at Dean.

“You know what, maybe this can wait until morning.”

“You already woke me up.” Cas looked up to meet Dean’s stare, it wasn’t cold, but it still sent a shiver down Cas’s spine. “So talk.”

Cas opened his mouth, not knowing what words he was even forming, but Dean stood with a hand up to stop him before any words were spoken.

“Actually, first, why are you bringing this up again? I gave you that thing years ago.”

Cas put the Walkman down on Dean’s desk, the music softer but still background music, before looking at Dean with guilty soft eyes, not knowing how to explain himself. “Yes. I just heard—I appreciate the gift, Dean. Thank you but-um.”

Dean seemed taken back by the words, and, by his hardening demeanor, Cas knew they were the wrong ones. Dean was building walls up again.

“You know what, Cas,” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face as he glared past Cas with an uneasy smile settled on his face. “I can’t do this right now. How about we leave the rejections for some other time? Yeah?”

Cas opened his mouth, confused, but Dean nodded.

“Good. Night, Cas.”

Oh. He was already being rejected. It made sense that Dean’s feelings changed after all this time. He must have been waiting for Cas to mention the message, but it’s too late now. He lost Dean’s love.

Cas reached for the Walkman, but now he wasn’t sure if he wanted to listen to those songs, understanding why Dean skips them now. So he fists up his hands, leaving the Walkman where it laid, before giving Dean a stiff nod in return.

“Understood. Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean didn’t say anything in return, his jaw clenching as he looked at anywhere but Cas. “And take your damn gift with you.”

Cas’s chest tightened at the words. He felt familiar pain spread through his body, one he wished had a physical reason than an emotional, psychological one because a fist to his chest would hurt less.

“I don’t want it anymore.” Cas spit out as he opened the bedroom door and walked out into the hallway. “Throw it away for all I care.”

He slams the door closed behind him and stalks to his room, slamming that door behind him as well.

Then as soon as he is in the safety of his own space, he can feel the pain making itself known, like a hot blade slowly cutting into him or something heavy sitting on his chest. Either way, he wanted it to stop. Wishing he never heard that message or that he heard it at the right time.

Cas laid wide awake in bed, curled up around a pillow he was hugging to his chest. He stared at the wall, wishing he had a better imagination to keep him entertained, but all he could see was Dean’s glare. The glare those green eyes dug into him really digging roots and pulling him apart from the inside out with an invisible pull.

He couldn’t go out there and face him now. Maybe, Cas should have just ignored the long-ago message. It was apparent Dean had lost those feelings for Cas; he would have brought up Cas’s dying words weeks ago if Dean felt remotely the same. Now Cas was left with an awkward situation he didn’t want to be a part of.

He needed to leave.

Cas knew that. This is how it always went. Cas needed to go.

Cas stood up to walk over to his desk to grab his wallet and keys before grabbing his coat, ready to sneak off before the sunrise. He’ll be gone before Dean can kick him out again.

He didn’t even get a chance to open his bedroom door before Dean was striding in with a determined glare, “Okay, fuck this, I think we really need to-” Dean stopped to look Cas up and down as his shoulders dropped. “You’re leaving.”

“I think—I think it’ll be best.”

Dean nodded, his bottom lip being sucked into his mouth as he stared back at Cas. “Sure. Just do what you do best. Runaway.” Dean threw whatever he held in his hand across the room and broke it with a loud bang. Cas flinched as he saw what it was, the Walkman. “Fuck if I care!”

Dean was already turning to walk away, but Cas grabbed hold of his arm to stop him. “Why are you so damn mad, Dean?” Cas walked to step in front of him. He moved until he finally locked eyes with the angry hunter. “I’m only doing this for you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged Cas’s touch away. “Don’t bullshit me, Cas! You’re running away cause you don’t want to face me.” Dean poked Cas’s chest as he continued his angry rant. “Why don’t you start acting like a fucking man and face the damn consequences instead of being a little bitch and running away?”

Cas didn’t stand down as he glared back at Dean. “Enlighten me then. What would those consequences be?”

Cas took Dean’s finger and pulled it away from his chest, but it stayed in his grasp as he took a step forward, never taking his eyes off the familiar angry glare. The angry man he left behind still here after all those years, looking back at him with an ‘I dare you’ stare, but Cas could always read past those words. Dean was hurting.

“Why don’t you stop acting like a…like a little bitch, and just-!” Cas stopped with a loud sigh while he dropped Dean’s hand, along with his stare. Instead, he looked down at their socked feet. Dean was wearing pizza socks while Cas wore matching burger ones. They came in the same pack, and Dean split it up for them. He cracked a small smile thinking of that day before looking back up at Dean with pleading eyes. “Dean. I’m tired of this. Can you please just…Just talk to me?”

“Nothing more to talk about, Cas.” Dean sounded more defeated than angry now. “I got the message. Loud and clear.”

Cas blinked at him a few times. “Well, I’m sorry, but I apparently haven’t gotten the same message.”

“Don’t play dumb.” Cas just stood there staring at him, waiting for him to continue. “Geez, Cas, how many times are you going to fuck with my—I get it, dude, you don’t feel the same! I am doing my damn best here to be fucking normal about this, and then here you come bringing that old relic back as if—Did I fuck up somehow? Am I not giving you enough space?”

“I have enough space, Dean.” Cas tried to understand Dean’s words, process them, but they all felt just as jumbled in his mind as they did, leaving Dean’s mouth. “I—I’m sorry, I just don’t understand.”

“Shocker.”

“Did I understand the message wrong?” Cas ignored him as he asked, turning his head towards the shattering remains of his gift.

He felt his shoulders fall as a pang of sadness hit him from seeing his first gift broken. Cas walked towards it, hoping he would find the tape safely stored away inside the deck of the Walkman. He crouched to pick up the big chunk of plastic in his hand. It was smashed beyond repair, and the eject button was not working. Great, he’s going to have to break it more.

“ASAP,” Dean mumbled to himself, and Cas hummed in response, twisting the part in his hand.

“Yes. That’s what you said, so I did.”

“I told you to talk to me ASAP years ago, Cas.” Cas didn’t have to look up to know Dean was walking closer to him. “Did you just listen to the message?”

“I did.” Cas’s shoulders slumped in guilt. Dean has been waiting for a response all this time. “Sorry.”

“So when you were—when you tried to return the tape, that wasn’t a, um, a rejection?”

Cas looked up at him before he stood up, the broken Walkman in his hand. “I have loved you then like I love you now, Dean. I would never. Is that what you think happened?”

“Yes!” Dean took a step forward as he ran his hand through his hair, his eyes traveling down to the broken shards. “Shit. So wait, when you said you loved me, before the empty…did you mean,” Dean cleared his throat as he walked closer, nervously scratching his beard when he realized he didn’t have any pockets to hide his hands in. “Did you mean romantically? Like, like human romance?”

“I,” Cas felt his throat dry up as he tried to swallow a lump as he nodded earnestly. “I did. Yes.”

Dean looked at him, looking for something, and before Cas could ask what it was, Dean had his hands on either side of Cas’s face—pulling him in close until they were chest to chest. Then lips to lips.

Cas didn’t even realize he dropped the machine until he realized he had his hands on Dean’s skin. Feeling his body lift off the floor until he was being dropped on the bed, and Cas was watching something he never thought he would have or hear.

“I love you, Cas. I love you so much.”

Happiness isn’t always in the having, but fuck, this was so much better by a long shot.

I’m really, really sorry...

GIF is not mine.

Summary: Castiel hates to celebrate his birthday, and Dean knows that, but he thinks that Cas needs to let go his past, so he surprises him anyways. Things don’t go as planned, and they have a big fight.

Pairing: Eileen x Sam Winchester, maybe Human!Castiel x Dean Winchester 

A/N: I’ll write some ACTUAL Destiel scenes only if u guys like this first part and want me to write a second chapter, because there are no mentions of Dean and Castiel having another relationship than just best friends, nor there are mentions on they having feelings for each other, simply because it didn’t fit with the situation..

Rating: Teen and Up.

Warnings: angst, unhappy ending, Dean is an asshole, Castiel is depressed, physical abuse, blood, fights, Castiel’s father is an abusive and drunken asshole, homophobia, language

Words: 1972

It was done. There was no way of coming back in time to change it. Dean was sitting on the kitchen floor, alone. All the lights were out except for a faint one, everybody was sleeping, and there he was… By himself. His sobs were the only thing that filled the silence of the night, and he swore, he could hear Castiel sobbing as well. That made him feel even more miserable.  He blamed himself over and over again for his stupid mouth. Couldn’t he just, shut up for one time? No, he had to ruin everything. All the damn time. Sam gave him a disappointed look before going to bed, and Eileen gave him a pity one. Castiel had left like 30 minutes before that, and the look on his face… Dean didn´t even want to remember the way Cas looked at him before storming out of the kitchen, with tears on his face. He went directly to his room, slamming the door. Everyone was silent for a minute or two. Dean didn´t know what to say. 

He felt and still feels like an idiot. How could he be so heartless? Why on Earth did Dean think that saying that Castiel was acting just like his father was a good idea? On his goddamn birthday!? Dean was definitely an asshole.

Castiel was doing the best he could, but by the time Dean realized that, it was already too late.

He knew Cas felt tired and sad, that the memories will haunt him forever, he knew basically everything about him, they´ve been friends for over 10 years, but Dean thought that maybe, it was time to let that horrible memory go. He thought that it was time for Cas to actually start living the life he always deserved; a great one.

But Dean doesn’t know shit about how Cas really feels. Because his mother had a great life, and his father wasn´t an abusive asshole, unlike Castiel´s parents. Dean´s family was the typical perfect one, the kind of family everyone wanted.

On his 13th birthday, Castiel´s dad, Chuck, beat his wife to exhaustion because he discovered that his younger son Castiel, was gay, and no one said a word to him. Plus, he was a drunken, a horrible husband and an even more horrible father. He blamed Castiel´s mother because he claimed that ‘’That little faggot bastard came out of YOUR vagina and you raised him to be like that, not me, you fucking whore! Look what you did with my son! He can´t even be my son anymore, not if he likes to suck fucking dicks!’’ His brothers, Gabriel and Michael, that were 16 and 18 by that time, tried to stop him, but Chuck was way stronger than them. Castiel was terrified, he couldn´t even move. When he was done, and had left his mother unconscious on the bloody floor, he tried to catch Castiel, but he luckily reacted quickly and started running as fast as he could. He escaped his house and started screaming for help, which worked, because a few neighbors came out of their houses, and called the police when they realized what was happening. After all, that wasn´t the first fight of the family and Castiel was sure the cops had their address memorized at that point.

The police arrived minutes after, one of the neighbors let Castiel in to their house while Chuck was busy trying to get his drunk ass up from the floor because he fell while he was running behind his son, trying to catch him.

That´s when Castiel met the Winchesters, and that´s when Dean and Castiel´s great friendship started.

The ambulance arrived as well and they took his mother to the hospital as fast as they could. She fell on a coma after that. His father went to prison and killed himself after spending barely six months in there.

Castiel, Michael and Gabriel were sent to an orphanage after that, and visited their mother (and the Winchester family) every day. As they grew older, and their responsibilities bigger, they stopped seeing their mother that often. She never gave any signal of improvement, or waking up, and their hopes started fading. After ten years of being in coma, not even breathing for herself anymore, they painfully decided it was time to let her go.

Today was Castiel´s 25th birthday, the 12th anniversary of his family officially breaking apart, and in two months, the 2nd anniversary of the official death of his mother.

That´s why Castiel hated to celebrate his birthday so much, but Dean insisted on making a surprise dinner for his best friend, alongside with some decorations around the house.

Castiel was drunk when he came home. His clothes and hair were messy, and he smelled like alcohol and cigarettes.

When he saw the decorations, he started swearing and yelling that he didn´t want any of that shit. Sam and Eileen managed to calm him down, and Sam helped him to take a shower, because he could barely walk.

When he sat down at the table to eat, he was incredibly quiet.

Dean, as always, was trying to make things better, so he started talking about his day, and then asked Castiel about his.

‘’How do you think my day went, Dean?’’

‘’I mean… I don´t know, that´s exactly why I´m asking.’’

‘’Well, it was trash. I saw the bloody body of my mother in every corner of my mind the entire fucking day, but thank you for asking though, dumbass.’’

Dean frowned at the insult.

‘’Wow, ok, I´m sorry if your life isn´t perfect, but that´s not my fault and you know it, buddy, so don´t come at me like that, I was just trying to be nice and break the tension in here.’’

Castiel let go the cutlery abruptly and look at him furiously.

‘’If you were trying so hard to be nice, you would´ve started by not doing any of this shit in the first place, because this is no special, nor happy day to me, and you fucking know that!’’

‘’Man, it´s been twelve years! You´ve got to stop tormenting yourself with what happened that day all the time! Do you really want to live your whole life like this? Depressed?’’

‘’Dean…’’ Sam tried to interrupt, but clearly failed when Castiel interrupted him instead.

‘’Are you fucking kidding me, Dean? Do you think I like living like this every damn day? I try so hard to get over it, you have no idea, but it´s impossible when the image of my fucking father physically abusing me, my brothers and my mother, comes to my mind and even haunts me in my fucking dreams all the time!’’

‘’Cas, I know what you´ve been through, but…’’ Dean tried talking softer this time, but that only made Castiel angrier.

‘’NO YOU FUCKING DON´T!’’ He screamed, punching the table and breaking his plate and his glass.

Everyone in the table jumped in surprise and concern. Again, Sam tried to calm things down, but he couldn´t.

‘’Your family was always perfect, your father wasn´t an asshole and your mother lived ‘til you were 20, she was with you through childhood, took care of you, you were able to go to the games with your dad and enjoy a family picnic, so don´t you dare say that you know what I´ve been through, because you absolutely don´t! I´ve been through hell and back and tried to recover millions of times from this, but I just can´t, and you don´t know what real pain is like.’’

Dean got angry as well. Castiel was treating him like he was some sort of perfect commercial guy, and he wasn´t.

‘’You think my life was always perfect? You don´t think my parents had some fights from time to time? You think I don´t know what it feels like losing someone you love, and that should be with you until you´re at least 40 years old? I´ve lost my mom at a pretty young age compared to other people, Castiel!’’

‘’I´ve lost her when I was 13 years old, Dean! And the stupid fights your parents had from ‘time to time’ are NOTHING compared to what I had to witness! Stop trying to minimize my problems with yours, you have no right!’’ At this point, both Dean and Castiel were yelling. Castiel took the already broken glass while he was speaking and threw it, making it break in thousands of little pieces all over the kitchen floor.

‘’You´re acting like an insane, just like your father!’’ Dean yelled. The room went silent.

Castiel´s expression changed from angry to hurt in a matter of seconds.

Sam was hugging Eileen tight, trying to protect her in case things got even more out of control.

Castiel´s blue eyes seemed to be even bluer when the tears started accumulating.

His fist loosened, dropping more small pieces of broken glass to the floor, along with a few drops of blood.

A tear came out of his left eye and rolled down his cheeks. He turned away and disappeared.

Sam and Eileen started cleaning up the mess without saying anything, while Dean was still there, trying to process what just happened.

After it was all clean again, the decorations in the garbage can, and the food in the fridge, Sam said ‘’Dude, you´re an actual asshole, you know that, right? I told you this whole thing was a bad idea. You should’ve known, Dean, you guys are best friends since you´re thirteen…  I really hope you go and apologize to him soon. Good night.’’

Sam gave him a disappointed look, and Eileen a pity one. They turned off the lights in their way to their bedroom, leaving just one on.

Dean dropped to the floor devastated, already crying. He couldn´t believe what just happened. After ten minutes of panicking, having no idea how to apologize for the monstrous thing he said, crying and sobbing, he decided to look out for Castiel. He needed to fix this right now. He had no idea if Cas was ever going to forgive him. He hoped he will at some point…

He knocked on Cas’s door, obviously not receiving an answer. After two minutes, he knocked again. Nothing. He sighed, and started talking.

‘’Look, Cas… There’s absolutely nothing I can do right now for you to forgive me, but… I just want you to hear me, please?’’ Dean waited for a response, or for Cas to open the door, but none of those things happened. ‘’Alright, I´ll just start talking from here… I hope you can hear me… I- I wasn’t thinking, man. I´m really, really sorry for what I´ve said, I´m an asshole… I honestly have no excuses, and even if I had, it´s not going to work anyways. I just want you to know that I´m so sorry, I mean it… I hope you can forgive me someday, I… I really don´t want to lose you. Not after all we´ve been through…’’ Dean sobbed, and waited for… Well, anything. A sob, a move, a word. But he couldn´t hear anything at all.

‘’Cas? Man, are you okay?’’

After waiting outside his door for five minutes, he decided to come in.

‘’Hey, dude, I´m coming in, okay? I´m… You´re worrying me…’’

Dean got into the room, only to find Castiel’s window wide open, and the curtain moving softly because of the breeze of the night.

‘’Cas!? Where are you?’’ He started looking everywhere, screaming his name desperately, but couldn´t find him.

Sam and Eileen got up, and asked Dean what was going on.

Dean, with tears in his eyes, and a heavy breath, turned around and looked at the couple.

‘’He´s- He´s gone. I found his window wide open, and I don´t know where he is.’’

Whiskey Hangover

*Inspired by Season 14, reader insert. Slight foul language, some angst and maybe fluff? Changed things up so reader can be inserted, DUH🤷🏻‍♀️**

Everything is blurry. Every muscle you have is too relaxed to react to the strong arms trying to guide you to the bathroom. It’s been weeks since Dean had invited Micheal into him. There was no time to argue with him about it, he didn’t even get to say goodbye to you. He didn’t even look at you when Michael took control and vanished. The emptiness hurt you enough to drink yourself to passing out . Puking your guts out in a toilet was pretty much your daily routine, no matter what time of day it was.

“Y/n, breathe, it’s gonna be ok, just take it easy” Sam said to you softly as he held your hair back. You hummed in agreement while your gag reflex finally settled, and sat back against the cold tile wall, your eyes closed. Your head started to pound something wicked into your brain and you tried to focus on the giant in front of you cleaning you up. Pushing his hands away you get up with what physical will you had left in you and staggered your way into Dean’s bedroom. You only hear Sam’s voice as a muffle behind you, asking if you were ok, and to lay on your side before passing out. “Sammy, baby I don’t need you to take care of me, alright? I’m fine! I’m just peachy.”,huffing and collapsing onto the bed. Burying your face into Dean’s pillow the tears started to fall, you clutched to it tighter. You were angry, sad, numb all at once. Sam turns you to the side and places the wastebasket on your side of the bed. He gives you a small smile and gently pushes your hair away from your face.

“When you get up, I’ve got a couple of Tylenol and glass of water for you.” You blink your eyelids heavily and give him a small smile back, reaching for his chin. His beard tickling your palm. “Still the sweet Yeti as ever. I knew I picked the wrong Winchester.” He exhales harshly at that and his smile fades, but you don’t notice it since you fell asleep. He didn’t know if you were just teasing him or you actually meant it. You always had a loose tongue on your feelings when you were drunk. he admitted to himself that he had feelings for you, not as a friend or as a sister; but Dean was always the rambunctious one and took the first step to ask you out years ago after that one werewolf hunt. He stayed on the sidelines hoping those emotions whenever you gave him bear tackling hugs or pranked him while he was researching to fade, but it never did. He tucks you in and slowly makes his way to close the door, taking one last look at you.

Two weeks ago

“We had a deal!” You hear Dean groaning, straining to keep himself in his own body. The veins in his body start to pulse out and you watch him turn into Michael’s vessel before your eyes. You supported Jack with what strength you had while watching the man you love turn into an archangel. Too shocked to say a word you end up on your knees as he looks to you, Sam and Jack, “Thanks for the suit.”disappearing to god knows where.

Your blood shot eyes open and you feel yourself sitting up quicker than you wanted to, blood rushing into your head, the hammering pulse of a hangover presenting itself.

“Fuck. Never should’ve taken up whiskey.” You rubbed your temples and sit on the edge of the bed. Noticing your mouth feels very dry you look over to Sam’s little gift, a tall glass of water and a couple of Tylenol on the nightstand. “Thank goodness for you Yeti.” You say gruffly as you down the hopefully pills that might get you through today. You’d hoped to stay in bed but the only cure for a hangover would be food, you change into one of Dean’s shirts and put on some jeans, not bothering to brush your hair you place it in a bun and brush your teeth. It had always bothered you that there was a sink in the bedroom, but now it was a normal appliance since you barely left the room unless you needed a refill of whiskey for your glass. You head to the kitchen and see everyone scurrying around like working ants in their colony. Ever since they were saved and went through the rift most decided to stay and fight for the cause. You didn’t mind having company since it deflected what you were doing to yourself. Everyone was too busy to bat an eye at you unless it was asking where Sam was.

“Good afternoon, y/n,” a deep voice called out to you from behind. Cas was still an Angel, handsome as ever, but you could see the toll it took on him to keep everything in order while trying to track where Dean, Michael was. You shot him a wink while frying up eggs and bacon in a pan. “Hey Cas, it’s too bad you can’t taste food like before, I make a mean hangover breakfast.”

“Are you up for joining me trying to find...Michael?” He saw how your body stiffened as he asked reluctantly.

“It’s still Dean,Cas. But no, I’m thinking of hanging with Mary and showing what I made for the armory. I’m physically not able to be of help to you.Wheres Jack?” You replied.

“With Bobby, he insisted on getting some physical combat training since his powers....” Cas trailed off. It was hard for everyone, especially Jack. You knew how it felt to have your father tell you lies while you selflessly believed them, because you just wanted to be accepted and loved by him. But Lucifer only used him, the result, Jack basically being human, not that you minded, it was nice not having to tip toe around the kid, afraid he might blow up a town for just sneezing.You inhaled the coffee you made and engulfed your breakfast.

“It’s 2pm y/n, I see you slept in.” Mary pats your back gently as you send her a smile. “Just a bit, but you need to see what I did in the armory. I might be drunk 20 hours out of 24 but I still can finish a project if I want to . “

You both head into the gun range and open a small trunk full of bullets, neatly organized. Shooting yourself an approval lifting your eyebrows and biting your bottom lip, you showcase the display to her. “So, Angel, witch, werewolf, and vampire killing bullets. I’m even working on a leviathan version but they’ve been pretty distant since Dick exploded. But, you always need a plan in case. I’m supposed to be good about that, I WAS good about that.” You tell her, shoulders starting to slump. No matter what version of what you thought could’ve happened if you’d planned it more carefully, it always shows the same outcome. Dean inviting Michael to be his vessel without hesitation, and him flying out to wherever the hell he is now. It pained you too much to think about it, you always end up thirsty for something stronger than your usual girly drinks to diffuse the pain in your chest.

“ This- this is amazing y/n! You did good.” Mary praises you, holding a vampire bullet into the light, squinting to examine all the details. Placing the bulletin back into it’s socket, she sighs softly and looks to you. “Y/n, I might not have been there enough for my boys, but I know that they care for you deeply, especially Dean. Please, don’t hurt yourself more than you already have. This isn’t your fault. He was desperate, we all were, to save Sam and Jack. This is all Lucifer’s doing. We’ll get him back, I promise.”

The tears start to well up in your eyes but you don’t blink them away, letting them fall freely down your cheeks. You close the trunk and place it on the shelf. Mary pulls you in for a hug but you don’t hug her back. Your too exhausted from last night’s alcoholic binge to care the empathy coming from your mother in law.

She understands enough to leave you to your own personal space. You walk on to the range with a target sheet, longer than you, having to jump to reach to clip it up. Putting on safety glasses you load regular bullets into your pistol and aim at the target, cocking it. Exhaling slowly and rounding your shoulders, you aim and fire. The bullet goes through first into the target’s chest, a second shot to the shoulder, another to the throat, then two to the head. You shrug not impressed. Though hungover you still had very good aim thanks to Dean teaching you. It became second nature to you.

Couple Years Ago

“You need to relax your shoulders! You’re like a little gremlin, you won’t aim where you want to y/n!” Dean voices raises at you, ear mufflers on you glanced his way disapprovingly.

“Well, maybe I need a bit more help than just telling me what to do! I may be hands on but I’ve never actually shot a gun before if you hadn’t noticed.” You gritted your teeth as you fired another shot, missing the target and having the bullet ricochet. “This is bullshit!” As you were about to place the gun down you feel Dean behind you too close for comfort, your breath stuck in your throat. You can feel the rush of heat starting to emerge from your neck to your ears then your cheeks as you turn pink from the unexpected contact. He takes your hand holding the gun as if he’s your shadow and guides your arm up level with your shoulder. His other arm around your waist, starting to tighten his grip you straighten up your back, involuntarily rubbing your ass against him. A tiny groan leaves him and you try to ignore it.

“Relax, you got this, aim and shoot, just like I showed you baby.” Whispering to you, feeling his breath on your neck.

Exhaling slowly you look to the paper target and three shots ring out, three holes in its face. “Holy crap, holy crap! I frikking did it! Haha!” You jump for joy, turning around to hug him tightly. His one arm still on your waist the other grabs your gun and uncocks it then puts it on the table. “You did great sweetheart, you’ll be able to shoot with a rifle in no time.” A big smile on his face as he leans down to kiss your lips. Your hands travel up to the back of his neck receiving a pleasant reaction from Dean as you reciprocate his kiss. “Well, luckily you’re my teacher. I might need some extra credit Mr. Winchester.” A glint in his green apple eyes and he carries you in his arms as you try to wriggle out of his grasp. “Dean! I’m too heavy!” “Sweetheart, I’ve carried you out of hunts many times. Believe me when I say you’re not the heaviest thing I’ve had to throw around.” Your arch a brow at him “throw around huh?” A smirk on your face as he carries you back to the bedroom.

“Y/n? Are you ready? Y/n!” Cas is waving his hands at you, making you snap back to reality. Blinking a few times you see Cas is ready with his gear. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry, I haven’t even packed, I don’t want to waste your time, just go ahead without me Cas, I’ll be fine.” He gives you a disconcerting look. You stare back at him hard. No matter how long you’ve known the angel , the stare you give, he knows when to back off.

“I’ll, be, fine, wings. I’ll handle the bunker til you get back. Plus Mary and Bobby are here.”

With that he nods and heads out. You sigh heavily and rub your face down, deciding to look for Sam. The group that stayed back in the bunker are too busy to answer you, then you here someone call out.

“Hey Chief! We got a tip from a hunter of yours, says she might’ve sighted Dean.” Sam’s tall frame appears a few yards from you. His beard is scruffier and thicker than ever, the bags under his eyes show he hasn’t properly rested since Michael jumped his brother’s bones. You make your way to him as he sits in front of his laptop. Sensing your presence he looks up and gives you a grin.

“Hey, look who’s awake, sleeping beauty.”

You slap his shoulder gently and then lean over to see what he’s doing, you can smell his conditioner that he uses to keep his hair oh so soft and shiny.

“What we got Sherlock?” You tease.

He laughs sharply and tries to concentrate on the screen in front of him.

“ Get this, we got a tip where Dean could be, but he’s jumping everywhere. He’s frying up bodies left and right, the police are all over it. Eyes melted out of their skull.” Your neck tightens but you keep your composure. “Hm, classic angel-type of kill. So no location where he was last?” You ask, Sam shaking his head.

You straighten up and head to the mini bar. “Ok, so we know Dea-Michael, is grilling random people in random places. Great. He’s planning something but what the fuck is it?” You pop the glass bottle of whiskey and start to pour until a huge hand covers it and places it to the side. You look up to Sam and show you’re not accepting the rejection of your tonic, trying to grab it from him, only to raise it higher than you can reach. “Nuh uh. Didn’t you learn last night? You were keeled over the toilet for a good half hour before I got you to bed, hoping you weren’t going to drown in your own vomit, y/n.”

You sneered at him and tried to jump up to get the glass back.

“Yeti, it’s my own problem, if it helps me with what we’re dealing with so be it. “ he places the glass on the top shelf of the bar and you scowl. You reluctantly relax as he pulls you in to hug you. “It’s not going to help numb the pain you’re feeling y/n. It might feel like it helps but you’ll always end up feeling like shit at the end of the day. I need you to be strong. I need you.” With those last three words you look up at him as he looks down at you with his hazel eyes. You’ve never recalled being this physically close to the youngest Winchester, and you realize this is too close to be considered platonic. You don’t know if it’s because you’re lonely or you’re still drunk from last night’s binge, but you don’t feel anything wrong as you hold his waist a bit tighter than you should, clutching for dear life. You feel the heat of his back radiating on to your hands and your fingers spread to travel upward to the middle of his back, wanting to feel more of him.

“Ahem.” You both look to Bobby clearing his throat. Realizing you’re in the middle of the bustle of everyone, but no one can tell you’re holding his waist under his jacket, Sam let’s go of you and you cross your arms to face Bobby.

“We’ve got a problem.” Holding the phone out to Sam.

**Do I need to continue this as a series or what? So much slow burning of angst and almost smut I’m not sure how I feel about it yet.**🤷🏻‍♀️

Surprise, Mother Fucker...

Just to be clear, this is the first fanfic I have written for Supernatural. This one shot ends on a cliff hanger and I plan one writing a second part whether people read it or not. Writing fanfic has given me life and it is a new addiction. I would really like some feedback from those of you who read it.

Summary: Dean and Sam are running from Lucifer and they are forced to leave you behind. It’s okay though, because you have a plan...

Pairing: eventual Lucifer x reader (ft. Sam, Dean and a little bit of Cas)

Warnings: language and torture

Words: 1,668

        There I was chained by the wrists and ankles to a steel chair. My body was littered with deep cuts, burn marks, and bruises. I had lost count of how many days since I had been captured and tortured. It felt like an eternity, but if I had to guess it had probably been about two or three days. I was being tortured for some information that was important to a certain archangel. The information was crucial to his evil plan to take over the world. He sounded like any other villain you hear about in comic books or movies except this guy, he was the Devil.

Four Days Earlier

        “You and Sam have to get out of here!” I yelled at Dean. The Winchester brothers were my whole world. Sam and Dean were the only family I had, and I loved them with all my heart. I met them five years ago on a hunt for a ghost and ever since then we had been a family.

        “(Y/N) we are not leaving you here to clean up our mess! You know for a fact he is going to come after you to get to us.” Dean argued. Lucifer has been searching for the brothers for a while now. Sam and Dean were apparently the true vessels for Lucifer and Michael and there was supposed to be some huge smackdown, drag out fight between the two of them. If you asked me it was just a bunch of family drama that went too far.

        “Dean you have no other choice than to leave. Lucifer is going to find you both if you don’t. He will kill you and probably torture Sam until he says yes to him.” I said trying to convince them to leave.

        “He will do anything to get whatever information he wants and then some. That means torture (Y/N) and I don’t know if I can have that over my head. We love you and we can’t put you in harm’s way just because of some fucked up destiny shit.” At this point Dean has me wrapped in his arms.

        “It’s going to be okay, I promise. I love you both so much and I need you both to leave.” Dean had let go of me and I found myself in a huge bear hug only Sam could give.

        “I’m so sorry (Y/N). We never meant to put you in this situation. Just know that we will come back for you. We aren’t leaving you behind.” Sam was telling me this while kissing the top of my head.

        I pushed myself out of his arms, “No! You have to stay away! Neither of you can come looking for me. Lucifer will be counting on that and you will be playing into his plan. Please promise me that no matter what happens you both will not look for me.” At this point I had begun to cry, and I could see tears starting to form in Sam and Dean’s eyes.

        “I promise everything is going to be okay. Now go!” I had said while trying to hold back my tears. It hurt like hell to see Dean and Sam pack up their stuff and drive off in Dean’s Impala, but it was for the best.

        A day later, just like clockwork, there he was Lucifer himself in front of me in my apartment.

        “Hello there little one.” Lucifer said with that devilish smile I had seen so many times before. “I think you know what I’m here for and I’m guessing you aren’t going to give it up willingly.” I looked at him with a cocky smirk and shook my head no. The next thing I knew I was chained to a steel chair in what I guessed was Hell.

Present Day

        I was physically and psychologically exhausted. I had been beaten, burned, and cut with every kind of knife you could imagine. Lucifer thought it was funny watching me scream while he burned my skin with an iron rod that had been sitting in a fire. He would have his goons slice and dice my skin and then beat the ever loving shit out of me. The worst part about it was when he was done torturing me for the day, he would use his grace to heal me so torturing me would be more pleasurable for him. Let’s just say I wasn’t enjoying my stay in Hell.

        I was slouched over in my chair when I heard someone opening the door to the room they were holding me in. His hand grabbed a fist full of my hair and yanked it up where I was looking at him. It was Lucifer of course.

        “You look like shit. You know, if you just give me the information I desire all of this torture will stop.” Lucifer was so cocky. He had a permanent smirk on his face.

        “It’s nice to see you too dear. What’s on the agenda today? A little bit of slicing or a beating made with love? Oh, oh, I know maybe a nice hot branding of my skin.” I sarcastically responded to him. He didn’t enjoy my jokes and he had done something I had never seen him do before. He was so furious at me that his eyes started to glow a bright red. I was surprised that, that didn’t scare me. I just stared into his eyes and smiled. “Oh, that glowing red eye trick looks good on you. Very sexy.” I was pretty sure he was going to kill me, but he didn’t.

        “You are testing my patience (Y/N)! I want to know where those lovely Winchester brothers are and one way or another you are going to tell me!” he is inches from my face and all I did was stare into his eyes.

        “I have been telling you this the whole time, I. DO. NOT. KNOW. They left and didn’t say where they were going. You know I’m telling the truth because you can read my thoughts and I’m pretty sure you have been inside my head.” After mentioning that, he glared at me. He knew I was right, but he was curious about something else. He had backed himself away from me and started pacing in front of me.

        “Okay maybe I have been going through that pretty little head of yours, but I am convinced that deep down you have a pretty good idea of where they would run off to. I am curious about one other thing though. Normally people see me, and they are terrified. They cower in my presence, but you, you don’t fear me. You are a peculiar little human. I have to admit I’m a little drawn to you for some reason. I was even drawn to you the many times we met before this.” Lucifer was whispering this to me. His lips ghosted over my ear.

        “Well I would say I’m flattered but you being the Devil and all… On a serious note, one of the reasons I am not scared of you is because that is what you feed off of. People’s fear is what gets you excited and fuels your inner bitch. You are nothing but a coward and deep down you know that. In order for you to feel powerful you have to terrify people and that is so sad that it almost makes me feel sorry for you. Do you wanna know the other reason I’m not scared of you? Because I can see your wings Lucifer and I have a feeling you know what that means.”

The boys, Cas, and I had just gotten back from having a run in with Lucifer. We were almost killed, but there was something weird going on. I couldn’t understand why I could see Lucifer’s wings. When we fighting for our lives I looked around to Cas, Sam, and Dean and it seemed like they weren’t able to see his wings. They were beautiful. The top of them were white and as they progressed down to the tips they faded into black. I’m guessing that’s where they had gotten burnt when he fell from Heaven. I didn’t want to startle Cas with this question, so I waited a couple of days to ask it. I had a pretty good idea of what it meant though.

        “Cas, I have a question.”

        “What is it (Y/N)?”

        “Is it possible for angels to have soulmates?” he was caught off guard by this question.

        “Yes, it is possible for an angel to have a soulmate. Their soulmates are normally humans. The only way the human knows that their soulmate is an angel is because they can see their wings, but no one else can.” Castiel was very curious as to why I would ask this, so he asked me why I was so curious.

        “I got curious the other day about soulmates, so I did some research and one of the lore books mentioned that angels have soulmates, but that was all it said.” I tried to hide the shock I was feeling off of my face.

        I couldn’t believe I had a soulmate and what was more shocking was that it was Lucifer.

        All Lucifer could do was stare at me. No words came out of his mouth and the lack of words did worry me a little bit.

        “What did you just say?” Lucifer asked with disbelief on his face.

        “I’m not scared of you because I am your soulmate. I can see your wings Lucifer. They are white at the top but then they start to fade to black as they go down to the tips of them. Am I wrong?”

        Lucifer was trying to process what he had just heard. He stood in front of me with a blank stare and then he turned his back to me and hastily walked out of the room.

“Well that was awkward. I think I just ruined his evil plan.”

Part Two Here

Self-Doubt

Synopsis: You're a little bigger than most girls. Generally you don't care, but sometimes it's a weight on your mind. Cas can't understand why you're so upset.

NOTE: Reader is a half-sibling. Same father (John) but different mother

MASTERLIST

.

Dean startled as Cas touched his shoulder, the angel swooping in unannounced. "Cas," Dean grumbled, putting his glass of whiskey down. "You gotta stop doing that, buddy."

"Apologies," Cas said, tilting his head slightly. "I've come to talk to you about an issue that has arisen with Y/N." Instantly Dean stood straighter, concern and protectiveness carved into every tensed muscle. "I grew concerned with her mental state after she refused to provide a reason as to her depressed nature recently. I took it upon myself to investigate and found her mind filled with negative thoughts about her body and weight. What's wrong?"

Dean sighed, draining his glass of alcohol. He knew what was happening in your head. It was a mindset he and Sam had tried to destroy many times before. Until now, he thought they'd succeeded. "Some girls are very self-conscious," Dean tried to explain. "Y/N's just too harsh on herself sometimes."

"Dean I don't understand. Does she not see that physical appearances do not matter?"

"They do to a lot of people Cas." Dean leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath. "Y/N's always had trouble with accepting herself. Dad was harsh on her about it, always told her that big girls don't run fast enough to escape. He tried to train it out of her but it never really worked. It's just her genetics. Her mother wasn't incredibly tiny and so Y/N isn't either."

Cas nodded and looked down at his hands. "Does she wish to be one of those tiny girls?"

"It's hard to tell," Dean admitted and it pained him to say it. He hated to think that you could be suffering some days and he and Sam would have no idea. He knew you were always hesitant to come to them when you were upset. "I think, deep down, she knows that she's perfect the way she is, but there's been some bad experiences that have stopped her from fully accepting her body."

"I see," Cas murmured.

It was quiet for a little while, Dean pouring himself another glass of whiskey and Cas just contemplating how to help pull you out of your funk. He'd truly never encountered a human with such complex insecurities, and he struggled to understand how you could believe that extra body mass made you less of a person, less of a hunter.

Then you shuffled into the kitchen, wrapped in long baggy sweatpants and a hoodie that was two sized too big. Cas watched you make your way to the fridge and frowned. You looked overly warm, and though the clothes might be comfortable, you still looked slightly miserable.

"Hey kid," Dean greeted, smiling gently. The softness on his face grew sad when you barely reacted to his voice.

Cas dared a peek at your mind. Dean was right, you were struggling to accept who you were. "Y/N," he said, watching you carefully. "I'd like to take you to dinner tonight."

Dean gave him a look, a strange mix between gratitude, disbelief and disagreeance. Cas dismissed the man's concerns, focusing on you instead. "Really?" You said, eyes wide and shocked. "Me?"

"Yes. Somewhere formal where you can dress up."

Something flickered on your face and you deflated slightly, shaking your head. "I'd love to Cas but I can't."

He tilted his head. "Why not?"

"It's a human thing, you wouldn't understand."

"Tell me," he insisted, and something in Dean's expression cleared. The hunter's gaze was less judgemental and more understanding as he understood Cas's plan. "Y/N, you have seemed upset lately. I thought this might cheer you up. I know you used to like putting on a nice dress and going out."

You flushed. "Cas..." you sighed, shook your head. "I'm not the kind of girl you wanna take out to a nice place."

There it was.

Dean stepped forward. "Baby Girl," he murmured but you stepped back.

"It's true," you told him. "Dad always used to say that being a big girl made me a bad hunter."

"Well Dad was an ass and you shouldn't listen. You're an amazing hunter-"

"Please stop," you whispered, hands trembling. "Just...please."

Cas spoke up. "Y/N, I'm not sure you know what I see when I look at you." You glanced at him, briefly shaking your head before looking back down. "When I look at humans, quite often I only see their spirit - their soul. Physical appearances very rarely play a part in what I see. I judge people on their true being."

"So what?"

"Your soul is one of the brightest and most wonderous souls I have ever laid eyes on." Cas stepped forward, and this time, you didn't step away. "You are a good person, a good hunter who has saved many people. Sam and Dean love you deeply, as do many people you meet and befriend. They don't care for your looks or your abilities. They care about you, as a person, as do I."

Tears shone in your eyes, some of the haunted darkness vanishing from your face. "I don't know what to say," you murmured, laughing slightly. "That was...That was exactly what I needed Cas, thank you."

He smiled. "You are welcome. Now, may I take you out to dinner? I would like to see you dressed up."

Grinning, you nodded and stepped forward, giving him a tight hug. He stiffened slightly before hugging back, happy to see that the poisonous, doubting thoughts had disappeared from your mind. You stepped back and beamed up at him before giving Dean a hug as well. The green-eyed hunter, pressed a kiss to the side of your head and whispered something quietly. You giggled.

After you'd rushed off to get ready, Dean turned to the angel standing quietly by the wall. "Thanks man," he rasped. Cas could be imagining it, but those were tears in Dean's eyes. "She-She really needed that. Sam and I, we've never really been able to cheer her up like that. It was an oversight in our part."

"No need to feel guilty, Dean," Cas said. "Sometimes we just have to hear things from people we don't expect to hear things from."

Dean took a long drink of whiskey.

.

You and Cas did go to dinner. You wore a beautiful red dress that hung off your shoulders. Cas had complimented you many times before flying you both to a restaurant a few towns over.

You'd laughed and laughed, and when the night was over, you fell asleep in his shoulders under the stars.

Cas gazed at you and wondered how someone so wonderful and beautiful and good could ever doubt herself so much.

Bound and unbroken

I’m participating in @supernatural-jackles writing prompt challenge. I picked the prompt: I think we can stop pretending now.  https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410283 Link if you want to leave comments or kudos Seeing him in chains should have brought with it some sense of victory, but all Cas felt was heartache and loss. Ever since Castiel and Sam brought Michael back to the bunker Cas had been restless. It felt wrong to have him there, like he could, by his very presence unearth all the secrets of the Men of Letters and glean the hidden knowledge from lore books. It felt like Castiel's own secrets were brought to the surface by a mere look from Dean. The thought was a bitter knife to his heart. It wasn't Dean trying to get a rise out of him. He wore the face of Dean, but it was an impassive one, his face smooth and his green eyes holding nothing but contempt for the angel. Michael was sitting on the chair, like a king on a throne, the chain imbued with Enochian magic binding him for now. Rowena's named flashed in his mind, quickly followed by gratitude for the spell she had found. “I think we can stop pretending now.” Dean's voice was smooth, and he raised an eyebrow, his gaze looking at Cas from head to toe, assessing him and clearly finding him lacking, probably in all areas. Glancing at the chain again, Cas' heart thundered wildly. For a brief moment, he had an overwhelming urge to stab Michael, but he knew that in doing so Dean would be lost. And he would do everything in his power to save Dean. Jack had wanted to barge in and help but had so far listened to reason. Thinking about the conversation Jack had revealed he and Michael had had at Hitomi Plaza, Cas was firm in his decision to keep Michael as far away from Jack as possible. “What are you talking about?” Cas didn't remember when his voice had taken on that weary and cautious note. Michael narrowed his eyes, his face wearing a mocking smile that made Cas' heart beat faster in anger. “Oh, still silent about that? Well, I'm not surprised. You did pour out your heart, dying with a spear firmly embedded in your gut.” There was a hard edge to his voice as he continued. “Did you know why Dean didn't answer you? Fear. Maybe his needy little heart had misunderstood you? How could you really love him? A mere human when you were an angel of the Lord?” Michael sighed and crossed one leg over the other. Looking around the Bunker, seemingly uninteresting in anything but Cas before him. Castiel felt his skin crawl. Trying to take calming breaths Cas reminded himself again that this wasn't Dean. Michael was using everything he could to get a rise out of him. That was the only logical explanation. Steel in his voice, Cas bit out, “We will find a way to save Dean and kill you, Michael.” “Yes, I'm sure. Meanwhile, do you want a sample? I've been courteous enough to let Dean breathe for a while. He's been aware.” Michael smirked. “What are you play- “ Michael suddenly slumped forward, his body still but chest rising slowly with the power of breath. Castiel took a tentative step towards Dean. He grabbed Dean's arm gently and shook him. There was a slight quiver in his voice. “D-Dean?” Slowly raising his head, Dean opened his eyes, squinting. “Cas?” Pulling at the chain curiously, Dean suddenly stopped, casting a glance at Castiel before looking away. Just that simple word, his name on Dean's lips was enough for him to know it was really Dean. “Look, Cas, I'm... Fuck, sorry doesn't even start to cover it. All those people. I killed them, every single one. I killed them.” Cas wrapped his arms around Dean, hugging him tightly, wishing he could claim all Dean's pain as his own. “That wasn't you Dean. It wasn't you.” Cas let go of Dean and quickly grabbed his phone. “I'm just sending a text real quick to Sam. He will want to be here.” Dean's eyes searched Cas' own eyes, for what Cas wasn't sure of. He licked his lips and exhaled deeply. “About what Michael said – ” Cas put a reassuring hand on Dean's shoulder. “It's alright. That was all Michael distorting and twisting events.” “Cas, I do love you back.” The silence lay heavy between them. Cas felt such elation for a brief moment before he came back to reality, to what they still had to fight for. “You love me?” Cas' voice was slow to articulate the words. Dean was still looking at Cas, his eyes pleading of all things. “Yeah. I love you.” Dean's answer was a whisper, tinged with sadness. “I know I don't deserve it, fuck, I don't know how you can look at me. What I did at Hitomi, I killed a whole city, Cas. All the things I've done, people die being around me.” There was a heavy pause. “You deserve better.” “You love me.” Repeating the sentiment again, Cas whole body felt odd. Like everything around him was detached, and the world was blurry except Dean. He could see Dean clearly, painfully so, with all his faults and strengths and contradictions. “We are family. You've said so, many times.” Dean sighed. “Mm, sorry about that. I was a coward. You are family, I would die for you, just as I would for Sam and Jack. And I love them. But I'm in love with you, Cas. Been for a long time, but I've been a fucking idiot thinking...” Castiel could hear Dean talk, but the revelation on Dean's lips, what Dean felt for him, even at this moment which should fill him with fear, and hopelessness and anger burned all that away. He tried not to feel, but it was like that admission opened a little crack in Cas' heart that instantly spread all over, and it was too late to hold anything together and he was overcome, could physically feel Dean's love vibrate through him, his own Grace pulsating in union with Dean's own heart. “I love you, Dean.” The smile on Dean's face, the pure happiness he could see was beautiful. Cas couldn't remember when he had seen Dean like this. “I love you too, Cas.” And then all Cas knew was darkness and oblivion. A few minutes later, Sam and Jack entered the room. Michael looked at them, a smile playing on his lips. “I'm afraid Dean has become unavailable again.” There was no trace of Cas.

Lena and the Winchesters, Part 4

WARNING: This part has some heavy themes. There's nothing explicit, but it addresses the other victims of the dragon, because it didn't feel right moving on without it. It's sad, and deals with grief and bereavement that might be uncomfortable for some people. Feel free to skip if you like. Any other plot important stuff will be mentioned in later chapters as necessary.

----

Lucy survives. She spends days in the hospital under a fake name she doesn't choose, but with every day inching them closer to being found out for credit card, she checks herself out AMA as soon as she can manage to stand.  They ditch town the next morning, and hole up in a motel a couple towns over.

Lucy sleeps for days. Dean takes on the task of changing her bandages and checking for signs of infection. As soon as she can keep her eyes open for more than five minutes, she asks for pen and paper.

She hands Dean a list of names and addresses, and when he realizes they're all girls' names, he knows exactly who they are.

"The others who were with you?"

Lucy nods. "I was the only one who could remember them, so they made sure I was the last. So I could tell their families what happened." Her eyes close, in pain-- exhaustion-- anguish. "Rivka was there the longest by the time I got there. She said there had been twelve more before her. She didn't remember their names."

Dean's throat closes painfully. "You did all you could."

"Not enough."

---

The next time she sleeps, Sam and Dean call Bobby from the Impala and explain over speakerphone what happened. Bobby remains skeptical.

"The lore says only an enchanted sword can kill a dragon," he drawls, the sound of book pages turning in the background. "Sometimes it's a specific enchanted sword. You said she ganked it with a rusty pipe?"

"Yeah," Dean confirms. "It was sharp, I guess, but Bobby-- this thing had torn her half to shreds, and she could barely hold a gun, let alone face down a dragon!"

"Well, it wasn't a dragon."

Sam and Dean stare into the phone as if it had grown legs and tried to scamper out the door.

"It was a giant lizard with wings that breathed fire, Bobby," Sam reiterates. "If it walks like a dragon..."

"And freaking breathes FIRE like a dragon!"

"If it don't die like a dragon, then it's not a dragon," Bobby finishes. "If it had been, that pipe wouldn't have done diddly to stop that thing. I dunno what else to tell you boys."

Across the line, a book claps shut, and an audible rustle echoes over the line as Bobby shifts the phone against his ear. "Where'd you say you found this chick again?"

Sam and Dean share a look. Sam shrugs.

"Uh, we'll have to get back to you on that one, Bobby. Thanks for your help!" Dean finishes quickly before ending the call with a hurried push of his finger. Then he releases his breath and leans back in his seat. "Shit."

"That was a dragon, right?"

"What else could it have been? I don't care what some illuminated manuscript says. A dragon's a dragon."

Sam eyes him. "But...?"

"This is getting weird, Sam. Really freaking weird." He scrubs a hand over his jaw. "We can't tell her."

"I think she's gonna remember killing a dragon, Dean."

"No, I mean we can't tell her that it shouldn't have worked. Not until Cas gets back and can tell us what the hell's going on."

Sam doesn't need much convincing. He nods. "Okay. We don't tell her."

-----

Lucy meets with thirteen families. Dean goes with her, but lets her do the talking.

They leave out the part about the dragon, and instead spin a white lie about an all-too-human monster.

"I knew someone had taken her," Rivka's mother says, tears pouring down her face. Hers is the first home they visit. "The police said she probably ran away, but I knew. You escaped?"

Lucy nods. "Because of your daughter's courage, and the others he took. I wouldn't have made it out without them."

Her shorts keep pressure off the bandages taped to her thigh, allowing her soke neasure of comfort. Mrs. Bergman stares at them, and the matching gauze taped to Lucy's neck and chest.

"He did that to you?"

Lucy nods. "Yes."

A fresh wave of tears pours down the woman's cheeks. "I'd like to bury my daughter. Her body..."

"He made sure there wasn't anything left to find."

A sharp whine escapes Mrs. Bergman as she gasps, her chest shuddering under the force of the sobs that start pouring out of her. Dean keeps his eyes on Lucy, and sees her throat bob in a tight swallow. Tears glitter in her own eyes, barely kept under control, but her features remain soft.

"I'm so sorry," she says, voice thick.

"And how do I know you're telling the truth? That you're not just taking advantage of a grieving mother?"

Dean stiffens, offended by even the implication. But Lucy quietly reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a gray pearl earring. The mother gasps, and accepts it with shaking fingers.  "I got this for her... her sixteenth birthday."

"She said you would know it's from her." Lucy swallows thickly, wiping her eyes. "I'm so sorry there wasn't more I could do."

"The man who did this--"

"He's dead. He won't do this to anyone else."

Rivka's mother nods. "Can I ask-- why did you come to me directly? Why not the police?"

Dean falls still. They hadn't gone over that particular question. But Lucy doesn't hesitate.

"They weren't looking for me either. There's no proof that he took us. It's just my word, against a dead man's. I don't know if that'd be enough to keep me out of prison."

Rivka's mother stares at her for a long moment, then simply nods her understanding. Their exchange peters off, until Dean reaches out touch Lucy's knee.

"We should get going."

They lather, rinse, repeat for the remaining twelve families. The conversations follow the same script, almost verbatim, broken up by only a few who knock Lucy into left field. The sister of Jessica Waters, who takes Lucy's hands and whispers a blessing because as a young woman she knows, she knows that this sort of violence could happen to any woman-- could still happen to her-- and she knows that surviving is only the first battle of a very long war.

Like the father of Imelda Santiago, who has already buried his wife to cancer and his son to police brutality, and now his only daughter to police indifference, when they refused to believe Imelda simply hadn't run away or joined a crew. He breaks down the moment he answers the door, as though he can read their purpose in their expressions.

On their way out, he asks Lucy one final question.

"Was she afraid?"

Dean's instinct is to lie, as it always is. But Lucy nods, dislodging tears as her voice cracks. "Yes."

Imelda's father sobs again, grinding his hands into his eyes, Imelda's wooden cross dangling from his fingers. "At least-- at least Jesus was with her, in the end."

Lucy shakes her head no. "Jesus doesn't go to hell, Mr. Santiago. God wasn't anywhere in that room." She takes his hand and clasps it gently. "But you were. Her last thoughts were of you. She loved you so much."

Mr. Santiago wraps Lucy in a tight hug, weeping again as he murmurs his gratitude. Dean watches Lucy slowly stiffen, but from holding back her own tears or from the pain of her injuries, he can't tell. He helps her back to the car, and lets her sit for a long moment. She doesn't speak.

"You okay?"

Lucy's lips pull downwards, but she ducks her chin to hide it. "Last night, I set up a running algorithm to search the missing persons database, for anyone not-found matching my description at the time you found me."

Dean can't say he's surprised. He knows what it might mean, but accepts that while Lucy survived, they might have lost her after all.

"I don't want to stop doing what we do, and I don't know what we'll find, but if I--" her voice cracks, and she stops, fingers trembling in her lap. When she tries again, its in a voice so soft Dean can barely hear it.

"I don't want to die as Jane Doe."

She turns away then, covering her mouth with one hand to stare out the window. Dean can see her reflection in the glass, and gets one glimpse of her tears before looking away.

He squeezes her hand, where it sits on her knee, and nods. "Okay. And we'll face whatever happens, together. All right?"

Lucy nods faintly, but still doesn't look at him.

Back at the motel, she's so exhausted she can barely make it inside. She manages to stay awake just long enough for Dean to change her bandages.

"I think we lucked out, Luce. No infection."

He helps her thread her arms into a flannel shirt and ensures it sits only lightly over her shoulders without pulling or pressing on any of the bandages or bruises. Once she's comfortable, she makes no move to lay down, or rise.

Dean settles next to her on the edge of the bed, close enough for their shoulders to touch. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming for me."

Dean wraps an arm around her, pulling her closer. Her head rests against his shoulder, and he's glad for the contact, the physical reminder that she made it.

"That's what we do for family."

When the shoulder of his t-shirt grows damp, Dean pretends not to notice.

---

The next morning, Lucy tells them it's time to leave. Sam and Dean are both ready to stay a few more days if she needs it, but she shakes her head.

"I don't want to see this town ever again."

They're back on the road by noon, with Lucy quiet in the backseat. When they stop for gas, Dean blindly grabs a newspaper, hoping the crossword in the back might keep her mind off things.

It sits on the seat beside her for the next three towns, untouched and fluttering in the breeze of the open window. From his seat behind the wheel, Dean watches her in the rearview mirror, and doesn't know how to pierce the heavy silence that surrounds her.

Over the following months, other newspapers join their neglected companion on the backseat, eventually finding their way into the trash. As always, the headlines focus on National City and the chaos that seems to have migrated from Metropolis. It escapes Dean's interest as soon as his gaze skims away from the front page.

With everything that's happened, any headline about National City or its superfeud feels distant. Trivial.

Even if Lena Luthor is going to jail for it.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Interlude, Part 6a, Part 6b

What’s Needed

Fandom: Supernatural  Pairing: Reader x TFW // Reader x Castiel  Word Count: 2537 Summary: The first time Cas heals you, he doesn’t notice the cuts. You’d all come back from a particularly rough case - a nest of five vampires had turned into an ambush of thirty and Sam had taken a nasty hit to the head. He doesn’t notice the second time either, with both Dean and Sam out for the count, it had come down to the two of you to exorcise the three lost and confused spirits. The third time around, he definitely noticed.  Warnings: This story contains mention of self harm, depression, and hints of suicide. 

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The first time Cas healed you, he didn’t notice the cuts. You’d all come back from a particularly rough case - a nest of five vampires had turned into an ambush of thirty and Sam had taken a nasty hit to the head. He didn’t notice the second time either. With both Dean and Sam out for the count, locked in separate rooms, it had come down to the two of you to exorcise the three lost and confused spirits. The third time around however, there aren’t enough distractions. 

The case stunk of demon activity and you quickly set up shop inside an abandoned warehouse, devil’s traps drawn all over the floor and one very large one spray painted on the ceiling. There’d been a ladder and you were always a good climber - it just made sense to take extra precautions. Especially since it was you the demon would be chasing. It had been hunting people who fit your description and you were taking a gamble that they wouldn’t know who you were.  Or at least wouldn’t know that you were working in tandem with the Winchesters. 

Things went according to plan and soon you were standing outside the trap while Dean and Sam shot rapid fire questions towards the trapped demon. She just laughed, a horrible deep thing that didn’t match the young girl’s frame at all. Just as Sam began the exorcism incantation, you felt a prickle run down your spine and jerked as a rough hand wrapped tight around your throat. 

A small squeak was the only sound that escaped your mouth before the second demon cut off your airways and slammed you against the nearest beam. Your fingers grasped in vain at his wrist in a desperate effort to get him to let go - he merely chuckled and squeezed tighter, his eyes going black as he leaned in to savour your death.  

Just as your hands fell to your side, a sudden burst of adrenaline shot through your veins, your body refusing to give up just yet. You grasped for the silver knife you kept at your side and brought it up in one clean movement. The demon had no choice to drop you, his severed hand falling next to you on the ground. 

Before you could react, he gave a low guttural cry and with one wave of his hand, sent you flying into the far wall. A burst of pain echoed in the back of your head and without seeing, you held up your bloody knife, prepared to go down fighting. When nothing else came, you cracked open an eye just in time to see the demon forcefully expelled from her vessel. Frantically looking around for the other demon, you realised that Cas was standing over his dead body and then he was next to you, two fingers gently pressed to your forehead. 

Call it intuition or a gut feeling or whatever but the second he touched you and sent healing energy through out your body, you knew he would notice the cuts. Glancing up at him, you saw his eyes widened slightly as he tried to place the odd wounds within the context of the fight. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, you shake your head. “Not here, please.” 

His brow furrows and you think he’s going to call out to the boys and out you here and now, with two dead bodies still to clean up. Instead he helps you up and you’re both go to help clean up the mess they’d made. 

Back at the motel, Dean grabbed a few beers from his room before they all head over to yours - since you were bunking alone, you were also in charge of most of the stuff. “Didn’ think there was two of them,” he admitted, leaning on the back of his chair. “Though it makes sense how a kid was able to carry the bodies so far - demon or no demon that girl didn’t look like she could lift a pound of feathers.” 

You nod in agreement, your smile tampered by the anxiety of Cas knowing your secret. He had been standing against the door, his eyes drilling holes into the back of your head until you were ready to scream. Just when you were about to call it a night, unable to sit still under the intense scrutiny, Cas finally spoke up. And your stomach dropped.

“Why did you have so many cuts along your arms Y/N? There wasn’t enough time for the demon to torture you and I could see no cuts in your shirt.” His low voice held a note of confusion. He genuinely had no idea why you carried the marks and it made your stomach twist into a bundle of knots. Wrapping your arms around your midsection, you tried to think of an acceptable answer even as everything went to hell. Dean and Sam looked up from their spots at the table, smiles fading away as they took in your defensive posture and Cas’ words. 

“Y/N, what the hell’s he talking about?” Dean wasn’t so confused. 

“I - that is…” Even as you tried to explain, the words got all jumbled in your throat and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Cas moved forward at your distress but a quick touch revealed that there’s nothing physically wrong with you. He shook his head and looked over to where Sam and Dean had now gotten up, both wearing looks of surprise and concern. 

You were so wrapped up in your head that you didn’t notice Dean reaching for your arm until it was  too late. With one hand wrapped tight around your wrist, he pulled up your sleeve with the other, letting out a series of curses as he saw your crisscrossed skin. The concerned look on his face quickly melted away and was replaced by a deep anger. 

“You stupid idiot. What the hell is this?” You could feel his fingers bruising your skin but don’t try and pull away or move. It was what you deserved for making them worry. Sam was not of the same mind as you however, and pushed Dean away before stepping between the two of you, his hands held up in a nonthreatening manner. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had things under control. It was helping. 

“I don’t understand,” Cas finally said, his voice cutting through the tense silence that had fallen over the room. 

“She’s doin’ it to herself,” Dean spat. “Those cuts are her own fault.” 

Cas tilted his head, concern mingling with his confusion. “But why?” 

“Yeah, why don’t you tell us Y/N?” Sam shot Dean a dirty look and took a couple steps forward, a comforting smile pasted on his face. As you considered his approach, you understood why Sam was always the one to get people to talk. Even with the fear and anger and sadness in his eyes, you still want to trust him, wants to crack and tell him everything. “You know you’re safe with us Y/N, right? We just want to help.” 

A sudden burning sensation scratched at the back of your eyes and it was all you could do to hold the tears back, to keep your voice as steady as possible while you apologized and promised never to do it again. It didn’t answer the why but how could it when even you don’t understand it most of the time? Some hunters drink themselves into a stupor to cope, others shut themselves off from any sort of human interaction until they’ve turned into a monster themselves. How was what you do any different? 

You didn’t realise that you’d started to cry until you were suddenly wrapped in Sam’s arms, your wet face pressed against his chest, and suddenly you were crying harder, deep wracking sobs that shook your entire body. He was patient, didn’t pull away until you were only sniffling, the occasional tear falling down your cheek. Stepping back, you rubbed at your face and tried not to think about how pathetic you must look, all bleary eyed from crying your heart out. This wasn’t how a hunter behaved. 

Stuttering out another short apology, you pasted on something that couldn’t even be classified as a smile and managed to wave your hand as if it would set everything back to normal. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to bother you with all of this. Or to cry all over you. Or worry you. Like I said, this won’t happen again.” Your voice was shaky and you weren’t sure if they were buying it - when you looked over at Dean you were certain that you’d done a piss poor job of lying. When he moved towards you, you couldn’t tell if he was going to punch you or hug you so, as his arms tightened like a vice around your shoulders you breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Don’t you say shit like that. We’ve dealt with too much crap this year to lose you to this - the next time you start feelin’ this way you call. Day, night, I don’t care.” His hands moved until they were gripping your shoulders, his eyes boring into your soul. “If we don’t answer, then you call Cas. And then you call us. Again.” You slowly nod your understanding but deep down you knew you wouldn't call. It wasn’t fair to bother them with your own petty problems. Despite your misgivings, Dean seemed satisfied with your answer and let go of your shoulders. “Alright then. Glad that’s cleared up.” Moving away from the small circle you’d all formed, he settled in to finish his beer. 

Later that night, once Sam and Dean had gathered all their stuff and brought it back to their room, you jumped in the shower and scrubbed away the days events. You’d turned the water as hot as it could go and leaned your forehead against the yellowed tile, watching the grey sludge whirlpool down the drain. 

Once your fingers were all pruney and you skin scrubbed red, you quickly toweled off and put on your old, ratty t-shirt and shorts, letting your wet hair soak into the back of it. You caught your reflection in the mirror and sighed. A ghost stared back at you, a phantom of someone who you’d once been. If you squinted this way and that, you could almost make out that happy go lucky girl who’d run off with a head full of dreams and a driving desire to save people. You wondered where she had gone, wondered when she had even left. 

Maybe it was the first time you’d almost died. Or the second. Or the third. 

In the end, it didn’t really matter when she had left. All that really mattered was that she had somehow ended up here and you weren’t sure whether that made you want to scream until you went hoarse or curl up in a ball and never move again. 

Your thoughts were broken by a soft knock at the bathroom door followed by Cas’ deep voice. “Y/N are you alright in there? It has been almost two hours since you initially entered the bathroom and I am beginning to grow concerned.” 

Opening the door, you stared blankly at the angel. You had thought he had left with Sam and Dean to do...well, whatever angels did at night. Him showing up here this late at night was definitely not normal. “I’m alright Castiel, promise.” You smiled softly and went to push past him, to clean your knife or fold your clothes or take inventory or to do something other than stand there while he stared at you with those soft blue eyes that saw far too much. 

He didn’t move to stop you, just watched as you flitter from one part of the room to the other, packing up clothes, checking your stock and then making a shopping list. Eventually you got used to his silence and began to forget he was there, watching as you settled down at the table and started to clean your knife. You had just pulled out your sharpening stone when he finally spoke, his voice causing you to startle and nick your thumb. 

“You are not a burden.” Glancing at him sharply, you sucked on the small cut until you were sure the bleeding had slowed. “You are a very competent hunter and one of the most compassionate humans I have ever met. This penance you suffer is not required by God. There is nothing fro you to atone for.” Stepping closer to where you were seated, he clasped a heavy hand on your shoulder and offered you a small smile. 

For the second time that night tears began to well up and you blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. A hunter was supposed to be strong, was expected to protect the innocent and ignorant from the things that go bump in the night. You couldn’t afford these kind of breakdowns, not with so many evils running unhindered on this earth. 

Needing something to snap you out of your maudlin thoughts, your hand unconscionably reached out to pinch any open skin, but before your fingers connected, Cas grabbed both of your wrists and stopped their movement. Despite his loose grip, you knew that struggling would be pointless. “Enough,” he commanded. “Y/N, that’s enough.”  

You weren’t sure if it was the act of someone actually stopping you from causing yourself anymore harm or if it was because Cas never used that tone of voice unless something was seriously wrong. Either way, the tears you’d been holding back burst forth and ran in streams down your face. You were just so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of hiding. Tired of feeling too much and tired of suddenly feeling nothing. 

Suddenly you felt yourself pressed against the rough fabric of Cas’ trench coat and you grasped at the material like a swimmer grasping at a life preserve. You couldn’t apologise, couldn’t bring yourself to lie to Cas anymore. You had no idea how long the two of you stood there, embracing each other in a random motel room off the interstate. All you knew was that Cas wasn’t rushing you, didn’t push you away. He held you long past the tears until a soft silence fell over the two of them. 

It was only when you began to sway in his arms, exhaustion suddenly sweeping over your body, that had him tucking you into bed. Resting a comforting hand on your forehead, he softly commanded you to sleep. Your eyes began to flutter shut but when he moved out of sight, you fought the dark embrace of sleep and managed to sit yourself up in bed. He turned back to you, confused at your movement until you said, “Stay. Please.” 

Cas nodded and brought over the chair Dean had previously been leaning on. “I was merely going to sit at the table but I will remain close by if that is what you wish.” It was a struggle to nod your head but you managed some semblance of it as you curled up under the cheap motel covers, Cas’ blue eyes the last thing you saw before succumbing to sleeps embrace. 

Prompt: Sean and Sue cuddle on the couch while watching a movie.

So I, uhhhh… decided to go with a different writing “style” this time around, hehe… included a bunch of types of hugs/cuddles, but the movie scene is still in there!! 😉💕

Human affection is an interesting thing, Sue Heck decides. Sure, she’s been with a few good boyfriends throughout her dating life, and has had her fair share of hugs and kisses inherent to the functioning of each relationship. But it isn’t until she starts dating her current boyfriend Sean Donahue that Sue begins to think there’s a little more to another’s display of physical affections than just the plain touch. A kiss isn’t just a kiss anymore, and a hand on the shoulder isn’t another warm embrace. It’s only when you truly love someone, Sue surmises, that a simple touch from the person you care about can mean so much more—and so many different things:

Support / Encouragement.

“I did it! I did it!” she shouts. There’s a big smile on her face, and she can’t contain her joy and excitement, waving a crisply-rolled piece of paper as her cap and gown bounce up and down on the open, crowded playing field. Her entire family is there to congratulate her, and she exchanges a hug with each of them, working down the line of relatives until she makes it to the end, and greets him.

“Congratulations, Sue!!” he says, appearing alongside her overly-ecstatic family members. His smile is as wide—and as proud—as hers. He motions to a bag he’s been carrying with him. “Here, I got you a gift.”

She smiles brightly and takes the bag from him, reaching in and pulling out a small cardboard box before opening it, and peering inside.

“Oohh!” she gasps aloud, just as the lid folds open. “My very own service bell!! It’s even got a cute Orson cow design on it and is in my favorite color as well!” She squeals in awe, excitement, and delight. “Thank you, Sean this is such a sweet gift! I love it!”

He nods, and then smiles. “I wanted to give you something that you’ll be able to use right away at your new job. I know you’re going to be great at managing a hotel someday, Sue; your guests are going to love you. You’ve worked really hard to get here, and I want you to know that I’m really proud of you.”

“Well, nothing says ‘Sue Heck at your service’ better than having your guests to ring your very own, actual service bell!” she responds with avid enthusiasm, beaming. She holds up his wonderful gift to show to everyone before saying, “I just hope you’re really right about me getting a job soon, Sean. I’d hate for ‘Sue-vice’ to go out of business before it even gets started!” She’s obviously joking, but there’s a hint of nerves and an odd awareness of true, approaching reality hidden underneath her care-free grin.

“You’ll get one; I know you will,” he says, laughing in response. And he pulls her in for a hug. It’s warm, strong, inviting, and firm—and exactly what she needs right now. His warmth is welcoming, and it spreads all over her, chasing away all her feelings of self-doubt and of being over-whelmed by thinking of everything she still has yet to accomplish. His wide, strong arms block out all of the unnecessary noise (there were a lot of jubilant students reunited with their equally as exuberant parents that day); her speeding adrenaline rush; and all of the new, impending chaos beginning to surround her as his firm, steady hold lends her hope. For once, she can hear herself think again, and her rising fears for the future begin to steadily fade away.

She closes her eyes as his arms tighten encouragingly around her, and she reaches around him as well, carefully holding onto her diploma in one hand and his thoughtful gift in the other.

Their embrace is normal and sweet—a typical display of affection from any couple. But this one is unlike any other. It’s the hug he gives her to tell her that he’s happy for her, that’s he’s here for her, and that he believes in her. That he’s not only here to celebrate her great achievement thus far, but also to remind her of the support, love, and encouragement he will always have for her as her journey continues beyond this life-changing point.

The future ahead is bright, afterall, but it is still, relatively, unknown.

And it’s the same supportive, encouraging, and congratulatory hug he gives her when she announces with unbridled glee that she’s found a job in guest service at a local hotel just a few months later.

Protection.

She shivers as she helps him stack another donation box for Orson’s Annual Christmas Food Drive. Once the last box is stacked neatly on top, they stand next to each other in front of his house, waiting for their moms to drive by and to come pick the boxes and them up.

“Bbbrrr,” she says, shaking in the winter cold. Her nose, cheeks, and the tips of her ears are all flushed, while everything else beneath her puffy, pink coat is quietly rattling. She can already feel the frosty, iced air start to chill her bones as it begins to seep into her thinly-layered mittens, making her fingers go numb.

Suddenly, she feels a certain pressure and warmth encapsulate her entire body. He’s standing behind her with both arms wrapped fervently around her, his heavily jacketed and insulated arms soundly holding her.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking up with a curious smile on her face and a bright, rosy-red nose.

“Protecting your from the cold,” he replies openly. The light note in his voice indicates that he’s teasing her, but his arms stay wrapped securely around her, and his hands don’t break away until they spot their moms’ car driving up in the distance.

It’s a cute and adorably romantic gesture he’s done, she thinks to herself as she feels the full length of his warmth around her shoulders. It’s the type of ridiculously cheesy thing a couple (like them) would do. But somehow, as they wait for those few, short minutes to slowly trickle by, she finds herself feeling warmer, less colder—somehow safer—and with greater strength and determination as she stands up a little taller, and a bit more comfortably, against the terrible cold.

Comfort.

She had come home after a long day at work. He was sitting on the couch, unwinding to some TV as she opened the apartment door and entered.

“Hey, Suzy-Q! What’s up?” he asks in his usual, welcoming and amiable manner.

She doesn’t respond right way, quietly locking the door as she ponders her answer; and when she turns, he immediately recognizes the sadness in her eyes that typically isn’t on her usually cheery, upbeat face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks her. He’s instantly up in his seat, eyebrows raised in serious worry as she silently trudges over.

She’s unable to speak a word, stumbling forward and crashing onto him as soon as she’s made it to the couch.

“Hey… it’s okay,” he answers softly, taking all of her into him. He moves over to let her find a place in the space between his arms; her whole body sinks into him as her head falls near his neck. As her small frame sinks deeper into him, it’s like a pile of incredibly tense and heavy emotions has been weighted onto his lap. He quietly places one arm completely over and around her back, while the other moves to bring the rest of her together. By the time he’s holding her to him, she’s already breaking apart, thin lines of tears streaming down her cheeks.

The warm, comforting tenderness with which he pulls her closer to him tells her that he cares. The patient, loving quietness he displays as he gently strokes her back, soothing her sobs, tells her that he’s ready, waiting, and listening. That he doesn’t quite know what’s happened to set off her feelings in this way, but that he understands. It doesn’t matter what kind of horrible situations she’s had to pull herself through for today; they’ll figure out all of that stuff later. What matters right now, in this moment, is that he’s holding her, that he’s simply there to offer his support and comfort to her as her world falls apart. And that’s all she needs right now—his presence. His unyielding desire to not let her go because she’s already been let down too many times today. And that’s what he gives her as he pulls her even closer into him, wiping the tears and wet strands of hair away from her face, and she cries her heart out into his chest.

Care / Love.

It is night. All the lights are turned off, and their little apartment is quiet and still. The only other movement in the room is the flashing of the TV screen, which switches from one exaggerated face to the other as soft blue and purple-ish hues set their faces aglow.

A funny scene flashes on the TV, and they both laugh quietly together.

His arm is resting on her shoulders; his fingers barely brushing against her. Her head is lying between the start of his shoulder and the peak of his chest, her whole form leaning against his. Both of her legs are bent and bundled upon the couch, while his whole back is resting comfortably against its cushions.

For a moment, she shifts, and as if by natural response, he does, too. Her upper body moves to fit snuggly back into the crooked space created by his arm and torso, and his whole body mirrors her movements to let her back in. And for a moment, they briefly wrestle—he’s desperately trying to find her and she’s frantically looking for him—before he’s been quietly fitted to her and she’s nicely fitted into him once again; and they’re nestled against each other like a perfectly tangled puzzle on the living room couch. His arm pulls her closer into him, and her arm reaches over to fully hug him beneath the blanket covers.

It’s just him, and it’s just her. There are no unnecessary movements, no extra noises, no other distractions.

Just pure, happily contented silence.

There are no words; there don’t need to be. The way his arm is wrapped so easily around her shoulders, and the way she’s snuggled warmly into his side, tells her how comfortable they are with one another. The way he leans into her as he holds her closer, and the way she knows she can happily rest her head on his chest forever, tells her how completely and fully they trust and understand one another. And the way they gradually move closer and closer toward each other, deeper and deeper, until all she hears is the sound of his soft breathing and her heart beating in unison, tells her how much he loves her and how much she loves him—and all she needs to know about the two of them being together.

And for Sue, those are her absolute favorite moments: her most precious, deeply cherished thoughts when thinking about finding any type of human affection in Sean’s arms. It’s moments like that when she believes she truly understands what it means to experience another person’s affectionate touch, what it means to be carefully held—what it’s like to be in love.

And it’s that realization that fills Sue with the truest warmth; it’s that realization that makes her the happiest. And as her realization grows, she finds herself moving closer and closer to Sean, scooting closer and nearer to him—to share with him this warmth, this happiness. She’s pretty sure he feels the same way, too, as he starts to bring himself closer to her as well, the two cuddling so close to each other. And it’s in that moment, when Sue finds herself fitting so warmly, snugly, and perfectly in Sean’s arms, that she knows she couldn’t be happier.

Wanted to try something different so went for something that was a little more… drabble-ish?? :PP I guess if this story could be considered Sean’s introspective, than this one can serve more of as an introspective for Sue.

Hope y'all enjoyed, and that this story sorta half-fills the void while we’re all waiting for the show to come back after the break!! Excited to see what’s next for Sue and Sean, especially after those press release spoilers/pics lololol. 

Also someone tell me if this story came off as too cheesy leool; my goal was to be more “fluffy” this time around because of the incorporation of hugs/cuddles, but who knows how my execution of “fluffy” actually came out as leoleoleoool.

My next one should be out soon…ish??? I’ll try to get it done, at least by the end of this week :P :P 

Send me a prompt and I’ll write a short Sue x Sean fanfic about it leol (closed)

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Nestle In

Request: Hi saw the requests are open for 24 hours! I wanted to ask for a fic with maybe gabexreaderxcas really big fluff. And you can see their wings because yes wings are amazing. Maybe a movie night hunker down. – anonymous

A/N: Alright, so my first thought for this was OMG YES POLYAMORY because, not gonna lie, I’m part of the LGBT+ community, and a lot of forms of our expression (polyamory included) are seriously underrepresented. But, since the anon didn’t specify this and it’s a little controversial, I left that part vague. Hope you like it, anon!

Author: Holly

Warnings: Minor swearing?

Characters: Y/N, Gabriel, Castiel

Word Count: 1,536

Y/N = Your Name

            Witches were evil.

            Dean locked himself in his bedroom for hours as soon as you returned. Sam, looking like he’d seen a ghost (heh), had fallen asleep in the library, reading the same page over and over. You had retired to your bedroom in the lower level of the bunker, cold, soaked through from an involuntary dip in the lake, and feeling lonely. In sad solitude, you took a hot shower and fell asleep on your bed within seconds of hitting the mattress.

            When you next woke up, it was dinnertime, the sun was creeping its way down again, and you could smell something sweet in your room. It only took you a minute to crack your eyes open with a pitiful groan and realize that the sweet smell wasn’t coming from the kitchen, but from a plate of hot, fresh-baked cookies on your bedside table.

            You swore that you were the only person at such a comfortable temperature.

            “Morning,” you mumbled into the arm of whichever angel was in front of you, scooting your legs back to press your feet against the heated calves of the one at your back.

            You could practically hear the head tilt from Cas. “It’s the evening,” he corrected you.

            “I say it’s morning,” Gabe argued, pressed tight to your back and snuggling with his face at the nape of your neck. He patted Cas hard on the chest as if in punishment for disagreeing with you. “Princess says it’s morning. It’s morning.”

            Castiel stiffly held you tighter. His vessel’s heartbeat was in your ear. “But it’s not morning.”

            “Oh, for your father’s sake,” you mumbled into the blue-eyed angel’s chest. “Shut the hell up or I will shove you both out of bed.”

            You, Gabriel, and Castiel were the best of friends, attached at the hips like freakish Sesame twins (according to Dean, who was corrected agitatedly by Sam). You were all very close friends, who would hug and kiss each other’s cheeks and cuddle and sometimes share beds because you were prone to feeling lonely and cold in the isolated rooms of the underground bunker. Gabe and Cas gave you more attention than you needed, and you happily soaked it up. You didn’t want to assume anything, so you didn’t call them your boyfriends, but you loved being their favorite human.

            If Sam wanted to make a joke about Cas coming running when Dean called, then he also had to note that he was usually already there by the time you’d finished saying his name. Gabriel was quick to pull sometimes mean jokes on the boys for his own amusement, but he never made you into a victim of them. And, between the vengeful archangel and the dedicatedly-loyal seraph, no one stood a chance at making you hurt and getting away with it.

            “Was there anything special you wanted to do today, Cupcake?” Gabe offered, rubbing his hand down the side of your body, enticing and comforting. His touch was warm, and with every pass of his hand, you felt yourself relaxing a little bit more. Gabriel was rarely completely still. In contrast to his movements behind you, Cas was supporting most of your weight and letting himself be used as a solid, still, and protective pillow. “Bar hopping in Cali? Swimming off Gold Coast? Don’t stop there – chocolate tasting in Belgium?”

            You sighed, long and quiet, and reminded yourself of the bruising you suspected spotted your ribcage. “I don’t wanna go anywhere,” you mumbled into Cas’s trench coat, reaching blindly for his shoulder. You traced his arm down to his hand and manipulated his limb until his hand was over your temple.

            A moment later, a warm feeling like being doused with warm water ran from the top of your head down to your toes. Since you were laying down, and completely dry, it was a little disconcerting. It swept away the aches and pains of the exhausting week’s hunt and its inevitably violent end. You patted Cas’s hand and mumbled a ‘thanks.’

            Castiel slowly started to pet your hair. It took him a while, but he’d started copying some of the things he saw Gabriel doing to you and you doing to him. The hair stroking was undoubtedly your favorite.

            “You should have called if you were injured,” he scolded quietly, tone level. He was always so concerned. You hummed noncommittally. “You know we would prefer to be called upon than to know you were left in pain.”

            “It wasn’t that bad,” you promised, reaching behind you to drape an arm over the blond. “Thank you though, Cas. You’re awesome. Like, like Captain America. But you’re not blond,” you tiredly added as an afterthought.

            “Right,” Gabe snorted behind you, amused. “Because that’s the only difference.”

            “Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American way?” You sang with a giggle.

            “I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel interrupted. “Who is this Captain? Is he human?”

            “Gabriel,” you decided abruptly, shifting your hips and arms in preparation to sit up. Gabe clung to you like a koala, even as you struggled to move. You grunted and fell down, making him squawk as you landed half on top of him. “Get off. I know what to do with what’s left of the day. We’re having a movie marathon.”

            Gabriel was off of you in an instant. Your head fell to the pillow where he used to be and bounced with an umph. The archangel was standing over by your shelves instantaneously, perusing your DVD collection. “I’ve got the snacks,” he declared seriously, but cheerfully at the same time. “You bring the blankets and the uncultured brat.”

            “Okay,” you agreed. “I have The First Avenger and Winter Soldier on DVD, but we’ll also have to watch Iron Man 2 so he’ll know who Black Widow is. But that means we also have to watch Iron Man so he knows who Tony is in the sequel with Natasha. Let’s do the Iron Man movies between the Captain Americas so that he has the background for the Starks.” You started to pull up your blankets. Castiel stood up from your bed, confused but complacent, and you changed your mind. “Actually, no blankets. We’re gonna pull up the ottomans and make it a nest. Wings, boys.”

            You couldn’t see an angel’s true form without burning your eyes out of your skull. No, thank you. The upside to magic and the supernatural was that there were usually loopholes – while you couldn’t see their real wings (and Gabe boasted that his wouldn’t even fit in the room), they could still manifest physical approximations that wouldn’t turn you into a crispy barbeque.

            You loved when they did it.

            Gabriel’s wings were stunning yellow, just like you had expected, but they changed colors with the lighting. In sunlight, they looked like melted gold. In the dark, when you only had dim lighting or a glowing phone, his feathers appeared like caramel, and in the indoor, slightly-colored overhead lights, his wings seemed to be amber, like finely aged alcohol.

            Castiel’s were less expected. You’d thought the naïve, sweet, comparatively younger angel would have fluffy white wings, soft and smooth like those of a baby bird, lined with down and perfectly pristine. In reality, his wings were dark, somewhere between black-blue and dark purple, and his feathers were long and strong and slim. There was no down, no fluff, and no delicacy to the firm arches. Most surprisingly, while Gabriel preened his wings almost vainly, Castiel usually didn’t realize his were messy until you or Gabe said something. When that happened, you were more than delighted to sit down with him for at least an hour and straighten out his feathers.

            You were wrapped up tight with warm bodies and silkily smooth feathers, so content that you couldn’t even begin to fathom why you might want to move. The movie played in the background, but you were far more focused on the duo keeping you such excellent company. Gabriel was leaned back with his legs spread so that you could lay on his chest in between his thighs, his three pairs of wings out and lain gently over the furniture. The sets on the right were draped over you and Cas both, while your right hand, tucked under Gabe’s wings, were smoothing through a patch of feathers on Castiel’s repeatedly. He laid forward on you, his head on your tummy and turned to watch the TV with fascinated eyes.

            “Please don’t go,” you said without warning, blinking as you surprised even yourself. “I want you both to stay with me tonight.”

            Even as your face turned red, you knew without a doubt that they would say yes.

            The softness of Gabriel’s blanketing wing ruffled and bumped into your cheek. He started to close his legs, squeezing you between his knees. Castiel plastered one wing down over the furniture, showing he had no intention of leaving his comfy position, and the other began to lazily arch up into your touch.

            “You have to ask?” Gabe mumbled, turning his head and pressing his lips to your hair.

            ”There isn’t anywhere we would rather be,” Cas rumbled fondly, hugging your waist closely.

The Party

Author: samwinchestermarryme

Pairing: Destiel

Genre: Birthday party, happiness, love

Fandom: Supernatural

Timeline: January 2017? I guess

Word Count: 2,146

Rating: PG-13

*****

Dean never really thought about his birthday every year until it started to get closer to it. He never wanted a party, nor did he expect one. And if he had to be honest, the thought of a birthday party made him sick. The planning, the constant attention, it was all so unnecessary. It was simply a day that he was born. He didn’t understand the big fuss. He also didn’t enjoy presents. People put so much pressure on themselves to get something the person liked and the person receiving the gift always had to pretend to like it if it wasn’t something they liked. The only good presents Dean usually got were from Sam, and maybe Cas. Sam would usually get him something like a Busty Asian Beauties magazine or some beer from a gas station near the bunker, but it was still as special every year.

Cas would usually get him pie, although it wasn’t even good pie. Dean liked every pie, but the brand that Cas bought just wasn’t good in any way. But he always looked so proud of himself and Dean just didn’t have the heart to ask him how he managed, every year, to get him his least favorite pie. Even in Dean’s head it sounded like something Cas probably didn’t want to hear.

They were the only ones who remembered Dean’s birthday, so the day usually started with opening the presents that were stuffed in a plastic bag. Dean would thank Sam for his magazines and Cas for the pie, and when Cas wasn’t looking, he would empty it in the bottom of the trash can, covering it in the bag from Sam’s gift. After, they would continue on with their normal activities, looking for cases for the next day because Sam would always say that Dean deserved a day off on his birthday.

But it was getting nearer to Dean’s birthday, and he had a feeling deep down that something was going to happen. They had found a case, and Sam had insisted that Dean go with Charlie instead of him and Cas, because according to Sam, he just needed to change it up a bit. Dean simply rolled his eyes and called Charlie asking if she wanted to go on a hunt. She seemed too fast to answer, but he ignored that and waited for her to get to the Bunker.

Sam and Cas seemed too antsy. Neither of them could sit still; Sam tapping his foot and Cas playing with his tie which was as always backwards, which made Dean smile, and always left him confused as to why he was smiling. Sometimes he would do little things that made Dean laugh or smile without him realizing.

No one talked either, which was even more odd. All that could be heard was the ticking of the clock against the wall. Sam and Cas shared a look and then broke off the stare, leaving Dean confused.

“Okay, whats going on, guys?” Deans eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Sam and Cas answered in unison, and again, too fast. They shared another look and Dean stared at them with confusion for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, but they were interrupted when Charlie knocked on the warded door. Dean grabbed his bag and waved goodbye to Sam and Cas, who both looked very happy, and made his way up the stairs to meet Charlie. He opened the door and said said hi to her while making his way to the Impala. While Charlie was on a rant about the new Harry Potter play, The Cursed Child, Dean shoved their stuff in the backseat where Cas usually sits, and Dean felt a quick flash of sadness before shoving it down and paying attention to her again. She was saying something about how she shipped Scorpius and Albus when Dean stopped paying attention and started thinking again about that backwards tie and that wrinkled trench coat.

*****

As soon as the door closed behind Dean, Sam jumped up and walked to the closet where bags and bags of stuff were shoved in the back.

“Sam, I’ve always wondered, why do humans get so excited about birthdays? Isn’t it just the day you exited your mother? It just doesn’t feel that special,” Cas wondered aloud as Sam grabbed the bags of party supplies.

“Cas, I really don’t know, but we are just going to go with it, because it’s Dean, and we all care very deeply for him. And don’t say you don’t, because I know you do.” Sam shoved a stack of cone shaped hats that said ‘Happy Birthday!’ in bright letters into Cas’s arms, walking away to start to set up various party foods and beverages that Cas didn’t think he would like to eat or drink if he still had to.

*****

Even before Dean opened the door to the bunker, he could tell something was up. The row of beat up cars that lined the street were a dead give away. He had been wondering about it for the past two days while Charlie and him were hunting down a massive nest of vamps, constantly thinking about the mischievous looks shared between his brother and best friend.

But what he wasn’t expecting was when he opened the heavy metal door, there was a full on birthday party waiting on the floor below him. Sam, Cas, Crowley, Rowena, Eileen, and so many more people were there, shouting happy birthdays at him. It was overwhelming, but it was nice. Dean did hate being at the center of attention, but this was different. He knew everyone there well enough that he wouldn’t have to deal with awkward family small-talk and hugs from people he didn’t even know the name of.

A genuine smile reached Dean’s eyes as he went to hug Sam to thank him for what he assumed he had planned. He looked over Sam’s shoulder to see Cas staring at him before awkwardly looking away. Sam whispered before he let go of Dean, “he helped plan it too.” Dean knew who he was talking about without hesitation and broke away from Sam’s embrace. He smiled at him before walking slowly over to Cas, who was filling a red cup with punch which was most likely spiked by this point.

“Cas,” Dean says, somehow scaring Cas, causing him to spill some of the drink on Dean’s shirt.

“Oh, Dean, I’m really sorry. Here, let me get you a napkin,” says Cas, turning away, but not before Dean can grab Cas and give him a hug (which he was not intending on doing, but he saw the opportunity and took it), making Cas’s white shirt instantly red too.

“Dean! This was my favorite shirt!” Cas shoves Dean off of him with a smile.

“You have like 20 of same shirts. Anyway, thanks for the party. I really appreciate it.” Dean thought he saw some emotion in Cas’s eyes, but it was gone soon enough. Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, smiled that beautiful smile, said happy birthday,  and walked away.

 *****

 The party was the most fun Dean had had in awhile. There was tequila that he got slightly tipsy off of and there was music. So much music, mostly Led Zeppelin, Bon Jovi, and more classic rock that Dean couldn’t remember the names to. He caught Cas staring at him countless times throughout the party, and each time Cas would look away and blush. Since Dean was in that crowded bunker for who knows how long, he decided he needed some air.

He somehow ended up sitting in a pile of freezing snow on the hill by the bunker, looking at the full moon and stars. He heard the crunch of the shoes on the ice and snow and knew who it was before he sat down next to him. The smell of the familiar trench coat took over Dean’s senses and all he wanted to do was breathe in that smell for the rest of his life. They sat in silence, until Cas broke the quiet.

“Dean, what do you think your heaven would be like?.”

And maybe because it was the tequila, or maybe it was the smell of that god damned trench coat, but Dean said, “This is my heaven. Right here. With you. And maybe Sam.” A blush crept up Cas’s neck and up to his cheeks, but he cleared his throat and handed him a box. Dean looked at Cas, silently asking if he could open it. Cas nodded and watched as Dean’s shaking fingers pulled at the sloppily tied bow.

Inside the box was a gun, no,  the most beautiful gun Dean had ever seen. Its barrel shined in the moonlight and the wooden handle was carved with intricate designs that looked like it would take so many hours to do. Right at the bottom, almost too small to see, were the initials ‘SW’. Next to the gun in the box was a small pocket knife. Dean looked up to Cas with the biggest smile on his face. He carefully set the gun back into the box. He looked at Castiel, who was smiling so wide it was almost blinding.

“Cas, where did you get this? It must have cost a fortune.”

“Dean, please don’t worry about that. It’s your birthday. You’re my best friend,” Cas choked on the words ‘best friend’, but continued on. “And I would fight through hell again for you if it meant that you were here safe.”

Dean’s eyes were starting to fill with the smallest amount of tears, and so he leaned in and hugged Cas, bringing him closer. Small, fluffy snowflakes started to fall around them, one landing on Cas’s eyelash, melting with his body heat.

Dean could feel every touch through his leather jacket that Cas laid on his back, his neck, his hair, and he could only smell that stupid trench coat. Dean pulled back slightly, enough that he could see those shining eyes and those rose colored lips that belonged to the most beautiful angel. Cas glanced down at Dean’s lips and moved his hand to the back of his neck, bringing him closer. Their lips lightly brushed before Dean couldn’t take it any longer and crashed his lips onto his angel’s. As the kiss got deeper, they moved in sync, their breath coming as one and their lips exploring each other. Cas’s other hand made its way to his dirty blonde hair, gently tugging on the roots, earning a soft noise from Dean. Cas smiled against his lips, coming up for air, and immediately going back in, moving as close to Dean as physically possible.

He couldn’t stand the way Dean made him feel. It was like he was soaring through the air, breathing for the first time in so long, that feeling when you go over a hill on the road and you can feel your stomach drop. Dean made him feel all of these things all at once and it made him invincible. He could face the world with just one simple kiss from him. But he also made Cas want to pull out his hair from the teasing and he wanted to shout into the void his love for this human being and oh my Dad he was kissing Dean Winchester, something he had been waiting to do for ever since he laid a hand on him in Hell.

He could feel Dean’s heartbeat wild against his chest, his own heart at a dangerous rate as well. After what felt like hours, they pulled apart, heavily breathing, their swollen lips still millimeters from the others, both of them smiling like idiots.

“The gun,” Dean whispered against Cas’s lips, not wanting to move. “You should carve your initials.”

Dean reluctantly pulled away, but still left a hand in Cas’s, and reached behind him for the gun and knife. He quickly and carefully carved his initials into the gorgeous wood and then handed them to Cas. He looked at Dean, asking if he was really okay with it. Dean nodded with the biggest smile and watched as Cas carved a small ‘C’ into the handle. He handed it back to Dean, who set it carefully back into the box. He looked back up at the stars and sat down next to Cas, who wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long, I’ve just never realized it before now.”

Dean looked up at Cas through eyelashes covered in snowflakes. There was not shock, but love in Castiel’s eyes as he heard the words, and he said them back to Dean so calmly it was like they had been saying it for years.

“I love you, Dean.”