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juniperskye · 1 year

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Letters to Dean.

Part 13.

Word Count: 1033

Warnings: none that I can think of, let me know!

Strike through - things said at the same time

Smaller text/different font - Dean's letter to reader.

**Dean’s POV**

Writing this letter was harder than I had thought. The hard part wasn’t me expressing my feelings about y/n, but explaining to her my own issues. I needed her to know that I hadn’t left because of her but my own selfishness.

As I finished writing the letter, I looked down at my watch to see it was nearly midnight. There was no way she would still be awake at this hour, given the long day we had.

I quietly walked down the hall to the room she was staying in and pressed my ear to the door. I was listening for any sign of movement or sound and came up with nothing. I slid the envelope under her door.

If she was anything like I remembered her to be, she would most likely be restless, she always had been in unfamiliar places. That or she would be up at the crack of dawn, y/n was almost always the first one to rise and she would always spoil everyone with a huge breakfast those mornings.

I figured either way, she would get to the letter before Nora had that chance to mess with it.

**Reader’s POV**

I could never sleep in a place I wasn’t familiar with, especially without Dean by my side. He made everything easier for me. Dean had this calm about him, which knowing everything I know now…it seems kind of strange that he’d have such a calm aura. Perhaps he tried especially hard at exuding that calm for me, so I wouldn’t pick up on how tense things truly had been.

After turning over in bed for what felt like the millionth time, I looked over at Nora to see her sound asleep. Maybe I should go get some water, or knowing Sam, there had to be some tea in this god forsaken place.

I stood up and padded over to the door, I hissed at the loud sliding sound and looked down to see the culprit. There on the floor laid an envelope, crisp and white, save for the small scuff mark from where it had slid across the floor.

I bent down to pick up the letter, turning it over in my hands to see my name scribbled on the front of the envelope. It made me chuckle softly, the fact that Dean had felt like he needed to address it to me. I quietly opened the door, stepped out of the room, and closed the door behind me, trying so hard to keep quiet as to not wake Nora.

I made my way to the kitchen and slowly made my way through all the cabinets until I finally found some tea. Naturally the guys didn’t have an electric kettle, and I wasn’t about to use the stovetop kettle seeing as the whistle would surely wake the entire bunker. I figured the best way to go about this would be to boil some water in a pot.

I had to search through all of the cabinets again just to find a sauce pan. Once I finally found one, I filled it with just enough water and set it on the stove to boil. I sat at the kitchen table and decided that now was as good a time as any. I tore open the envelope to find a letter, Dean’s messy handwriting lining the pages. As I unfolded them a photograph slid out, it was of Sam and Dean, they had been leaning against baby and looking off at something. If I had to guess, Cas must’ve taken this photo. It was a little blurry and given their lack of attention they must not have known he was even taking it. It looked like it was from a few years back. I ran my fingers over the pages once more, took a deep breath and began reading.

Dear Y/N,

Leaving you was the hardest decision I have ever had to make. At the time it felt like the only necessary option. I know now that I was wrong. I should’ve just been honest with you…you have always been the most understanding and accepting person I know. I wish I could go back and change things, but I know I can’t. I can however be better moving forward, and that is what I plan to do. I plan to spend the foreseeable future making this up to you. That is, if you’ll let me, and I am really hoping you will.

Sweetheart, I know I have given you a lot to consider. This life is a lot. It takes so much from you. I just felt like maybe I should try to explain without making excuses.

Sam has kindly informed me that I push people away. It’s easier to do that than let them get close…then lose them. I can’t lose you. But by leaving, I did. I lost you and Nora. I know this is a lot to take in…but know that I thought of you every single day.

I never stopped loving you. Come back to me sweetheart?

-D

I hadn’t even realized I was crying until my tears had started to smudge the writing on the pages. I quickly wiped my eyes and tried to dry the pages. I must’ve sat there and reread that last line a hundred times before I had remembered the pot on the stove. I got up quickly and went to the stove to see that nearly all the water had boiled away. I turned the stove off and moved the pot into the sink. I walked back to the table and looked at the letter once again. He had never stopped loving me, and I hadn’t stopped loving him…things should just be able to go back to normal. Only they can’t, things would never be the same, not with what I know now and with us living in this bunker and navigating parenthood in this new world. My head was spinning and again it was like I had no control of myself, I had found myself at Dean’s door, fist raised, ready to knock.

Before my fist could even make contact, the door swung open.

“Dean”

“Y/N”

Please do not steal my work. The images within the Polaroids are not mine. But the whole image is my property as it comes from within my personal journal. The story is mine however I do not own the characters depicted. Please feel free to message me about this story - ideas for a new one - questions or comments!

I do not consent to having my work translated, copied, or posted elsewhere. If you should see my work on another site, or being claimed by another individual, please inform me.

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redlettermediathings · 2 years

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The dead don't die. No one is ever really gone. Etc.

#redlettermedia #jay bauman #rich evans #half in the bag #red letter media #gorilla interrupted #best of the worst #mike stoklasa #jackpackard #jack packard #stan lee #james dean

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deancaspinefest · 3 months

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Another Kind of Memory

Author: FriendofCarlotta | Artist: Aggiedoll

Posting on Wednesday March 20

Since a traumatic incident six years ago, Castiel Novak’s face has been disfigured by a scar. He’s resigned himself to being someone people can barely stand to look at, let alone love. Except his heart doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. When Dean Winchester takes over the convenience store down the street from Castiel’s bookshop, Castiel falls helplessly in love with his new neighbor. To make matters worse, Castiel’s sister Anna is also interested in Dean. Believing that Dean could never love him, Castiel decides to help Anna win his heart instead.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Hey,” Dean says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Just… wanted to say hi.”

“Oh. Hi,” Castiel says, one hand fluttering nervously down his face and across his hair in an attempt to ensure he’s looking presentable. The tips of his fingers catch on the ugly, jagged ridge of his scar, and he remembers that “presentable” stopped being an option six years ago. He clears his throat and arranges his face in the polite mask of a consummate customer service professional. “Anything I can help you find?”

“Um.” Dean looks uncertain now, as though it’s a question he wasn’t expecting — despite the fact that it’s easily the most predictable question one could be asked in a bookshop. “I don’t know. I was just gonna browse, I guess.”

This is the point in a customer interaction where Castiel would usually withdraw, because “I’m just browsing” is universal bookstore code for “leave me the fuck alone.” But Dean doesn’t give any sign of wanting to walk away. Instead, he simply hovers in front of Castiel’s armchair, eyes gliding aimlessly (and somewhat helplessly) across the shelves to his right.

“What sort of things do you like to read?” Castiel finds himself asking, because it’s impossible not to take pity on a grown man who is capable of looking so bashfully lost.

“Anything,” Dean says. One of his hands flies to the back of his neck, rubbing at it. There’s something terribly endearing about the gesture — perhaps the fact that it makes him look like a boy who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Belatedly, it occurs to Castiel that it’s his turn to speak. His prolonged silence appears to have made Dean nervous, because he’s speaking again, a little too quickly to be altogether natural. “I know that sounds stupid. Like those people who say they like all kinds of music — which I don’t, by the way, just to be clear. Big classic rock fan. Zeppelin, the Stones. Metallica too, which I guess is classic rock these days and fuck, that’s kind of depressing. But, yeah. Anyway. Pretty much anything. Love Vonnegut and Kerouac, but I’ve read just about all their stuff. I’ll read sci-fi, horror, mysteries… actually, I guess I should say I read all kinds of fiction. Non-fiction kinda puts me right to sleep. My brother, Sammy, he’s a big fan though. Crazy about true crime for some reason.” Dean blows out a heavy breath. He abruptly seems to realize he’s scratching at his neck and lowers his arm back down, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves now. “You probably didn’t need to know all that, huh?”

“No, this is helpful,” Castiel says, getting up. “I’ll show you the layout of the store so you can see which shelves you might be most interested in.”

Somehow, Dean’s shyness makes him feel more at ease. When he first laid eyes on Dean, he thought someone as handsome as Dean must be a smooth and confident conversationalist. But he doesn’t seem to be, and somehow, that makes it easier for Castiel to hold up his own end of the conversation.

Or maybe it’s just that Dean doesn’t know how to talk to someone like Castiel. He wouldn’t be the first one.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Wednesday March 20)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: FriendofCarlotta #artist: Aggiedoll #Inspired by Cyrano de Bergerac #Love Letters #Misunderstandings

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drulalovescas · 1 year

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Nah, because they didn't even introduce Abel, THE Abel, but they created a completely new character, Colette, the love of Cain's life and then paralleled her with Cas.

#Colette the love of Cain's life #Castiel the love of Dean's life #destiel #they were insane for this parallel #because there was literally no need to introduce Colette unless...#her name starts with the letter “C” just like [gunshots]#thank you Robbie for your service #spn s9e11 #spn s8e8 #spn s10e22 #spn s15e18

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mattzerella-sticks · 2 years

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Oh my GOD

It just hit me.

There were originally 13 episodes in series order.

Today’s episode was titled after a song (Teach Your Children Well).

The next two episodes that are listed on wikipedia are also song titles (You’re Lost Little Girl and Masters of War).

13 episodes. 13 songs. What else do we know has 13 songs?

#spnwin #the winchesters #spnwin spoilers #dean winchester telling the story the only way he knows how to #through music #this isn't a story about his parents #this is dean's love letter to cas y'all #destiel #deancas #this is about MORE than dean's parents #this is dean trying to explain his feelings #spn #supernatural

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meldy-arts · 1 year

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Long night of research

#I put so much work into this and I'm so pleased with it #Shading and details aren't usually my thing but I wanted to add it #Even if i'm not that great at it #Dean Winchester #Supernatural #Men of letters #DeanWinchester #SPN #Myart #Dean #I'm so unbelievably happy with how this came out #Jackles

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miraidashinomia · 2 months

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I think spn fic writers are sleeping on writing time travel fics to the 40s-50s when American Men of Letters were still alive, and exploring Sam and Dean's relationship with Henry, and even meeting Henry's father, and MOL being shocked by the future and by the boys' behavior like Henry was when he traveled to the future, and Sam and Dean hating MOL because of their strict hierarchy and like restricted access to the knowledge depending on your rank, which will INFURIATE Sam... So many unexplored possibilities... Someone write a fic I'm beggin'

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #henry winchester #american men of letters #men of letters #bunker era #fic ideas #writing prompt #time travel au #it'll be such a good outsider pov like people are sleeping on it #sam and dean #samdean #outsider pov

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sucksesful-user · 18 days

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thinking about the parallels between the British men of letters and how John and Mary hunted. how the men of letters have that code that they have to kill any monster, just like John and Mary were. and that's why Mary was so willing to go with them.

and how much Sam and Dean have grown that they no longer kill on sight, that they let monsters that don't kill people live, and i just think that's beautiful. they no longer let John and Mary control them in that way

#supernatural #jensen ackles #dean winchester #jared padalecki #sam winchester #team free will #misha collins #castiel #john winchester #mary winchester #british men of letters #mick davies

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karishmaniazkilam · 3 months

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humnooshop · 2 months

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A repeating pattern of Supernatural symbols :)

Tote bag and other products available on my Redbubble

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juniperskye · 2 years

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Letters to Dean.

Part 8.

Author’s note - I am changing up my writing style a bit for this one as we are moving along in the fic. Also (y/d/n) is your daughters name - I didn’t want to pick a name for her and have it be the name of one of my readers! Thanks all!

Part of me expected Dean to be here. The other part of me hoped he wouldn’t be. It was one thing to have to explain to Sam that he had a niece that I’ve been keeping a secret…but explaining to Dean that he had a daughter, now that was a a whole other feat I hadn’t been prepared for.

Sam calling my name is what finally pulled me out of my thoughts. I shook my head and walked over to them, clutching (y/d/n)’s hand tight in my own as I guided her over to the table.

Sam was quick to embrace me all the while Dean stood there, slack jawed, eyes wide as they observed (y/d/n).

“Hey Sam, Dean.” I said nodding my head slightly.

“Hey! How have you been? And who’s this?” Sam said.

Dean just continued to stare…seemingly waiting for an explanation as to who this little girl was and why he’d never heard about her.

“This is (y/d/n), baby this here is Sam and this is Dean” I said pointing them each out as she hid behind my legs. “Look I will explain everything but first I gotta get her something to eat.” I said.

Sam waved the waitress over and she took our order. We all sat silently as she went from person to person, writing our choices on her notepad. As soon as Sam finished talking he thanked her and she was quick to take her leave, putting our ticket in with the kitchen.

“Okay so I guess I should start with how this all happened…” Just as I was about to begin my explanation for keeping (y/d/n) from the Winchester boys our waitress came back to give us our drinks and a coloring placemat for (y/d/n).

As she walked away I started up again “Dean you and I we hadn’t planned this but things were seemingly well…and it’s not like we were careful. Sorry Sam. But I found out I was pregnant and I wanted to find a way to tell you and so I planned a whole day for us, we’d pack some food and take baby out and I had this whole cutesy we’re gonna have a baby while driving in baby thing planned…I don’t know it all sounds so stupid now. But anyway you left that night, I woke up to see you had cleared out your drawers and left without even saying goodbye.” I was rambling, not quite sure how to explain it all, as it had happened so fast.

“That doesn’t explain why you never told me!” Dean had raised his voice just as our waitress was coming back with our food.

“Dean it’s not that simple. You left, what was I meant to think. I wrote to you…over and over again but then I thought about how I’d hate to have you come back just because you feel obligated.”

I looked over to (y/d/n) she was digging into her pancakes, not a care in the world about the conversation happening around her. She had drawn cute little flowers all over the paper placemat with the crayons the waitress had brought over earlier.

“If you didn’t want to be with me then I wasn’t going to force it by telling you I was pregnant. That’s not fair to either of us. I’m sorry I never told you, either of you. I get that it’s not fair to have kept her from you but you need to know that she knows who you are. I’ve told her so much about the two of you.” I looked down to my hands thinking of when I finally told her about her dad and her uncle…she had asked me why it was just us two and I decided it was best she finally knew.

Sam gave a tight lipped smile, understanding where I was coming from…I could tell by the look in his eyes. Dean however, he wouldn’t meet my gaze, eyes shifting from his coffee to my hands to our daughter. This whole thing was getting to me, having to explain myself when he’s the one who left. He walked out on me and yet none of this is why we’re here right now.

“Look guys we can talk more about this later. We really should be getting to the actual reason we’re here.” I said quietly

“Right! You said someone had been asking about Dean.” Sam suggested

“It was some weirdo in a trench coat. Said he was no stranger to Dean and that his name was Cas. He’d said it like it should’ve meant something to me.”

It was then that Dean’s head snapped up, eyes finally meeting mine.

“Cas! You’re sure? What did he say?” Dean practically knocked his coffee over.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #sam x reader #supernatural #supernatural preferences #sam and dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #sam whinchester #dean and cas #castiel #john winchester #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x reader #sam x y/n #letters to dean

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marchtothefuckingsea · 2 years

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The Devil's Heel - Lucifer (Supernatural)

My Masterlist

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Injury, canon violence and descriptions of gore/injury. Not proofread.

soulmate au (where an angel's soulmate can see their wings because i love thag au so much), x gender neutral reader, no usage of y/n! Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort.

Summary: Reader has a bad past with angels. They get hurt on a hunt and, although they didn't know the devil that has been staying in the bunker was their soulmate, Lucifer comes to the rescue. They're terrified, understandably so.

I groaned in pain as I was thrown into a wall for the second time today. My head slammed backwards against it, and I saw stars. A weak moan left my lips when gravity worked its magic. I slid down ungracefully to the floor, my body a limp heap. My angel blade clattered onto the floor a meter away from me. The demon-who I hadn't identified yet-kicked the knife even further away from my grasping hands; just for good measure.

"You fucking-" I hissed out, shoving myself to my uninjured forearm, hunched over and gasping. My trembling voice did little to hide the panic threatening to claw its way up my throat. This was just supposed to be a salt and burn. Maybe a poltergeist at worst.

"How original." He sneered. A hand came down, gingerly taking my angel blade I always kept at my side. I raised my head and growled, low and raspy, and he suddenly plunged it into my shoulder. A strangled gasp escaped me as I toppled backwards from the force of the blow, clutching my shoulder. The demon ripped it out, cutting my palms in the process. He slashed it across my chest once, then twice over my torso. My vision was blurred badly. I could barely whimper out hoarse noises of agony, only able to toss my head back and forth. I was barely conscious.

Even so, as I drifted in and out of consciousness, I couldn't help but to be forced to relive the pain, the torture that had come during my 'stay' with certain angels.

I heard a voice in the distance.It was the demon; finally tired of toying with me and, with a bored sigh, sunk the angel blade somewhere through my broken ribs. First came the shock. Then I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my chest when I drew in a surprised gasp. It became hard to breath without triggering the agony, so my breath came in short pants. Instinctively, I just wanted the thing in my chest that was causing me pain out. So, without giving it a second thought, that's what I did. I grasped at the handle of the blade, crying out as it slid out of my chest.

The demon immediately knocked the knife out of my hand, as if I was any threat to him in my current condition. I went limp, realizing my mistake of removing the blade when it now became even harder to breathe. My hand rested limply over the wound with the intent to apply pressure, that I didn't have the strength in me for. My eyes fluttered shut.

I flinched when I heard the sound of feathers fluttering; the sound an all too familiar one to me. I struggled to not bolt upright, hoping it was just a figment of my near-death brain, tormenting me before I died. Even so, I forced my eyes open. I fought to focus my eyes on the new winged figure, who was obviously an angel. There was only one angel, I knew, whose wings I could see. It was none other than Lucifer.

Lucifer, the fallen archangel. Lucifer, one of the oldest and most powerful of his brothers and sisters. Lucifer, who was supposed to be caged in the bunker, at the moment. The devil himself, who appeared to have escaped the banker's warding to keep him contained from causing the apocalypse.

My eyes widened in alarm. I forced myself onto my forearms, immediately regretting the action when pain shot through my right arm. Panting, I writhed on my side, struggling to put as much distance between myself and the archangel as I could. His eyes, red with fury, darted between the demon and my broken form on the floor. His wings were spread out in what could only be meant to intimidate. They were taut, and almost vibrated with rage. I heard him mutter something low and angry under his breath, before the demon was a stuttering mess. It apologized hastily, but that didn't stop the devil. He raised his hand, middle finger and thumb tips poised to snap. The demon backed up as if the distance would keep him safe. A snap echoed hauntingly throughout the abandoned room, and the demon exploded into a cloud of black dust. It only reminded me just how powerful the archangel, who now faced me, was. I shrank back, panting shallowly and cradling my broken forearm to my chest.

I heard him say something, but my brain couldn’t register it. All I knew was, before I could even blink twice, he was standing beside me, peering down at me. His eyes, now blue, roamed over my beaten form, taking in my condition. I shifted, struggling away from him until I coughed. My breath hitched in my throat painfully as I twisted around for the angel blade sheathed at my hip, only to remember it had been knocked out of my grip by the demon, and had clattered onto the floor uselessly. Blood bubbled up in my mouth, confirming what I already knew was true. I coughed again, and again, fighting to twist onto my stomach. No matter how much it hurt, I knew I would drown in my own blood if I didn’t; but I couldn’t. The deep wounds on my abdomen bled profusely, soaking the worn floorboards with my blood, so much that it began to pool around me. It made the floor slippery, and my hand slipped uselessly against the floor as I struggled to right myself. With every shallow breath came a little more blood. I continued to cough, instinctively, even though it hurt more than anything.

I didn’t have the strength to fight when I felt arms wrap around my body, pulling me into the devil’s lap as he now kneeled on the floor beside me. Still coughing up blood, I gratefully sucked in the air I could now get, thanks to not lying on my back anymore. I panted, unable to focus on anything but the air in my lungs; and the pain in my lungs that would have had me sobbing if I had the breath to.

When the coughing fit ended, I laid limp in Lucifer’s arms for a moment more, my energy spent. It took me several heartbeats before I began to kick my legs weakly, and then fought against his iron grip. I knew he was abnormally strong, much stronger than any human. If he didn’t want to let me go, I wouldn’t be going anywhere. And he didn’t. My eyes widened in panic, and I struggled more and more against his grip on me. He allowed me to flip onto my side, and I whipped my head up. His eyes had an uncharacteristic softness in them. That, paired with the foreign expression on his face, only served to further confuse and scare me. I had been tortured and nearly killed-only to be healed and brought back for more-by so called angels many times over. I knew how quickly angels could shift. If angels were that terrible, the fallen archangel holding me now could only be much, much worse.

I whimpered pathetically, writhing in his grip as I remembered how he had turned that demon-the one that had just about killed me-into nothing so easily. He was a creature of nightmares, far worse than a demon. He was, after all, the devil himself.

“Calm down, sheesh.” He said, though it wasn’t accompanied by an eye roll or the sarcastic tone it usually would have been. His voice was flat, deadpan at most, tinged with something bordering worry. Almost like..fear? What could the devil possibly have to fear?

I forced myself to still, my breath still coming in pained, shallow pants. He shifted me in his arms, and I found myself letting him. I didn't make any attempt to shuffle away from him, even when I had the chance to do so. Maybe I was too tired. I had lost a lot of blood, after all; I was dying. And I didn't know what the devil had in his plans for me. The thought sent a jolt of fear into my very being.

I did protest, though, when his arms slid under me and he stood, hoisting me up with him effortlessly. I found myself clutching to him with shaking hands, a strangled, painful noise leaving my throat at the

small movement. His wings curled around the both of us almost protectively, although I had the nagging feeling it was more for me than for him. I clung to him as the familiar, yet foreign feeling of angel teleportation washed over me. The few times I had experienced it, it had felt completely different; it had felt wrong. Uncomfortable, to say the least. My entire being had tingled almost painfully, like pins and needles. But this time, with Lucifer, it felt familiar in the most foreign way possible. A comfortable warmth spread through every fiber of my being. One that almost felt as if it were coming from inside me, as well as him; instead of the pins and needles that had tried to painfully penetrate my skin before. If it hadn't been for the terror of my past trauma, I might have even found it comforting.

When my eyes finally focused, I realized we were at the bunker. I felt a little better at the familiar surroundings. Simultaneously, remembering the Winchester's absence, my fear rose. But exhaustion and shock were beginning to catch up to me. As well as the knowledge that I would most certainly die if I didn't tend to my injuries.

"Let me go." I mumbled, pushing my hand against his chest.

"Do you really think you can stand in your condition?" He argued, but he shifted me in his arms anyway. Carefully, with more caution that I would have expected, he stood me on my feet. He didn't go far, nearly hovering over me as he let me go. As soon as he let go, my legs buckled, and he was holding my waist, lowering me to the floor.

"Get away from me." I hissed out painfully. My chest felt like I had been stabbed again as I inhaled sharply.

"Do you want to die or do you want to die?" He shook his head, glaring at me. "Stubborn humans." He muttered under his breath, crossing his arms.

He turned around, taking several paces away from me before spinning back around. "What will it be?"

"I- I need help." I admitted quetly, hanging my head in defeat.

"I guess you're not the most stupid one." He mused, as if this were a game. "But, haven't you ever been told not to make deals with the devil?"

I grit my teeth. "'S not really like I have a choice right now."

"Right-o there." He grinned. He kneeled beside me once again. His hand outstretched, two fingers poised to touch the most fatal wound I had; the puncture to my lung.

I shrank away, willing myself to allow it to just happen. As his fingertips began to glow, I panicked.

"No, no. No grace-" I mumbled out, flinching into the wall.

He noticed my fear and, unlike I had expected, he withdrew his hand immediately. His expression was torn for a split second, but ultimately he allowed the confusion to show clear on his face. "What? Why not?"

"I can't..explain. Just.." My voice shook. "Please." I said quietly, my lungs hurting more with every word.

He surprised me yet again with the suddenly softer tone in his voice. "I'm going to have to, for this one at least." He explained gently. I debated, struggling internally. He waited patiently, never showing a hint of impatience or irritation.

"Okay." I answered softly. I felt how each breath hurt more and more; it became harder and harder to suck in air as my lung collapsed. He nodded grimly, so close now that he took up the entirety of my unfocused sight. In my peripherals, his wings curled around me protectively, though I tried not to focus on them. I had a hard time believing that the devil was suddenly protective of me, but I didn't want to think of how his wings could be boxing me in as well.

He glanced at me for confirmation, surprising me, and I nodded. Still, I couldn't help but to shrink against the wall as his glowing fingers met the fatal wound on my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching my jaw and preparing for the pain that usually came with an angel's healing.

But just like before, Lucifer's grace was warm, and entirely unpainful. Compared to my previous experiences with being healed by angels, where I had felt the bones in my body shifting painfully back into place, and the stinging of open wounds being forced back together; this was a part of me. It was something bigger than both of us, I could sense that much, but there was something in me that rose up to meet his grace when he used it on me.

I found myself relaxing at the comforting warmth, the safety, I felt. My muscles relaxed, and I slumped against the wall. A small sigh left my lips when I realized I was able to breathe without nearly as much pain anymore. Still though, I hesitated to open my eyes.

"It's done." Lucifer's voice told me, uncharacteristically kind. I knew once I was in my right mind again, I would be getting serious whiplash from this.

"Thank you." I said gratefully, finally opening my eyes. I had to stop myself from jerking back at his unexpected closeness. His vessel's blue eyes were level with mine, something unreadable flitting around in them.

"Let me heal the rest." His voice wasn't pleading-he was the devil, and he never would stoop that low-but it was close.

"No, I'm-" I hissed between gritted teeth as I pushed myself to my feet. He stood quickly, mirroring my actions. "I'm fine."

I took a hesitant step forward, still weak, and stumbled right into him. "Woah there." He said, catching me by the shoulders, his wings once again curling around me; seemingly out of instinct, by now. I flinched purely out of instinct, although I didn't know what I had been expecting to happen. He had already proved he wouldn't harm me.

"I'm fine." I repeated stubbornly, suddenly aware he had healed my arm, too. I looked down at my arm, then to him, narrowing my eyes. "Thank you." I said half begrudgingly.

He shrugged. "Figured you couldn't bandage yourself up with just one working arm."

"Guess so." I grunted, shuffling against the wall. I stopped in the hallway, just outside the door to the infirmary. I closed my eyes, leaning against the doorframe and letting out a nauseated breath.

"You good?" His voice made me jump. I hadn't expected him to follow me here; I thought he would have lost interest now that the threat of death was no longer looming over me. The excitement was gone. Even more puzzling, was the seemingly genuine question from the devil.

"I'm good." I answered, a bit more harshly than I had intended to. He didn't seem offended in the least.

With more effort than it should have taken, I finally pushed the door to the infirmary open, staggering in. I immediately went for the painkillers, before remembering the archangel that had followed me into the room, not leaving my side for a second. I hesitated, before groaning and turning to the bandages and disinfectants. I hoisted myself onto the bed, letting everything onto the bed beside me.

Tugging my shirt off, I still hissed in pain at the various deep slashes that were littered across my stomach and ribs. I looked up for a moment to find Lucifer leaning against the doorframe, a frown on his face. As soon as he caught me though, he immediately opened his mouth to, most likely, make a sharp remark.

"Not in the mood." I ground out, my eyes flashing to his for a brief moment. Surprisingly, he shut his mouth.

Tears welled in my eyes at the burning sensation as I dabbed at the gouges in my skin with a water-dampened cloth. My hands shook. This wasn't even the worst of it yet.

Next came the alcohol. That was, until I couldn't help the whimper and the involuntary jerk of my hand that caused the bottle to go flying onto the floor. I grasped my stomach as if that would help to lessen the pain, gasping. Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw Lucifer flinch simultaneously.

"You need, uh, you need help with that?" He offered, his voice guarded as he tried not to sound too helpful.

"Yeah, probably." I sighed in defeat. I held myself still from flinching when he came closer. His fingertips brushed mine as he took the bandages and cloth. Gently, he dabbed at the gashes running across my stomach, while my hands balled up the white sheets into fists. I grit my teeth.

"I could just heal them." He insisted again, sighing in annoyance.

I shook my head. "Why are you so against my grace?"

"I just am."

"There's more to it than that." He huffed, but the feathers on his wings didn't ruffleI as they usually did when he was irritated. I knew it was an invitation to open up to him.

I sucked in a sharp breath at the alcohol he poured onto a wound, jerking back slightly. "I haven't had the best experiences with it. Or angels in general." I said hesitantly, quietly. He hummed, indicating he was listening. "They..they tortured me before. For information." I put it bluntly. I didn't see the point in dancing around the truth, not around the devil.

A frown had formed on his face. His jaw was rigid and his wings moved towards me slightly, taut with tension as well. "What kind of information?"

"About you." My voice was small, in an attempt to not anger him further. It wasn't my fault, but I didn't know that.

His eyes began to glow with the faintest hint of red, and every muscle in his body was tensed. "Lucifer?" I asked quietly. He took a step back.

"This whole time, they knew, and they dared to-" He muttered to himself. At the rage in his voice, I unconsciously leaned away from him, my arms coming up around my now-bandaged waist defensively. He immediately cut himself off when he saw the fear on my face and in my posture, taking a deep breath. His eyes slowly faded back to his vessel's blue. His wings were still taut, but he gave me a look to continue.

"They would leave me nearly dead, then heal me up again with their grace for another round." I told him what I knew he wanted to hear; what they had done to me. Why I was afraid of his angel's grace. I grit my teeth, furiously wiping away the tears in my eyes. It had happened only a few months ago, and the memories were still fresh enough to almost feel them as I explained it.

His face held a sort of understanding now that he knew. He nodded, though I could still feel the fury radiating off of him.

"Why are you still here?" I asked, in an attempt to break the ice and as a genuine question. "I'm not going to die anymore, there's no more excitement to be had." He pretended to look offended.

"Couldn't let my soulmate just die now, could I?" Soulmate. Even though it sounded foreign to me, it almost immediately seemed to make sense. It was the word, no, the explanation I had been looking for since the strangeness of his grace, compared to the other angels. That, and the closer bond that had seemed to draw the two of us together ever since he had first used his grace on me.

Even so, I had to consciously make an effort to close my mouth that had opened in shock. "We're-"

"Surprise! Your soulmate is the devil. Lucky you, right?" He grinned, though I could see something in his eyes that wasn't right.

"No, more like lucky you." I smiled weakly, still unsure. I had come across very brief, shallow information of angels and soulmates before in different texts, but I still knew so little about it. "You get a hunter as a soulmate."

He faked a grimace. "Yeah." He seemed more relaxed though, and I knew what I hadn't been able to place in his eyes before. He was afraid that I would be disappointed. That he had waited only god knows how long for a soulmate-maybe even believing he didn't have one, as part of his punishment-only for his soulmate to hate him, to hate being tied to the devil himself.

"So how does this..work…now?" I trailed off, gesturing between us.

"We're attached at the hip now!" He exclaimed.

"Seriously. Why didn't this come up before? How long have you known? Did-" I was silenced by a finger to my lips, and suddenly Lucifer was much closer than he ever had been, face inches from mine.

"Quiet with the questions, sheesh." He groaned, leaning away. "May I?" He motioned to the empty spot on the bed beside me. I nodded.

"First of all, my grace, well, activates the bond, you could say. That's why this hasn't happened before. I didn't know until then, either. Although, I've always had this nagging pull towards you, I suppose. Annoying." He huffed. I unconsciously leaned towards him, our shoulders brushing.

"Being my..mate," He almost hesitated at using that word, glancing at me, but I didn't grimace or react negatively towards his word choice. "Your soul is intertwined with mine. In other words, you have a small bit of my grace in you. And I, a small piece of your soul."

"That's why your grace doesn't hurt." I mumbled in realization, more to myself than to him. "Oh."

He looked down at me, eyes telling me to explain. "The angels, when they used their grace on me before. It was like it was penetrating into my skin. It hurt. But yours…didn't. Not at all."

He explained more, but I began to nod off against his shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to me. The sound of his voice was surprisingly comforting as I dozed, until he stopped, noticing my unconsciousness.

"Let's get you to your own bed." He stood, slowly, so I had time to wake up before I dropped from his shoulder. I jolted awake at the movement, apologizing profusely once I realized what I had done. The smug smile on his face told me enough.

I leaned against him heavily as we walked down the hallway to my own room. He shoved the door open, nearly supporting me by my waist. I immediately slumped onto the bed with a sigh and a wince. My eyes already began to shut again, until Lucifer pulled away. When I opened them, his wings were taut, poised to leave.

"Don't go."

His look was one of surprise. "What?"

"Stay here." I knew, with the events of today, that my nightmares would be haunting me the minute I slipped off into sleep. I didn't know how to explain it to myself, least of all to him, how I felt safer with him there. How the prospect of him leaving at the moment was almost scary to me. I didn't have to though, he read it all through our bond.

He nodded silently, kicking his shoes off and sitting on the edge of the bed. He waited for my confirmation before pulling me against him and lying us both down on the mattress. With a sigh, I felt myself immediately relaxing against him.

I felt safe as I drifted off, though somewhere in the back of my head, I knew this was the devil and he was dangerous. But I also knrw there was no threat here. Not as long as he was with me.

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