#rowena is doing a different KIND of research here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

samsexualdeancurious · 9 months

Text

Enough Hope Left

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Words: 2,072

Summary: Sam and Y/N have been trying to have a kid but without much success.

Warnings: Married Sam x Reader, fertility issues and light discussion.

Written for an Archangel Patron request.

---

Three tests. Three little windows.

Three negative results.

“Y/N” Sam starts but you’re already pushing past him on your way out of the bathroom. You have to get out. You have to be away from him.

You almost collide with Dean in the hallway but ignore his questions as you continue on your way. Your eyes are already pricking with tears and you need to go somewhere - anywhere - you won’t be seen as you cry your heart out. The tears aren’t going to wait, though. They’re coming on hard and fast and fuck.

Not pregnant. Still.

Fuck. Everything.

You never thought you would be the kind of person to cry over a negative pregnancy test and yet here you are, frantically wiping tears from your cheeks as you lock your bedroom door behind you. You can hear Sam banging on it, calling your name, as you throw yourself onto the bed. A locked door won’t keep him out if he really puts his mind to it but you know Sam. he’ll respect your need for space and probably be sitting against the wall, waiting for you, when you finally emerge.

With that knowledge in mind, you clutch Sam’s pillow to your chest and sob.

It’s been almost two years since you and Sam decided to start trying but nothing has changed in that time. You’ve probably spent a fortune on pregnancy tests and at-home fertility remedies and nothing. Not one single thing has worked. Being a hunter, you don’t really have other options and you’re starting to run out of hope. It’s not like you can just set an appointment with a fertility specialist or adopt a kid. Your fake insurance probably wouldn’t hold up well enough for that. Plus, Sam doesn’t even have a legit form of identification seeing as he’s legally dead at least twice over. You’re out of options.

Maybe you’re just destined to never have a kid and you need to accept that fact. Knowing that and actually accomplishing it, though, are two completely different tasks and you’re not really sure you’re capable of either.

Sure enough, Sam is seated on the floor by the bedroom door with his long knees folded up to his chest. He lifts his head when you open the door and your heart breaks all over again at the sight of his tear-reddened eyes. You forget, in the depth of your own pain, that Sam is hurting, too. He wants this just as much as you do, you know he does.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, sinking to the floor beside him.

Sam shakes his head and loops one arm around your shoulders to pull you close. “I just… I wish there was something more I could do.”

You burrow into Sam’s side with a sniffle and a little shrug. “I don’t think there’s really anything else we can do.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll think of something. A spell, a charm…”

No. Using magic to get pregnant sounds like a terrible idea. “Sam-”

“Let me and Rowena do the research, okay? There has to be something out there-”

“Sam.”

His mouth snaps closed and you lift one hand to cradle his cheek.

“Sam,” you say again. “I’m not using magic. Don’t even go there. It’s not an option for me and never will be. Just leave it, okay?”

“But-”

“Leave it. Sam, please.” You draw him in for a soft kiss. You can feel how desperate he is to fix this for you, to make everything right in the world and give you exactly what you want, but you can’t do this. Not right now. “I can’t do this right now.”

Sam hesitates and then gives a small nod of accent.

“Thank you.” You kiss him once more before pushing yourself to your feet and heading for the kitchen to get started on dinner.

---

To say things are awkward would be an understatement. Neither you nor Sam know what to say for a few days. You’re trying to decide how best to deal with the possibility that you might never have a baby of your own. At the same time, you know Sam is still looking for other solutions. He’s just doing it when you’re not around to see, in the hopes that you’ll come to him when you’re ready for other options. He’ll be prepared if you do. Unfortunately for him, you’re determined not to. Magic is not a solution you’re comfortable with, never will be, and it’s the only one left.

In the meanwhile, Dean’s just dancing around in the middle, even more at a loss for how to help the situation.

“Oh-kay,” he proclaims loudly on the third morning, while you and Sam are making breakfast and avoiding more than the most basic conversation the same way you have every morning. “You two.” He points at you and Sam.

You arch one brow at him in confusion. “Yes?”

“Come here.”

He gestures to the two seats across the table from him. You exchange a quick look with Sam, who just shrugs. You both take the indicated seats.

Dean fixes you with an intense glare, eyes darting between the two of you. Sam shifts uncomfortably.

“Okay,” Dean says. “I don’t know what’s going on and it’s not really any of my business. I’m here to listen if you need it but what I need is the two of you to get your shit together and have a conversation. Do you think you can do that?”

Sam is staring down at his lap and doesn’t respond. You’re not really sure what to say, either.

Dean crosses his arms with a sigh. “Do you need me to mediate or something?”

Fuck no. You’re not dragging your brother-in-law into this shit. “No, we - we’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we’ll…” you shoot a reluctant glance at Sam. “We’ll sort it out.”

You don’t really want to have this conversation right now but thanks to Dean, you’re not really going to have a choice.

“Right.” Dean slaps his hands, open-palmed, on the tabletop. “Let me know how it goes.”

He gets up then, taking his half-eaten cereal bowl with him, and suddenly it’s just you and Sam, sitting awkwardly side-by-side and trying to decide what to say.

“Y/N,” he starts.

Nope. You can’t do this.

You’re on your feet before you think too hard about it, headed for the counter to continue making breakfast. You forgot to turn the stove off when Dean decided to have his little intervention and the pan is ready for eggs, butter sizzling. You pour the scrambled egg mixture in and dig a spatula from the drawer to stir with.

Behind you, you hear the shuffle of Sam standing. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you!”

You don’t turn to look at him, keeping your attention on the eggs in front of you. “And I’m trying to subtly avoid it!”

Sam is still for a minute, breathing slowly in a way that tells you he’s really frustrated but doesn’t want to fuck this up. He’s surprisingly well-adjusted, sometimes, especially considering his upbringing. Winchester men are not known for their ability to talk about their feelings.

You hear his footsteps as he crosses the room and then his solid warmth is pressed against your back, his hands gliding up your forearms. A shiver runs through you at the contact. It’s the most intimate you’ve been in days. “Y/N,” he says softly. “We have to talk about this at some point.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to.”

Silence falls between you as you finish cooking the scrambled eggs and scrape them onto a plate. You’re not feeling very hungry anymore but skipping breakfast is never a good idea. When you try to step out of Sam’s hold, though, he doesn’t let go.

“Sam-”

“Y/N, please. Just listen to me?”

You frown down at your steaming eggs but don’t move again or protest.

Sam draws a deep breath and his arms curl around your waist. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now. You’re hurting and I’ll never understand how much, but you’re not alone in this. I’m here and I want this just as much as you do.”

“We’ve tried everything,” you mutter. “We need to just let it go. We can keep trying but I think… I think we need to stop getting our hopes up.”

“But here’s the thing. I want to get your hopes up. I know you told me to leave it but I did some digging.”

“I’m not using magic,” you interject and he shakes his head, ducking down to press his face into the curve of your shoulder. “I won’t go that route. It always ends badly and someone pays the price.”

“Not magic,” he says. “I promise. Just good old science. I found a doctor that specializes in this stuff and has a side practice catering to hunters.”

Your brain grinds to a screeching halt, struggling to process what he’s just told you. It seems impossible. Finding doctors that accept hunter patients is already so rare and most of them work out of back rooms, providing sketchy services only the most desperate will pay for. “... what?”

“She’s down in Arizona, so it’s a bit of a drive, but if you want to give this a real shot…?”

He sounds so hopeful, so eager.

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“It’ll work.” He’s so sure of this and he hasn’t even met the doctor yet.

“Sam.” You turn to face him at last. “I don’t think I’ve got much hope left.”

“That’s okay.” He brings both hands up to cradle your face and his sincerity causes tears to blur your vision. You swallow down the sudden swell of emotion. “I think I’ve got enough hope left for the both of us.”

That’s too much. A sob breaks free before you can stop it and you’re being bundled into Sam’s embrace, your face buried in the soft blue flannel he’s wearing. He holds you close and makes soothing sounds until you’re all cried out. He doesn’t let go even when your shoulders stop shaking.

“We can do this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Together, right? For better, for worse, all that stuff?”

You manage a little nod, finally lifting your head to meet his gaze. “Yeah. All that stuff.”

Sam chuckles and kisses you gently. “Good. We can sit down later and set up an appointment with this doctor. Sound like a plan?”

“Yeah.” It’s a good plan.

“All right. Would you like toast with your eggs?”

“Toast would be perfect.”

Sam kisses you again and steps away to get to work on said toast. You stand there a moment longer, still processing everything that’s happened in the last ten minutes.

You could have a baby.

Dean chooses that moment to return, carefully poking his head around the doorframe. “All good in here?”

“All good,” Sam says. “Asshole.”

“Hey, I just wanna be able to eat breakfast in peace. My methods work!”

You flip Dean the bird but he just laughs. Zero remorse. What a dick. His methods did work, though. You’ll give him that much.

---

Doctor Kimberly is a dark-haired, bright-eyed woman with a smile that lights up her whole face and a laugh you could hear from the waiting room. She greets you with a firm handshake.

“Sam Winchester,” she says cheerfully. “Never thought I’d see you in my office. Come in, come in, sit down and tell me what’s been going on.”

She listens patiently as you detail your pregnancy struggles up to this point, nodding and never once criticizing your choices even though you’re sure you must have made some bad ones at some point along the way.

“All right,” she says when you’re done. “First off, let me tell you - you’re far from the first couple to struggle with this and you won’t be the last, either. There are lots of options to look at going forward. To decide where to start, though, we need to run a lot of tests. Are you up for that?”

“We’re up for anything,” you say, with more conviction than you’re feeling at the moment but just being here is going a long way towards getting you on board with this plan. “Where do we start?”

—

Like this fic? Support me longterm on Patreon HERE or make a one-time donation on Ko-Fi HERE.

—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @manawhaat @books-and-icecream @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @emoryhemsworth @imsuperawkward

#my writing #supernatural #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #sam x reader #supernatural fic #spn fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester/reader

51 notes · View notes

mlobsters · 7 months

Text

supernatural s10e19 the werther project (w. robert berens)

tw suicide (much later in the ep)

so as i watch the tail end of e18 again, i didn't have the energy to mention yesterday but we're just taking it as fact that the Mark is a curse? because rowena told crowley that, who in turn told dean? when we know that rowena is tricksy and aware of crowley's apparent weakness for dean, and that she's a witch that surely would also like to get ownership of the biggest baddest grimoire in town

maybe we should stop and think for a minute, i know deteriorating-brother makes all higher brain functions come to a screeching halt but hang on a tick

is this another hunter origin story situation? was that the men of letters logo thing, must be. i had to go and mention my wondering about stuff smoking in and out, now we've got some yellow smoke business

laughing at this goofy phone text interface screen. dean going alone to kill a vampire nest seems unwise on many levels. feeding the marky mark bloodlust, being dangerous for one person, etc

had to use that as the title image, sam's "you couldn't have waited??"

LOL amazing. no notes

DEAN But I did. It’s done. Come on, man. It’s the only way I can take the edge off. I’m sorry. I don’t always like to wait around for you, especially with you looking at me like that all the time. SAM Look at you like what? DEAN Like that. Like I’m some sort of a-a-a diseased killer puppy

if it walks like a duck.....

DEAN You know what, man? I’m sweaty and I’m covered in vamp juice. Can we just talk about this later? I’d like to get back to the bunker, get my buzz on, and, uh, you know, pass out watching “Speed 2 – Cruise Control.” We cool?

i like how dean smacks him in the chest so hard (for no reason) that sam grunts and winces. WE'RE COOL, DEAN, YOU'RE CLEARLY HAVIN A NORMAL ONE

(nevermind me not telling you about cas and metatron, or not destroying the book, or working with rowena to decrypt the book, or......)

maybe smack him again, dean. harder

DEAN WE HAVE TALKED ABOUT THIS. at least get out of your jeans and get under the covers. like, you showered and changed into more jeans with the plan to fall asleep watching a movie? not okay, my dude. you wore sweats in the last episode, i know you have them!

feelin guilty enough to say something yet, sam???? (course not, go sneak off to do sneaky research with your cute sidebangs)

eyes glazing over at olden times men of letters story, as ever

this bad boy visionary with his killer box reminds me of the dude that was collecting shit that had the.... first blade? whoever the fuck that was. was it a different dude? ugh. lol. same dude.

HEY that's the episode with the other microsoft surface product placement that i was fucking looking for the other night

genuinely got a little scared for sam there for a second. that very relatable feeling of getting caught doing something (even if it wasn't wrong what you were doing) with someone who is unpredictable and maybe violent; which i unfortunately also have firsthand experience with. they played that kind of sinister music, dean's acting more demonic, etc.

DEAN Well it looks like I, uh, I’m here to save your sack. Look, you were right, okay? I shouldn’t have gone off solo like I did. It was stupid. SAM And? DEAN And selfish. It was a douche move. If you’re doing this case by yourself to teach me a lesson, you don’t have to, okay?

don't like that kind of music fakeout but am appreciating they're having him be very not-demonic straight away to reassure my frazzled nerves

SAM We’re Men of Letters. It’s our legacy.

snorted. so cheesy and i don't think dean or i give two shits for that excuse. but also! very bad sam for continuing to lie. *fetching the squirt bottle*

this lady's voice sounds familiar

OH MY GOD. haha she was in the episode of star trek the next generation where they're on this planet where everyone is all half naked and dtf and happy and then wesley crashes into a garden or whatever playing future-space-football or something and it's a transgression punishable by death!!!

LOLOL the "aliens" outfits are I C O N I C and she's one of them! also iconic wig

star trek: the next generation s1e7 justice - brenda bakke as rivan

SUZIE Uh, tall, white fella. DEAN Uh, huh. SUZIE Pretty hair.

i think the hair teasing is usually overblown because it's like oo hair that's longer than 4in, it's girly! but this haircut and styling in the back is very feminine bob and it does not mesh with how it looks in the front or his general vibe

no idea what's going on. but if they're hallucinating their extra bad feelings, dean's are purgatory? not say, 40 years in hell? -_- wanted to bring back a purgatory actor and not a hell one? :p have to create something for hell and we can just dick with the coloring in the woods and be in purgatory? it is very pretty though and i like this shot, it's pretty creative

SUZIE Lot of good “sorry” does me. Look at me. Look….at….me. [She points to her corpse.] There she is. The first casualty of your misguided mission. But what’s another human life to you? Anything’s worth it, as long as you two make it out alive. And how’s that search going? Any closer to a cure? SAM This isn’t real. You’re not real. SUZIE You think Dean’s the wild card, the loose cannon. But don’t you see? Making deals with witches, opening Pandora’s box down there? You’re the reckless one. You’ll do anything to keep clinging to that doomed brother of yours. How many more will die, Sammy?

this should hurt. it's very cutting, his brain yelling at him through this hallucination. but there's just too much shit happening and you need more of a setup than this, in my opinion, to get those feelings to really land

dang benny, lookin good! i like the hair and swagger

so tiny and her wiggly dance, could just stick her in your pocket

twist her arm

okay see. these have the chance of landing and cutting deep. we have a connection to benny, we know dean and benny's connection is strong (within the bounds of a not-sam relationship). we can hear his deep down fears through benny's voice and get caught in them just like dean might

BENNY “Need” and “Want” are just two different things, ain’t they? It’s all a figment, right? You, me, left right. But no matter which way you turn, you keep ending up here. You gotta wonder—why this figment? Why this place?

(why me?)

DEAN What are you saying? BENNY Nothing you don’t already know. This is where you wanna be – you’re happy place. And you don’t really wanna leave.

with your sam-replacement

SAM The blood of our own. Men of Letters blood. Legacy blood. My blood.

snort #2

damnit. this episode should have come with a big fucking suicide warning placard at the beginning. i have a close personal loss to suicide and dean's self destructive bordering suicidal history is always hard but this straight up not only discussing his desire to have sam and cas kill him but leading him to the conclusion that it would truly be better to kill himself, and knowing this is exactly the kind of thing he would believe is way too much for me and i'm gonna skim the rest and end this here.

editing, for my own reference, lines at the end.

DEAN That says something, doesn’t it? Werther splits us up in there. Within an hour, we’re both on the brink of death. Sorry about yesterday, going rogue on you like that. SAM You know what, Dean? Don’t apologize. I… I think that makes us even. DEAN The universe is trying to tell us something we both should already know. We’re stronger together than apart.

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 10x19 #robert berens #hiky #spnhiky #st: tng #brenda bakke

5 notes · View notes

katymacsupernatural · 3 years

Text

The Depth of EbonyPart 10

Dean Winchester/Reader

Story Summary: A hell hound is needed to fulfill a spell. A hellhound is captured by TFW. But it turns to be more than they bargained for. Y/N becomes more than they bargained for.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

Your story. He wanted to hear your story. A story so forgotten in time. Ever since you had become that horrid beast. Your family, your friends, all long gone from this world. For years, you had been alone, tormented, and teased. Hurt and broken time and time again by Alistair and the other Hell Hounds. How could you look Dean in the eye and tell him all of that?

“Well, at least start out with the basics.” He insisted, his green eyes searching your face for answers. “How old are you? When were you born?”

“Well, if you count how old I was before I turned into a Hell Hound, I’m 22. But that was in the year 1920.”

“1920!” He exclaimed. “That makes you over...well, wow,” he finished lamely. “You’ve spent that long as a Hell Hound. That’s horrible.”

“It really was,” You agreed, shivering as some of the worst memories flashed through your mind. Reaching for your glass of orange juice you took a sip, letting it clear the hoarseness from your throat.

Dean bit off a huge bite of bacon, munching loudly on it as he thought about it. “Damn, I’m sorry. But how the hell did you turn into one of those creatures.”

“A jealous woman. She was a witch. A very powerful one I’ve come to find out. Her name was Adelia. Absolutely beautiful with hair as black as a crow, wavy down to her hips. Her skin was alabaster, her lips rosy red. I know now that it’s all because of witchcraft, but she could have had any man she wanted. But it turned out we both wanted the same man.”

Sam came into the kitchen then, sweat dripping down onto his workout clothes. Heading for the sink, he poured a glass of water before turning his attention to you. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Y/N’s just telling me about her life,” Dean explained as he stood up to clear off the table. “Care to listen in?”

“If she doesn’t mind.” Glancing at you, he waited for your nod of approval before sitting down beside his brother.

“As I was saying, Adelia was a horrible person. Flirting with any man she could. Taking them from other women was her favorite thing to do. Seduce them, and then leave. We were both stage dancers during the 20’s. There was this man, Alex, who came into our club every night. Rich, cultured, extremely handsome. She immediately set her sight on him, but he wasn’t interested. He began courting me. Sending me flowers, taking me out on extravagant dinners. He was charming, and kind, and I could have seen myself settling down with him. And it infuriated Adelia.”

Taking another sip, you continued your story. “Then one night I thought he was going to propose. He had promised to come by the club, with promises of taking me out afterwards. I couldn’t help but gush about it, excited beyond belief. But when Adelia heard, she became livid. Yelling, throwing things. Everyone was scared of her. Then she came to me after the show, with a little leather satchel in her hand.”

The brother’s shared a knowing glance. “I take it you’ve seen one of those before.”

Dean scowled, his hand tightening on his coffee cup. “Plenty of times. I hate witches.”

You frowned, confused slightly. “But you had Rowena here. She’s a witch.”

“She’s different,” Sam insisted. “Back to your story.”

Sighing, you could remember so much about that fateful night. The feeling of the buttery soft leather in your hand. Her perfume that overwhelmed you with lilies and sandalwood. The crispness of the air as you stood outside, waiting for Alex to arrive. But before he could, the moon rose in the sky and everything started to change. I went through the worst pain I had ever felt. My skin ripped and shredded as it turned into one of the deadliest and disgusting creatures ever created. I ran away after that, knowing that no one could help me. I came upon a man, you know him as Alistair. He promised to help, and well...we both know that wasn’t the truth.’ You ended your story, sighing sadly.

“Damn,” Dean whispered. “Sam, you should call Rowena, see if she knows anything about this Adelia.”

“Why? Y/N’s human again.”

Dean smacked his brother’s shoulder. “Because we need to know everything we can. If she’s still alive and she finds out about Y/N? We could have even more trouble on our hands.”

“I don’t want to bring you trouble,” you stared at Dean sadly, knowing that you didn’t want to leave him, but would gladly if it meant keeping him safe. “I can go.”

“Hell no!” Dean’s answer was quick. “You heading out on your own? You need to stay here, with us, where it’s safe.”

“Is that the only reason?” Sam remarked quietly before standing up. “Y/N, I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. But please know you are welcome to stay with us as long as you’d like.”

With those words, Sam let you alone with Dean, who was looking at you with an expression you weren’t sure you understood. “Now what?” You asked, trying not to sound as awkward as you felt.

“Now that you’re human again, why don’t we do something fun? Sam will do his usual research, leaving us some free time. What is something you’ve wanted to do, but couldn’t?”

“A movie theater,” you answered immediately. “I’ve wanted to go to a movie, and eat popcorn.”

Dean stood up. “Then it’s a date. You pick the movie, I’ll buy the popcorn. As long as we can get Hot Tamales too.”

“Hot tamales?” You repeated, wondering what on Earth they could be.

Read Part 11

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @bi-danvers0 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @screechingartisancashbailiff @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666 @beabutterfly987

The Depth of Ebony Tags: @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @voltage-my2dlove @idksupernatural @deanfanatic @kalesrebellion @doctorlilo @brilovesdeanwinchester @parinarain @aiofheavenandhell

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algudaodoce03 @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @cpag7 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @deanwanddamons @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @tatted-trina6 @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heartislubbingdubbing @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99blog @imsuperawkward @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @justsomedreaming @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @valsworldofcreativity @vvinch3st3r @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

#the depth of ebony #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #reader insert #dean x y/n

88 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years

Text

Dean Winchester One Shots

Happy Birthday Dean pt. 1

It’s Dean’s birthday, and you realize something about yourself you never knew before… Until now…

30 Minutes til Midnight (Happy Birthday Dean pt. 2!)

Sequel ot Happy Birthday Dean, will you finally tell him how you feel?

Middle of the road

Can you keep pretending your just friends, or will it all come out in the middle of the road.

Lonely as the grave

Dean struggles with his reality visiting the graveyard in his hometown of Lawrance, Kansas

The Fool

The reader comfronts Lisa, based on the song The Fool by Leanne Walmack

The Meeting

A secret releationship getts heated during a meet up

Waiting…

Waiting on your hero hunter to come home can be one of the harderst things you ever do.

Finally Yours

Alpha!Dean is in Rut, and only one Omega can help him through it!

Home

Six years ago Christmas Eve Dean made the biggest mistake of his life under influence of the Mark of Cane.

It Was Fifteen Years Ago Today

Haunted by the past tramas even Dean needs a little comfort sometimes.

I Did It Because I Love You

Dean’s been a complete and total asshole, what happenes when the reader finally has all she can take.

Happy Valenties Day Sweetheart

Dean shows the reader a little bit of his softer side….

I Kinda Like The Disease…

Your search for your demon boyfriend takes you to New Orleans during mardi grag…

Challenge Accepted..

Requested: ok so here is a request(idk if you do these)(also it’s smut) so dean talks about how good he is in the bedroom and the reader says something along the lines like “i bet you can’t make me come” Dean challenges this. In the bedroom and you know they doing the dirty or whatever. Dean edges her and edges her and just when the reader had enough of the teasing Dean finally takes her over her edge and the reader is left with the most hot shaking orgasm ever. I hope this makes sense! ❤️ur stories!!

Your Perfect

Request: the reader is always willing to go down on Dean but when Dean goes to return the favor the reader stops him and always finds an excuse. No one has ever offered to go down on her before so she’s insecure about it and doesn’t want to look weird in from of dean. i Hope this makes sense!

Curves

Requested: Can I request a Dean Winchester x plus size reader, where she really shy and dorky but believes that she really bad at sex because she is bigger? And dean shows her that she not 😊💕 I hope this make sense haha! I know this sound awkward turtle 🐢

You Deserve Better Than Me

Requested: Dean winchester x pregnant Reader. Dean feels the reader deserves better than what he can give her in his life, what will he do when he finds out that she’s expecting his baby?

Quarantine

Summery: Everyone is stuck in quarantine right now everywhere, and your stuck alone with Dean, who really needs to blow off steam… Oh what has your big mouth gotten you into now…

My Best Friend

Request: hiii i have dean x reader request! the reader and dean are friends with benefits but recently she’s just been down in the dumps and just wants some platonic affection and not sex. as the writer you can do what u want but could you add Dean playing with the readers hair? i have a weakness for it lol thanks!

Just A Dream…

Part 1

Part 2

Winchesters Fantasies 1000 follower Challenge…

Daddy’s Home

Request: Hey I know this is odd, but I really enjoy your writing and I was wondering if you could possibly do a little smutty Dean thing? Maybe using the name Lyn, and really anything is on the table, I mean, it’s Dean Winchester. (Or if you want, some daddy kink and maybe just rough stuff :o) Thank you dear!! You don’t have to if ya don’t want to, no pressure 💕💕

Like Pulling Teeth

Request: Okay, so I was just watching few recent spn episode and saw Garth episode. Which gave me an curious idea, can you write dentist reader x dean? They’re in a relationship, one day when dean eats something, it pains and reader has to look into it? and then reader says wisdom tooth extraction? Also the fear of dentist which dean already has (shown in the episode, I found it very funny) I know it’s a weird request but I also think it would be very funny🙈

Little Details…

Request: Could I maybe request a Chubby!Reader x Dean story? She’s super sweet and kind of laid back, just going along with the boys as a research partner, but she’s also super artsy and loves to draw Dean while she researches. Maybe some sweet and soft smut, oh! And maybe he plays with her hair? :) Thanks dear!! 🌻💛

Age Is Just A Number…

Request Hello :) How do feel about an age difference, post sex one-shot? Alternate universe (no hunting), consensual, not underage but quite a big age difference (like at least 10years) where Dean is like freaking out because he’s Dean and doesn’t want to destroy the girl’s life?

Mine…

Request: Could you do a one shot where the reader lives with Sam and dean they are best friends. The reader and dean have a secret relationship and dean gets jealous of the reader and Sam hanging out all day. So dean shows the reader who she belongs too in the bedroom.

Right In Front Of You…

Request: Dean x Reader. Reader is hunting with Sam and Dean, and she is constantly getting annoyed at every single thing that Dean does. And she always acts very bad with Dean with this making dean think that she hates him. And that makes mr very sad because he has feelings for her but when Dean save her sacrificing himself from a hunting gone wrong. She stars to develop feelings for him.

Jealous Of My Demons...

Requested: Dean get’s jealous of the reader’s former boyfriend Brady, who is now posses by a demon and working as a stable boy for the horseman pestilence. Who will they work this out?

Princess...

Request: Thank you for answering my question love!💕 can I request a Dean x plus size reader where she is super shy and it drives dean crazy? Fluff, smut? I’m sorry to bother you hahah and that this sounds awkward turtle 🐢 🖤😻

My Girl...

Requested: Hola! request for dean x reader: the readers current boyfriend always puts her down and one day threatens to breakup with her if she doesn’t lose weight, even though she’s not even plus sized or anything. She constantly pushes her body to the limit to lose the weight and dean notices. it ends all fluffy and protective!dean comes out and has a “talk” with the boyfriend. side note for anyone reader this: YOUR BODY IS BEAUTIFUL MAMA 💗🥺

Your Dean...

Request: Heyy! I'm sorry to be a bother. I was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader is prone to severe panic attacks and her husband Dean is the only one who knows how to calm her down? She gets a really bad attack but Dean for some reason ain't there, and no one is able to help her but eventually he comes back and takes care of her. Sorry if this is a lot haha.

Safe. Warm. His...

Request: Are you taking requests? If so would you possibly write a one shot with Dean where the reader is in little space and just wants to cuddle and nuzzle her head in his neck and give him lots of little kisses and play with his hands? It’s just superrrr fluffy 🥺🥺🖤

One Hell Of A Thank You...

Request: Can I request a Dean Winchester x plus size reader, where the reader is really quirky and dorky and goes on a date but turns out her date is a vampire and kidnapped her and dean saves her and falls in love with her, maybe some angst, fluff and smut 💕

Voices..

Request: Can I request? Dean x reader were she has an Eating Disorder and she’s recovering but today was an off day for her and starts to go back to her old habits and Dean notices and helps her through it.

His Girl...

Request: May I request a Dean Winchester x plus size reader where the reader is very shy and she at a bar and some dirt bags are picking on her about her shortness and weight and dean stands up for her? Some smut and fluff ?? Also want to say you are a bop of a writer my love! ✨💕🥰❤️

Happily Ever After...

Request: Hey beautiful! May I request a Dean Winchester x plus size reader where the reader does all the research for the boys and she is very shy,she a huge Disney fan, one day demons get in the bunker and make fun of her and dean stand up for her and confess his love for her (smut)? And after they cuddle and watch lady and tramp? Fluff and smut you are a gem my dear! 💕

His New Toy...

Request: Hai can I request dean x reader smut with breast bondage and nipple play?? plot (if there is any) is up to you ;)

His Heaven...

Request: Heyy I love your ABO fics and I have a request for you. You can always say no to this if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll completely understand and I’m very sorry. Can you do one with Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader. Where the reader is on a supply run and she gets assaulted and tortured by a monster and when she gets back to the bunker somehow, she only allows her Alpha anywhere near her and refuses help from anyone else. Dean takes care of her and helps her heal.

Something Worth Fighting For

Request: Hi love! Your writing is amazing and I was wondering if you could do a Dean x depressed!reader? Like dean finds the reader about to jump off the roof of the bunker after reading the note she left him and sam saying goodbye. He had never suspected anything cause she hid it so well. Dean saves her and tells her his feelings for her? You can also add any details you want or anything like that! There is no rush! Thank you!

Unlikely Places

Trigger Warning: Non-Con

Request: Hi! I love your work! Can you do a ABO? One where the reader is Beta, and Dean Alpha, and she’s his true mate/soulmate, but they don’t know it, and he gets possessive and goes into almost a feral rut where he tries to claim, and it almost kills her but Sam and Rowena save her and give Dean his Omega back? You come up with the plot because you’re amazing at that!! Please! I’d be forever in your debt!

I Hurt Too

Request: hi there! I have seen loads of fics and one shots where Dean is sleeping around/having a one night stand and the reader gets jealous and upset, but I was wondering if I could request one with the other way around? or maybe one where they sleep around equally? as smutty, fluffy, or angst as you want!!

What’s Left Of Me

Summary: Who know one little woman could have turned his whole world upside down? He had done so good alone for so long. Then here you come along, and ruin everything

Elf

Summary: Maybe being stuck at home alone with Dean for Christmas isn’t so bad after all.

Save Me

Summary: It’s not always easy being the hero, especially when no one is ever there to save you.

Saving Grace

Summary: Some things are worth fighting for, even when they think they’re not. You can either roll over and die, or you can pick yourself up off the ground and go get what you want. That’s the place Y/N now finds herself in.

Living With Regret

Summary: Death can be hard to deal with in any aspect, but when you’re in the life, it's something you deal with all to often, and carry with you until it's your turn to burn.

Happy Halloween

Summary: It’s Daddy’s favorite holiday. So what’s a good girl gonna do, but let him blow off some steam after a successful hunt?

I’ll Wait For You

Summary: Sometimes when we’re angry, hurt, or scared we say things wrong. Say things that hurt the ones we love. When Dean takes things a step to far can you find it in your heart to forgive him?

An Alpha And His Omega

Summary: Sometimes Alpha’s aren’t the assholes, sometimes words Omegas say things that can hurt too.

No, Screw You Sweetheart

Summary: You HATE Dean Winchester, I mean you really, REALLY hate Dean Winchester.

30 Minutes In Heaven

Summary: Your life, like many hunters before you, was cut short. You had no idea at the time the Fates that were at play in the universe were really those of dick angles and egotistical assholes with massive god complexes. And you also had no idea that they were really the reason you lost your life, and you had no idea why… Until around 30 minutes after you made it to Heaven.

The Devil And I

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

Summary: What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right? You survived after you thought your mate had died, but how will you survive finding out he's alive, only different.

Don’t Let It Show...

Summary: She’s had enough of him, just like every other woman always seems to, and normally, he doesn’t care, but this time...this time it hurts.

Don’t Fear The Reaper

Summary: They took him from her, her knit, her king, her Dean, “cured” him, and now she’s going to get him back, she’s going to set him free.

Scars And All

Summary: You and Dean have a strange, mutual relationship, but that’s all it is, physical. Until an almost bar fight brings some things to light that you thought you’d never hear.

I Almost Lost You

Summary: Sometimes, monsters aren't always monsters...sometimes they're people.

Touch Starved

Summary: Sometimes when the hunt is hard, and his mind is loud, Dean just wants to be close to someone he loves, but is to scared to say it out loud. Thankfully, she knows him better than he knows himself.

I Wanna Be Your Everything

Summary: After a huge fight, and a week away from Dean, he’s finally decided it was okay to have the ending he’d always wanted.

One More Sunset

Summary: Dean just wants the pain to go away...

#jawritter masterlist #Dean winchester one shots #jawritter

973 notes · View notes

440mxs-wife · 4 years

Text

Tea of Love

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Other Characters: Sam, Castiel, Crowley, Rowena

Imagine: You’re hunting a witch with Sam and Dean, only to fall victim to her curse.

A/N: This is my contribution to the SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge offered by @supernatural-jackles. I signed up to contribute on a monthly basis, but it looks like I missed the deadline. Here it is all the same. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean parked the Impala a good distance away from the two-story farmhouse. Far enough away to be hidden from sight, but still within running distance for a quick getaway if needed.

You had received word that a witch was causing trouble, and had tracked her to the town of Smithville, Arkansas. The plan was to sneak in to the house, with you going in through the back entrance, while Sam and Dean went in through the front door.

"All right, weapons check," Dean whispered. Each of you ejected the clip from your handguns, yours from your .380, to make sure it was full of witch-killing bullets. Satisfied, you re-inserted the clip and pulled back on the hammer so that a round was in the chamber. After a successful weapons check, Sam went up the steps and started picking the lock on the front door.

"Ready?" you asked as you turned to head for the back door.

Dean nodded. "Hey? Be careful," he remarked softly.

You sent him a quick smile. "Always, Dean. See you inside," you replied. You and Sam be careful too, Dean, you said in silent prayer.

Quickly and quietly, you made your way to the back door. The wooden steps to the porch looked like they had seen too many blistering summers and frostbitten winters to still be stable. You carefully climbed the steps, sticking to the edges where the wood appeared to be less worn.

You gingerly tested the doorknob, only to find that it turned easily in your hand. An unlocked door could mean one of two things: a careless witch or you had just walked into her trap. While you were hoping for the first option, with your luck, you had a feeling it was probably door #2. You tiptoed through the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall to the bedrooms. First bedroom on the right was clear, second one across the hall was also clear.

As you carefully approached the last bedroom, you realized that you hadn't seen Sam or Dean yet. You stopped and strained your ears for any confirmation that they had even entered the house yet. Just as you were about to resume your progress towards the bedroom door, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You whipped around, only to be confronted by the mossy green orbs of one Dean Winchester.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you took a moment for it to return to normal before continuing your trek down the hall. "What is wrong with you?" you hissed. "You shouldn't just sneak up on me like that!"

"Well, excuse me," he shot back. "First of all, I didn't expect for you to have gotten this far without running into the witch. And 'B', isn't it better to go in knowing you have backup than only hoping you do?" he retorted.

You took a deep breath before answering. "You're right. Sorry Dean," you whispered. "Let's get this witch taken down so we can blow this popstand," you replied.

Dean nodded and motioned for you to continue down the hall. You turned the doorknob and slowly swung the door open. You entered the room first to assess the situation, while Dean stood just outside the door, ready to bust in if needed.

The witch had her back to you as she sprinkled something into a bowl. All of a sudden she raised her arms above her head as if in victory and turned to face the doorway. "I was wondering when you hunters were going to show up. I've been expecting you," she smirked.

Before you could raise your weapon, she picked up the bowl and threw its contents at you. The blue powder from the bowl doused you almost completely from head to toe. As she chanted some words in Latin, the powder started to glow and burn a bit wherever it touched bare skin. You cried out in pain, at which time Dean entered the room and fired his weapon. The witch fell to the floor, dead from the witch-killing bullet he fired.

"Dean," you pleaded softly as you started to feel faint.

"Whoa, hold on there. Stay with me, sweetheart," Dean said as he rushed to catch you before you could hit the floor. He called out for Sam, who had finally caught up with you and Dean. Sam scooped you up in his arms and carried you out to the Impala.

Dean filled him in on what had happened between you and the witch. "I don't know what kind of spell she got hit with, so we're going to have to be ready for just about anything," Dean said grimly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You carefully opened your eyes enough to notice that you were back in your room, in your bed instead of the backseat of the Impala. You decided to sit up, only to be met with a splitting headache. A groan of pain escaped your lips as you eased back onto your pillow and draped your bandaged arm across your eyes.

There was a soft knock at your door, then you heard it creak open. "Hiya, sweetheart," Dean said softly. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Like I got hit by a truck. Twice," you grumbled.

Dean chuckled. "Here, I gotcha," he said as he handed you a couple of painkillers and a bottle of water. He helped you up to a sitting position, putting pillows between your back and the headboard.

"Thank you," you replied. "What the hell happened? The last thing I remember is that witch throwing a bowl of some kind of powder at me. Then I remember her chanting something, the powder burning into my skin, then you killed her," you finished.

"Well, that's about it, you collapsed after that and we brought you back here in the Impala," Dean explained. "Sam brought you in and put you on your bed," he remarked.

"How long was I out?" you asked.

"You've been out for about a day and a half, sweetheart," he remarked softly. "We called Rowena to see if she could tell what you may have been hit with, so we'd know how to counteract it. And, oh yeah, Crowley tagged along, just so you know," he grumbled.

"Oh. Fabulous," you deadpanned. "I'll bet he's just been a joy to be around," you snorted.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, he said he was bored in Hell, so he latched on to Mummy's magic bag to show up here," he grinned.

You reached over and took Dean's hand in yours. "Hey, in case I forgot to tell you, Dean....thank you for getting me out of there and taking care of me here," you remarked softly.

He shifted a little in his seat and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, sure, no problem. All in a day's work, you know," he said as he jumped up from the chair. "Um, I'm uh....gonna just....yeah. I'll check in on you later," Dean then bolted out of your room.

What the hell was that all about? you thought, as you replayed the conversation in your mind. When you got to the part where you took his hand, you mentally smacked yourself in the forehead. He was fine until then, you realized. After that it was awkward, because he doesn't want you to get the wrong idea. He's telling you that he doesn't think of you in 'that way'. You leaned your head back against the headboard and squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's been almost ten years since you came to live in the bunker. You met the Winchesters through a mutual friend, Sheriff Donna Hanscum, whom you've known since high school. She never knew you were a hunter until after Sam and Dean showed up at that spa she went to. You had caught wind of some strange things happening at that spa, so you went in with her, but undercover as a patient.

You and Sam clicked instantly, becoming best friends. You both nerded out about the same things, like books, sci-fi, and research. You liked the same kinds of movies and were more at home in a library than the bar.

You and Dean were a different story. At first, you didn't get along at all, because he thought you would be someone else he'd have to be responsible for. That is, until you stepped in front of the swipe of a werewolf's claws to save his life. Despite your condition, you still managed to fire off three silver bullets at its heart to kill it before collapsing from your injury. After that, Dean seemed to see you as a fellow hunter, rather than a civilian he had to constantly keep watch over.

Too bad he didn't also see you as a woman--full of passion, kindness and understanding, with eyes only for him. You watched as he showered his attention and affections on countless other women, just not on the one woman who truly knew and loved him. So, you handled your feelings by using the Winchester Method: you shoved them down out of the way and pretended that they didn't exist.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of hours later, you carefully got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. You picked up the teakettle, filled it with water and added several pinches of your special blend of tea. While you waited, you grabbed your favorite cup from the cabinet and took a seat at the table.

"Well hello, dear! Nice to see ye up and around, 'specially after what ye've been through, darlin'," a voice from behind you said. You turned to see it was Rowena, which brought a small smile to your face.

"Hello, Rowena," you replied. "Any luck figuring out what we're up against?" you asked.

"Not yet, dearie. Still workin' on it, but don't ye worry abou' it," Rowena assured you.

"I hope so," you murmured. "Would you like some tea?" you asked.

Rowena shook her head and smiled. At that moment, Sam, Dean and Castiel came into the kitchen and walked over to the table. Sam and Cas each squeezed your shoulder as they took their seats. "Hey, sweetheart, you must be feeling better," Dean remarked as he kissed the top of your head.

You smiled and nodded. The teakettle whistled that it was ready to serve, so you rose from the table. "You guys want some tea? I made some from my secret stash," you grinned.

The boys all nodded, so you got out three extra cups, along with the cream, sugar and honey. You poured cups of tea for everyone, then resumed your seat at the table. You added a bit of creamer and some sugar to your tea.

"So, what's in this 'special blend' of tea you made?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's got some dried orange zest in it, some cinnamon, black tea leaves, ground nutmeg. And a few other secret ingredients," you winked conspiratorially.

"Mmm, I think it's delicious," Cas remarked as he took another sip, with Sam nodding in agreement.

Dean watched as you absently stirred your tea, while the others talked among themselves. Your furrowed brow showed him you were still coming to terms with what had happened in the past few days.

It had not yet been determined what kind of curse you'd been hit with, and he knew you had to be worried. Your eyes glistened a bit with unshed tears which told him you might be more than a little scared of that unknown. You stood up from the table just as he was about to reach out for your hand to comfort you.

"I think I'll go take a shower. Might feel a bit more human if I do, after wearing the same clothes for the past few days. Excuse me," you murmured as you left the kitchen. Dean stared after you, wanting so badly to help you. To show you it was okay to be scared, and that he would do everything in his power to figure out how to reverse the spell.

At that moment, Crowley waltzed into the kitchen. "Hello, Mother, Feathers, Moose, Squirrel," he drawled. "Where's our little Mouse? Can't complete the clubhouse roll call unless she's here to sound off," he smirked.

"She left to go take a shower," Dean grumbled as he brushed past Crowley out of the kitchen.

Crowley noticed Dean's full cup of tea and took a drink. "This is wonderful, delicious, wherever did it come from?" he asked. Sam told him it was from your own homemade blend of tea and spices. Crowley shrugged and continued to drink the tea.

As the men continued to drink the tea, Rowena noticed a bit of a change in each one. Their thoughts seemed to become more focused towards you, and had also turned more amorous in nature. Before she could voice her observations, Sam left the table after downing the rest of his tea.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After your shower, you brought your favorite book and settled into a chair in the library. Once you had made yourself comfortable, Sam approached you and knelt beside your chair. He smiled up at you as he took your hand in his and brushed his lips across the back of it.

"Sam, what's going on?" you asked in bewilderment.

"N-nothing, I just wanted to spend some time with you, be around you. What book are you reading?" he asked.

You were a bit confused at the sudden focus of Sam's attention on you. But you pushed it aside for the moment and explained the plot of the book you were reading. He asked if he could read it aloud to you, which you politely declined. Then he broke out the best version of his puppy-dog eyes, and you were powerless to resist. You relented with a smile, and he suggested that you curl up with him on the couch to be more comfortable.

Moving from your chair to the couch, you made sure to bring your favorite blanket with you. Once you got all settled, you showed Sam where you left off in your book so he could start reading. The gentle lilt of Sam's voice as he read to you caused your eyelids to feel heavy until you could no longer keep them open.

Dean walked through the library just in time to see you curled up with Sam, and for Sam to press a kiss to your forehead. An uncomfortable feeling settled into his chest, but he had no idea why. He shook it off for the moment and headed for the garage to work on the Impala.

About an hour later, you awoke to find Sam's arms around you and his cheek pressed against your forehead. You tried to extract yourself, but Sam tightened his embrace a bit more. "Mmm, don't go Baby, stay here with me a little longer," he mumbled.

Baby? you wondered. Since when am I 'Baby' to anyone around here?!? your thoughts screamed.

You managed to wriggle yourself out of his arms and into a upright position. "Sam, wake up. Sam! Wake up!" you shook his arm to try and rouse him. Your efforts were unsuccessful, because he stayed asleep. Puzzled, you picked up your book and your blanket then returned to your room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you woke to find that Castiel had set the table for the two of you to have breakfast. "Good morning," he greeted you with a wide smile.

Not quite awake yet, you answered him with a yawn then a smile. "Good morning, Cas. What's going on here?" you asked, gesturing towards the table.

"I thought it would be nice to have breakfast made for you when you awakened, Honeybee," he stated.

'Honeybee'? What is going on with the men in this bunker lately?!? you thought. "Well, you certainly brought out one of my favorites, peanut butter and banana toast," you grinned.

You reached for two slices of bread from the wrapper. Cas took them from your hands before you could put them in the toaster. "Please, allow me," he said. He added the bread to be toasted and proudly pushed down on the lever.

When it was finished, the bread popped up, perfectly golden brown, with no burnt edges. Cas placed the toast on a plate and set it on the table. Just as he was about to pick up the knife to spread the peanut butter, you stopped him. "Cas, not that I don't appreciate it, but I don't mind fixing my own toast. You've done so much already, why don't you take a little break?" you suggested.

His face fell a bit, then all of a sudden lit up. "I just remembered that you like to drink milk with your peanut butter toast. Be back in just a moment," he grinned, tapping the end of your nose before heading to the fridge. Cas returned shortly with a small glass of cold milk. "Here you are, Honeybee," he remarked shyly.

"Thank you, Cas. Exactly what I needed. So, what are your plans today?" you asked.

"I'm glad you asked. I was going to see if you would like to go on a walk with me, maybe see some wildflowers? I know of a lovely field we could visit, if you are interested....?" he asked, his voice full of hope.

You were planning on doing some research to try and find something to counteract the curse. You also didn't want to be too far away from the bunker in case a cure was found. From the look on Castiel's face, though, you couldn't bear to disappoint him.

"That sounds lovely, Cas. We could leave in an hour, if you wish. That would give me time to finish my breakfast, take a shower and all that," you added.

"I shall endeavor to keep myself busy until you return, my sweet Honeybee," Cas said as he took hold of your hand and gently kissed the back. With a whoosh of his wings, he was gone.

As soon as he had gone out of sight, you slumped over the table, putting your head in your hands. Dean arrived in the kitchen shortly after hearing you let out a groan of frustration. "What's with you this morning?" he asked.

You returned to an upright position. "Good morning, Dean. Cas made me breakfast today, which was very sweet, and now he wants me to go with him to check out a field of wildflowers. I think there's something very strange going on around here. I wish I knew what it was," you grumbled.

"Why is Cas wanting to spend time with you and do things for you 'strange'? Do you not enjoy his company? I mean, if you don't want to go, just tell him. Don't string him along, Princess," Dean retorted.

You looked at Dean with a mixture of shock, anger and hurt on your face. "Like I said, something strange is going on around here. First Sam, then Cas, now you," you retorted as you bolted from your chair.

Dean closed his eyes and instantly felt remorse for what he had said, because he knew you weren't like that. You didn't play games with people's emotions, and when you loved someone, you did it with your whole heart. Unfortunately, doing so had led to your heart being broken by too many others along the way.

He understood about your independent nature, which was one of the things he admired about you. To have anyone do anything for you was sometimes hard for you to accept. You were so used to being the one who cared for or catered to others, not so much the other way around.

As he gave it more thought, he realized that neither Sam nor Cas had shown any romantic interest in you until recently. Dean began to wonder if maybe you had a point about strange things going on in the bunker. He promised himself that when you came back from your outing with Cas, that he would apologize.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You and Cas spent a lovely afternoon walking through a field of wildflowers. Cas told you about every species of flower and what each color meant. He found a spot underneath a willow tree, where he produced a picnic basket containing assorted fruits and cheeses. You showed him how to make flower crowns as someone had once shown you. Then you placed one on his head and took a picture.

Upon your return to the bunker, you searched for a vase to hold the wildflowers you and Cas had picked. As you arranged the flowers, Cas placed his hands on your shoulders, then began to run them up and down your arms. When you had finished with the flowers, Cas took one of your hands in his and led you into the library.

Cas punched some buttons on his phone. After appearing quite frustrated at times, he finally relaxed and music started playing from his phone. He pulled you into his arms and started dancing with you, a love-struck grin on his face.

At one point, Cas spun you out away from him, which is the exact moment that Dean walked into the library. He looked at you and Cas dancing with a raised eyebrow, which caused your face to grow warm. "C-Cas, th-thank you for a lovely afternoon," you stammered. "Sorry," you mumbled as you brushed past Dean and out of the room.

"Cas? Is there something going on between you two?" Dean asked.

A large grin spread across Cas' face as he sighed deeply before answering Dean's question. "I'm not sure, Dean. I've never felt the way I do except when I'm with her. I would be the luckiest man in all of Creation if she loved me," he answered dreamily. Then he seemed to snap back to reality. "I must go, I am needed elsewhere," Cas said, returning to what Dean considered "normal" for Cas.

Dean shook his head, even more confused as to what was going on. First, you were snuggled up with Sam, then dancing with Castiel. He decided to check in with Rowena to see if she knew anything more.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

While Dean was in the library trying to figure things out, you were sitting on the edge of your bed trying to do the same thing. A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. Your visitor was literally the last person you ever expected to see. Crowley had on an apron, covered in flour and bits of what looked like cake batter stuck to it.

"Good evening, Love," he bowed and took your hand in his. "I was wondering if you would consider, um, helping me with a small problem. You see, someone told me you were a fan of cheesecakes, and I ran into some difficulty trying to make you one. Might I request the honor of your assistance in the kitchen, so you can show me the proper....technique?" he suggested.

It took every ounce of self-control you had not to break out into laughter or tears. The absurd events of the last two days were leading you to believe the witch put an insanity curse on you. Quickly regaining your composure, you told Crowley that you would meet him in the kitchen in about 10 minutes. "Until then, my darling," he remarked softly, placing a lingering kiss on your cheek.

As soon as the door was closed, you sank down on the edge of the bed again. "This is too weird," you whispered to yourself. "Now Crowley wants to spend time with me?? This is some curse I've got on me. I think it's making me lose my mind," you mused.

When you opened your door, you heard a heated argument occurring in the kitchen between Sam, Cas and Crowley. You walked slowly to the kitchen, catching bits and pieces of the harsh words spoken between the men. Each one claimed to love you more than the other two, and promised to fight anyone who dared try and take you away. Insults were traded and fists were raised, ready to do battle.

You turned around and were headed back to your room when you ran smack into Dean. "Well, Princess, looks like you hit the jackpot in there," he snarled, his arms folded across his chest.

"I--" was all you could say.

"Congratulations, you've got every woman's fantasy going on in that kitchen. Three men fighting for her affections," he taunted.

"Not every woman, Dean. Not me," you choked out as you pushed away from him, tears streaming down your face.

Dammit! How did I end up doing and saying the exact opposite of what I wanted? Dean thought. I need to go talk to Rowena, see if she knows anything else about this curse, he decided. First things first, though, he was going to put a stop to what was happening in the kitchen.

"ENOUGH!" he thundered. Sam, Castiel and Crowley all turned to look at Dean. "Everyone retreat to a neutral corner until we can figure out what's going on," he ordered.

Dean turned down the hallway to Rowena's room. As he came around the corner, you briefly met his gaze as you passed him in the hallway, only to quickly drop it again. Dean reached out his hand for yours. "Wait," he pleaded.

You shook your head at him, fresh tear tracks evident on your cheeks. "No, Dean. I don't want to talk to you right now. I never meant for any of this to happen. I think it's best if I remove myself from the equation for the time being. At least until Rowena can figure out how to reverse the spell," you finished. With that, you closed and locked your bedroom door.

Dean's heart ached to hear the pain in your voice and to see your tear-stained face. He knocked on Rowena's door and entered her room when she granted him access. "What can I do fer ye, Dean?" she asked in her lilting accent.

He mentioned how he had just left the kitchen, where Sam, Cas and her beloved son were fighting over you. "They've all been paying extra attention to her, being all romantic and stuff. What's weird, is that they've never even shown any kind of interest in her before," Dean explained.

"Sam's reading with her and snuggling on the couch, Cas is taking her out for a picnic and to pick wildflowers." He turned to Rowena, pointed his finger at her and narrowed his eyes. "Your son is wearing an apron, asking her to teach him how to bake a damn cheesecake," he huffed. "I swear, it's as if that witch cast a--" he broke off.

"A love spell?" Rowena asked. "Tha's exactly what it was," she confirmed.

"Can you reverse it?" Dean asked.

"I can, but.....," she started.

"But what?" Dean asked.

"It's no' real love that Samuel, Castiel and Fergus have for her. When they realize that fact, it's bound to be a bit awkward at first. They may act a little distant towards her, and she will think she’s done something wrong to make them pull away. She'll believe that the friendship she has with each of them has been ruined, that it's over. It could break her kind and generous heart," Rowena explained.

Dean dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew Rowena was right, and that you would probably isolate yourself in an attempt to maintain order in the bunker.

"Of course, once the right man declares his feelings for the wee lassie, her heart will mend. In time, anyway. Then Samuel, Castiel and Fergus won't feel like they have to stay away from her," she continued.

Dean noticed how she had suddenly focused her attention on him and scoffed. "Whoa, do you mean me? That I should declare my feelings for her? I'm not--"

"Aren't ye?" Rowena asked softly. "Search your heart, Dean. Ye've been in love with her for a while now, haven't ye? Seeing her together with another man, let alone three? Doing the type of romantic things that ye've thought abou' doin' with her? I'd say it's enough to make any normal man just a wee bit jealous. I can only imagine what it's doin' to ye," she remarked.

"Pfft," was the best response he could muster for the moment. "Start working on that spell reversal. I need to head into town for some supplies," Dean replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, Rowena announced that she had prepared the antidote for the witch's love spell. Turns out, it was your tea that had triggered the exaggerated feelings of love. You touched the tea blend with your fingers to add it to the water in the teakettle. Then, the effects of the spell were transferred to whomever drank the tea.

Each man drank the concoction and waited for its effects to kick in, which didn't take long once the antidote was consumed. As predicted, there were profuse apologies to you from all three men. They all assured you that though they didn't think of you romantically, they still loved you in their own way. You smiled and assured them that you were fine, no harm done, that you knew that the right someone was still out there.

But behind your closed bedroom door, it was a different story. At night, you laid awake, staring at the ceiling. You understood that their attention to you was only because of the spell.

You remembered how Sam, Castiel and Crowley all looked at you. You tried not to think about how it would feel to have Dean look at you just once the way they did. Still, you knew that the chances of Dean feeling that way about you for real were slim to none. Especially after everything he said while the others were under the spell.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Today marked a full week since you'd gone into hiding, emerging only for little more than a shower and something to eat. You took most of your meals in your room, instead of eating at the table with everyone else. Dean was growing increasingly worried about you, and was determined to get you to break out of your sanctuary.

He knocked at your door relentlessly, trying to coax you out with offers of a movie marathon with your favorite snacks. He even suggested a midnight stargazing outing in the Impala. However, nothing seemed to be working.

At one point you heard, "You can't ignore me forever, sweetheart," he muttered against your door. Oh yeah? You thought defiantly. Watch me.

Halfway through week two of your self-imposed exile, you needed a new book to read. You carefully unlocked and opened your bedroom door, then looked down the hall. No one was in sight in either direction, so you tiptoed out of your room and into the library. You chose a nice, thick book, then rushed back to your room before anyone could see you. Once back inside your room, you quickly closed and re-locked the door, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

"Hey, sweetheart," a voice rumbled from someone sitting in the chair in the corner.

The heavy book dropped from your hands and nearly fell on your toes. You gasped in surprise and clutched at your hammering heart. "What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?!? Not to do it, if I recall," you retorted.

"Didn't really leave me much choice, though, did you? I wasn't sure if you ever wanted to see me again, but I wanted to see you. Been hiding in here for almost two weeks now," Dean remarked softly.

"I've had my reasons, Dean. This whole curse thing has left me more confused than ever. Sam, Cas and even Crowley never thought of me romantically until that spell came along. And you? You've made your feelings clear about the whole situation at every turn.

"So," you continued. "On the one hand, it takes a 'love spell' for guys like Sam, Cas and Crowley to want to be with someone like me. On the other hand, when I am with someone like them, you don't like it and make nasty remarks about the whole thing. Please tell me, Dean, where's the incentive to make me want to be anywhere but in my room by myself? Hmm?" you challenged.

Dean rose from the chair in the corner and strode over to the door where you were still standing. He stood close enough for you to detect his woodsy cologne, mixed with the mint of his mouthwash. He reached up and tenderly tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I understand how you feel. But, before I do this, I need you to know that I have always loved you," he said softly. The hand that had so recently fixed your hair slid around to the back of your head. It pulled you closer until your lips meshed with Dean's in a hungry, demanding kiss.

Dean swallowed the soft moan of pleasure that escaped your lips. His free arm snaked around your waist to bring you flush against his body. His kisses roamed everywhere, trying to leave no territory untouched. Your cheeks, your neck, collarbone and more was all fair game for Dean. "So beautiful," he murmured against your shoulder.

"Dean," you whispered. You reached up to cup Dean's face with your hands, stroking his cheek with your thumbs. You tangled your fingers into his spiky hair and gently tugged on it, earning a groan of appreciation.

Dean's hands roamed up and down your back, gripping and releasing the fabric of your shirt. When the need for air became too great, the kissing was broken, leaving you and Dean each trying to catch your breath. You put your foreheads together as your breathing slowly returned to normal.

Dean took your hands and guided you to sit next to him on the edge of your bed. "Baby, I'm so sorry for what I said to you before when that whole thing with the spell was going on. I guess it was because I was jealous of Sam, Cas and even Crowley," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Oh, my love. There wasn't anything to be jealous of. It was kind of weird, all of a sudden having those guys chasing after me," you giggled. You brought your hand down to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his stubbled jawline. "It's always been you that I've been in love with for so long. But, I thought you'd only ever see me as a fellow hunter, or at most, a best friend. Never as the woman who loves you," you replied softly.

"Darlin', what I see before me is a woman who lights up a room whenever she walks into it. A woman with a kind and generous heart that tends to put the needs of others before her own. I see a woman with an exceptional sense of humor, who's smart and sexy as hell. And just as she has chosen me, I choose her. Every time," he finished.

"I love you, Dean," you said softly.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he replied as he leaned in to recapture your lips in a soft, sweet kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @supernatural-jackles @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @magssteenkamp @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @hobby27 @jay-and-dean @waywardbaby

#spn bi-weekly writing challenge #dean x reader #dean winchester #spn imagine #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

65 notes · View notes

mishavacado · 3 years

Text

SPN has so much spinoff potential and so much canon to work with, it's such a waste that none of it's getting used. This post is just all of my spinoff ideas, I'll apologize in advance because it is VERY long.

Wayward Sisters, obviously. There are so many possible storylines to work with, so many stories to tell. I'd really love to see some Charlie, Eileen, or Krissy Chambers cameos. I think that Charlie and Claire would get along really well (just read this post). Rowena is another character that I think could easily be worked into the canon. She could teach the girls all kinds of magic and be the fun wine aunt that spoils the girls on their birthdays. I don't think that Claire would like her very much, but, Rowena and Alex would probably get along just fine. How much I need this in my life: 1000000000000000000000000/10 when I heard that this idea had been tossed out I was so angry. Why doesn't this exist?

Men of Letters prequel that's mostly set in the bunker. This show could really expand on the canon lore and give us some more background on the Men of Letters, as well as any other similar/rival organizations that were around before the main show's time. The Men of Letters have so much story potential for a spin-off; corrupt leadership, new monsters, other organizations, expanding the MoL to outside the U.S. Episodes could be in a monster-of-the-week (MOTW) format, starting and ending with the Man of Letters the case is assigned to making notes in his journal or case file or talking about the case, as well as the overall season arcs. Episodes would be titled by their case number, i.e S1 E1 Case No. 1925-4, etc How much I need this in my life: 1000000/10, the supernatural/historical drama combo would be absolutely stunning.

A series focusing on all of the alternate timelines and universes, both the ones mentioned in the main show and ones just randomly created for an episode. There are infinite possibilities. Each episode would be in a MOTW format, but with different versions of Sam and Dean. The HunterCorp universe, Jared and Jensen from the French Mistake, a universe where their names are switched, a universe where Dean went to college and was the one with the demon blood powers, a universe where they drive a Mustang instead of the Impala, a universe where Sam isn't scared of clowns. I could go on, but I'm going to stop myself here. How much I need this in my life: 9/10 I think it would be pretty funny, but it's not my best idea.

A Bobby and Rufus spin-off where they talk about cases they worked on together or with other hunters, but the stories are told similarly to Tall Tales. It's the same story but told from different points of view depending on who's talking. I wish we'd gotten to see more of Bobby and Rufus because I think those two are hilarious and really think that this could be funny, even if it was just a web series with twenty-minute episodes. How much I need this in my life: 10/10, I love Bobby and Rufus and I think that they have a lot of interesting hunting stories to tell.

GHOSTFACERS GHOSTFACERS GHOSTFACERS. How much I need this in my life: 100000000000000000000000/10, I love the Ghostfacers. That's my whole idea.

A Jack-centric show that's almost a political drama. Jack is the ruler of heaven and is constantly being manipulated by angels, demons, and Death herself. He just wants to make an afterlife paradise, but power-hungry angels won't leave him alone. Remember that Jack is very young and trusting by nature, so there is a lot of potential for disaster if he gets goaded into doing something, like making new universes or ending existing ones. Cas is a main character and he does his best to protect Jack, but he has to be careful to not seem overprotective/like another manipulator or Jack won't trust him either. I have no idea if I'm making any sense, but shoutout to me if I am. For some reason, I've always thought that heaven would be an interesting setting for a spin-off, and those angels are pretty similar to power-hungry politicians. How much I need this in my life: 800/10, I would totally watch this.

A very short series that just destroys the canon finale. Twelve episodes, detailing the storylines that were ignored or destroyed by Carry On. E1: Rescuing Cas from the Empty and he and Dean have a long talk about their ~feelings~. They kiss, and for the first time, Dean’s mind is free of doubt about whether or not anyone could ever love all of him. E2: Eileen returns. She says nothing when she sees Dean and Cas holding hands, just raises her eyebrow and smiles knowingly. Some excellent movie night content. E3: 1 year later. Sam and Eileen’s wedding. Dean and Cas aren’t legally married, but their matching gold rings are very prominently shown. It isn’t mentioned. The wedding is almost canceled because of the rain, but with a wave of Jack’s hand the clouds disappear and the birds start to sing. E4: Sam and Eileen have moved out of the Bunker. Cas finally convinces Dean to downsize, so they find a little house in Lawrence and settle down. Cas works as a special ed teacher. Dean works as a mechanic. Miracle loves the backyard but makes sure to stay away from the beehives in the back corner. E5: Sam and Eileen’s twins, Mary and Maura, are born. Dean and Cas love their nieces, and Jack loves them too. He doesn’t know what to call himself, so they settle on Uncle and call it good. E6: Deaths. They all die old. Cas’s vessel has aged, but he can’t die, so when Dean finally passes away in his sleep, Cas scatters his ashes in the woods and disappears, ascending to heaven, to spend eternity with Dean. The closing scene is a dark screen, with the whoosh of wings and a soft “Hello, Dean.” OK. That was a long one. My apologies. How much I need this in my life: 100000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000/10. I would reach nerdvana thirty seconds into episode one.

Another spinoff of that idea is just...Dean and Cas living a normal life. Short episodes. Cas goes to the grocery store. Dean drags Cas to a horror movie fan convention. Cas meets a roomba. How much I need this in my life: I can’t type enough zeroes to express it.

Campbell prequel that focuses on Mary and her childhood. Mary being raised as a hunter but not being allowed on hunts. Mary rushing home to finish her chemistry homework so she can help her dad track a nest of vampires moving east. Mary missing her prom to help Samuel on a hunt. Mary trying to keep her real life secret from John, a man she knows loves the parts of her he knows about. Mary always being an outsider, the kindest and most beautiful girl in her class, but so slow to trust and quick to speak that everyone is afraid to be her friend. Mary is a character that has the potential a lot more development, for twelve seasons she’s the burning martyr in every Winchester’s imagined paradise. She deserves more. How much I need this in my life: 11/10, Mary isn’t my favorite character but I would die for her.

Gabriel spin-off. That’s it, that’s the idea. How much I need this in my life: 10000000/10, Gabriel is a character that we don’t know a lot about so there are so many possible directions for a story about him to go.

Show set in the SPN universe that doesn’t really interact with the main show’s canon. It’s about two cops in the 30s that become hunters by accident. After investigating the apparent suicide of a hunter in their small town, they become enthralled by her library, filled with books about ghosts and vampires. They pour over her journals on their own time, fascinated by what they’re reading. They get to know the hunter through her writings, her accounts of her hunts and travels. Eventually, a nest of vampires settles in the town and the two put their newfound knowledge to the test. This show would just be based on canon lore, there wouldn’t be any mention of the Winchesters or other main characters, although a few MoL team-ups is definitely a possibility. The two become quite a team, tracking werewolf backs on bulletin boards in their basements and hoarding rock salt. How much I need this in my life: 89/10, I think this could be really interesting and I am a sucker for historical hunters.

Speaking of historical hunters-Samuel Colt prequel. Cowboys, vampires, cowpires. Hunting in the wild west, galloping across the prairie chasing a pack of werewolves. This show could also tell us a lot about how different types of monsters spread across the U.S. Ghosts will go anywhere people go, but what about vampires? Shapeshifters? Ghouls? What was it like to hunt without technology to help with research? The hunters in this series would be the authors of the journals that modern hunters use every day. They’re the ones that tested tracking and trapping methods. Again, no idea if this is making sense, but I think that a supernatural western would be really awesome and would expand/substantiate the canon lore. How much I need this in my life: 1000000000000000000000000000000/10, I love cowboys and I love Supernatural. This is literally the best thing that could ever happen to me.

Crowley. I want to know more about him. A series that tells us all about Fergus Roderick MacLeod, starting with when he was born in Scotland and ending with his death in All Along the Watchtower. We know that Rowena was his mother, that he was a tailor, that he sold his soul for an extra three inches ~down there~, and that he was a terrible dad. I want to know more about his childhood, about the people he made deals with, about how he became king of the crossroads and of Hell. Crowley was a very interesting character that was abused by the story. I want to know more about him. How much I need this in my life: 10000000000000000000000000000000000000/10, I really do love Crowley and I would watch this a thousand times over.

Final idea: MOTW only. No season arc, no overall storyline. New hunters every episode, from all different times, from over the world. All kinds of monsters. One episode in Victorian England, the next in 1990s Los Angeles. Very few recurring characters, if any. The recurring characters would be the Bobby Singers of the world; the lore guys that you call when you need help. Each new character has their own style, own car, own music, own personality. The show could have some a m a z i n g guest stars because they’d only appear in a few episodes. There are so many possibilities for episodes, even if they weren’t full length. How much I need this in my life: 100000/10, I love MOTW episodes and would really like to get to know the characters. It would be very easy to write one-off fanfics for this show, and also very easy to introduce this show’s characters into Supernatural’s canon.

You made it to the end!!!!!!!! That’s all I have for now. Sorry for writing so much, I just can’t stop thinking about SPN and all of the wasted stories.

#al speaks #spn #spn spin-offs #my ideas #i worked hard on this #big brain time #do you like it?

47 notes · View notes

shirtlesssammy · 4 years

Text

15x15: Gimme Shelter

Then:

Dean used his words to save the world once

Now:

At a food bank community center, three teens dole out food while stressing out about one attendant who’s breaking their cleanliness rules. Connor heads over to talk to the woman, but is stopped by the center’s pastor. The pastor challenges Connor’s motivation. ”We have rules, but we also have spirit too, right?” The pastor tells Connor to lead with compassion, so Connor brings the woman food instead of kicking her out of the building.

Later, Connor walks home. Much like all other cold open walks, this one also involves a solitary alley. He hears someone calling his name. Trying to find the source of the voice, he trips and finds a talking teddy bear, and a metal hook around his neck.

Dean and Sam discuss research. Sam’s found a non-case, while Dean’s hit the jackpot in Atlantic City. Specifically, an unexplained blackout has him thinking that Amara’s enjoying her new gambling addiction on the East Coast.

Cas pops up and thinks he should go with the brothers, but they tell him to stay put and babysit Jack. I say TFW is just better together, but I’m not writing this episode. Hrmph. The brothers are packed and ready to go, but Jack stops them in the war room to ask about the case Sam found.

Sam tells him it’s nothing. Dean encourages Cas and Jack to investigate --to keep Jack busy. Cas seems skeptical, but Dean insists.

Agents Swift and Lovato meet with the local law enforcement to learn more about the case. Sweet Jesus is it cute that Cas continues to use pop-star names. It’s cute that Jack takes after his father with the upside down badge. It’s cute that Jack recognizes the teddy bear and says he has one (Did Cas buy it for him? He has a history of buying stuffed animals for his quasi-children.)

The sheriff tells them about the victim, and how the word ‘Liar’ was carved into him.

Jack posits that this all seems demonic.

Cut to Cas digging into the ground at a crossroads. Time to get some information. Cas buries a picture of himself that Dean took when he was wearing a cowboy hat (Don’t worry, Dean still has his copy, and keeps it safe…. for reasons.) and Jack sets up a social media account. He’s WAY under 13 years old, so he needs a parent’s permission. Cas grants it easily. (Also, ALSO!! ALSO, there are NOT too many cats on the internet. This writing is so OOC, smh.)

A demon appears.

He’s channeling his inner Crowley, and I suddenly miss the bugger for a moment. Zach, the demon, is very bored and desperately wants something to do. He’s not really British and tells the duo that no one's making demon deals right now. Rowena’s of the philosophy that “people will end up where they belong.” Cas realizes their mistake and moves to leave. “Sam was right, it’s not a monster,” Jack laments. “He was half right. Sometimes humans can be the worst kind of monsters,” Cas adds.

At the community center, a woman locks up, and grabs a whole lotta cash from the donation box before she bails. Once outside, she hears a voice call her name. She looks around but sees nothing. She turns back to her car to find a masked individual. A weird editing choice cuts back to her...and commercial.

Cas checks in with the brothers. Dean tells Cas to be wary of those “Hallelujah types” and I’m like, wha? Cas is an ANGEL OF THE LORD. He’s been around the block, Dean. Lol for looking out for your BFF, tho. Also, second awkward moment of the episode when Dean just hangs up on Cas? I’m…

Sam voices his reservations about the whole finding Amara --lying to Amara --killing Amara plan. Say it louder for the brother in the seat next to you, Sam!

(Boris: I’m just going to insert this in the middle of this recap and never mention it again. Can we trust Billie? Is her plan actually something that is GOOD for our TFW 2.0? What is her agenda and does it align with what we want? What if what SHE wants is as equally bad as what Chuck wants? What if we as an audience are getting played right now??) (Natasha: What if the strings she’s pulling are emotional and she’s playing a dangerous game of chicken with Dean’s rage and Chuck’s entitlement?)

Jack joins the community center. He watches Dr. Sexy the pastor in a prayer circle, and talks to a disillusioned young woman who asks him to fill out a form before walking away.

Cas walks in separately and wanders over to Dr. Sexy the pastor praying with a parishioner, and tells him about the cash stealing Valerie. She never made it home.

Cut to Valerie tied and gagged. Her hands are in an elaborate guillotine. She wakes. Her screams are muffled. A TV turns on and flashes the word ‘Thief’. And one of her fingers gets chopped off. A timer starts on the TV. AND WE ALL RECOIL.

Jack finishes the paperwork and tries to talk to the girls working the food line. The one girl storms off, upset. Jack follows her and tells her that he didn’t mean to upset her.

She tells him that Connor and her dated. Well, they watched a lot of old movies together. (AHEM! AHEM! AHEM! “I’m your Huckleberry.” AHEM. Please stop the clowning, it hurts so much.)

Jack confesses to the girl that he lost his mother. The girl tells Jack that her mom died three years ago, and now it’s just her and her emotionally unavailable father, the pastor. “I have more dads than most, and I’m always just feeling like I’m letting all of them down.” JACK!!!! The girl tells Jack to trust God, not people.

And we laugh, and laugh, and, guh, laugh.

Cas, meanwhile, meets with Dr. Sexy the pastor.

Cas interrogates Dr. Sexy Pastor about whether anyone else has gone missing recently. Well, there was one guy who used to work for the “faith-based community” but they parted ways. Cas and the pastor enjoy a little god talk. Cas, the weary angel, opines that God just doesn’t care. The pastor has a different take on faith - it’s about the people of his church doing what they can to take care of each other. We learn that this church recently changed from a fundamentalist branch to something more welcoming. Connor was able to come out as gay due to the changes, so some good happened. (Hindsight thoughts: this makes his death and the “Liar” all the more awful.) “A saint is a sinner who keeps trying,” the pastor concludes...and if that ain’t the truth about Cas!

Sam and Dean are on the too-slow train to Atlantic City when Amara drops in during a gas stop and invites them out for pierogi.

At Patchwork, the pastor asks Jack to share his journey of faith during a prayer circle. Jack falters, and Cas steps in. “I do know what blind faith is. I used to just follow orders. Without question. And I did some pretty terrible things. I would never look beyond the plan. Then, of course, when it all came crashing down I found myself lost. I didn’t know what my purpose was anymore. And then one day something changed. Something amazing. I guess I found a family. And I became a father. And in that, I rediscovered my faith. I rediscovered who I am.” BRB crying!

Later in the cafeteria, Jack asks Sexy Pastor, M.D. how he brought together so many people with different ideas of religion. “It’s not about what they believe. It’s what they do,” he reiterates. (I imagine, for a moment, an ending where Jack calls out to the whole world and all living creatures and Heaven and Hell unite to win the final confrontation and make a better world together.)

The tranquil moment is interrupted by the TV turning on to security feed footage of the victim. The timer runs out and she loses another finger and screams and screams. Jack rushes over to the TV and pulls out a USB stick from the back.

Meanwhile, the Winchesters dine with Amara.

They bring up Chuck’s destruction of the other universes and tell her they have a plan to stop him. They’ve got a nephilim on their side AND he’s super powerful. All they need is for Amara to help them trap Chuck and...WHAMMO. Amara gently refuses to betray her brother. She lays some new mythology on them. She and Chuck are twins - creation and destruction - and their splitting apart first brought life into the world.

Cas and Jack barge into the church’s ex-AV tech’s room. And by that, I mean, Jack gets hurled through another door? Um. Okay. The part of me that grew up with 3 Stooges is HERE FOR IT, tbh.

They discover the guy is dead, chained up in bed with cuffs, with the word “lust” painted above him.

Getting ready to leave town, Sam’s ready to accept Amara’s choice. Dean “Fuck Acceptance” Winchester heads back inside and corners Amara. He asks why she brought back Mary.

Amara tells him that she wanted him to see that the apple pie dream life he’s always striving for isn’t real - that Mary was only human - and BETTER because of that. Amara thought that would help him to accept his life. Amara also thought that having Mary back would release Dean from his anger.

He leans forward and lets her know that he’s furious. Everyone in this universe is trapped, he tells her - including her. And she’s doing nothing. Amara falters in the face of this, and then asks him if she can trust him. “I would never hurt you,” he LIES TO HER FACE. She tells him she’ll think about it.

That evening Sylvia, the pastor’s daughter, listens to her friend gush over the social media attention she’s getting after posting about the torture video. In a flash of rage, Sylvia stabs her friend and races away. Dr. Sexy Pastor finds the current (still alive) victim just as Sylvia catches up to him. She accuses him of laughing at her mother after her mother died from trying to heal by prayer rather than medical science. She accuses him of changing the church that her mother grew up in. Jack jumps into the fray and gets stabbed for his trouble. When Cas arrives, Sylvia is quickly subdued by his Vulcan forehead tap of slumber.

Cas yanks away the restraints from the victim (SOOOO strong) and then heals her fingers back on while the pastor looks on in wonder.

For So Strong Science:

Later, they gather outside while Sylvia gets taken away in cuffs. The pastor still cares about his daughter and vows to get her help. The driver of the car is Zach the crossroads demon? Oookay.

Cas and Jack drive home. In the truck of feelings, Cas asks Jack why he couldn’t share during the prayer circle. Jack confesses that he’s been lying. The spell Billie is doing with him is turning him into a bomb to be used against Chuck and Amara. It’ll work - they’ll cease to exist. But Jack will be obliterated too. “This is the only way they’ll ever forgive me,” he tells Cas.

Cas is horrified. He can’t watch Jack die again! Cas refuses to watch Jack die again, but Jack seems to have fully embraced this as his necessary fate.

Back at the bunker, Dean heads for the whiskey bottle late at night when he spots Cas shuffling towards the exit. Jack’s settled in his room, Cas reports. Cas then tells Dean he’s going to look for “another way.”

Oh AND, “In case something goes wrong and I don’t make it back, there’s something you and Sam need to know…”

FADE. TO. BLACK.

The Se7en Deadly Quotes:

You guys go Highway to Heaven that bitch

You look greener than Baby Yoda

“Did anyone find any tiny bags with chicken bones inside?” “Did anyone smell sulfur?” “Did anyone feel cold?”

There were too many cats

Where can I find the Kool-Aid?

I wanted you to see that your mother was just a person

It was a gift, Dean. Not a trial

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #jack kline #spn 15x15 #gimme shelter #supernatural season 15

56 notes · View notes

tintentrinkerin · 3 years

Text

Harness & Spears

Chapter 5: Father’s Eyes

missed a chapter? Check out my Masterlist or AO3

Researching for a case a year after they quit first feels weird to Sam, he has to get used to all the programs, his usual agenda. Today it’s so much easier with some computer skills. No more libraries, no more grainy scans of articles in local papers. Today, you just have to open a search engine app on your phone or a computer and you will be able to find dozens of cases in an hour or two. Of course, there’s still the work of sorting the wheat from the chaff, but Jack is a big help. They sit in the library together and go search for cases. Cas is really sweet to them, just like a butler he offers hot beverages and sandwiches, even though Sam must really hold him back to go full on “Yes, sir”. They want a case, and there are hundreds of them, but also, after Jack became God he brought all the hunters back that Chuck had banished. Donna and Jody, a couple now, as they announced just months after Jack’s ascend, and her girls, all in the hunter business. They heard from Eileen sporadically, but after all that happened and how uneasy Sam felt about the whole manipulation (and he was absolutely certain Chuck pulled the strings there, even though, when they originally met, Sam was drawn to her - but nothing more), she kept her distance and operated in Ireland and also all over Europe. The hunters from the other universe also just hunted in small groups. Charlie and her girlfriend retired for good. And Sam was still bitter about his own behaviour - projecting ‘his’ Charlie on this woman, who was so much different. He knew she hacked some computers every now and then to prank some potential Dicks. Sam was connected to the hunters, most of them. He has been clear about him and Dean, Cas (and later Jack) not going hunting anymore. But now things changed and Sam needed to check if any other hunters were on the cases him and Jack might find interesting. Running in another couple of hunting buddies is not a problem on a personal level, but the mutual sabotage will happen. It’s Murphy’s Law. That’s why Sam has a plan. They will take cases other hunters wouldn’t like to do. There are several reasons for hunting in the first place and reasons which cases to pursue and which not. Let noble monster hunting and cleansing the world be some hunter’s motivation, revenge, the thrill (some people really were that sick and hunted monsters for the kicks) and of course. The money. Oh yes, the money. But the Winchester conglomerate doesn’t worry about money, that’s why Sam won’t look for cases that have to do with wealthy people or towns announcing rewards. Also, when he knew the kind of monster and that a lot of hunters were after these creatures for killing their kin or loved ones, he better didn’t interfere. You could hunt monsters for their venom or psychic abilities, their blessings or whatever. Something a friend of Dean did not so long ago and got himself killed for it.

It shouldn’t be anything exotic, the New Age brought new monsters, at least that’s what Jack says.

“I was God, yes, and I knew everything that Chuck knew, but believe it or not, not even Chuck knew all of his creatures. His mind is packed with the stuff he wanted to do or not to do - if you ask me he was a little like George R. R. Martin. Got lost in his own massive universe and all the detail. I tried to give all of it structure, that’s why some things on Earth changed, but after some time I thought my head would explode and I uh, outsourced some good stuff in new universes. Amara is way better in doing all of that, she created way more universes and new forms of life as I did. She and her brother - don’t get me started.”

Jack looks exhausted. “Does it sound weird, Sam? That I wanted to be down here with you, all of you, but especially you, and give Amara all that power?”

Sam smiles about Jack’s outbreak and that he obviously read Game of Thrones. “No, it’s not weird. You were with Amara and I bet she’s very pleasant company but she wasn’t what you longed for. You didn’t want to be God who’s in every drop of rain, and all that. It was noble and pure hearted and generous of you to try, but you were allowed to fail. But, speaking of Game of Thrones, I have a few questions regarding--”

Sam is rudely interrupted in his chatter with Jack when Dean comes into the library and sits down two chairs away from Jack. Jack immediately gets up.

“Uh, Sam, I will -errm, go pack my bags. I think you will find a good case.”

Sam sighs.

“I’ll be with you soon, baby. Just gimme a minute.”

Jack is quick as a flash and out of sight within seconds.

Dean scoffs while thudding his mug on the table. Coffee pours out and stains the wood.

“Easy on the furniture Dean, it’s not your enemy”, Sam says without looking up. He can’t show Dean his face right now or he will just erupt. He feels the heat in his cheeks and a hot tickle up his neck. Since Dean threw a mug after Sam yesterday they haven’t seen each other and to be frank, Sam could totally renounce any other encounter with Dean for a while. Plus, Sam has a hickey, because Jack went a little passionate, clingy and possessive last night, for whatever reason.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you and… baby. ” The last word is like venom. As always. Dean wants to start another fight.

“I remember that I heard you calling Cas ‘daddy’ multiple times. You think that was really soothing for my wild imagination?”

“You call Jack what he is. A baby.”

“Another word, Dean, and you know I’ll knock you out. I have enough of your bullshit. You act like a jealous housewife. No, wait, more like a cuck!”

Dean scoffs and leaves.

“Do whatever you want, but don’t do it when I’m around or I’ll tear him apart.”

Sam sits here in shock. He has heard a lot from Dean about Jack, he has always been nasty to him and yes, even threatened to kill him twice, even was willing to execute him as part of Chuck’s evil plan. Yes, he was bitter about Mary and hell, how bitter Dean has been as Jack brought so many people back. All the ‘others’: Bobby and Charlie with her girlfriend. All these people. He brought Eileen back, and Dean thought it was to make Sam happy (and yes, that has been Jack’s intention, but ultimately it didn’t) and he was resistant to the arguments, that Mary was happy with John, she didn’t want to go back in this world she never felt like she fit in. He couldn’t be comforted by the messages Jack as a medium brought to Dean, that Mary loved him no matter what and that she will be happy when they meet again. Nothing could’ve soothed Dean’s aching. Sam understands that he’s hurt, but now, it just feels like Dean is angry at Jack for simply existing and then being so bold to love Sam.

Jack brought Cas back for Dean. He had risked a feud with the Empty that could only be avoided by Amara and Jack forcefully put the Regent of the Empty asleep. The Empty wasn’t sealed though, Rowena still reigned in hell, and still demons went to the Empty. But there are no angels on Earth anymore, Jack has naphil powers and even Cas regained some faint strength back, but Jack didn’t make new angels.

Jack really built a world in which it was possible for Dean and Cas to be together, he risked being invaded and maybe killed, since no one knows how really powerful the Empty was.

Why is nothing Jack does, no matter how universe shattering, unbelievably cosmic and holy and insane it is, not finally letting Dean the old grudge go?

It seems like everything he does just makes it worse.

Sam hides his face and in the safety of his own palms he allows to cry in fear for his own spiteful brother and soulmate. This will end badly if they don’t find a way to reconcile.

“You have to stop that, Dean” Cas says when Dean is back in the Deancave.

Cas is in his robe, nothing beneath. He looks pale and a little skinny. The last weeks have been hard on him and Dean knows it’s his fault. He makes his angel boyfriend sick. And yet he’s sick himself, and he’s kicking and fighting, with talons and teeth, words and throwing things after his brother. Also, he erupts the second Cas dares to mention it.

“Stop with what?”, he asks.

He picks the remote and wants to turn on the TV, loud metal music blasting but with a snap of a finger, the TV silent and it won’t turn back on.

“Castiel. Don’t fuck with me, I swear, I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re ‘not in the mood’ for weeks, maybe months. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Why won’t you let me help?”

Dean’s eyes narrow dangerously as he faces the seraph.

“Help? How could you help? My brother fucks a toddler.”

Cas sighs and it sounds so endlessly sad. Defeated. Dean doesn’t want to see it, acknowledge it, that he is indeed very wrong. Jack is no toddler, Jack is no brat, Jack is so mighty he could really smite the whole bunker with a hiccup still, even though he’s not God anymore. Dean should be so damn careful. Dean should see how much Jack begs for his forgiveness and his approval.

But Dean can’t. And Dean won’t.

“Dean.”

Dean is so full of sorrow and fear, it hurts to hear his own name so gentle, so loving yet somehow fatherly. Cas loves him and Dean should be happy. He has been happy. The Empty had taken him away and Jack had fought to get him back. So they could be a family.

But this isn’t family to Dean. He’s around the person he loves the most, the person he loves with a burning, blinding insanity. He will never be happy like this.

Cas dares to come closer, around two steps away, offers Dean a hand. Dean can’t even look at him but he takes Cas’s hand and then pulls him in a desperate embrace.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, Cas. I don’t want to fight with you.”

It’s been a while, actually the last time Dean slept with Cas was the night when Jack asked him if Sam gay. This question is carved under his skin and if you look closely, you can see them shine through like thin red scars.

The streak won’t break today either.

“Will he ever stop hating me?”, Jack asks.

He has his suitcase packed, same as a backpack with snacks, water, headphones, his teddy Marvelous Marvin, a powerbank and, something he’s very proud of - his own angel blade. The only angels on earth are Jack and Castiel but the blade kills monsters just as well. He kneads the bundle of the purple blanket in his lap when he looks up to Sam.

Sam’s still tense from before, his eyes red and narrow, Sam must look like he didn’t sleep much or has been on a bender.

“I don’t know… I wish I knew what’s wrong with him.”

With a deep sigh Sam sinks beside Jack on the mattress. The bed creaks and a spring nudges in Sam’s butt cheek. Either they need a new mattress or they move in a room together, but Sam doesn’t dare to talk about these things yet. So far, he’s happy about the privacy. But he’s also constantly longing for Jack - a stalemate.

Jack leans against Sam’s shoulder and shyly feels for Sam’s hand. Sam is too glad to take it, intertwine their fingers and kiss Jack’s knuckles.

“It makes me sick, Sam. I’m afraid all the time he’s around. I’m afraid he might want to…”

“Hurt you?”

Jack nods, his lips a thin line.

“I won’t let him. And most of all, you won’t let him. Right?”

Another silent nod.

“Don’t worry about it now, our bags are packed and I found a case. I told you about the parameters I used to find a case no one else would investigate, and this one here is especially weird, but not weird enough for us to follow, and a bit boring, but not boring enough for us to NOT follow it. We’ve been to haunted houses before, right?”

“Yes, it’s mostly vengeful spirits or poltergeists, right?”

Sam nods. “Yes, exactly. Sometimes triggered by the plans of tearing the house down, the same can happen with big bodies of water, when they are threatened to be dried out, spirits of people who drowned will start going on a rampage. Haunted houses are like level 1 of every hunter. Rocksalt, shotgun, holy water, fire. Boom, ghost gone.”

Jack frowns a little. “Really, we’re going on a case that any newbie hunter could solve?”

Sam chuckles.

“Yep.”

It’s absolutely a thinly veiled reason to go on a hunt, but it’s the same that Dean and Cas did weeks ago when Jack sneaked out. In the end they also ‘just’ took on a vampire nest with five vamps and their Creator and the rest of the time they had a blast in Vegas, why should Sam not do the same? He wants to be alone with Jack, because Dean definitely ruined the pleasant experience of the tantra massage. Sam had been so happy back then and oh, crap, he was close to do more to Jack than just the massage. He wouldn’t have slept with him on this massage table, that was utterly uncomfortable, but he had been turned on so bad, that didn’t happen very often.

Sam really falls for Jack deeply and seriously. It’s a wonderful and frightening feeling at the same time.

Jack slides on Sam’s lap and straddles him, arms tight around his neck. Jack squints a little when he’s so close, his big blue eyes will never cease to amaze Sam.

“How can you not be Castiel’s son?”, Sam blurts, his hands cupping the naphil’s face and brushing away some strands of hair.

Jack’s mouth opens slightly, his tongue sneaks out to lick his upper lip.

“I am Castiel’s son.”

“I know, I just mean, genetically. You have his eyes. Does that sound stupid, baby?”

Jack shakes his head with a grin, his neck and face turn tenderly pink.

How did the biggest monster of all create this perfect boy?

“No, not stupid. I like the way you look at me”, Jack silently admits and the blush turns berry red.

“How do I look at you?”

Sam kisses Jack’s parted lips, feels the hitched breath and how Jack tightens up his back.

“First you looked at me with fear, when I was born. Then you looked at me in sympathy, in worry… Then gentle, loving. Just now, longing… You see a man, not a child, right? That’s the look in your face how you look at someone beautiful you want to be with…?”

Sam’s big hands creep under Jack’s pullover and Jack sighs, a light shudder down his spine and this tiny, quiet noise of content.

“You are beautiful, and yes, I want to be with you. All the time”, Sam whispers, he sounds rough, feels like he needs to clear his throat.

Jack lays his hands on Sam’s and guides him down his sweatpants. Sam squeezes. A slight gasp.

“We will have a lot of time for fun stuff once we’re out of here.”

That makes Jack jerk up, jump and drag Sam on his feet.

“Come, Sam! I can’t wait to be out of here.”

#harness&spears #rating: teen #sin is sinning #winkline #samjack

10 notes · View notes

cornflowershade · 3 years

Text

So I was thinking about Sam and Dean’s character trajectories and what each of them had expressed wanting in life. Thusly, let me present my Ideal Ending for the two of them (because I got some new ideas.)

Right off, let’s just be clear: hunting became Sam’s life. He’s attached to it. He likes organizing people, helping out, making a difference. He’s stubborn. He’s not one to grow old and give it up, and he certainly never wanted to “settle down” in a traditional sense. (He said this multiple times as the show progressed.) When Sam eventually presented the idea of “settling down” he specifically said with a hunter or someone who understands the life (aka Eileen. He didn’t want a romantic ending, he wanted a romantic ending with Eileen. And he wanted to keep hunting because that’s what he DOES and what gives him a purpose.) Sam is also a learner. In the f*nale, he doesn’t appear to have any particular passion or job or literally anything, despite always enjoying the act of learning and especially of becoming accomplished. At first this meant become a lawyer. By the end of the show, I believe the answer is become a powerful badass witch. His association with witches has existed through the whole show, from Ruby to Rowena, and the great thing about his relationship with Rowena is that it showed him reclaiming something related to negative aspects of his past and making it positive. Plus, he’s good magic and seems to enjoy learning spells in order to help with the hunting endeavors. So, Sam should have of course ended up with Eileen, becoming an epic hunter/hunter-witch duo. When Sam gets older and decides to take a step back, he still wouldn’t abandon the job completely. He would be a Bobby. The guy people call for help. The guy who does background research for younger hunters like Clarie when they don’t know what they’re dealing with. The guy who answers the phone and pretends to be your FBI supervisor because nope nah those totally weren’t fake badges *wink wink*. SAM DESERVED TO BE A HAPPY WITCH!BOBBY LIVING WITH EILEEN AND BEING THE GO-TO RESOURCE/MORAL-SUPPORT-UNCLE FOR A NEW GENERATION OF RECKLESS HUNTERS.

Now, what about Dean? It occurred to me that my perfect ending for Sam & Dean mirror the positions of older hunters/parental figures we’ve seen on the show. While Sam should’ve been a Bobby, Dean should have been an Ellen. What do we know about what Dean wants? A home. A family. An honest to goodness apple pie life, but one that’s still interesting and Cool. Oh and of course we all know that he wants a bar. HE DREAMS OF OWNING A FREAKING BAR. And of course, he would have wanted Cas. Even if Dean left hunting (which I think he would do, at least most of the time. Maybe he’d do a stray hunt here and there, but on the whole he’d settle down) he wouldn’t wanna cut ties with the whole community. So he would start a new Bar/Roadhouse of his OWN. That hunters would frequent. Heck, sometimes Sam & Eileen drop in for beers on their way home from a hunt. Dean and Cas are together, and they adopt/take in a kid. Cas has literally said he rediscovered who he is because of his children. Dean has mentioned wanting kids, multiple times. (Yeah, okay, it didn’t work out with Jack but that’s because there were a bunch of other Bigger Issues there. But Ben?? Dean ADORED Ben. So yes he and Cas get a kid.)

Sam can still easily die peacefully of old age. Like, that’s fine with me, provided that he’s living a life that he would actually ENJOY, with the person he LOVES, doing the job he’s PASSIONATE ABOUT, while keeping in touch with his BROTHER and his brother’s ANGEL HUSBAND.

Now, as for Dean’s eventual death... Okay not to make us lose Dean again but this would be the coolest way to mash up his new happy ending with his old going-out-swinging dream. Kinda tragic, but also kind of the perfect emotional moment?? Dean & Cas’s kid decides that they want to be a hunter, much like Jo did. Dean (who is honestly such an Ellen-type parent okay) doesn’t want to see that happen because he loves his child so damn much and is like nO. Meanwhile Cas is like *ahem* “D e a r.” “WhAT?” “You and I both know from our own experiences that yelling ‘no’ doesn’t make someone listen. In the end they’ll make their own choice. Do I want them hunting? Probably not, but let’s either talk this out peacefully until they decide against it, or lovingly support their decision to do what they want.” So their child, who BY THE WAY Dean probably named Charlie because Charlie was definitely his best friend okay and she deserves to have a tribute like this ahhh so sweet. But yeah back to the point, their daughter Charlie starts hunting, and when Dean goes out, it’s after getting called in as backup for a dangerous and important hunt that Charlie is on. When he goes out, it’s with the love and tragedy and weight that Ellen’s death had. (Because to this DAY, I don’t think any death scene surpassed the emotional impact of Ellen and Jo’s and I will die on this hill.) So yes, Dean dies protecting HIS CHILD. Because that’s what he deserved. A good long life and a family that he loves, and the ability for his death to be a final sacrifice that is more meaningful to him than words can say because it was to protect his KID, the kid he was lucky enough to raise with Castiel, the angel he loves, in their family Roadhouse after finally being granted free will.

THIS, MY FRIENDS

IS HOW I THINK SUPERNATURAL SHOULD HAVE ENDED.

#tfw #spn alternate ending #sam winchester #dean winchester #destiel #castiel #saileen #ellen harvelle #bobby singer #spn #supernatural #meta #mine

22 notes · View notes

oncethrown · 3 years

Text

SPN Deserved Batter 1: Found Family

Imagine boy who loses his family at 4 years old.

His mother dies in a fire and grief drives his father to be a different man, not a father so much as a commander. His baby brother, who he carried from the fire in his tiny arms even as his mother roasted on the ceiling, is left in his clumsy care as he spends his life moving from motel to motel and school to school.

He never has a relationship, and the couple attempts he makes don’t pan out. He’s too wild. Too unusual. Too dangerous. But it doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t matter that it’s not true, because he’ll always be out of their lives in a couple weeks. A month at the outside.

And then, the little brother he raised, fed, cared for, had to be mother and father to- leaves. Just when they were getting old enough to be peers. Leaves their father and their lifestyle more than he leaves Dean, but it doesn’t feel like it.

And then Dean’s father starts to leave him behind more and more. Splitting up in Montana for a couple weeks. Berating him for missing an easy kill when they go after werewolves together in Oregon and then taking off to deal with a lead on a demon.

He joins forces with other hunters now and then. People who crash his case without a disguise as good or as useful as his. Idiots who only think they know what their doing. Lee Webb, for a while. A friend... or something. But it can’t last.

And then, finally, his father goes on a hunting trip, and he doesn’t hear from him for days, and Dean is so alone, he breaks his promise to himself that he would let Sam go on and live a normal life. And he brings Sam’s life crashing down around him, and goddamn it, he’s a little relieved when it gets Sam back in the car. Back on the road.

They hunt. They hunt for years. and they find themselves at the center of the battle between heaven and hell. They lose their father. They gain an angel.

Their work is dangerous. Their enemies are powerful and merciless, and there is a version of this story where every new friend, ally and supporter dies. Where Sam and Dean only ever have each other to fall back on. Where they push too hard and sacrifice too much and have to watch the people around them die over and over.

But.

There are more things in heaven an earth than they have dreamt of.

They learn that there are people who have been hunters for generations, and not just hunters who were born in fire and tragedy like they were. They find a roadhouse full of people who know the truth. Who work as hard as they do. They aren’t in Nebraska all that often, but it’s a safe place to have a drink and bunk down when they are there. They reconnect with Bobby Singer, who becomes more of a father to them than John ever was, though it’s still hard for Dean to admit it.

Castiel, the angel who Dean hated least, becomes a friend. More than a friend, Almost a brother, Dean thinks. Someone... someone he can love differently than he loves Sam. Someone he, as an adult, as his own person, can choose to care about and take care of.

And there are still worlds left to conquer. Every year there seems to be a bigger threat, more of the world in danger, but every year they have more people to rely on.

To love.

They check in with Jo Harvelle when they are in the Northeast now. She’s mostly going to college, but still hunts here and there.

Gordon... they work with Gordon when they have to. He’s dangerous... but you don’t bring a knife to a gun fight and hunters are not, by and large, cuddly. Gordon is at least more reliable than Bella, who is about as likely to help you as she is to double cross you, and every couple years they always need her too much to say no when she calls.

Jody Mills calls when she knows she needs back up, and Dean and Sam don’t talk about how nice it is to be put up in her guest room and welcomed to her leftovers when they are there.

The nerdy redhead surprises Dean. Charlie, who worms her way into his heart so fast.

He thinks about her, sometimes, even in Purgatory, as he and Benny hunt for Castiel, and Benny stops asking who this angel is to Dean that makes him so important.

When Dean escapes purgatory, but loses Cas, and doesn’t know what to say to Benny, he tries to find her, but lets go when he realizes that she might be the one person he can’t find if they don't want to be found.

Years go by, and it turns out Hunters aren't the only monster hunters. Some hoighty-toighty bunker douche bags tried their hand at it too, and Dean finds himself, suddenly, with a home.

It’s a creepy underground 50′s bunker... but it’s big. It’s even big as it starts to fill up.

Castiel takes the room next to Dean’s. Sam doesn’t say anything when he picks a different wing of the barracks.

When Jo drops out of college again, she comes to stay for a while.

An encounter with spell work and fairies at a Larp Weekend bring Charlie back into the fold, and she grabs another one of the rooms in Sam’s wing. Claire Novak runs away to them more than once.

It’s not as though it’s ever bustling, but it’s not as though it’s quiet. Jack, a child in a teenager’s body and a nearly all powerful being in a tee shirt, certainly keeps things interesting, but even he isn’t the strangest piece of their little compound when Gabriel comes back to life and Rowena, mother of the king of hell have... one bedroom, at least until they swindle, and possibly murder their way into a penthouse someone far away from the midwest. Charlie, after an extremely strange night, starts dating Dorothy from the wizard of Oz, and Sam’s side of the barracks fills up just a little more.

And then, here and there... a monster.

When Garth becomes a werewolf, he doesn’t know where else to stay. When Sam’s kitsune friend from junior high is being hunted, they hide in the bunker. They don’t stay forever, but they retreat there. To Sam and Dean. And Castiel. And Charlie. And whoever else might be a spare bedroom at that point.

Dean doesn’t notice how much he’s changing until Amara brings back his mother.

And suddenly he feels like he has to hide how he talks to and touches Castiel when she’s in the same room. And Charlie wants to talk to him about it, and he doesn’t know how.

He finds himself telling Mary about John, and realizing that when he talks about his life with John... there is nothing else in it.

Motels and monsters.

No learning to make old fashioned to get Cas to try whiskey. No sitting with Charlie at the computer for hours while she patiently explains something that she could do in her sleep. No Rowena smuggling cursed bones into the library when she promised she would stop. No trying to explain Scooby do to Cas, or reading a book that Cas leant him on their very infrequent days off.

And then Sam meets a girl on a hunt. Eileen. And Dean can see how he lights up around her, and the way she smiles at him, and the way people look at Sam and Eileen, and then at him and Castiel, and then anywhere else.

But it’s not the focus of their lives as they have to defeat the men of letters.

and then another dimension opens up, and all of them are confronted with who they could have been. Hard, ransacked versions of themselves.

Dean’s relieved he doesn’t exist in that dimension. He’s starting to think he knows what the version of himself would look like. He thinks it’s probably the version of himself who sold his soul for Sam.

A man he no longer is.

Eventually they win.

Or almost win, because now, after everything, they have to fight god. But they do go home. They call everyone, and everyone starts driving to Kansas.

But Dean goes to Charlie’s room, and he’s ready to talk about it, and she’s happy to hear about it.

And then, even though it’s late, he goes to Cas’s room and he says something he’s barely been letting himself think.

He stays there with Cas. All night.

In the morning, they walk into the kitchen together, where Sam and Eileen are rather conspicuously drinking Bloody Mary’s very slowly, and Charlie and Dorothy are playing footsy under the table and going through some research with Pamela. Bobby is bent over a book and chugging coffee. So is Mary. Jack is eating some kind of sugary cereal the way a cat eats a bread bag tie, hunched over it like he’s worried someone’s going to take it away from him when they realize he isn’t supposed to have it.

Dean sees Cas smile out over the room, and the way that all of them smile back. And he takes Cas’s hand.

It takes time and work and struggle. But they do defeat God. They do win their freedom and their lives back.

All of them.

#SPNDBCC #Dean Winchester #Supernatural #SPN

28 notes · View notes

marril96 · 4 years

Text

Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: An encounter with a homicidal witch forces Rowena to confront painful memories.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

Getting roped into helping Sam and Dean out with a yet another case wasn't how you'd planned to spend your afternoon, but it wasn't as if you were in a position to say no. Rowena, ever the helpful puppy (she resented the remark), said yes before Sam had even finished the question. She was prepared for a job as soon as her phone rang with his name flashing on the screen. So, as her girlfriend, you went with.

In all fairness, Rowena told you you didn't have to go. It seemed like a simple enough job; a witch case, if hex bags left by the victims' bodies were anything to go by. She could handle it without an issue. But you insisted on accompanying her. After all, the two of you had a deal — if one was headed into a possibly dangerous situation, the other was to go with as backup. No ifs. No buts.

The Winchester were well aware the two of you were a package deal. It wasn't an issue. In fact, they welcomed all the help they could get. Even if you had to force yourself into providing it.

The truth of the matter was, you hated hunting jobs. If it were up to you, you and Rowena would cut all contact with the brothers and their friends and live out the rest of your days holed up in your little home, leaving only on occasion for world-exploring vacations. It wasn't that you didn't trust your girlfriend; you did, sometimes more than you trusted yourself. You knew she could handle things on her own. She had, after all, done so for centuries, and would for many more to come. She was one of the most powerful witches around. If there was anyone who could wipe the floor with humans and monsters — even archangels — alike, it was her.

But the prophecy of Rowena's death at Sam's hands was still there. The two were friends (even if Rowena's pride opposed using the word), but accidents could still happen. Just because he didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to kill her, didn't mean he couldn't do it. You felt much safer being there with her than letting her out all on her own.

Sam was as good a man as a hunter could be. He treated Rowena well. He seemed to care about her as much as she cared about him. He was kind to her. Respected her. Valued her skills. Never talked down to her or mistreated her. Those days were behind them. Were it not for the prophecy, and, truth be told, for the fact that, as powerful as she was, Rowena always managed to get herself into trouble of some sort, you would have no issue staying behind.

So you put up with it. You bit your pride and helped out to the best of your ability. The sooner things were dealt with, the better; four helping hands were certainly better — faster — than two.

As far as cases went, this one was fairly easy. The witch was quite powerful, had done a good job at masking his presence, but it didn't take Rowena long to track him down. Latching onto a source of powerful magic was easy enough, and so was pinpointing its location. With her power unbound, there weren't many things that presented an issue.

This witch may have possessed great power, but he was no match for Rowena.

The house he was residing in was quite lovely. It was big, luxurious, built for power, for privilege, for envy of guests and passersby. It looked no different than the other houses in the neighborhood. This was a place of wealth, of power, and it showed.

As expected, the witch had protected his home well; it took Rowena half an hour to disable the wardings and magical booby traps he'd installed. Or the majority of them, at the very least. She warned you and the Winchesters to be careful. Sneaking into a witch's house was tricky business. Just because the coast looked clear didn't mean it was. For all you knew, the entire damn house was a giant trap.

Sneaking in was easy. Far too easy for this sort of monster. Which should have been a clue, a warning for you to be careful, but, instead, you let your mind wander to your home. Your warm, safe home. Where you would go soon, after all this was over, and you and Rowena would spend the evening cuddling in bed and teasing each other. Just a few more minutes, and you would be in the Impala, then at the bus station, and then at home. Sweet, sweet home.

Were you not absent-minded, maybe you would have noticed the witch's approaching footsteps, light as a ghost's. Maybe you would have noticed him sneaking up on Sam and Dean and hissing out a spell to throw them against the wall and incapacitate them. Maybe you would have noticed his hands reaching for you before finding yourself tangled up in his arms that held you against him in a firm, snake-like grip.

He was tall. Not quite as tall as Sam, but close enough. His body was lean, all muscle, thick and strong. He smelled like a strange mixture of spices — or rather herbs — and cologne; witch and man in one. Before you could utter a spell, his hand was over your mouth, fingers digging into your skin, manicured nails biting crescents.

"Don't even think about it, Rowena," he said as Rowena mouthed a spell, English accent deep in his voice. Posh, almost charming — almost, for every word of his oozed malice, cruelty. He sounded pleasant, but there was a note of something dark, something dangerous hiding behind it, creeping underneath the surface like a prowler. "I don't need incantations to get my magic working. I just have to think it, and…" Following his will, a painting slid from a wall. Fell down into a heap of splintered wood and glass. He chuckled, smug, too pleased with himself for his own good. "I'm not an animal."

Good for you, you thought, wishing so bad you could say it straight to his face. You get a fucking gold star.

Rowena swallowed. Held her head up like the queen that she was, proud, powerful. Not losing her cool for a single beat. "Let her go."

It was a command that left no room for argument, though you had no doubt the witch would try. Something told you the man had always been a rebel. Even when it worked against hs favor.

"What would be the fun in that?" His hold on you tightened. You groaned, uncomfortable, struggling to breathe. "I've got to say, you've changed quite a bit, Rowena."

Rowena swallowed. Sucked in a breath and put on that face you knew well — one of deception, of protection. A mask to shield herself from the world, from the danger that lurked around. From unpleasant memories she wished would stop plaguing her mind.

So she knew this witch. Why hadn't she said anything? Why had she kept/ it a secret?

"You remember me, don't you?" the witch said. You couldn't see his face, but you could picture a smirk as big as his pride adorning it. "It's been — what? Two hundred years? That's quite a while, but in sure you remember me somewhere in that clever little head of yours."

Rowena forced a smile. "Like you said, it's been a while."

"Really? I never forgot you."

Her eyes briefly connected with yours before falling to her feet. Color drained from her face, her usually rosy cheeks washed out, white as old, tattered sheets. Her fists clenched, knuckles taut, pale from the pressure.

The witch licked his lips, and your stomach turned with disgust. He said, "I remember you quite well. I admit, it was a bit hard to recognize you at first. You've gone through quite a change. What is it kids call it these days? A glow up. You've had a glow up."

Rowena avoided his eyes.

He continued, "Still, wasn't too hard to figure out it's you. See, I knew you were hunting me. I know all about you. Well, all about these two chuckle heads—" he gestured to Sam and Dean, who were glued to the floor, magic holding them down despite their resistance, "—but through my research on them I stumbled across you. You've done a good job at keeping a low profile. Gotta hand you that. But you've still got neighbors, and they love to talk."

Great. As if spreading rumors around wasn't enough; now your neighbors had snitched on you to an unhinged witch. Maybe a curse on the neighborhood was in order. There were a few you wanted to try out, if you managed to get out of this mess unscattered.

"I'm a bit disappointed, though," the witch said. "I mean, really — hunters? You're working with hunters? Seriously?" He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "And here I thought you were running from them. How the tides have turned." A beat, then, "At least your girlfriend's cute." His fingers tapped your cheek. "Does she know about us?"

You frowned, confused. What did he mean?

Rowena swallowed.

"She doesn't!" The witch all but beamed. "You didn't tell her? And you still brought her here? How could you, Rowena? Don't you think she deserves to know?"

You groaned, trying to get curses and insults out. Hating that you couldn't.

"I know, right?" he said condescendingly. "I'd be mad, too."

You weren't mad — not at Rowena, at least. Whatever it was that had happened between them, you were sure she had good reasons to keep it hidden. She was a flawed creature, bratty, dramatic, but she was a good girlfriend. She didn't lie to you. Would never do anything — not on purpose — to harm you or your relationship.

"What was it Catriona called you? Raggedy Ann?" The witch pretended to ponder on it. "Not so raggedy anymore, are you?"

Catriona Loughlin? He knew the Loughlins?

"I knew you were hot. She and her brothers laughed at me when I told them about us, but there's proof right here—" he pointed at Rowena; at her curls that fell down her shoulders like streams of silky fire; at her white blouse with one button undone, leaving just enough for a taste of naughty thoughts; at her dress pants and pumps, which teased imagination, let it run wild "—I was right. You are hot. When you take a bath."

Rowena flinched as if struck. Grit her teeth. Squeezed her fingers into fists so hard the skin of her knuckles turned white as the bone underneath it.

"Catriona told me I should've fucked a pig instead. Would've been cleaner." The witch shrugged. "Maybe so, but I didn't really mind the filth so much. It was disgusting, yes, but you more than made up for it. Y'know, I think you're one of the best I ever had. I can say that without shame now." He licked his lips. Closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the memory. "You were exquisite."

"Motherfucker!" you exclaimed — or tried to for it came out as a distorted mumble. You son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill you! If only you could say it. If only you could scream it, loud and clear, straight in his face as your magic gnawed at his skin, tore him apart from the inside, fueled by the rage that boiled with you. A rage that twisted and coiled and burned like a volcano nearing an eruption. That begged to be let free to swallow him, to obliterate him.

You pushed against his arms, tried to tear free. Tried to sink your teeth into the soft, meaty flesh of his palm. But no matter how hard you fought, he kept you in place with ease. His laugh, a mocking, taunting melody, rang in your ears.

"Easy, girl. No need to be jealous. It was a long time ago. But do tell, is she still excellent in bed?"

"Fuck you!" Another mumble.You hated it. Hated yourself for being so weak to fight him off, to free yourself from his deadly grip. I'll kill you. I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you, you sick, twisted mother—

"I'll take that as a yes."

Rowena swallowed a lump in her throat. Held her head up, brave face on. "You know what they say. Why fix something that isn't broken?"

"True," the witch agreed. "True. She's a lucky girl."

At least one thing he was right about. He had no idea how much; how lucky you were, how privileged, to be with Rowena.

"God, you were so great. So tiny, but so skilled. I thought you'd just do it to get it over with, but you enjoyed it as well. I saw it in your eyes. You were having so much fun."

She flashed that smile that feigned nonchalance and hid the turmoil, the utmost hurt coiling inside of her. "It's a shame you didn't put in nearly half the effort. It was an encounter for mutual benefit. I'd done my part. You…" She clicked her tongue. "There was plenty left to be desired."

The witch's hands stiffened around you. His heart jumped, the vein on his neck thudding loudly against your scalp. "Such a tease, aren't you?" he said in nonchalance you would have bought as genuine had you not felt his body's reaction to Rowena's comments. Everyone had a weakness. He might have pretended otherwise, but he wasn't invincible. Magic couldn't protect him from wounded pride.

"I'm serious, Janus," Rowena said, and meant it. No more pretend. No more lies. "I've had plenty of partners, and none have been as… inexperienced as you. Was I your first? You poor dear. I'd say it was an honour, but it truly wasn't."

Janus gulped down a lump that blossomed in his throat. "You're real funny." Rowena shrugged innocently. He looked down at you. "Is she always this funny?"

She's absolutely hilarious, you wanted to say. Instead, what came out was a gargle of words that didn't resemble your uttered "Fuck you" in the slightest, though you were pretty sure the look on your face have away exactly what you said.

"I do believe one thing," he said. "You've had plenty of lovers. Even back then you reeked of usage — along with general filth. You'd given birth, hadn't you? I could tell." He winked. "Trust me."

Rowena, bless her, took it in stride. "So you say."

"I'm not lying."

He was. You could feel it.

"Okay," Rowena said with a shrug.

He grit his teeth. "I'm serious."

"As am I."

"You're more confident than you used to be. That little ragdoll that showed up at my door was weak. Her favourite word was 'please.'" He smirked. "God, I loved that 'please.'"

"She's had centuries of growth," Rowena said. "You're right in that she was weak. She wasn't proficient at using her wits. But, as you've already established, she's changed. She's smarter now. Have you heard of a wee thing called distraction?"

"Wha—"

The word fell silent in Janus's mouth as a gunshot, loud, deafening, echoed. Blood gushed in a spray of crimson, staining your shoulder and cheek. His hold of you loosened and you instantly wriggled out, pushing him off. His body collapsed like a sack of potatoes, limp, motionless. Red seeped out of/out his temple, staining the fine, white carpet underneath him. Filling it up, making it swell with it. His eyes were wide open; they stared up, into the ceiling, into open space. Into Heaven and Hell themselves.

"You okay?" Sam asked, a gun clutched tightly in his hands.

"I-yes," you stammered. Your ears were ringing, but you weren't injured. You weren't harmed. You swallowed a large breath. "That was… intense."

"Good shot, Sammy," Dean said.

Sam nodded with an awkward smile. His eyes shifted to Rowena. "Are you okay?"

A flicker of pain crossed her face, but she quickly smoothened her expression into one of pride, of utmost dignity. "Never better."

The brothers bought it. You knew better, but decided to keep it to yourself. There would be time for talking later, when you were alone, and, preferably, away from a corpse.

"Are you sure you're okay, Y/N?" Rowena asked, and that was sincere. She looked you over in concern. A mother cat appraising her young, checking them for injuries.

"I'm fine." You squeezed her hand in emphasis. Her fingers tightened around yours, held tight. An unspoken promise that she was there, that, no matter how hard it was or how badly it hurt, you could count on her.

You appreciated it. You needed her. And, more important than that, she needed you. Parts of her past were a touchy subject; to have it dredged up in front of everyone so casually, used as a weapon against her… It had to hurt. She pretended it didn't, but you knew her better than that.

The brothers had taken care of the body in a matter of minutes, and it wasn't long before the four of you were on the road, heading straight for the Bunker. The ride was silent to an almost uncomfortable degree. Dean made a few quips here and there, annoying Sam. Finally, sensing the gloom in the air, he put on some music you weren't a fan of, but you still appreciated something to focus on. Something other than that horrid man's hands holding you in place as his wicked tongue tore into Rowena. It was the last thing you wanted to think about.

You laid your head on her lap for the reminder of the trip. Instinctively, she started caressing your cheek. Rubbing your shoulder. Running her fingers over your skin in invisible doodles. A little game you appreciated, you craved more than ever. I cherish you, every touch said. I love you. Your heart swelled with reciprocation.

Not many words were exchanged at the Bunker, either. The two of you wanted to head home, but the brothers convinced you to stay for the night. It was late, they said. You were both tired and needed rest. It was a hard fact to argue with, so you accepted.

The room they gave you was small and cosy. Nothing special in terms of decor, but good enough. Perfectly acceptable for a sleepover. It wouldn't be fair to complain; you were guests, after all. The brothers were doing you a favor.

You'd just gotten out of a shower, clad in one of Sam's old shirts that fell to your knees like a dress, when Rowena said, "I didn't enjoy it."

She was on the bed, in an oversized shirt herself, having had her shower right before.

"What?"

"Janus. I didn't—I didn't enjoy being with him. I had to."

"You don't have to ex—"

"You deserve to know the kind of woman you lay in bed with every night." Redness rimmed her eyes. She blinked the tears away, willed them back. "After the Loughlins threw me out, I went in search of a new hideout. The British Men of Letters were after me. I was weak and scared. I'd heard rumors of another powerful witch residing nearby, so I sought him out."

A nervous smile flickered over her mouth.

"At first, like the Loughlins, he wanted nothing to do with me. I wasn't the kind of witch he was interested in helping. But when I made him the same offer, he accepted."

"Rowena—"

She shook her head, cutting you off. "It was horrid, but I did what I had to do to survive."

You knew that. She'd done plenty of things to ensure her survival. Some horrible, others less so. What mattered was that she lived. You couldn't fault her for that.

"It only happened once," she said. "I was out of there as soon as I felt it was safe."

"You haven't done anything wrong." People did all kinds of things when they were desperate. Stupid things. Reckless things. Heartbreaking things. That didn't make them bad. It just made them human.

That was what Rowena was — human. Underneath all her protective walls and the magic coursing through her veins, she was still a woman. A human being that felt and hurt and bled just like anyone else.

A moment passed in silence. Then, "He's not the only one I did it with. There were others."

You'd figured as much. Three years ago when she'd first told you about the Loughlins, you suspected there was more to the story. That there were more times where she was desperate and scared and alone, and she had no other way to survive than to bargain her body. You never brought it up; it wasn't your place to ask about such intimate, painful details. It wasn't your business. The last thing you wanted was for her to think you were judging her.

"You have to understand, I wasn't always this powerful. Sometimes I just needed to survive, and I did."

"I know," you said firmly, with all the conviction you could muster. Your eyes found hers, locked with them. "I understand."

"You do?"

"Yeah." You settled next to her on the bed. Reached for her hand. "You didn't do anything wrong. They took advantage of you."

A good person would have helped her without asking for anything in return. A good person would have given her food and shelter, exchanged a few kind words with her, listened to her plight. Would have befriended her, protected her instead of taking what they wanted. What the circumstances had forced her to offer.

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be?" You knew she had a past. As far as things went, this wasn't the worst she'd done. Not even close. "I don't care what happened before. It's not like you cheated on me."

That prompted her to chuckle. "I suppose not."

You smiled. "You're my girl. I love you no matter what."

You loved her when she was nothing but a wicked witch who loved no one but herself. You loved her when she killed people, innocent and guilty alike. You loved her when she ruined and destroyed everything in her path. When she thought of you as nothing but an accessory, a poor, wee witch following her around like a puppy, desperate for her to teach her the ways of magic. You loved her when she changed, and when she suffered, and when she tossed and turned in the night as nightmares plagued her dreams.

You loved her through everything, and had taught her to love you back.

Her past couldn't change that.

Rowena's cheeks flushed with color. "What have I done to deserve you?"

"You're you." That was more than good enough for you.

A tear spilled down her cheek. "Bloody sap."

"Hey, you started it!" you teased.

She scoffed. You shrugged, nonchalant.

She squeezed your hand. After a moment of silence, she said, "I love you, as well."

"Who's the sap now?" She shot you a glare that had to have killed before, and you laughed. "You're so precious."

And you loved her for it. So much. Too much.

The past be damned.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @hellbentredhead @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @theeasterbilby @midnight-lestrange @oster-hagen @impala-1979

#rowena #rowena macleod #rowena x reader #spn #supernatural #fanfiction #my fics

65 notes · View notes

potteresque-ire · 4 years

Text

Is Cho Chang a Racist Stereotype? - [2] Her House

Another very long post (this time Confucius comes to say hello). My thoughts are under the cut.

Once again, this isn’t a JKR discussion. This is my 2nd post on whether I think it’s fair to call Cho Chang a racist stereotype. The 1st one is here.

My short answer is still no.

Another critique I’ve seen of Cho Chang’s portrayal is that she was a Ravenclaw, which fit into the “smart Asian” stereotype.

But what, exactly, is “Ravenclaw smart” and “Asian smart”? I think it’s worth investigating. Intelligence comes in many forms, and the allegation would only be valid if the two kinds of “smart” are equivalent.

Here’s what the books and JKR, via Pottermore, have said about “Ravenclaw smart”:

“if you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind;”

“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.”

“…our people are the most individual – some might even call them eccentrics. But geniuses are often out of step with ordinary folk…”

"Most of the greatest wizarding inventors and innovators were in our house…”

The day-to-day illustration of “Ravenclaw smart” was the answering of riddles to enter the common room. A good answer was “well-reasoned”, and it was known that the door would refuse to open until such an answer was provided, which sometimes led to long discussions outside the common room by the locked-out students. Another manifestation of “Ravenclaw smart” was described as going “full-nerd” on a subject that wasn’t necessarily practical or popular (ovomancy was the example given on Pottermore).

Since “wit” was such a heavily used word in Ravenclaw’s description, I looked up its definition as well.

* Intelligence and the ability to think quickly (Cambridge dictionary) * Mental sharpness and inventiveness; keen intelligence; a natural aptitude for using words and ideas in a quick and inventive way to create humour (Google) * The ability to relate seemingly disparate things so as to illuminate or amuse (Merriam Webster) * Wit is the ability to use words or ideas in an amusing, clever, and imaginative way. (Collins)

My understanding of “Ravenclaw smart” from this info is: the ability to connect dots freely and nimbly. Social norms and expectations are noted, but happily disregarded if they get in the way. “Ravenclaw smart” is by nature argumentative and open-ended. It expects the dot-connecting to lead to places, but doesn’t have a specific place in mind; all endpoints are valid and welcomed as long as they’re logically sound. The strength of “Ravenclaw smart” is it leads to revolutionary innovations; its tendency to unbridle itself from social needs and expectations, however, can lead to amoral/immoral behaviour (Lockhart). The wisdom from “Ravenclaw smart” is also in danger of being ignored or misunderstood when its owner makes insufficient effort to make it comprehensible, or accessible to others (Luna, and likely, Rowena Ravenclaw.)

Those who’ve studied under an East Asian education system (especially in the 90s), or those who’re familiar with those systems, probably know by now where this discussion is leading to.

“Ravenclaw smart” isn’t “Asian smart”. It’s … about the opposite of Asian smart.

What is “Asian smart”? Outside this discussion, any kind of intelligence. But here, I’ll restrict it to the kind of smartness that leads to the racist allegation, the kind of Westerners typically associate with East Asian students (such as Cho Chang, who, for the sake of simplicity, I’ll assume is Chinese from this point on; however, the arguments will likely still stand if she was, for example, Korean, for reasons that will be clear later on). The kind of smartness that is good at math, that gets the highest scores in exams and seems to understand everything. Never asks questions, never makes trouble.

"Asian smart” sounds great. But what if I suggest the following “dark sides” to it?

1) Good at math: with practice, lower level maths are likely to require the least reasoning among school subjects, with their unambiguous, close-ended answers. A child who has done 7x9 enough times no longer need to calculate or think through the logic of their answer. They write down what they’ve memorised by repetition — 63 — and get full score.

2) High scorer: does everything as told. Prioritise the wishes of authority (teachers, parents) above everything else.

3) Seems to understand everything, never asks questions: views knowledge as “model answers” to be regurgitated in exams. Whether it makes sense doesn’t matter.

These are very cynical takes, aren’t they? I’ve cast in these students in a very negative light.

But what if this negative light isn’t negative at all if these students have stayed in the land of their ancestors? What if these “cynical takes” were considered virtues for the budding Chinese scholars of old?

What if “Asian smart” is purely a consequence of history and culture?

First of all, if you ask “Asian smart” students and they’re honest with you, most would tell you that their smartness isn’t the product of miracles or extra brain juice. Some would say it’s not even intelligence. It is the direct result of extra hours spent at the desk.

What is their motivation? Are Chinese children simply born to be extra hardworking?

Perhaps it’s their so-called “tiger moms”? If then, are Chinese moms born more … feline?

The answers, as you may expect, are no, Chinese aren’t born any different from other races. Their drive to study can largely be explained by an ancient, nation-wide exam system known as the imperial examination system (Ke-Ju, 科舉), plus a dude with a name of Confucius.

Many are aware that Chinese have long considered scholastic aptitude as important. But how long is long? The answer: 1.4 millennia. The imperial examination system, or Ke-Ju, began in 605 AD and while the system had evolved over time, the gist of it was this: students participated in locals exams and the “winners” moved up to the county, then provincial levels etc, until the students who’d won all previous exams sat for the final one in the capital palace, at times proctored by the Emperor, where the grand winners would be decided. The Ke-Ju system was essential in shaping Chinese’s attitude towards academic achievements, because the final top 3 winners, regardless of birth, would be hired by the Imperial Court (+ in some cases, get to marry a princess!).

Ancient Chinese studied and studied and studied for that reason; Ke-Ju was one of the very few social ladders available to commoners, who mostly lived in poverty. The Chinese folklore-scape has therefore been filled with “inspirational” stories about how people overcame exceptionally challenging studying conditions (like this one) to become successful in some way.

How, exactly, does Ke-Ju shape the traditional Chinese view towards studying and education?

1) Historically, Chinese views studying as a means to a better life. The pursuit of knowledge was secondary. The modern analogy to studying hard in ancient China is working three part-time jobs to pay the mortgage for a house, and there is, in fact, a famous Chinese idiom that reflects this: 書中自有黃金屋 (“In the books, there is a golden house”). According to the poem (勸學詩) where the idiom came from (written by an Emperor, by the way: 宋真宗, ~ 1000 BCE), other things found in books included high wages paid in food, beauties, chariots and horses. All practical stuff.

2) Because of 1), getting high scores, or “winning” the exams, was seen as the paramount goal of studying. Far less emphasis was put on understanding the exam material. The teachers of ancient Chinese schools (私塾) were known for doing little explaining; instead, they made recite passages and expected them to figure out the meanings by themselves later. The attitude that scores are everything was further fuelled by the fact that the Emperor had the final say on the result of Ke-Ju — the Emperor who’d most probably claimed the throne by genetics and was not always the most intelligent or knowledgable. While the ability to formulate well-researched and well-reasoned answers helped tremendously, the most important skill for the final Ke-Ju winner was, therefore, the ability to guess what the Emperor wanted to hear, and sometimes, what they wanted to see (there were instances where the Emperor swapped the rankings because they found the original victor too ugly).

ie. The most important skill was to know the Emperor’s Answer, and to be able to frame it as the winner’s own perspective even if the winner didn’t, in reality, believe in a single word of it.

3) The tradition of having an “Emperor’s Answer” means its modern equivalent, having an “one and only” model answer, have remained the norm in education systems in many Chinese-speaking communities. Many educators have asked for reforms, argued that model answers discourage independent thinking and creativity, but teachers have also been trained on model answers and they’re often unsure of their own opinions, and at times, fearful that they’ll pass on a “wrong” perspective to their students. The latter is especially true in places under authoritarian rule, where school lessons must follow closely the regime’s propaganda (which can be vastly different from year to year).

You may wonder then: but certainly, the students would revolt. How could children learn in such a stifling environment for so long?

This is where Confucius (孔丘, 551-478 BC) comes in. The education system is only a slice of a culture where authority is not to be questioned, where silence is seen as a virtue even among the youngest of children.

Many may know Confucius to be a philosopher, but he was also a political advisor and not a very popular one. I’ve half-jokingly summed up his slogan as “Make China Great Again”, as he lamented his era for having lost the social etiquette and order of several centuries before, and he was set on bringing them back. He researched on rites and rituals that were already old for his time, postulating that every detail of how people behaved around each other would affect social harmony. Social order, he believed, could be achieved by people respecting and obeying their elders, not only in their thoughts but also in their day-to-day behaviour, which was to be bound with a set of intricate rules that dictated their word choices, actions and even postures according to the situation and kinship between the interacting individuals (a fun video here showing a Confucian rite, including the sheer variety of Confucian bows). The elders would, in return, take care of those with less authority than they had, share with them their wisdom.

Confucius also believed that harmony of the world could be achieved by self-discipline from the base level of the society to the top. In this “discipline pyramid”, individuals sat at the bottom. The discipline of families came above it, in which elder generations of each family reined in the rebellious younger ones, made each family a true unit where its members were unified in thoughts and actions. The nation (government) then exerted its authority on families and cured their conflicts — to drive this point home, the term 父母官 has remained in use in China today, which likens the government officials (官) to parents (父母) and constituents to children who should listen to their parents (imagine someone likening Boris Johnson, or Donald Trump, as your father). Finally, the world, with the Emperor as its ruler, smothers the insurgences among nations to achieve the ultimate order and harmony. (修身、齊家、治國、平天下).

Confucius did put a big asterisk in his theory. For this “discipline pyramid” to work, the asterisk said, the Emperor who’d establish the final world order must be a good one. The problem was: most Emperors thought they were pretty good. Confucius’ philosophy appealed to them because the Emperor sat at the pinnacle of this power structure, and as each level ruled over the one below, the lowest level — the individual commoners — had so many constraints piled on them that their individuality was stripped. This made governing much easier.

And so, while Confucius’ political theories were not particularly popular during his lifetime, Confucianism became the official school of philosophy for Chinese imperial courts after ~100 BC. China’s immense power in the ancient world meant Confucianism also became the prominent school of philosophy in its sphere of influence, which included, among others, the modern nations of Japan, S. Korea and Vietnam, all of which also held their own versions of Ke-Ju.

(Hence, this post would very likely remain valid if Cho Chang was Korean.)

In addition to locating talents among commoners, the Ke-Ju system further cemented Confucianism as the “proper” school of thought because it required the students to learn Confucian texts. These students, who would also become disseminators of knowledge outside the Imperial Court, would bring Confucianism to the commoners who’d practise it as well, as a display of cultured upbringing, in the hopes that their descendants would one day know it well enough to enter the Imperial Court. The discipline pyramid soon infiltrated every aspect of Chinese culture, and Confucianism became Imperial China’s tool for reinforcing social hierarchy and a social stabilizer. It remained revered in all levels of the Chinese society until, during the Cultural Revolution (1966-76), the Red Guards, with the blessings of Mao Ze-Dong, made an all out-attack on Confucian values and while remnants of them have survived in China’s social fabric, they’re largely in tatters (As a result, the best places to observe the legacy of Confucianism nowadays are in Japan, S. Korea and Taiwan.)

Back to the “Asian smart”. “Asian smart” was an impression built from students who were (children of) recent immigrants from Confucianism-influenced communities. Students who’d been educated in the tradition of those who’d sat in the ancient schools, their backs ramrod straight and spoken only when called, their mouths opening only to satisfy the teachers’ requests because teachers were the authority in the classroom and never to be questioned. Students who’d expected an Emperor’s Answer to every exam question, the answer that was, always, the final word. Students who’d studied hard because golden houses could be found in the books.

This “Asian smart” is as different as can be from “Ravenclaw smart”. Asian smart is quiet and unquestioning, while Ravenclaw smart challenges and argues. Asian smart views knowledge as a servant of society, while Ravenclaw smart sees knowledge, and the pursuit thereof, as lording over social expectations. Asian smart is about reinforcing social order while Ravenclaw smart is about breaking the mould. Asian smart has groomed the establishment for over a thousand years while Ravenclaw smart has nurtured eccentrics.

Of note, this disparity between the two “smarts” doesn’t mean one is superior to another. Our current pandemic has made a case for Confucian collectivism; individuals in E. Asian countries have shown themselves to be more willing to sacrifice personal freedoms and aesthetics for the sake of their communities, more comfortable at obeying new rules despite the questions of their need have yet be answered satisfactorily by science, and the benefits of these attitudes have been reflected in the case and death counts. The pandemic has also reminded us of the importance of knowledge that serves society (for example, epidemiological research, vaccine development, contact tracing), even if it’s not always the most exciting. Healthcare is a discipline that requires a “no ifs and buts, no matter how well-reasoned” attitude towards certain rules (how to put on and remove PPEs, for example).

Anyway, I digressed! The conclusion I have, after so many words, is this: Cho Chang being assigned Ravenclaw isn’t racist stereotyping, as some have alleged. I can appreciate where the allegation comes from. The common association with intelligence aside, many sorting tests have also tied academic achievements to Ravenclaw, even though Ravenclaws were never described as book smart in the series. But the allegation doesn’t hold up well after an investigation into the way Ravenclaw House was written, and the kind of smartness Cho Chang was expected to have if it was, indeed, race-based.

It doesn’t mean, I’d like to note, that some Asians aren’t being unfairly judged because parts of our society still hold the false impression that our racial group are somehow born to excel in academics or any work where maths are involved. I understand—I truly do—the frustrations of having one’s accomplishments belittled, attributed to a quirk in the DNA that doesn’t exist. I’ve, too, had to certify that my Mom is 100% human, free of the tiger too many times.

But the HP books cannot be blamed for that, and the longer the blame is placed on something that doesn’t deserve it, the longer the focus, and effort is shifted away from the actual problem and its potential solutions. The time and words spent on such “call-outs” can be better spent, I believe, by explaining how the misconception of “smart Asians” can affect real people like you and me.

And like Cho Chang, perhaps, if we love to think about the HP world. If her classmates wondered why she wasn’t the top of her class for her year, why she wasn’t famously book-smart like Hermione Granger to win them some house points. Why did she sign up for Quidditch? Why would any Asian, never mind a tiny, fragile E. Asian girl like her, even think about touching sports? Shouldn’t she be studying? Learning advanced arithmancy even though their OWLS were still a year away?

And Cho would come back to the common room hours later, flushed with sweat and smiling, and announced that she’d made seeker.

#pie metas #cho chang #ravenclaw

67 notes · View notes

awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat · 4 years

Text

Supernatural and Good Omens Crossover

“Hey, Cas!” Dean shouted, a strange excitement clouding his voice (and judgement). Sam and Dean locked eyes for a moment, and Sam could’ve sworn for that brief second, he saw the corner of Dean’s mouth beginning to form a small smile. “Cas! You comin’ or what?!”

Castiel entered the bunker’s hall to see Sam and Dean standing in front of the table, a bowl perched hastily, surrounded by some very common ingredients for spells. A virgins blood, the bone of a saint, goat liver... you get the gist.

As Cas edged forward, a blinding light shot up from the bowl, forming a beam-like shape right next to it. “Dean,” Cas said gruffly, and so very tiredly, “what are you doing?”

“Hey, c’mon man,” Dean replied, pouting, “you can clearly see our own personal witch Sammy has the spell book. Not me.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, causing both Cas and Sam to simultaneously roll their eyes.

“We got him,” Sam spoke finally, much to Dean’s content, and further, to Cas’ dismay, mostly because Castiel knew exactly what Dean was doing and he was very much, as the youth say, done now.

Cas recalled a recent incident about the fight he had with Dean. It was late and Dean had just come back from a very exhausting demon hunt, which had turned out to be quite disastrous, what with all the involvement of Hell Hounds.

Sam had gone to bed early that day, saying that he’d catch up on some research to help beat Chuck, but Cas and Dean both knew that whatever Sam was catching up on, it wasn’t research. Dean could hear dialogues sometimes, coming from Sam’s room. Most often, it was “Title of your sex tape”, which always intrigued Dean very much, and googling it turned out to be a very bad idea.

So, Cas and Dean were relaxing in the kitchen, sharing a bottle of whiskey, talking about everything and nothing. Dean suddenly started talking about how Crowley had turned out to be not such a bad guy for a demon. Then Dean thought about how Heaven, Hell, the Empty and the Purgatory were all in utter chaos, which led his train of thoughts towards resurrecting Crowley. Cas had made a mental note that day: late nights, whiskey, demon hunts and exhausting days always gave Dean the stupidest, most idiotic ideas of all time.

“Sammy can bring him back,” Dean had said, to which Cas was certain he had put up quite an argument but the fight turned slightly vicious and both Cas and Dean spent the following week shooting daggers at each other. Cas eventually forgot what he had said, but Dean stood by his statement.

This was the reason why Sam and Dean had been trying to bring back Crowley for several weeks now; trying different spells, different ingredients, different places and hell, one time, different clothes too (if you must know, Dean insisted that they wear a black suit. Yes, it had been a long day and Dean was down two glasses of Whiskey; why do you ask?). Everytime it didn’t work, Dean would spend days on end in his room, eating nothing but stale pizza, watching reruns of The X-Files. Cas was worried it would happen again.

“Cas? You there, buddy?” Dean pushed Cas back to the present with a small but sturdy tap on his shoulder. “We got him, Cas, we got him.”

Cas tilted his head in confusion and frowned, then looked at Sam, who nodded in agreement. They all focused on the bowl in front of them as the light grew warmer and brighter, until a figure began materialising from the beam.

Crowley opened his eyes to see himself in a strange place, a place he’d never seen before, nor considered running away to. Three men stood in front of him, tall and very well built, wearing an absurd amount of flannel. Crowley looked to his left to see a blinding light, and for a second, he thought he was in Heaven again, with that purple-eyed monster.

“Which poor sucker are you wearing as a meatsuit, Crowley?” The man with the scruffy, short, light hair said.

“Wait, wait, what? Meatsuit? Don’t be stupid--” Crowley sat up straight, looking around frantically, he said, “what the hell did you do with Aziraphale? Where is he?”

“Uh, Dean,” Cas began, clearly suspicious, but Dean cut him off.

“Just hold on to your horses for a second, Cas, let me handle this.”

Cas sighed.

“WHERE IS HE? And, and, did you just say Crowley? Nobody, in all of six thousand years, has ever called me “Cr-ow-ley”.” Crowley spoke angrily, then in exasperation.

“Where’s who?” Sam said, understanding something was definitely off.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley hissed, but it wasn’t an angry hiss, it was more of a habitual, slurring-of-words-hiss.

“Who’s he, your side chick?” Dean joked, but by now he was certain that whoever this person was, it was not Crowley. Sure, he had the accent. And if Crowley had been more focused on looking like an overdramatic sass queen, then maybe the black attire too. But this man, or whatever he was, he was not Crowley.

The blinding light grew brighter still, flashing an almost heavenly glow now, as another figure materialised from the beam.

The figure was more angelic than any form Castiel had seen. Michael could never. Cas could feel the figure’s aura deep inside him, resonating with his own grace, a soft humming of something divine.

“Oh, my, you seem to have caught us in quite a compromising position,” the heavenly figure said, his voice lilted, and apparently apologetic.

“You two are holding hands?” Dean spoke before he could stop himself. “If you think that’s compromising, boy do I have news for you.” Dean subsequently made a mental note to never talk again.

“Well I grew impatient and--” Before the figure in all shades of beige could complete his sentence, the man calling himself Crowley jumped to his feet.

“Angel! Where were you?” Crowley had gathered his senses and he was not going to let his angel go anywhere again. “Aziraphale, you gave me quite a fright, you bastard.”

“Wait, can someone explain to me what is happening?” Sam said, his hands raised, angel blade in one and holy water in the other.

“Is that...that’s holy water.” Crowley mellowed down, a frown making its way up his face.

“Now, that isn’t very kind of you, sir. There is absolutely no need to bring in weapons. That would be simply preposterous!” Aziraphale, replied calmly, miracling away the weapons from the tall man’s hands. This seemed to cause a chain reaction, making more weapons surface. Now all three men were clad with some sort of weaponry; very nifty ones too.

“There is,” Aziraphale began again, more sternly this time, “simply no reason to be feral, dear boys.”

“If you’re wondering, I am Crowley. Crow-ley. I am a demon; didn’t fall, though; sauntered vaguely below. And this is Aziraphale. Now boys, as much as I’d like to stay here and make your lives miserable by, I dunno, replacing all the real bacon with vegetarian bacon, I’d rather wrap this up quickly. We just dealt with an apocalypse and I have the alarm set for a decade of sleeping. And trust me, you don’t want to wait for Aziraphale to start with his magic tricks.”

Dean made a face at the thought of vegetarian bacon but quickly got over it, concentrating instead on the fact that this was Crowley too. Crow-ley, apparently.

“So, you’re not Fergus? You mother’s not Rowena? God Dammit Sammy, what’d you do?”

Sam looked as confused as everyone right now, but he could’ve sworn he had called Crowley from this universe. Something must’ve gone wrong.

“Just give us a moment to talk,” Sam said to the angel and the demon, and turned to Cas and Dean.

“And no monkey business,” Dean added, causing Sam to roll his eyes in disappointment again.

“So, my dear, before we go back, don’t you think it would be wonderful if one could, you know, miracle the one with light hair and the one with the trenchcoat together? I would, but it has become a little--” Aziraphale began suggestively, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“What? Angel, they are just friends! Like us,” Crowley replied.

“My dear, we are married,” Aziraphale sighed, deadpanning.

“Wait, we are?! Since when?” Crowley screamed, obviously taken by surprise.

“Since you went to talk to Holmes, quite an interesting chap, about your secret admirer?”

Crowley shook his head, still confused.

“We got married the next day, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed again.

Crowley shook his head yet again, much to Aziraphale’s disbelief.

“You proposed!”

Sam coughed, interrupting Aziraphale and Crowley’s very important conversation about if they got married or not.

“So, here’s the thing: we think that while we were trying to contact Crowley of this universe, you, Crowley, from another universe were summoned here instead. This could be because of two things: Chuck is going insane and he no longer has control over the veils between universes, or two, because Jack (he’s a nephilim), is back, his powers might have overwhelmed the spell. We also think that because of your “compromising position”, both of you got summoned, instead of just Crowley. Either way, you are free to go.”

“Or you could stay for a couple of drinks, if that is okay by you,” Cas said, hoping they’d stay, just so he could get to know them better.

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a knowing glance, coming to an agreement.

“It is noon presently; would you have cocoa by any chance?” Aziraphale chimed happily.

_______________________________________________________________________

Hey y’all! I am sure this has been done before but I am currently practicing escapism by writing silly fanfics so please bear with me through this phase.

I’m gonna tag some awesome people: @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @telefunkies @jensenackles-ismyreligion @mystybloo @thedepressedexpress

Tell me if you want me to tag you or if you don’t want me to tag you.

Thank you for reading uwu

97 notes · View notes

fogsrollingin · 4 years

Text

I’m coping with the SPN series finale by focusing on the positives as I see them. Here’s what I got so far.

I am grateful...

first and foremost, for fanworks, which have over the years absolutely shattered my dependence on canon for any kind of happiness or validation*, and therefore has made the series finale so much more bearable. *not to say canon hasn’t delivered happiness or validation to me but rather that fanworks deliver so much more of it on a more frequent basis that canon has become a pale imitation of how well-fed I’m kept by fans.

for Dad!Sam

for Shirtless Sam

to have gotten soul crushed and pieced back together by Jared and Jensen’s performances as Sam and Dean one last time. In the barn, “I love you so much, my baby brother” and the forehead boop. In heaven, how Sam looked like he was gonna cry just seeing Dean again after so long, how Dean hugged Sam like he was home

Dean and Sam got to live so comfortably in the bunker, hunting things and saving people with no sword of Damocles hanging over their heads. They got to have an adorable dog named Miracle

Jack returned everyone that Chuck had vanished back to Earth so they could carry on too

heaven was changed to be so much better and now much more interesting (because freedom and souls of various different levels of virtue interacting) than it was

Sam, Dean, Cas, Bobby, Jack, et al. ended up there together. Did I mention how super intriguing heaven is? (do I have fanfic ideas? y e s ). Also I’m so jazzed that Rowena still runs hell!

Sam’s wife or co-parent was blurry. Eileen was a pleasant ship I was totally cool shipping but I don’t mind the idea of a different love story. I’m actually even more attracted to the idea that Sam’s really too damaged to maintain a healthy romance but Dean jr. still came out of it, and Sam became a single father who threw everything he had into raising his little bubba

for this rationalization I came up with: if I could handle Sam was in a hell cage for eons with Lucifer getting tortured his soul flayed, I can handle a grief-stricken Sam living the rest of his life raising his baby until he gets his big brother back in heaven

Sam’s son had an anti-possession tattoo. Instead of blocking out the Supernatural completely for the rest of his life, Sam clearly acknowledged it and struck some compromise between staying aware of the Supernatural and still living his life as Dean would’ve wanted. Sam as a researcher/academic or a witch or both for a career is not out of the question (!!!)

I’m grateful for how it seems a reasonable presumption that Dean feels the same way about Cas as Cas does for him, and that we were left zero barriers between Cas and Dean to discover that by the end

Garth’s kids, Cas and Sam, playing with Sam’s son, Dean to be TFW: The Next Generation

fanfic is not hitting different now that the show’s over. I was scared of this but it’s not happening. It’s extremely easy to forget the series finale when reading canon divergences that take off after like season 2 for example

for how many plausible ideas there are in how to continue Supernatural off from the series finale. Supernatural has time traveled, dimension hopped, and jerked souls around from heaven, hell, purgatory and earth by means of so many devices that the end really has no end (oh, and they’re friends with Jack and the Queen of Hell, both of whom can probably do all those things and more)

Sammy wearing his pilot clothes in the finale, but especially the sneakers, blue pumas. for some reason it’s such a soft detail to me, my collegiate baby Sammy

That’s it for now. Ty for reading. The tag on my blog for posts like these is gonna be spn positivity. xoxoxo

#spn spoilers #supernatural #spn series finale silver linings #attitude of gratitude #positivity #spn positivity #positive takeaways #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #saileen #spn series finale #spn s15e20

10 notes · View notes

evqnbuckley · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: A Price

7.2k words..........Okay this is taking on a life of it’s own but I promise, I promise there is a resolution. There is a happy ending. I’m just a sucker for pain and angst.... the rest is on ao3 @princesscas

Two weeks go by in a daze. Sam has searched almost every book on the left side of the library. Eileen keeps the brothers hydrated and fed. Sam tells her not to worry about that, but she does. She bakes cookies occasionally, and brings home pie to cheer Dean up. He nods and half-heartedly grins in appreciation. Miracle cuddles Dean at night and licks his hand until he falls asleep. His presence is warm and comforting. Sam and Eileen both see Dean withdraw more and more everyday. They worry.

Dean is scanning through the online archives, with Miracle on the floor next to him fast asleep. He clicks on the topic NECROMANCY RITUALS. He knows it is a long shot but everything else is coming up dry. He scrolls down swiftly reading the pages, when something piques his interest. Upon first glance, most believe necromancy to be the darkest magick. Through further research it has been discovered that it’s only the first layer of what one can accomplish when tapping into that amount of power, darkness. Many rituals have culminated over time and within different cultures. However, one thing remains the same with Necromancy. A life for a life. Dean slowly sits up, removing his feet from the table. He swallows, and glances around the room. Eileen and Sam are giggling quietly. She shoves his arm in response to Sam’s remark. Dean pulls the laptop closer to him, and continues to read. Necromancy takes upon a life of its own. If one does not correctly perform the ritual, consequences may ensue. Those desperate to bring back a loved one should heed warning. Never perform the ritual on the second full moon during the harvest. Magick is unpredictable, but especially during the harvest the complications of Necromancy increase tremendously. Also, if you are to perform the ritual alone, it is to be exact. One mishap could lead to immediate death. The ingredients vary slightly from ritual to ritual. It is appropriate to be diligent and perform with the correct offerings. Dean clicks the arrow for the next page, and it shows an error message. His brow creases in confusion. He clicks the refresh button and the message appears again. He clicks four more times. The message remains on the page. Dean grows frustrated. He slams the laptop shut and stands.

“I’m going out.”

Sam and Eileen turn toward the noise, confused and shocked. “What? Why?” Sam questions.

Dean sighs, pulling on his jacket. “We’re getting nowhere. I feel claustrophobic and cooped up in this damn place. I haven’t left in two weeks. I need to stretch my legs. Get some air. I promise I’ll be back before curfew, Mom,” he adds, rolling his eyes.

“Dean-” Sam starts.

“I won’t do anything stupid, Sam.” He walks up the staircase and the bunker door slams.

Dean drives and drives and drives. He has no destination, but right now the road is welcoming. He runs his hand across the Impala’s steering wheel, slick, smooth and familiar. He almost forgets the feeling of driving his Baby. The trees and asphalt blur in his vision. The only thing Dean focuses on are the yellow lines on the road, but even those begin to blur as well. Dean squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and azure eyes stare back at him. Fuck.

He slows the car and pulls over. It's quiet. The Impala's headlights shine ahead, revealing an empty road. A bit of fog hangs loose above the ground. Dean sighs. He needs to get out of his head. There are too many thoughts and he feels like he wants to scream. Dean picks up his cell phone and pulls up Castiel's contact. His finger idles over the call button. Click. The line rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. There's a pause before the recorded voicemail answers.

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." Dean closes his eyes at the sound of Castiel’s voice. He only speaks for two seconds but Dean hears every syllable. His brow creases and he clenches his jaw to bury the pain. Dean hangs up. He calls again.

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." A tear falls down Dean's cheek. He needs to hear Castiel's real voice. He needs to see him again. Touch him. But he's gone. Wiping his nose with his sleeve, Dean notices a few tear stains on his shirt.

Once again, he calls Castiel. Even though it's pointless. Even though he looks like a widower who can't let go. He calls Cas. The voicemail picks up again and Dean listens but he decides to not hang up. Not yet. The dial beeps, waiting for a voicemail to be recorded and Dean is still. He breathes in, motioning to speak, but stops. He hangs up. Anger rises in his chest. Why can't I leave a damn voicemail? He's angry at Castiel for leaving him. He's angry at Jack for leaving him. But most of all, he's angry at himself. At how he's failed to bring Castiel back. At how his best friend died and he didn't even say goodbye. At how he's known for a while his feelings about Castiel but never has the guts to admit it.

Each thought churns his stomach more and more. The anger boils higher within him until he slams his palm against the steering wheel repeatedly. He cries out and covers his face with both hands, dropping the phone in his lap. Dean breathes in and picks the phone back up, hits redial and listens to the voicemail. I'm going to leave a fucking message.

The dial beeps. Dean hesitates again but says quietly, "Hey it's me. Just wanted to hear your voice. The way you left- it's got me pretty messed up, man. I have to admit I never thought an angel was capable of emotions. You once told me I'm different. Well so are you. So I suppose my assumptions just make me an ass, huh?" He chuckles. "I'm sorry, Cas. I need you to know that. I need you to know th-that," he trails off. "Me too, Cas. I just need you to hear me, man." Dean pauses and rubs his brow with his index finger. "This is so stupid." He hangs up, and with a clench of his jaw, he pulls back onto the road.

On his aimless drive, Dean passes through a four way dirt road intersection. His memory of the deal with a crossroads demon to save Sam pops up. He considers trying to do the same for Castiel, but who knows if deals like that have much power in the Empty.

Dean weighs the option before slamming on the brakes and makes a dangerous U-turn. He parks to the side and buries a small metal box with his picture along with other trinkets inside. Dean barely slides a layer of gravel over the box when he feels a presence.

“What have we here?” The demon peers around to face Dean. “A Winchester. Well, I feel honored.” The demon is possessing some young twenty year old kid, most likely a college student. He was probably Sam’s age when I pulled him from law school, Dean thinks. The demon straightens his dark suit jacket as Dean eyes him carefully. “So, are we just going to have a staring contest or do you have an offer to make?”

“I want to talk to Rowena," he demands.

The demon stops, tilting his head. “She doesn’t take house calls.”

“We go way back. It’s important. Take me to her.” He states plainly.

“Uh, no.”

Dean stares down the demon. His green eyes flashing a dark olive with anger. His jaw clenches and he tightens his fists. Dean lunges forward, gripping at the demon’s collar and slams him against the Impala. He leans in, almost nose to nose as the demon smirks.

“Careful now, Dean I like it rough," the demon taunts.

“Shut the fuck up. Why won’t Rowena answer my calls? Why won’t she see me?” His questions increase in volume with intensity. “Huh?”

The demon remains unprovoked. Dean pulls out the demon knife, threatening him. Eyeing the blade, the demon answers. “Alright, alright. I don’t know this for certain. I have just heard rumors, okay. Demons talking. But apparently Rowena was visited by the new God.”

Dean releases the demon, slowly in bewilderment. “What?” He says more to himself.

“Yea. They had this long ass meeting. Some demons are saying they came to an ‘understanding.’” The demon emphasizes with air quotes. He smooths out his jacket again and eyes Dean.

Dean’s eyes flick back and forth between the demon’s, searching for a hint of deceit. “The fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I only know what I heard.” The demon walks away from Dean and turns back, facing him. “Listen, if you don’t want to make a deal I am just wasting my time. There are other losers out there desperate and willing to sell me their soul. It's kinda my job, so…" Dean is silent, staring at a large rock in the gravel. It’s much larger than the others, out of place really.

The demon dramatically turns, as if he needs to walk away when he can just teleport. “Wait,” whispers Dean.

“I’m sorry what was that?”

“I said wait,” he raises his voice, normal volume. Dean sighs before continuing. He knows he told Sam he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but he has to know. “There is one thing I need to know. If I am to make any kind of deal right now, I need to know something first.”

“Yes?” The demon drags on the ‘s’ like a snake.

“Do you have access to the Empty? Can you make deals that involve it?”

The demon saunters toward Dean with a smirk. “Hm, maybe.” Dean’s face lightens up.

“Take me. Take me instead. Please man, I have tried everything. If you can trade me and Castiel-”

“Oh yes, Castiel. Castiel, the angel who defied Heaven and lost everything. The angel so love-sick with humanity he couldn't be a good soldier anymore. The angel so broken he wasn’t truly an angel anymore,” interrupts the demon. He smirks at Dean, digging into his emotions and adds, “Thanks to you.” Dean squints his eyes. He’s right.

“Take me,” Dean steps forward.

The demon chuckles at the sight before him. A Winchester so distraught he’s almost on his knees begging for a kiss. “Truthfully, I can give you what you want. Death. Another eternity in Hell. I’ll even give you 6 months instead of 10 since you look so damn miserable. But it won’t save your precious angel. He’s stuck there.”

Dean’s expression falters. He gasps as the new sliver of hope rips his heart out, shattering it. The demon, chuckling, closes in on Dean, whispers in his ear. His breath is hot and moist against Dean's neck. He shivers in disgust. “You must have known I was lying. But why don’t you say we kiss and make up?”

With that, Dean slams the demon knife into his stomach and twists the handle. The demon yelps in surprise and then falls to the ground. The night air ruffles the neck of Dean’s jacket. Even with the long sleeves, he still grows goose bumps on his arms. An owl sounds from across the street, in a tall bare oak tree. Dean feels like he’s in a warped moment of time. The midnight sky, the sound of the owl, silence from the road, and a dead body before him. He continues to stare down at the body for quite some time. His head becomes numb, but in the sense he doesn’t feel real. He hates this feeling. It’s how he felt when Chuck told Sam and Dean they have no free will. He writes their stories. None of it is real. But now Chuck is gone, so this is real.

Dean gets rid of the dead body, gathers the small metal box, and drives again. He drives for an hour until he comes across a small bar that resembles The Roadhouse. Dean softly smiles. The Impala driver door groans as Dean closes it. Music to my ears. Dean’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and the caller reads, “Sam.” He doesn’t want to deal with his brother’s concern or speech about self-destruction, so he declines the call. A notification for a voicemail pops up. Of course. Dean swings the door to the bar open and takes a seat in the middle. The stool is a bit worn down and the plastic is ripped, but the atmosphere is familiar and he appreciates the song "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival filling the room.

“What can I get for ya?” A petite, dark headed woman with bright, blue eyes asks from behind the bar. She actually resembles Pamela Barnes in some aspects. That makes Dean smile earnestly.

“Double shot of whiskey, your strongest.”

“Coming right up,” she taps the counter and winks at Dean. He knows she is just flirting for a nice tip, but the gesture seems nice. After a few moments, the bartender comes around with a short glass full of dark, honey like colored liquid and slides it in front of Dean.

“Our strongest whiskey.”

“Thanks,” he lifts his glass up in appreciation and then takes a drink. The liquid burns as it flows down. He sucks a breath between his teeth and releases it slowly. “Damn.”

A few girls, confidently and bravely, approach Dean periodically throughout the night. Each one, he easily lets down. His younger self would be kicking him right now. In fact, twenty-seven year old Dean would jump at any chance to have sex with all of these women. Now, though, everything is different. The last girl, she has a few too many, becomes a bit too touchy with Dean. He has to continuously remove her hands, but when he glances away in embarrassment, she moves in to kiss him. He doesn’t reciprocate, and the woman pulls back, spilling with apologies. Dean assures her it’s fine and “we’ve all been there.” She nods in acceptance and shuffles away. No more women approach him after that.

Dean downs the remainder of his whiskey and orders another glass. “Damn, you’re pretty popular tonight with the ladies. Though, I can’t say I don’t blame them,” the bartender says.

Dean huffs in embarrassment. “Uh yea, right.”

She slides his second glass of whiskey across the counter and eyes him. He has dark circles under his eyes, a pretty thick five o’clock shadow, and he's staring at his left hand. “So, why are you here by yourself? Where’s your lucky lady?” She inquires.

Dean looks up, confused. “Huh?” She smiles at him, knowingly.

“You’ve been rejecting all these women all night. You’ve gotta be tied down to someone. There ain’t no other explanation.”

“Oh, uh, no lucky lady.”

“Lucky lad?” She implies.

Dean’s eyes widen and his expression falters. “No, no. No, it’s just me.” He sighs. The sound of Castiel’s voice saying, “I love you” replays in Dean’s head. “Why?”

“I just like to get to know my patrons while they visit me. In case they become regulars,” she says as she pours a light beer from the tap for another man at the bar.

“Hm,” he replies. I did have someone in my life, but I was the lucky one. The song overhead changes from “Renegade” by Styx to “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner. Around the edges of the room, couples slow dance to the song.

“I love this song,” the dark-haired bartender says as she pours four shots of vodka.

Dean smirks. There was a time when he would never admit to liking this song, but not anymore. “I love this song too,” he agrees.

Dean’s phone vibrates against his leg. The music drowns out his ring tone. The caller ID reads “Sam” again. He declines the call. A part of him feels bad, dodging Sam like this but he wants to be alone right now. This whiskey is warm and numbing but his mind is clear. The fuzziness has not consumed him yet. He needs something stronger. He can continue drinking whiskey, but he needs at least a full bottle.

“Hey, sweetheart do you have anything stronger?”

The bartender leans across the counter, and points to her name tag. “My name is Riley, not sweetheart. And that is our strongest whiskey. We can try a different liquor? I have vodka.” She offers, holding up the bottle.

Dean shakes his head. “No, no. Doesn’t work.” He mutters to himself. Dean runs his fingers up and down the glass, mindlessly.

Riley eyes him. “You’re not a cop, are you?" She asks, carefully. Dean looks at her questioning the sudden inquiry and shakes his head.

"Why?"

"No offense or anything, you are cute, but you look like shit. I see a lot of people, everyday, and I’m pretty good at reading people - comes with the job. I can tell you’re hurting. I won’t begin to guess who hurt you or what, but,” she trails off. “To be honest, it looks like you've been to Hell and back. I am just asking because you look like you could use a pick me up." She leans forward, speaking softly, "I can get you something stronger than whiskey. Not me personally, but I know a guy.”

“What do you mean you know a guy? Like drugs?”

She shushes him. “Yes, like drugs. Jesus, you don’t have to announce it. Cops come in here all the time.” Dean swallows the last of his whiskey.

“Hm. I don’t do drugs. Weed doesn’t count.” He pulls out his wallet and lays down a fifty dollar bill. Replacing the leather, he turns to Riley and salutes. “Thanks for the whiskey.”

“Hold on." She reaches for a napkin and pulls out a pen. On it, she writes an address and holds it out to Dean. “This is the last location I know of where the dealer hides out. It’s kind of shady looking. Strange people visit and some disappear. I know someone who kind of got wrapped up in all this and she,” Riley trails off. “Anyway, I just prefer not to involve the police anymore. They don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”

This whole situation seems off. He watches her, puzzled. Dean takes the napkin and reads the address. He recognizes the street but he’s never been around that area personally. “What did you mean by the police don’t believe in this stuff? Cops bust drug deals all the time.”

“It’s hard to explain. Just see for yourself, if you’re interested,” she trails off.

#i'm really excited for this yall #my writing #destiel #fix it fic

7 notes · View notes