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fairlyspnfanfic · 3 years

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The Ties That Bind Us - Part 8

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.

Words: 2438

Warnings: Trauma, medical terminology, stress, hospital waiting room, all the angst

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE PART SIX PART SEVEN

I hesitated to open my eyes, for fear that I’d wake up and it would all have been a dream. My lips felt warm and pleasantly swollen as I reached my hand up slowly to touch them, keeping my eyes shut. I took a deep breath and lifted my eyelids, coming eye to eye with Dean as he lay next to me staring.

Sheepishly, I smiled and released a small chuckle with my fingertips still glazing over my bottom lip. “Well,” I said meekly. “Not a dream.” His eyebrows were still knitted together as if he was unsure as to what my reaction would be. But the corner of his mouth twitched upward as the hint of a smirk began to spread.

“Kinda was for me,” he said through an exhale of breath as he ran the back of his fingers along my cheek. I leaned into his touch, relishing in the delightful feel of his skin on mine.

“How long,” I asked him.

“How long what? How long have I wanted to do that?” He paused, leaving the silence pregnant with anticipation. He let out a quick breath, looking to the ceiling as he thought. “Six years ago, St. Patrick’s Day. I told you to kiss me cause I’m Irish. You called me an idiot and threw a pillow at my face.” I laughed at his response. “Been hooked ever since.”

I could feel heat rushing to my cheeks as they blushed and a coy smile wound itself across my face.

“Or did you mean how long have I known you wanted me to? Cause that’s a very different answer.”

I ducked my head down, attempting to hide from his view, and buried my nose into the crook of his neck. “I mean, I’d be happy to answer that one for you, too, sweetheart but I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” His words dripped with sarcasm as he pursed his lips and left a trail of kisses from the crown of my head and down the side of my face, slowly pulling my head back up to face him.

“See, when things weren’t looking all that great for you? I wasn’t doing so well. I wasn’t the pillar of strength you’re used to on the day to day.” His face returned to seriousness now, and my eyes fixated on him. “I kind of fell apart. No, that’s not true. I completely fell apart. A world without you in it? That’s not a world I want to be in.”

I felt tears pooling in my eyes, but I held them at bay.

“So, my baby brother, he decides he needs to cheer me up. See, he yanks me up to my feet, slams me up against a wall and tells me to stop being a selfish prick. Tells me I can help you by just keeping it together, by staying with you.” Dean’s hand lifted as he pushed my hair gently behind my ear. “Now I’m lost at this point. He’s talking crazy and all I want to do is hide from the world. But the big oaf that Sam is, he wouldn’t allow that.” He leaned in towards me again, pressing a short, chaste kiss to my lips before tucking his chin over the crown of my head.

“Instead, he looks me in the eye, tells me I’m a moron, and lets me go. But not before just blurting out ‘She loves you, you jackass,’ and proceeding to lecture me about how dumb I am.” The smile on his face is beyond genuine and my entire body feels as though it’s turned to gelatin. “That true,” he asks me, his eyes back on mine. The confident smirk on his face is betrayed only by the pleading desperation in his green orbs that are so focused on mine that I dare not even blink.

Slowly, I nod my head, feeling that same blush rise in my cheeks again. “Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking as I did so.

“Thank god,” he breathed out as his lips once again plastered themselves against mine, knocking the air out of me as he slowly wound his arm around my waist. He leaned into me, rolling me over onto my back as he rested his body on top of mine, his hips jutting against my own. I could feel his calloused hands wandering; one tangled in my hair as his fingers deftly caressed my ear lobe as his other held our bodies closer together.

I had wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him with desperation. Dean pushed against me harder as I felt his excitement growing against my groin. I broke our lips apart, breathing deeply as I lifted my hand to the back of his head, entwining my fingers in his hair. He began grinding his hips against me; an act I longed for but subsequently found intolerable. Shocks of pain tore through my abdomen in waves and I cried out, gasping for air as I ground my teeth together.

“Fuck,” I grimaced, wincing. Dean instantly backed away, holding himself almost as if he were doing a pushup.

“What’s wrong?” His panicked voice rang out as his eyes examined me.

I removed one hand from his firm waist and grabbed for my side, desperate to alleviate some of the pain.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath, looking down towards my waist. It seemed instantaneous that I sprang off the bed and frantically searched for the remote control with the nurse call button. A few seconds passed and the pain had ebbed.

“Dean, I’m fine, really.” My attempt to settle him did nothing as I spoke to his back. He was running towards the doorway now, yelling for help.

I rolled my eyes, knowing that he was surely overreacting. Pulling my hand away, I glanced down and took in the sight of dark red blood pooling slowly on the sheet beneath me. “Well, crap.”

Dean walked back into the room, a female nurse clad in dark purple scrubs in tow. He raised his hand and pointed towards my wound, and she immediately got to work. My gown was quickly pushed to the side as she took a look at the damage that had been done.

“You’ve popped a staple out. Haven’t seen that too often!” Her voice was cheery and calming as she smiled sweetly at me.

“I’ll get the doctor and we’ll get you patched up again in no time. Good as new, huh? How are you feeling in the meantime? What’s your pain level?”

“I’m good,” I answered simply.

“Are you sure, darlin’? You look a little flushed.” Her eyes were intent now, taking in every physical cue that she could.

“That, uh,” Dean began with that devilish half smile of his. “That could be my fault.” He held up a finger as if claiming victory. I rolled my eyes in response and watched as the nurse did the same.

She turned her head to face him and took up the absolutely accurate stance of an angry mother about to berate their petulant child. “You do know that she’s recently had invasive surgery, yes?”

I watched as Dean shrank under the nurse’s stare. He nodded solemnly.

“And that a team of highly trained surgeons spent several hours fixing her up and putting her back together again with slim odds that she’d even wake up, let alone thrive and begin healing?” Her question was obviously rhetorical. Dean held eye contact with her and nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” He’d never sounded so young and childlike.

“So maybe, just maybe, we can pause on the hanky panky funny stuff until after she’s discharged, yeah?”

I stifled my laughter as Dean nodded again, and the nurse exited the room, patting his shoulder as she walked by; the smile on her face betrayed the entertainment she had felt at Dean’s expense.

Dean skulked back towards me, lowering himself into the chair beside my bed. The laughter that I had been withholding came pouring out of me, eliciting more pain as I again held my side.

“Geez, Y/N, you’re going to open yourself up more.” Dean placed his hands on my arms, attempting to hold me still.

“Yeah, well. You started it.”

His eyes went wide with incredulity. “How do you figure?”

“You were the one who opened up first!” My cheesy joke landed flat.

Dean rolled his eyes, leaning backwards in his chair as he sighed dramatically. “Good to see you didn’t lose your awful sense of humor.”

I smiled at him exaggeratedly. “I’m delightful.”

He smiled at me again, reaching over and raking his fingertips down my cheek. “Yeah,” he paused. “You are.”

The doctors had swooped into the room, getting me all stitched back together in a blur of lights, antiseptic, and latex gloves. The same nurse had accompanied them, insisting on administering more morphine when she did so.

They moved me into a wheelchair as they waited for my bedsheets to be taken out and laundered. I was struggling to keep my head up as I leaned my temple against my palm, fighting to hold my eyelids open. I could feel Dean’s warm hand drawing comforting circles on my back, but my head was swimming. His soothing voice rang out every few minutes, letting me know that it was okay if I wanted to fall asleep. Encouraged even. But stubbornly, I refused, shaking my head and insisting on waiting until Sam came back.

It wasn’t too long until Sam peaked his head into my room; his long hair unkept and falling in his face.

“Hey, Tarzan,” I mumbled, giggling at my own joke. Both the boys stared at me quizzically as my eyes closed and I leaned further over onto the side, my chuckles growing quieter.

“Tarzan? I thought it was Thor.” Sam’s voice drifted in as if he were speaking through static.

“She’s out of her mind on morphine, Sammy. Don’t worry.” I could hear the jest in Dean’s voice as he spoke from just behind me.

There was a small hint of commotion as an orderly came in with a rolling tray full of food for me. With my eyes still closed, I took a deep breath, attempting to smell my meal. But my sense of smell reacted negatively as I breathed in the scent of hard-boiled eggs, squash and fish.

“Gross,” I protested, grabbing at the wheels of the wheelchair I sat in and attempting to push myself away.

“No. Don’t want that,” I murmured as I shook my head. There was a strong hand grasping my shoulders as someone gently whispered in my ear to relax. “Mom made me lasagna,” I groaned, as large tears overwhelmed my lids and began cascading down my cheeks.

I felt warm fingers press against my cheeks as Dean’s familiar voice repeated my name softly.

“Hey, Y/N. Can you open your eyes for me?”

I stubbornly shook my head, opting for the darkness my closed eyelids afforded me. I could feel panic rising in my chest, and my breaths began coming in stuttered waves. Sam’s voice was screaming into the hallway, demanding a nurse or any sort of help. But my head was swimming. I could still smell the garlic and tomatoes as the cheese bubbled on the top of my favorite dish. I could hear my mother’s voice as she spoke with me. My father’s warm, teddy-bear embrace still ghosted over my arms. But all I could see was black. I longed for the comfort their memories had afforded me.

“Daddy,” I mumbled out as I felt the familiar push of medication run up my arm as forced, restless sleep overtook me.

I woke hours later. Days possibly. The sky outside my window was still dark and the light in the room too dim. Running my dry hands down my face, I pulled myself slowly to sit up in the bed. The ache in my side not entirely unnoticed. Every muscle in my body was sore and resisted moving. I kicked my legs out gently over the bed, glaring at my thighs as I balanced myself on them with the palms of my hands.

“Don’t even think about it,” Dean’s voice was stern as he spoke from the chair in the corner of the room. I watched his arms flex as he walked towards me, squatting effortlessly in front of me as his eyes locked onto mine.

“Back in bed.” His words were stern, but his eyes betrayed some sadness that lingered on his face.

“Dean?” My voice was groggy and sounded foreign to me.

“Y/N get your ass back in bed, now.” He sounded almost defeated; an unfamiliar tone for him.

I acquiesced and pulled my legs back onto the uncomfortable air mattress, keeping my eyes set on his face. “What’s wrong,” I asked him. “You seem grumpy.” He took his seat again in the lounge chair next to me, leaning on his knees with his elbows.

A forced, quick breath leaked through his nostrils, full of incredulity. “Grumpy, huh?” He paused. “Can’t imagine why.” His eyes fell to his hands, focusing on the thin piece of fabric that he was fiddling with. He flicked his gaze up to me, following my gaze back down to his hands.

“It’s part of your shirt,” he explained. “Or, well, was.” He paused again. “It tore off in your back there,” he gestured towards my side. “Had to dig it out on the way here.”

I took a deep breath, attempting to steady my surprise. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

He pursed his eyebrows and looked up towards me slowly. “For what? Getting stabbed? Not your fault.”

I reached towards him, surprised when I watched him pull away and lean back into his seat. “See, getting stabbed? Hurt? Happens to all of us. But you,” he said, holding the fabric up towards me. “You were reckless. You ditched me and Sam and did your damnedest to be in more danger than you needed to be.” His eyes shot up towards mine again, that same pained sadness shooting out of his eyes as he let silence stretch between us.

“And here, in this hospital. Some of the things you’re saying, been saying. They’ve got me wondering.”

I let his statement stand, wanting desperately to not discuss the topic at hand. “See, I’m wondering if there’s not something you’re hiding. Something you didn’t or aren’t telling me. And that? That won’t work. That’s something else.” He dropped his head, clenching his hand into a fist as he held onto the scrap of clothing. “So, talk.”

To be continued….

Part Nine

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huntertales · 3 years

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Part Four: All’s Well That Ends Well. (Bad Boys S09E07)

Episode Summary: When an old friend of Dean’s asks for help to solve a murder, Sam and the reader discover that the older Winchester as a secret past—one that will help solve the hunt. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,476.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

There was never a better feeling than wrapping up a particular rough hunt. Before you and the boys could say your final goodbyes to everyone and hit the road back to Kansas, Dean wanted to stay a little longer and have a private chat with Robin after the eventful afternoon she endured. There was nothing stopping him from giving the woman a proper goodbye, the one she deserved to have all those years ago. She was starting to understand Dean's past more and why he moved around so often. The business he inherited from his father wasn't like her own, but there was a sort of satisfaction to it of helping people.

"So, then, this is the family business?" Robin asked the man, still trying to wrap her head around everything she witnessed earlier today.

"Told you it was boring." Dean replied with a casual tone that made Robin laugh. She shook her head at his attitude that was too laid back for her personal comfort. She had a feeling he dealt with stranger things out there in the world. "Well, as you can see, I did not run off to become a rockstar."

"Mm...I don't know about that." Robin said. She tilted her head and smiled at the man. Despite the years that passed between them, not many things changed about him from his youth. He was still the same. Except that he seemed more assured of himself, more confident. And perhaps a tad bit happier. "You look pretty rockin' to me, Dean Winchester."

Dean chuckled at the woman's compliment. "And what about you?"

"I mean, I always thought that I would hate being in the same little town my whole life, and you know, taking over the diner like Dad always wanted, but...I don't. I just—I love it." Robin admitted. Dean was happy to hear about how the woman's life turned out. it was far from what she aspired to be when she was a teenager, but from the look on her face, she wouldn’t have it any other way. “How about you? The family business all that bad?”

“Well, it’s not all threatening to harm kids and spirits. It has its ups and downs, I’m not gonna lie. But it’s not all that bad.” Dean said. It was sort of funny to think back to the things the both of them discussed when they were teenagers. All their hopes and dreams for something different, wanting nothing more than to distance themselves from what their parents wanted, only to follow the exact same path they wanted to avoid. "I guess we didn't know everything we did at sixteen, huh?"

“Not everything.” Robin agreed. “Just some things.”

She guessed everything happens for a reason. If he asked, she would admit to him that he felt like the one who got away. She wondered from time to time if things might have turned out differently if he stayed and they went on that date he promised her. Would their lives have ended up differently? For better or worse? She didn't know, and quite frankly, didn't really care. Robin was genuinely happy with the way her life turned out. It might not have been exciting and adventurous like Dean's, but she was okay with that.

Robin found her mind wandering to a few different places with a couple of questions she wanted to try and pick Dean's brain before he left. She only had gotten a taste of what he went up against everyday. Part of her wanted to ask what kind of things were out there, but she had a feeling ignorance was bliss in this sort of situation. However there were other things she was curious about. She noticed Dean look over his shoulder to you and his brother, who had been talking to Sonny after he arrived back from the hospital.

"Okay, I gotta know." Robin let out a quiet sigh from the intrusive thought that wouldn't leave her alone. She shoved her hands into her back pocket and casually glanced over your way. "Is Y/N your wife? I mean, I only ask because you don't seem the traditional type. And the both of you seem...pretty close.”

“No. Not yet, at least.” Dean said. He found himself glancing back over in your direction again to see you talking to Sonny, seeming to have moved on from the update from the smile on your face. He prayed the older man who looked after him for those two months wasn’t telling you some kind of embarrassing story you’d most likely tease him about later when the both of you were alone. “I’m still waiting for the day she gets sick of me and runs off.”

"Give yourself some credit. If she didn't snatch you up, maybe I would have." Robin teased the man. She took the man by surprise when she leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Not in a romantic sort of way, but a thank you for everything he had given her. "Goodbye, Dean. If you ever happen to come back here, those banana pancakes will always be waiting for you."

The older Winchester smiled at the woman's open invitation and quietly gave her a verbal goodbye. He watched as Robin mader her way up the porch steps and joined Timmy who had been lingering near the front door. The kid smiled and waved to Dean before joining Robin back inside his permanent home. Dean left this place with a better feeling than he had all these years ago. Sonny was a good man, if anyone could help a kid like Timmy, he was the perfect person to do so.

Dean made his way over to you and Sam, overhearing the conversation about the things Timmy went through today and the person responsible for the deaths of Ruth and Jack, along with the harming of the other boy Sonny was looking over as well. Trauma and trouble were things Sonny was quite familiar with. And he'd do anything in his power to make sure the kid grew up in a loving home.

"Sounds like Timmy's gonna need some help adjusting." Sonny said.

"Yeah, but he's got you." Dean told the man.

"I always hate to see you go, dee-dawg. Can't thank you enough for this one, man." Sonny reached out and shook the older Winchester's hand before embracing him into a quick hug.

"Sonny, we'll see you around." Dean gave his final goodbyes to the man, a little disappointed all of you had to leave so soon. He'd like to stick around for a little while longer and catch up with Sonny, but he was starting to miss his own bed after a stressful hunt like the one all of you endured.

"You bet on that, kids." Sonny said. "Take it easy, man."

All of you gave your final goodbyes to the man before you watched Sonny make his way back up to the house to join the boys. You let out a quiet sigh and walked to the Impala that was parked a few feet away. As you reached for the backseat door, Sam found himself caught up with how the hunt ended. The situation looked like it was going to end horribly, until it didn't. Talking out problems to the monster straight on almost never worked. But for some reason it did in this situation.

"Hey, how did you know Timmy asking his mom to leave was gonna work?" Sam asked his brother, a little bit curious to hear the answer.

“I didn’t. Total Hail Mary.” Dean admitted. “Got lucky.”

"You just got lucky?" Sam repeated his brother's response, seeming to find it a bit funny like the man did. "Kind of like you did with this place. I mean, here I was thinking this was the worst part of your life, and it turns out it was the best. Why'd you ever leave?"

Dean would never admit the truth about this place to either one or Sam. There were some things about his life that he wanted to remain a secret. "Never felt right." Dean said. Sam didn't seem to fully believe the excuse his brother tried to use, you simply looked between both of the boys, understanding the things neither one of them wanted to say. "It was two months, Sam, okay, and I couldn't wait to get out of here. I don't know what to tell you. It wasn't me."

The boys were good liars when they wanted to be. If you keep telling yourself the same thing over and over again, eventually you'd start to believe it, too. You opened up the car door and slid yourself inside with the brothers following in suit. Dean could lie to your face all you wanted, but you knew there was a special place in his heart for this home and Sonny. A possibility in your life that didn't turn out to be. A chance for normality that never came. For Sam it was his college years, and Dean it was here. While it never lasted long, the chance of getting a taste was sweet enough. Because what you wanted in the moment might not be the thing you really wanted after all. Something made all of you choose hunting instead of a normal life.

Sam had a hunch of what made Dean decide not to stay at Sonny's all those years ago and join him and John. Something Dean always chose. His older brother never once abandoned him over the years. He was always there for him, always wanting to look out for him. Dean made sacrifices the way a parent did. And never once over the years did he make Sam feel guilty over it. He did what he always did, protected him.

"Dean...thank you." Sam muttered two words he felt he didn't say enough to his brother. Dean's face slowly morphed into confusion at the compassion being thrown his way. He asked what for. "For always being there, for having my back. Look, I know it hasn't always been easy."

The car fell into silence at the heartfelt words Sam needed to say after understanding the importance of this place to his brother, even if he didn't want to say it. Dean swallowed at the shift in atmosphere. The heaviness of the guilt his brother must be feeling at the moment. In true Dean fashion, the man denied anything to help avoid a deeper conversation. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

You rolled your eyes at the man's response, not sure why you were expecting anything else from him. Dean turned on the engine and put the car into drive, sending the Impala forward and down the dirt path out of Sonny's ranch. You looked out the window to get one more good look at the place before turning your attention back to the road.

+ + +

There was never a better feeling than coming back to the bunker and unwinding after the rough hunt you had. Sam decided he wanted to tackle the book he wanted to read and headed off to the library, you decided not to delay the unpacking you needed to do and the laundry that was starting to pile up in your hamper. You threw your duffel bag to the bed and reached to unzip it. pulling out the dirty clothes and throwing them to the overflowing pile of others. You let out a quiet sigh of annoyance and debated with yourself if you really wanted to do this right now...

Lucky for you, a momentary distraction came to you when Dean stepped into your shared bedroom with his own overnight bag he threw over to the couch. You'd been meaning to talk to him about the hunt. You watched as he kicked off his shoes and jumped onto the bed, relaxation finally coming over him after the long drive. You joined him without needing to be asked, curling up to his side and taking the rightful place you loved to be. You didn't entertain small talk like how you normally did when you wanted to ask Dean persona questions like you normally did.

“I’ve been thinking...” You began.

“That’s never good.” Dean was quick to try and humor you with jokes that made him laugh, you responded with an eye roll like always.

"What do you think our lives would be like if we never met? If you never left Sonny’s?" You asked him the question that had been burning in the back of your mind for a while now. Dean could try and deny the truth all he wanted to you, but you knew him better than he knew himself. You sat up so you were staring at him in the eye to see his reaction from your question. "I know Sammy’s the reason why you really left.”

You watched as Dean opened his mouth to try and deny such a claim. You raised your brow slightly and waited for him to try and stop the conversation before it could go any further. He shot down all of you every time you tried to dig deeper into this part of his past. But it seemed he didn't want to deny anything with you. He let out a quiet sigh. "I couldn't leave the kid alone."

“That’s what makes you the best big brother, ever.” You mumbled, a smile spreading across your lips. “I could picture you turning out to be like Sonny. Having a home for little wayward boys, making them better people. Maybe settle down with Robin...be happy.”

“You think I’d settle down with Robin?” Dean teased you from the way you trailed off before finishing your sentence. Speaking words that almost sounded like they left a bad taste in your mouth from the thought alone of not having a life with him. “Are you jealous?”

“What? No!” You jumped a little too quickly to deny such a claim from him. You rolled your eyes when the smirk that spread across his lips grew a little wider at your reaction to his question. You reached out to fix the flannel he was wearing so it laid flat, using the few moments between your words to help formulate your thoughts better. “Far from it, actually. It was nice meeting someone from your face that wasn’t a hookup. I...I’m happy your life wasn’t that bad all the time.” You were now fidgeting with his buttons from what you said. “You got to have somewhat a normal life. Experience the awkwardness of being a teenager. Date a nice girl. Even if it only lasted a few months. It just makes me wonder what your life could have been if you stayed.”

“I never really thought about it.” Dean shrugged, giving you the honest truth. “Not recently, at least.”

You looked up at him after focusing on his shirt for a little while longer, asking another question. “Was she the first girl you got serious with?”

"Why'd you ask that?" Dean's expression changed into slight confusion at such an odd sounding question. You saw his brow scrunch together as he wondered to himself if you

were jealous. Not of what she was to him, but the fact that it wasn't you who gave him the teenage bliss of first dates and making out on porches. Stupid things every sixteen year old got to experience. Things you missed out on when you were his age.

“Because of the way you acted around her when you first saw her at the diner. You acted like you were more than old friends." You said. "You get this look in your eye when you're around girls who...gave you something you never really got to have."

“She made me understand what it was like to be a teenager. What relationships were like.” He said. “But she doesn’t compare to you. Not even by a long-shot.”

"I know our paths were supposed to cross and all that crap, but sometimes I wonder what things would be like if we were just...normalish.” You said. “What if we never met back up as teenagers? We might have gone our entire lives not knowing each other. You really might have become a famous rockstar. I could have been an adoring fan of yours!”

"Would have you been one of those groupies who'd do anything to get backstage to meet the singer?" Dean asked, wiggling his brow to prove his point. You quietly laughed at the way his mind always seemed to wander. "Do you think you would have gone to college and live the life the way your mom wanted if we never met?"

“Mmm, perhaps. Maybe I’d settle down with some schmuck and live some boring life.” You quietly laughed at the thought of having the American dream most people craved to have. A boring job with a white picket fence and a spouse they’d most likely divorce in ten years. “I can picture myself having some lame career. Pop out a few kids. Definitely would have a dog…I mean, how can I not?”

“We’re not getting a dog. Or a cat. You know my allergies wouldn’t handle it.” He quickly shot down your idea of adding a furry pet into your family when you looked at him the way you were right now. You still were a bit bummed since you wrapped up the case with the Colonel a few weeks back. You’d do anything to give him a proper home, but you knew that it was impossible with the life you lead. “Sammy’s kind of like a dog. He’s hairy enough. And Kevin’s like a cat. He never leaves and sometimes roams from room to room.”

“You’re terrible.” You lightly whacked Dean in the chest at his horrible joke that made you smile. He chuckled to himself and titled his head to the side that you found adorable. For some reason you found yourself staring into his eyes, a rush of emotions came over you. Sometimes it happened when the light hit him just right or he was simply doing something mundane. It was the realization that Dean was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. He was your soulmate, your better half. Even if he was a bit of an idiot sometimes. He was all yours. And fate had led you together. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” He whispered back to you. He leaned down slightly to give you a sweet and simple peck on the lips. “And don’t you forget that.”

“I won’t.” You promised him. “Not ever.”

Maybe that’s why he kept this of his past a secret for all these years. John told Sam that his older brother got lost on a hunt because it was just easier for everyone. Sam wouldn’t understand why John couldn’t pick his brother back up from this place. You bet that even at twelve years old Sam butted heads with his father.

And Dean never told the truth because...because this place was something that made him think for a second that the life he had wasn’t what he wanted. He could’ve changed it around and never looked back. He could’ve gone to that dance like a normal teenager and continued on with Robin. He could’ve finished up school and possibly went off to college. Learn guitar from and become a big rockstar. Or go to college and study engineering. Dean was smart, much as he doubted himself at times. There was an opportunity to change his life around and stay with someone who cared for him and gave the right kind of tough love he needed at times. And he would’ve done it, only if he was an only child. Maybe if Sam was a few years older and was able to take care of himself on his own.

Dean’s life could have gone in a million different directions if he wanted All of your lives could have. The one he was given was tough and unbearable at times. He suffered too much grief and constantly had a crisis that needed solving. But the good outweighed the bad. If his life didn’t go the way it did, he wouldn’t have met you. Or Cas. And few people he called friends. Dean learned that his life, good or bad, was his own to control after all the crap he dealt with before in the past. It wasn’t perfect, God knows that, but it was his. He was able to do anything he wanted. And the realization made him think back to what he said about you to Robin when she asked if you and him were married. Not yet...but soon. He hoped very soon.

[Next Part]

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a-winchester-fairytale · 4 years

Text

Someone You Loved

Summary: Loving someone isn’t always enough, but feeling loved is everything

Warnings: lots of angst, Angry/Hurt Dean

A/N: Written for @atc74 Collaboration Contest. Based on the song Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi. This song made me think of Dean instantly, but hearing the title line hurt deep and I knew right then I had to write it. I hope you like how it turned out.

Thank you for reading, and please feel free to let me know what you think. I love the feedback <3

“You’re telling me, in the entire country, there isn’t one single monster or demon to hunt?” Dean practically shouted in disbelief. Sam looked up at him with his patented bitch face before rolling his eyes. “Come on Sammy. I need a case.”

“No, Dean. You need to rest. You have been going nonstop for a week and if you keep going like this, you are going to burn yourself out.” Sam reminded him. Dean scoffed.

“I’m fine.” He replied dismissively.

“Dean…”

“I said I’m fine.” Dean repeated with more force.

“Fine.” Sam muttered, throwing up his hands in surrender. Dean glared at him, shaking his head as he turned and walked toward the liquor cabinet.

Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw you, leaning against the doorway to the hall with your arms crossed and a look of heartbreak on your face. You had hoped that spending a few days on a hunt and releasing some of his anger would mellow things between the two of you.

“What’s gotten into you?” You challenged, stepping out into the room with them. His eyes squinted and he shook his head, turning away from you instead of answering. Angrily, you reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, spinning him back around to face you. “Hey! Talk to me damn it.” You insisted.

Sam raised an eyebrow at the scene unfolding in front of him. It was intensely quiet for a moment, neither of you ready to budge and Sam couldn’t help but remember all the times Dean had stared at him and John in the same type of staring death match. How helpless he must have felt at the time.

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling over his choices. He wanted to stay angry, to fight with you or storm out of the room, but instead his shoulders sank and he leaned back against the edge of the table behind him.

“I’m going to go get that…um” Sam stumbled, rising from his chair as soon as he saw that no one was going to come to blows. “that … other book from my room.” He threw the words out, and with a quick glance between the two of you, made his exit down the hallway.

You released Dean’s jacket, shifting your weight impatiently.

“I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.” He admitted.

“Dean….I will always love you.” you told him, reaching out for him, but he flinched and you let your hand fall back to your side. “It was never about not being able to love you.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about…” You paused, sighing and looking for the right words to explain it to him. “For years, I watched as you lost yourself in alcohol, hunting, and any girl that was cute enough to catch your eye. It was hard, and it hurt, but we were only friends and I thought I could live with it. Then, for a few months, I got to know what it was like to turn to you when I needed someone. I thought it would be enough, but….”

“What do you want from me? You want a house with 2 kids and a golden retriever in the backyard? A white picket fence maybe? Two people sitting on the front porch together on Sunday afternoons?” He waved his hand in the air at the visual he created, his frustration returning. He scoffed, adding, “That ain’t me. It was never meant to be my life.”

It had taken him years to let go of that picture, of the apple pie life he wanted so much when he was younger. Even now, the words still stung and you could see it in his eyes.

“I know that you believe that.” You answered, biting back the tears.

“You know what? I’m sorry this life isn’t good enough for you – that I’m not good enough for you.” He snapped.

And there it was, the reflection of what he heard when you told him you wanted more. He never thought he could do better, or that he deserved it. What he thought was that he wasn’t enough. You felt a pain in your chest as he shook his head and started to walk away from you.

“Dean, I…” You started, but a swift wave of his hand behind him cut you off.

“Where are you going now?” Sam called out after him from the bottom of the stairs as he walked back into the war room.

“The bar.” Dean replied, not looking back.

Sam sighed as the bunker door closed behind his older brother. He watched as you rolled your eyes and spun around, heading back down the hall without saying a word.

By the time Dean reached the bar, he felt even more restless and he cursed under his breath that there didn’t seem to be anything to hunt.

“This may be the first time I’ve actually wanted to find a vamp at the bar.” He muttered under his breath. Instead, he swallowed down his anger with a few glasses of whiskey, momentarily forgetting that there was only pain at the bottom of that bottle until it was too late.

The drunker he became, the more he simply wanted a distraction. He wanted a way to forget about all of the ways he had failed. More than that, he wanted to prove that he was okay without you.

His eyes followed the dark haired waitress as she wandered around the room, serving patrons. Before long she noticed and found herself gravitating toward him as the night slowed down. She was mesmerized by his green eyes and full lips.

She was cute and funny and Dean enjoyed making her laugh with lame jokes. He liked the way she threw her whole body into it. When she made a move to kiss him, he kissed her back, his hands sliding around her waist. His held her in his arms like he was trying to hold himself together.

She was exactly the kind of woman he gone to the bar to find. But no matter what she did, she wasn’t you. So, he spent most of the night pouring another shot of whiskey and throwing it down his throat to try and drown the ache that filled his chest.

You woke up from a nightmare, reaching out next to you instinctively, but when your hand touched only an empty pillow you remembered that you were laying there alone. The silence in the bunker felt deafening and you couldn’t escape the thoughts that ran through your mind, preventing you from returning to sleep. Frustrated, you climbed out of bed and made you way toward the kitchen.

“Everything okay?” Sam’s voice came from behind you and you jumped, turning to see him in the library with a table full of books in front of him. “Sorry.” He added when he realized he had startled you.

“I didn’t see you there. I, uh, just woke up and wanted some water.” You lied, gesturing to the kitchen. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He replied. Hearing him say that made you feel less vulnerable in admitting it yourself.

“Me either.” You quietly corrected.

“I kind of figured.” He said, sympathetically. “Does that have anything to do with my brother?”

“You knew? Did Dean tell you?”

“Not exactly. He hasn’t really been in a chatty mood, but it’s hard not to notice what’s been going on between you two.” Sam admitted. You nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

“Do you remember that hunt in Mississippi a few months ago?” You asked. Sam pressed his lips tightly together and nodded, waiting for you to continue. “I think the fact that we couldn’t save all of those families kind of got to me. I started having nightmares again, like I did when my parents died. I ended up walking out for some fresh air and Dean was sitting in the impala outside of the motel.”

“I knew that case bothered him more than he was letting on.” Sam muttered, shaking his head.

“He let me sit in the car with him and we talked about everything. When I admitted to him that I was dreaming about what happened to my parents again, and that’s why I had gone out there, he told me about how he used to dream about your mom, and that he sometimes still does.” You explained.

“He let his guard down with you.” Sam observed.

“I guess we both did.” You replied with a shrug. “Anyway, it changed things between us and ever since then….well, you get the idea.” You looked away from his sympathetic eyes as your words faded, failing to hide the hurt in your own.

“Come here.” Sam said, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and held you tenderly. “I’m not my brother, but if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here.”

“Thank you, Sam.” You whispered against his chest as you closed your eyes for a moment. “I guess I just spent so long wanting to know what it felt like to have someone really care about me, and now….”

“I care about you, and no matter what happened between you and Dean, I can promise you that he does too.” Sam added, stepping back so he could look you in the eyes for emphasis.

“I wish I could believe that.” You replied, sadly. “Truth is, I was getting really used to that feeling.”

You could see his shoulders sink a little at your words, and he squeezed your hand gently. You took a deep breath and smiled, determined not to break.

“I just feel like I had the rug pulled out from under me right now, but I’ll be okay.” You promised, although in your heart you weren’t completely sure if you would be.

You forced a smile and stepped backwards before turning to head back to your room. Sam’s words stopped you as soon as you reached the hall.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

“I think I should.” You answered, without turning to look at him. “It just doesn’t feel right to stay here, so I’ll pack up and head out tomorrow.”

Two Years Later:

Sam tried everything to direct Dean anywhere other than the small burger joint in downtown. They had almost made it, checking in with the family one last time before heading home from a hunt. Then the victim’s husband said they had the best apple pie in the state and Sam head fell down to his chest. He knew Dean wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Dean, Sam. I didn’t know you were here.” You said, your husband standing at your side and holding your daughter in his arms.

Sam looked at his brother, but Dean didn’t say a word. After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, Sam stepped toward you.

“It’s good to see you Y/N.” He said, pulling you into a welcome hug. He shook hands with your husband who seemed oblivious to the tension lingering in the air.

“Sorry, this is Sam and his brother Dean. They were friends of mine when I lived in Kansas.” You explained, never taking your eyes off Dean who remained stoically silent, unmoved from where he stood when he saw you. You tried to read his expression as Sam explained simply that they were passing through town on business and heading back home.

“We just stopped to grab some dinner for the road.” Dean finally added, confirming that he had heard every word.

With that, he turned and walked to the counter as Sam continued to chat with you both. You never took your eyes away from Dean. He moved different, not as light as he used to. Even as he paid the cashier and pocketed his change, his shoulders were tense and the smile was forced.

“I’ll just give you guys a bit to catch up. I’ll see you inside.” Your husband said, shaking Sam’s hand once more.

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell them we owned the place?” You asked, scrunching up your nose as you did. Sam looked down at the ground and shook his head.

“I guess I should have.” He admitted and you chuckled lightly.

“Sammy! We got to roll.” Dean called out, heading straight for the impala with the food bags in his arms.

You heard Sam’s sympathetic sigh as he gave you a tight-lipped smile and let his hand trace lightly down your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s ok.” You replied, shaking your head. As you watched them get into the impala, you could faintly hear the bitter sweet sounds of bickering between them as they shut the doors. With a brief wave from Sam out the passenger window, they were gone.

“You didn’t have to be like that, Dean.” Sam scolded. “You could have at least talked to her.”

“There’s nothing to say.” He replied, shrugging but keeping his eyes on the road.

“You really think I don’t know you keep a picture of the two of you in this car. I see you sneak it out after a bad hunt or when you don’t think anyone will notice.” Sam told him.

The sun had almost set and he reached over to flip on the headlights. As he did, he pulled a small photo from the compartment next to the steering wheel.

“What? You mean this old thing? I forgot it was even in here.” He lied. Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning to look out of the window.

Dean glanced at the photo in his hand, slightly running his thumb along the edge of it. Sam was right. There had been many nights over the last two years that felt longer than others and he would retreat to the solace of his precious impala, take out that photograph, maybe drink a little too much, and close his eyes to remember what it felt like to be in your arms.

“It doesn’t matter anymore anyway.” He muttered, surprising Sam. “It was all or nothing, and it looks like she ended up getting it all – everything she wanted that I couldn’t give her.”

“You could have that too, Dean.” Sam insisted, his brow furrowed. Dean huffed and rolled his eyes, glaring over at his little brother.

“What world are you living in, Sam?” He asked sarcastically.

“A world where my brother knows exactly who and what he wants, and for the past two years has been too stubborn to admit it. She loved you, Dean.”

“Yeah, and for a moment, I got real used to being someone she loved, but I can’t stand by and watch him be that person now. It’s over Sam. It was over a long time ago.”

Dean looked down once more at the picture he held in his hand and slowly let it go out the window, the wind catching it. Even though the impala’s taillights illuminated it’s way as it floated down to the road behind them, Dean never looked back to see it land.

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Not Losing You (Part 2)

Summary: The reader goes on a date with Dean where they talk about Dean’s good news...

Masterlist

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x reader

Word Count: 7,000ish

Warnings: language, life-threatening illness, implied past sexual harassment/assault

_____

“Hey,” said Dean that night when you got to the restaurant. He was in a gorgeous suit and you smiled, Dean looking like he was ready to jump out of his skin. “I got the best news ever this afternoon.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, Dean humming as you went over to the bar to wait for your table.

“Oh, yeah. Also, you look beautiful,” he said, tilting his head at you. “Very beautiful.”

“Thank you, handsome,” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “So what’s this good news?”

“My doctor called and said they found a matching donor. She’s gonna do it. I got a chance,” he said.

“That’s great!” you said, Dean smirking at you.

“He told me who it was,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “A certain Y/N Y/L/N. He said you just signed up yesterday.”

“Well, I figured I’d sign up to be on the list. I never thought I’d get called. I certainly never thought we’d end up matching,” you said.

“No. The odds...I should play the lottery,” he said.

“How about we take an okay feeling Dean first?” you asked.

“Yeah, I can get behind that,” he said, a waiter coming over to show you to your table.

Five minutes later you had a celebratory bottle of whiskey on the table, Dean’s face still in one of the largest smiles you’d ever seen.

“I don’t even care about having to deal with chemo for three solid weeks every day. Oh, I got my chance. I finally got my chance,” he said, pouring himself a refill.

“That part is gonna suck, huh,” you said.

“Big time. They’ll go hard. Basically they’re gonna wipe me out so when they take healthy cells from you and give them to me, those cells become my new ones. I’ll be on medication but who gives a fuck. I went from zero percent odds to like sixty something. I will take it,” he said.

“Wait. It’s not a hundred percent?” you asked, Dean munching on a roll and shaking his head. “Why?”

“Basically, my first like, month with your new cells, I’m gonna be in a special room to lessen the odds of me getting sick. I’ll basically have no immune system so if I catch a cold, I’m dead,” he said.

“That’s not fair,” you said.

“Y/N...I mean, I’m excited, don’t get me wrong. I haven’t been this excited since last night when I got to kiss you,” he said. You smiled and he laughed. “But there’s still a lot that can go wrong. All it is is a chance. I’ll take that over nothing any day.”

“It still sucks,” you said quietly.

“Wanna make a bet?” he asked.

“Shoot.”

“Two years from tonight, I bet I’m gonna make your night,” he said.

“You’re gonna make my night?” you teased. He nodded and smirked. “What does that even mean?”

“You gonna take the bet or what?” he asked.

“Two years…” you trailed off, closing your eyes.

“Sounds like you’re disagreeing which is awesome cause loser has to make the other cookies,” he said.

“Sure,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“So I gotta ask. Why don’t you think I won’t be able to do it? You thinking I won’t be around or you’ll have wised up by then?” he smiled.

“I think you’re the biggest flirt of a man I’ve ever met,” you said, looking across the restaurant.

“It doesn’t answer the question,” he said.

“I’ve never been in a relationship that long,” you said with a shrug.

“Me either,” he said.

“I’ve never been in one more than a few weeks and not in years,” you said, pursing your lips. “Sorry. Not a first date topic. Maybe that’s why I’m hopeless.”

“Funny. Since I met you, there’s a lot more hope in my life,” said Dean. You glanced down at your lap and he tapped his foot against yours gently. “Most people when they find out about me, that’s when they leave. For some reason, you’re not running away yet. You actually choose to stay and that makes me feel better. I don’t know why but you do and I don’t care how many boyfriends, how many dates, how many times you’ve had sex, if you even have...I don’t care about that stuff. I like you. A lot. Somehow you’re my once in a lifetime shot at beating this thing too and...I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“What are you saying?” you asked.

“I don’t know. Just don’t get down over your previous lack of a love life. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be...unless it’s you of course cause so far, this is awesome.”

“Casanova, you are,” you said, taking a sip of whiskey.

“You know it,” he said with a wink. “You and me? Dream team right here. Going all the way.”

“So why did you really take me to an extremely nice restaurant for our first date?” you asked.

“I wanted to,” he said softly, the teasing in his voice disappearing. “I’m not gonna be feeling good for awhile or be able to go out for months and months. I thought it’d be nice if we had a really nice date. Is it really too much?”

“Yes...and no,” you said, smiling at him, holding up your glass. “We’re celebrating after all.”

“Yeah, we are,” he said toasting your glass. “You’re out of a bad job, I have a chance again and you get to look at my adorable face all night.”

“Must you always ruin the moment?” you laughed.

“Defense mechanism. You’ll get used to it,” he said, taking another bite of his roll. “Food too. I love food.”

“What’s your favorite-“

“Pie,” he said. “Any kind of pie. We’re so getting some for dessert.”

“You like pie that much huh?”

“Almost as much as I like you,” he said.

“You ever gonna cool it with the flirting, Casanova?” you asked, leaning over and stealing the last roll from the basket.

“With you? I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Alright, what’s the damage,” you said, reaching for the bill when it came but Dean swiped it away first. “I get the whole being a gentleman thing, I do. But you are not paying for the whole dinner.”

“How exactly are you going to pay a bill that doesn’t exist?” he said. You furrowed your brow and he took out the receipt.

“Uh, we have to pay that,” you said. He rolled his eyes and showed it to you. You were a little surprised at how big it was but seeing the discount line made you tilt your head. “Zero dollars?”

“Yup. It’s my present. Some rich woman set up a fund awhile ago at the hospital for adult transplant patients. We each get one fun thing to do each year and the fund covers it. I picked our dinner if that’s okay. Not to sound cheap just...I can’t really afford a place like this on a normal day,” he said.

“You picked our first date for your once a year thing?” you asked. “Dean, you should have used it on you.”

“I did. Last year I went to a football game with my brother. I like using it to do things with people,” he smiled. “Want to go walk off our dinner?”

“Sure,” you said.

A few minutes later you were walking down the sidewalk, a light chill to the air. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and laid it on your shoulders, the two of you walking quietly for a few minutes. He bumped his hand against yours before he brushed the back of it, doing it two more times before he pulled it back.

“Shy, Dean?” you asked. His gaze was obviously on you but you didn’t look up. “You can hold my hand if you want, you know.”

“I’m not shy,” he said, taking hold of your hand, your fingers intertwining. You smiled and looked down at them, seeing Dean looking ahead.

“You’re shy when you like someone, huh,” you said. “Not the cocky flirty front.”

“Like I said, defense mechanism,” he said quietly.

“I like shy boys too,” you said. “Cocky boys that turn out to be shy are my favorite.”

“You don’t feel sorry for me?” he asked.

“Sorry for what?” you asked.

“Me. My situation. I only ask because it can happen,” he said. “Been down that road before.”

“Well, I can tell you that I’d be happier if you were healthy but no, I don’t feel sorry for you,” you said as you stopped at a corner, turning in your heels to face him. “Got it?”

“Yes, mam,” he said, smirking at you, tugging you along to walk more with him. “Warm enough?”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“Good. So what’s-” he said, his phone going off. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. You can answer,” you said. Dean smiled and pulled it out, putting it to his ear.

“Hey, Sammy. I’m on a date so...yes I am...what do you want nerd...hey, calm down it’s not...Sam. It’s not a cure...of course I’m excited...I can manage...I said I can manage...don’t you dare call mom. Fine, you can come up some...yeah...starts Monday...alright, I’ll see you. Love ya...shut up bitch,” he said as he hung up, shaking his head. “Sorry. My little brother was returning my call was all.”

“Is he your only sibling?” you asked.

“Just us,” he said. “What about you, sweetheart?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, yawning as you leaned against Dean hours later. He had his arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side.

“It’s late. I should get you home,” he said.

“Eh, we had fun,” you said, taking a deep breath. “You smell pretty.”

“Thank you,” he chuckled. “I’ll drive you home.”

“I thought they said you couldn’t drive?” you asked.

“Nah, I’m fine. Just right after something like that the doctors get leery,” he said as you wandered back down the sidewalk towards his car. “Rossy gave me the all clear.”

“Rossy?” you asked.

“Yeah. Dr. Ross. He hates it so naturally I call him Rossy. He calls me a smartass. I like him,” said Dean.

“Can I ask a personal question?”

“Shoot.”

“How do you deal with finding out something like that?” you asked.

“Well I’m twenty nine now. I found out when I was twenty three so I’ve had more than a few years to deal with it. I had no symptoms. It popped up in a blood test after I went in for some stitches for a cut I got at work. I was told it needed to be watched in case it started to develop into something worse which around two years ago it did. I was told about three years without a transplant and it’s starting to look that way,” he said. “I mean, what was your reaction when I told you?”

“I was surprised.”

“Yeah, that was pretty much my gut reaction too,” he chuckled. “I thought I was too young but apparently not. Then I denied it was actually happening, then I was angry and then I was upset and got more upset and more upset and then Rossy took me down to the kiddie wing of the hospital. Kind of puts it into perspective when you see that. I still had time and he told me to use it so that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“I don’t know if I could handle it,” you said, stilling when he paused at a black muscle car. “I forgot to mention your car is pretty awesome.”

“Well Baby likes you too,” he said. “Let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

“You live here?” asked Dean when he pulled up outside a house. “Like...here? No offense sweetheart but this ain’t exactly the safest part of town.”

“It’s cheap. It doesn’t bother me,” you said, giving him a smile he saw right through.

“The apartments in my complex gotta be better than…” he trailed off when you swallowed. “What aren’t you telling me, Y/N?”

“It’s nothing,” you said, putting a hand on the door. His other one grabbed your hand though and you slumped back into the seat.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Can you keep a secret?” you asked.

“Anything,” he said.

“I...don’t have a house,” you said.

“Okay…” said Dean. “Then why are we here?”

“It’s abandoned. I squat here,” you said, closing your eyes.

“Squat? Like...do you not have a home?” he asked.

“I was fired six months ago. I lost my house. I don’t…” you said, Dean staring at you. “It’s complicated. I know I lied. Sorry.”

“You’ve been staying in that house?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Or my car when I can’t find a place.”

“Where’s your car now?” he asked.

“Parked out back,” you said.

“Why don’t you get your car and follow me back to my place,” he said.

“Dean. I’m not going to spend the night,” you said.

“You are not sleeping in that house,” he said. “Either that or you let me pay for a hotel room.”

“Fine. Only one night.”

“Good morning,” said Dean when you woke up on his couch the next day. You remembered what had happened the night before and immediately pulled the blanket you’d been using over your face. “Oh, yes. Clearly you have disappeared and we won’t be having this conversation.”

“Can we forget that happened?” you asked, blanket being peeled back, Dean sitting on the edge of couch. He smiled and looked you over, running his hand over your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

“Alright,” you said.

“Monday when you were upset and pulled over. It didn’t even cross my mind until now...we were on a bridge,” he said. “Over the highway.”

“I was upset not...” you said, sitting upright and moving past him, ready to change out of his sweatshirt and into your dress and get the hell out of there.

“I didn’t say you were. I wanted to ask why you were upset that day is all,” he said. You sighed and stopped at the end of the couch, feeling Dean stand behind you. “You can tell me about your crap too. That’s part of a relationship.”

“I’m sorry but maybe this was a mistake,” you said. You finished heading into the bathroom, changing quickly. Dean was nowhere in sight when you left and you got out of there before he could try and stop you.

Monday Afternoon

“Hey,” you said, knocking on the door of Dean’s hospital room. You saw him walk out of the bathroom wearily, carrying a bin with him.

“What do you want,” he mumbled, crawling back into bed. He wrapped his blankets around himself and shivered, closing his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Just puking my guts out for funsies,” he said, wincing a little for a moment before he relaxed. “Chemo hits me hard is all and I asked what you wanted. I don’t need to see you, like at all.”

“Can I shut the door?” you asked.

“I don’t care. Just leave the way to the bathroom clear,” he said. You sighed as you closed the door to the room, Dean peeling open his eyes when you took a seat by the bed. “I’m not in the mood to talk.”

“Are you willing to listen?” you asked quietly.

“Are you some kind of pathological liar?” he said, giving you a bitch face.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” you said. “You’re very kind and I’m...I’m not worth the trouble.”

“I’ll decide that for myself,” he said. He sat up some, shivering a little.

“I’ve been out of work since I was fired,” you said closing your eyes. “I can’t get a loan or an apartment because...my old boss keeps stopping anything I try from happening. Jobs. Places to live. I pissed him off when I said no and what happened after that...I could move to a different city but I don’t really have anywhere to go. It hits me sometimes that this is my life now and that’s what happened last Monday. I was...I was having a bad day.”

“I talk to you about the fact I’m dying yet you were too embarrassed to tell me that?” he asked.

“I know,” you said, looking down to your lap.

“Hey,” he said. “Look at me.”

You forced your head up, Dean closing his eyes briefly before he slowly opened them.

“My baby brother, Sam, he works for one of the best law firms in town. We can talk to him and he’s gonna help you out with this dick of an ex-boss. I’d go kick his ass but I’m not really capable at the moment.”

“Dean.”

“I understand being embarrassed, sweetheart. You have no idea. People treat you different when you tell them certain things. But you don’t have to do that with me,” he said.

“I don’t know how to trust people anymore, Dean. I’ve been on my own for so long and then that happened. I’m-”

“Human. A very pretty human,” he said gently. “People don’t want to be my friend anymore, sweetheart. They don’t talk to me. You’re the only person that’s not a doctor or my brother I’ve talked to in a week. I am the fucked up, vulnerable one in this relationship. You have bad luck. I’m-”

“Don’t call yourself fucked up,” you said, scoffing at him. “You’re kind. How is that fucked up?”

“There’s other stuff,” he said. “Stuff I’m not ready to talk about. Someday but not today.”

“Alright,” you said, grabbing his hand and resting your head on his arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” you said.

“Can we agree from now on to stop being embarrassed in front of each other?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I can agree to that.”

“Awesome, cause I need to throw up again,” he said, quickly getting out of bed and jogging to the bathroom. You walked over and he was knelt down, shaking slightly as he caught his breath.

“Can I get you anything?” you asked, bending over and rubbing his back, Dean sighing.

“That feels nice,” he said. “Can you go ask a nurse where the fuck my anti-nausea medicine is?”

“Okay. I’ll go get someone,” you said. You kissed his temple, Dean smiling when he looked up at you. “Is it okay that I did that?”

“Sweetheart. I have cancer, not the black plague. You can still kiss me,” he chuckled. “Until otherwise noted, okay? I’ll let you know.”

“Alright. I’ll uh, I’ll go find a nurse.”

“Sup, Dean,” said a very tall man that walked into Dean’s room a few hours later.

“Hey, Sammy,” said Dean, lowering the volume on the TV. “Sam, this is Y/N.”

“Didn’t you two break up?” asked Sam. “After your first date?”

“Nah. You must be confused,” said Dean, smiling at you. “I don’t know how she did it but somehow the nurses fear her. She got me my medicine like that.”

“You’re the marrow donor too from what Dean said,” said Sam as he took a seat in the other empty chair.

“Yeah. It’s very strange how it worked out,” you said.

“I ain’t complaining,” said Dean, getting out of bed again.

“Stomach still upset?” you asked.

“No. Nature calls,” he said, slipping inside the bathroom. Sam gave you a long look and you frowned.

“What?” you asked.

“Listen. I know who you are but I don’t care. You’re helping my brother and that’s all that matters,” he said. You blinked slowly a few times, narrowing your eyes when you took in what he said.

“I don’t know who you think I am but I’m not it,” you said.

“You’re not the Y/N Y/L/N who worked at Borris & Longworth?” he asked.

“I used to work there but-”

“But yeah. I know who you are,” said Sam, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you stay away from my brother. Just donate the marrow and get lost.”

“Samuel,” barked through the room, Dean’s brow furrowed as Sam spun around in his seat. “If I had the energy, I’d punch you in the face, got it?”

“Don’t date this chick is all I’m saying. She’s bad news,” said Sam.

“Oh. I see you’re a believer of bullshit too,” said Dean, sitting back on the bed, shooting Sam a dirty look. “Why don’t you act like a real lawyer and get your facts straight before you threaten someone I care about, threaten someone that may end up saving my life because she wanted to donate. Don’t turn into an asshole like those pricks you work with, Sam. Just don’t. If that’s what you are now, then just leave. I’d rather remember you the way you were.”

“You’re not dying,” said Sam.

“Yeah, Sam, I am. I started chemo and radiation will start soon and in three weeks, I have the procedure done. I have a sixty two percent shot of surviving the transplant. Sixty two is a hell of a lot better than zero. It’s not a guarantee. It’s a chance. Time is the only proof of being better I’ll have. That is all I will ever get. There is no cure or guarantee. I am dying. If you’re gonna be rude to the one person who has willingly come into my life during this, then you can go,” said Dean.

Sam was quiet, staring at his lap while Dean crossed his arms and went back to watching TV.

“Sam,” you said. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

You stood and exited the room, Sam following after a moment. You wandered down the hall to the waiting area, taking a seat and resting your head in your hands.

“I know what Liam says about me,” you said. He took a seat beside you, still before he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.

“It’s not true, is it,” he said.

“He was the one that did those things to me,” you said, Sam wide eyed for a moment.

“Y/N. Why did you never go to the police if that’s true?”

“Because his Uncle is the commissioner. His Aunt worked at the bank my home loan was through. His family ruined my reputation in town so I can’t get a job better than a fast food place and even then, I get fired pretty randomly from those for bullshit reasons I know is him paying off people. He’s made my life a living hell. Everyone buys into it. Everyone but your brother,” you said. You took a deep breath and sighed.

“You’re saying he’s the one that sexually harassed you and...in that board room…” he said.

“Dean doesn’t know about the board room and I’d rather he not,” you said.

“Can I ask why?”

“Because it was humiliating and degrading and Dean has enough shit going on than my fucked up life. I don’t want him to worry or think about it all. He should focus on himself right now,” you said.

“You obviously are still getting to know my brother.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I honestly don’t care if you believe me or not. Do not upset your brother. Stress isn’t good for him.”

“I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you anyway,” said Sam.

“You were biting my head off not five minutes ago,” you said.

“...well if you’re the kind of person that wants to be with my brother given his situation, I seriously doubt you’re the kind of person who hurts someone else and then lies about it. Liam has always given me the creeps on the rare occasion I’ve met him. I’ll take your word over his,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Y/N. Thank you. For helping Dean. If I can help you with Liam, I will,” he said.

“I can’t afford a lawyer. I can’t afford anything,” you said as you stood up.

“You’re giving my brother a chance which is more than I can say I’m doing. Let me see what I can dig up,” he said.

“If you could just help it so I can get a decent job, that’s all I want,” you said.

“My fiance owns her own business. She’s looking for a second set of hands. It’s not much right now, it’s still a startup, but I can guarantee Liam can’t get you fired from that job,” he said.

“I’ll take it,” you said. “I’ll need time off in a few weeks for the transplant but-”

“Don’t worry about that. Jess wants Dean to get better too,” he said. You nodded and started to head back towards the room, Sam grunting. “Y/N. We need to sit down sometime and have a serious conversation about what exactly Liam did, what he’s still doing.”

“I know. Right now I just want to check on Dean though,” you said.

“Alright. Let me know when you’re ready to talk and we’ll do it.”

“Well look at you,” you said, smirking when you walked into Dean’s hospital room on Friday afternoon. “I like the new look.”

“A patch came out yesterday in the shower, I decided to just shave it off,” said Dean, running his hand over his head.

“Well I was hoping you wouldn’t need this yet but I brought you a present,” you said. You dug into your purse and pulled out a beanie, Dean chuckling at it.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, tugging it down over his head. “No presents though. You’re on limited funds still.”

“Well the one benefit of working for such a small business is that I got paid this week,” you said.

“Really? That’s great. So you like working on Jess’ t shirt shop?” he asked.

“Actually, yeah. I’m helping clean up the business side so she can focus on her designs. She seems really happy with me so far so there’s that,” you said.

“You better still be crashing in my apartment,” he said.

“I am. I’ll get my own place real soon,” you said.

“Stay. I’m going to be in this hospital for at least a few months,” said Dean. “Another week or so and then they’ll stick me in a different room when my immune system gets pretty weak. Then a week after that, they should end up zapping me and putting your marrow in me and then I go to a different special room to hang out by myself for a long time while my immune system tries to rebuild itself. Apparently it’s got a window and telecom so I can still tell you how hot you are.”

“We have to work on your priorities,” you said, Dean scooting over on his bed.

“Well come on, I have limited cuddle opportunities,” he said. You rolled your eyes and sat up next to him, Dean throwing his arm over your shoulders, your head resting on his chest. “That’s better.”

“How’d it go today?” you asked.

“I’m sick of it,” he said. “But I have to do it in order to kill my own immune system. It’s gonna get worse. I’m not looking forward to it.”

“What time do you have it tomorrow?” you asked.

“First thing. Why?”

“Can I come?”

“They come to my room and do it. It’s not anything special,” he said.

“Still. You spend a lot of time alone here. If you don’t mind that is,” you said.

“No, I don’t mind,” he said quietly. “I’d like it if I had some company.”

“I’ll be here,” you said. He kissed the top of your head and you smiled. “You’re so handsome.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, his cheeks flushing briefly. “Especially not anymore.”

“You have no idea how wrong you are,” you said, tilting your head and kissing his lips. He sucked in a breath, a soft smile on his face. “Very, very handsome.”

“Y/N,” he said, warm air pooling over your face.

“Yes, Dean?” you said, brushing your nose over his.

“I got this problem, you see. I think I’m starting to fall for you. But the thing is, I promised myself that if I started to do that, I’d tell you,” he said.

“Oh,” you said.

“Yeah. Honestly, it’s too fast. Like way too fast and odds are-”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you said. Dean titled his head and you smiled, brushing your lips over his. “Do I look like I care about whatever the fuck society says is an acceptable waiting period to tell someone you like them?”

“No,” he breathed out. “Then again, we’ve never been traditional.”

He kissed you gently, putting a hand on your cheek. Just as you were starting to melt into it he broke away and sat up, coughing hard. You went up with him and rubbed his back, Dean sounding like he was hacking something up before he got his breath back.

“I can’t even kiss you without feeling like shit,” he said.

“Let’s just cuddle,” you said, pulling him back down when you thought he was ready.

“Yeah. Yeah a cuddle sounds pretty good right now.”

Two Weeks Later

“Hey,” said Sam, poking his head in your hospital room with a smile. “How’d it go?”

“Okay. I’m a little achy but they said that was expected after them taking marrow. I can go home later today but I figured Dean’s getting his first treatment this afternoon and I wanted to say hi first,” you said.

“Yeah, he sent me down to check on you, told me to wait on you hand and foot if needed,” he said with a chuckle.

“I’m good. If you could help me out of bed so I can go see Dean that’d be great,” you said. He stepped over and put an arm around you, helping you stand for a moment.

“How bad does it hurt?” asked Sam.

“Not really. Dean’s the one I’m concerned about,” you said, Sam carrying most of your weight as you started to head out.

“You know that whole Liam thing…” said Sam. “I looked into it this week.”

“And?”

“And I brought it to my old law school professor. I don’t trust anyone else at my firm. He says you have a major case. Like, Liam himself is fucked but so is a lot of his family that covered stuff up for him or paid people off. He says there are really good odds that you can be paid damages for everything you’ve gone through and the missed work and the house and all of it. He’ll work it pro bono he said if this is the road you want to go down,” said Sam.

“I can’t keep living my life with him destroying so much of it. Things are looking up for me and I can’t worry about him anymore,” you said.

“Alright. I’ll keep working it then,” said Sam. He was quiet as you made your way upstairs to the special room Dean had been staying in the past few days. He was weak and they needed to minimize his chance of catching anything. “Hey, jailbird. I brought you a visitor.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” said Dean, better looking than you were expecting. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Hip’s a little sore but I’ll survive,” you said with a smile, Sam setting you down in the seat by the window. “You nervous?”

“Nah. I’m ready for it,” he said with a smile. “If this is the last conscious conversation we have, I got to say, I really regret never getting to have a proper makeout session with you.”

“Always the flirt,” you said, Dean chuckling quietly. “Dean.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got a pretty good reason to keep living. I got to make you fall in love with me afterall,” he teased.

“I’m gonna be right here in this chair with Sam and Jess when you wake up, okay?” you said.

“You three are gonna sit in the same chair?” he giggled.

“You’ll be fine, Winchester,” you said, Dean smiling softly. “You want anything for when you wake up?”

“Can you make sure I get an extra blanket in here?” he asked.

“Sure thing, babe,” you said, spotting Dr. Ross come down the hall. “Alright, Dean. Here goes nothing.”

One Week Later

“What does that mean,” said Sam, the both of you scowling in the waiting area just outside the room Dean was recovering in. “He was fine yesterday.”

“His white cell count was rising but it started to taper off last night and this morning’s test showed he’s down again,” he said.

“It means Dean’s body isn’t building it’s own marrow back up from mine,” you said. “Right?”

“In layman’s terms, he’s not adapting as well to the new marrow as we hoped for. He needs that to build up his immune system which without one...it’s a death sentence,” he said.

“Take more,” you said.

“Take more what?” asked Dr. Ross.

“Of my marrow,” you said. He closed his eyes and you stood up. “I’m fine. Take more and give it to him.”

“Marrow is a cell like anything else in your body. You need a certain amount. Think of it like blood donation. You can only donate so much blood before it’s problematic for the donor. I’m sorry but your body needs more time to regenerate what was taken,” he said.

“Take. One. More,” you said, Dr. Ross raising his chin. “My body can handle it. I’ll stay in the hospital a few days or however long to recover but just take it. All three of us know I’m the only one that can do it and odds are if he doesn’t get more, he dies. So just take one more damn sample. Please.”

“One more sample,” said Dr. Ross. “If we’re doing this, we need to do this now, understand?”

“Don’t worry about work,” said Sam. “Jess is cool with it. It’s fine. Whatever we gotta do to help Dean, we’ll do it.”

“You will need to rest in bed. No walking around, no visiting Dean after this. I will strap you down if I have to. Have I made myself clear?” said Dr. Ross.

“Yes. Anything to help Dean out, even a little.”

“Hi,” said Jess when you woke up that evening. She was munching on some pasta and offered you some before you shook your head. “Sam’s with Dean so I figured I’d keep an eye on you.”

“I feel like shit,” you said, reaching for some water before she handed it to you.

“Dean’s numbers bounced back to where they’re supposed to be at this point,” she said.

“Good,” you breathed out, closing your eyes again.

“So while the boys are away, I got a slight business proposal for ya,” she said.

“Jess, I’m too tired to think about work,” you said. “I wrote instructions in the spreadsheet.”

“No, not work work. You’re really smart, way smarter than I’ll ever be at the business stuff. I was wondering if instead of me being in charge you’d want to be partners,” she said.

“Partners?” you asked, opening your eyes.

“Yeah. 50/50. You do more work than I do nowadays. It’s not the most money in the world but I think together we could really do something big, like expand and do even local stuff, not just online,” she said.

“What’s the catch?” you asked. “I don’t have any money to put in right now.”

“I know. We don’t need more money right now. I could really use your help though. You know how to sell stuff and plan and budget. I could really use you,” she said.

“Alright,” you said with a nod and a smile. “Deal.”

“Awesome. Now try some of this fettuccini, it’s amazing.”

“Hey, Dr. Ross,” you said, wearily opening your eyes late that night after Jess and Sam had gone home. “How’s Dean?”

“Stable. Not out of the woods yet,” he said, looking over your chart.

“He would have died without the extra transplant, wouldn’t he,” you said.

“The odds weren’t in his favor. We took a larger sampling than before which is why you may be feeling a bit run down. You can’t give again no matter what happens with Dean, not for a few months at least,” he said. “Is that clear?”

“Yes,” you said. “What do you think Dean’s chances are?”

“You’re not a family member so technically I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this,” he said.

“Rossy,” you said, the doctor smirking for a moment.

“I’d say he has a fifty percent chance of keeping his numbers building. If he makes it through that and to the fourth week, I think it goes up a little. The next year will be the most telling. He could have a completely normal life after this. He needs to survive the next few days first though,” he said.

“So there’s a fifty percent chance of that?” you asked. Dr. Ross pursed his lips and glanced down. “Worse?”

“The need for the second injection...it doesn’t bode well,” he said.

“Give me a number.”

“I’d say he’s got a 50% chance of deteriorating again. If that happens...it’s unlikely he can recover from it,” he said. You nodded, Dr. Ross setting your chart back down but he paused by the end of the bed.

“His numbers are starting to go down again, aren’t they.”

“They stopped building from earlier in the evening. It’s not a good sign. Odds are...would you like to go see him?” he asked. You nodded and he helped you into a wheelchair, pushing you to the elevators before you took off on Dean’s floor, stopping outside the window, Dean barely awake.

“Hey. There’s my gorgeous girl,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’m kinda tired sweetheart if that’s okay.”

“It’s okay. You can go to sleep, Dean. I’ll be right here,” you said. He gave a small nod and you saw his heartbeat slow on the monitor, Dr. Ross telling you he was fast asleep. “Thanks for letting me talk to him again. How fast...if his numbers drop...how fast will it...”

“Probably sometime tomorrow,” he said. “Could be a little longer. We don’t know anything yet but it’s not looking good. Tonight will be very telling.”

“Can I stay here for a while?” you asked, your bottom lip quivering.

“Yes. Just let a nurse know when you want to go back,” he said before he turned to go. “Y/N. You gave him a chance...and some happiness. That’s more than he ever wanted.”

“He deserves better,” you said.

“Most people do,” he said as he walked away. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Going back to your room would be the easy thing to do.

You released the air in your lungs and tried to get comfortable before you decided to sit through what was going to be the longest night of your life.

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #au

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freakwiththeknifecollection · 4 years

Note

HEY DEAN/JO: who’s messier, who PDA’s more (and who’s embarrassed by it), who’s funnier drunk, who’s on their phone more, who’s music taste is more embarrassing, who reads more, who’s always fixing things around the house, who cooks and who cleans up?

THIS IS THE BEST AAA OK

Who's messier?

That would have to be Jo. Dean is very tidy. He doesn't know until she moves in with him and he's like

(Not literally, if he called her a bitch he would be dead. But you get the point.)

But really he's the one that's like "Is it really so hard to put your clothes in the hamper? It's right there."

Who PDA's more?

Dean, 100%

Kissing her, of course

Touching her. Not like groping her in public lmao but one of his hands might wander to her waist, her back pocket, or the inside of her leg when they're sitting in a booth together

Whispering in her ear

Who's more embarrassed by it?

Jo for sure. She smiles with a slight blush and pushes him away when he kisses her or touches her in public

But she turns RED when he whispers in her ear (which has more to do with what he says than the fact that they're in public, BUT IT DOESN'T HELP)

Who's funnier drunk?

THAT'S SUCH A GOOD QUESTION

After typing these out... I've decided my answer is I don't know but here's both anyway

When Jo is drunk, everything is funny. She's just having a good time. She's just silly and fun. Dancing. So much dancing. Dean doesn't even need to drink to have fun at that point, it's just a joy to watch her

When Dean is drunk (the fun kind of drunk, anyway, not the "I hate myself" drunk) he's like. The Party Drunk. He's LOUD and he plays (and starts) drinking games and he's impulsive and a liability tbh he'll be like "WHO WANTS TO SEE ME JUMP OFF THE ROOF INTO THE POOL" (Jo follows him closely though just so he doesn't kill himself lmao)

If they're both drunk? Somebody needs to keep an eye on them or they're going to end up with a tattoo or in the emergency room

Who's on their phone more?

Well, when it comes to phones, Dean is... a little bit of an old man. He knows how to use everything, but he doesn't use social media at all, so Jo is definitely on her phone more. She has an instagram and it's pictures she takes on their road trips and pictures of them and pictures she takes of him when he's not looking (they're pretty though. Sometimes they're funny. Sam follows her and likes all her posts, but he doesn't tell Dean, especially about the funny ones.)

Who's music taste is more embarrassing?

Depends on who you ask. Dean would say Jo's is more embarrassing because she likes top 40 (a lot of classic top 40 though, but modern stuff too)

Jo would call him a hypocrite cause he has Taylor Swift on his playlist and it's basically like

Who reads more?

OOOH

Jo reads more but Dean reads too!! My boy is not stupid he reads!!! He's read Vonnegut and Aesop damnit!!

Anyway yeah. She brings books on road trips because they can be reeeally long sometimes.

Sometimes 🥺🥺 they read in bed together 🥺🥺

Who's always fixing things around the house?

Dean!!! He loves fixing things!!!

Who cooks and who cleans up?

Dean LOVES to cook so he does mostly!!

Jo washes the dishes and Dean dries 🥺🥺🥺

#i did it... i loved these so much but it took me awhile LMAO #thank you for these bless you #these are my fave probably #the last couple were really short because it's almost 6 and I'm losing steam lmao #dean x jo #chestervelle #long post #answered #drunk headcanons #PDA headcanons #chestervelle headcanons

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theshopislocal · 3 years

Text

corinth rains

New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

(also on AO3)

chapter eight

Funnily enough, the wings in Heaven aren’t anything to write home about.

Dean glances down at his half-eaten lunch, licking Buffalo sauce off the side of his thumb. He’s pretty sure the plate - with its lopsided tower of wings, side of celery, and little cup of chunky bleu cheese - is meant to replicate one he’d had at a greasy spoon sixty odd years ago. To the naked eye, the place had looked like a shithole - just another offramp dive in B.F.E., Nebraska. But the wings - damn, the wings - had been out of this world; crunchy and greasy, sour and salty, and drenched in sauce hot enough to make his eyes water.

Dean sucks his teeth and grimaces. He’s not sure what it is, but Heaven missed the mark on this one. He’s sure it’s the same recipe as the roadside joint, but there’s something not quite right. It certainly doesn’t help that his pint glass keeps automagically refilling with Stella Artois instead of El Sol. He grumbles with every sip and pretends like the mild flavor isn’t growing on him. No way in hell is he letting Charlie turn him onto her trendy lesbian beer.

“Hey.”

Dean’s head snaps up, shoulders going tense. They loosen a bit as Sam slides into the other side of the booth. He’s wearing a denim button-down that Dean’s pretty sure was one of his, and his stupid hair is extra floppy. He slides his dorky messenger bag off his shoulder, settling it at his side.

Dean knocks back the rest of his beer in a thick swallow and sets his little cardboard coaster on the rim. “Heya.”

Sam gives him a smile, all white teeth and deep dimples. Dean tries to give him one back, but it feels more like a grimace on his face.

Sam notices, of course. “You alright?” he asks, dipping his head to meet Dean’s lowered eyes.

Dean shakes his head, then corrects it to a nod. “Yeah,” he grunts and nods toward his plate. “Ate too many wings.”

Sam’s eyebrows climb his forehead, smile going crooked. “Didn’t think that was possible for you.”

Dean splays his hands in a shrug. “I contain multitudes.”

His stomach chooses that moment to grumble ominously, and Dean hunches forward, pressing his forearm across his belly.

Sam, the little shit, smirks wide. “I’m sure.”

Dean rolls his eyes and reaches for his glass. He tips the little coaster off and watches as the glass refills itself. It’s a darker orange-ish color now, rather than light blonde. He takes an experimental sniff: El Sol, this time. He feigns relief in case anyone’s looking (no one is), and peers back up at Sam.

He’s holding the little laminated sample menu, eying over it while his fingers drum a beat against the tabletop. He chews his lips, eyes a little wide, and Dean recognizes the expression in an instant: Sam is Up To Something.

Dean sighs and sets his beer down with a thunk. “What.”

Sam’s head pops up like a frickin’ meerkat, all innocence and feigned confusion. “What what?”

Dean arches an eyebrow in a glare. “You’ve got excited puppy face,” he grumbles and ignores Sam’s snort. “What is it.”

Sam huffs a fake laugh and shakes his head. “I don’t...” he starts, then cuts a considering look at Dean. Dean stares back, blank-faced and expectant, and Sam blows out a sigh, eyes downcast. “Yeah, okay. Look, I was—” he cuts himself off, pulling his lip through his teeth. “... I was thinking about Cas.”

Cas.

Dean probably should have seen that coming.

Sam had been rather circumspect in those few months between Cas’ death and Dean’s own; no offhand utterances of his name, no needling questions about how exactly Cas had summoned the Empty, no mention whatsoever of the bedroom door he’d often found Dean stood in front of - unable to open, unable to turn away.

Sam had been kind in his silence.

But if Dean knows Sam at all - and he certainly does - the silence wouldn’t have lasted forever. Kid’s too smart, too curious, too empathetic by half; sooner or later, he would’ve broached the subject - for Dean’s sake, if not his own.

And if Dean’s being entirely honest with himself - which, frankly, isn’t really his game - he can acknowledge the inherent unfairness of it. For all Dean prefers to bottle things up until they ferment in his belly, Sam is (somehow) a well-adjusted adult with proportionate emotional intelligence to boot. Sam had deserved to mourn Cas - whether or not Dean had allowed himself to do the same - and Dean hadn’t let him.

So, of course Sam is thinking about Cas. After all, he’d loved him nearly as much as—

Dean winces hard, eyes squeezing shut for half a second. “Yeah?” he asks. His eyes flick back open, and he stares down at his plate. The wings have gone cold, the celery warm and floppy.

Sam nods. “Yeah. I mean,” he gestures vaguely with the little menu, “Eileen says he does a lot of work for the Arch, but...” He trails off for a short moment then shrugs. “We’ve been here for a while. I sorta figured he would’ve... dropped in by now?”

I’ve been busy.

I have responsibilities.

I’m needed elsewhere.

I’m sor—

Dean hunches forward, and his stomach grumbles again. “Yeah,” he murmurs, and he feels nauseated, hollow. Too many wings, indeed.

Sam tilts his head in a crooked nod. “Yeah, it’s kinda weird that he hasn’t, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response, and Dean doesn’t interject. “So,” he goes on, leaning forward across the table, “I did a little digging.”

Dean’s head pops up, and he finally meets Sam’s eye. Sam’s brow is raised, the puppy expression back at full volume. Dean frowns, wary. “Digging?”

Sam nods excitedly and turns to his bag. He unzips it, sticking in a freakishly large hand to rummage about, and pulls out a thick book.

A beige leather book. With gold insignia on the spine.

“I checked this out,” he says and sets the book on the table with a soft thunk, “from the Library.”

Wait. What? “You- the Library?” Is Charlie making magic plutonium bombs for everyone now? “How’d you get in?”

Sam gives him a funny look, squinty-eyed and confused. “I made an appointment.”

Of course he did. “Right,” Dean grunts, folding his arms on the edge of the table.

Sam leans closer, and he smiles almost comically wide. “Dean, the Library? It’s awesome,” he gushes, and Dean chews on a smile. “They’ve got everything ever written ever,” Sam crows. “Literally every single—”

“Kevin sign you up for a library card?” Dean interjects with a crooked smile.

Sam’s face freezes, eyes darting away in mild embarrassment, and Dean snorts a startled laugh. “You’re shittin’ me.”

Sam rolls his eyes around a tiny smile. “Shut up.”

Dean gives a bark of laughter. “Man, you’re a nerd.”

“Anyway,” Sam says and gives Dean a mild glare. “This,” he begins, smoothing a palm over the front of the book, “is the history of Heaven. Since Jack remade it.”

Dean cranes his neck to read the upside down lettering, and Sam turns the book toward him.

Recens Historia Caelorum Vol. I.

Dean frowns and gives a little shrug. “Okay.”

Sam nods and sucks in a breath, one hand coming up to tuck his hair behind his ear. Dean’s eyes soften at the gesture; for all he’d wanted to be a lawyer, or a hunter, or a freakin’ superhero, Sam had always been a Man of Letters at heart.

Sam plants his hands flat on the table - the final step of his pre-lore ritual - and Dean suppresses a smile. “Okay, so,” Sam starts, and Dean settles in. “Basically, Jack arrives in heaven with the seraph Castiel.” Seraph? “Presumably, he—”

“Pulled him out of the Empty,” Dean offers.

“And restored his Grace,” Sam nods. “So. They get here and start fixin’ the place up. Opening up all the personal heavens, getting rid of the whole greatest hits shtick, right?” Dean nods along; Bobby had told him this much. “Then, get this,” Sam continues, leaning ever further forward, “Jack leaves.”

Dean frowns, and his eyes flick up from where they’d been staring sightlessly at the book cover. He shakes his head, lips pursing. “He leaves?”

Sam quirks a brow and tips his chin down in a nod. “Yeah. Apparently he decided he wanted to rebuild all the universes Chuck destroyed. Not just ours.”

Dean’s eyebrows pop up, and he feels a sort of mild, obligatory guilt uncurl in his stomach. Frankly, he’d all but forgotten about the infinite other universes that Chuck - in his epic, cosmic bitch fit - had dusted just for kicks.

Dean shakes his head. “Shit.”

Sam huffs a laugh. “Yeah. But,” he says and raises a forefinger, “Heaven’s not finished.” He makes a vague gesture towards the nearby window overlooking the forest. “Still isn’t.”

And Dean’s noticed that, too. Spending hours (or minutes, or maybe decades) on the highway, Dean’s come across some odd spots: places where the grass is un-trampled and a little too green, the ground too flat, the trees too young. Whenever he passes one, he gets a strange feeling, like he’s watching a silent movie, or staring at a blank canvas. He feels it at his little bunker out in the greyscale marsh, and he felt it at the tiny forest in the endless yellow field. Like a song without a refrain, something is missing - unfinished.

“So,” Sam goes on, and Dean glances back up at him, shaking off the odd sensation, “Jack’s gotta leave someone in charge of the place, right?” Sam pauses for a moment, brow raised, and Dean nods belatedly. “Right,” he continues. “But it’s gotta be someone who knows Heaven’s ins and outs. Someone who can defend its weak points. Someone who actually—” Sam tilts his head with a dry smile, “—cares about its inhabitants.” He gives Dean an expectant look, brow raised and lips sucked in.

Dean frowns. Someone who understands Heaven and knows how to protect it; an angel, certainly - maybe a strategist or a soldier. But someone compassionate, too - someone devoted the people here, these wandering wayward souls.

Because you cared, I cared.

Dean blinks hard - once, twice - and something rattles in his chest. “Cas,” he whispers.

Sam gives a slow nod. “Right,” he murmurs back, face going oddly soft. Dean frowns up at him, and Sam schools his expression back into business mode. “Right,” he repeats and licks his lip. “Problem is, Cas is just a seraph. He doesn’t have the juice to run this place. So, Jack—” He reaches across the table for the book and turns it towards himself, flipping it open to a page bookmarked with a gold ribbon. He smoothes his pointer finger over a line of text and reads, “—imbued the grace of Castiel with His divinity, in excess.”

Jack imbued... what?

Dean shakes his head. “The hell does that mean?”

Sam tilts his head in a crooked nod and flips to the next page. “I was confused too,” he offers, “until I read this.” He flips the book toward Dean and taps two fingers over a block of text near the top of the page.

Dean frowns and looks down, squinting at the small font. The top left corner reads Chapter XV, the text near Sam’s finger marked with a tiny superscript, 21.

Dean hunches forward, eyes tracing over the words in the dim light.

And the Lord God summoned into His hands four blades, twisted and golden, hilted in black. He cast His holy gaze upon them, and they were dissolved. Let all instruments return to dust, as all mortal flesh keeps silent.

Dean rereads the words, and rereads them again. Something is growing in the back of his mind, spreading against the inside of his skull like feathered shadows—

“Four knives with twisted gold blades,” Sam posits, leaning forward. “Sound familiar?”

I’m not just powerful now, Lucifer had said, beating Dean bloody, suspended in the air. I am power. And I don’t need a blade to end you, pal.

Dean had clung to the last vestiges of consciousness, had felt his destiny - Chuck’s shitty Joseph Campbell knockoff - rising to meet him. Sam had called his name, all fear and desperation, and Dean had extended a bruise-knuckled hand to catch—

“The Archangel blade,” Dean whispers.

Sam gives a solemn nod and taps his finger on the page. “Jack destroyed them - all of them - the same day he—” Sam angles the book towards himself and turns back a page, neck craning around, “—imbued Cas’ Grace.”

Dean feels his spine go stiff, brow furrowing low.

“Dean,” Sam murmurs, “I don’t think Cas is a Seraph any more.”

Jack has put a great deal of faith in me. Cas’ voice echoes through Dean’s head, and his jaw clenches tight, throat constricting.

Sam continues, voice pitched low. “And I don’t think he just... works for the Arch.”

I have responsibilities, Cas had said, just before his wings had painted stark shadows on the walls. Massive and fluttering, they’d shifted Cas’ posture, like he wasn’t quite used to them, their heft a foreign weight at his back.

Dean had known in that moment that something was different, had felt it in the buzzing electricity of Cas’ presence, the way the little hairs on Dean’s arms had stood up.

Dean swallows, hard and dry, and says simply, “He is the Arch.”

Sam raises his eyebrows and hums. “Mm. The Arch...” he shrugs with bemused smile, “...angel.”

Dean blinks several times in succession, eyes falling back to the bookmarked page. Let all instruments return to dust, as all mortal flesh keeps silent.

Cas is an archangel - the Archangel - immortal and adamantine, now that God himself has destroyed his only weakness. And Dean is an eternal soul, freed from the bonds of his mortal body - limitless and enduring in the endless expanse of Heaven. They’re stood now on evener ground than they’ve ever been before.

Dean glances towards the window, casting his eyes out to the distant mountain - jutting up from the ground, imposing and unscalable like a border wall.

Sam huffs a short laugh. “Explains why he hasn’t stopped by for a beer.”

Dean turns back toward his brother, but Sam’s eyes are fixed on the little plastic menu.

Dean harrumphs - sharper than intended from the tightness in his throat - and reaches for his beer. His stomach grumbles as he takes a gulping pull. It’s skunky and flat, bitter and watery, and he doesn’t taste anything at all.

chapter seven | chapter nine

table of contents

#corinth rains #destiel #deancas #fanfiction #post-canon #slow burn #dean-centric #tw: alcohol

1 note · View note

the-real-anywolf · 4 years

Text

Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: My Black Cat Brings All the Boys to the Yard

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Benadryl Makes an Appearance, Curses, Movie References, Cutesy pet names, multiple POVs, You're Welcome For The Earworm, Happy Friday 13th

Summary: When a cute black cat turns up at the bunker, the Winchesters realize it isn't quite as it seems. Also, despite it triggering Dean's allergies, he can't help liking the little furball. It's a shame he can't keep him.

Written by: @eyesofatragedy67 (Eyes_of_a_Tragedy) & @punk-is-notdead (tfw_cas)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21775495

Day 13: My Black Cat Brings All the Boys to the Yard

Dean was walking through the door of the bunker when a dark blur ran in front of him and down the stairs. What the hell?

"Sammy! Something's headed your way!"

Sam looked startled as the blur shot towards him, and brushed against his legs. He looked down at it and his features softened. “It’s a cat. What’s it doing in here?”

Eyes watering, Dean started heading toward the bathroom. "Hell if I know. Be right back. I'm gonna grab some Benadryl."

He rushed down the hall, nose already starting to run. Crap, he needed to nip this in the bud. Rifling through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, he swallowed two of the little pink pills dry and shoved some tissue up his nose.

When he got back to the library, Sam had the furry menace on the table and was lightly petting its head. “Where’d you come from, huh?” he asked curiously.

"Dude, don't get attached. You know we can't keep it," Dean mentioned, somewhat regretfully, as he passed through on his way to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen.

“Shame,” Sam said sadly. “He’s a friendly little thing. And look at his eyes… they’re blue!”

Dean poked his head out the kitchen door. "Blue?"

“Yeah, bright blue. I’ve never seen them on a cat before.”

Water in hand, Dean stepped into the room, took a swig out of the bottle, and wandered closer. He was about ten feet away from Sam and the cat when he started sneezing, completely dislodging the tissues. "Man, I hope this stuff kicks in quick."

“Don’t worry, I’ll put him back outside soon. I just wanna give him some water first. Maybe some bacon.”

Dean moved close enough to pass Sam his water bottle. He had to wipe the tears from his eyes to do it, though. "I didn't think cats were supposed to eat bacon. I don't want you to make him sick." He paused, "Wait, how do you know the cat's male?"

Sam scrunched up his nose, and thought for a moment. “I… don’t know. I just got this feeling, you know? I could just tell.” He shrugged for emphasis.

"You could just tell," Dean repeated with a mocking quirk of his eyebrow. "Okay, Dr. Doolittle. Well, since you're so in tune, why don't you find out if the little guy has a home? I'm sure someone's missing him."

Sam rolled his eyes and shot Dean one of his best bitchfaces. “How the hell am I supposed to do that? I don’t have a microchip scanner, and I can’t exactly ask him… her.”

The cat hissed, and Dean said, "Uh, think maybe you had it right the first time, Sammy." Whereupon, the cat meowed then plopped his butt down on one of the books on the table. "Huh…"

“It’s about curses and how to remove them.” Sam peered closely at the book and some of his hair draped onto the cat. Dean could have sworn that the cat gave a look of distaste before it got up and moved away from the dangling locks.

"What if this is like The Colonel?" Dean asked. "I'm not drinking the fur, dude. It's your turn to take one for the team."

Sam didn’t look too pleased at that suggestion. “I don’t think anyone will have to drink any potions, Dean. This isn’t Hogwarts. But I do think it’s trying to communicate with us.”

Damn, Dean was kinda looking forward to seeing Sam chase bugs. "It'd be easier if you drank the potion, just sayin'."

“Not if I don’t have to,” Sam muttered, then spoke directly to the cat. “What are you trying to tell us, little buddy?”

"Yeah, little guy, did Timmy fall down the well?" He could swear he saw the cat roll its eyes.

“Very funny,” Sam said, and he definitely did roll his eyes. “Can we be serious now, and not piss him off?”

Dean looked away from the furball and over to his brother. "What? You're the one who refuses to drink the drink so I don't have to die." And he promptly started sneezing again.

Sam sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. “You sure are set on me drinking that potion, aren’t ya? Let me just try something first, okay?”

"Fine, but if it doesn't work, you suck it up and chug, 'k?" He glanced over just in time to see the cat bat the bottle of water off the table.

“Sure,” Sam huffed. “Nothing I want more than to talk ‘cat’.”

"So, what's your idea?" Dean hollered, grabbing a dish towel from the kitchen to mop up the spilled water.

“Observe and report,” Sam replied. “Before one of us goes off half-cocked, let’s see if he can communicate in his own way.”

"I don't know about you, but I always go off fully-cocked. You know, they make pills for that now, Sam." Dean draped the towel over the back of a chair and turned to see the cat twirling around Sam's legs. "Sounds like the little guy likes your idea, though."

“Your jokes aren’t getting any funnier, Dean,” Sam said, reaching down and scooping up the cat. “What do you think, cat?”

The cat purred, then gave Dean a disapproving look - at least that’s what it looked like, anyway.

“Let’s give it twenty four hours, and if we can’t figure out what he’s trying to tell us, then I’ll drink the potion. Deal?” Sam added.

"Fine. Whatever," Dean muttered. He walked past them, but couldn't resist scratching the cat behind the ears as he passed. His eyes started watering as he left the room.

***

Later that night, Dean walked into the kitchen to find Sam there with the cat. He was sitting at the table, placing random types of food in front of the feline. Dean watched with fascination as the cat repeatedly turned his nose up at the different options.

With a sniffle, Dean turned to the fridge and started pulling out ingredients to make hamburgers. He washed his hands thoroughly before unwrapping the beef and adding some seasonings. He was shaping it into patties when he heard a plaintive yowl at his feet. Looking down, he saw a pair of electric blue eyes staring up at him.

"Hey, cat," Dean started, only to be interrupted by the animal leaping onto the counter next to him. "Hey! You can't be up here, fuzzball."

The cat did what cats do: ignored him. Instead, it stared intensely at Dean's hands and the raw meat he was working into a thick ball to be squished flat.

"Mrow," the cat trilled, head tilting to the side.

"Sorry, little guy. No hamburger for you."

The cat pawed at the package of sliced cheddar and looked back up at him with wide eyes.

"Not gonna work on me, fluffy. I've been on the receiving end of puppy eyes the likes of which you'll never know."

With a tail twitch of disgust, Dean watched as the cat hopped back off the counter and moved back to Sam. His brother scooped the cat up in his arms and sat him down in his lap.

Dean continued cooking his burgers, listening as Sam had a one-sided conversation with his new friend.

“It’s no use looking longingly at Dean’s burgers. I know they look delicious - and they are - but they’re not cat food. You’re supposed to eat fish, or chicken, or… what the hell do cats eat? Not gonna tell me, huh?”

Sam sighed, and shook his head. “You must be hungry by now. Just try some of this tuna? Mmmm… tasty,” He said, unconvincingly.

Dean put a burger on the table for Sam and said, "Dammit, Sam, don't feed him that. What if he's like one of those gremlin things from the movie and you're not supposed to feed him after midnight?"

“This is real life, not a movie.” Sam rolled his eyes (one of these days he was going to get stuck like that), as he picked up the burger and took a bite. He and the cat stared at each other for a moment, and Sam wagged his finger at the feline. “Sorry, dude, this is mine.”

The cat hissed and hopped off Sam's lap, trotting over to Dean.

"Don't look at me, Gizmo. I'm not the pushover in this household."

“Yeah, sure you’re not,” Sam laughed. “A pretty bartender just has to call you handsome, and you’re like putty in her hands.”

The cat appeared to be particularly pissed at Sam’s remark; he skulked over to the corner and sat, apparently ignoring them both.

"I had an idea. I mean, it seems like he understands us, so what if we try some kind of written communication?" Dean asked, shooting the cat a questioning look.

“A pencil and a piece of paper?” Sam asked with a grin. “Yeah, I can make dumb jokes too.”

The cat raised its head and looked over at them, but stayed where it was.

“Do you mean something like laying letters out and asking him to pick the right ones?” Sam asked.

"Sure, like Scrabble tiles, or a ouija board… hell, even just drawing letters on a sheet of paper for him to point at," he shrugged and looked over at the cat. "What do you think, Gizmo?"

“That’s actually a pretty good suggestion.” Sam looked impressed. “I don’t think drawing letters on the paper would work though, unless we cut them out. They need to be spaced out so that it’s clear which ones he picks.”

"I'm going to go see if I can find the Scrabble game, maybe the ouija board. I'm pretty sure they're in a closet in the hall."

“Okay, I’ll take him outside, in case he wants to do his business,” Sam said, picking Gizmo up and carrying him in the direction of the stairs. The cat struggled in his arms, and Dean was pretty sure Sam got a couple of scratches at least, with the way he cursed at the creature.

The first closet he tried was full of boxes of Sam's books. Nerd. Digging through the second closet, Dean found the stash of board games, revealing Scrabble and the ouija board. He grabbed them both, just in case, and returned to the war room.

Sam was descending the stairs, looking pretty pissed, as Gizmo ran in front of him. “I thought we were friends, but the little fucker sure has some vicious claws. I hope he doesn’t feel the same way about word games.”

Dean pulled the ouija board out of its box. "I thought we could try this first, since it has 'yes' and 'no' options. Figured maybe we could try asking some questions first." He looked down at the cat, "How's that sound, fuzzball?"

The cat didn’t look too interested either way; for some reason he seemed to be trying to stick his tongue in Dean’s coffee. That was just weird… cats didn’t drink coffee, did they?

“What are we gonna ask him?” Sam asked, picking up Dean’s cup and taking it to the sink. “Is there anything you like eating other than burgers?”

The cat jumped up on the table and put his paw down on 'yes'. "Huh," Dean pulled his henley up over his nose and called out to Sam, "Looks like it's working!"

“Huh,” Sam remarked. “Wish I could work out what it was. Got any other ideas for yes or no questions?”

"Uh, hmm…" Dean made some serious eye contact with the cat. Quirking a brow, he continued, "Okay, so is it safe to assume you're cursed?"

Without hesitation, the cat placed his paw on ‘yes’ again.

“Good one,” Sam said. “Er… I don’t suppose you know how we can break the curse?”

The cat insistently tapped the 'yes' and looked up at them.

"Well, okay, then," Dean replied with genuine curiosity. "How complex should these questions get, Sam?"

“Hmmm, good question. He seems to understand everything we say, so I think we can go with quite complex. What do you say we try with the Scrabble tiles now, so we don’t have to stick with yes or no?”

Dean opened the box and grabbed the purple Crown Royal bag they kept the tiles in. Emptying it onto the table, he started flipping all of them face up. "Let's give it a shot."

Sam and Dean spent the next couple of minutes spreading the tiles over the table’s surface, removing the blank ones, as they worked. Dean couldn’t help spelling out a couple of naughty words, but he quickly shuffled the tiles around again, hoping Sam hadn’t noticed.

“Okay, what are we going to ask first?” Sam asked, addressing Dean, before staring inquisitively at the cat.

"What's your name?" Dean had jokingly been calling the cat Gizmo, but if he had a real name...

The cat began walking amongst the tiles, obviously looking for a particular letter. He stopped when he found it, and tapped his paw on it as he’d done with the ouija board.

“C,” said Sam, excitedly.

They watched as the cat began searching again, then indicated another letter.

"A," Dean added, then looked over. "We know you're a cat, dude. How about we just stick with Gizmo for now." He glanced at Sam and wondered out loud, "I wonder how he got cursed?"

The cat pushed an 'I' to the center of the table, then found a 'D'...

"Dude, I think he's calling us idiots," Dean scoffed.

“No, I’m sure he isn’t doing that. Especially as we’re trying to help him.”

The cat carried on, finding an ‘I’, and a ‘T’.

“I think you might be right.” Sam frowned down at the cat and its growing collection of letters.

Dean sat in one of the chairs, sneezing into his sleeve. "Bobby? Is that you?"

The cat meowed and put his paw on his head in what looked like exasperation, then touched an 'M'.

“M,” Sam said, peering at it as if he was trying to calculate pi in his head. “Mom? No? Er… my name is…? Are you Crowley and you’re calling us morons?” He turned to Dean and sighed. “This isn’t working out so well, is it? So far we’ve got a C-A-D-I-T, and an M. What the hell is that supposed to spell?”

Dean sniffled and said, "Man, I wish Cas was here. He could just interrogate you to get the answers."

The cat yowled and walked over to him. "Dude, back off a bit. I'm allergic to you."

The cat didn't listen, though, and sat back on his haunches and reached up to tap Dean on the forehead.

“He might understand what we’re saying, but he’s kinda heedless when it comes to personal space, isn’t he?” Sam chuckled. “You’re gonna make Dean sick if you keep getting in his face, buddy.” He leaned over to move the cat away from Dean, and got a scratch on his arm for his troubles.

Dean reached out and grabbed the cat, picking him up so they were on eye level. "Hey, you. No hurting Sam. He's trying to help you, you know."

He started coughing and passed the cat off to his brother. "I've gotta get out of here. Sorry. Good luck with this."

Dean left the room, trudging to the bathroom to pop some more meds before going to his bedroom to grab a change of clothes. He needed a shower asap.

***

Sam rested his elbows on the table and huffed in frustration. He felt bad for Dean - his allergies were a real pain - but at the same time, he hadn’t exactly made the situation any better. Despite his protestations that he only went off fully-cocked, his attempt at working out the cat’s message seemed to annoy it more, and now he was left alone to try to decipher what he was trying to tell them.

“Hey, cat,” he said in what he hoped was a placating tone of voice. “What did you want to tell us? I promise I won’t interrupt you any further.”

The cat paced around amongst the tiles once more, this time finding an ‘S’. It pushed the tile towards the others, then sat itself on the table and looked up at Sam.

“C-A-D-I-T-M-S… Nope, that’s not a word. Is it an anagram?” Sam wondered out loud.

Sam didn’t think it was possible for the cat to roll its eyes, but somehow it did.

“You’re gonna have to help me out here. I’m not getting it.” Sam gave the cat his best puppy dog eyes, and hoped that would work on the feline.

The cat stood up again, and began pushing the tiles around. When it had finished, Sam looked at what it had given him, hoping it was a better clue.

“A-C-S. It still didn’t mean anything.

Wait !

“C-A-S… are you telling me you’re Cas?” Sam felt like a prize idiot… of course it was Cas. All the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place, and he beamed at his friend before scratching behind his ear.

“Dude, I’m so sorry for not realising sooner. No wonder you didn’t want me to take you outside for your business… awkward. But what happened to you? How can we undo the curse?”

Sam stopped talking and slapped his own forehead. “I’m gonna go tell Dean right now. He needs to know.”

He took off towards the bedrooms, with Cas hot on his heels. However, bursting into Dean’s room with the news, Sam saw that his brother was fast asleep.

This could wait until morning, and in the meantime, he and Cas could work on the cure. Maybe he would even be back to himself by then.

Unfortunately, Cas’s skills at letting Sam know how to cure him using Scrabble tiles were severely limited. After about an hour of frustrating attempts at trying, Sam felt his energy sapping and he laid his head on the table for a couple of minutes. That was all he needed… just a few minutes...

***

Dean woke up from a Benedryl-induced sleep and glanced over at his clock. It read 4:01. There was a warm weight on his chest, and he looked down to see Gizmo curled up on top of him.

He carefully reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a couple tissues. Shoving them in his nose, he gave in to temptation and stroked down the cat's back. His fur was so soft, and Dean could feel the rumble of purring with each pass of his hand.

"You sure are a cute little guy. I hope Sam had some luck figuring out how to help you."

The cat woke up at his voice, and stretched full-body before standing up and leaning over to nuzzle Dean's cheek.

Dean gripped him tight as he suddenly sneezed. "Okay, bud, I think it's time for another dose of allergy meds for me. What do you say we go grab some food, too?"

The feline headbutted him and licked his cheek. Taking that as an affirmative, Dean got up and carried Gizmo with him into the bathroom. He snagged the meds and continued on toward the kitchen.

Due to the watery eyes, he could barely make out Sam passed out at the table, Scrabble pieces scattered around his head.

In the kitchen, he set the cat down on the counter and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. He washed his hands in the sink, then grabbed a loaf of bread and the peanut butter out of the pantry. It was some organic, hippie brand that Sam insisted on buying, and Dean would never admit it to him, but it tasted better than the Peter Pan that had been his preferred choice.

He looked in the fridge for the jelly, but looked like they were out. There wasn't any in the pantry either. Dean shrugged and spread peanut butter on both slices of bread.

He was going to just slap them together and take his pills, but Gizmo knocked over Cas's bottle of honey. "Guess that could work." After drizzling a little on the slices, he put them together and took a bite. "Mmm, that's pretty tasty," Dean said with a full mouth. "Thanks for the suggestion, buddy."

Setting the sandwich down on the counter, Dean uncapped his water and swallowed down two more pills. When he reached for the pb&h, Gizmo swatted at his hand and quickly took a bite.

Dean was about to object to the sneak attack on his sandwich, when there was a sudden flash of light which prevented him from seeing anything for a few seconds. When his vision was clear again he could no longer see the cat, but Cas was standing there instead.

Where did he come from ?

"Cas?" He looked around, searching for Gizmo. Maybe… "Did you see a black cat?"

“Dean, do the letters I-D-I-O-T mean anything to you?” Cas asked. He stared into Dean’s eyes, but didn’t say anything more.

"Yeeeaaaaah," Dean drawled, looking at his friend who seemed to be covered in black hairs.

“That’s a fancy looking gizmo you’ve got there,” Cas stated drily, pointing at the waffle iron. He really seemed to be speaking in riddles today.

Dean was starting to put some pieces together when Sam burst through the door. His hair was a mess, and there was a Scrabble tile stuck to the side of his face. “Cas!! You’re back… how? How did you…?” He pulled Cas into a bro-hug and slapped him on the back.

Dean poked Sam in his tile and said, "You knew?"

“I worked it out last night,” Sam said, letting go of Cas, and pulling the tile from his face.

Cas coughed and gave him a pointed look.

“Oh, er… Cas helped me to understand last night,” Sam corrected himself. “I was gonna tell you, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

"Thanks, I guess," Dean responded, half bitchiness, half honesty. "I still don't understand what broke the curse, though."

“I had to eat something after midnight. I understand the irony, as you made me watch Gremlins, and I think the witch that cursed me did too.” Cas gave a little laugh.

Dean stared, mouth hanging open. "You mean, this whole time it was a bad movie reference?"

“It would seem that way, yes. Some people love movies as much as you do, apparently,” Cas replied.

Sam slapped his hand over his mouth and chuckled. “Dude, that’s a whole new level of nerd.”

"Shut up, Sam." Dean shot him his own bitch face, then turned to Cas and sneezed. "You're covered in fur. Unless you want me to look like a walking plague victim, you'll go take a shower."

“Yes, that is a disgusting image you’ve painted for me, Dean. I’ll take a shower now.” Cas started towards the door, when Dean suddenly put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"It's good to have you back, Gizmo," Dean snarked, then pulled Cas into a hug. Whispering in the angel's ear, he asked, "Mind if I join you? Somebody slept on top of me last night and got me dirty."

“If you’re really good, I’ll let you tickle my belly,” Cas growled back into Dean’s ear.

“I know what you’re doing, by the way,” Sam complained. “You guys are gross.”

Dean looked over at his brother and grinned. "Then this won't come as a shock."

He grabbed Cas's ass and stroked a hand up his back. Cas rubbed against his cheek, and Dean couldn't help but dive in for a kiss. It was kinda gross, given his current state of sniffles, but Cas responded with enthusiasm.

"C'mon, kitten, it's bath time."

“Rawr,” Cas purred.

The End

#Destiel Advent Calendar 2019 #fanfiction #destiel #christmas short fics

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kyber-kisses · 5 years

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Nightmares

Dean x Reader

Summary: after a lifetime of hunting your mind can start playing tricks with you, and they often come in different forms.

Warnings: physcological horror

A/n: ok so I loosely based this off of one of the scenes in Haunting of Hill House so I hope y’all like it!

Fear. It had been a part of your life for almost as long as you could remember. And maybe it all was because of the horrors that you had witnessed in your youth that had made you start hunting in the first place. But being a hunter for the majority of your life had made it easier to control. The longer time went on the less you were afraid of the creatures in the dark and more afraid of losing people you cared about. That didn’t mean you weren’t afraid at all of the other things. There were definitely times in which the spine tingling and tear inducing fear that every person feels as a child comes crawling back. For you it came in the form of nightmares. The kind that has you waking up in a cold sweat and gasping for air. These nightmares made it impossible to sleep, so you went to wandering the bunker instead. You did your best to keep Dean and Sam from noticing. Because if they did they would only start to worry and they didn’t need anymore problems.

“Y/n where are you off to?” Deans voice echoed down the hallway of the bunker. You turned to see him peek his head through the doorway.

“I’m going to bed Dean, because that hunt wore me out and we’ve been on the road for over 8 hours.” You threw your hand in the air with a light smirk.

“But its only-“ Dean looked down at the watch on his wrist. “ 8:30.”

“Don’t sound so defeated, we can watch Game of Thrones tomorrow night.” You gave him one last smile before hauling yourself and your dufflebag down the hall to your room.

You wanted nothing more than to just collapse onto the bed and pass out, but you mustered up enough strength to slide off your shoes and change out of your hunting clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. And with that you fell back onto the bed and let sleep take you.

“Hey Sam, you notice anything off about y/n?” Dean leaned back in his chair,looking across the table to his brother.

“No, not really. Why do you ask?”

“ I don’t know, she just hasn’t seemed herself lately.” His voice lightly laced with worry.

“I mean she has seemed really tired lately. I don’t think she’s getting much sleep. I sometimes hear her walking the hallways at night-.” Sam watched as his brother spun his beer bottle cap across the table, clearly lost in thought. He knew how his brother felt about you. How much he cared for your happiness and safety. “ maybe just talk to her tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah...” Dean muttered, still lost in his thoughts. Sam pushed his chair back, gathering his things.

“Well, I’m going to go shower.”

Dean nodded, stilll fiddling with the cap. He knew something was wrong, he just didn’t know what.

It was a common occurace for you to lose track of what reality was when you were dreaming. You let out a mumble when you felt the bed dip, guessing it was just Dean because the two of you usually shared a bed when staying in a motel You shrugged it off as nothing. But what took you by surprise was when he wrapped his arm around you, tangling his fingers with yours. Still too tired to do anything you let it be. After a minute though his grip on your hand had grown tighter and tighter.

“ Dean, your gripping my hand to tight.” You mumbled, nuzzling deeper into your pillow, trying to go back to sleep.

And that’s when reality caught up to you. You weren’t on a hunt. You were back at the bunker. And the lights in the hallway were still on meaning Dean was still up. And you always slept alone when at the bunker. And that’s when you shot up in bed and shrieked. The fear had bubbles up so much that he had you falling out of the bed and stumbling into the hallway. That’s when your legs gave out and you slid down the wall, curling your knees into your chest. You knew hunting had taken its toll on you, but this? This was ridiculous. Tears were staining your cheeks and it felt like every feel in your body was vibrating.

Dean was about to push himself out of his chair and drag himself to bed when he heard it. A blood curdling set of shrieks echoed down the hallways of the bunker. The sound made his heart freeze and in seconds he was throwing the chair back and bolting down the hallway toward your room. He was caught off guard when he turned the corner to see you pressed up against the wall, sobbing into your hands.

“Y/N!” The call of your name made your head shoot up to see Dean falling to his knees next to you. You were quickly reaching out to grasp at his sleeves. You needed to feel something real. The moment your eyes found his you felt your heartbeat begin to slow down. You didn’t even notice that Dean had your face cupped in his hands, his face filled with worry.

“Are you okay? What happened?” He waited for you to catch your breathe.

“I- I don’t- I don’t know.” You breathed, letting your head fall against Deans shoulder. You felt his arms wrap around you as he rested his chin on your head. You hadent even realized that you had basically crawled into Deans lap. Fear had taken over your senses.

“Okay, well how bout you try telling me?” He asked, pulling away to look you in the eye. He raised a hand to thumb away the tears streaming down your cheek. You slowly nodded, sliding back a bit so you could see him properly.

The whole time you tried to explain what happened, Dean sat in silence, listening as you tired to piece everything together. You told him about the cost hunting had taken on you and the nightmares from your childhood.

“ y/n, listen to me, if you need to take things slower with hunting that it’s perfectly okay. But you do need to rest though.” He watched as your eyes shot back to your room, filled with dread.

“ Can I - can I stay with you tonight?”

“ Of course.”

Five minutes later you found yourself curled up against Dean, nuzzling into his chest. His arms locked firmly around you in a protective embrace. He still smelled like cheap hotel soap and leather, which soothed you even more. You could faintly feel his heartbeat and you knew that this was in fact real.

A/N: once again I had to write this on mobile so I’m sorry if it looks funny, but I do hope you guys liked it!

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huntertales · 5 years

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Part Two: I Just Want To Be Good. (The Great Escapist S08E21)

Episode Summary: When Sam, Dean and the reader receive a distressing video message from Kevin Tran, they set about trying to uncover the third trial. The boys and the reader make a discovery that sends them to a casino in Colorado, to find a mysterious recluse who may be able to fill in the holes in Kevin’s research. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,949.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

The path to finding someone who could translate a demon tablet you didn’t even have was growing colder with each passing day. Kevin was the only one who knew where it was, and somehow he ended up dead. All the prophets who were in line after him were still going on with their daily lives. You were at a near dead end, but you had one more shot at figuring out what the final trial was before you threw in the towel for good. It was an ambitious move, and probably even a little bit stupid, to track down this Metatron guy. He was the messenger of God who came in contact with this Native American tribe centuries back. It was a long shot, but you didn’t have many left. You were hoping the Two Rivers hotel might have some answers to your questions.

You followed behind the boys when all of you headed into the casino and hotel, your eyes wandering over the many machines with their flashing lights and noises, enticing anyone who dare take a chance at gambling away their money. For a place like this you were guessing to see old folks gambling away their retirement fund. Maybe even a few people enjoying themselves with a weekend away. But the place was like a ghost town, not even an employee was around to greet the three of you. Dean hit the bell placed conveniently on the counter, hoping it might draw some attention. Sam waited beside his brother, casually glancing around to see if there was any other guests besides the three of you.

"Morning. Hi. Uh, we'd like a room?" Dean gave whom he presumed was the hotel manager a smile when he saw him emerge from the back office to see who was ringing the bell. The offer for business didn’t seem to make the manager move, he just kept staring at Dean, causing the older Winchester to be more specific. "Here, please."

You found yourself drifting away when you became curious about seeing the rest of the hotel, wondering what else there might be to do here besides playing a few slot machines. When you noticed a door that lead into another room, you began walking forward to it. You winced slightly in annoyance when you noticed a buzzing sound that you couldn’t describe. It was hard to tell if it was coming from the other room, or your ears were starting to ring. You poked a finger into the canal in some kind of attempt to make it go away, but it only got worse with each step you took away from the boys. It got louder and louder to the point where it felt like white noise.

For a second you felt like you were in your own world from what happened next. You blinked a few times when you noticed your vision was starting to go blurry, making the game room you spotted hard to see. And the damn ringing was getting louder. You were experiencing something you've never quite felt before. You quickly turned around in your spot and took a step towards the boys, and just like that, suddenly the noise disappeared and you could see just fine again. You furrowed your brow slightly from what just happened.

“Did you guys hear that?” You asked them, wondering

"Hear what?" Dean asked you. He listened for any odd sound other than the slot machines and birds chirping outside, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. He looked over at the manager and gave him a friendly smile, explaining your behavior. "She has the flu."

The manager barely showed any changes in his facial expressions, his brow furrowed together at your behavior, causing Dean to awkwardly chuckle and smile once again. When the man still wouldn't even crack the slightest of emotions, Dean rushed out a forged signature and booked it out of there. Dean wasted no time getting out of the lobby and onto one of the double beds.He couldn't stand another night of sleeping next to you with you being like this, your skin hot to the touch. You laid down after complaining that you were thirsty, Sam took on the task of grabbing you a drink while Dean mentioned something about checking around the place. You waved him off when he asked his brother if he was okay with watching you for a few minutes.

Sam watched you as downed a glass of water in mere seconds, acting like a woman dying of thirst before asking for another one. With the fever running through your body, you were bound to be dehydrated. He got up and went to the bathroom sink to get you another. You smiled and tried to somehow take a sip while lying on your side on the bed farthest from the door. The cold water felt amazing down your throat. All though you were hot to the touch, you felt awfully cold. And suddenly so tired. Maybe you were getting the flu. Because you were feeling weird lately. It was different when you were back at the bunker, but you were discovering that your body was feeling more unusual, almost like you were moving in a fog.

“Regular tourist mecca we got here.” You turned your head to the door when you heard it open to see that Dean was back from his sweep around the hotel. “We’re the only guests in this whole place. Last entry in the registry was in ‘06.”

“Mmm. Anyone else getting ‘Psycho’ vibes?” You cracked a joke that you thought wasn’t even the slightest bit funny, but it was enough to make you smile. You tried to put the empty glass on the nightstand, too tired to sit up and make it easier on yourself, only your attempt ended with you missing and accidentally dropping it to the floor a quiet thud, the carpet managed to save it from breaking. Your smile grew wider at your clumsiness and rested your head back into the pillow, you placed an arm over your face, trying to block out the sun peeking out from the blinds. “Hey, Dean, you remember when uh… when John and my mom took us to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, on that pack-mule ride?”

“The what?” Dean asked you, not sure where this conversation came from.

“And you’re, uh…your mule kept farting, just—letting go, like, gale force?” You weren’t the one to laugh like a school kid at jokes like that. But the memory made you let out a series of laughs that made the boys look at you with an odd expression.

“Y/N, you were like four years old.” Dean said. “I barely remember that.”

You giggled to yourself and turned your head to look at Sam, “Your brother rode a farty donkey.”

“Okay. Uh, since Sam has some background on this kind of stuff, him and I are gonna check out the Two Rivers Tribal Museum and Trading Post.” Dean said, telling you the plan.

“Yeah, yeah! I’m gonna…I’m gonna—“ You were finding it hard for you to sit up on your own, for a second, it seemed like you forgot you were almost six months pregnant with a belly that was far past being a small bump like you remembered. You got yourself up and pointed a finger at the boys to tell tell them what you were going to do while they were gone. “I’m gonna follow the hotel manager. D-Dr. Scowley-scowl. He’s like a villain from Scooby-Doo.”

“No, hey, uh, how about no?” Sam put a stop to your plans, watching as you tried to gather some energy to stand on your feet. You continued to sit on the eye of the bed, trying to force your eyes to stay open to keep this conversation going. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah,” You mumbled with no resistance at all. “I can do that too.”

And with that, you fell back to the bed, suddenly losing consciousness a little too quickly. When the boys made sure you were still breathing, they made their way out of the room to conduct some of their own research while you to some much needed rest.

+ + +

You weren’t sure how long you had been sleeping for after your head hit the pillow and lost consciousness in record time. From the way your body was feeling and the thin layer of sweat covering every inch of you, you took a wild guess that it was a while. You groaned softly when you tried to get yourself up into a sitting position, moving slow as possible, not sure why your body aches so much. You looked around the room to see if the boys had returned, but you were still alone. The room was quiet for the most part considering there hadn’t been any other guests since ‘06. You thought that’s what Dean said. Maybe you didn’t hear him right.

You had been pretty out of it when you got settled into the room, talking about some family trip you took with the Winchester’s decades ago when you were still in each other’s lives. You forgot about it until just recently. The memory was crystal clear in your head, like it happened just the other day. If you had to think about...things had never felt so much clearer. You slowly got up to your feet thinking you just needed to stretch your legs from sleeping in such a stiff position. Maybe even see what the hotel manager was up to. You did mention something to the boys about tailing him to see what he was up to. It was odd enough this place wasn’t crawling with at least a few drifters. Something weird was definitely going on here.

Somehow you were able to get yourself to the door and opened it just enough for you to stumble your way out into the hallway, not taking into consideration how your appearance must look at the moment. There was no doubt in your mind your hair was a mess, your skin felt clammy and sweaty. Not to mention you had a sickly color to your skin. You felt like how you looked right at this moment. But every instinct was telling you to get off your ass and do your job.

You moved at a gruelingly slow pace, making sure to steady your hand against the wall to keep yourself from falling and the other to block out the extremely bright florescent light. You stumbled your way down the hall and to the corner, wondering the hell the manager was, not taking into consideration you really shouldn’t have been out in the open like this. You took a few steps down the hall until you heard it again...that ringing you noticed when you checked in. This time, it was louder than before. Everything felt off.

The hallway you stood down of suddenly appeared like it was spinning around you, the ground beneath your feet felt like it disappeared. You couldn’t hear your heavy or even anything else, all you could concentrate on was that chiming noise ringing loudly in your ears. For a second you were caught up in the rush of feeling, not realizing the manager was closer than you thought. Quick as the dizzy spell came, it vanished right after you saw the elevator doors slowly opened, giving you a small window to find a hiding spot.

You managed to press your backside against the nearest door’s alcove just as the manager stepped off the elevator, pushing something that sounded like a cart from the squeaky wheel that echoed down the hall. You slowly peeked your head out from the corner to see he was crouched down on the ground with his back towards you, giving you a chance to see what he was doing. You noticed he was stacking delivery boxes on top of at least a dozen others. You furrowed your brow slightly in confusion. Why the hell was he delivering packages? There wasn’t anyone else here besides you and the boys. Maybe the previous guests before you checked in and loved the place so much they never wanted to leave.

When you saw the manager push the cart away and back to the elevator without seeing you, you began moving when you heard the ding of the doors closed shut. You slowly made your way over to the hoard of boxes, wanting to know what was in there. You grabbed one of them to read the mailing address, only to discover it was the same as the hotel’s. All these boxes had to be filled with something important. You ripped open the box to see what was inside. What you discovered was...not what you expected.

Books. At least a half dozen of them stacked neatly inside. You picked up a hardcover that was a pretty pale blue with silver swirled details engraved into the cover. You read the title, “Oliver Twist” by Charles Dickerson. A classic you remembered reading in English class years back for an essay. Then was more, books of all kinds, from different genres to different decades published. Classics. Mysteries. Self help books to quit smoking. You put them back where you found them, wondering why the hell the manger was dropping them off in another room. That’s when it hit you.

What do writes love more than creating their own work? Reading other adventures. You pushed yourself back up to your feet and headed to your own room quickly as your body would let you. You didn’t know why you figured it out sooner. He was under your nose the entire time, hiding in plain sight. And yet hidden away from the world, probably spent centuries reading. An introvert’s dream to spend out their days. Their own company fictional beings. Endless worlds that weren’t their own.

You shut the door behind you and pulled out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts until you found Dean’s number. You blinked a few times to get your eyes to focus when you noticed your vision was starting to grow blurry again. You managed to hit the send button and heard the first ring before you felt yourself starting to get light headed, to the point where you were starting to get nervous you might fall.

You took a few steps to make it over to the bed closest to you in some kind of attempt to sit down before that could happen. You felt your knees give out on you could make it there, causing your body to stumble to the floor and your phone mere inches from your grip. You didn’t hear the sound of Dean’s voice when he picked up on the second ring.

+ + +

All you remembered before passing out on the hotel room floor was that you were in the middle of trying to make a phone call to Dean after the discovery you made. It was too important not to wait on. You managed to make it back to the room and dialed his number before you found yourself losing consciousness, probably from the fever that was some kind of effect from doing these trials. Everything felt blurry, like you were in a fever dream. During the time you were passed out for a short while from the time the boys discovered you and when you woke up you were bombarded with all sorts of memories you either forgot or compressed down. Things about who you used to be, and the horrible things you did.

When you finally came back into consciousness you weren’t exactly sure where you were for a split second. Your senses started to pick up on the fact that you felt like you were floating in water, freezing cold from what it felt like. You suddenly realized your lungs were starting to burn, the familiar sensation that made you start to panic. You felt your brain starting to scream for air as you felt your arms suddenly shoot up, feeling for a surface you could grab a hold onto. You grabbed each side of the tub you were lying in and quickly pulled yourself out of the ice cold water, your body freezing cold to the bone and your lungs burning for the need of air. When you finally managed to get yourself up into a sitting position, you quickly realized you were in a bathtub full of ice cold water.

You inhaled a wheezing breath before the next few came out in short and quick pants from the temperature your body wasn’t used to. You looked up to see the boys were standing above you, the ones who were responsible for putting you here in the first place. You felt your teeth starting to chatter and your body shaking from how freezing you were, you needed to get out of here before you got hypothermia. You slapped away Dean’s hand when he tried to help you out of the tub so you wouldn’t risk the chance of slipping and hurting yourself.

“Get off!” You shouted at him, your voice coming out shaky as you managed to push yourself up to your feet and stumble your way of the tub, only to make yourself feel worse at the even colder feeling room. You stood in the middle of the bathroom with your clothes soaked to your body and your entire body violently shaking. “What the hell?! God!”

“Take it easy.” Dean told you. You tightly crossed your arms around your chest to try and warm yourself up before you could get anymore freezing. Sam grabbed a towel to wrap around your body to start warming you up best as he could. “We found you on the floor, passed out. Your temperature was a hundred and seven. I had to force it down or you were toast.”

“He’s here, guys. Metatron is here.” You stuttered out the news you wanted to tell them over the phone before you passed out. Sam momentarily stopped grabbing another towel to try and help warm you up from the words he heard come out of your mouth. Both of the boys gave you a confused expression. “I know it. I can feel it.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked.

“All I know is that I’m connected to it somehow.” You tried to explain it as best as you could to them, figuring it explained the ringing in your ears and the dizzy spells that you had earlier.

“What, like you got a link to him, like a prophet?” Dean went on with his questions, wondering what the hell you were talking about.

“I don’t know! I just know he’s here.” You said. “Metatron is here.”

“Okay. Where?” Dean decided to amuse this idea of yours, wondering if you were still delirious from the fever you had earlier today.

“I can show you. I can show you.” You muttered to them, sounding a little bit worrisome as you started to get a look in your eye. “The manager—he was delivering books to him.”

“Books?” Dean repeated what you just said.

“Books. Hardcovers, paperbacks, novels—books.” You practically spelled it out for them, trying to make them understand the point you had figured it out on your own.

The boys took a few seconds before you realized why the books were such a factor into figuring out that it was Metatron the entire time, stories were something he would have enjoyed. You shrugged off the towel and wasted no time at all changing into a new set of clothes, wanting to hunt down and have a talk with the angel yourself. The boys kept insisting that you should have kept it easy and rest, but you shrugged off their concerns, saying that you were perfectly fine. Your stumbling around and odd behavior before wasn't exactly proving you were in good shape to keep on going like how you wanted.

You managed to get dressed and make your way out the door with the boys following right after you in some kind of fear that you might fall again and hurt yourself this time. You took your time getting out into the hall again, steadying yourself on the wall while Sam kept his arm stretched out just enough to catch you if you were to take a tumble, Dean shut the door behind him and began following behind you as you slowly made your way down the hall to the room you were trying to show them that supposedly belonged to this angel.

“I should be taking you to the E.R.” Dean said, sharing his concern for your wellbeing.

“They can’t do anything for me. I have to get worse before I can get better.” You found yourself mumbling the last sentence to yourself, but Sam managed to catch your rambling. “You know, I’ve been remembering things—little things so clearly.”

“What?” Dean asked you. “Donkey rides?”

“You used to read to me, when you were still learning how to, from this really old Grimm's fairy tale book. My favorite one used to be 'Little Red Riding Hood.' You read it so much that I'm pretty sure you had it memorized. You would always make up these voices for all the characters. You always told me that you were the hunter. And I was Red.” You found yourself reminiscing on a memory from times when things were much simpler, when you still lived in Lawrence and the boys were in your lives. You and Dean shared a small moment of childhood innocence that was long lost from the years. Until you started to remember all of it. “I thought I was for a long, long time. Little Red Riding Hood, I mean.”

You steadied one hand on the wall as you kept on walking with the boys following behind you, for a second you wondered why you were saying any of this. But another part of you felt like you needed to get the past off your chest. "I used to be obsessed with that stupid book. You know that? I forced my mom to read me a story from it for the first year when I moved to Y/H/S. It was the only thing that would help me fall asleep. Mostly it was the ones where the princess or some pretty damsel was cursed. They had something wrong with them. I thought I was one of them, too. How stupid was that?”

You found yourself smiling at the things that were coming out of your mouth, finding your childhood innocence on things so stupid. “Yeah. It’s normal for little girls to believe in fairy tales. Happy endings and Prince Charming. But that wasn’t it. Things happened to me that nobody could explain. I thought it was easier to believe that someone cursed me. And that one day it was all going to disappear. I didn’t know what was really wrong…” You felt a lump form in your throat at the clear memories flooding back to you, things you tried so hard to forget. “I should’ve.”

You used to hear voices. See things nobody else could. And have blackouts of rage that you didn’t even remember doing. All of this was things turned into a blurry memory before you subconsciously buried deep down inside of you. Every trace of hints that you were a monster were hidden from daylight for long as possible. You settled into a safe and normal lifestyle your mother sold her soul for. Maybe she knew the entire time what kind of monster she made. She tried her hardest to keep it chained up and brainwashed you into keeping away from the very thing that brought you into this world. But one could only do so much beyond the grave.

When you’re a kid, you’re taught the things that go bump in the night were just figments of your imagination. Characters in a story that was made up by someone to scare little kids. But kids have the mindset to believe these things. Because at that age anything is possible. For a short time before society and adulthood tricks us into thinking, you know about the evil in the world. And yet you’re still innocent enough to believe there is good as well. When you grew up you learned the truth. But the part of optimism where you get a happy ending dies. You had to take off your rose colored glasses and see the world for what it was. The monster you always were.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” Sam asked you, wanting to make sense of all the things that were coming out of your mouth.

You stopped walking and stood there for a second with your hand pressed against the wall. You slowly turned around in your spot to face the boys to continue on with what you were saying. “I thought for the longest time I was Little Red Riding Hood, walking through life and being tricked by monsters who pretended to be my friend. Deep down. I thought I was good. But I wasn’t. I was never...clean.” The way your lips twitched at the word, it made it seem like you were saying a vile thing. “I was the wolf hiding in plain sight. I lied to you guys. I lied to myself. For the longest time I tricked people into thinking I was capable of making good decisions. But everything I touched turned to crap. I was tainted. Evil.”

You felt your lips twitching into what looked like a smile, but your eyes told a different story from how you were feeling at the moment. The boys had felt their fair share of emotions over the years, Sam had empathized with your pain about feeling unclean. At the end of all of it, you weren’t to blame for how you turned out. “Y/N, it’s not your fault.”

“For the longest time I thought it was. I blamed myself for the horrible things that happened. Sam dying. You going to hell. Lucifer being set free. The apocalypse. Everything could have been avoided if I made different decisions. I mean, knowing that I was a half-demon didn't really bother me. I could control her. I did my entire life. You know what really hurts the most?” You asked them, but not giving them a second to take a guess. They would never get it.” “It’s the fact that Lucifer made me. The most evil thing out there created me. I felt so alone. Isolated.”

“You’re not alone, Y/N.” Sam reassured you. He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, hoping a touch would break you out of this head space. “You never were.”

“I’m the only of my kind. And there was no changing that. But I don’t feel like that anymore. Because these trials..." You felt yourself inhaling a deep breath, taking a pause between what you were about to say next. The look on your face from the things you knew for the future made you seem like you were suddenly at ease, despite all the things you admitted to just a few minutes earlier. A sense of hope followed after, it bloomed in your chest from the three words that followed after. "they're purifying us."

Dean felt himself being taken aback from the last word that slipped out from your mouth. He found himself standing there for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what you meant by that. Even though in the back of his mind he knew the answer, he wanted to hear it out of your mouth. The different answer than he suspected. You had been acting strange since you started the trials, and you were only getting worse. He watched as you made it down the hall and to the last door on the right. You stood there for a moment, trying to find something that was no longer there.

“They were here, the books, the boxes!” You pointed at the empty ground that no longer had the things you seen earlier today. Your voice was growing frustrated at what was happening. All of this was making you look like you were going crazy. “They—They’re gone.”

What you didn’t discover was the fact that room three sixty-six was opened just the slightest to anyone who dared walk inside. Dean took it upon himself to push open it wider and took a look inside to the hotel room you claimed belonged to Metatron. He stepped inside first to see the place was empty, you followed after and Sam trailed behind, discovering a collection of books that must have taken decades. You felt your anger slowly subsiding when you discovered the stock pile of books all around you. Piles that were taller than you, neatly stacked on tables. You read every title you could as you passed by, wondering to yourself if they had all been read.

The more you traveled into the place, the more you discovered thousands upon thousands of books from what it felt like. All neatly packed together on the floor and shelves. Someone was a bit of a bookworm. You and the boys traveled farther into the hotel, trying to find this angel you had traveled all the way here to see, not taking into consideration he might have been one step ahead of you. You felt your gaze going straight forward when you felt someone’s grip around your arm tug you back slightly, stopping you from walking into the barrel of a shotgun.

[Next Part]

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aterimber · 5 years

Text

Hunter Helper

Request from CarmillaPoisonberry - ‘got another sick!fic in mind. Sick!Dean and Caring!Sam in the middle of a hunt. Taking place anytime after Season 6.

Requested: 14.07.14

Started: 17.11.13

Finished: 19.03.14

Words: 5,601

-------------------------

“Damn it,” Dean glared down at his cast and dropped his hand back to his lap, uselessly.

The damn thing made it impossible for him to scratch at his leg, making him go just the tad bit crazy. He knew he wasn’t supposed to scratch at it, the doctors told him that meant it was healing, but damn if he didn’t try. How is anyone supposed to ignore this itching for two weeks anyway? He’d got so desperate a few days ago that he tried to get a stick in there but it ended up snapping in half, so now not only did he have an unreachable itch, he also had half a stick sticking out from his leg.

I really didn’t think that through, the blonde tugged uselessly at the end of the stick, only ending up pushing it further into his cast. The bark added to the itching. Every time he shifted his leg, the stick would move ever so slightly and tease him by scrapping against his leg – too slowly to bring any relief. Great. He let out a sigh and flopped his head back against the couch.

He knew that he shouldn’t be complaining about his leg, considering Sam had the devil riding shotgun, and the world was ending…again.

When did his life go so downhill?

Speaking of the devil…

Dean craned his neck against the back of the couch, trying to see into the back hall of the cabin, “Sam?”

All that met him was silence, which instantly spiked his worry meter. If Sam decided to fly the cuckoo's nest, he wouldn’t even be able to go after him, unless he decided to cut his cast off. Which was a serious option if Sam did leave; there was no way he was going to just sit around if his brother was out walking around by himself.

“Sam?”

Still nothing. Damn it, he began struggling to get himself up off the couch, I swear to God, Sammy, if you left this cabin-

“Yeah, yeah, I’m right here,” The giant walked into the room, seeming shaken up about something, wringing his hands.

The blonde narrowed his eyes at his brother as he eased himself back down onto the couch, “Why didn’t you answer?”

“What do you mean?” Sam moved to help guide him back down, before sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“I had to call you more than once.”

“So?”

“So, I can’t just spring up and go after you if you don’t answer. I need to know you’re safe.”

“Okay, jeez I didn’t realize you being injured meant I had to stay confined,” His eyes began wandering off to the right, in the direction of the kitchen, behind my head.

“Damn it, Sam,” he punched the cushion beside him, making the youngest jump, “You have the devil making you see who knows what, and I’m down a leg, this is serious.”

“Okay, sorry, I was…,” Dean didn’t miss the way his eyes focused on something behind his head again, “distracted.”

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

That came out a little faster than necessary, “You wanna try that again?”

He finally turned his gaze back to his brother, “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Sam.”

“Dean.”

The brother’s stared at each other for a few minutes, before Dean sighed and Sam got up from the table, making his way into the kitchen.

Oh, that’s great, now he’s playing cops and robbers, the blonde leaned his head against the back of the couch again, doing his best to keep his eyes on him. If you’re seeing him now, there’s no way I’m leaving you alone, “What’re you doing?”

“Having sex.”

“Aw, dude, not on the table! And keep your special sauce away from the milk! I do not need that in my cereal.”

“Ugh, Dean,” Bitch Face Number Seven, looks pretty funny upside down, actually, “that’s disgusting!”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s having sex in the kitchen; I’m just giving you some parameters.”

He heard him let out a frustrated groan before padding toward one of the back rooms, that I can’t get to. Dean internally swore his brother for doing that - he knew he did it on purpose, wanting some alone time. But his alone time wasn’t just him, which was what Dean didn’t trust. He knew he was being a pain in the ass, but it’s not like he didn’t have a reason, and with his bum leg, he didn’t exactly have much else to do either.

He punched one of the cushions next to him again, “Shit!”

The blonde heard the creak of a door closing, and then… nothing. Not good.

“Sam?”

He ran a hand through his hair and grit his teeth, doing his best not to explode, why are you being such an ass about this? “Sam!”

“What the fuck do you want?”

Whoa, attitude much? “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Going to the bathroom! Is that okay with you Dad?”

Aaaand now you’re pissed. Great. “You sure that’s all you’re doing?”

“Oh, no, you’re right. I forgot to mention the person I dragged in here earlier to interrogate.”

How am I supposed to know what you’re doing if you don’t just tell me? Dean took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair, tugging at it out of frustration, you’re not this stupid, Sam. You know why I’m worried. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, I can’t believe I’m doing this, “…What’d he tell you?”

“Jesus Dean!”

He heard the toilet flush, at least he was telling the truth, before Sam reappeared, his hands shaking slightly.

“Ew, dude, there’s no way you washed your hands that fast,” the blonde threw one of the pillows at him, he won’t even leave you alone to go to the bathroom? Damn.

The younger sighed, letting the pillow fall to the floor before crossing his arms over his chest, avoiding his brothers’ gaze, “I’m not five, Dean.”

“You should still wash your hands, no matter how old you are, Sammy. C’mon, I thought I raised you better then that.”

Eye roll, well, that’s a step down from pissed, I guess, “Dean, look, I don’t need you to-”

“I got a hunt for you.” Bobby burst through the door, throwing a newspaper toward Sam.

Dean didn’t bother to hide the offended look from the eldest, “Anything non-leviathan related?”

“Are you ever that lucky?”

Sam’s eyes scanned the paper, stopping every second or third line to flick over to his left, hands twitching slightly, as if wanting to grab whatever he was looking at, before he returned to reading. He’s still here? Fuck… Dean gave Bobby a look, but the elder man either didn’t notice, or didn’t care anymore.

“So, Sam,” he noted the small jump at the sound of his voice, c’mon, Lucifer, at least give him five friggin’ minutes! “what’s it say?”

“What?”

“The hunt? Is it our kind of thing?” You can’t focus? No way are you leaving.

“Oh, right, uh, it just says a farmer couple went missing a couple of days ago, only thing anyone found was a swipe of black ooze on one of the windowsills. Claiming the couple just up and left for a vacation,” Sam threw the newspaper down on the table.

He walked back out of eyesight, now you’re just trying to piss me off, returning a moment later with a duffle slung over his shoulder, extending a hand to his brother to give him the keys. Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he shook his head. Sam huffed a breath and shifted his weight, giving his brother Bitch Face Number Four.

“No way Sam.” You really think I’m gonna let you go out on a hunt? After that?

“Dean, it’ll be quick, two, three days max.”

“No Sam, you’re not going alone, especially not on a Leviathan thing.”

“Hey,” Bobby cut in, “I can go with him, make sure he doesn’t get his head ripped off.”

“Oh c’mon Bobby, you can’t watch him,” Dean barely glanced at the older man.

“You wanna try that again, Son?”

“You’re reflexes ain’t what they used to be, half a second late, and Sam’ll be dead. Or worse.”

“Reflexes ain’t…?” Bobby huffed, eyebrows raising, “Is your cast cutting off the circulation to your brain or something, Boy?”

“Look, I,” he ran a hand through his hair in agitation, what is with everyone today? “that’s not what I meant.”

The eldest gave the blonde an expectant look.

Don’t make me say it, “Bobby, I just… If Sam’s going on a hunt, I’m going with him.”

“Since when don’t you trust me to watch the kid?”

“It’s not your job, alright?” You should already know this, why’re you making me spell it out for you?

“Uh, Dean?”

“Bobby, it’s not that I don’t trust you-”

“Dean-”

“I just – I’m going stir crazy here, not being able to leave, I need to burn off some of this energy, y’know?”

“Dean!”

“What?” He followed his eyes to the empty space where the youngest used to be standing, “Shit.”

He swung his cast leg off the couch and braced himself against the arm, getting ready to stand, “How the hell did he do that? You’re standing in front of the door.”

“There’s a back door at the end of the hall.”

I’m going to kill him, He hoisted himself up and gave a small laugh of triumph as he didn’t immediately fall back over, “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Fine, next time I’ll give you a floor plan to the place,” he tossed his jacket at him before coming around to help.

“I got it,” the blonde swatted his hand away and thought of his next move, using the arm of the couch for support.

“He couldn’t have gotten far, he doesn’t have the keys to the Impala,” Bobby grabbed the crutches from the opposite wall and handed them over.

“Unless he hotwired it.” I swear to God, if you opened her up…

“We would’ve heard it start,” he yanked the door open and scanned the driveway for the vehicle anyway.

They were both half-way out the door when a creak from behind them made them stop and turn around.

“Uh, guys?” Sam came out of the back, shrugging his jacket on and took in the concerned look on their faces, “What? Did you decide I’m on lock down again?”

Dean moved as fast as he could back to the middle of room to hit his brother, “Don’t do that!”

Sam eyed his brother confused as he threw his duffle down on the small dining table, “Do what?”

“We thought you left for the hunt.” Bobby closed the door and helped the blonde back to the couch.

He made his way to the fridge, pulling out a couple of waters, “And neither of you realized I would’ve had to walk past you?”

“We thought you went out the back.” Dean flopped down with a sigh.

“There is no back way out of here.”

Dean glared at Bobby who just put his hands up in mock surrender and shrugged.

“My mistake.”

“Jesus, Bobby!”

“So,” the brunette stuffed the water bottles into his duffle before zipping it closed again and throwing it up on his shoulder, “can I go now?”

“No. You’re not going.”

“Dean-”

“No Sam. Let Bobby go. You can stay here and wait on me,” he gave his brother a thousand watt smile. No way am I letting you out of this house. Especially if you’re seeing Lucifer while you’re goddamn peeing.

Sam rolled his eyes and looked to Bobby, who was refusing to meet his eyes. Bobby sighed and snatched the paper off the coffee table before making his way back over to the door.

“I’ll call when I get there; let you know what I find.”

With that, Bobby disappeared out the door, leaving the brother’s alone. Sam made his way toward the back, rolling his eyes as he saw Dean tense.

He sighed and held up his duffle, “I’m going to put my stuff back.”

Dean waved a hand dismissively, letting him go before scrubbing a hand down his face, and letting out a deep sigh, fuck.

“Hey,” as soon as his brother got back into eyesight he hit him with another pillow, “go to the store?”

Sam caught this one and put it down on the dining table, “You sure I can do that by myself Dean?”

“No, but you’re here to wait on me, and me wants pie.” If you can do this by yourself, then we’ll see about letting you hunt. Definitely nothing Leviathan related, we’re starting you small. Salt n’ burns only.

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head but walked toward the front door anyway.

“Hey, don’t forget these.” Dean threw him the keys. Bring him back in one piece for me, Baby.

“Yeah alright.”

“And some skin mags?”

“Anything else, your highness?” Sam turned back to him, bowing slightly.

Dean tapped his chin as if to think for a moment, “Pie! Definitely pie.”

“When do I ever not get you pie?”

The blonde opened his mouth to respond but closed it wordlessly, good point. He craned his neck to look at the kitchen behind him, “We might need some real food too.”

“Okay,” Sam had one hand on the doorknob, not even looking at him, eager, aren’t ya?

“And water, we’re down to the last case.”

“Fine.”

“And-”

Sam rolled his eyes, turning back to his brother, “Yes?”

“If you wreck the car,” he smirked at his brother, “I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah, alright. Can I go now?”

“Yeah you can go. I’m warning you now; if you’re not back in ten minutes I’m coming after you.”

“Dean, the store is fifteen minutes away at least, plus time to actually gather everything-”

“Oh, yeah, alright Mr. Cocky, you get half an hour then.”

Sam held up his hands in mock surrender before finally getting out the door, closing it behind him. Dean heard the Impala start up and rumble away, eyes on the clock, so he could time him.

He was serious, if Sam wasn’t back soon, he was going after him - he wasn’t just going to sit around while Lucifer had him doing who-knew-what to who-knew-who.

Dean leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes, don’t make me come after you.

“Dean!”

Dean jumped, startled, and looked around, trying to place himself. He relaxed slightly as he spotted Bobby over him, wait…

“Bobby?” He cleared his throat as he heard the grogginess of it.

“Where the hell’s your brother?”

“Supply run,” he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and stretched, “Did you forget something?”

“Forget something? Dean, I’ve been gone four days.”

“What?” He was definitely awake now.

Bobby flicked the light on, making Dean shield his eyes from the light, “I came back from the hunt to see the door unlocked, the Impala gone, you snoring on the couch and a lack of your mammoth of a brother.”

Fuck, he struggled to his feet, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I got back yesterday, figured he was out on a supply run and waited to see if he’d come back. Gave the kid fifteen minutes from when I got in, when he didn’t show? I’ve been trying to wake you since.”

He is so dead. He started toward the door.

“Do you know where he went?”

“No, but I’ll start with the store and work my way up,” he reached into his pocket for the keys.

Fuck, I let him take the car! He banged a fist against the wall, “Can we take your truck?”

Bobby nodded, catching up to Dean, before running out the door. They climbed into his truck – needing to physically pull Dean half way into it first, which shaved off another couple minutes of catch-up time – before speeding off toward the store.

“C’mon Sam, I know you want to vent. Who better to listen than me?” Lucifer stretched his feet up onto the dash as they sped down the road, the youngest Winchester looking ready to explode, his grip on the steering wheel getting increasingly tighter.

“Leave me alone.” Sam pushed the palm of his left hand as hard as he could into the wheel.

Why can’t I just get some time to myself? Usually, Lucifer disappeared after a few minutes or he just hung around in the background, not really talking. But lately things had started to change - Sam would walk into a room to find him waiting there, actively trying to get him to respond, he seemed more in tune with the situation and would interject whenever there was a pause, and, perhaps the most annoying - the scar on his hand was pretty much useless.

“Don’t be mean, Sammy, I’m only trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“Oh c’mon,” Lucifer bumped his arm, “Tell me what’s bothering you about Big Bro.”

“It’s just-” he huffed, knuckles going white around the steering wheel, “He’s acting like I’m five. Like I can’t take care of myself. All the shit we’ve been through? And he just assumes I’m not able to handle this. I mean,” he pulled into the parking lot, “No offence but seeing you isn’t exactly the worst thing that’s happened to one of us, y’know?”

Lucifer nodded, “He has gotten more… controlling lately.”

“I know,” Sam got out of the car and made his way toward the entrance of the store, “I think it might be tied to losing Cas, but still…” he picked up a basket as they entered, pausing as Lucifer hopped into one of the carts, “… what’re you doing?”

“I’ve never rode in one before.”

Sam shook his head, replacing the basket, before making his way over to the cart, “You know they don’t go very fast, right? If you think riding in a car is slow – this’ll be ten times worse.”

Lucifer waved a dismissive hand at him before pointing to the doors, “Onward!”

Sam complied, making his way into the store pushing the cart, unable to ignore the thousand-watt smile the devil gave him.

“Don’t forget the pie, Sam.”

“I’m not gonna forget the pie,” he mentally cursed himself as a lady gave him a quizzical look as they passed, shit.

“What?” Lucifer turned to look at the lady, before turning back to the hunter, confused, “What’s wrong?”

Nothing, he turned down the produce aisle, throwing things into the cart occasionally.

“Ooohhh,” Lucifer nodded, “You don’t want to look crazy, got it.”

They turned down another aisle, Sam moving through it quickly, trying to find pie.

“Hold it!”

Sam stopped abruptly, glad the aisle was empty, “What the hell?”

Lucifer picked a box of Pop-Tarts up off the shelf, holding them out to show the hunter, “Can we get these?”

Sams’ brows furrowed in confusion, “Since when do angels need to eat? And since when do you like Pop-Tarts?”

Lucifer pet the box, “These are the best thing your kind has invented.”

“…Sure,” Sam held back his chuckle as the devil reached for another box, cradling both against his chest.

They continued shopping in silence for a while, before Sam doubled back on some of the aisles, scanning the signs above with frustration, “Where the hell is the pie?”

Lucifer pointed toward the back of the store, “Probably where it says Bakery?”

He stopped dumbfounded before shaking his head, of course, starting toward the back of the store.

He ducked as he heard a gunshot, before turning to the front of the store, eyes widening as he saw another him, “What the hell?”

“This is a robbery!” Clone-Sam yelled, firing two more shots into the ceiling, “Everybody down!” He made his way over to the cash, shooting some of the people in line, before throwing the cashier a bag, “Money, in!”

Sam was frozen to the spot, eyes fixed on the fake him, is it a shifter?

“H-hey!”

His head whipped around to the bakery counter, where a worker held their wall phone in his shaking hand, “D-don’t move!”

Shit, Sam quickly looked around, hoping for an exit.

“Psst,” Lucifer pointed to a door a few feet away.

Thank-you, he started toward it, doing his best to move as silently as he could, crouching down behind the cart. He stopped halfway, peeking over the cart at clone-him, who had moved on to another cashier.

“T-the police are on their way!”

Clone-Sams’ head whipped up at the yell, and, upon spotting the baker, his face twisted into an evil smile, “Good, tell them Sam Winchester says hi.” before shooting the man, eyes connecting with Sams’.

Shit, shit, shit, Sam continued toward the door, as he heard clone-him laugh. He turned just in time to see him jump up onto one of the counters, pointing his gun toward him, “Would’ya look at this? Seems we’ve got two of me!”

Fuck it, Sam stood, bolting for the door, bursting through it, as the alarm blared. He didn’t stop running until he reached the car, wrenching the door open before speeding away, “Fuck!”

“The Impalas’ not here,” Dean surveyed the parking lot from the truck, knuckles white around his cell, “Bobby, I don’t think he’s-” He cut himself off as he saw the older man come out of the front entrance to the grocery store, Sam in handcuffs.

Deans’ brows furrowed as he watched them get closer, his brother was smirking as they walked, like he wanted to get caught… Dean felt a boulder settle into his stomach as they reached the car and he winked, that’s definitely not Sammy.

“Yes!” Lucifer ran a hand through his hair, practically bouncing in the front seat, “Did you see that? Man, he was on fire!” His face was split into a giant grin and he turned to face the hunter, “There’s no way we can head back to the cabin now.”

Sam pulled the car off the road into an alley, eyeing the devil, “What’re you talking about?”

“Sam, everyone in that parking lot saw you get into this car. I bet there’s a BOLO out for it right now.”

“But… they would’ve caught me, I mean him… right?”

“You think whatever that was is gonna wait around for the police to show up and catch him? Or, isn’t it more likely he bolted not long after you did, and has a replica of the car?”

“Shit,” he rested his head against the steering wheel with a groan, “What am I supposed to do now?”

“C’mon Sam, what could be more fun then being on the lamb with the devil?” He clapped the giant on the shoulder before opening the door, “Come on, we gotta ditch this thing for a less conspicuous ride.”

“Where is he?”

Sam looked up, brows creasing slightly, “Sorry, what?”

“I said,” Dean took a few steps closer to his ‘brother’, hand tightening around his gun, “Where’s my brother?”

The giants’ expression softened and he smiled, gesturing to himself, “I’m right here, silly.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean dug his flask of holy water out of his jacket, eyeing the thing, “Then prove it.”

“Pfft, Dean,” Bitch Face Number Five – even that looked off.

He’d admit, the thing was pretty good at pretending to be his brother, but every so often, he would say, or react to something in a way that Sam just… wouldn’t. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he had a bad feeling that the thing in front of him wasn’t his brother.

The brunette sighed before grabbing for the flask, taking a big gulp of the holy water, pulling a face as he swallowed, “Ugh, dude, how old was that?”

The blonde replaced the flask before reaching for his knife, just as Bobby came back into the room.

The eldest looked to Dean, hand on his knife, “What kinda party am I missing in here?”

“Nothing,” Dean dropped his knife back into his pocket, “Hey Sam, why don’t you go fire up the grill for those steaks?”

“Sure thing!”

He waited until that thing was out of the kitchen before turning to the older man, “That’s not Sam.”

“C’mon, Boy,” Bobby dropped his voice and went to sit at the table, “What makes you so sure?”

“I don’t know,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “I just… it doesn’t feel like it’s him. He’s been acting weird ever since we picked him up at the grocery store.”

“Did you forget he’s got the devil riding shotgun? That’s gotta be doing a number on him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face with a sigh, “He’s just… different.”

“It’s bound to change him, Dean. But we’ll get him put together, and things’ll go back to normal. Now,” Bobby nodded toward the window, “why don’t you go help the kid with the barbeque before he lights himself on fire?”

Dean followed the mans’ gaze out the window and saw Sam standing in front of the barbeque, sniffing the lighter fluid. The blonde sighed but nodded, before heading outside.

“They gone?”

Lucifer peeked back out the motel curtain before nodding, “Yeah, they’re gone.”

“Jesus,” Sam ran both his hands through his hair, “That was close.”

“Too close,” Lucifer made his way back to the bed and jumped on it, “I told you we should’ve kept moving.”

“And I told you that I needed to sleep.”

“Aw, come on,” he waved a dismissive hand at the hunter, “You could’ve slept in the car.”

“You mean the fire red convertible you stole? Oh yeah, that would’ve been a way better hiding spot.”

“Y’know…” Lucifer sat up, voice careful, “I could always just keep you awake.”

“It’s been four days, excuse me for needing some shut eye.”

Lucifer shrugged, “Just saying. We coulda kept driving.”

Sam stifled a yawn, raising his eyebrows at the devil, “Wait…what do you mean you could ‘keep me awake’?”

“Well…” Lucifer averted his gaze to the floor, “You wouldn’t exactly like it, but it could be done.”

“What is it?”

“You know.”

“No, Lucifer I-” he cut himself off before shaking his head, “Demon blood? You’re not serious?”

Lucifer was standing next to him in an instant, “Don’t you remember how much sharper you were when you were on it, Sam? You were stronger, had faster reflexes, barely slept – you were a machine. You had to be – you were set to be my vessel, after all. Only a person of the utmost strength can contain me.”

Sam shook his head and got up, “No. No way. Dean would ha-” his eyes widened in realization, “Shit, Dean! He’s gotta be going nuts!”

“Wha-?” Lucifer starred as the hunter moved to the bed, grabbing his duffle, “Where are you going?”

Sam threw his clothes into the duffle before zipping it, making his way over to the door, grabbing his jacket, “Home.”

“I knew it!” Dean punched the thing in the face again, heaving.

The thing just laughed, spitting black goo onto the floor, “What do you want? A medal?”

The blonde pulled out Ruby’s knife, plunging it into it’s heart, “Fuck you!”

“Dean!” Bobby dragged the hunter away from the thing tied to the chair, “That won’t do anything.”

“I don’t care!”

“Hey! We need him to tell us where your brother is,” Bobby gave the younger a pointed look, “Think you can play nice until we get that information?”

Deans’ lip curled in anger but he nodded, taking a breath.

The Leviathan chuckled as it watched them, “Better listen to Daddy, Junior.”

“You son-of-a-bitch!” Dean surged forward, nearly falling over his broken leg. He hobbled closer to the creature, bringing his head down so they were more-or-less eyelevel, “I’m gonna have fun figuring out a way to kill you.”

“Sam! Look out!”

Sams’ eyes shot open and he swerved the car back into the right lane, heart hammering in his chest, as the horn of the oncoming car faded, “Fuck!” He pulled the car over to the side of the road and rubbed his hands over his face, “I-I can’t drive, I’m too tired. Ugh!” He rested his head on the steering wheel, what am I gonna do?

“There’s still that other-”

“Jesus, Lucifer!” He shot the devil a look before reaching for the coffee cup, tipping it up as far as he could, trying to get every last drop of caffeine he could.

“That’s a phrase I don’t think I’ve heard,” The devil smiled before snatching the cup from the hunter, “Sam, come on. We both know what you need, and it isn’t more caffeine.”

“No, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not saying you’ve gotta go full black eyes again. Just drink enough to keep you awake enough to drive you back to the cabin without killing yourself, and then that’s it.”

Sam debated for a moment, brain foggy from lack of sleep.

“C’mon Sam, you have enough self control to handle just one cup, don’t you?”

“I…” he sighed before nodding, “Fine.”

“C’mon, Dean,” the creature sneered at him, black dripping out of his mouth, “We both know you can’t hurt me when I look like this.”

“Oh no?” Dean twisted the knife sticking out of its’ chest, face falling slightly as it didn’t cry out in pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you waiting for this?” The Leviathan let out a cry of pain, before pointedly looking to the eldest, “Don’t tell me you taught him how to torture.”

Bobby glared, “Don’t worry. We got enough books to keep you busy for the next thousand or so years.”

“Ooohhh,” Leviathan-Sam smiled before turning back to Dean, “Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

“This doesn’t look good.”

Sam pulled up to the cabin slowly, noting the uncooked steaks on the barbeque and the open front door, “No, no it’s not.”

He got out of the car, gun at the ready as he approached the house, listening for any signs of movement. He made his way into the living room, eyes scanning the surrounding area for any sign of his brother or father figure. Feeling a sense of dread, he continued deeper into the cabin, feeling of dread growing as each bedroom he checked came up empty.

A whistle from Lucifer got him back into the hall, following the devils’ gaze to the floor, and the upturned carpet that revealed a trap door. This place has a basement? He opened the trap door and immediately heard his brother grunting, and it’s soundproof? He started down the steps as swiftly as he could without making too much noise. As he came down the stairs he saw his brother, getting choked out by what looked to be him.

Wait… what? He reached the bottom, and noted Bobby was laying on the floor, gash on his head preluding to why. He spotted the machete a few feet away and picked it up, before creeping up behind the creature, noting the black that was soaking the shirt it wore. Ah, his eyes met his brothers’, face melting into a relieved smile.

“Why’re you smiling?”

Momentarily stunned hearing his voice come out of the thing in front of him, he swung at its’ head with all the strength he had, the sound of flesh cutting filled the air before the head landed on the floor with a thud.

His brother dropped to the ground, cast making a dull crack as it hit the ground. Dean coughed a bit before propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at his freshly-freed leg, “Well… that’s one way to get a cast off.”

“Was that what I think it was?” Sam offered his brother a hand.

“Yep. Leviathan you,” Dean stumbled a bit before finding his footing and looking triumphant, “We picked it up at the supermarket.”

“And here I thought you could only get food there.”

The brothers’ turned to see Bobby sitting up, holding a rag to the gash on his head, “Whenever you princesses are done over there, I’ll just wait here… possibly bleeding out.”

Dean rolled his eyes before making his way over to the older man, “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a bunch. You’re the one who picked him up, remember?”

Bobby shook his head, “You’re not gonna let me live that one down, are ya?”

“Nope.” The blonde swung Bobbys’ one arm across his shoulders before helping him up, moving toward the stairs, “How could you of thought that thing was Sam?”

“Well excuse me. It looked like your brother, talked like your brother, and recognized me, I’ll be sure to test him in front of the cops next time.”

Sam stood over the Leviathans’ body, eyes fixated on the eyes, it looks so real…

“Of course it does,” Lucifer perched himself in the torture chair, following his gaze, “They’re one of the oldest creatures in creation. Dad didn’t feel the need to skimp on their powers.”

Sam kicked the head a bit further away from the body, shifting his body weight from one foot to the other, one hand closing around the flask in his pocket, keeping his voice low, “Do you think he noticed?”

“Your brother?” Lucifer laughed and shook his head, “Not likely. Dean’s not exactly the sharpest crayon in the box. It’ll probably take him a while to notice. Just don’t go disappearing for long stretches of time and leaving a trail of bodies behind like last time and you’ll be fine.”

“Sam?”

The youngests’ head whipped up at the call and he started toward the stairs, “Yeah?”

“Where’s my pie?”

-----------------------------

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years

Text

The Girl Next Door (Part 11) - Starry Night

Summary: Dean takes the reader out on a surprise date...

The Girl Next Door Masterlist

Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader

Word Count: 5,800ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Enjoy!

Reader’s POV

You woke up warm, a blanket half draped over you. Fingers were playing in your hair and you tilted your head up, Dean laying beside you with his head propped up in his free hand.

“Good morning,” he said gently, giving you a kiss. “Sleep good?”

“Yeah,” you said, stretching out some, curling back onto your side and into his chest. He giggled, such a cute noise you lifted your head to find his face. “Your bedhead is amazing. It’s like a spiky little fluffy hedgehog climbed up there or something.”

“Oh. Well. If you want to talk bedhead,” he said, gaze darting around. “You are one to be saying something right now, sweetheart.”

He smiled and ran his thumb over a piece, that one piece that always stuck straight up somehow, smiling when it popped straight back up again.

“You’re a very good snuggler,” you said.

“It’s one of my many skills,” he teased. “I’m very good at being a big spoon and cuddling under blankets too.”

“Suddenly I wish it were winter,” you laughed. He chuckled as you sat up, watching you look around for your crutches. “Uh, Dean. Not to ruin the moment but I gotta use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” he said. You ran a hand over your face to wipe away the light blush, Dean sitting up and pulling you into his lap.

“I can walk Dean,” you laughed as he carried you into your bathroom.

“Yeah but this is faster. Shout if you need anything,” he said. He shut the door after himself and you got a few minutes alone, pushing open the door when you finished to find the bed made and your crutches up against the wall. You snagged them just as Dean came back in the room. “So I’ll let you get dressed and if you need help, Jack said he could since I don’t want to be seeing things you aren’t comfortable showing yet if that’s alright.”

“I’ll be fine,” you said. Jack popped around the corner and you asked him to grab a tank top from your closet. He pulled out a light orange colored Henley one. Normally you would have worn your favorite faded denim shorts with it but you were on loose clothing down there for the next little while.

You grabbed a pair of blue running shorts instead and a new pair of underwear and bra from your dresser before you sat back on the bed. Jack left and you could hear he and Dean talking farther down the hall. Surprisingly, getting your bottom half dressed was far easier than the top. You got your bra on decent enough but your side ached. Looking down, there was a large bruise, an ugly dark purple, running all along your left side. You took a deep breath and tugged on your tank top, laying back through gritted teeth when you finished.

“You doing okay in there? Sounds not fun,” called Dean.

“I’m okay. Pain meds wore off is all. You guys can come in,” you said. “Someone bring me Tylenol please.”

“Hey,” said Dean, stepping inside and helping you sit up. Jack ducked into your bathroom and exited with a bottle and glass of water. “Shouldn’t you take the medicine the doctor gave you?”

“It’s too strong. I don’t like it. This is fine,” you said, taking a pill. “I’ll take it slow for a few days.”

“Alright. You up for some breakfast?” asked Dean. You nodded, Dean kneeling down in front of you. “Climb on. Careful of that leg.”

“I know,” you said, getting on his back. Three minutes later you were set down in Sam’s kitchen, sniffing the air and getting a whiff of strawberries and cream. “Mmm. I should make some danishes this week.”

“You ain’t making nothing, sis,” said Jack, setting a glass down in front of you. “You’re off that leg all week.”

“I got orders to make up,” you said, pursing your lips until you stared at Sam who was rolling his eyes. “What?”

“Let us bake. I’m off babysitter duty and Dean’s going back part time everyday this week but he and Jack are home in the afternoon. We can help out,” said Sam.

“You’re not supposed to be working Sam,” you said.

“Well neither are you,” he said. “And it’s baking, not case law.”

“How about you two rest and you make up a list of what Jack and I need to make and then in the afternoon, we can do it, hm?” said Dean. “Sound good?”

“I got deliveries at noon tomorrow though,” you said, Sam sliding a waffle covered plate in front of you.

“We can make cookies today!” said Avy. Dean looked at you and you sighed, nodding your head.

“Alright but Jack is in charge since he’s been helping out a little in the afternoon’s,” you said.

“Perfect. This’ll be great.”

“Boys are silly,” said Avy as you hung out on your back porch later that day, drawing a few pictures with her.

“Oh yes they are,” you said.

“You know we can hear you two!” said Dean through your open back door. You laughed and reached up to open the door, poking your head in.

“While it was funny the first time, please don’t drop that bag of flour all over the floor too,” you said.

“We got it,” said Sam.

“I smell something burning,” said Avy.

“Did you boys set the timer to eleven minutes?” you asked with a hum.

“Yes...how long before they were in there when we did that?” asked Sam.

“New batch boys. I don’t sell burnt things,” you said.

“This is hard,” grumbled Sam as he stepped outside. “I’m playing the brain card and taking a break.”

“Help me up?” you asked, Sam lifting you to your feet when he came onto the back porch. “Thanks.”

You popped inside on one crutch, much easier to get around on in the house, Dean and Jack staring at the empty mixing bowl. You took a seat on one of the counter stools, Jack flicking his eyes in your direction. You let your own wander over to the directions you had printed in the binder, Dean scratching his head.

“Alright. Dean, you measure out everything. Jack, dump the old cookies and wash off the sheet carefully. I’ll walk you through it.”

“I’m exhausted,” said Dean, plopping down in a kitchen chair a few hours later, staring at the pink boxes you had stacked and ready to go. “It was only chocolate chip cookies too.”

“And it’s tiring work,” you said, Jack frosting a few of the sugar cookies you’d made. “Dean, you guys really don’t have to do this after work tomorrow. I can get around the kitchen pretty good. I-”

“You see what I’ve been dealing with my whole life?” said Jack, lifting up the cookie sheet, a pretty decent job if you had to say so. “Always been a perfectionist this one.”

“You do remember when I didn’t even exist to dad for like...years,” you said. “You were the golden child for quite a while.”

“I get the feeling your dad was a bit of a hard ass,” said Dean, leaning back in his seat. You shrugged, Jack doing the same.

“He loved us and I was very upset when he and mom died. We both were. Dad just wasn’t...affectionate really. He worked a lot. Valued intelligence,” said Jack.

“It wasn’t until I told him I wanted to be a neurosurgeon that he looked in my direction. Apparently I should have said I was going to be a doctor when I was four like Jack did and not fourteen,” you said.

“When’d you drop out of school, Jack?” asked Dean, a smile in his voice.

“After freshman year. I mean, I like school. I was good at it. It just...dad had my entire life planned out already. I had no say. I think I was more afraid of turning into him than anything,” said Jack.

“Yeah. I understand that,” said Dean, looking over his shoulder and back at Sam’s house, his parents car parked in the driveway. “So your mom raised you two? You’re both relatively normal human beings.”

“Yes and no,” you said, glancing to Jack. “Our mom…”

“Mom was the kind of woman that slept with the tennis instructor,” said Jack. “She you know, raised us and all that and made up for what dad didn’t do but if she had a date, she had a date. Mom and dad had a very...open relationship. Grandma watched us mostly until I got old enough to stay home with Y/N alone.”

“Wow. We’re the freaking Brady bunch compared to your family,” said Dean.

“They were never cruel or unkind. Very focused on their goals was all, whether that was a job or men or whatever,” you said.

“So when I decide to not have a life plan, it sort of made them both tailspin,” said Jack.

“Still. It’s your life. Not theirs,” said Dean, twitching up his lip in a smile. “I’ll be back over in a few minutes if that’s alright. I want to say hey to my parents before they head home.”

“Dean,” you said. He stopped on the way to the door. “Tell them thank you for bringing dinner by for us tonight. I appreciate that.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he said. The house was quiet once he left, Jack finishing up the last few cookies, packing them neatly in a box. He tucked them all away in the overnight storage area, washing up a few things before he started to dry off his hands.

“Jack,” you said, Jack tossing down a towel on the counter. “Do you still paint?”

“I haven’t painted in a long long time,” he said.

“Would you paint something for the house? Maybe something for the front entrance. That wall where the little table is?” you asked.

“I can do that. What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Surprise me?”

“Dad always thought it was a stupid hobby.”

“Dad thought baking was a stupid hobby too. I love dad, Jack. I do. I love mom too. But they’re gone. I’m never going to call you a failure because you don’t want to be a workaholic asshole doctor like he was that barely noticed his own children. Dean’s got a point. These are our lives, Jack. We can do what we want with them. If you want to work in the garage the rest of your life, shit you want to go be a barista, mulch yards, go paint, I don’t care. I want us both to be happy and...I’m really starting to feel happy, Jack. For the first time. You seem more like yourself again too. Mom and dad wasn’t your fault. Whatever happened at that Bryerwood place wasn’t your fault. I almost died two days ago, Jack. It was close, closer than Sam and I made it sound. I just want you to know that if something happened to me, I’m really happy you’re my brother and I love you and you better go and get your ass over to the Winchesters because you’ll be a hot mess and they’ll take care of you, alright?”

“You still love me?” he asked.

“Yeah. I do,” you said. “I’m sorry if you felt like I didn’t.”

“You gave me a second chance. I already knew. It’s nice to hear it is all,” he said.

“How can I not love my big brother?” you teased.

“I love you too,” he said. He stepped over and gave you a hug, the door opening and closing, your head turning to give Dean a smile and an aw.

“Was there a moment?” he smirked.

“Moment’s done,” said Jack. “I’m going to shower and crash. I’m beat.”

“Alright. Get some sleep, Jackie,” you said.

“Night, puppy,” he said.

“Puppy?” asked Dean.

“He wanted a puppy when my mom was pregnant. He thought he was getting a puppy, not a little sister,” you said. “He was only like two so you gotta give him some slack.”

“I thought Sammy was going to be a watermelon,” said Dean. “Mom’s stomach got huge.”

“I bet. He was probably a big baby. Do you mind locking up the front door?” you asked, starting to head for the stairs. “If you’re staying over that is.”

“Would you like me to stay?” he asked, holding up a backpack. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

“What are you comfortable with?” you asked.

“Oh my god. You two are disgusting,” called Jack from the upstairs balcony. “Just stay over, dumbass.”

“I think I liked you better when you were antsy, you know!” shouted back Dean. “Kids these days, I swear.”

“What are you, a thousand?” said Jack. “I’m only five years younger.”

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” said Dean with a smirk after locking the back door. “I have to go give your big brother a reason why he should be grateful he doesn’t have one of his own.”

“Dean’s coming to destroy you, just an fyi,” you said as you looked upwards, Dean jogging past you and up the stairs, Jack’s feet pounding but you heard a thud and pair of laugh’s coming from the hall. “Avy you were right. Boys are silly.”

Monday Morning

“Hi girlie,” you said, smiling when Eileen stepped inside the house.

“Could you guys like, stop dying, please. This is too stressful for me,” she said, setting her bag down by the door. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, Eileen raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Nurse Lehay, I’m fine.”

“You staying off that leg?” she said, throwing an arm under your shoulder. You hummed as she helped you upstairs and to your room, setting you down on your bathroom bench.

“I forgot how strong you get lugging around bodies all day,” you said.

“Says the chick picking up all those sacks of flour and sugar all day long,” she said, going to your shower and turning it on. She stared at you a moment and you sighed. “Y/N, we were roommates. How many times have I seen you naked?”

“I know. Just...don’t freak on me,” you said.

“I’m a nurse. It takes a lot to freak me out,” she said. You peeled off your shirt, Eileen closing her eyes.

“Totally not noticeable, right?” you said.

“That is a nasty bruise,” she said, kneeling beside you. You took off your bra and covered your chest with an arm, letting her get a better look. “Well, it ain’t pretty but there are signs of healing. I’m shocked you didn’t break any of these ribs. Must have eaten your wheaties that day.”

“Sam grabbed the wheel and turned it. He was looking that direction thankfully. I don’t think I’d be walking if he hadn’t,” you said. “Or breathing.”

“You never know with car accidents. Sometimes they’re bad, sometimes you walk away with only a few scratches,” she said. “Alright. First we get you in the shower and then I can put on a new bandage for you.”

“I wish all patients were like you,” teased Eileen after your shower and you were dressed on the bed. “You know how uncomfortable all the bending is.”

“I have tweaked my back changing bandages on people so many times,” you said, lowering your leg back to the bed. “So you officially done with Mr. Winchester next door?”

“Nursing, yes. Other aspects are...starting up,” she said with a smile.

“Sam’s a good guy, Eileen,” you said. “He likes you. You got to be pretty special for Sam Winchester to like you.”

“I know. I totally broke all the rules with him but...he’s sweet. We’re going out tonight,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You and Dean doing anything fun?”

“Babysitting Avy with him and my brother?” you laughed. “I’m sure I’m in for a thrilling night myself.”

You were a little surprised when Sam dropped Avy off himself at your house that night. You were more surprised when Jack said he was watching her that night.

“Avy, why don’t you go help Y/N pick out a dress?” asked Sam. She took your hand and with a little help from Jack, you were upstairs, standing in front of your closet.

“What about this one?” asked Avy. You laughed and shook your head.

“That was my prom dress, Avy. I don’t know why I even have that still. How about one of those light summer ones on the end?”

She pursed her lips and stood in front of the three of them, two you’d never even worn beside the store. She pointed at the white one with little flowers on it, the tag still hanging on it.

“I think we got a winner,” you said. “Can you get up on your tiptoes and take it off the rack for me?”

“Here you go,” she said, handing it over. You ripped off the tags and dropped them in the garbage. “Mommy had a dress like that.”

“She did? Do you remember doing stuff with your mom?” you asked, Avy hopping into the bedroom while you changed in the closet.

“Not really. I know she was nice and daddy loved her and I loved her though. He used to be really quiet after she died, like at nighttime,” she said. “Uncle Dean lived with us for a while when I was really little.”

“You know Avy, my and Jack’s mom died too, and our dad,” you said, stepping out into the room, taking a seat on the bench. “If you ever want to talk about that stuff, we understand how it can feel funny.”

“Daddy talks about mommy a lot since his accident. But happy now if that makes sense,” she said.

“It does. Did your daddy talk to you about Eileen?”

“Mhm. I like her. She makes daddy happy and she’s gonna take me and him to the zoo on Saturday!” she said.

“Well Eileen’s been my friend for a while and I know you guys are gonna get along great,” you said. “Would you mind grabbing my crutch over there?”

“Mhm. I told daddy to stop getting in car accidents,” she said as she handed it to you and you stood up.

“I second that,” you said, smiling at her and twirling the bottom of your dress. “What do you think? Look good?”

“Uh huh. Uncle Dean will like that,” she said.

“I bet he will,” you said. “You have fun with Jack tonight. Beat him in Mario Kart for me.”

“Okey dokey,” she said. You laughed and headed out of the room, managing the stairs with Jack’s help.

Sam said goodbye to Avy before he left and you sat out on the front porch, smirking as you saw Dean slip out of Baby he’d parked out front. He was wearing a light red flannel, gray tee and some faded jeans, hands behind his back as he wandered up the driveway.

“Well who told you you were allowed to be that beautiful?” he said. You bit down your smile, Dean hopping onto the porch, bending down to deliver a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said, Dean pulling you to your feet and picking you up. “Can I keep you?”

“Please do,” he said, laughing as he got you settled into Baby, your crutches in the back.

“So where are you taking me all dolled up like this?” you asked.

“It's a surprise,” he said, bopping you on the nose. “You just sit back, relax, and let me take care of everything.”

Dean smiled and turned on the radio, backing out of the driveway and heading down the street, driving until you hit some back roads and you started to hit true farm country. He had the window down, singing along to one of the songs, tufts of soft hair moving in the wind. You took a quick picture, smiling before you set your phone back in your lap.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“You look so happy,” you said.

“I got my girl. I got my Baby. I got some tunes on a perfect summer night. I’m the happiest guy in the world, sweetheart,” he said.

“So what’s my surprise?” you asked, Dean shaking his head.

“Nope. I’m not telling. You just hold tight for a hot minute,” he said. You went along with him, Dean pulling off on a random dirt road between two fields, driving slowly as the sun started to set, the sky a brilliant orange and pink. He drove for only a minute and he drove onto the grass, pulling to a stop. “We’re here.”

“Middle of nowhere? We sure are,” you laughed.

“Oh but my lady, you are at the most exclusive locale in the world,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Out of the car with you.”

He hopped out and had you sit on the hood, humming while he grabbed some things out of the trunk.

“Don’t you dare turn around on me,” he warned, a lot of thudding and dropping going on behind you.

“Or what?” you laughed.

“Or...shut up,” he said, chuckling to himself. He worked for a few more minutes, as you watched the sun dip lower, Dean suddenly in front of you. “Trust me?”

“Definitely.”

He smiled and picked you up, your arms going around his shoulders.

“Close your eyes for me, Y/N. We aren’t going far,” he said. You did as told, Dean walking the two of you around to the other end. “I’m gonna set you down and spin you the other way. Keep ‘em closed and hold onto my shoulders, okay?”

“Okay,” you said. You felt your feet touch the ground, Dean sliding around to your bad leg, wrapping an arm around your waist to help keep the weight off of it.

“Alright. You can open now.”

You blinked a few times, turning your head up to look at him, giving him a side hug.

He had a cooler set down near a log, a blanket spread out on the ground and a tasty looking meal set out for you on top of it. There was a fire going just off to the side and you had no idea where he even got the wood from to start it.

“As I said, very exclusive place,” he said.

“I love it,” you said. You took a seat on the blanket, Dean grabbing you each a drink for your dinner. It was a homemade meal but delicious, Dean spending more time looking at you than paying his food any attention. He held up a finger and got up, turning on the radio in Baby, quiet music filtering over to where you sat.

When you finished, he pulled the blanket over to the fire, laying on top of it and back against the log, tucking you into his side.

“The stars are starting to come out,” you said, the sun long gone below the horizon.

“Yeah,” said Dean softly. “You can see a lot of them out here. Away from town.”

“Would you want to go on a weekend trip sometime? Once my leg is better,” you said. “Just us?”

“I would love that,” he said, kissing your cheek. “We could even take a few days more if you wanted.”

“Where do you want to go? The beach? Camping?” you asked.

“As long as I don’t have to fly, I’m all ears,” he said.

“Anywhere you’ve ever wanted to go and haven’t?”

“I just had the stupidest idea,” he said as he grinned.

“Hit me with it,” you said, watching a few flames.

“Road trip. A food road trip. We hit up some of the best barbecue places in the country. Texas, Georgia,Tennessee. It could be fun,” he said. “But like I said, it’s really stupid.”

You sat up, staring at him before you whacked him in the arm.

“That’s the best idea ever! Hell yeah we’re doing that!” you said. “That’ll be so much fun!”

“Really?” he said. You nodded, Dean smiling to himself. “Well I say we got ourselves a little road trip soon then.”

“Awesome. It’ll give me something to look forward to besides tossing that stupid crutch in the trash,” you said, Dean pulling you back to his chest.

“Hey, it’s not all that bad. I got plenty of excuses to give you piggyback rides now,” he said, resting his head against the top of yours. “How’s your side feeling today?”

“Sore still but I’ll survive. You’re very comfy,” you said.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said, your bandage peeking out from the bottom of your dress, Dean’s finger trailing over the edge of it. “Y/N. This thing we have going on...this relationship...it means a lot to me.”

“Me too. This isn’t a fling for me, Dean,” you said, tilting your head up with a smile.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, moving his hand, finding your own to play with. “It’s not for me either. But I’m falling. I’m falling so damn fast and it feels...different. I was a wreck at the hospital after your accident. I snuck outside and...that was the second time in as many months that I thought someone I care about wasn’t walking out of that place. I bawled like a baby, Y/N. I thought how dare you just come into my life and make me feel happy and like it’s okay for someone else to take care of me for the first time and then you were almost out of it. Not to mention what you did for Sammy. Sure it was a gut reaction but somewhere in that head of yours you care enough to keep him safe. I guess I’m rambling and I’ll deny I ever said any of that but...you’re important to me. God, I hope you know what that means to me,” he said. You smiled and nodded, giving him a kiss.

“I do,” you said, barely above a whisper, the fire crackling in front of you. “I have something to admit.”

“What?” he breathed out.

“See, I’m falling too. It feels like I forget to breathe sometimes when I think about it. But as long as we’re both falling...maybe we’ll be lucky enough to hit the ground together,” you said.

“If we’re lucky,” he said with a small nod. “I really hope we get lucky. We’re due for some good luck.”

“I think we might get lucky,” you said, staring up at him, big green eyes staring back. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what, sweetheart?”

“Making me forget to breathe,” you said.

“S’only fair. My stomach’s been doing flips from the second I met you,” he said, eyes darting around your face. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Good. I was running out of metaphors,” you said. Dean lay you back against the ground, laying on his side before he cupped your cheek, kissing you softly, making a lazy game out of it.

You arched up into it, rolling to your bad side when pain shot through it. You hissed and rolled back, Dean pressing a finger to your lips.

“Stay,” he said, kissing you again, still slow, still sweet. He lay his arm out so you could rest your head on it, his other hand touching your face, mapping out lines and curves. You let yourself do the same, feel the scruff on his cheeks, the hard set jaw that was relaxed right now, dance over the freckles adorning his skin.

Your hand wandered to the back of his neck and to his hair. His hair was always so soft, little spikes sticking up, little tufts forming that made him even more gorgeous.

Anyone that ever thought he was stupid or not good enough had to have been nuts.

Dean pulled back, his face flush, a few big breaths leaving him and fanning over your face. He smiled goofily and you took the opportunity to nuzzle a finger under his chin, Dean curling his head into it.

“Tickles,” he mumbled, your finger trailing down to his collar, dipping in the hollow of the bone. “Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you said, moving your arm over his waist instead.

“You like me for me,” he said. There wasn’t a question in there so you didn’t say anything, Dean moving a few strands of your hair around. “Can I tell you something, something no one else knows? Even Sammy doesn’t know.”

“Yeah. I won’t tell,” you said. He smiled and looked behind you at the fire, up at the dark sky and the bright stars that were peeking out. Finally he settled his gaze back on your face, a shy look there.

“Last week I applied to this mechanic training program in Kansas City. Just outside the city actually. It’s for...it teaches more stuff, more foreign cars, high end cars, motorcycles. Stuff that Bobby never knew about, none of the guys at the shop do. It’d really help the business grow. I uh...I got in,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “I wanted to tell you on our date on Friday but that obviously didn’t happen.”

“You did? That’s great, Dean! I’m so proud of you,” you said, tucking in closer to give him a hug.

“I...I did good on the test and...I got a scholarship for it. It’s only be for like the fall and in the afternoons but...yeah,” he said with a smile. You sat up, ignoring the pain in your side at the sudden movement.

“I am so happy for you,” you said, giving him a bigger hug and kiss when he leaned up. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah. Nervous. Been awhile since I was in school. All these other guys are gonna be like straight out of high school,” he said, his cheeks pink for a few seconds.

“Well you have a ton of experience and you’re so smart. You’re gonna do great. If you have tests, I can help you study or-“

“I know, honey. You know, I’ve wanted to apply for years now. Always thought I wasn’t good enough. But you never believed that,” he said, shrugging his shoulder. “I thought...maybe you were right and so I put in for it...thank you, sweetheart.”

“You are more than good enough, for whatever you want to do or try,” you said. Dean rested his forehead against your own. “You got that, Winchester?”

“I got it,” he laughed. “I’d hate to get on your bad side after all.”

“You’re never getting on my bad side,” you said, bumping your nose to his. “I think you should tell Sam and everyone, let them know you got in.”

“It’s not like I got into Stanford,” he said, looking down.

“Dean,” you said, lifting your head, Dean’s moving with it, the two of you slowly peeling apart, the flames behind you lighting up his face. “You did something for you. You put yourself first for the first time since I’ve met you. I know that is not something you do very often. I want to celebrate this, celebrate you.”

“These have been the worst few months of my life, but also the best.”

“You gave me back my brother,” you said. “That alone is...then I get you and...do you remember that morning in my kitchen when Jack showed up that day?” Dean nodded, reaching towards your lap and taking your hands in his.

“You said you were lonely in that house. You’ve been lonely for a long time, haven’t you,” he said.

“I don’t feel so lonely anymore. I’m over Sam’s everyday, always with someone it seems. I still like my quiet time, like you, but it’s refreshing now,” you said. “Not so...unwanted.”

“Good. You’re gonna make a baker out of that boy,” said Dean. “Sammy always did like making cookies with mom.”

“What’s your favorite kind of pie, Dean?” you asked.

“Cherry. You are very much wanted too, sweetheart,” he said, carefully sliding you to sit in his lap.

“Well tomorrow I am making you a cherry pie for getting into your school and for being arguably the best neighbor I’ve ever had,” you said, tossing your arms over his shoulders.

“Was that all it took?” he teased.

“Dean?”

“Y/N.”

“I want to kiss you again,” you said.

“Please do,” he said, laying the both of you down again. “You’re always welcome to do that.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, your eyes blinking open as you felt yourself be set down on your bed hours later. “Don’t wake up. I’m just gonna take off your sneakers and get you covered up, okay?”

“We’re home?” you mumbled.

“Yeah. You kept insisting we stay but I got work and you need a proper bed to rest in,” he said, your shoes falling to the floor. You shut your eyes and felt a light blanket come over you. Something moved your hair and Dean pulled it out of the loose pony it’d been in.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your temple.

You were out before he even had a chance to turn off the light.

A/N: Read Part 12 here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfcition #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #au #mechanic!dean

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destielthedeathofme · 6 years

Text

Worthless

Prompt: THIS FUCKING MASTERPIECE

Author: @destielthedeathofme

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Tags/Genre: Destiel, Painter! Dean, Critic! Cas, it's sadder than I anticipated, I'll try to make it funny, it's kinda angsty

Summary: read bro

Author's note: beep boop

~♡~

Dean cursed as Gabe nearly knocked over a display.

"Dumbass! Watch where you're going."

Gabriel just stuck his tongue out at him and proceeded to walk around.

Today was the biggest day of Dean's career and a Twizzler addict was not going to ruin it.

"Hey Dean-o why so glum?"

Dean winced as Gabriel's sickly sweet breath came in contact much too close to his face. Man, personal space seemed to just not affect Gabriel. He didn't expect any more from Gabe. Dean anxiously ran his hands through his hair, he could give Gabriel a million reasons but Dean settled on one.

"Because I'm fucking nervous you dwarf."

"Ouch." Gabriel put his hand to his chest in mock hurt.

Sam wandered over to Dean, but as soon as he spotted Gabriel, started walking fast. In the other direction.

Gabriel's eyes lit up in mischief, "HEYYY SAMMMMYYYY."

You may think by mischief, Dean refers to something childish. But no, simply because Gabriel is the embodiment of mischief.

Dean sighed, he wasn't going to survive today. But at least he was better off than poor Sam. Dean narrowed his eyes at

Charlie who had decided to take a break. Charlie gave him a terrified smile and got up again, undoubtedly cursing him off under her breath. She probably deserved one. Sure he was being a bit bitchy, but he had the right. Everything had to be perfect today.

Dean was your average struggling artist who just moved to the city two years ago. He lived in a tiny apartment where cockroaches ruled and the water tasted like lead, but he was alive and grateful. Dean knew he had to live with it because he was the one who chose to paint. He was the one that chose to paint and he would live with the consequences. Painting wasn't just colors and a canvas to Dean. No, it was much much more. Painting consumed him. Every stroke, every speck. And there wasn't Dean without art.

Too bad his father couldn't see that.

But Dean was still grateful, nonetheless that Sammy had flown out to see him. Sammy was the only family he had left. His friends were the best. He couldn't be more grateful for Gabriel, Charlie, Benny, Garth, and Jo, all of whom had shown up today.

Dean didn't like being the center of attention, how ironic that he was having an exhibition, full of his works, everything that symbolized him. Sure he liked to fool around at parties and make jokes like his life depended on it. But when it mattered, Dean didn't like attention. Maybe because he grew up without it.

Dean stifled a laugh as he saw Sam start to run away from Gabe, who seemed to catch up to Sam within seconds although his legs weren't even half as long. Funny what love could do.

Someone came up from behind him and Dean turned, sensing the "boo".

Jo pouted at him, hands at her hips, "You're no fun, Winchester."

Dean smirked, "Honey, you and I both know that's not true."

Jo hugged him, laughing, Dean loved Jo she was his best friend next to Charlie and the others. Her mom was also kind of his mom. Ellen has raised him, especially when John couldn't.

Dean circulated throughout the room, eyeing every exhibit, making sure it was set to perfection. He nodded approvingly at his friends, Garth and Benny, especially who had shown up a little early to help him.

God, what would he do without these people?

A voice chimed in, "Crash and burn."

Dean grinned at Charlie who had probably heard him although he was fairly sure he didn't say it out loud. Dean wondered how she was still beaming even after missing out on nearly 2 meals. Sure they ordered food but Charlie was hell-bent on helping.

"So I did some digging online and I know some critics that are going to show up today."

Dean's face lit up, finally some good news, there wasn't a single critic in the area that he didn't know. Dean would be prepared for them.

"Well? Spit it out."

"Okay geez, anyway I've got Balthazar you know the party freak, Chuck the guy who used to be a prodigy, Amara the one who's always trying to get in your pants, Rowena the bitchy one, and Castiel?"

Dean's face when white at the mention of Castiel.

Castiel Novak was a legend in the art industry. Anyone and everyone knew him. But he'd gone quiet over the years, just sort of disappearing. Much to Dean's disappointment, no amount of stalking would even bring up a picture of the guy or where he was. He was Dean's inspiration in art, for as long as he could remember. Castiel was known for his attitude and infamous temper. Maybe that's why Dean liked him so much. Hell, the focal point of tonight’s exhibition was a piece inspired by Castiel. Dean had named it “Angel”, and as cliche as that sounded, it was true. Castiel specialized in angels and supernatural beings, as did Dean. But his Angel tonight had been to honor his mother, Dean tried his best to replicate her and hadn’t let anyone see that one yet.

Here's the million dollar question.

How the fuck did he know who Dean Winchester was?

"Earth to Dean Winchester!!"

Dean blinked, "Uh yeah right here."

Charlie huffed in annoyance, "Dean you look like you just saw a ghost, are you alright? You know what, don't answer that, go take a walk."

Charlie pushed Dean towards the door, as much as he protested, but maybe this was a good idea.

As Dean opened the door, his nerves multiplied as he saw people start entering. The exhibition didn't start till 5:00 but there were some people trickling in.

something that would hopefully help him relax. But as fate would have it, Dean doesn't get to relax. Dean opened the large door of the exhibition hall and started walking outside, but there were too many things on his mind and so he bumps into someone.

Naturally, Dean's first response was,

"Are you blind?"

Dean looked up at the man who was frowning at Dean. Dark hair and blue eyes the guy reminded Dean of someone he knew but he was too pissed off to care. Now if Dean Winchester had been paying attention he would have noticed the way the man’s hair curled around his neck and how gravelly his voice was. But Dean totally wasn’t paying attention to those things. Totally not.

"You bumped into me."

"Whatever."

By the time Dean had finished taking a walk, it's time for the exhibition to start.

Dean would like to think that he's relaxed at this point, many people had already offered deals on his artwork, commissions, praises. But Dean isn’t. No, Dean was waiting for Castiel. If Castiel would so much as nod at his painting Dean would be complete.

It was time for the Q/A session and as far as Deam could tell, Castiel was a no-show. This was it. The time for the big reveal.

Dean pulled the sheets from over the painting.

Little gasps erupted amongst the crowd and Dean felt a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders. He looked over to Sam who had tears in his eyes.

Dean’s voice cracked as he spoke, ”This is my final piece of the night.”

He took a shaky breath.

“A-Any questions?”

At least a hundred hands shot up in the air and Dean felt like the room was getting smaller. He patiently answered them all, beaming at the positive responses.

“Who is your inspiration for this piece?”

“Well the actual piece is of my mother but one of my favorite artists Castiel Novak inspired the style.”

When the crowd quieted down, one hand remained in the air, and between the blinding lights with a mix of nerves Dean almost didn't see that hand.

“Would you like my opinion of your work?”

Its the same voice from earlier and Dean can’t help but feel a strange sense of deja vu.

“Yes.”

“It's worthless.”

The crowd gasped as a few shouts were aimed at the man.

Dean went a little numb. And at that moment Dean blessed his smart-ass self.

“I know but tell me anyway.”

The crowd roared and Dean could've sworn he saw the man smirk.

“My name is Castiel Novak and I will pay as much as you’d like for this painting.”

Dean was going to faint but his ego wouldn’t let him.

“It's not for sale.”

“My point exactly, this painting is worthless for anyone but you, because it holds much more meaning for you than it ever will to anyone else.”

“And since you won’t sell me this painting I would like to commission a painting from you.”

“For my entire fortune. But one exception, you will do so under my roof and my rules.”

“Do you accept?”

“I do.”

#omfg #supernatural #what have i done #destiel #otp #fanfic #oneshot #read pls #idek #destielthedeathofme

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goodfemalecharacters · 6 years

Text

13x17 Coda: I’m Back, Baby

Gabriel returns and snarks about Destiel, Sam tries his hand at a little awkward nursing, and Cas has a headache. 1k

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you for trapping me in endless Tuesdays,” Sam says.

A glimmer of something—something other than the hopeless, dead look, something kind of like mirth—flickers in Gabriel’s eyes before he ducks his head. Sam sighs. He means it: he’s not going to be forgetting about the six months after Tuesday anytime soon, either. But he knows perfectly well what getting your lips stitched together feels like, and he assumes being drained of your Grace is similar to being gutted.

So yeah. He’s not just going to leave the guy sitting at their table covered in blood.

“Uh—sit tight.”

Okay. Brother in another dimension. Archangel in what is basically their living room. Ketch on their side. Right. He can deal with this.

As Sam heads off to their well-stocked linen closet (“What a bunch of pansies,” Dean had remarked, surreptitiously stealing a sniff of the MoL’s detergent), he pulls out his phone and taps in Cas’s name. He’s going to be pissed when he learns Dean is off in the apocalypse world, but right now, Sam needs an extra pair of hands on deck.

“You have who in the bunker?”

Sam shoves the phone between his ear and shoulder as he grabs a handful of cloths and stuffs them under his arm.

“How fast can you be here?”

Castiel mutters something about construction on I-70, but he estimates about two and a half hours.

“Great. See you in a bit.”

On the way back to the library, he fills a bowl with water. It would be easier to get Gabriel into the kitchen or one of the bathrooms, but he knows from experience that the last thing he’s going to want to do is move.

He’s careful to make plenty of noise in the hallway, giving Gabriel time to notice him and steel himself. When he plunks himself down in a chair across from him, Gabriel doesn’t even flinch.

“This might sting a little,” he announces.

He dunks one of the cloths in the water, wrings it out, and leans forward to dab a little bit of the blood off of his face. He’s not about to let infection set in—he definitely doesn’t need a feverish archangel wandering around, thanks.

“I feel like I’m in a period piece, Samantha.”

Sam just stares at him. “You’ve been sewn up for months and that’s your opening line?”

Another hint of that twinkle. “I’m back, baby.”

Resisting the urge to throw the stupid rag in his face, Sam decides to just pass it over. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. Despite the bravado, it’s clear Gabriel is more affected by his imprisonment than he’s letting on. When the bunker creaks and settles, he almost jumps out of his chair.

“I called Cas,” he says.

Gabriel lets out a low whistle, flinching minutely as the motion pulls at the stitches still in his lips. “He’s still kicking? No way. I thought he would have died for lover boy by now.”

Sam doesn’t bother acknowledging how close to the truth that is. Instead, he winds up fetching Dean’s laptop and pulling Netflix up. He figures Gabriel will get a kick out of The Good Place.

About three episodes in, he gets a quiet, “Thank you,” that they both pretend wasn’t said.

The truck rumbles beneath him as Cas finally manages to swerve out of the last of the construction and on to the open highway. He can’t quite get his jumbled thoughts in order. Sam’s lack of explanation isn’t helping matters much.

He can’t quash the little spark of hope, though. Gabriel is the last of his brothers and sisters who has not rejected him. Maybe he can still find a little sliver of the home he once had.

By the time he pulls up in front of the bunker, he’s actually nervous. It’s the strangest thing, but he almost has the urge to straighten his tie. Instead, he puts a hand on the hilt of his angel blade, just in case he’s been tricked.

“Sam?”

“In here!” Sam calls.

When there’s not immediately a snarky comment in response, his suspicions rise. Surely Gabriel would already be sarcastic if he were really here. After all, the last version he saw of his brother was a fake, too.

Sam certainly seems convinced. Cas rounds the corner just as the credits start rolling on a TV show he hasn’t seen. Dean has been on a Dr. Sexy rerun kick lately because the finale aired last month, so they haven’t watched much else.

“Hey, little bro.”

If the bowl of slightly red tinged water beside them both is any indication, Gabriel was in far worse shape before, but he still looks like he’s taken the beating of a lifetime. Cas flounders for a second.

“You’re dead.”

Gabriel shrugs. “So were you, from what I heard.”

Fair point.

Slowly, painfully, Gabriel eases himself into a standing position. Cas takes the invitation. It feels strange to hug one of his brothers—they aren’t exactly the huggy type, as Dean would say—but feeling another flare of Grace so close is almost like coming home.

Cas loves the Winchesters, but there’s a piece of himself he’s had to bury these last few years that he misses sometimes.

He goes for a joke. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you for TV land.”

Gabriel opens his mouth, but Cas presses two fingers to his forehead and lets some of his Grace smooth away the worst of the wounds. There’s not a lot he can do about some of them; he doesn’t know who exactly got their hands on an archangel blade or how, but they knew what they were doing.

“Where’s Dean?”

Sam grimaces. “That’s the thing, Cas. He—well, we had all the ingredients, so he went through the rift.”

Cas follows his hand to the crack, suspended, flickering, in midair. How the hell had he not noticed that before?

“You let him go alone.”

Gabriel shrugs. “The British guy went with him.”

Cas’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “Sam—”

He feels a little like his heart is going to beat out of his chest, and isn’t that funny? It’s not supposed to beat at all, really, yet here he is. The thought of Dean in that world, the one they fought so hard to avoid, makes his chest actually hurt. If he dies—

“Oh my Dad. It got worse? Do they still do the thing where they say each other’s names in increasingly deeper voices?” Gabriel asks in a stage whisper. “Sam. How do you deal?”

Sam pretends he hasn’t heard. “Cas, I’m not happy about it either. But he’s right. If he doesn’t come back before the rift closes, we open it up and go after him. No sense all of us getting trapped there.”

“Right. Of course. I’ll just seduce another djinn queen,” Cas snaps.

He wishes they’d stop treating that particular jaunt like a grocery trip. It’s not as if fruit from the Tree of Life grows on trees.

Okay. It does. But it’s a rare tree.

“Seduce a—” Gabriel begins.

“You should rest,” Cas tells him. That is not a conversation he wants to have right now. “My room is second on the left.”

Thankfully, Gabriel follows the directions. Sam starts clearing away the medical supplies, allowing Cas the opportunity to sink into one of the nearby chairs and massage his forehead a little.

He needs time to process this. All of this.

(ao3)

#spn #spn spoilers #destielfanficnet #gabriel #spn s13 #spn fic #my fic

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 7 years

Text

Picking Flowers

Title: Picking Flowers

Pairing: Jack x Reader

Word Count: 1362

Warnings: Fluff with a hint of more fluff.

A/N: This is for the anon who requested some Jack Fluff. If you’re reading this anon, this one is for you I hope this satisfies your Jack fluff urges!

Jack had been wandering outside in the woodland area above the bunker where he found a patch of wild flowers. He specifically remembered a scene he had seen on the TV where the man had given the girl he likes flowers. An idea came to mind and he smiled, picking a few of them. He retreated back into the bunker with purpose.

“Hey buddy, where’ve you been?” Sam asked as Jack entered the library.

“I found some flowers,” Jack yelped in excitement. Sam looked down and his brows furrowed slightly.

“Huh, didn’t know there were flowers growing around here,” Sam stated. “And you shouldn’t be leaving the bunker. It isn’t safe to go out alone,” Sam scolded.

“I’m going to give it to Y/N!” Jack had the biggest grin on his face, which spread onto Sam.

“She’s going to love it,” Sam assured watching Jack wander off. “They grow up so fast,” Sam whispered his joke to himself, getting back to his reading.

Jack walked into the kitchen knowing that you loved to spend your time there munching on snacks, however he was met with a very focused Dean. Jack’s shuffling drew Dean’s attention away from the sandwich that he was assembling over to him. Dean seemed a bit taken aback at the sight of the flowers, wondering where the hell he got those from.

“Hello, Dean.”

“What’s up?”

Jack looked at him questionably, peeking up at the ceiling.

“Well, the ceiling. And above that, I’m sure there are clouds, birds, possibly flying vehicles, and…”

“You know what? Forget I asked,” Dean shook his head grabbing his sandwich and walking out.

Jack’s eyes followed Dean’s figure until he was out of sight. Jack then proceeded his trek through the bunker to find his favorite person. He walked to your room to find you asleep. He stared at you before looking down at the flowers. He was a little conflicted on what to do. Should he wait till you woke up, leave the flowers for you to find, or should he wake you so he could present his offering? Jack pouted before walking out.

He sat in the hallways, his back pressed against the wall near your door. He still wasn’t sure what to do so he decided to just sit and wait. Staring at the flowers in his hands, he admired their simple beauty. They were red with yellow edges and a fuzzy middle.

“What are you doing?” You called out as you walked out the door, causing Jack to flinch with surprise.

“Y/N!” Jack smiled before jumping up to his feet. “How was your nap?” He asked.

“It was nice,” you grinned, “thanks for asking.”

“Oh, and I picked these for you.” Jack stretched out his arm slightly, giving you the flowers.

You looked at them taking note on how pretty they were. You were going to ask where he had gotten them from but knew that was just useless information. The main thing was that he had actually thought about you when he picked them.

A slight blush scattered onto your cheeks. For the spawn of the devil, he was such a sweet guy; definitely getting it all from his mother. Kelly Kline was one of the nicest people you had ever met, and it was nice to see that Jack took his mother’s side than his biological father. If his father was actually Castiel, you were certain that there would be no bad bone in his body. Jack, the 100% good boy. You giggled at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Jack questioned, a smile etched on his face.

“This is a very sweet gesture. Thank you Jack.” You took the flowers from him and walked into your room again, Jack close behind.

“Your voice,” Jack started, you turned to him in curiosity of where this was going. “It’s nice. It reminds me of my mother,” he finished.

Somehow, your heart felt like it was swelling up. Jack had never met his mom face to face but the fact that he remembers her voice and he’s relating it to yours, felt like the biggest compliment. Kelly was kind, caring, sweet, optimistic, strong, and so much more. The fact that your voice could be ‘nice’ was strange to hear. You were a hunter; your voice was anything but nice. You’ve said some pretty nasty things in your life time.

“Thank you. Your mom, she… she was a really good person. You’re a good person.” You planted your hand on his cheek, caressing it gently with your thumb.

Jack closed his eyes relishing in the warmth of your touch. You couldn’t help but smile, admiring his delicate features. How could someone warm their way into your heart so quickly?

“Your hand is warm. I can feel the warmth all over my body,” he confessed.

“Good,” you beamed.

Flowers still in hand, you wrapped your arms around Jack’s neck which caught his full attention, his eyes opening to lock with yours. They were filled with question, yet were warm and calm. You licked your lips, catching his eyes watching the motion. Unable to stop yourself, you stood on your tipped toes and pressed your lips softly against him.

The kiss was short. Jack just continued to stare at you, his cheeks now red. His eyes drifted down back to your lips, wondering how it could feel so amazing. He could feel the tingly sensation it gave him shoot through his entire body, his heart beat picking up a bit, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted you to do that again. Your lips were soft, warm, a little wet, and it overall felt… magical.

“What was that?” Jack breathed.

“Your first kiss,” you giggled. Jack smiled at the sweet sound. How he wanted to hear it again, after feeling your lips pressed to his again.

“I really liked that. Can we kiss again?” He questioned.

“Sure.”

This time Jack leaned in, cupping your cheeks in his hands and kissed you. There was more pressure and it lasted longer. You instantly got lost, your hands pulling on the collar of his shirt to bring him closer. When he pulled away for air, your bodies were flushed against each other, the both of you red in the face.

“I like kissing,” Jack stated.

“You learned quick,” you winked, pulling away. “Now, let’s go to the kitchen so I can get a cup of water for my lovely flowers.

You and Jack walked through the halls when you met Sam and Dean in the library. Dean seemed to have been pacing around while Sam was sat by the table with his laptop in front of him.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey, Y/N. Jack.” Sam called.

“Yeah, hey,” Dean shrugged.

“I like kisses,” Jack admitted, walking up to Dean with a huge smile. Your face went red.

Of course the guys were going to find out that you had given Jack’s first kiss, but you didn’t think they would find out immediately right after.

“E-excuse me?” Dean raised his brows and pushed his head forwards a little, unable to comprehend what Jack had just said. “Kissing? What’s that supposed to mean?” He was scowling now. “Y/N, did he kiss you? Did he force himself on you?” Dean spat with fury.

“N-no!” You shouted when you noticed Dean was about to reach under the table for the gun that was hidden there.

“Y/N, gave me my first kiss!” Jack chirped, as if it was nothing to be embarrassed about.

“What?” Dean and Sam snapped at the same time.

Before you could reply, Jack had grabbed Dean by the face and planted a kiss on his lips. Dean flinched away completely mortified. “What the hell?!” He shouted, starting to make gagging noises and wiping his mouth on his sleeves.

“It doesn’t feel very nice kissing you,” Jack frowned with confusion.

“Jack, that’s not how kisses work,” Sam choked, trying to keep his laughter at bay.

“Don��t you ever do that to me ever again, or so help me, God, I will kill you!” Dean spat, storming towards the kitchen, most likely to wash his mouth with soap.

Feedback Is Appreciated!

Jack Tags: @mannatgalhotra @i-mpala67 @bisexualdolphinthings @ilovemyangelforever @pureawesomeness001 @brooke-supernatural16 @sarkina

#jack #jack kline #fluff #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #jack fanfic #jack fic #jack x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn #SPN fandom #spn family #jack fluff #Squirrel-moose-winchester #picking flowers

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