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argentnoelle · 3 years

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There’ll Be Peace When You Are Done AKA the REAL finale (Destiel + Sam/Eileen)

[read on ao3]

The shot focuses on DEAN, asleep in his bed. It’s angled so you can’t see the other half of his bed. Dean is lying on his side, and looks like he’s having a nightmare. His eyes fly open, and he calms himself for a moment before rolling over to look across the bed. The shot follows him to see CAS, under the covers beside him and obviously unclothed. There’s a glow, like sunrise, through the shot, making it look soft and peaceful, though that makes no sense since his room in the bunker has no windows, and an unobtrusive but calming background music.

CAS: [tilting his head, looking into Dean’s eyes] Dean? What’s wrong?

DEAN: Nightmare. I thought… [he pauses, evidently confused] I thought I’d lost something important…

CAS: What did you lose?

DEAN: I don’t know.... [he leans forward, buries his head in CAS’ shoulder. He still seems rattled]

CAS: [running a hand over Dean’s hair] Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll find it.

DEAN: I hope so. [chuckles] How do you always make me believe in miracles, Cas?

CAS: [confused] Well, I am an angel.

DEAN rolls his eyes and is about to say something snarky with a grin on his face when—

Shot cuts to a farther one. From above, showing Dean alone sleeping on the side of his bed, waking up. No music. No light. Just the sounds of his gasping breath and the light from the clock on his bedside table. He sits up, turns on the lamp, eyes still wild and you can see that he’s a complete wreck. His eyes are bloodshot, he looks like he hasn’t slept well since Cas died, which he hasn’t. The look on his face is one of profound and inconsolable bafflement and loss.

CUT TO SAM waking up. You see him walking out of the shower and getting ready, and to all intents and purposes, he looks like he’s doing fine. Not great, maybe, but definitely at least okay. SAM walks into the kitchen where DEAN is eating breakfast and already on his second beer. SAM looks, obviously notices, but doesn’t say anything. He sits at the table to join him.

CUT TO SAM doing laundry and reading, DEAN working on BABY, checking the motor, cleaning all the windows… as SAM is shown making phone calls, looking through books, eating lunch, DEAN is still working on BABY. He looks driven, almost frenzied, as though if he stops he’s going to fall apart where he stands. SAM stops by a door in the hallway and looks in, it’s obviously JACK’S room. It’s empty and dark. SAM doesn’t turn on the light but leaves the door open and stands there for a moment. He’s got a hollow expression, not entirely sad but not happy either.

CUT TO the library. SAM is on the computer when DEAN walks in, a duffle bag over his shoulder.

DEAN: Hey.

SAM: Hey. ...You doing all right?

DEAN: I can’t stay here anymore. I need some fresh air for a few days. You’ll be okay?

SAM: [with a surprised huff of a laugh] Of course I will.

DEAN: Good. [awkward silence] Good. Well then… [clears throat] See you.

He walks up the stairs toward the top of the bunker. Shot changes to SAM’S reaction. He looks worried and sad. You hear the clang of the door shut. SAM lets out a sigh and bows his head, closing his eyes. He speaks in a quiet tone…

SAM: Jack? I know you can hear me, and I know… you didn’t want people to pray to you, but… Dean’s not doing well, and I don’t know how to help… [shuddering sigh] actually, I’m not doing so well either. So, I mean, if you could…

SAM opens eyes. Looks around. JACK is still, obviously, not there. SAM leans back in his chair, looking gutted, but just then his phone, lying on the table beside him, vibrates. He picks it up.

EILEEN: [text] Sam, how are you?

SAM: [slight smile, texts back] Not great, honestly.

EILEEN: [facetime request]

SAM: [accepts request]

EILEEN: [speaking and signing] I found a hunt, just a simple salt and burn. If you want to join me?

SAM: [speaking and signing] I’ll be there.

NIGHT. Exterior, the Impala is parked on the side of a long, empty stretch of highway with trees around it. There’s a dirt path like a long driveway, which is where it’s parked at the front of, but you can’t see where the path leads, except into the woods.

CUT TO DEAN lying in the front seat, asleep, still from above. Then from the side, shot facing toward the back of the car. There’s a noise from the back seat, like someone shifting. DEAN’S eyes open, and he’s on the alert. He slowly inches up, hand reaching for a knife in its holster. The shot follows him until the camera, and DEAN, are peering into the backseat, where CAS is lying down, possibly asleep. As soon as it is clear that DEAN sees him, CAS opens his eyes, as though he’s sensed DEAN’S presence. He sits up.

CAS: Dean.

DEAN: [exhales] I’m dreaming, aren’t I.

CAS: [looks puzzled]

DEAN: [puts down knife, and reaches across the seat back. CAS leans forward till his hand is resting on the seat back and DEAN’S hand is resting on top of it. There’s a long silence.]

CAS: [gesturing to the car and the road] Where are you going?

DEAN: [sounding sad/lost/bitter] I don’t freaking know.

CAS: I’m sure you’ll realize when you get there.

DEAN: [brokenly] How the hell am I supposed to get there?

DEAN leans his head down until it’s resting on his elbows. When the shot cuts back to where CAS was, the seat is empty. DEAN opens his eyes blearily and stumbles outside, with his phone. He turns it on and you can see it says 12:00. He opens up SAM’S number and stares at it for a long time before not calling. He puts the phone down, and the shot follows it, becoming a close-up on the phone screen and the time.

CUT to DEAN again, he’s leaning against the back of the Impala, drinking beer.

CUT to closeup of phone. 1:00.

CUT to DEAN again. Still drinking, but there are empty bottles by his feet.

CUT to closeup of phone. 2:00.

CUT to DEAN, he walks off a few paces and offscreen vomits into the bushes.

CUT to closeup of phone. 3:00.

In a motel room, that’s lit only through the exterior lights outside the uncurtained window, SAM wakes up, looking uneasy. As he sits up, he disturbs the other person lying beside him, who you see, as she sits up, is EILEEN.

EILEEN: Sam? What’s wrong?

SAM: [gets out of bed, unplugs his phone from the wall, and calls DEAN. The phone rings. And rings. SAM looks back at EILEEN, he looks scared.

SAM: [putting down phone so he can sign and speak] It’s Dean. I think something’s wrong.

EILEEN considers this for a moment. You can see her considering that this is the middle of the night, and SAM is probably overreacting, but then you can see her deciding to take this seriously.

EILEEN: [getting up, speaking and signing] You can track his phone, right? [she is just wearing an undershirt and shorts right now, but after she speaks she starts changing, pulling a shirt over her head]

SAM: [distracted, picking up the phone and speaking basically to himself] Yeah, I’m on it.

EILEEN starts packing everything and SAM jumps to his feet. They leave the motel room, [the shot continues from inside the room, showing them closing the door behind them.]

DEAN has finished putting branches over the Impala to hide it and is starting to walk down the trail. As he leaves, shot cuts to DEAN’S PHONE, sitting on the front seat, with his knife beside it.

DEAN walks through the woods, which are dark, crashing into things, scratching his arm on some brambles.

DEAN: son of a bitch!

Then DEAN stumbles out of the woods and sees a small field, with a barn in it. He walks toward it, interested and wary, and creaks open the door.

The moonlight is bright, but DEAN flicks his lighter open, and in the patches of brighter light, casting shadows on the walls, you can see numerous sigils spray painted on the walls. It looks like the barn where he first met Cas all those years ago.

DEAN walks further inside and trips over some farming tools. His lighter falls out of his hand and, fortunately, closes. Now it’s just moonlight again. DEAN pulls himself to a sitting position on a bale of hay.

DEAN: All right, Cas. I’m here. What now? [pauses. No answer. DEAN laughs self-depreciatingly, and then puts his head in his hands] Cas, man, I’m trying. I’m trying to be… to be the person you saw in me. [his voice gets choked up] to keep living for you… but I can’t. I need you. [silence. Long, resounding, and empty.]

DEAN takes a shuddering breath, leans his head up from his hands and you see that he’s been crying.

DEAN: Fine. You want the truth? I don’t need you. I’ll survive… hell, I’ve done it before. But I don’t freaking want to. [a pause. DEAN looks almost surprised at his own words. Then, as though admitting something that is hard to say, even to an empty barn:] I want you here, Cas.

All of a sudden, something in the barn is moving. A space of blackness that is darker than the night shadows, and more gooey. It gets bigger and forms itself into a DOORWAY into the Empty. Dean stands up, steps toward it, and stops at the threshold. He reaches his hand through the doorway, and pulls it back. His hand is fine. Then he looks around in his pockets, and there’s a quick cut to DEAN’S PHONE sitting on the front seat of the Impala, with his knife next to it.

DEAN: ...Shit. [DEAN looks at the doorway to the Empty as though considering doing something very, very stupid. Then he steps through]

CUT TO SAM and EILEEN at the IMPALA, they’ve found the phone and start to run along the path through the trees, EILEEN has her gun out, SAM has a flashlight.

In the empty. It’s dark. At first DEAN wanders through darkness and silence, and then he hears cries of pain. As he comes closer, he sees CAS curled up on the “ground” with Meg!Empty torturing him.

DEAN: [rushing forward] You get your hands off him, you bitch!

THE EMPTY: Dean Winchester? [surprised, but recovering quickly] Who are you to give me orders.

DEAN: [with a cocky attitude, glancing at CAS, and obviously speaking to him, and not THE EMPTY] I’m the one who’s going to grip you tight and save you from perdition.

CAS stands up, looking tired, and worried. He glances between DEAN and THE EMPTY.

THE EMPTY: [laughs] You can’t save him. Cas and I made a deal. Fair and square. His happiness brought him here and I’m never letting him go again.

DEAN: Oh yeah? And that’s how you get your kicks, is that it? Torturing people? You can’t stand how alone you are and you take it out on everyone else. Man I get that but you, you’re on a whole other level. Not caring about anyone else, you’re just… just... just empty !

THE EMPTY: I want to sleep! I’m tired!

DEAN: [looking at the EMPTY for a moment, realizing] No one’s ever given a shit about you, have they.

THE EMPTY looks furious.

DEAN: God screwed you over. Billie—Well, Billie said she’d help you fall asleep, but let’s face it, she didn’t even have a clue how to begin.

THE EMPTY: [hysterically] So I’ll stay awake forever, then! And so will everyone else!

DEAN: It doesn’t have to be that way.

THE EMPTY: You can’t save me. You’re just a hunter who got lucky… God’s little pet…

DEAN: You’re right. I’m nobody special. [steps forward, looks her in the eyes] But I’m willing to try.

CUT TO SAM and EILEEN. They are now in the barn. SAM sees the portal to the EMPTY, which is closing, and notices DEAN’s lighter on the ground and puts two and two together.

SAM: [into the empty] Dean! [turns back to look at EILEEN.] The portal’s closing—Dean’s on the other side. He’s not going to make it back.

EILEEN: [speaking only, still holding her gun] Can you keep it open?

SAM: You’d have to be a powerful witch to pull off a spell like that. I mean, I have some idea… Maybe, for a few minutes… [he’s started considering] But I can’t do it, without focal points, ingredients… there won’t be enough power…

EILEEN: [puts down her gun and holds out her hand] I trust you. We’ll make it. Together. [SAM stares at her, surprised, and grateful, and overwhelmed. He takes her hand and faces the portal. The shot shows the two of them from the back, the portal before them: Sam standing centered, EILEEN to his left. Then he turns his head as though noticing someone. Close up shot of ROWENA, in the pink dress. She smiles at him, and close up shot, puts her hand in his other hand. Back to wide shot, it’s just SAM and EILEEN again, but you get the idea that ROWENA is there in spirit. SAM starts to speak a spell.

CUT back to the Empty. THE EMPTY is lying on the “ground” looking uncomfortable. Cas is kneeling on one side of her, DEAN on the other.

THE EMPTY: How is this supposed to work?

DEAN: Uh… [embarrassed laugh; looks desperately at CAS, hisses] what should I do?

CAS: [exasperated] This was your idea!

DEAN: [annoyed] Sorry, I haven’t exactly been tucked in since I was four!

THE EMPTY starts to get up.

DEAN: Wait, wait! [everyone looks at him. Dean, rambling, continues] Uh, you know, my mother… she used to, uh… [laughs nervously] she used to say angels were watching over me. [Glances at Cas shyly, then away. Clears his throat.] And sometimes, she… she’d sing me a lullaby.

[sings, thready and uncertain] Carry on my wayward son… [looks from Cas to the Empty and his voice gets firmer, more confident. He continues, acapella] There’ll be peace when you are done… lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more. [by now his voice is strong and steady, and he’s gotten into the swing of it]

CUT TO SAM and EILEEN on the other side of the portal. You can see that SAM is still speaking, there’s the sound of thunder, and hear the words of the spell, overlaid with DEAN’S voice, still singing:

Once I Rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion, I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high… [as the shot focuses on SAM’s face, speaking the spell, looking powerful and confident]

CUT back to the empty, DEAN is singing and looking at CAS:

Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man, though my mind could think I still was a mad man, I hear the voices when I’m dreaming, I can hear them say [DEAN is now stroking THE EMPTY’S hair, THE EMPTY looks relaxed, quiet, and her eyes are fluttering shut]...

The SONG starts up in actuality for the chorus,

Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done, lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more.

As the chorus plays, DEAN and CAS stand up, and walk away from the now sleeping EMPTY. They hold hands and step forward—

And tumble out into the barn, where there’s a final crash of thunder and the song cuts out, and the portal closes.

SAM: Dean? [runs forward, hugs him] Cas! [All four of them embrace, then SAM and EILEEN step back. SAM is crying but looks happy.

DEAN: [turning to CAS] I told you something, before I went into the Empty. Did you hear it?

CAS: No.

DEAN: I don’t need you.

CAS looks shocked, betrayed, but then resigned, tries to look like it doesn’t bother him

DEAN continues: but I want you. I want you here, Cas. With me. Please tell me you’ll stay. [He steps forward, uncertain, and CAS, with a blinding smile, says]

CAS: Of course I will. As long as you want me to. [he takes DEAN’S hand carefully and DEAN pulls him into a hug again, and then, looking into his eyes, puts both hands to the side of Cas’s head as he speaks]

DEAN: I want you to stay until I die. No matter what damn curses we have to deal with. What monsters. Or how bad it gets. Or… even if things are fine. Even when there’s nothing to do, even when we don’t need you… I want you to stay through all the boring, everyday crap…

CAS: [laughing and crying] Dean, yes. Yes, of course.

SAM: I now pronounce you man and angel.

DEAN: [looking over, half laughing and still overjoyed] shut up.

SAM: I don’t know dude, you kind of married him. [SAM looks at EILEEN, who has been watching, and repeats himself in sign language. EILEEN laughs.]

DEAN: [defensively blustering] No I didn’t.

ELEEN: [speaking and signing] Yeah. You kind of did.

DEAN: [at a loss for words, looks at CAS, who shrugs] Fine. Then… [obviously making his mind up on a whim, he leans close to CAS’s face and whispers] If you don’t want me to do this, just say no and I’ll forget all about it.

CAS: I told you yes and I’ll tell you until the day you—

DEAN: [kisses Cas, slow and sweet, and Cas reaches up to hold him. Then Dean breaks the kiss. He’s breathing heavily, mostly out of nerves, and can’t meet anyone’s eyes, but he says,]

DEAN: There. Now it’s official.

CUT TO exterior. Everyone is sitting on the hood of the Impala. SAM is opening a beer and offers one to DEAN, who shakes his head

DEAN: Nah, I think I already had enough of those tonight. [He is sitting in Cas’s lap and looks perfectly happy, and Cas is holding him like he’s never going to let go. Eileen is sitting next to SAM and she and SAM clink their beer bottles together.

Turns into a small montage [no sound] of them all talking and laughing. First from afar, then close up shots. But as it shows the close up shots, you see Jack sitting with them. It seems that they almost “feel” him. Farther out shot again, Jack is still there. At the same time, the song starts playing again:

Masquerading as a man with a reason

My charade is the event of the season

And if I claim to be a wise man, well It surely means that I don't know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion

Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean

I set a course for winds of fortune

But I hear the voices say… [song ducks but continues playing, skipping the chorus and playing THIS under the next bit instead:

Carry on, you will always remember

Carry on, nothing equals the splendor

Now your life's no longer empty

Surely heaven waits for you

JACK: [quietly, smiling] I love you. All of you.

SAM: [turning his head, as though noticing something] Did any of you feel something? A presence?

DEAN: Oh, come on. I don’t need any more ghost crap tonight.

SAM: no, not a spirit, just… a presence. It felt familiar. It felt like…

CAS: [quietly, knowingly, meeting Sam’s eyes] like family.

Song is at… “surely heaven waits for you” which is audible, and then:

FADE TO BLACK

Then, the very last chorus and the song ends, over black.

[on ao3]

#supernatural #destiel #sam/eileen #my stuff #my fic

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good-things-do-happen-dean · 4 years

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all that matters is the light in you and i | denny | 2.3K | based on that ty olsson cameo because i will never stop thinking about it...

***

Since it happened, Dean’s been having trouble sleeping. It doesn’t make much sense, really, since everything is over now. There’s no Chuck anymore, just a bunch of humans trying to figure out what the hell happens next. Maybe nothing, maybe everything, but probably anything, which could be why he can’t sleep.

Dean takes to wandering around the Bunker at night when the walls of his room start closing in. He and Sam explored when they moved in here, a little, enough to find the bedrooms, the bathroom, the kitchen. Then there were the storerooms and the dungeon and the server room. But the place is friggin’ huge and they just never got around to it, or they never had the chance to get around to it.

One of those nights, Dean’s coming back through the library. He just discovered the attic, which you can only get to by climbing up about a million stairs, with the added bonus of having to go back down them too. But all the stairs wore him out, so that’s okay. Maybe he’ll actually catch a few hours of bone-tired shut-eye, then Sam can have a field day sorting through all the shit up there tomorrow.

He almost doesn’t notice the message light blinking on one of the old phones they’ve got charging all the time in, what Jack calls, the Bridge. (The kid just discovered that there’s about a million versions and episodes of Star Trek). It’s really just a table and chair with an extension cord and all their old phones (and some of Bobby’s) in the back corner of the library. No one’s been back here in a while, or at least Dean hasn’t. They haven’t had any reason to. Things have calmed down, way down, since it happened.

The phone that’s blinking isn’t labeled, and he doesn’t recognize the number that pops up in the missed calls log from a few weeks ago. Still, might as well listen to the voicemail while he’s here.

“Hello, Dean,” Benny says, and the phone slips out of Dean’s hand and cracks against the floor.

“Fuck!” Dean grabs for it, praying to nothing, to everything, that it isn’t broken. His hands are shaking so badly he nearly drops the phone again. The screen is shattered in one corner, cracks spider webbing out from there, and he feels it nick his cheek just next to his ear. But Benny’s voice is still playing from the speaker, rich and low, lower than Dean remembers.

“- picked a fight with God -”

Dean starts the message over with trembling fingers. This is a trick. It has to be. A shapeshifter that’s still running around, or a crocotta maybe, hell, even a siren. Or it’s just Dean hallucinating from lack of sleep. It isn’t real because it can’t be. Because this is just the brand of fucked up figment that comes from Dean’s fucked up imagination.

“Hello, Dean. Been a while. The rumors of my early demise have been greatly exaggerated.”

He thinks of Purgatory and that Leviathan. His heart dropping like a stone and the ticking clock that left him with no time to breathe, let alone grieve, for days, for weeks, until it was over and that was the only thing left to do.

“I ain’t never seen a dogfight you couldn’t win. Go give ‘em hell, brother. I miss you buddy.”

The message ends, but all Dean can hear is “I’m topside again” on a loop, the low rumble of Benny’s chuckle.

“I’m sleepwalking,” Dean says to nobody, to the empty library in the middle of the night. “I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming.” His voice shakes as badly as his hands as he presses redial. He scrubs a hand down his face as it rings, and realizes he’s crying. “It’s gonna ring out,” he whispers, not knowing if he wants it to or not, not knowing which would hurt less.

“Hey, chief.”

***

Dean is nearly to Wichita by the time he realizes he’s not wearing any shoes. He’s never driven barefoot before in his life (it would be an insult to Baby, to all other cars, and to every human with sense), but hell if he didn’t tear out of the bunker like someone lit a fire under his ass.

Benny, what might be Benny, what’s probably Benny, is driving up from New Orleans to meet him outside of Fort Worth. Eight hours on the road, three of them gone already and he’s just now realizing he’s in his socks. The sun is peeking out over the horizon, painting the sky in pinks and oranges and golds as he flies along the highway that’s nearly empty this early in the morning. Dean Winchester will drive without shoes on when Hell freezes over, he thinks wildly and laughs out of his open window.

Sam calls an hour or so later, after Dean has gone through a drive-thru for coffee that he hasn’t touched. He’s running on no sleep, but he’s wired and shaky as it is. The coffee that’s turning tepid perched between his knees would probably make things worse.

“Where are you?” Sam says by way of a greeting.

“Just crossed into Oklahoma.”

“What - Oklahoma? Dean, what the hell?”

Dean zips by an eighteen-wheeler. There are more cars out on the road now, but it’s still mostly just open road. Four hours of open road between him and Benny. Less if traffic stays like this.

“We woke up and you were gone, Dean. Why are you going to Oklahoma?”

“Not going to Oklahoma, Sammy.” Dean puts the call on speaker and tosses his phone onto the bench seat so he can drum his fingers against the steering wheel. He’s buzzing with energy or nerves or both. “Do you know, are there any shoes in the trunk?”

“Shoes?” He can just hear Sam pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Dean. Where are you going?”

“Fort Worth.”

“What’s in Fort Worth? You catch a case or something?”

Dean is quiet for a moment, passing another eighteen-wheeler. If he tells Sam he’s hauling six hundred miles worth of ass because something that probably isn’t but might be Benny left him a voicemail three weeks ago, they’ll fight. “You won’t like it.”

“Dean, you better tell me what the hell is going on. Right now. You think I don’t know something’s up with you?”

“It’s -” Dean sighs, lifts his eyes to the sky that’s brightening into clear blue, sunny and cloudless as far as he can see. “Look, Sam -”

“Don’t ‘look, Sam’ me - “

“Fine, okay,” Dean says. Lukewarm coffee sloshes over the lid of the coffee cup perched between his knees. “It’s Benny.”

On the other end of the line, Sam is quiet. “Dean,” he says quietly, and there’s pity there. “You know Benny’s - I mean, it’s been years.”

“I know.” Dean steps on the gas, like it will speed this conversation up. “Man, I know, okay? He - I got a call, a voicemail, a few weeks ago, but I didn’t see it until last night with...you know. Everything. I’m not stupid, Sam. I’ll be careful, but I can’t - I have to -” He bites at his lip, thinking of a brightly-painted alley, of a forest in Maine at night, of an unmarked grave. He thinks of scrubbing blood out of the trunk, and of biting into his lip so hard new blood mingles with what he’s trying to scrub out. Of cranking up the radio loud enough that it echoed through the garage and he could choke out a sob without Sam hearing. “I just need to see if it’s him.”

“Okay,” Sam says finally. “Okay, but Dean, let me meet you there. Or Cas. You shouldn’t be alone, you know, in case…”

In case it isn’t Benny. In case it’s some monster, or some other monster, or the monster is actually Dean’s lack of sleep or his grief, or it’s just him and he’s finally cracked. “No,” Dean says. “I mean it, Sam, no. I need to see if it’s him, and I need to do it on my own.”

“Dean -”

“I’ll call you, if - I’ll call you.” Dean reaches over and hangs up before Sam can protest anymore.

***

They don’t end up meeting in Fort Worth. Having too many people around makes Dean itchy under his skin, in his bones, and Fort Worth is crawling with them. They end up meeting in Crowley, of all places, just outside of it anyway.

Dean gets there first, probably because he took the last hundred miles at least twenty over. There aren’t any shoes in the trunk after all, so he just stands there in his socks on the side of a dusty road, fiddling with the silver knife and the flask of holy water, leaning against the hood, then the trunk, then the driver’s side door, then sliding back behind the wheel. He realizes too late that he’s tracking dirt onto the floor and gets back out. He pours the rest of his untouched coffee out into the grass.

A crappy old truck pulls up after twenty minutes or so, not as crappy as the one Benny used to drive, but crappy and old all the same.

And there’s Benny, who smiles slow and bright as he approaches. He’s got his cap pulled down low over his eyes, but they’re alight with life. “Hey, brother,” Benny says, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

“You know I’ve gotta -” Dean’s voice shakes and he swallows, gesturing with the flask.

“I know.”

Except then Dean actually has to do it, has to walk over to Benny and hold his arm steady while he -

“Dean,” Benny says, reaching towards him. He almost takes Dean’s hand to steady it but stops just short, which is probably for the best. If maybe-not-Benny were to touch him now, Dean might shatter.

"Okay." Dean watches as if from outside his own body as the silver knife slices a thin gash in Benny's forearm and a splash of holy water washes away the blood that wells up there. "Benny?" he says, heart cracking open with something like grief or relief or longing.

Benny steps forward again, but Dean puts a hand up. "My turn," he says. The cut on his arm stings in the dry air, a bead of blood dripping onto his sock.

And then it doesn't matter because Benny is taking him into his arms and it's just like Dean remembers. Benny smells like something long-forgotten, something newly remembered. Dean can feel Benny's breath on the side of his neck, the too-slow beat of Benny’s heart against his chest, where his own pulse is racing. He pulls away first, keeping a grip on Benny's shoulder to anchor himself. "How -" he starts, shaking his head.

"Where are your shoes, chief?" Benny says with a laugh and thumbs a tear from Dean’s cheek, lets his hand linger there, solid and warm in the sunlight. “And what happened here?” He runs a finger over the cut Dean had completely forgotten about in his mad rush out of the Bunker last night. Early this morning. Whatever.

Dean just shakes his head against Benny’s hand, unable to get the words out. I dropped everything and ran. I can’t believe you’re real. I missed you. I need you. I -

“How are you here?” he says instead, lifting a shaking hand to grip Benny’s wrist before he loses his nerve.

Benny shrugs and strokes over the shell of Dean’s ear with the pad of his thumb, which makes Dean go a little weak at the knees. “Figure it’s because of the big fight. I ain’t complaining, though.” He looks Dean square in the face, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “I missed you, brother.”

“Yeah?” Dean lets his breath out in a rush.

“Yeah.”

Dean rocks forward, just a little. Just enough to tip his forehead against Benny’s, nudging that stupid beautiful newsboy cap off to the side. He’s still holding onto Benny’s wrist, but he slides his other hand to curl into the short hair at the nape of Benny’s neck. He lets his eyes close. This is safe. Here, he’s safe and grounded, missed and forgiven and loved. Benny breathes slow and even, and Dean finally does too. In, out. In, out. Dean opens his eyes to see Benny gazing at him, full of wonder.

“I wasn’t sure if - it’s been a long time,” Benny says, choosing his words carefully, staying firmly in Dean’s space. Or maybe it’s Dean, crowding up against him, unwilling to let go for fear of waking up or floating away entirely.

“Too long,” Dean says. “Too damn long.” His gaze flicks to Benny’s mouth like it has a hundred times before, a thousand, too many times to count, really. Except it feels new. It feels tenuous and fragile with all the time lost between them.

Benny moves in slowly, brushing Dean’s nose with his own, stopping when they’re only a breath apart for one agonizing moment. He runs his thumb up and over the cut on Dean’s cheek, his ear, and Dean shakes from the tenderness of it. “Je t’aime, cher,” Benny whispers into the space between them.

They meet in the middle and it’s gentle and sweet and everything Dean remembered, except better because God is dead and they can have this for the rest of their lives, if they want. They can have this, and this, and this, and Dean breaks away with a laugh even as Benny wipes another tear from his cheek. “I love you,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world because here, now, standing in his stupid socks in a patch of gravel on the side of a road outside Crowley, Texas with their future, his and Benny’s, as wide open as the bright blue sky stretching out above them, it is.

let me know if you want to be added/removed/only tagged for specific things! 💖

#title from wide open sky by the well pennies #i just......love them..........#let them be in LOVE #mine.fic #denny

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heller-a-good-time · 3 years

Text

HERES THE MINI FIX-IT FIC IVE BEEN WRITING ALL WEEK! HAD TO GET IT OUT BEFORE THE FINALE TONIGHT SO ENJOY

This was the tenth night in a row that Dean wandered around the bunker completely wasted. He would stumble into bookshelves and chairs and inevitably, more booze, while his entire world seemed to spin and a goofy smile was plastered on his face. It was the only time he felt like he was able to smile.

Sam would always be asleep, or on a late night date with Eileen. Whenever he came back he’d find Dean in his drunken state and try to encourage him to stop drinking for the night. He would usually fail and then decide to leave him be.

Because he knows.

Dean never took all the times Cas was presumably dead very well. In fact, every time it had happened, it wasn’t pretty. But Dean had never been like this. Seemingly so broken that it was impossible to put the pieces back together again. It was different this time.

Dean couldn’t deal with the world sober anymore. He’d tried.

Everytime he did, he’d hear Cas’s speech ringing in his ears. When he closed his eyes he could still see his angel’s smiling face. After finally confessing his love.

And then the regret would shortly follow.

Because Dean couldn’t help himself but think that Cas was gone because of him. He wanted to go after Billie. He led them into that room with no escape plan. He was Cas’s true happiness.

And then after those thoughts would cement themselves into his brain for the evening, he would get rid of him in the most effective way he knew how. He would drink. He wouldn’t just drink until he was dizzy and euphoric, he would drink until everything went black and he couldn’t feel anything.

Because even through all the clumsiness and the giggling, he could still hear his voice.

I love you.

Just like all the other nights, Dean could still hear him. He reached for a new bottle of scotch off their shelf in the map room before falling into a chair with a glass already in hand.

He poured himself a refill, almost missing the glass completely. His limbs felt like Jello and the room wouldn’t stay still long enough for him to focus. But eventually he got enough whiskey into his glass.

As he took his first sip of his new drink, he made the mistake of letting his eyes wander down. He looked down at the table he was sitting at and he read the name Castiel over and over again.

Carving his name into the table with the rest of his family’s initials was the first thing he did when he returned to the bunker. He refused to let himself relax with a beer in his hand until he completed that task.

Because even while he was fighting Chuck—the person he’d been hellbent on killing for months, he couldn’t stop thinking about Cas.

But now when he looked down and saw his name everytime he sat at this table, it felt like it was mocking him. It just felt like a glaring reminder of who he couldn’t save.

Goodbye, Dean.

Dean took another sip of his whiskey. He could feel his burdening thoughts only getting louder. He hated himself for looking down at this damn table.

He pushed his glass to the side and closed his eyes. He laced his fingers together and propped them up on his elbows. A tear slipped down his face.

His voice was harsh and weak as he babbled into the void for no one to hear, “C-Cas.....Cas please.....I need you.....You’re my best friend......You’re family.” His lip quivered as he started to break down. He knew that wasn’t what he should say to him. But the one thing he wanted to say felt like it was trapped on his tongue. He’d suppressed himself from saying it all these years to the point where he felt like even when Cas wasn’t there and it was now known to Dean that his love was requited, he still couldn’t say it. He could only say everything else that he used as a replacement for that three letter sentence.

By now Dean was crying and covering his eyes with his hands. Little gasps escaped his lips in between his attempt to continue praying to the angel.

“Cas....Cas.....Please......Please come home.” He sobbed. He then got to overwhelmed to keep going.

He desperately reached for his glass and downed the rest of the whiskey. He knew now that he really needed to black out tonight. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to stop crying.

He let his head sink all the way down. His cheek laid against the wood and his arms were sprawled out on either side of him. His tears slowly rolled down his face and left wet spots on the table.

He didn’t even have the strength to get up to refill his glass. He didn’t even have the strength to calm himself down. He had given up on getting himself drunk enough to make him numb. Instead, he was feeling everything a little too intensely.

Probably because he just kept trying to push it down. And now it was starting to rise to the surface and he didn’t know how to cope with it.

He’d stayed in a state of shock for longer than he expected. The crippling sadness had started to settle in the first night while they were researching a plan on how to kill Chuck. But he’d grabbed the alcohol early enough that his emotions couldn’t overpower him in time.

But then it finally hit him the following night.

When him and Sam were supposed to be celebrating, Dean felt like he wanted to throw himself off the top floor of a building. He didn’t let Sam see him break down though. At least, not at first. But after ten straight days of his favorite coping mechanism failing him, Sam witnessed some tears here and there. He’d tried to comfort him. But he knew there was nothing he could really do to fix him.

Dean stayed motionless as he silently cried against the table for he doesn’t know how long. It felt like hours.

The only thing that snapped him out of it was the whooshing sound of wings behind him.

It made Dean let out a loud gasp but he knew he had to be drunk. The alcohol in his veins had to be making him image things.

He felt a hand placed on his left shoulder.

“Dean.”

No. It can’t be.

He lifted his head slowly before looking over his shoulder. When he saw a tan trench coat he immediately stumbled out of his chair before failing to stand on his own and falling to the floor, the chair he was sitting on tipped over in the process.

When Castiel bent down to help him up and his piercing blue eyes stared into his, Dean couldn’t breathe. His mouth just hung open as he looked back at him.

He was here. Standing in front of him. His angel. Without a scratch on him. He still looked as beautiful as he always did. And Dean wanted so hard to not trust it. But every fiber in his being wanted to believe he was really standing in front of him right now.

Cas tried propping Dean against the table but it was no use. Dean was already practically launching himself into him, hugging him. His tears had transitioned from sadness into pure joy. His crying got so intense that he was gasping for air and his vision was too blurry to see.

He hugged Cas as tightly as he possibly could. Almost as if he was terrified he’d disappear again if he didn’t.

At some point he felt Cas hug him back—more gentle considering Dean was practically struggling to breathe.

They stayed in the embrace for several minutes as Dean silently cried into Cas’s shoulder, staining the fabric of his trench coat. All Cas could do was hold him and smile. He’d missed him. They’d missed each other.

Dean turned his head to the side as he had just begun to compose himself, “Cas.....Cas is this really you?”

Now it was the angel starting to get emotional as he answered, “Yes. I promise you, It’s really me.” His voice cracked in a way that Dean had only heard once before as he was saying goodbye to him for what they had thought would be forever.

Dean’s mind was flooded with so many questions that he was too baffled to even speak coherently, “H-How did you.....Why is this...”

Cas finally pulled away from the hug because he wanted to look at him again. When he saw Dean’s tear stained face, his smile grew. He couldn’t believe he was home. He couldn’t believe he had Dean back. He then realized Dean was kept in suspense waiting for his explanation. He cleared his throat and tried to answer him as composed as he could, “The empty.....it’s loud now. All the angels awoke and rivaled against her and eventually got so desperate for sleep....she set us free. I-I woke up in a random field and had been trying to find my way back, and I....I heard your prayers.”

Dean watched a tear actually stream down Cas’s face. It immediately prompted him to pull him into another quick hug. He knew he had to cut it short otherwise Dean would probably never let go of him ever again.

At some point while they were both trying to contain their crying, the realization that Dean had heard the sound of wings, which had almost become unfamiliar to him at this point, made him gasp again like he did when he heard them ten minutes ago, “Wait a second, you have—“

“My wings. They’re back.” Cas continued to flash Dean the widest smile he’d ever seen in his entire life.

He knew how badly Cas had missed them. And hell, he’d earned them.

The two things Cas wanted had been returned to him.

Dean nodded and felt like he could talk to him now without bursting into tears, “That probably has something to do with Jack being the new boss.”

Cas got excited just by the mention of his name, “That was the first thing I heard over angel radio when I returned......You did it. You beat him.” His good mood seemed to be dampened a little as he looked down, “I should have been here to help.”

Dean almost scoffed at his self pity, “Cas....I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you.” He looked over at the table at his empty whiskey glass and suddenly noticed how sober he felt. Dean was just plastered and sobbing his eyes out on the table but when his angel returned to him all of his senses went on high alert. The room wasn’t even spinning anymore.

They both felt air settle in between them after the mentioning of Cas’s sacrifice. Dean couldn’t help but replay the moment in his head over and over like he’d been doing for the last ten days. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he should have told him. He wanted to tell him the three words he’d been dying to say for so long, but he knew if he said them in that moment, Cas only would’ve disappeared faster. So all he could do was stand there, frozen in shock as he realized he was losing the most important person in his life.

Cas sensed the tension that was building due to the silence, “We don’t have to talk about it.” He looked down again, seeming a little sadder than he was before. Clearly he’d never expected to face Dean again after his confession. And now he was terrified of rejection. So he figured it would be best if both of them forgot it happened.

But Dean couldn’t forget. He sighed and took a step closer to Cas, “No, I want to talk about it.” The way Cas looked at him in surprise made Dean’s stomach do flips. He reminded himself he needed to keep going. He kept eye contact with his angel as he spoke, “Cas there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a very long time.”

Cas tried to silence him, “Dean it’s okay, you don’t have to say it.” He knew either way whatever he told him would be potentially bad. He feared rejection. But he feared the other possibility even more. He was terrified if he heard those words from the man he loved, he’d feel truly happy again. He was scared of going back. He couldn’t watch himself get dragged away from Dean for a second time.

But Dean didn’t listen, “Actually I do. Because I learned from losing you that I can’t be gutless and in denial anymore. Not with you, at least. Because I didn’t realize how little time left I had to say it. And I’ve blown all my other chances to say it.”

All these years Dean had wanted to. Sometimes he actually convinced himself to do it. But then as the words came out of his mouth, they weren’t what he had in mind. It was always, You’re family or You’re my best friend or I need you or I missed you, buddy. And he felt stupid every single time it happened.

He saw the worried look of Cas’s face and he suddenly realized why he didn’t want to hear it, Dean sighed and took another step closer to him, “Cas, I don’t know if this makes me selfish. But I’m willing to lose you again just so I can finally tell you.”

Cas grew teary eyed again. This was something he’d waited over a decade to hear, “Then say it.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment as he felt all the walls he’d built up over the years fall. He’d tried so hard to just look at Castiel, the angel, as his best friend. But he couldn’t. He was so much more than that. He always had been.

He opened his eyes again and noticed Cas had taken a step closer to him. They were a mere inch away from each other. He let the angel’s blue eyes pierce into his soul as he stared deep into them, “I love you too.”

The weight of the words immediately came crashing down on him. But he didn’t have enough time to emotionally deal with it because Cas was already kissing him. Desperate and passionate.

Butterflies exploded in Dean’s stomach. He could barely even catch his breath. This was happening. His angel was kissing him.

He wasted no time kissing Cas back, smiling against his lips as he did it. He’d waited so long.

Both of their eyes fell closed as they melted into the kiss. Dean placed his hands against Cas’s cheeks while Cas held onto Dean’s hips. They moved even closer until there was absolutely no space between them. Their lips moved in perfect harmony and it felt as though they were each other’s missing pieces.

Dean’s head was swimming in euphoria and his heart couldn’t stop racing. He’d kissed plenty of people in his life. More than plenty. But he’d never been kissed like this. So lovingly.

And now that he knew what it felt like, he never wanted anything but this ever again. Kissing the person he loved was way better than he ever would have imagined.

Cas completely caught him off guard when he pushed Dean down onto the table, finally causing them to break away from the kiss. He landed on his back as his eyes widened at the angel who was currently in the process of climbing on top of him. His knees were planted on either side of Dean’s hips and Dean laid in between them.

Dean assumed Cas would lean back into him and reconnect their lips, but instead he let his hands travel up Dean’s chest before finding his shoulders and grasping at the material of his flannel. For the next thirty seconds they worked together clumsily shrugging it off of him.

As Cas took the now discarded flannel from Dean’s hands to toss it aside, his eyes landed on something on the table.

And within a few seconds, Castiel was close to tears again.

This prompted Dean to sit up and look at Cas slightly confused but nonetheless concerned, “What’s wrong?”

Dean proceeded to follow his gaze when he didn’t respond. And he realized Cas was looking at his own name carved into the table.

Dean stared at the name for awhile before giving a sad smile and eventually saying something, “It just didn’t feel right not being there.” His voice came out soft.

Cas blinked away his tears and nodded. He then did lean into Dean that time and give him peck on the lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

(This will probably be up on AO3 too when I get a sec)

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winchest09 · 5 years

Text

Shatter Me - Chapter Nine

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5962

Summary: The Winchesters were your world. After joining their hunter ranks, you quickly became attached to the brothers. After a successful hunt, you insist on going out celebrating with the boys – only for a loose end to catch up with you. You’re trapped in a world without hunger, thirst and the Winchesters. With the brothers beside themselves, they make preparations to say goodbye until Dean starts to connect to you through his dreams. Little do they know that you’re much closer than they think…

Chapter warnings: 18+, Angst. All the angst. Flangst? Swearing. Self hatred. Fluff.

A/N: Here be Chapter 9! It’s a long one and it’s an eventful one. So i do hope you enjoy it! Thank you for reading my darlings <3

If you do read, please let me know your thoughts! Comments are amazing, reblogs are delightful! Let me know your reactions, through words or gifs! It makes it all worthwhile :)

Love all of you guys <3

Also any mistakes are my own, please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :)

Shatter Me Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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You wrapped your arms tighter around your body as you strode through the snow, marching past Sam to reach Castiel. Sam smiled at you slightly with sincerity, his hands in his pockets but you couldn’t return it, your blood was boiling with anger and the last thing you needed was Sam trying to play mediator between you and Dean. So you continued on past him, heading to show Cas the barrier and to get as far away from the green eyed Winchester as possible.

As you got to Castiel’s side, you huffed and kicked some snow off your tip of your boot. You saw how Castiel frowned slightly, his head dipping to study your face “Everything…ok?” He questioned, the words rolling off his tongue.

“Apart from being stuck in an unknown place with an unknown curse cracking my skin? Yeah perfect” You grunted, kicking at the snow on the floor. You noticed how Castiel turned awkwardly, not knowing how to responded and you immediately felt a wave of guilt wash over you “Sorry Cas, I’m just stressed. Didn’t mean to take it out on you” You explained softly, your hand going to his arm.

“It’s ok Y/N. I’m sure you’re finding this situation difficult” Castiel replied, a slight smile on his lips.

“Yeah” You sighed, briefly looking behind you to see Dean and Sam in a heated conversation “You have no idea”

Dean watched as you stormed ahead, his eyes landing on those of his brothers who held a concerned look and he knew that he had probably seen the exchange between you and him. He rolled his eyes as he continued forward towards his brother, knowing exactly what was to come.

As Dean caught up to his brother, Sam matched Dean’s strides, his hands motioning towards you in his pockets “What was that about?” He questioned

“What?” Dean snapped, not bothering to look at Sam.

Sam sighed “Dean, come on. I’m not deaf or blind. She just nearly took your head off”

“She’s just frustrated being in here Sammy and she’s taking it out on me” The eldest Winchester swallowed hard, hoping his excuse would be believable. Looking up at Sam though, he saw how his little brothers eyebrows were raised, Dean had to elaborate and fast “Oh come on, wouldn’t you be? Locked off from everything and everyone you know?”

“I…guess” Sam said slowly, bringing his raised eyebrows down to knit together.

Clearing his throat, Dean nodded thankful that Sam believed him “Yeah, exactly so let’s just focus on the task at hand” He stated, a gruffness to his tone as he pushed forward to join you and Castiel at the barrier.

You heard the snow crunch behind you signalling that the brothers had caught up you. You just motioned further behind the treeline and made your way forward, towards the force field barrier that was keeping you prisoner. You stopped walking when you arrived at your destination, allowing the boys to walk around you for them to inspect it themselves.

Feeling the blanket hug your shoulders, you tightened your hold on the material as you watched how each of the boys inspected the force field. You knew exactly what they were doing, you’d already done the exact same. There were looking for weak points, breaks, anything that could give away what it was exactly. You let your eyes wander over to Dean every now and again, watching how he held himself. His shoulders were tight, his face stoic, he was focusing on the task at hand and nothing else. He hadn’t glanced over at you once and you shook your head at the thought. You didn’t want to hold a grudge, you didn’t want to be angry with this man as he was your best friend. You just couldn’t get your head around why he would play with your feelings.

Before you could let your mind wander any further, a gruff voice broke your thoughts “I’ve never seen anything like this before. Even here, my powers are limited. But I can tell you that this force field isn’t one that I’ve seen before. There’s nothing beyond this border” Cas mused, his gaze wandering up and down the length of the barrier that he can see.

Dean just shook his head as he made his way to his side “Cas that makes no sense. I was on the other side of that barrier”

Castiel frowned “Then it must have been a merge between our reality and this place. Your mind was still getting accustomed to this connection between yourself and Y/N” He explained as he looked between you and Dean.

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips. As you looked away from Castiel, your caught Sam’s stare and noticed him frowning. You just shook your head to play it off “Look, I just want to come home. Do you have any ideas?” You questioned urgently, desperate eyes staring into the blue ones of the angel.

Castiel just shook his head, his hand coming onto your shoulder in comfort “I’m sorry Y/N but I don’t”

You didn’t hide your disappointment, you couldn’t. You were desperate to get home, get back to the bunker and to just sleep in your own bed. Sam noticed how the little bit of hope you had dissipated upon hearing Castiel’s words and it killed him. He stooped down a little, making his tall stature shorter so he can look into your eyes, hoping to provide some comfort “Seeing this though has helped more than you know. We’ve taken in what we can and we are not going to stop until your home” Sam explained, his voice soft before he pulled you in for a hug.

You relished the warmth from the hug Sam was giving you, his tall frame perfect for you to envelop yourself in. That in itself gave yourself some comfort in this harrowing time. Pulling away, you smiled at him and Cas “Thanks guys”

You saw Dean out of the corner of your eye edge forward towards you, his own hands burrowed in his pockets. “No more time wasting, Y/N. We promise. We’ll get you home” His deep voice sounded in the silence.

You didn’t look at him, you didn’t want to acknowledge his comment. You felt yourself getting angry again. Asking yourself what did he meant when he says no more time wasting? Was that directed at you and what happened between you and him?

“Right” You replied, still not looking his way but choosing to look at your feet instead. You tone short and sharp. You looked up towards Sam and saw the concern etched in his features and you felt your resolve break a little, his puppy dog eyes making it hard for you to be angry. With a sigh, you looked between Cas and Sam, not wanting to aim your hostility towards them “I guess this is goodbye for now then?” You spoke softer than before.

The boys lined themselves up in front of you, Sam still reassuring you “We’ll fix this Y/N. I sort of miss your so called singing around the bunker. It’s too quiet” He jested, nudging your shoulder slightly.

“Hey! I have a voice of an angel and you know it” You chided, a small smile on your lips at his jest. You stepped forward to give him another hug “See you soon Sammy”

Pulling back, you moved to your right to where Castiel was standing hands at his sides “Cas, behave yourself” You said before giving him a quick hug.

“I don’t understand, I always behave” Castiel stated, looking down at you as you pulled back from his chest

You just giggled at his straight face “Never change ok?”

You hesitated before you started to wrap yourself back into your blanket. You couldn’t bring yourself to be close to Dean so soon, feel his body on yours, his arms wrapped around you. Right now, you couldn’t even look him in the eye without the feeling of rejection eating away at your insides. With a heavy heart, you angled your body back towards the cabin, wanting to sit in front of the fire as soon as possible.

“Bye guys” You said softly as you made your way back to the cabin.

You didn’t see the hurt that flashed briefly through Dean’s eyes as you turned to walk away, knowing you weren’t going to say goodbye to him. You didn’t see how his stance changed as he itched to chase after you to sort it all out. You didn’t see how he was staring at your back until you were no longer in his sights.

As you got back to the bunker, you shut the door behind you, leant your back upon it and you let out a sob. Your hand covered your mouth to try and muffle the noise, you knew the boys had gone back to the bunker but if there was still a chance of them being here, you didn’t want them to hear you. As you looked around the cabin, your head rolling along the wood of the door, you felt helpless. You didn’t feel hopeful anymore. You didn’t feel like you were going to get the chance to go home. You didn’t feel like you were going to have you happy ending.

In the bunker, Castiel had started to help the boys disconnect themselves from the mind link device. Dean batted the angel’s hands away when he stepped over to help him, wanting to do it himself. Sam noted Dean’s expression, how his mood had shifted considerably and frowned, he knew the conversation between the pair of you was more than just the stress of you being trapped.

“Hey Dean, here’s a question” Sam said as he stood from his chair in the library “How is it that you’ve managed to piss Y/N off when she’s not even here?”

Dean let out an aggravated growl under his breath, rubbing his hand at his brow in annoyance “Shut up alright?” He snapped at Sam as he moved away from the library, aiming to grab a whisky from the kitchen.

His steps faltered however when Rowena came hustling into the room, her eyes frantic “Boys!” She huffed, trying to catch her breath “Follow me, now!” She demanded, her accent strong.

All three of the men quickly followed Rowena down the halls of the bunker, straight to your room. Each of them having concern written all over their faces. As they entered your room, they were greeted with a frantic witch who was faffing around your bedside, lighting candles and flicking through spell books.

“What have you three idiots done?” The redhead asked urgently, looking between all three of the boys.

Dean frowned, stepping forward slightly “Excuse me?”

Rowena just huffed in frustration, gesturing to you “Whatever happened in there has had a serious effect on Y/N’s health”

“What?” Sam questioned, confusion etched into his features as he stepped forward to join Dean’s side.

The red head just shook her head, stilling her movements “Her health has started to deteriorate faster than usual. Her body isn’t fighting this”

Dean felt like someone had just repeatedly punched him in the gut, taking all of his wind out of him. Rowena’s words echoing around in his head that you weren’t fighting the curse. He felt like he was underwater, the words that were being spoken around him not really registering to him. He didn’t understand why you would stop fighting. Then your previous words resonated in his mind. Your words ‘maybe it’s not meant to be fixed’ repeating themselves over and over again.

Dean thought he’d convinced you to fight, he thought you felt safe knowing that everyone here was working on a solution to get you home. He then remembered the look on your face when he brushed you off, trying to keep you at arm’s length so he could focus on getting you home faster. Sure, he didn’t say it in the most graceful of ways but he was selfish for putting his feelings first, he put himself first over your safety and that was something that he couldn’t forgive himself for. In those moments he spent with you, he wasn’t helping the team at home who were working on the cure. He couldn’t help but think that if he was here with them, he might have picked up on the dangers of tampering with the curse. You getting trapped, you getting hurt and now you not fighting, it was all down to him.

Lifting his green, watered eyes from your body, he stared at Rowena. Hands on her hips she huffed towards Sam, clearly replying to something he had said “Well something’s changed and we need to figure it out fast if we want this wee lass to wake”

It was the last blow Dean could take. He needed you to be ok, he couldn’t lose another person he cared about because of his own actions. Not being able to take much more, Dean marched himself out of your room and into his own, resting his hands on his desk, breathing heavily. His flannel hung lose at his sides as his arm muscles tensed underneath, his fingers gripping at the edge of the wood.

He didn’t hear his door open behind him until it was being shut closed by his brother. Sam had followed him out of your room, clearly concerned about the situation. He faced the back of his brother, concern etched on his brow “What did you do Dean?”

“Nothing” Dean murmured, not wanting a lecture from his little brother. This was something he would figure out on his own.

However Sam was relentless “That was not the Y/N I know. You two were close” He stated “You’ve done or said something you shouldn’t, haven’t you?” Sam urged.

“Sammy-” Dean sighed, bowing his head. He wasn’t in the mood for this confrontation.

Sam shook his head, not willing to drop it. You were his friend too. “No Dean. I saw you two together, I saw how Y/N acted around you. So what’s happened?”

“Sam” Dean warned, his fingers gripping tighter at the desk underneath him.

“She’s losing the will to live Dean!” Sam shouted, his arm gesturing towards Dean’s door “She’s not fighting-”

“We kissed alright!” Dean exploded, turning himself around to face his little brother. Sam wore a shocked expression at his outburst as Dean’s expression was one of hurt and anger as he reiterated “I kissed her”

Hearing the fire crackle, you couldn’t help but lose yourself to your thoughts as you stared at the flames. You had stopped crying a while ago but the tear stains were still on your cheeks, you hadn’t bothered to wash them off. You didn’t see the point. You felt exhausted, your body felt drained and you just wanted to sleep yet your mind wouldn’t let you. Every time you closed your eyes, you could still feel Dean’s lips on yours. You could feel the stubble burn your cheeks and the warmth of his hands on your skin. Then you became angry all over again at how he brushed off what happened between you like it was nothing.

You knew that he only probably kissed you because he’d worked out that it helped to heal your cracks but it still hurt. You give him everything you had in that kiss. Moving your hands under your blanket, you let your fingertips trace the cracks in your arm and you felt the tears prick at your eyes once more. You really did feel like there was no point in anything anymore. You felt like you weren’t a good enough hunter, if you were, you wouldn’t have gotten caught by the witch. You would have seen the warning signs. Dean didn’t want you back the way you wanted him to and on top of that, you’d made a fool of yourself in front of him. You were starting to think that maybe things were easier this way.

You picked yourself up off the couch and headed into the bedroom, you didn’t care if you got cold at this point. You just wanted to lay down and hide your head under the covers, hoping to a higher power that you would be able to get a little bit of Dean free sleep.

Standing in Dean’s room, Sam was stunned in silence. He was trying to process what Dean had just said through his head. He didn’t know whether to be happy that he had finally admitted his feelings for you or pissed with how cold Dean was now acting.

“Y-you kissed her?!” Sam stuttered “I don’t understand Dean, how is that a bad thing?” He questioned.

Dean just sighed, bringing one hand to his forehead “I shouldn’t have Sammy”

“What do you mean you shouldn’t have?” Sam frowned, he was obviously confused. He knew that his brother had held a candle for you for as long as he could remember.

“It means what it means now can we drop it?” Dean growled in annoyance, going to turn away from Sam once again only for Sam to grab onto his arm.

“No we can’t drop it. Y/N’s losing the will to live because-”

“Yeah because of me!” Dean roared, ripping his arm out of Sam’s grasp as he turned to face him once more “I let my own damn feelings get in the way of saving her life!”

Sam was stunned at his brother’s confession, realisation suddenly hitting him when he put everything together. The reason why you were pissed at him, the reason Dean’s been so off “So let me get this straight. You kissed her, then decided it would be better to pretend that it never happened?” Sam frowned as he watched Dean walk away.

Dean poured himself a glass of whiskey, nodding into his glass “Pretty much” Dean states before taking a sip of the amber liquid he held in front of him. He just stared back at Sam, taking in his little brother’s look of disbelief.

“You’re an idiot” Sam said bluntly “You always do this Dean. You shut yourself off from everything and everyone and you don’t care who you hurt along the way!” Sam shouted, his arms flailing about to explain his points while Dean didn’t move an inch.

“That’s not true” Dean replied, his tone sharp.

“Isn’t it?!” Sam scoffed, pausing to study Dean’s reaction “Because from where I’m standing, you’re doing a pretty good job at hurting Y/N yourself”

Dean snapped, his jaw clenching “So you’re saying that all of this is MY fault?”

“No Dean” Sam sighed, taking a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose “But from what I witnessed, you’re the one she’s pissed at and she has a good reason to be. You completely shut yourself off from her”

“Because I need to focus on getting her out!” Dean replied in frustration, not understanding why Sam couldn’t see it from his point of view.

“No you need to focus on her” Sam argued, staring down his brother.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Dean chided, waving around the whiskey glass in his hand.

“It means what it means” Sam huffed, walking towards Dean’s door “Stop being an asshole and work it out Dean”

With that, Sam left Dean alone in his room, slamming the door behind him. Dean couldn’t help the wave of anger that washed over him. In a fit of rage, he threw his glass of amber liquid towards his bed. He collided his arms with his desk, sweeping off all of his things in one go. Kicking over his chair before running both of his hands through his hair, dragging them down his face.

He took a moment for himself, pulling his hands away from his face as he stared at his bed, leaning on his desk. It took a couple of minutes of staring for Dean to realise that the snow globe you bought, the snow globe that got you into this mess in the first place, was not on its stand next to his bed. Panic set in as he raced over to his night stand, frantically searching for the globe. When he saw it on the floor, in between the bed and the legs of the night stand, he grimaced. He hoped it wasn’t broken, he’d never forgive himself for his outburst if he’d smashed the last globe you had chosen before you went missing.

As his hand touched the glass, he let out a relieved sigh when he saw that it wasn’t broken. However upon closer inspection, he noticed that it had three dark cracks coming up from the base. He frowned and dropped his head as he cursed under his breath. Yes it wasn’t broken but it was still damaged and that was on him.

He carefully placed the globe back on its stand at the side of his bed before taking another swig of whiskey from his bottle. He thought about what Sam had said to him, about him hurting you. Dean would never do that intentionally and he hoped you knew that. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted you happy, he wanted you safe and he wanted to let himself love you.

Feeling the sting of another shot of whiskey, he thought about your kiss. The way you moulded against him and how you whimpered at his touch. He knew he was a lucky son of a bitch for you to even look his way. He creased his brow when he thought about how he had treated you. He knew Sam was right, he was being an asshole, especially towards you. Surely you wouldn’t give up hope just because of him? Not willing to waste another moment drowning in his own self-pity, he placed the cap back on the whisky bottle and headed to see Rowena. He was going to go over everything she had been over, look through every book, he was going to find a way to get you home.

As he entered your room, he noticed Sam holding the top of your left shoulder while Rowena was fussing over you. Dean hurried closer to you before seeing that the dark cracks in your skin had extended up your arm to the top of your shoulder. He watched as some of them were still developing, your skin literally tearing itself apart. He saw the frantic look in Sam’s eyes and the worry etched into Rowena’s features. Just as he got his thoughts together, just as he was thinking positive, something happens to swipe that feelings from under his feet.

Rowena looked up from her fussing to see Dean in between her and Sam “Dean, we’re running out of time” She expressed “The curse is quickening its hold over her”

Sam removed his hand from your body and ran it through his hair. There was a tension between the boys and Rowena watched on as she saw both brothers silently looking at each other. A silent conversation ensuing.

“Boys, I’m afraid she’s only got a few days at most” She said softer, wanting to break the tension in the room.

Dean held his gaze on Sam as he slowly started to nod, he knew what he had to do and Sam nodded back at him in agreement. Their brotherly bond showing in the silent exchange.

“Cas!” Dean bellowed, storming out of the room to find his angel friend. Castiel met him halfway down the hall and Dean motioned for him to follow him to his room “Send me to sleep. Wake me up in three hours” Dean commanded to Cas as he lay down on his bed.

Castiel just nodded, giving no argument and asking no questions. He knew he’d get the answers he would need from Sam. Feeling two fingers being placed on his fingers, Dean felt himself fall unconscious.

In the cabin, the rooms were dark. You hadn’t bothered to go out to stoke the fire, you were still trying to sleep, curled up under the blankets. You were currently nursing your left arm, not too long ago the familiar pain reared up on your left arm and you felt the cracks appear up to your shoulder. Of course you sobbed once more, you knew you were in for a slow death and at this point, you just wanted it to be over. The pain had subsided but the wounds were still tender, you were trying your hardest to not think about them. But if you weren’t thinking about your predicament in the cabin you were thinking of your predicament with Dean. It was a lose – lose situation. Squeezing your eyes shut, a familiar deep voice echoed “Y/N?”

You didn’t bother to move, your heart flipped and you felt sick. Before you were with Sam and Cas, you had other distractions but now it would just be you and him alone. You knew he wouldn’t have brought the boys back with him. You heard how his boots thudded on the thick wooden floor boards, you heard doors creak open as he looked for you.

You didn’t have to wait long for him to find you, this place wasn’t exactly a mansion and the human shaped mould under the bed covers also give away your position. You heard him enter the bedroom, knowing that he had stopped at the foot of the bed “Y/N I-”

“What do you want Dean?” You cut him off, your voice monotone, emotionless. You really hadn’t got the energy to deal with him

“We-we need to talk” Dean stuttered softly

You rolled your eyes under your blankets “There’s nothing more to talk about” You replied with a huff

You heard Dean huff back in annoyance “Come on Y/N-”

“No Dean!” You interrupt, tightening the blankets around you “You’ve said all you had to say last time you were here. I get it” You spat.

“I don’t think you do…get it” Dean retorted. You felt the anger bubble within you again. You didn’t want to hear his excuses and you didn’t want to deal with his attitude. To have him now tell you that you didn’t understand his words, made your blood boil.

“Excuse me?!” You questioned as you threw yourself upwards into a seated position, the blankets you had wrapped around you falling to your waist.

You saw Dean’s eyes immediately snap to your fresh injuries “Jesus Y/N, your shoulder. Are you ok?”

You quickly picked the blankets back up and wrapped them around you “It happened not too long ago. I’m fine, alright?” You said, looking away from him.

“Cut the crap Y/N” Dean said sharply as he stared directly at you.

“No Dean. You don’t get to come in here and act as if nothing happened. You don’t get to treat me that way” You snapped, gaining the confidence to meet his gaze. You hated how you were still attracted to him, you hated how he was just standing there looking as perfect as the day you met him.

You saw Dean bow his head, breaking your stare “Ok…I deserve that but I want to explain-”

“What how you used me as an experiment to try and bring me home?” You interrupted once again.

“What? What are you on about?” Dean questioned as he brought his gaze back to you, his brow creasing.

“The kiss Dean! It was all an act!” You exclaimed, frustration getting the better of you and you saw how Dean fidgeted slightly on the spot. You felt tears prick your eyes as you continued to explain “I let you into my heart and you walked all over it like it was nothing. Like I’m nothing”

Dean’s expression softened as he walked around to the side of the bed you were on “Y/N…”

“Save it Dean. Wake up, literally. You don’t want to be here connected to me, you don’t want this burden. It’d be so much easier for you and Sam to go on with your lives and just forget about me” You were trying so hard to hold back your tears but the closer Dean got to you, the harder it got.

He braved sitting at the end of the bed, angling his body to face you “What are you saying?” He questioned, leaning on one of his large hands on mattress.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you played with your fingers “Leave me alone. Let me die. Stop fighting this. It’s not worth it. There are so many other people you could be saving right now. I’m done” Your sentence become whispered at the end. You hadn’t got the energy to argue anymore.

You heard Dean huff next to you as his large hand lunged for yours “Don’t tell me you’re not worth fighting for Y/N” He said sternly, his hand gently squeezing yours.

You just shook your head and pulled your hand away “Why? This is my life and I’ll do with it as I see fit” You retorted.

There was an uncomfortable silence that filled the room after your last sentence. You just hugged your body tightly as you angled your face away from his. For the first time since you had been here, you just wanted to be alone. You wanted Dean to leave you be, listen to your wishes and get on with his life. But instead, he continued to sit next to you, running his hands through his hair. It made you jump when he suddenly angled his body back to you, gesturing at you with both hands.

“How can you be so selfish?” He accused and you immediately frowned.

“I-I’m sorry? Me selfish?” You objected, your anger reappearing and starting to fuel your words.

Dean just shook his head as he rubbed his hands together, his elbows resting on his knees “You have NO idea how much you mean to people back home do you? None! We are literally working day and night to get you home because we all miss you that damn much. We care for you that damn much and yet you’re here telling us not to bother! You’re allowing yourself to give up, you’re letting this curse win because you’re feeling sorry for yourself”

Your face became like stone, you didn’t think Dean could hurt you more than he already has but boy had he just proved you wrong “Fuck you Dean. I don’t see your skin being torn apart. I don’t see you cut off from everyone you know and love” You spat at him, your gaze burning a hole into the side of his face.

Dean just smiled slightly, shaking his head “Oh but that’s where you’re wrong sweetheart” He spoke evenly, his tone softer than before “Because I’m cut off from you”

Stunned. It was the only word that could describe how you were feeling in this moment. You didn’t know whether he had just, in his own way, confessed his love for you or whether you were just hearing what you wanted to hear. You couldn’t help but stumble over your own tongue when you tried to speak “W-what?” You questioned, your heart beating a million miles a minute.

Dean let out a puff of air from his nose as he turned to face you, still leaning on his knees “Do you think I’m enjoying seeing this happening to you? Do you not think that it’s fucking tearing me apart seeing you in this pain knowing that I’ve got nothing to kill, nothing to shoot at to make it better? It’s driving me insane because I can’t fix this! I can’t take your place and you know in a damn heartbeat I would” He stated with a passion, his own eyes glassing over “I have to see you, look at you, motionless on a bed while your body is attacking itself with something that is out of my control. I’m watching you ebb away from me Y/N and it’s killing me. Then I hear from Rowena that you’ve given up hope and stopped fighting, all because of what happened between us?” He questioned as he let a tear roll down his cheek.

“It’s not just that De-”

“Let me finish” He pleaded, holding one hand out for you to take. You just nodded and let your hand slip into his, allowing his fingers to intertwine with yours.

Dean didn’t try to wipe his tears, instead he just bore his eyes into yours as he took a deep breath for what he was about to say next “I treated you like a dick, a grade A asshole and I’m sorry for that. I truly am. But what you saw out there by that fireplace, what you felt, what we did? That was all real. You’re not an experiment Y/N, I told you before and I’ll tell you again, you’re my everything. You’re the one person in this world who can have a fucking crazy obsession with snow globes and I’ll still find it cute. You’re the one person that can pester the living shit out of me in the back seat of the impala and have me yearning for more on each road trip. You have my stomach flipping when you sing along to my mix tapes. You make me smile like a kid at Christmas when you make me pie. I’d die for you Y/N. Can’t you see that?”

“De-” You broke his gaze, you were overwhelmed, your heart was thumping. You felt as if you were dreaming, a blush was burning at your cheeks. You studied his hand in yours and you felt him squeeze it tightly.

“Look at me. Really look at me” Dean asked softly and you obeyed, looking up into his pine coloured eyes. There you saw no malice, no hatred, just endearment. Dean brought his other hand to the side of your face as he cupped your cheek softly “You’re it sweetheart, you’re my endgame. Come rain or shine, it’s you and me”

You couldn’t breathe as you let a tear fall down your cheek. So many emotions were running through you in this second but you still couldn’t believe your ears, you couldn’t believe what Dean had just said “You and me? As in…you AND me?” You questioned, needing to reiterate Deans point as you gestured between yourself and him.

Dean just smiled as he brought his forehead down to yours “There’s nothing I want more”

You couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your face at his reply and you didn’t waste a moment. You let go of his hand to bring both of yours up to cup his face, crashing your lips onto his. Dean eagerly responded to your advances, letting his tongue graze along your bottom lip as he pushed you back gently to lay you down on the bed. His weight feeling delightful on top of you, his hands feeling euphoric on your skin. You felt his hips grind into you as he nipped at your neck. You felt yourself grinding back at him as you whimpered his name. There was no denying how much you wanted him and his need for you was showing, digging into your core through his jeans.

You felt Dean withdraw himself from you, his lips slightly kiss swollen as he looked deeply into your eyes “Wait…wait”

“What?” You asked, a little breathless and a tad concerned.

You saw a smirk appear on his plump lips “Is this technically going to be like a wet dream?”

You bit back a smile and rolled your eyes, your arms wrapping around his neck “Just shut up and kiss me Winchester”

A/N: … Yay? Haha. Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading.

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spearywritesstuff · 7 years

Text

Buried Hope: Coda 13x2

A not 100% angsty coda to last night’s episode. You can also read it on Ao3 Here.

Dean practically crawled out of that room. It was too much, the sight of Jack, what he did. And Dean knew he'd screwed things up again. When he had the Mark, he did something like what Jack did. He remembered the many ways he'd tried to end himself. Seeing Jack like that froze him up. He said the wrong things. Jack was just a child, if Sam was to be believed. It was what Dean had wanted to hear though, when he was in the same state.

It could have helped Jack. Dean knew though that it didn't, that he was wrong, that he should go back and say anything. He sucked at this sort of thing, grieving, losing, living. He was maybe entirely broken now if he was letting a kid go through that. And all he could offer him was death as comfort. Dean pressed his head to the wall and let the tears fall. He was alone in his room. No one needed to know what all of this was doing to him.

If Cas were here he'd fix this, things might make sense. "How am I supposed to do this?" He was tapping the wall with his forehead now. The motion repeating, faster and more frustrated. Dean realized he was praying to Cas, and that the prayer would never reach him. More tears came.

He didn't know what was right anymore. There seemed to be no point, no light at the end of the darkness, no reward or even peace. "I don't have any love left in me. You took it with you, you goddamn sonofabitch." Dean was losing it more and more. His face was a mess of tears now. His breathing came in rough gaps.

"Dean," Jack said as he walked slowly into the room.

"Leave," Dean said, quietly but with an edge that held a threat in it.

Clearly not seeing the situation for what it was, Jack took another step and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause his death or my mother's death. I don't know how to fix that. I'm sorry I hurt you. I don't know how to fix that either."

"You can't fix shit, Jack." Dean hazarded a look at him past eyes that were swollen now from the crying he'd needed to do. Jack moved toward him, raising a hand. "Don't."

Jack ignored him and set his hand on Dean's shoulder anyway. "I can show you what he showed me."

"What do you mean?" Dean was a little afraid to ask, to engage even. Then Jack smiled, and that didn't help.

"Just look. You don't seem to know everything he thought of you. I think I can help with this." A warm rush of energy seemed to flow through him. Dean's hands curled into fists. He thought he should fight this. “Calm yourself. It won’t hurt.” Jack’s words seemed to come to him through a long, dark hall. Dean felt himself pulled into the vision which reminded him somewhat of the time that Cas showed him Purgatory.

Dean focused, and saw the vast field that was around them. He recognized it. Jack stood to his left, hand still settled on Dean’s shoulder. In front of them were Sam, Cas, and Dean. The moment was from over a year ago at least. Dean knew the moment well. They’d taken on a case, and Cas was with them. It was a small thing, nothing too hard. It was just the little sort of thing that they took care of between apocalypses.

Dean had wanted to make the full trek all the way back home to the bunker. It was long though. They stopped to stretch their legs. Something was eating at Sam and Cas. Dean remembered that he’d taken some risks that they didn’t like, but that wasn’t what was important about this moment, this place, and now he was standing here witnessing it with this devil kid.

“Just watch,” Jack encouraged. And Dean couldn’t do anything but comply.

Sam was wandering back to the car. Dean remembered that he had decided to get a drink. The field was pretty. It was not entirely flat. It had the sort of rolling hills in it that would make a kid think of just tumbling over one then the next. Cas moved to the other Dean’s side. He stood close, shoulder to shoulder. His fingers brushed the back of Dean’s hand.

Dean remembered this. He had shut it down maybe in order to keep from going after more. They never had time to get where they were going, and that maybe was what was killing him a little each day since North Cove. “You okay?” Cas asked. His voice low and pitched in concern.

“‘Mm okay,” Dean had muttered. He remembered how he had been too focused on Cas’ hand, on the fingers that seemed to brush tenderness into the back of his hand.

“I wish you wouldn’t take risks. I wish...” Cas trailed off. And this was their moment, their one and only moment.

“What do you wish, Cas?” Dean had turned his hand a little with the question, took Cas’ hand in his, and let his thumb stroke back and forth a moment before Cas answered.

“I wish,” he paused again and looked like he was struggling for words. He looked at Dean earnestly. “I’d fall, choose humanity in a heartbeat. I want that. You take too many risks though for me to chose any sort of life like that. You need an angel watching over you.”

At that moment, Dean let go of Cas’ hand. He’d felt rejected in that moment. Now watching it from the outside, he saw it differently. He felt the guilt wash over him. “I don’t need a babysitter, Cas.

“I know that. I just...” Dean turned away from him to head back to the car. Cas started to reach out for him, but Dean was already moving. Cas curled his hand into a fist and let it drop at his side. Cas murmured to himself, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean felt something small in him seize up a little. Then the scene in front of him changed, and he watched himself raking leaves. Cas stood off to the side watching him, with a look in his eyes that spoke of sadness and loss and loneliness. Dean wanted to go to him. The scene changed again, and he was asking Cas to take away Ben and Lisa’s memories of him. Dean cringed with the memory.

Next they were in Purgatory and Dean was sleeping for what must have been mere moments. He was leaned up against a tree, and Cas was next to him, awake. Dean watched as his body slid to the side and came to a rest against Cas’ shoulder. Then he slid more and was laying on Cas’ lap. Cas just stroked gentle fingers through his hair, whispering something over him.

The scene shifted again, and Cas was in his own room at the bunker. It was recent. They’d shared over beers how they each worried, how Dean worried. Sam was always a bit more chill where Cas’ absences were concerned. Dean had told him that he wasn’t mad, just worried. When they went to bed, he’d wanted to talk more, explain what was going on. It would have changed things though.

Cas went to his room and he went to his own. The scene in front of him told a bigger story. Cas moved out into the hall. He seemed to be weighed down by something. He came to Dean’s door and just stood there a moment. He raised his hand to knock. Instead he pressed his head to the door and just stood like that for several minutes.

Dean knew that he didn’t see him again that night. He’d gone to bed restless and wanting. He’d dreamed of actions he’d never take, of words he’d never say. Cas lifted his head from the door and stared down at the handle before turning it and walking in. Dean felt confused. This didn’t happen.

Cas was in his room. Dean was sitting up in bed, but he got up. He moved slowly to Cas, who closed the door behind him with a quiet click. Dean was breathing like he was nervous. He moved toward Cas though, and Cas moved toward him. They met in the middle of the room. Cas reached for him first. He brushed a hand over the back of Dean’s hand. “You can tell me to go.”

“I don’t want that.” Dean’s voice was low and rough with the sleep he almost had. “You know I don’t ever want that, right?” Cas just nodded a little unconvincingly. Dean reached up and lifted Cas’ chin so he’d have to look at him. “I don’t ever want you to go.” He leaned in then and kissed Cas, soft like he might break.

“This didn’t happen, Jack. I don’t remember this,” Dean said as the kiss progressed in front of them.

“It did. Just watch.” Jack sounded confident, and frankly Dean couldn’t do anything anyway.

It hurt to watch it, to know it wasn’t real. Cas never really knew what he meant to Dean. He would have to live with all of the regrets that come with never telling the one you love that you in fact love them more than anything. Dean closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the tremors that were the beginnings of more tears, more regrets.

Jack gave his shoulder a little squeeze. “He knew you loved him.” Dean opened his eyes and felt anger at Jack for forcing this on him, this fake moment. “Look.” Dean looked.

The kiss ended. Dean’s eyes were still closed and he hovered like he wasn’t really awake, frozen almost in the midst of what he’d been doing. Cas cupped the side of his face. He pressed his forehead to Dean’s. “I can’t stay yet. I’m being selfish. This’ll hurt you too much when I have to go.” He stepped back. “I’m sorry Dean. It’s better you don’t remember this.” He kissed Dean’s forehead and a small glow of grace bloomed between them.

“He took the memory. He worried all the time that he was being selfish with you, that he was making you hurt when he left, because he knew that you loved him.”

“That’s crazy,” Dean said. “That’s crazy.”

“No more so than what you had him do with the lady and her child. You showed him how to handle situations like this. Castiel did what you would have done. He loved you enough to follow your lead.” Jack looked back into the room. Cas was walking out and Dean was still just standing there.

Dean’s eyes opened and he shook his head, confused perhaps that he was out of bed. He crawled back under the covers and stared at the door like he was waiting for someone.

The vision faded. He stood with Jack in his own room again. “It didn’t help. I didn’t need to know that.” Dean sounded angry. It was all he had now. “Not like we can get him back. He’s dead!”

“I just thought you should know.”

“Yeah, well you thought wrong. Nothing matters anymore. I lost him, lost my mom, lost everything. All that stuff you just showed me. It just makes it worse.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I just didn’t know I could show you what I was seeing until now, and I thought you’d feel better. Castiel felt happy when I showed him things that I had seen in the future. He was hopeful. I wanted you to feel hopeful.”

“What did you show him?” Dean took a step back.

“You and Sam and your mom. You were sitting at a table together. Castiel was there too. He was human. Everyone was happy. There were no monsters to hunt, at least not really. The world wasn’t ending. There was peace.” Jack looked down at his feet. “I don’t know where the vision came from. It doesn’t make sense to see the future with Castiel in it if he is dead.” Then Jack looked up. “Unless he can come back. Can he come back?”

“Can you bring him back?” Dean didn’t want to sound hopeful. He was so not capable of being shot in the heart again.

Jack closed his eyes tight, and his nose wrinkled up a little as he did so. “I don’t know how to bring him back, but I didn’t know how to show you those other things until I did.”

“And you didn’t know how to teleport until you did,” Dean added. “And did you know that you were able to open up giant holes in the world that would let out evil demon creatures?”

“No, I didn’t know about that, until I did.” Jack looked at him.

“So you might be able to open up a hole between here and wherever angels go when they die. And you might be able to pull Cas out of there and back to us?” The last was definitely a question.

“I don’t know.” Jack smiled like he was picking up on Dean’s hope. “I can try.” He closed his eyes. Nothing seemed to happen. Jack’s eyes glowed golden and the room shook a little. Beyond that though, there was no evidence of change. Jack faded back to normal.

“Did it work?” He was still hoping, because a little hope fucks you up and becomes a big hope. And god, Dean was hoping big. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His heart was beating fast. He needed this. He needed this like air.

Jack’s brows came together. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I should try again.”

Dean felt his shoulders sag. He didn’t have anger in him though, just defeat. He reached out to the kid, set his hand on his shoulder, and said, “Maybe rest some. If you feel up to it, try again in the morning.”

Jack just smiled at him all gummy and innocent and way too much like Cas for Dean to feel comfortable. “Okay, Dean. I’ll try again in the morning.” He turned then and moved back out into the hall toward his bedroom.

Dean closed his door. He breathed out a prayer. “Come back.” There was just enough hope left in him to send out just that little bit and to repeat it. “I need you. Come back.”

And though he and Jack did not know that it worked, something stirred in North Cove.

#destiel #coda 13x2 #the rising sun #spn #jack kline #Dean winchester #Castiel #Sam Winchester

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thedogsled · 7 years

Text

13x02 Coda in three parts; Dean’s POV

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“I’m fine, Sam,” Dean snapped. Not for the first time, either. Sam had been trying to get him to stop driving for almost two hours now, and Dean was doggedly forcing himself to stay awake, biting the inside of his cheek every time he felt himself drifting. The car still hadn’t swung into opposing traffic, so he considered that to be something of a win, but exhaustion was finally starting to get to him.

They’d set off two hours after sundown, after one hell of a bad day, but there were still ten hours of driving to go before they had any hope of reaching the bunker.

Still, the thought of putting his head down on a pillow didn’t appeal to Dean at all. He wanted to stay awake. If he was still awake, then it was still the same day; the same day that he’d lost Cas, not the day after, or the day after that, or weeks after losing him. Somehow if it was never later, then Dean didn’t have to start counting the days. He didn’t have to worry about the inevitable point when enough days had passed that he was now supposed to magically move on from the fact that Castiel was dead.

But Dean knew he was struggling. He knew that sooner or later, even with his own prodigious skill at battling sleep, it was going to come round and bite him. He was only human, no matter how many times he’d been anything but, and it would catch up to him eventually. If he was really lucky, they’d all die in the inevitable collision.

Occasionally he would glance in the rear view mirror at the Nephilim sleeping in the back seat, his conversation with Sam still ringing in his ears. His brother thought there was hope there. Dean didn’t. He saw a mission. He saw the inevitability of fate, because Jack was Lucifer’s son, which meant he was going to go bad, just as Dean being John’s son meant that he was going to lose everything.

Sighing, he glanced to Sam. He loved the kid, he did, but Dean knew that Sam’s optimism blinded him. Okay, so he’d forgiven it, but Sam had sided with the Men of Letters when Dean had told him to make a choice, and look where that had led them.

If Sam was going to be the leader now, going to make his own decisions, then Dean had to respect them no matter how crazy he thought they were. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have a back up plan. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t be ready with a weapon when Sam’s new project went dark side. Sam had to respect that too.

His eyes returned to the road. It was a straight, lonely bit of highway, which made it too easy for his thoughts to wander. Too damn easy. Too easy to see the shape of a man in a tan trench coat on the side of the road, or glance into his rearview mirror and glimpse Castiel sleeping there instead of Jack.

The Impala skidded sideways along the road, rubber burning as Dean jammed down on the brakes and wrenched the wheel sideways to keep them from flying off into a field of corn. Jack was thrown awake in the back seat, and Sam, who had been dozing, shot forward in indignation the moment inertia cease, and snatched the keys out of the ignition.

“Sam!”

“No, Dean! No way!”

Dean tried his most threatening big brother voice. “Give me back the keys.”

“What, so you can try and kill us again? No, Dean. What the hell happened, anyway? Did you drop off?”

“There was a sheep in the road,” he lied.

“There wasn’t a sheep, Dean.”

“How do you know? You were asleep.”

“My eyes were open. There wasn’t a sheep.” Sam glowered at him.

“So you’re saying I hallucinated it?” Dean asked, sharply.

“Yes, Dean. You hallucinated a sheep. There are no sheep!” Sam opened his door briskly, getting out so that he could wave his hand into the night. “Do you see any sheep out here?”

While Jack looked flustered and uncertain in the back seat, watching them argue with wide eyes like a child who’d just been woken from a strange dream only to be even more startled that he was sleeping at all, Sam walked all the way around the Impala, opening Dean’s side.

“Get out.”

“Come on, Sam…”

“Get out, Dean. Get out of the car. I’m going to find us a motel.”

Eventually Dean got out, but he resolved to protest the rest of the way. This was a terrible idea, and it was going to get someone killed, Dean just knew it.

-----

He didn’t want to be in a bed.

He didn’t want to be in a room, he didn’t want to be trying to get some sleep, and he didn’t want to be on the goddamn planet Earth right now either. But here he was. It was inescapable. The cracked motel room ceiling was a blank canvas of misery above him, stained from damp, and covered in smudges where people had smashed mosquitoes into the paintwork. A particularly ugly spider had made its home in the corner, and where the paint wasn’t mouldy it was chipped and broken instead.

If he went to sleep then today would end. If he slept then sooner or later he would have to let Castiel go, and when he did that he’d lose him forever. Sleeping was loss, and Dean had had just about as much loss as he could take.

But he was drifting. He was drifting anyway, slipping from consciousness, ebbing…

Castiel was sitting at the end of the bed watching Scooby Doo. A single spark of light was shining out of a hole in his back, a pinprick of gold the only proof that Dean was dreaming, and this wasn’t really his angel come back to him.

For a moment, Dean thought he wouldn’t speak. Hallucinations didn’t, but dreams occasionally did. He should have remembered that. But then Cas turned toward him and smiled sadly.

“Hello, Dean.”

Two words and his heart ached so much that he didn’t want to hear even one more. But this dream had been sent to torture him. He knew it. This was his new Hell.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked. “What are you doing, Dean?”

Dean pulled himself upright, putting his back to the end of the bed. He stared at the apparition.

“What do you mean?”

Cas stared back.

“Fine,” Dean spat. “Fine, I know what I’m doing. You know why it’s got to be this way. He’s the reason you’re gone, Cas. You trusted him, you put your faith in him, and now you’re dead because of him. That’s what happens.”

“I’m not dead because of Jack, Dean. I’m dead because I thought it was my responsibility to kill Lucifer. I’m dead because I saw the chance, and because I thought it was the useful thing to do, and because even though I gave everything, it wasn’t enough.”

Dean twisted his face away. He couldn’t stand to look at Castiel, couldn’t look at the bright spot on his chest any longer. It was killing him.

“You should have stayed,” he said at last. “You should have stayed with us, with me. I needed you to stay.”

The touch of a hand against his jaw drew his attention forcefully up. Castiel was sitting right beside him, touching his face, looking into his eyes. Dean only knew he was crying because Cas’ face was looking blurrier by the second, and the angel’s thumb smudged through his forming tears. For a moment Dean even thought that Cas would lean in and kiss them away.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I wanted to.”

“Please, Cas. Please. I need you. Why did you leave me? Why did you have to go and leave? I can’t do this without you.”

He flung his arms around the angel’s neck, pressed his face into Cas’ shirt and began to sob, but as he did, Castiel caught fire, the flames rising higher, the smoke choking him, blinding him, burning his hands…

Darkness swamped him. Dean was wrapped around his pillow, tears running silently down his face, when consciousness tugged him back into the waking world.

Sam and Jack were still sleeping, their breathing steady, Jack’s left hand draped across the bible in his lap. It wasn’t burning, even if Dean vehemently believed it ought to be.

-----

The bar was empty but for the waitress. Even if she were his type, Dean wouldn’t have noticed. Not today. He had no interest in trying to find physical distraction. He was too tired, and it was all just so…so pointless.

Besides, he was here to get away from Jack, Sam and Donatello. He needed the break, needed time with his own thoughts, needed to be away from…from it.

Was it just to torture him that Jack looked and sounded so much like Cas? He was so eager to please, and yet so terribly literal. That crap where he went and stood in the corridor? That was something Cas would have done, with the same frowny-squint on his face the entire time. And the copycat behaviour? Sam obviously found it endearing, but all it did for Dean was dig in sharp claws and rake through his already tattered heart all over again.

Jack wanted to be like him, and what hurt almost as bad as losing Cas was the fact that Dean just didn’t think anyone should want to be like him, least of all potentially the most powerful being in the world. Jack was a catastrophe waiting to happen, and if he tried to be like Dean then that would surely just be compounded. Dean was a curse. He knew that now. The people he loved always, always died, and every decision he ever made ended in worse things happening, over and over again.

No, Jack shouldn’t be like him. If Dean could put a stop to anything, it would be any effort the kid was trying to make to imprint on him. He’d drive him away even harder if he had to.

For now he just couldn’t take it. He needed the space, needed to be away from it all, needed to just close his eyes and pretend that the world was a normal place and he was a normal person, when it felt like nothing would ever be normal again.

Leaning against the counter, his drink half ignored at his side, Dean thumbed his way through his phone apps. He couldn’t play Scrabble because it reminded him of his mom, and Candy Crush was off the cards because Cas loved it so much.

Cas.

Without thinking, Dean drew up his old text messages. They were old text messages, because Cas had stopped answering his calls and texts for so long, but Dean had kept the sequences he found particularly endearing or funny. In fact it was safe to say that his collection of old texts with Cas was the reason why he hadn’t replaced his phone. Changed the handset, sure, when evil witches had smashed the screen, but…

Dean sighed, idly flicked his thumb across the screen, halting abruptly when he found an unread message tucked in among the others. It was from just after Christmas.

Dean licked his lips, looking down at the unanswered question, at the blinking cursor that suggested that he should write a reply and put Cas out of his misery. Instead, the waitress tried to catch his attention, and Dean looked up from his phone to acknowledge her.

He still really needed to finish his drink…

#spoilers #crying #s13 spoilers #spn spoilers #coda #s13x02 #jack kline #dean winchester #slightly shippy gen #destiel

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scribblystorydump · 7 years

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First Date Castiel x Reader

So the lovely @hayliejune gave me this prompt:

CasXreader fic where Cas is nervous to go on his first date and he takes them to a field to stare at the beautiful pink sunset, flowers and the bees buzzing all around and to just appreciate nature.

and I went a bit over board with it! (The total word count is almost 2,900 words!?) Sorry for any spelling errors or tense changes I may have missed. Let me know if you want me to post it in three separate parts. For now, here’s the entire thing. There are no warnings, it’s just disgustingly fluffy and cute. Enjoy!

Part one

“Thanks for dinner Y/n. It was excellent.” Sam grinned, scraping the last bite of the meal you’d prepared from his plate. Dean nodded vigorously, his cheeks packed to the brim.

“You’re very welcome! I like feeding my boys.” You beamed as you began clearing away the dishes. It wasn’t often they had a home cooked meal. Dean enjoyed cooking, but never seemed to find the time. You couldn’t blame him. Hunting made for a spontaneous and busy lifestyle. You had gone out to by the necessary ingredients four days ago. There wasn’t usually time for sit down dinners, but tonight was a wonderful exception.

“I can help clean up.” Sam said politely, grabbing his plate. Cas abruptly stood up. Everyone turned to look at him.

“Um, I’ll help Y/n clean up Sam, you and Dean can go.” His eyes darted around the room and his arms were glued firmly to his sides. Sam’s brows rose. He gently set his plate back on the table. Dean’s eyes flashed with understanding. With a smirk, he shoveled one last bite into his mouth before standing and smacking a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“C’mon Sammy.” Dean garbled through his mouthful. Sam frowned at Dean before looking back to Cas and Y/n. It was then a knowing look washed over his face.

“Of course Cas, we’ll see you later.” Sam replied with an encouraging smile. Afterwards he followed his brother out of the kitchen leaving Y/n and Cas alone. Confused at what had just gone down, your eyes landed on Cas, who was still staring at the table. He looked like he was going to be sick.

“Are you alright Cas?” You ask. Your voice seemed to snap him from his trance and he began stiffly gathering plates.

“Yes of course. Everything is fine.” He answered unconvincingly. With a frown you continued cleaning up.

Castiel and you have always spent plenty of time together. He could always make you smile. For some reason his presence comforted you. You weren’t sure if it was his angel mojo, or because of the feelings you harbored for him. Tonight however, felt different. The air in the room was tense. You weren’t sure whether to be excited or nervous. You heard the rattle of plates behind you. Did he sense this change too, or was it all in your head?

Meanwhile, Castiel’s heart pounded in his chest as he carried the stack of dishes over to you. He swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He needed to get his vessel under control.

“Have Sam and Dean found any hunts for this weekend?” his voice tentatively broke the silence. As it fell on your ears, your shoulders sagged with relief. At least he was going to talk to you.

“No. I think we’ll be able to enjoy some down time.” Castiel’s head bobbed in acknowledgement.

“Do you have any plans for how you’d like to spend this ‘down time’?” He spoke the words “down time” as if he wanted to make air quotes around the phrase.

Your heart sped up at his question. It was probably just Cas being Cas; he asked weird things all the time without realizing the implications. He shuffled beside you, grabbing the towel to dry the plates you had rinsed. What do you even say?

“I don’t know, I haven’t really thought much about it.” It was a half-truth. Although, you supposed, that still made it a lie. You had in fact thought quite a lot about what you would do with your much-needed down time. Endless possibilities filled your thoughts, but the prospect of doing something with Cas… Let’s just say you were willing to change any plans you’d already considered.

Castiel’s silence made you turn. He was staring. It seemed like his eyes penetrated your very soul. The intensity of his gaze caused a blush to spread across your cheeks, but to your surprise it was Cas who looked away first. His eyes darted down to your lips for a fraction of a second, before falling to his shoes.

There seemed to be something burning inside him, something he longed to say, but didn’t know how to ask. You weren’t sure what to so you waited nervously for him to say something, to say anything. Finally, he found what he needed from somewhere inside him and raised his eyes again.

“Y/n would you like to go on a date with me?” He spilled out. His whole body was rigid, frozen. The seconds before your reply felt like hours to Cas, the anticipation screaming inside him.

You felt a rupture in your chest as your heart soared. It flew to your throat, no longer a prisoner inside you, ready to spill forth all the love you’d been holding back.

“Yes!” You cried, a strangled laugh falling from your lips.

As soon as the words rolled from your mouth his entire body seemed to slacken. A huge jack-o-lantern grin spread across his cheeks like you’d never seen before. His eyes lit up with passionate flames as he beheld the joy radiating from you.

You pounced, unable to control yourself, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Cas stumbled backwards, momentarily gripping the counter for support, before balancing and returning your affection. His arms felt so warm and secure around you, so right, so perfect.

You wished the hug would last forever, but dishes still needed to be done. At last you pulled away from each other. Castiel’s face bore a small smile as he regarded you. You ran a hand through your hair, still in a state of mild shock.

“Does tomorrow at dusk sound good?” You nodded fervently.

“Perfect. Meet me in the library at 8:45.” It would admittedly be difficult to wait until then. Anticipation was already simmering in your stomach.

“We should probably finish the dishes.” He chuckled.

You reached for the soap to clean the last few things. The rest of the cleaning seemed to fly by. It was filled with lots of smiles and furtive glances, many of which were shared between you. Soon the last plate was tucked away in the cabinet. You let out a small sigh.

“Well I’d better go get some rest.” You said turning to Castiel. He nodded slowly, clasping your hand between both of his.

“Goodnight Y/n. I look forward to our evening tomorrow.” Our evening… The words echoed dreamily in your mind. Cas leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on your cheek before dropping your hand and walking down the hall. You stood alone in the kitchen absolutely star struck, your cheek still tingling from where he kissed you. A warmth spread through you and you found yourself flushing madly. You grinned like an idiot all the way back to your room.

On your way back, you passed Sam in the library. His head lifted from his book as you approached.

“What happened with Cas?” He inquired innocently, a smile playing at his lips.

“Castiel and I are going on a date tomorrow night.” You gushed, unable to tame the expression of pure joy on your face.

“Congratulations. You two deserve it.”

“Did you and Dean know?” You asked, suddenly remembering their odd behavior when Cas asked them to leave. Sam dropped his gaze back to his book with a smirk. You point an accusatory finger at him.

“You totally knew!” He chuckled, but didn’t reply, so you continued down the hall shaking your head. At last you made it to your room. You fell unceremoniously onto the sheets. Your mind, swirling with thoughts of Cas and your upcoming date, kept you up long into the night. Eventually you dozed off, dreaming of dishes and cheek kisses.

Part two

That morning you awoke with surprising ease, giddy to start the day. With a smile you turned on all the lights in your room and stepped into the hall. Today was going to be amazing.

Your bare feet padded their way to the kitchen. Sizzling met your ears and the smell of eggs wafted to your nose. Delightfully surprised, you found Dean standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand.

“Hey Y/n, sleep well?” He leaned back against the stove.

“Not really, I couldn’t turn my brain off.” He grinned. You came to stand alongside him and admire his handiwork.

“I figured since you made that spectacular dinner there would be groceries in the fridge, so I’m making breakfast omelets.” You breathed deeply through your nose, a smile creeping over your face.

“It smells wonderful, thanks Dean!” You poured yourself a mug of coffee and sat at the table while he continued cooking. After a few flips with the spatula Dean spoke up.

“So where are you and Cas going tonight?” A smirk played at his lips. You blushed into your mug.

“He said to meet him in the library at 8:45. I’m not sure what he has planned.”

“Awesome.” Dean replied, scooping the first finished omelet onto a plate.

“Surprises are the best. I’m so glad he finally asked you.” He winked, setting a steaming omelet in front of you. You nodded in agreement, eyeing the meal set before you.

“How long has he been trying to ask me?” Dean shrugged.

“I don’t know that I can say, but we’ve talked about it a lot.” You took a bite of omelet, hoping Dean wouldn’t notice your burning cheeks. Although he didn’t make any further comments, he did smirk at you through the rest of breakfast.

The rest of the day went by slowly. Far too slow. You cleaned your room, did laundry, read, caught up on some TV shows, and still you found yourself aimlessly wandering the bunker halls wishing the time away. Despite walking the whole bunker at least twice, you never saw Cas. You wondered where he was. Perhaps he was preparing somehow. Do angels ever get impatient? You didn’t know.

Finally it got to be late enough in the day to shower. The sun was beginning to sink in the sky. You practically skipped to your bedroom to shower.

You hummed pleasantly to yourself as you stripped and turned the water on. I wonder where we will go? It was the question you couldn’t stop pondering. Possibilities filled your thoughts as you scrubbed up, making sure to shave your legs and use lots of wonderful smelling shower gel. A park, a restaurant, a movie… You tried to imagine where Cas would think to take you. The idea of going anywhere alone with him excited you. Whatever you ended up doing, you knew it would be wonderful, simply because Castiel would be there.

You fixed you hair and ended up wearing a red sundress with blue flowers on it. It wasn’t too fancy, but definitely a step up from flannels and jeans. After applying some light make up and putting on some silver earrings and black combat boots you felt ready. You gave yourself a onceover in the mirror before smiling nervously at your reflection. You could do this.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you clicked the door to your bedroom closed and made your way to the library. To your surprise, Sam and Dean were waiting for you. They grinned when you entered, Dean letting out a whistle.

“You look great Y/n.” he said. You looked down at yourself, a surge of confidence rising in your chest.

“Thank you.” You rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet. Any moment now your angel was going to walk through that arch way and whisk you away. Then the evening would begin. After the longest minutes of your life you heard footsteps in the hall. Your heart thudded as Castiel stepped into the library.

Cas was wearing a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with the same black pants and dress shoes he always wore. Even though he didn’t look much different, his outfit took your breath away. He flashed a small smile as he approached you, carrying a large basket.

“Y/n, your even more magnificent than I imagined you’d be.” His praises echoed in your ears and filled you up with warmth. A blush spread over your cheeks.

“I could say the same about you.”

He flushed, his glance flickering momentarily to his shoes.

“Look at you love birds. It’s like we just walked into a chic flick.” Dean teased. Castiel gave him a look before hooking his arm with yours.

“Shall we?” He turned to you. You gazed up into his eyes. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest as you answered.

“Yes.”

Part Three

You felt a dizzying tug and a vicious whirl, as Cas flew you both to your date. When your feet firmly hit the ground, you opened your eyes. You were standing on a grassy hill in the middle of a clearing. The field around you was full of wildflowers. The pleasant sound of crickets and cicadas soothed your ears. Honeybees buzzed around small white flowers at your ankles and the sky. Oh the sky! The sun was just beginning to sink past the horizon, lighting the clouds with an assortment of pinks and oranges. Your mouth hung open slightly as you beheld the wonderful scenery.

“This place is beautiful Cas,” you whisper. While you scanned the surroundings, he studied your face. The way it lit up with wonder.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

You finally turn to him, with a grin.

“You’re too kind Castiel.” He pulled a blanket out of the basket and began spreading it over the grass.

“I thought it might be nice if we could eat dinner and watch the sunset together.” Cas scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“I know it might not be very exciting but, I thought it would be-“

“That sounds lovely.” You interrupted him, seating yourself down on the soft blanket. He joined you, shuffled around in the basket for a moment and then passed you a sandwich. You accepted it and took a bite. He watched your reaction carefully as you chewed.

“Peanut butter and jelly.” You swallowed.

“Do you like it? I wasn’t sure if I applied a satisfactory amount of jelly,” he admitted. You shook your head.

“It tastes good.” Castiel seemed pleased by that response. He leaned back on his palms and stared up at the setting sun.

“I’ve always found sunsets to be one of the most peaceful things in my father’s creation. They’re so beautiful. Sometimes it’s good to stop and watch them. Leave the world behind, even if it’s only for a moment.”

You nod, listening to his musings.

“It almost makes you forget all the evil in the world. Out here, it’s just you, me and the sky.” Having finished your sandwich, you shimmied over to his side. Cas stilled as you leaned up against him and grasped his hand. He slowly intertwined his fingers with yours and bent down to gently kiss your hair. The smell of your shampoo wafts into his nose. He smiled at the endearing aroma.

The two of you snuggled together, watching the sky until the last rays of light fade away and the bugs begin to protest your presence. Only then did you reluctantly stand. Cas folded up the blanket. You stretch you arms behind you back.

“This was wonderful Cas.”

He smiled fondly as he held his arm out to you. You clasped your hand in his and held tightly to his arm.

“Indeed, it was.” He leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips. You froze, the feeling of his chaste kiss gone by the time you registered it. Before you could you’re your eyes and kiss back, you were being yanked back to the bunker. Suddenly the hard bunker floors thudded against your feet. You stumbled, gripping Castiel in an attempt not to fall.

“Cas!” You yelled, turning to him. His eyes were fixed bashfully on the wall beyond your face.

“You idiot, c’mere.” You happily plant your lips on his. He responds immediately, pressing back against you with a quiet sigh. Cas brings a hand up to your cheek and tilts your head towards him, bringing the two of you impossibly closer. You pull back for a breath, only to surge forward a moment later.

A throat clears behind you.

“Are you two just gonna stand there and make out all night? I thought that’s what the date was for.”

The two of you startle apart, turning to face Sam and Dean who were standing in the library entrance.

“Looks like you kids had fun.” Dean smirked, striding over and patting Castiel on the shoulder.

“’Atta boy Cas!” He winked at you before setting back off down the hall. Sam shook his head as his brother passed.

“I’m glad you guys had a good night.” Sam said.

You grin at him, and then back at Cas.

“Me too.”

#castiel x reader #cas x reader #castiel reader insert #cas reader insert #supernatural x reader #first date #fluff #this took me sooooo long #sorry love!#I might add an extra part later....#who knows #;)#let me know what you think!

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tankcupcakes · 7 years

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Into the Mystic - Five

Characters: Dean, Sam, Cas, OCs

Warnings: I'll just give this whole thing a blanket warning of language, fluff, and angst Word Count: 3,150

A/N: This story is a sequel to THUNDER ROAD - catch up HERE! Special thanks to Angie @atc74 and Megan @paintrider13-blog for helping me brainstorm and reading through this! ❤️

Feedback is always excellent - tags are open! This will be a wilder ride than before, so buckle up, friends! :) xoxo

Into the Mystic Masterlist Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four tankcupcakes masterlist

March, 2017 Lebanon, Kansas

A week after the mind-meld debacle, about two weeks after Eve's arrival, things had begun to simmer back down at the bunker.

Dean was in a better spirits, so everyone else was too - but this particular morning he had woken up in a foul mood due to a vivid nightmare he'd had while sleeping. He was dreaming about hell again.

He was alone in his bed, something he noticed immediately, and he got up, dressing quickly before venturing into the hall. Eve's room was empty, as were Sam and JD's. Cas had gone to check a lead on Lucifer, leaving a couple days prior. Everything was quiet. Dean started to feel a little nervous, walking just a bit quicker into the kitchen, library, and war room - all of which were vacant. Heading back down the hall to the other side of the bunker, his heart rate slowly rising, he heard muffled laughter and cheering coming from the shooting range. His creeping paranoia subsided, but the anxiety remained as he pulled the door open. JD, Sam, and Eve all stood at the far end, and she appeared to have just fired, safety ear muffs hung around her neck. The smile was wiped from Sam's face instantly when he saw Dean enter the room and stalk toward them. "Oh, man, Dean! You should've seen it - shot it right between the eyes, she did!" JD seemed to be bubbling over with excitement, his grin wide and eyes sparkling. Upon turning and seeing Dean - as well as the irritated expression on his face - Eve suddenly elbowed JD in the ribs and he glanced down at her. She was shaking her head as she muttered, "Stop. Mad. He's mad." A look of surprise and realization crossed his face as he nodded, his enthusiasm squashed as he faced Dean again. "Who's idea was it to bring her in here?" Dean asked, turning his attention to Sam, who stared back at him with a stony look on his face. "Mine," Eve answered immediately, completely willing to take the heat for this, but Dean could feel the guilt coming from her. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Liar," he countered, crossing his arms as he was met with silence. "Uh, well, I guess I suggested it, didn't I?" JD said after a moment, hoping to diffuse the situation with the truth. "I didn't think -" "Didn't think what?" Dean asked. "Didn't think it would be a big deal to get her killed?" "Dean," Eve said in a warning tone, her hands planted on her hips. "Shooting a gun at a paper target is hardly going to get me killed." "No, but thinking you're prepared to use it in the field will." "Shouldn't she actually be prepared, then...?" JD asked uncertainly, shifting his eyes from Eve to Dean. "She's not going out with us," Dean replied rigidly. "Not now, not ever." Eve opened her mouth to reply, but Dean pointed at her before she could get any words out. "And you can save it - you'll thank me when everyone else we know is dead." "That's enough, Dean," Sam spoke firmly and for the first time since Dean had entered the room. Raising both eyebrows as he looked at his younger brother, Dean let his arms fall to his side. "Oh yeah? You think this is a good idea?" "Yeah, I do," Sam replied evenly with a nod, refusing to back down as he kept his eyes locked with Dean's. "You can't be serious, Sam. You know how dangerous it is out there -" "Exactly, Dean - we both know how dangerous it is. That's why it's important for her to be able to protect herself." "Sam -" "And don't be so arrogant to think that you're the only one who cares about her," Sam replied swiftly, unwilling to allow himself to be interrupted. "Look, you can lock her up here and pretend that she's not going to see combat all you want. But, don't you want her to be prepared? I'm not trying to be a dick, but it's inevitable that she's going to need to know how to defend herself." Everyone silently waited for Dean to respond, but he didn't, so Sam continued, “I'm not saying she should go out in the field with us - I don't want that either, but there may be times that she has to." “I’m not raring to go charging into any hunts, Dean,” Eve said, tilting her head slightly as she spoke to meet Dean’s gaze. “Honestly, I’d prefer to never have to fire at anything, but I agree with Sam - I should know how.”

Dean’s eyes went from Eve, to JD, and landed on Sam as he heaved a sigh.

“Now maybe, instead of making us feel shitty about this, you could help us?" Sam suggested in a lighter tone. "We both know you're the best teacher, and she's already got great aim. How many times did she kick our asses in darts?" Dean watched him carefully before allowing himself to crack a small smile. "Alright," he said, nodding. "You're right. She needs to be able to defend herself.” He turned to Eve again. “Bet you can’t hit that thing between the eyes twice in a row.”

A few hours later, target practice had ended and everyone had dispersed into separate areas of the bunker.

Dean had gone to take a shower and after found Eve laying across her bed, reading.

“Hey,” he said, leaning on the door frame, “you wanna drive into town? As cute as you look in all my clothes, I thought you might want to get some of your own. And maybe a phone or something.”

“Are you offering to take me shopping?” she asked with a smirk. “You feeling okay?”

He chuckled. “Yes. Just wanted to offer you an olive branch for being a dick since you've been back.”

“And you want to watch me freak out around technology again?”

“Maybe a little, yeah.”

“Sure,” she said with a nod as she rolled off the bed and stood. “That sounds fun. Give me a minute to get ready and we can go.”

Dean smiled at her before wandering off into the library, where JD was sitting slumped over the table, his chin resting on his hands.

“Ughhh, Dean, I’m bored,” JD whined as he entered the room.

Dean stopped and gave JD an offended look. “Do not use that voice, you are a grown man.” He resumed walking again toward the war room. “And sorry, buddy, can't help you. Evie and I going to Hays so she can pretend like she’s a millennial.”

“Can I come?” he asked, raising his head as his face lit up like a puppy’s.

Dean had really hoped to take her alone, but did feel a little pang of guilt. He stopped again. “Actually -”

Sam walked into the library then. “Hey, guys.”

“Sam,” Dean began, “I was hoping to take Evie into the city, could you and JD-”

“Oh, you're going into town?” Sam asked, looking up expectantly. “I need to look at a new charger for my laptop, mine’s acting fritzy…”

“Aye, let’s all go,” JD said, hopping up from his seat as he pulled his phone out and showed it to Sam. “Och, my screen is doing somethin’ weird, d’you see that?”

“Sam,” Dean deadpanned, but it was no use as both men had already turned and started heading to the garage.

“Hey,” Eve said as she reappeared next to him. “You ready?”

He had a disappointed look on his face as he sighed and nodded. “Yeah, me and the whole Winchester clan.”

They had driven into Hays, which was almost two hours of loud off-key singing.

There was a large strip mall in the center of town - Sam and JD had broken off to go to an electronics store while Dean had taken Eve to pick some clothes.

Ironically, 60’s and 70’s fashions were popping back up, which she had gotten a laugh out of. This was mostly what she leaned towards, but had opted for some more modern choices as well. She’d really liked the skinny jeans, grabbing a few different colors and even chose to wear a pair out of the store.

They’d met up with Sam and JD again afterward - Sam had picked a suitable smart phone for a beginner and told her he’d help her get it all set up back at the bunker.

A small music store was near the lot they parked in and Eve looked over at Dean wishfully. He laughed and nodded his head and she practically pranced inside.

Dean cocked his head to the side as he watched her walk away - the jeans she'd bought were definitely working for her. "Quit it," JD muttered, elbowing him in the side. "Quit what?" Dean asked after a moment, snapping out of his trance as he turned to JD. "Quit eye-fucking her." Dean scoffed and gave JD an indignant look. "First of all, I'm not eye-fucking her, and second of all, mind your own business." "Aye, well - most unfortunately, you made it my business." "You made it your business." "She's my mother -" "Oh my god, I can't deal with you today," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes as he looked at Sam. "Is this what it's like to talk to me?" JD huffed. "Excuse me, but I am delightful to be around -" "You're a pain in my ass, is what you are," Dean replied. "You guys are a mess," Sam said, shaking his head with a smirk as he followed Eve into the store. Sam had taken an immense amount of joy in being able to introduce her to music from the 90's - it was his personal favorite and he spent over an hour in that one section. He promised to bring her back to expand her music collection again later that week.

The worst part about this trip for Dean was JD buying a Duran Duran album - and playing it the whole way home. He heard Hungry Like the Wolf no less than five times that day.

Later that evening as Sam prepared to retire for the evening, he stopped at Eve’s room, her door open.

"Hey," he said, leaning on Eve's door frame as he gave it a few courteous taps. Eve stood near him, setting up the record player Dean had bought her earlier that day on the desk. Her face lit with a smile as she looked up to see him. "Hey yourself - what's up?" "Nothing, I... I've wanted to tell you, but it never really seemed appropriate to say, y'know? Never a good time to mention..." She eyed him carefully, one eyebrow raised. "Out with it, then." "I wanted to thank you," he blurted, awkwardly crossing his arms over his chest. "For what you did for us. For him." "For both of you," she corrected him back to his original statement, turning to fiddle with the record player again. "Either way," he continued, still standing in the doorway like it was some kind of threshold, "It took a lot of courage. I already knew what kind of person you were, but the things you sacrificed for us? You're far better than we deserve." "You better shut your damn mouth," she replied evenly, not looking over. He gave a dry chuckle, one side of his mouth twitching up as he absently ran a hand through his hair. "Anyway - I'll leave you alone, I just wanted to tell you that." "You're welcome," she said softly after a moment, eyes flashing up to him briefly before diverting back down. "I'd do it again." Sam heaved a sigh, though his half smile stayed where it was. "I hope you'll never have to." She didn't respond to this, placing one of her new records inside the player and setting the needle over it. "Sam?" she said just as he had turned to exit, causing him to swivel back. "Yeah?" She didn't say anything for a moment, arms hung at her sides as she looked up at him with her head cocked to the side. "You okay?" he asked, his head involuntarily tilting too. She nodded but still didn't speak as she stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. "Eve?" he said uncertainly, one arm squeezing her in return. She was smiling when she pulled away, one hand resting on his cheek for a moment before she took a step back. "You are a wonderful and kind man, Sam Winchester - I hope you remember that always." He chuckled nervously. "You're kinda scaring me here, Evie - what's going on?" "Nothing," she dismissed with a shake of the head. "You told me something that was uncomfortable for you, and I had something to tell you too. It's just - when Cas did the brain whammy -" Sam snorted "- I saw and felt some of the things that have happened to you, the way Dean felt them. I know self loathing is a classic Winchester trait, but I just wanted to tell you that. You're wonderful and I love you like you were my own brother." Sam blinked widened eyes at her statement - eyes that were a little watery and he cleared his throat uncomfortably as he nodded. "Thank you," he said sincerely. He surprised her when he hugged her tight again. "I love you too. And I've never had a sister before, but it's hard to imagine a better one than you." She smiled over his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. "Thank you for taking care of JD. And Dean, of course." A crooked grin was on his face as they pulled away from each other and he shook his head. "Looking after Dean's dumb ass was my responsibility long before you came along," he said with a wink, and the two of them shared a laugh. “G’night, Evie.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

Dean's eyes shot open as he lay quietly in his dark bedroom. A tilt of the head showed him the clock on the wall, glowing brightly - 3:00 AM. His outstretched fingers glided across the bed sheets, finding nothing on the other side of the mattress. Fear took hold in an instant, and it was at that moment that JD's voice rang loudly from a few rooms over. "Don't you touch me!" A loud shattering sound followed this and Dean had vaulted from his bed in a split second, hurdling down the hall, swinging JD's door wide open. Light from the hall filtered in the room and he could see Eve on the ground with her back against the wall, JD crouched down beside her. Dean flipped the light on to see her cradling a bloody hand in her lap, a terrified look on her paler than normal face. Broken glass lay scattered on the ground around her and the scene wasn't all that difficult to piece together. Drenched in sweat and out of breath, JD's face wore an expression of deep regret and shock as he stared at Eve. After a moment, he looked up at Dean. "It was an accident," he gasped out. Eve also peered up at Dean, who shifted his gaze to her, his heart drumming in his chest. "What happened?" "He was having a nightmare," she replied softly. "I could hear him down the hall. I tried to wake him up, but I scared him and he shoved me. I brought the glass down with me." Dean dipped down to kneel beside her too. "Let me see," he said, holding his hands out for her injured one. She did as he asked, and he examined the pieces of glass sticking out of her palm. JD moved to reach his hand out, perhaps to remove the glass, but retracted it again quickly, still watching Eve carefully with wide eyes. Dean's eyes flicked up to meet his son's before focusing again on the task in front of him. "I've got it," he said evenly, addressing both of them as he plucked the three large pieces of glass out. "There are a couple smaller pieces, I need to go grab some tweezers. I'm gonna need to stitch you up too - this is pretty deep." She nodded at him, appearing to have calmed herself, but still on edge. "Are you okay?" he asked, searching her eyes for the truth before he would leave the room. Eve let out an exhale and nodded her head. "Alright," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before standing. "I'll be right back." He stopped at the door to glance at JD, who was still frozen down on the ground by Eve, the look of horrified shock firmly in place. He looked like a child. When Dean returned a few minutes later, he hesitated in the doorway, unsure if he should interrupt them or not. Eve sat where he had left her, injured hand propped out of the way, JD's head in her lap. His body was curled into as much of a ball as his large frame would allow, one arm wrapped around her back, and he murmured apologies between sobs. She shushed him gently, her good hand softly stroking his hair. If she hadn't had an injury that needed attention, Dean wouldn't have disturbed this moment in a million years - as it was, he moved as quickly and quietly as he could. She sucked in a sharp breath through her clenched teeth as Dean began to stitch the gash, and this sound seemed to bring JD back to reality. He looked up at her and then over at Dean, his face flushing as he pulled himself back together, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. "What was your dream about?" Dean murmured, attention focused on his sewing. "Nothin'," JD muttered back. "Mmm... seems like a lot of fuss for 'nothin'," he replied. JD's face was still burning red and he shook his head. "I'd prefer not to talk about it, if it's all the same to you," he said defensively. "Suit yourself," Dean murmured in the same soft tone, tying the last stitch off. He stood, taking Eve's good hand and helping her to her feet. One hand brushed her cheek and he gave her a half smile. He looked past her at JD. "If you change your mind, I know a thing or two about nightmares." Without another word about it, Dean turned to leave, Eve releasing his hand briefly to turn back to JD, who was still seated on the floor. She bent down and kissed his forehead softly, one hand smoothing his hair before she took Dean's hand again, the pair of them leaving the room, sharing secret looks of concern.

Part Six

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#dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic

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seenashwrite · 7 years

Text

A Delicate Desiccation

Status: Complete Word Count: 4.7K Category: One-shot; Behind-the-scenes canon compliant; Melancholia; Friendship; Mystery; On-the-case Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, Cas, Reader/Female O.C. Pairing(s): inferred Warnings: None Author’s Note:

*~* ADVISE YOU DO NOT LOOK AT THE COMMENTS PRIOR TO READING - someone accidentally spoiled the ending! Oops! *~*

Overall Summary: The Winchesters must deal with a creature unlike one they’ve tackled before & accept some things can only be preserved in memories.

I inhaled deeply, letting my eyes close and my head rest atop my folded arms. I'm not sure how long I was like that, thinking too hard, trying to recall the scent. Never even heard the approaching footsteps.

"Stop that."

"Why?"

"Because it's creepy as hell."

"It reminds me of something. Not a perfume or a shampoo. Well, maybe shampoo, but---"

"Stop."

I did, but only briefly. "Maybe a cake recipe? Except it's not sweet..." I raised my head again, but didn't open my eyes, just tilted over the side of the bathtub, drawing in an even deeper breath.

“Stop! Please."

The 'please' made me open my eyes and turn my head towards him but he'd already turned, too, walked off without waiting to see if I'd done as he'd asked.

I was so bad with him lately.

I gasped, snapped my fingers as it hit me. It was citrus and some cedar, sure, and I'd seen the cloves... no, cardamom. It had to have been cardamom that was tripping me up.

I sprang to my feet and as I bounced through the bathroom doorway, stepping into the frigid motel room, grinning happily, excited to tell him, I heard the Impala's engine gun. The front left tire still needed air; it screamed as it ground into the asphalt. The setting sun was cutting through the window at just the right angle to hit my eyes, but I didn't need to blink.

That part, I remembered. And the eating and the sleeping parts. Could not for the life of me remember the part about breathing.

Anyway. He'd return. They'd return. One of them. Someone. At some point.

So for now, I went back to sit with my body.

STEPS ONE THROUGH FOUR:

BE ON RECEIVING END OF SIX-TO-TEN FATAL STAB WOUNDS;

LURCH NO MORE BUT NO LESS THAN EIGHT STUMBLING STEPS TO THE LEFT, THEN THREE SMALL WOBBLES OR ONE LARGE LURCH BEHIND;

ALLOW FORM TO FALL ATOP ALTAR, MOMENTUM BRINGING BOTH SELF AND VARIOUS ITEMS TO REST ACROSS ANCIENT ENGRAVINGS IN STONE FLOOR;

EXSANGUINATE 40-60% TOTAL BLOOD VOLUME AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE

Those were not the first steps as detailed in the scrolls - but they were the first steps for me.

In the time it took to get back to the bunker, Sam had come through like he always did, determining what had been awakened and what had to be done. Even so, it was Castiel who would be attending to the details. But first the angel had to attend to Dean.

I'd watched as Dean argued with the both of them for hours, about why I couldn't be brought back, then why I shouldn't be pyred and fired immediately. I’d watched for another few hours as they talked the whiskey, then the gun, out of his hand.

They'd cried. I'd cried, though they couldn't tell, and I couldn't tell that anything was hitting my cheeks. Dean tossed and turned so fiercely, his bed linens were damp with perspiration. It smelled of hundred proof.

So I'd laid by Sam that night. I was fascinated at how my presence made the breath coming from his lips look like thick clouds. I'd held my hand over his face, mesmerized at the little crystals forming in the lines of the salty tracks from his eyes, on the tips of his lashes.

I'd stopped when his breathing went shallow, jerking myself away from him so fast I shot myself clean through the wall of his bedroom. I had no concept of how long I had been there in the hallway, statue-still. I heard someone approach.

"They can't hear or see you," Castiel told me quietly, coming to stand by my side.

I looked down at my dress, my cardigan, the brown leather boots that came to my knees. The boots and the cardigan were old; the dress was brand new. I'd bought it for a special purpose, though I couldn't call up why right then. Not a crease, not a blemish, like I'd just taken it off the hanger.

I turned to my friend. "Will they, though? Because I'd like to tell them thank you. For being good friends. Make sure they know I don't blame them."

"Perhaps. If they choose to. But I can tell them."

"That's not the same."

"I'll tell them it came directly from you."

"Don't do that, Cas."

"What?"

"Play dumb about this stuff. About what guilt does to us carbon-basers."

A fraction of a tilt to the corner of his mouth and I wiggled my eyebrows, forcing the tilt into a small grin.

"I think I may miss you," he admitted.

I sighed, turned away, brought my eyes over to stare at the wall I'd come through.

"You don't need to do that," he informed me. "Breathing, that is."

I nodded. I was distracted. But I acknowledged him.

"Oh."

STEPS FIVE THROUGH TEN:

ALL VISCERA EXCEPTING HEART AND LUNGS SHOULD BE REMOVED, SOAKED IN HOLY OIL PRIOR TO BURNING, ALLOWING FIRE TO BURN OUT FOR COMPLETE DISPOSAL;

RINSE BRAIN, SKULL, AND BODY CAVITY WITH PREPARED MIXTURE, COATING LIBERALLY, LEAVING SKULL FILLED;

INFUSE VESSELS WITH SAME, FOLLOWED BY NATRON SOLUTION UNTIL RUNNING CLEAR, LEAVING HEART CHAMBERS FILLED, CLAMPING ENTRY AND EXIT POINTS;

PACK CAVITY WITH LINEN-WRAPPED POULTICES OF NOTED FLOWERS, HERBS, SPICES AND SALTS, BLESSED AND HEXED APPROPRIATELY;

CONTINUE TO PACK ANY REMAINING SPACES AND SURROUND EXTERNALLY WITH SALTED ICE;

REPEAT EVERY 36 HOURS FOR NO MORE BUT NO LESS THAN 70 DAYS

Each time the second hand hit twelve or the calendar flipped, signalling the arrival of the next stage, I'd tag along to one of the bunker's more clinical interrogation rooms, stick around to observe Cas' doings initially, but then I'd always have to go walk, get distance, get away.

Dean never joined me, but Sam did, wouldn't hesitate to follow after, though with my irritable, dissipating nature I'd tend to sail through trees and gates, adopting a hellish pace. He'd jog along for awhile. He'd give up long before the corn.

I kept making a beeline for it, I just loved it - rows and rows of thick, swaying curtains. I would wander, swaying with it, breaking into sprints for who knew how long, daydreaming. Maybe I'd turn north, run so far as to come upon Iowan ballplayers and field a few grounders. Maybe even stumble into a cult of misfit children, give them a stern talking-to on my way back to my friends.

I got lost a few times... maybe more than a few. They would call me back to them, and it burned the same way it had when I'd gotten stabbed. Before I woke up feeling hollow. At least the burn let me not be cold for a moment or two, and that felt nice until I saw them.

They would look at me so sadly, be so frustrated, try to bind me to something else. I didn't fight it, that I know for sure. I've always been happy to do anything for them, happy to help where I could, and that was a part of myself I would never let change.

Even so - my exploring days soon met their expiration date.

I had begun to associate the sound of the nighttime talk show hosts' voices with feeling itchy and heavy and blurry and nauseous... even angry. Then I'd feel something like sleepiness, but not - more like drugged, I supposed, but I'd never been drugged so I couldn't say. Never taken them, never had cause to need painkillers, never put under for surgery. I'd always been perfectly healthy.

Some sort of spirit sun-downing, the way Castiel talked. He would explain it to me, and while he was kind and patient, I got the impression this was not even close to the first instance he'd had to repeat himself. As time was passing, more and more often it seemed that I needed to stay in the motel. Whichever motel it was; they moved my body constantly, keeping it off some sort of otherworldly radar.

I shouldn't come to the bunker anymore, I'd be reminded. I would ask why, then Castiel would show me pictures on his phone, of the damage. Once I think he showed me pictures of bruises and cuts. I can't be certain. I don't know when exactly it was that they'd started locking me into the room when they left, with their drawn lines and invisible walls that sometimes worked, sometimes not-so-much.

All I know is that when I got the idea, Castiel had looked at me skeptically just for a few moments before nodding his head. He spoke for awhile, processing the pros and the cons aloud, eventually settling on reasons that amounted to practicing so I would be convincing, if need be, to... to the... But that wasn't my reasoning.

Mine was simpler: the nightly pull might not be preventable, but I wouldn't be able to reach the bunker and cause any upset if I were back in my body.

STEPS ELEVEN THROUGH FOURTEEN:

ETCH RIBS AS OUTLINED;

INTERNAL SUMMONING GLYPHS SHOULD BE PLACED VERTICALLY ON STERNUM ONLY;

EVERY EXPOSED SURFACE SHOULD BE WRAPPED IN PRE-SOAKED LINEN STRIPS AND SECURED WITH LIGHT RESIN;

CONTINUE MANUAL MANIPULATIONS AT MINIMUM EVERY TWELVE HOURS TO ENSURE PLIANCY AND REDUCE STIFFNESS

"Why not the eyes?"

Castiel glanced from the covered jar filled with a thick, opaque, honey-like fluid sitting on the bathroom counter and over to where I stood by the bathtub.

"Why not burn them, too?"

"It will be more convincing if they can see once the body---" He cut himself off immediately.

"It's okay, Cas."

"Once they inhabit the body."

"Makes sense," I responded, though none of it did.

I'd been hoping for something more along the Eva Perón spectrum versus Boris and Lon, but my friends’ guardian - my guardian - had truly done beautiful work. More than he'd had to, according to the scrolls. It was odd to look at myself from this perspective, odder still as the months went by and I looked less and less like me.

I finally had the cheekbones I'd wished for as a teen, those of a supermodel, high and sharp. My eye color had darkened. My skin was slowly changing, shrinking, tightening, though honestly not as much as I'd imagined it would've. I took it all in slowly, the first time I'd been able to make use of a mirror in months.

I edged out of the bathroom, stepping carefully around the large body bag left beside the door. Various apologies hit the air, someone scurried over to move it away, but I wasn't paying much mind. I was moving my neck back and forth gently, gingerly stretching my bandaged arms as I walked, concentrating on getting to the edge of the bed and sitting.

"Stiff?" asked Sam.

I opened my mouth to reply, but just a croak came out.

Castiel quickly brought one of the motel's plastic cups to my lips but it only contained a teaspoon or so of water. "Don't drink - just gargle a little, swish and spit."

I nodded, did as instructed, tried to commit the rule to my mental list:

NO DRINKING DON'T WANDER BREATHING NOT REQUIRED YOU ARE ALREADY GONE

The last one was mine. But it was the one, to me, that was most important, the one I could not forget. The one that tried to slip through the ever-widening gaps in my mind each time I saw my friends.

Even when they looked at me how they were just then - disgust, maybe awe. Hard to say. Functional eyes, yes, though still not working as well as they used to.

But I did see them. Through the window, when I would dare to peek out at my old world, once the sun had gone down. They were taking turns as my bodyguard, seeing as how I'd taken to having one again during the night.

Sam would stay awake the entire time, six-to-six, back against the passenger door, feet crossed and propped over the open-windowed driver's door, a tablet in his hands. Sometimes his knees would be pulled up and I knew a book must've been leaning against them, judging by the flashlight he'd have wedged in between tilted head and shoulder. He flipped pages quickly - that seemed familiar, him being a lightning-fast reader.

I think he may've seen me watching him once or twice. The shadows across his face, created by the small amount of light beneath it, definitely didn't do my waning vision any favors. If he did know, if it did bother him, he didn't let on. Being studied by a monster would've unnerved most anyone else.

Then there was Dean.

I suspected he was the one choosing the motels towards the end because once bodyguard duty became routine, I noticed there was always a bar nearby. He would have his fill of camping in the Impala, the restlessness coming on around eleven. By twelve I'd see him stalk off, striding out of the parking lot.

Brought a girl back with him once, but their groping and grinding across the trunk never made it to the backseat. Not once he spotted me in the window. He shoved her away abruptly, mouth moving, gesturing apologetically, making some excuse.

I was still standing there, running an ice cube across my parched lips, watching as she made her way back across the street to the bar, when he burst through the door so suddenly that the handle punched into the wall.

"What is wrong with you?!"

He yanked hard on worn paisley curtains, enough to where I heard a seam or two pop, hurrying to cover the windows.

I slipped the dwindling ice cube into my mouth, splintering it into little shards as I shifted to face him.

I normally would've shrugged but the upper body wrappings from that morning had apparently been applied with extra grit, and I normally would've sighed out of unbroken habit but rigid lungs made that list item close to null during bodily hours.

So I just looked at him blankly with my new dark eyes, and the dark circles I knew were under them, and the unmovable brows I knew were above them, blinking only as he shut the door quietly when he left, despite the lack of tears.

He was drunk enough not to care when he found me lying in the backseat upon his return from the bar on another night. He never locked that car. Never had, long as I'd known him, though I had no clue how long that had been.

I’d forgotten not to wander on my futile hunts for memories.

My legs wouldn't fit onto the seat as I couldn't bend them at the knees well, so they were dangling crookedly to the side, my feet mostly on the floorboard. I was surprised when he calmly climbed in, lifting my legs and placing them in his lap. A glimpse of familiarity there, then it disappeared.

I'd been fussing with the bandaging on my hands. The tiny bindings on my fingers were now loose and pooled around my knuckles. He noticed.

"Cas is gonna be pissed.”

I forced a few mouthfuls of air down; he watched and waited.

“Things feel strange."

"I bet."

"I mean literally." I reached to my side, ran a few fingers across the leather of the front seat.

"Tell me."

My chest pulled and ached inside with every inhalation of air. But I wanted to talk with him. I wanted to tell. So I took in as much as I could hold. "Like there's a piece of plastic wrap between my skin and... and... things. Even water. Even me."

I brought the fingers to the tip of my nose. That, and the areas around my eyes and mouth, were all that stayed uncovered. Then I brought my fingers to the ends of my hair, just below my shoulder.

It had grown long enough to keep it in a braid, which I could manage alone, even with my bandaged, barely-bendable fingers. It was silky, due to the oily potion Castiel had to apply to my scalp. It still felt fake to me, like the synthetic hair of a doll.

An audible gulp, followed shortly by a sniffle, hit my ears and I looked up to find tear-filled, bloodshot eyes looking into mine.

"You and Sam are brothers?" I asked.

He nodded.

"I think I had a crush on one of you."

He nodded again, and a hint of a smile appeared.

"But you were mad at each other the day I died."

It vanished.

"Why?"

He hesitated for a moment before he answered. "Because one of us finally got up the guts to ask you out. We were, ah..." Dean paused, chuckled lightly, ran a hand across his face. "We were both crushing on you, too. Never told each other."

"I don't... is that why I bought a new dress?"

Another nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

"Oh."

I was suddenly uncomfortable, began shifting around, and Dean started to reach out, then stopped.

"I won't come apart."

He helped me sit up, my back now against the seat, both of us staring out the front window. It started to sprinkle. But neither of us moved.

"I'm sorry."

I turned my head to find those eyes were glassier than ever. “I remember. You've said. Both of you,” I pointed out.

He touched my lips with his, don’t know how hard or soft, and he closed his eyes but I didn't close mine. I couldn't feel a thing. I hadn't felt anything before, either, when...

"Sam did that, too," I told him once he'd pulled away. "Last... no, not last night..." My mind drifted. "When he dropped off more salt for..."

"Must've been last week."

Dean's voice was cracking. That did trigger a memory. That it was unusual.

I touched a finger to the tip of his nose, ran it down, over his lips, then down again, over and across his chin. "You both feel like wax," I whispered.

"No, we don't," he whispered back.

STEPS FIFTEEN THROUGH TWENTY:

SOAK LINENS IN BLESSED HOLY OIL MIXTURE FOR NO LESS THAN ONE WEEK PRIOR TO PLANNED CEREMONY;

FINAL WRAPPINGS MUST BE TIGHT AROUND ALL EXTREMITIES AND CORE, USING COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF RESIN ON ALL EDGES AND ATOP EXTERNALLY WRITTEN SCRIPT;

INTERNAL CAVITIES AND VESSELS MUST BE FILLED TO CAPACITY WITH MIXTURE;

ANY EXPOSED PART OF BODY UNABLE TO BE WRAPPED MUST BE COATED THOROUGHLY WITH MIXTURE;

CLEANSING FIRE SHOULD ONLY BE CAST DURING LAST QUARTER OF SUMMONING RITUAL;

CAST FIRE WITH CAUTION TO IMMEDIATE SURROUNDINGS

"So then we'll... like a Viking funeral..."

"No, that's mostly... but there was... ship captain..."

My hearing was all but gone, though I found the two voices drifting over from some place nearby to be soothing. My vision was nothing to speak of, either - a milky film coated my eyes. But I could make out the bright blue ones looming above me.

I liked the voice of this man, too. And he was gently adjusting various parts of me, arranging things around me. He placed something small - a wildflower bouquet, he said - on my belly and folded my hands around it. He spoke the entire time, softly, but firmly.

He kept repeating his speech over and over again, so that what was left of my brain function would concentrate on three simple things:

PLAY DEAD HOLD TIGHT LET GO

I still had pieces of what he’d told me on our way to the lake floating in my mind. The parts he said I didn’t need to bother remembering now. How the show we'd been running, the ruse I'd survived and had been convalescing somewhere, was over.

The preservation had been taken to its limits. What could be done had been done, and now all that was left was to hope these ancient entities would fall for the trap my friends had laid. Surmise I'd finally succumbed to the damage their minions had inflicted upon my body that night over a year ago, and that a hunter's funeral awaited me.

They would not be foolish enough to believe that between their stolen scrolls and an angel of the lord, at least some semblance of an effort to thwart them wouldn't have been undertaken by the resilient, stubborn hunters. They would recognize this funeral of mine to be an odd take on the typical tradition. They would assume measures had been taken to trap them in the fire.

They would have to be fast. And they would have to take the risk. They had no choice but to try.

All because it was my blood that flooded their carvings, my body that had lain across their altar, and my mummified shell was the only one that would do, that could serve as their earthly temple.

I'd kept trying to resurrect the memories of that night, the night I was on a first date with a friend who may've become more. This was the only thing the sky-eyed caretaker never had to repeat or remind me of - I had managed to hold on to that one memory above all. I was with the ones who had cared for me, who had fought for me, who fought for me still, even in death.

And now I was to fight with every piece of spirit I had left to keep what would soon possess my body inside when they would most certainly attempt to flee, once... once...

“Once you feel them, hold tight, just for a second,” the deepest voice ordered gruffly, as the three of them guided the small boat into the lake.

"Then you'll feel warm," said the voice coming from the largest shadow. "You can leave then - they won't come with you."

"I'll meet you after," said the caretaker as he leaned over me, one last promise before he closed my eyelids.

A few grunts along with the heaving, then a final shove and out into the water I sailed. I enjoyed the swaying. It was peaceful. As stuffed and bound as I was, there was comfort.

It didn't hurt. I wish I could've called out to them and let them know, though my filled-to-the-brim, sealed-lipped state wouldn't have allowed it. Even if I'd had the energy to spare.

Whoever these old troublemakers were, well, maybe they were running low on energy, too. Or maybe I just had more than they'd ever had to begin with. But it didn't matter either way.

When the hunters on the shore let loose their arrows, we were all toast.

I inhaled deeply, letting my eyes close as I thought. I'm not sure how long I was like that, thinking too hard, trying to recall the last time I'd smelled that mix of hops and peanuts and cigarettes. Never even heard the approaching footsteps.

"Stop that."

"Why?"

"Because it ain't right, a face like yours not having a smile on it."

I opened my eyes, took in the cocky grin, then took the small plastic card from the outstretched hand. A glance at what was written there, then I looked up, raised an eyebrow. "This reminds me of something."

"What's that?"

"I'm gonna keep on loving you."

"Well, wow, that's a little forward."

"Is it, Kevin? Oh, sorry, Mr. Cronin."

The cocky grin faded into a sheepish one.

"Yeah, I get that a lot, see---"

"Stop."

He did, but only briefly. "We're cousins, and my parents were set on the name, and how were they supposed to know he'd end up---"

"You know, I can tell that you are old enough to ride this ride, so I don't get why the fake I.D., but your puppy here I'm not so sure about, and I really hope he's not about to try and screw me over, too."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flirty one's taller, shaggy-haired companion immediately re-fold his wallet, casually return it to his back pocket.

"Maybe a just a couple beers, huh? We tip real good, and then we'll be outta your---"

I frowned, feeling oddly out-of-place, my head and then my eyes drifting down, past the taps, past the edge of bar, watched as the plastic card slipped from my fingers and hit the sticky floor. My hands reflexively balled into fists and I squeezed my eyes shut. "Stop! Please."

The immediate pin-drop quiet and the echo of my 'please' made my eyes go wide. But an unfamiliar sound, something flapping, rustling, is what made my head snap up and over to my right.

Everyone and everything was frozen, ricocheting pool balls to mid-air darts, all except one trench-coated patron at the far end who was seated on a stool, calmly sipping a pilsner I hadn't poured. I walked over, felt the smile stretching across my face as I came to a stop in front of him.

"I meant to meet you sooner, my apologies for the delay," he said, nothing but sincerity in those bright baby blues.

"I couldn't tell," I answered honestly. "It's good to see you. It's good to see..."

My thoughts drifted as I glanced to my left, to where they stood. And just like that, I remembered everything, all in the time it took to turn my head back to him - but he'd already turned, too, walked off without waiting to see if I was going to say anything else. I was so bad with that - moving too slowly, not reacting quickly enough - and the thought chilled me to my core.

"Cas, are they-- are they really here?" I called after him.

Castiel paused, not but a few steps from the door, and I took the opportunity to dash out from behind the bar and rush to his side, standing in front of the door as if I could block his exit.

"Did I mess it up?"

A slight frown came across his face and he tilted his head a bit as he took in what I knew was absolute fear radiating off of me.

"I don't mean that night, I know I messed up then, not getting out of the way when those people, when those things were---"

"Stop."

I did. He brought his hands to my shoulders, gave them a reassuring squeeze. He waited til he knew he had my complete attention before he spoke.

"This place is whatever you want it to be. Whatever you choose to do. Anyone you'd like to have with you."

I nodded slowly, processing his words. Then I looked around. Some paradise I'd created - an afterlife in the bartending job from my early twenties that I'd hated with a passion. I gasped, snapped my fingers as it hit me. What it was, that scene I'd stepped away from. It was a re-enactment of the first time I'd laid eyes on the Winchester brothers. The seconds that had snowballed into years.

There'd been adventures and arguments - and laughter, to be sure - and I'd certainly seen the heartaches firsthand... all that sadness. It had to have been the sadness that was tripping me up. Why that part had to come along for the ride. And maybe Castiel had read my thoughts because he leaned in close, gave me one final reminder:

"You don't have to remember everything."

Suddenly I was bounding towards the bar again, crunching fallen peanut shells under my boots as the sounds of conversation, then the music from the jukebox, resumed. I was grinning happily, excited to tell Dean and Sam their drinks were coming right up, but with one condition. They'd owe me a story about those fake I.D.s and what had brought them to the middle-of-nowhere joint that night.

This I wanted to remember, those stories over beers, the phony ones that gradually turned into truth. The eating road food and the sleeping in motels, the hunts and the saved lives, all those parts that were pushing back in, filling up my mind. I knew how to hold on and I wasn’t letting a bit of it spill out.

Well. Mostly. Could not for the life of me hold on to the parts about dying.

Still. I knew it was only real for me, just like I knew that would eventually change. Because they'd turn up again. One of them. Both of them. At some point.

So for now, the angel went back to be with my friends.

See Nash Write : Master / See Nash Write : Mobile

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#Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN Fanfic #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Castiel #Nash Writes

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the--blackdahlia · 7 years

Text

Shake it Off Chapter 4 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Shake it Off Chapter 4

Summary: The reader decides to get rid of the Mark of Cain for Dean using witchcraft, not realizing what she's getting herself into.

Warnings: None that I can think of

Dean set in the library, staring at the wall. He hadn’t quite been the same since (y/n) stole the mark and ran. He knew she wanted to protect him, but he was supposed to be protecting her. He wanted her to come home, where he knew she was safe. He hadn’t talked to Cas very much in the past year. It tore him up to know that Cas helped her escape, even though he knew that with the mark and how firey (Y/n)’s soul was anyway, that the angel had probably been scared that she would cut his wings off with a hot butter knife.

“Dean.” Sam said, standing in the doorway of the library. “Dean.” He said again when he brother didn’t answer him.

“What?” Dean snapped at him. Sam walked in, carrying his laptop.

“I think I might have found us a case.” Sam said softly. Dean shook his head.

“I don’t want a damn case Sam.” He growled. “I want (Y/n) to come home.”

“It’s in Sheridan, Indiana.” Sam explained, ignoring Dean’s comment.

“I don’t care.” Dean said.

“Apparently, there’s a woman there that save a guy’s life, injured herself, then stood up completely healed and ran off.” Sam said. “Sound familiar?”

“The mark doesn’t let the host die.” Dean said. “Or get injured really.” Sam nodded. “You think that’s (Y/n)?”

“It’s the best shot we’ve had in months Dean.” Sam said. “Worst case scenario, it’s not her and we have to gank whatever it is that lives there.” Dean nodded and stood up.

“How far is it to Sheridan? I have to fill Baby up.” Sam got on Google to calculate their route and miles. Man, he loved the internet.

“It’ll take us about ten hours.” Sam said. “Would be faster if you would just talk to Cas.”

“No.” Dean said. “He got us into this mess in the first place. I don’t need his help.”

“He’s your friend Dean. Our friend.”

“He was my friend.” Dean said, heading out of the library. Sam followed after him.

“You can’t keep blaming him for what happened.” Sam told him as he followed him around the bunker, Dean trying to get ready for the trip ahead.

“He could have used his angel mojo to knock her out or something. He should’ve kept her here instead of sending her off to, where was it again?”

“Sheridan, Indiana.”

“Yeah. Instead of sending her off to Sheridan, Indiana.” Sam sighed and turned to let Dean pack in peace. Dean pulled clothes out of his dresser and packed them into a duffle. As he did, the dresser shook some and something fell off the top onto the floor. Dean glanced down and froze.

It was (Y/n)’s bracelet.

He reached down and grabbed the silver piece. It was still as shiny as the day he gave it to her. He promised her it would keep her safe from harm. And here it was, laying in the bunker while she was off by herself. Dean set down on the bed. What if she didn’t want him to come after her? What if the mark did something different to her than it did to him? He closed his eyes for a second, pushing all those questions out. He didn’t need those questions right now. He just wanted to get to Indiana to see if that was her.

“You ready?” Sam asked, holding his own bag as he stood in Dean’s doorway. Dean looked up and Sam saw that there were tears in his eyes, but refused to be shed.

“Yeah just a second.” Dean sighed, zipping up his duffle and hoisting it over his shoulder. Sam looked down at him, seeing something in his other hand.

“Hey, what’s that?” Sam asked, pointing at his hand. Dean looked down.

“Nothing.” He said, shoving the bracelet inside his pocket. “Let’s get this show on the road, okay? We’re burning daylight.” Sam didn’t say anymore as they made their way to the garage. Dean tossed his bag into the back and headed towards the driver’s side while Sam put his own away. Once Dean had settled into his seat, he fished the bracelet out of his pocket and hung it from the rearview mirror. Sam got into the Impala and saw it there.

“She’s coming home Dean.” Sam said. Dean just turned on the car.

“I hope so.” He said, turning on the radio and heading out of the bunker. He needed to fill up the car and get some things for the road, but the whole time his mind kept wandering to (Y/n). He wondered how she would react when she saw him. What if she didn’t want to see him?

Sam spent a majority of the trip staring out the window, trying to figure out the best way to help Dean if it wasn’t (Y/n), or if it was and she wanted them to go away. He stared out the window as corn fields turned to soybeans and back. They reached the Indiana, Illinois line when Dean stopped the car to get more gas and some food.

“You okay?” Sam asked. Dean sighed.

“The closer we get, the more I keep wondering if she will even be happy to see us…” Sam nodded and went inside to pay for the gas and to grab some snacks. Dean leaned up against the Impala and stared up at the sky for a second. In about an hour and a half, he would be pulling into Sheridan. Or the next town over, because Sheridan didn’t even have as much as a motel. It was a small farming community that relied on the business from factories to keep it afloat. The same kind of place that (Y/n) always wanted to settle down in.

“Ready?” Sam asked, throwing Dean a bag of jerky. Dean nodded and climbed back into the car. “Are you sure you want to do this? You could head up to Chicago for a break and I could go to Sheridan to see if it’s her or not.”

“No.” Dean said. “I’m not ready to do this, but I need to. I need to see her and make sure she’s okay.” Sam nodded. Dean pulled back out onto the road and headed into Indiana. This place still brought a sour taste into Dean’s mouth. Outside of Kansas, this place had so many memories for him and Sam, but mainly him. Why, of all places in the world, let alone the US, did (Y/n) have to pick Indiana to run to? He was just thankful it wasn’t Cicero. He might just leave her there if it was.

“Want to go get a room for the night and we’ll start the search fresh tomorrow?” Sam asked. Dean sighed. As much as he wanted to find her tonight, he knew it wasn’t the best idea.

“Yeah, might as well.” Dean said. “I’ve come this far already. I’ve already waited a year. I don’t think eight more hours will hurt.”

“Good.” Sam said. He directed Dean on where to go, heading him in the direction of a larger town southeast of Sheridan. They checked into a room and Sam hit the showers while Dean set down on his bed. It felt like many lifetimes ago when this was his home. A random motel in a random town with Sam sleeping on the bed across from his. There was no (y/n), no Cas, nothing. He sighed and laid back on the bed, falling asleep before Sam even left the shower.

Tag List: @amazingmontse @petrovadixon @smoothdogsgirl @policeofficerdean @castielspahdehrah @theas-bedtime-stories @tornjeansandabrokenheart

#dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #reader #reader insert #fanfiction #supernatural #Jensen Ackles #shake it off

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