#Dean 'I prayed to you. I killed my way to you. did you hear my prayers?' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seraphic-elysian · 3 months

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@foolondahill17 have my attempt at the prompt you put about Dean sprinting to Cas. It's not perfect and I ended it without a resolution as I wanna write this as a whole ass fic but I really wanted to share this with you since your idea inspired the hell out of me. ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ It happens in a moment. A heartbeat trapped between the milliseconds of time. Dean turns in the loose grip of his brother’s hands, green eyes trained on the golden crack of light that splits their world open to another, waiting for the sign of his angel. His heart is racing within his chest, adrenaline keeping him sharp and steady, as he waits with bated breath for his angel to emerge through the light. The image of Castiel stalking toward Lucifer as Sam pulls him to the portal is burned into his eyelids. He knows that it is almost a sickening parallel of the way that he had pulled Sam from his burning apartment all of those years ago but he can only pray that Castiel will not be killed. That he will not have to suffer the same agonizing heartbreak that Sam did when Jessica died. He refuses to entertain the thought of something happening to the angel, of him dying or being hurt while in the other world. That will not happen.

It cannot.

Dean steps close enough to the portal that he can hear the rushing of the wind and smell the heavy scent of gunpowder on the breeze. It pulls at his clothing in a tantalizing lure, a promise of taking him to where his angel is, but he refuses. He will not step back through the portal and waste the safety that Castiel had given him.

Sam’s voice is nothing but a gurgle of noises behind him but he does not need to hear him to understand what he is saying. Dean knows that he is too close to the portal for his brother to feel confident that he will not go through it to find Castiel. He knows that he becomes irrational and impulsive when his angel is in danger. That he has, in the past, openly let others be hurt and killed if it meant that those he cares about will be safe. Dean also knows that he has a history of suicidal tendencies, of throwing himself in front of others to take a hit or killing himself to trade someone else's life for his own, and that Sam has been witness to him doing that several times. And while he is aware that he would not hesitate to end his life if it meant that the angel would return safe and alive, he does not feel the need to do so. Not right now.

“Don’t be stupid, Dean! Cas is capable!” Sam nearly screams the words to him, voice only barely heard over the rushing noise in Dean’s ears.

And of course he is. Dean knows better than anyone what Castiel is capable of and how strong and intelligent the angel is. But even having the knowledge of that will not stop him from worrying about him. It will not stop him from desperately trying to keep the angel by his side where Dean is able to keep him safe.

After all, how can anyone act normal and as though the world is not on the verge of ending when the living personification of their heart is facing off against an archangel?

The portal flares a brilliant gold that burns his eyes and Dean’s breath leaves his lungs in a shaky exhale as Castiel appears in front of him. There is blood stained along his trench coat, his black curls are covered in dust, and his face is streaked with dirt but Dean has never seen anything more beautiful. Exhausted blue eyes meet his own and something that Castiel sees on his face makes the angel’s brows furrow and him to step closer to Dean. They are close enough that he can feel heat radiating off of the angel and the exhalation of his breath ghosting across his face and, for the first time, Dean does not step back or snap at the angel. No, he only sways forward as he is captured by Castiel’s orbit. He surrenders to the feelings that he has in his chest, this desire to put himself out there and show the other how he feels.

“D-”

Castiel cuts himself off as an angel blade pierces through the bottom of his chest with a sickening squelch. The shining metal is clean as it slides through the angel’s body without resistance before it is yanked out violently. Crimson stains his white dress shirt and Castiel’s grace flares brightly through the gaping wound. Dean is moving before he can think, arms gathering the angel against his chest as he sags, and pressing his hand against the bleeding wound on his back. He does not see where Lucifer goes as the angel saunters off but he knows that Sam will watch his back. Something heavy and soft curls over his arms and back, engulfing him in the scent of honeysuckles and wildflowers, but when he looks there is nothing there. The smell of Castiel’s grace slowly begins to turn acrid as his grace begins to burn and Dean collapses to his knees.

“Get away,” Castiel whines, weak hands pushing against Dean’s chest, “I can’t hold it back anymore. Get away!”

Dean shakes his head and tightens his grip on the angel, “No!”

A whine escapes Castiel’s throat as the light flares up brighter and hotter, escaping from his mouth and eyes. The invisible objects that he feels against him heat up rapidly, searing his skin even through his clothing, and the heat and light reaches its apex in a wave of agony before it shatters. A pained howl leaves his lips as fire scorches him, consuming him in a decimating blaze that he cannot escape. His eyes burn even through his closed lids and he turns his face away from the sharp explosion of light. It seems as though it takes forever before it clears, taking the scorching heat with it, and Dean weakly lays Castiel’s body down. He presses his forehead down against the soft cotton of his dress shirt as he processes the hell that he just went through.

Castiel is dead. There is no denying that, not after what he just experienced. The angel is gone in a shattering of holy light and the smell of scorched feathers. His shaking fingers come up and tangle in the rough wool of the trench coat as he raises his face, desperate to see confirmation that Lucifer has murdered Castiel. He needs to memorize the pattern of his beautiful wings that will be burned into the dirt of this little home. Sliding his eyes open slowly, he sees…nothing. An unending wall of bright white light fills his vision and does not leave no matter how much he blinks or shakes his head. He panics, sucking in a startled breath, body freezing in fear at the implications of what this means.

Turning his head toward where he remembers his brother standing, he asks, “Sam?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean!” Sam’s voice is rough with anger as he stomps up to where Dean is kneeling, “You know what happens when an angel dies. You’ve fucking seen that happen so many times! So, what the hell were you thinking being right at the center of that? Didn’t you think for a second about what that would do to you?”

“It’s Cas, Sammy,” his excuse sounds broken as it falls through his lips. He is in agony, arms and back still burning from the blaze that had licked across his skin, “I couldn’t just-”

“How many times has he died before and you’ve stayed back from it? How many times has he been killed like this and you’ve not put yourself at the center of his grace exploding?” Sam is yelling now, anger making him sound almost terrifyingly like John, and Dean feels far too vulnerable here on the ground, “I don’t even know how we’re going to heal that. Or if we even can. Fuck, Dean, we didn’t need this on top of everything else!”

He takes Sam’s anger without question or complaint. He knows that he messed up and that he injured himself right when they are about to be dealing with Lucifer. He knows that his vision being gone, however temporary this is, will make him a vulnerability and a liability. It is now completely up to Sam to be able to defend not only himself but Dean as well.

“I should be able to see again in a few days,” he responds once Sam pauses to take a breath, “We just have to lay low inside of the Bunker until then. I know I messed up, Sammy, okay?”

“You can’t see?” Sam is suddenly in his space, calloused hand gripping his chin tightly, and Dean stifles a flinch. His head is tilted back and forth and he feels his brother messing with his eyelids. It is incredibly uncomfortable to not be able to see what Sam is doing but he knows that he is in safe hands, “Is it just blurry or is it fully gone?”

“I can’t see anything,” he admits as Sam wipes something off of his cheek, “it’s nothing but white.”

Sam sucks in a startled breath, hands stilling against his face, before he moves and cleans off his other cheek. “Okay, I…I didn’t realize that you were blind.”

“Then what were you talking about?”

Sam does not answer right away and Dean huffs in frustration. He hates not being able to see his brother’s face and be able to read him. He has always relied on the fact that Sam is an open book to him, that he rarely hides what he is thinking and feeling, and now having that taken away from him makes him feel as though he is lost at sea without a life raft.

The trench coat is warm within the grasp of his fingers but he forces himself to release it, to smooth it back into place despite the shake in his hands. His palm presses against the flat expanse of Castiel’s chest and something inside of him burns at the fact that he cannot feel his heart beating or the rise and fall of his chest. That he can feel the heat dissipating from his body, leaving it cold and empty. There is something within the cavern of his chest that feels just as hollow as the body in front of him, something along his soul that screams at the idea of Castiel being gone, but he can do nothing about that. There is no cure or bandage that can heal a broken heart.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches away from it violently, “What the fuck, Sam?”

“You know how angel wings are burned into the ground when they die?” Sam asks gently, continuing when Dean nods in confusion, “Dean…Cas’s wings aren’t…they…they’re burned into your skin, dude. From the back of your hands, up your arms, and across your back to either side of your spine.”

“But I’m wearing clothes,” Dean argues weakly, “How could they have burned through that?”

His brother exhales shakily, “Couldn’t his wings phase through things like that?”

The fingers of his right hand skirt over to his left, drifting across the back of it, and a pained noise leaves his lips as his skin flares up in red hot pain at the touch. He shakes his head, refusing to accept what Sam is telling him. There is no way that he is carrying the shadow-burn of his angel’s wings on his body. He is not holy enough, not good enough, to carry the image of that burned onto his skin.

Castiel deserves to have something more than Dean Winchester acting as a living tombstone.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Sam's hands grip his elbows and pulls him to his feet, "Once we do that, we can get Cas and Kelly ready to be put to rest."

Dean grabs onto his brother tightly, resisting the guiding hand that is pulling him toward the house. He does not want to leave Castiel lying here, alone, on the dirt. There will need to be a pyre and Castiel's body will need to be prepped for that but he does not think he has the strength to leave him. Not anymore.

"I can't," His voice catches in his throat, "Sam, I can't leave him."

He can see the furrow of Sam's brow in his mind as his brother responds, "Why not?"

"I love him," it falls from his lips like water, easy and free-flowing, "I love him so much I don't know how the hell I'm able to breathe. I can't just..."

"Okay, yeah, I get it," Sam answers, "How long have you...?"

Dean tries to smile but it pulls at his face wrong, lips twisting into more of a grimace. He turns his face toward the ground and welcomes the white void that consumes his vision. It is much easier to be able to be this open with his brother when he is unable to see his facial expressions.

"Years," he exhales heavily, the word nothing more than a whisper on the breeze.

Sam does not answer him but he does help Dean back onto the ground by his angel's body. His hands are warm as they squeeze his elbows once before removing them.

"Let me go get the stuff to prepare his body, okay? You can do it here and I'll handle Kelly."

"What about Jack?"

Sam huffs, "I have no idea what we're going to do."

"We raise him. We give him the childhood we didn't have. He chose Cas as his father and I'm not going to abandon his child just because his sperm donor is Satan himself." Dean tells him, "We educate him, we tell him about the spooky shit and about the stuff that lurks in the dark. We make sure that he's able to handle himself if he ever winds up on a hunt."

"And we tell him about Cas."

He nods, hand reaching out until it lands on Castiel's arm, "Yeah, we tell him about Cas."

Sam leaves him then, footsteps trailing off toward the house. Dean is left in the dirt, surrounded by the sound of waves lapping at the shore of the lake and insects buzzing around him. It feels wrong, to experience this peaceful moment while he kneels at the side of his fallen person. Castiel should be here. He should be the one that teaches Jack about humanity and the world around them. He should be the one to choose what, if any, of the hunting world that Jack learns. He should teach him about bees and flowers and the names of the constellations in the sky.

He should be here, raising the child that he loves, instead of it falling to Dean.

But he is not. He is dead, killed because he ensured that everyone got to safety. And now it is up to Dean to raise Jack.

He spends the next hour gently cleaning Castiel's body with the warm water and cloths that Sam brought him. The dirt and blood is washed from his skin as best that Dean can while his vision is gone before Sam helps him wrap and secure his body in a soft fabric.

Together, they lift his body between them and Sam guides him to the pyre, leaving him to lay Castiel down inside of it alone. The angel is heavy in his arms and makes his wounds radiate agony as they are agitated but he does not care. There will be time for him to heal, for his wounds to be cleaned and bandaged. But not right now. Not when he is resting the love of his life inside of a tomb made of wood, waiting for him to be set ablaze.

The fire is hot on his face as he stares unseeingly in the direction of it. Jack and Sam are on the other side of the pyre, talking quietly to each other, and Dean wishes that he had the strength to go join them. To find comfort in knowing that they are mourning for the angel together. He could go to them, he knows that, but if he moves from this spot he is not sure that he will be able to keep himself from shattering. The reality of Castiel being gone has not fully hit yet and he knows that the moment the fire burns down, the moment that the only thing left of Castiel is the feathers burned into Dean's skin and the ashes on the wind, that he will he consumed by grief. That the only thing he will be able to feel is the hollow void in his chest that signifies that his angel is gone.

"Can I stay here with you?"

Dean flinches at the soft voice that speaks, turning his head in Jack's direction. He does not respond to him, too afraid that he will say something he does not mean or begin to cry if he does, so he nods his agreement. The kid steps closer to him and his hand slips into Dean's. He takes in a deep breath and squeezes that hand gently, leaving them clasped at his side.

"He loved you," Dean tells him hours later when the fire has died down to almost nothing. Sam had stepped away to handle something some time ago so it is only the two of them left by the angel's side, "You should have your parents here to raise you. You shouldn't have to grow up without them."

Jack is silent for a moment before he speaks, "I have you."

"Yeah, kid, you do."

"He loved you, too," Jack tells him, as though those words do not sends spiderweb cracks along the wall holding his emotions back.

He stays quiet, unable to respond even if he desired to, and they stand there together until Jack tells him that the fire is gone.

Today he will kneel in the ashes of his lover's pyre, gathering the remains of him with clumsy hands, as their child holds the glass jar steady for him to put the ashes in. He will seal up that jar and cling to it for the several hour long drive it will take for them to reach the Bunker.

And, when he is led to his room by his brother, letting him sit the jar down upon his nightstand, Dean will finally allow himself to break.

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #fanfic #spn #ficlet #sam winchester #jack kline #angst #major character death #major character injury #tw blood #Castiel's Wings #shitty writing #I really need more than three hours of sleep #I wrote this after having an urge to go fist fight god #though I'm ready to fist fight tumblr too since it keeps messing with my posts

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carrythatwayt · 2 years

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I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. (4x01)

You don't think you deserve to be saved... (4x01)

Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul? (4x07)

I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. (4x16)

For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this. (4x16)

We've been through much together you and I. (4x22)

I'm hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you... (5x02)

So, what, I’m Thelma and you’re Louise and we’re just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together? (5x03)

I’ll just wait here then. (5x04)

What? I like past you. (5x04)

Don’t ever change. (5x04)

I rebelled for this?! So that you could surrender to them? I gave everything for you. (5x20)

Dean and I do share a more profound bond. (6x03)

I wish circumstances were different. Much of the time I’d rather be here. (6x10)

So I went to an old friend for help. But, watching him, I stopped. Everything he sacrificed and I was about to ask him for more. (6x20)

And the worst part was Dean, trying so hard to be loyal, with every instinct telling him otherwise. (6x20)

I’m doing this for you, Dean. I’m doing this because of you. (6x20)

I was there. Where were you? (6x20)

Dean, I do everything you ask. I always come when you call. (6x21)

Don't make me lose you too. (6x22)

I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you. (7x01)

You just met yourself. I've known you for years. (7x17)

Part of me always believed that you’d come back. (7x17)

I'll go with you. And I'll do my best. (7x23)

I'd rather have you, cursed or not. (7x23)

Cas, we're getting out of here. We're going home. (8x02)

I prayed to you Cas, every night. (8x02)

Let me bottom-line it for you. I'm not leaving here without you. Understand? (8x02)

I have a price on my head and I’ve been trying to stay one step ahead of them. To keep them away from you. (8x02)

Cas, buddy, I need you. (8x02)

Cas... we're gonna shove your ass back through the eye of that needle if it kills all three of us. (8x05)

...thank you, for everything. (8x07)

Cas...I got you, hold on! (8x07)

...you can't save everyone my friend, though you try. (8x07)

I don't need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don't need it! (8x07)

I did everything I could to get you out – everything! I did not leave you. (8x07)

Yes, I am with you. (8x07)

I’ll watch over you. (8x08)

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you're back, I'm thrilled (8x08)

I won't hurt Dean. (8x17)

Cas, fight this! This is not you! Fight it! Cas. I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. Cas… It's me. We’re family. We need you. I need you. (8x17)

Dean, I can go with you. (8x22)

Dean. I'm sorry. For everything. (8x22)

Please man I need you here (9x01)

Cas? Cas!.... Never do that again! (9x03)

Dean, you know I always appreciate our talks, our time together. (9x03)

Nobody wants him here more than I do. (9x04)

Sorry I told you to go. I know it's been hard on you, you know, on your own. Well, you're adapting. I'm proud of you. (9x06)

I came as soon as you called. (9x10)

Cas, you just gave up an entire army for one guy. (9x22)

...everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I’m the one who will have to watch you murder the world. So, if there’s even a small chance that we can save you, I won’t let you walk out of this room. (10x22)

Dean. I don't wanna have to hurt you. (10x22)

No, Dean. Please. (10x22)

It?" It's not an "it," Sam. It's Cas...Cas is family. (11x18)

I could go with you. (11x23)

Morning, sunshine. Some coffee? (12x03)

And Cast—Cas is my best friend. (12x11)

My shy but devastatingly handsome friend. (12x12)

I love you… I love you all. (12x12)

It's a gift, you keep those. (12x19)

And I just wanted, I needed to come back here with a win for you. (12x19)

We’ve lost everything. And now you’re gonna bring him back. Okay? You’re gonna bring back Cas... (13x01)

It’s good to have you back. (13x06)

Cas, you wanna try this angel thing, then go for it. Just don’t get dead again. (13x19)

Dean. You asked "What about this is real?" We are. (15x02)

Cas, I hope you can hear me… that wherever you are, it’s not too late. I should’ve stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong. I… I don’t know why I get so angry. I just know… I know that it’s… i-it’s just always been there. And when things go bad, it just… it comes out. And I can’t… I can’t stop it. No matter how… how bad I want to, I just can’t stop it. And… And I… I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I’m sorry it took me so long… I’m sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I’m… I’m so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me. (15x09)

You don’t have to say it. I heard your prayer. (15x09)

What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have. But I think I know... I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it.

I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken. You're "daddy's blunt instrument." And you think that hate and anger, that's... That's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. (he smiles, crying now) You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean.

I love you. (15x18)

Updated to include more quotes. Due to the deluge of script leaks showing edited or censored destiel dialogue, I decided it would be cathartic to collate the dialogue that did make it on the show. Data crunch: Dialogue spoken only by Cas and Dean. 65 total quotes: 34 Cas (52%), 31 Dean (48%).

#destiel quotes #otp i love you #otp profound bond #otp: i need you #dean winchester #castiel

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laurel-finch · 2 months

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'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch10: Winds of Change

Summary: Returning to the Winchesters does not meet expectations... Referenced Episodes: S1 E16 "Shadow" CW: Alcohol. Arguing. Normal Supernatural things. Another ridiculously long chapter, my b. Word Count: 8209 Recommended Song: Winds of Change -- Scorpions Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

I gnawed on my lower lip as I jammed another number into my phone, praying that this time one of the brother’s would pick up. I had a handful of Dean’s phone numbers and only two of Sam’s, but I knew they had more that they hadn’t felt the need to share with me. It all came down to which phone they were actively using for the case they were on. There was no consistency with them.

I glared down at the number I knew to be linked to Dean’s ATF persona. There was a chance he would answer, but it was slim. I really needed a better way to get ahold of the brothers. I sighed and hoped I would have better luck with Sam as I dialed one of his numbers next.

After six long rings, the call dropped. No answer. I pinched the bridge of my nose and kicked at a pebble in the middle of the deserted motel parking lot. Apparently, I'd need to call all of their numbers.

Three numbers in I finally heard a receiving click on the other end and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hello?" came Sam's gruff voice on the other end. I was surprised to hear his voice instead of his older brother's.

"Sam? Hey, it’s me," I heard a lot of shuffling from the other end, like he had bolted upright from shock. “Where, um… where are you guys?”

Sam was silent for a beat before speaking again. "Is everything alright?" I flinched at the wariness in his tone.

"I'm fine, Sam. Better than fine actually," I answered quietly. I placed my other hand over the speaker of the phone and turned my back to the motel parking lot conspiratorially. My voice dropped to a soft tone. "Look, I… I know it’s been a while and you probably don’t want to see me, but-"

"I do," he interjected quickly and I clamped my mouth shut. "Believe me, I do- we do. But what about your pack? And, well… I mean, Dean’s pretty pissed. He’s been pissed. He’s been throwing himself into this hunt for dad."

I frowned at the worn pavement beneath my feet. I figured he would be mad at me, but facing the reality of the situation hurt regardless. Maybe I could just… ignore it all. Go back to my pack, forget it ever happened. Like I never met them. Would that be easier?

No. No, that would hurt more. I mentally cursed myself for getting so attached. "Did you tell him why?”

"Yeah, yeah I tried to explain it to him. But… well, look at it from his perspective. Dean’s spent his whole life killing, and the one time he decides not to…" he sounded distraught and I heard more shuffling from the other end.

He didn’t need to finish his thought for me to know what he meant. Dean had done me a favor by not killing me when we first met. At the time it hadn’t felt like much of a favor – maybe death would have been safer. But now, with how much our lives had changed… it was understandable that he was frustrated. The one different choice he made led to a human being killed and me running off without a word.

I fell silent, pondering what to say next. How was I supposed to explain to them why I left? I think Sam understood better than he was letting on. It wasn’t too dissimilar to why he left for college, although his reasoning wasn’t nearly as bloody. But Dean… it made sense that he would be hurt…

"I want to see you, Sam – both of you. I want to apologize to Dean, but I can't do that unless I see him."

Sam sighed from the other end. "OK. I'll… keep you updated on where we are.”

After a flood of profuse thank-yous and Sam's chuckles, the line finally went dead. He had given me a location amongst my gratitude and I was already slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

—

After half a day of travel, the sun was setting and I was thoroughly exhausted. Upon seeing the welcome sign that coaxed me into the small city I stretched my arms high above my head and allowed myself to slow to a steady walking pace.

Oddly enough, my heart felt heavy, like something severe was weighing on me. It was... an odd sensation that I hadn't felt in a very long time - not since my parents were still with me. Oddly enough, it was less of a weighing feeling and more of a tug. The tug itself was heavy, and it felt like it was pulling on a part of me that I didn't want to be released.

Something didn’t feel right.

I hummed and frowned slightly, my eyebrows creasing with worry. Maybe it was a mistake to come looking for the Winchesters before the pack? I had half a mind to turn back, but... I still didn't feel ready. If Sam and Dean were afraid of what I had done, how would my pack feel? They depended on the stability and different lifestyle my home provided. I kicked the occasional large stone out of my way as I traipsed down the road, headed toward whatever lay at the end of it. Hopefully a warm bed.

After another thirty minutes of walking, something I grumbled about to myself, I finally spotted dim lights behind a row of thick pine trees. My ears pricked at the sound of the engines roaring to life in the early night, something that oddly warmed my heart and made me want to prance. It wasn't long after that the stench of alcohol hit my nose.

The bar was a brick building on the edge of town, a neon sign glowing above the door and the building itself set into the corner of the block. The occasional car or motorcycle was parked out front. I smiled and brushed my hand affectionately over the front of an older motorcycle – I had always wanted to learn how to ride them. I wondered what it felt like to be on something so small, barrelling down a highway faster than I could run.

My eyes rose, scanning the line of cars until they settled on a sleek older model across the street. My eyes widened and a grin tore across my face. It was the Impala.

I whirled toward the door so fast that I nearly fell over, tripping over my own feet like a stumbling drunk. My senses dulled as the stench of alcohol hit my nose once again. The harsh smell practically threw me off my feet and made my eyes water. I couldn't place any other scent amongst the heavy, bourbon-filled air and that alone sunk anxious claws into my lungs, oxygen being stolen from them.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, grounding myself. The overwhelming scents and smells were driving my wolfish senses crazy, as they still hadn't calmed from my last escapade with the brothers. It had been weeks since I was in a room with this many people. I felt small and large at the same time. Small with worry and nerves. Large with fearsome hunger.

I rolled my shoulders and took a few more deep breaths, sifting through the heavily masked scents. My eyes flew open as a familiar scent hit my nose and I struggled to keep the rising gold color down.

Cherries.

I pushed my way through the crowd of drunkards and bikers. It was exactly the kind of scene Dean liked. Loud enough to quiet his own raging thoughts. Dark enough to dull the headache behind his eyes. Music he could get lost in, and a drink that burned just right.

"Hey," I spoke cautiously as I sat beside him and rested my forearms on the bar counter. Dean spared me a glance from the corner of his green eye and suddenly jumped. He did a double take out of shock and turned to me with wide eyes and parted lips. As suddenly as his surprise had come, it was gone and darkened with spite.

"What do you want?" he growled and took a long sip from his whiskey glass, failing to hide his frown.

I frowned, my brows knitted with frustration. I could already tell this wasn't going to be a good conversation. "I came to apologize."

Dean scoffed and tightened his grip on his glass. "Apologize for what? Abandoning us without a word?" he exhaled and glared at me. "That's not something I'll accept an apology for, sweetheart." I bristled. Although most of his nicknames were endearing, this one was spat out like it burned him.

"I had my reasons, Dean. You know I wouldn't leave without a good one-"

"Do I know that?" he snarled, spinning his stool to face me. "Cause it seems like you don't give a damn about Sam or me, or how we felt." I winced and opened my mouth to speak. He shushed me with a raised finger. "So what's your excuse? You got tired of us holding you back from going apeshit?"

Ow. I glowered at him. "You know I would never do that."

"Yeah? You seemed pretty content when you had your teeth sunk into Jared Bender's heart." I winced again, my glare cracking. "You didn't even know his name, did you?"

"He was trying to kill Sam," I growled, trying to justify my actions. "You would have done the same."

"Damn right I would have killed him. I would have shot his ass dead, would’ve been dead before he hit the dirt. But I certainly wouldn't have torn him apart and strung his organs around the room!" he growled between his teeth. He tried to keep his voice low, despite the uninterested roar of the bar occupants.

I balled my fists in my lap and glared at him as he twisted to face me. His jaw was set sternly, lips pressed into a thin line. It was the same look he gave Sam when the two argued. “You’re a hypocrite.” My tone caused my words to lose their bite.

"I'm a hypocrite? You fucking killed and nearly ate a man, and now you're trying to justify it to me!" he snapped, one corner of his mouth drawn up in a sneer. "You left Sam and me without a word! And now you're crawling back here to apologize and call me a hypocrite?"

My blood was boiling and once more my senses were raging. I couldn't quite grasp it, but it almost felt like a separation inside me, one side longing to beg for forgiveness and the other itching to sink its fangs into Dean's neck. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, struggling to ground myself again.

Maybe a few months as friends wasn’t enough to convince him I wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe he should’ve aimed for the head when we first met.

Without missing a beat I snapped back at him. "Quit acting like a girl whose prom date stood her up. I had my reasons and if you'll shut up for a few minutes, I'll tell you what was going through my head," I exhaled shakily and glared, steeling myself for his own reproachful response. "I left to protect you, to protect Sam, and to protect everyone around you. I wasn't stable – you know that, you saw it. So stop talking like a self-righteous prick."

Despite the quick tongue-lashing, I still didn't feel better. I hadn't said half of what I wanted to. If I could have given Dean a glimpse inside my thoughts, I would have in a heartbeat.

His frown remained stalwart on his features, furrowed brows unyielding. His viridescent eyes surveyed my own with contempt and barely contained anger, an emotion I mirrored. Eventually, his gaze reluctantly dropped back to the beer I had passed him, which he took a swig of. I felt a small victory until he spoke up.

"Get out," he grumbled.

"What?" I demanded with equal, if not more, frustration.

"Get out," he ordered more firmly this time with rage coating his words. I blinked in confusion – not just at his harsh words, but at the gripping pain in my chest and the harsh scratching, I felt in the back of my mind, like something fighting to escape. It struck me that Dean was really, truly angry with me for leaving, despite my reasoning – and from what I knew of him, he wasn't just going to forgive and forget.

He swore under his breath and whipped his head toward me, eyes raging with rage and, to my amazement, pain. "Are you deaf?" he snarled lowly, "I don't want to hear your excuses. Fuck off." He gripped his beer tightly and guzzled it then slammed it onto the counter.

Wrath hit me like a semi-truck, and that familiar clawing sensation I kept hidden in the back of my thoughts lunged forward. Those nagging thoughts took the form of my wolf, black fur ruffled and fangs bared in anger.

Whatever wolfish instincts I had let escape were now clawing to take control. For the first time in a long time, I felt like two beings at once. As I had surmised earlier, I had the very human side that wanted nothing more than to avoid conflict, that just wanted to apologize to Dean and work things out. But my monster side...

I gulped and glared viciously at Dean.

I felt a rumble low in my chest, a familiar rumble that I had last felt with my father. My wolf wanted me to tear into Dean, a human that we had somehow bound to our pack. Now this pup was blatantly challenging me, as she put it. She snarled at him and I resisted the urge to follow suit.

She was pacing in my mind, stalking back and forth, her molten eyes fixated on Dean. My own eyes faded to match the warm gold of hers, whiskey-colored in the faded glow of the bar lights.

I hadn't even realized just how much I was shaking. My wolf wanted out, wanted to shred him for his disloyalty. It was an odd feeling to be separated from a piece of myself, although the more I focused on her, the more I realized that we had been separated for a long time. For years, I lacked the fluid mobility between myself and my instinct, not the mobility that I once had. I hadn't had it since I was fifteen. It felt like I was holding back a tidal wave of torrential emotions, a painful instinct that wanted me to embrace the monster I was and chow on some hearts. Not Dean though. She wanted him back in his place as my... pack member? Was that what she- I viewed him as?

Dean swore again, finally breaking eye contact. He reached for his beer with a shaky hand and took another final swig before wiping his mouth and standing. "Fuck this," he grumbled, "I'm out."

He hadn't even made it three steps before something in me snapped and I snarled. "Sit your ass down before I sink my teeth into you and drag you back."

Dean whirled on me, chest heaving with fury. I turned my blazing golden eyes on him, slowly, with my mouth set into a firm line and eyebrows slightly drawn together. It struck me that this was the same look my mother had given my father when she was pissed as all hell, a look that clearly said he needed to shut up if he wanted to keep his testicles intact.

Like my father, Dean responded with a slack jaw, opening and closing his mouth in surprise and confusion. His resolve, although still strong, was withering.

I nodded toward his vacated stool. He sat and shot me an angry glance, trying (and failing) to mask his nerves.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves. I stretched my fingers, feeling my joints pop after being balled into tight fists for god know how long. With a sigh, I locked eyes with Dean once more, his narrowed and wary.

"You know full well I had to leave, Dean." I snapped. "If I hadn't left, I guarantee you would have eventually sent me home, thinking my pack could help. Don't act pissy with me for doing what I felt was right."

Dean glowered and his nostrils flared. "Having a reason doesn't change that fact that you left without a word-"

"- If I had told you I was leaving, would you have asked me to stay?"

"Of course, I would have!" he hissed and leaned forward. "Whether you like it or not, you're part of this family now. I'm not going to just let my family walk out on me like that."

"That's the problem, Dean!" I argued. "I know that, if you had asked, I would have stayed! Sam wouldn't have asked, he would accept my decision and move past it, because he’s made that decision before for himself! You though, you would have gotten so caught up in your familial ideas that I wouldn't have been able to leave!"

"What's so wrong about staying with us!? About staying with me!?" he shouted back, a snarl set on his features. My eyes widened and he followed suit, realizing just what he had said.

"Dean, I had to leave," I uttered quietly. "For the second time in my life, I royally fucked up. I needed- need to get back on the same page. You know that feeling better than most."

"Why are you risking it?" he grumbled. I smiled weakly.

"Because you're my family too, Dean. Whether you like it or not, you're part of my pack now. You're family," I answered quietly. His own eyes softened. "Are you still mad at me?" I inquired with a nervous smile.

"Hell yeah, I'm still mad," he grunted. "But yeah... I get it. Wish I didn't, it would make staying mad at you a hell of a lot easier."

My nervous smile grew to a true grin, the gold fading from my eyes. My wolf scoffed and sat back on her haunches, melting into the background of my thoughts.

My human side had won yet again.

"Don't think you're off the hook," Dean huffed and stood from his stool. "You've got a lot of work to do to make it up to me, Scooby."

"Would pie be a good first step?" I teased, standing up with him.

His expression softened slightly. The harsh lines of his scowl faded and the corners of his mouth dipped down in a frown. His brows pinched inward, hiding slight surprise. “It’s a start.”

—

Unlike his brother, Sam was happy to see me. I practically threw myself at him when I saw him in the motel room. Dean sulked and ate his pie while Sam and I caught up, discussing hunts and my own journey.

"Wait, so what do you mean you can't change shape?" Sam said, raising a forkful of pie to his mouth. "Isn't that, like, literally part of being... you?"

"Kind of," I uttered through my own forkful. "It's a mental barrier. Sometimes I can get it… close, sometimes I can't. The times that I can take multiple tries and usually it's kind of painful. Hurts my joints."

"What kind of mental barrier? Like a trauma barrier or you just don't want to?"

I huffed and reached for another bite of my slice. "I don't know. It's... it's like my mind knows I won't always be able to control what I do in that form. It's like a piece of me is trying to keep that instinctive part of me tied down."

I heard a snort from behind me and spun to face Dean, who was sitting at a little table under the window next to the door. "Why're you talking like it's two separate people? It's still you, right?"

I exhaled softly, choosing my words carefully when I spoke up. "Yeah, it's still me, but it's a side of me that I'm not very... in touch with. I haven't been in a long time."

"So your wolf is that instinctive part of you that you're keeping 'tied down'?" Sam inquired. I nodded.

"I think so. And she's been a lot rowdier since Minnesota. Over the years I've just... made a habit of keeping her chained down so that I don't have any screw-ups."

"And yet," snapped Dean, "you still didn't have a strong enough grip on her." He shoved a large bite of pie into his mouth and chewed, his jaw tensing. I practically wilted and stared down at my feet that were stretched out in front of me. His opinion on the matter had changed so drastically since before I left.

"Dean!" Sam hissed. "I know you're pissed, but you don't need to be an ass-"

"It's fine, Sam," I uttered. "He's not wrong." I huffed and brushed a hair out of my face. "I know it's not an excuse but... when my pack is involved, I just lose control. I'm going to keep working on it," I sighed. "I've never had a pack before – never wanted one – so, it's all so new to me. And now I have to worry about six skinwalkers and two humans that have somehow wormed their way into my family-" Dean winced. "- I've got to worry about my self-control and make sure I don't kill anyone, I have to figure out these damn whispers, and-"

"Hold up," said Sam, throwing up a halting hand. "What whispers?"

I paled. I hadn't meant to let that slip out. I didn't want the brothers to worry about whatever weird-ass whispers I had been hearing - I knew that they'd get fixated on figuring it out and potentially killing whatever it was. They didn't have the time or resources to help me with that -- hell, I didn't even know if it was actually a living thing talking to me. For all I knew, some celestial entity was trying to give me advice. At worst, I was going nuts.

"I- uh," I stuttered over my words. I jumped as Dean stood, tossing his paper plate in a trash can and sitting on the bed beside Sam. I refused to turn to him and continued staring at my feet and my place on the floor. "I've just been hearing these weird whispers. It's nothing too crazy-"

"Whispers are pretty frickin’ crazy,” Dean remarked firmly. I frowned. "Keep talking."

"There's not much to tell, Dean," I snapped, twisting to face him with a scowl. "I just hear this whisper. When I try to follow it, it... it shows me things."

"It shows you things?" Sam asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Like, I was chasing it when I met Marcus and Caeden. I just... followed the whisper and it led me to them. And with Calliope, it was... it wasn't whispering. It was screaming, frantic. It made me frantic. It knew she was in danger and it took me to her."

Dean swore under his breath. "How long have you been hearing these things? What are they saying to you?"

I scrunched my brows in thought. "It's been about three months I think? Maybe a little more?" Dean scoffed.

"And you're only telling us about this now?"

"Well, what was I supposed to say!?" I snarled back. "'Oh hey Dean, just wanted to let you know that I might be going a bit crazy, cause this voice I know literally nothing about it talking to me'!?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "That is exactly what you tell us! And then we help you figure out whatever the hell it is and maybe kill it!"

I huffed and turned away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't think it needs to be killed."

"What?" Dean growled and leaned forward, "What if it leads you into danger huh? What if it drags you into something you can't handle!?"

I whipped around to glare at him. "Would you even care, Dean? Last I checked, you didn't want me around anyway."

"Guys," Sam silenced us with a warning tone, snapping out of his deep thoughts. "Quit going at each other's throats, it's pointless."

"She wouldn't go for the throat, Sammy," Dean growled, balling his hands into fists, "She'd go for the heart."

"If you don't shut the hell up I will beat the shit out of you," I hissed back.

"I'd like to see you try," he snapped back.

"Would you two just shut up!" Sam snapped and glared at the both of us like he was ready to maim. "We've got bigger problems than you dumbasses not getting along." Dean and I fell silent, dropping our harsh gazes from one another and onto the floor. I could practically feel Dean's blood boiling - he was seething. I was too. I hated the way he was talking to me, treating me. Sam placed his hands on his face, dragging them down languorously, and sighed out of frustration. I perked up as he said my name. "What are the whispers saying to you?"

I hummed in thought. "Things like 'come', mostly," Dean snorted and I glared at him. "Last time it said 'see' and 'go'. Pretty much as soon as I realized something was wrong it changed what it was saying."

"Is it always only one word?"

"Yeah, one word at a time. Usually, there's a long pause and then it says something else. Last time... last time it was screaming so loud that it felt like it was clawing inside my skull," I mused for a second, mulling it over. "Pretty much every other time it's been like an existential thing like I was chasing someone just ahead of me. That time it felt like it was... pushing me, almost. Like it was urging me forward instead of urging me to chase."

Sam ruminated for a few moments, looking puzzled. Finally, he turned to Dean and muttered, "What do you think? Have you seen anything like that in dad's journal?"

Dean shook his head and fiddled with the odd-looking charm hanging around his neck. "No, I haven't. Honestly, sounds like a possession of some sort," his words faded into deep thought. His eyes rose to meet mine. "Can skinwalkers even get possessed?"

"Not that I know of. To my knowledge, you have to have a soul to get possessed."

Sam's eyes widened and he leaned forward with interest. "You don't have a soul?"

I shook my head. "Don’t think so. My dad told me it's why we don't go to heaven or hell when we die."

Dean quirked a brow. "Then where do you go? And how did he know?"

I shrugged. "For all I know there's nothing after death for monsters. It's just... over..." my shoulders slumped. I had always hoped that my father was wrong, that maybe there was something, anything after death. I didn't want it to just be over.

"Well, if it's not possession," Dean grumbled and leaned back on his hands, "maybe it's a demon?"

"Dean, why would a demon be talking to her?" Sam countered. "It's not like she can sell her soul."

I frowned. "What if it's not anything bad? What if it's, like, her? Instinct? Maybe I just subconsciously know when something is wrong with the pack?"

"No," Sam stated. "It can't be that. You said it led you to Marcus and Caeden? They weren't part of your pack at the time. Unless your instinct latches on to potential pack members nearby, I don't think that's it."

“Well if it were that, it would have led me to Sasha, Booth, and Andrew long before you guys rolled into town.”

“Unless they were the catalyst that sent your… pack honing abilities into overdrive?” Dean offered.

"Whatever the reason is for it talking to me-" I started, referring back to Sam's previous statement, "- as long as the thing stays out of my way, I don't care what it says or leads me to."

Sam chuckled. "Fair enough. We can figure out our game plan for dealing with this thing later." The younger brother yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.

"We?" I questioned teasingly. "I don't remember agreeing to that."

Dean huffed and stood from Sam's bed and marched toward his own. He flopped onto the bed, landing on his back and locking his eyes with the ceiling. "Damn right this is a 'we' operation. No way in hell are we letting you figure this out on your own."

I chuckled dryly. “Doesn’t sound like you’re mad at me anymore.”

He scoffed. "Sure, soon we'll be frolicking in a meadow full of flowers together."

Sam chuckled with me as he rummaged through his bag, hunting for a toothbrush within it and setting out a set of clothes for the following day. "Alright, you two," he said, "we've got a hunt tomorrow, so enough talking."

I quirked a brow, my grin falling away. "We've got a hunt?"

Sam nodded and hummed in response. "Murder in Chicago."

I barked out a laugh. "Yeah, like that's uncommon for Chicago." A rustling caught my attention and I turned to see Dean rummaging through his own luggage.

Sam smirked down at his bag and turned to face me, toothbrush in hand. "This is the second one in two months. Two people found dead in their apartments, no sign of forced entry."

My brows rose in surprise. "Spirit maybe?"

Dean huffed. "We were thinking a cursed object. No way a spirit could move between houses like that." I nodded in agreement. I wasn't exactly knowledgeable on all the spiritual aspects of the supernatural world – ask me anything about certain monsters, and I could answer more than most hunters. But ghosts, psychics, witches... those were all foreign. Hell, I had only heard stories about psychics before meeting Missouri Moseley.

"We'll find out what it is soon," interjected Sam, always the mother of the group. "Just get to sleep - especially you, Dean, since you'll be driving tomorrow."

Dean grumbled something under his breath and flopped back onto his bed, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. I grinned and made my way toward a rather large armchair in the corner of the room. I dragged a cushion off the chair and motioned for Sam to toss me a pillow. To my delight, he tossed two and a heavy blanket that had been folded and lain across the end of the bed.

After putting together my relatively comfortable nest, Sam turned out the light and the sound of peaceful snores filled the room.

—

The Impala rolled to a halt on the side of the packed road and Dean expertly parked against the curb. Sam sighed and ruffled his hair, scanning the newspaper seated in his lap.

I leaned forward and gazed out the front window at the apartment building before us. The room was somewhere on the third floor. I fiddled with the hem of my costume and followed the brothers out of the car, my eyes following Dean as he moved toward the trunk and withdrew a toolbox. He had hardly said anything to me since the night I got back. The most he would do is give me the necessary information for the case or give me a clipped answer to a question.

I missed bantering with him. I didn't like this odd silent treatment I was receiving from him. It put me in a bad mood every time he gave me a brief answer or even none at all. I wanted nothing more than to scream at him to get over himself and just forgive me already.

"You know," Dean started as he paced down the sidewalk toward where Sam and I were standing, "I've gotta say, dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a high school drama dork." He grinned and swung his toolbox lazily at his side. "What was that play you did?" he asked Sam, a smirk dawning on his features. He stumbled for a moment, struggling to remember the name. "What was it - ‘Our Town’? Yeah, you were good, it was cute."

Sam scoffed and a blush tinged his ears and cheeks. I chuckled, punching him teasingly in the shoulder. "You never told me you were in a play, Sam."

He chuckled nervously and turned his head to me. "It was a long time ago, and I really didn't have a big part. I was a background character."

"Main character in my heart," Dean teased. Sam rolled his eyes.

"But honestly, Dean. This getup helps us look the part. Do you want to pull this off or not?" Sam quickly changed the subject.

"I'm just saying, these outfits cost hard-earned money."

"Whose?" I countered and glared teasingly.

"Ours. You think credit card fraud is easy?"

It didn't take us long to reach the third floor and the door of the victim. The landlady grumbled and fumbled with the keys before pushing the white door open to let us in.

"Thanks for letting us look around," Sam said to her politely. Dean and I paced around the hallway, him fumbling with the alarm system while I checked for any signs of forced entry on the door.

"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so..." she trailed off and sauntered into the room with Sam close behind. I shut the door and quirked an eyebrow at the severed chain lock. I caught Dean's attention and nodded toward it, holding the two ends of the golden chain delicately. Dean frowned and turned to follow the landlady and his brother. "You said you're with the alarm company, right?" the older woman asked and spun to face the brothers.

"That's right," answered Dean, flashing his most sincere smile. It looked more like a grimace, in all honesty. He really wasn't that good at the acting part of this job.

The woman huffed wearily in response. "Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man." I choked down laughter and covered my mouth with a hand. She leaned around the boys to cast me a sly grin.

Dean cleared his throat and flashed his own tentative grin. "Well, that's why we're here. To make sure it never happens again." The woman nodded and stepped aside to allow us to peruse the apartment.

"You found the body, right?" I asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She nodded and swallowed dryly. "Were there any signs of a forced entry?"

"Any windows open?" Sam asked. "Was the alarm still active?"

"Windows were locked, front door was bolted. We had to cut the chain to get in here," she grouched in response. Dean frowned – that chain was the only lead we had. We were back to square one.

"Did you find her right after it happened?" Dean asked, referencing the girl who had been killed. The landlady shook her head.

"No, a few days later. Her work called and said they hadn't seen her in a while. I knocked on her door. That's when I noticed... the smell," she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the memory.

"And what condition was she in?" Dean pressed. The landlady huffed and glared at him.

"Meredith was all over the place, in pieces. I tell you, the guy who did it must have been a whack job. If I didn't know any better, I would have said it was an animal attack." The brothers looked first at each other and then Sam's eyes met mine. My brows furrowed. What could possibly have shredded her like that?

Sam's eyes flitted toward the woman. "Ma'am, do you mind if we take some time and give this place a once over?"

The landlady shrugged in response. "Go right ahead, knock yourself out." My eyes followed her as she walked out of the apartment, waiting for the door to latch before giving the go-ahead to speak.

"So a killer walks in and out of the apartment, no weapons, no prints, nothing..." Dean grumbled, trailing off as he rifled through his toolbox. I hummed quietly in response.

"There's got to be a trace of something here, some sort of clue. There's no way something could have killed her and not left a trail," I said, tracing a few fingers lazily over the large spots of blood.

"I'm telling you, the minute I saw the article I knew this was our kind of gig," Sam said, inspecting the windows. He jumped when Dean's EMF meter went off.

"I think I agree with you," Dean answered as he held up the box to show off the number of lights indicating supernatural presence.

"Did you ever talk to the cops yesterday?" I asked him.

Dean nodded and stood from his crouch position on the once white carpet. "Oh, yeah," he said, smirking. "I talked to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law." I rolled my eyes.

"What'd you find out?" Sam pressed. I flashed him a quick glare which he looked rather confused by.

"Well, she's a Sagittarius, loves tequila - I mean, wow," Dean sighed almost wistfully, "Oh! And she's got this little tattoo-"

"Jesus, Dean!" I snapped. "Not about your hook-up, about the case!"

Dean grumbled something I didn't catch. I glared at the back of his head, almost wishing I could bore holes into it. "Nothing we don't already know," he carped. "Except for one thing they're keeping out of the papers."

"Enough with the suspense, Dean," I said. At this point, I just wanted this case to be over. I already was not a fan of Chicago.

"You're no fun," he sighed. "Meredith's heart was missing."

Sam and I both jumped to attention, whirling on Dean with twin, wide-eyed stares.

"Her heart? What do you think did it to her?" Sam inquired.

"Landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe a werewolf?"

I barked out a laugh. "No way it was a werewolf. Moon cycle isn't right, and even if it was, I'd smell it. They reek, like the worst combination of rotten meat and cigarettes." I scrunched my nose at the thought. "My money's on a spirit. If it was a monster, I guarantee they would have left some trace other than blood."

"Yeah..." Dean mused thoughtfully. His eyes scanned the patches of blood, drawing a pattern in his mind. "Sammy, see if you can find a roll of tape."

Sam dug through his brother's toolbox as I went to stand beside Dean. "Notice something?"

"Maybe," he offered, holding his hands up to catch the roll of tape Sam had tossed his way. "We'll see in just a minute."

Dean got to work, connecting the patches of blood in a pattern I had never seen before. Hell, I wouldn't have even thought it would make a pattern like that. I chuckled morbidly, thinking that whatever killed Meredith must have been some sort of abstract artist - first the body, now the blood.

Dean stood and surveyed his work, crossing his arms. Sam moved to stand beside him, a puzzled look on his features.

"You ever seen a symbol like that?" Sam inquired, eyes following the sharp corners of the z-like symbol.

"Never," Dean responded curtly.

"Me neither."

—

"He could at least be helping us, Sam," I grumbled, flipping through the worn pages of their father's journal. "Instead of off doing- whatever it is with that poor bartender."

Sam snickered. "He is helping. Meredith worked here, so the bartenders are bound to know her."

"There's a distinct difference between helping us with the case and flirting with some painted bimbo, who we all know he is never going to call," I muttered, resting my chin in the palm of my hand as my eyes lazily scanned the page.

Sam opened his mouth to retort and quickly shut it, seeing Dean make his way back over. My gaze moved quickly toward him and fell right back to the paper. Honestly, the journal was a hell of a lot more interesting than anything Dean had to say.

John was incredibly thorough – he rivaled my uncle, who had always been compulsive and meticulous about his case notes. The journal might look like a mess of pages and hastily scrawled notations, but to me, it showed his dedication.

I flipped another page slowly, tuning out the brothers' conversation. My finger dragged along each line of writing with my eye following closely behind. My eyes fell on a string of numbers and my finger stopped its movement. I exhaled shakily.

I knew those numbers.

"Hey, Sam!" Dean called out, a tight grip on his beer. "Where are you going?"

I lifted my head, staring with a glazed look after Sam as he marched away from the table. Dean turned his confused eyes on me before standing and following his brother.

I looked back at the page, my finger running haphazardly over the string of digits. Why would John have his number..? I tightened my jaw and marked the page so I could find it later and shut the little book, tucking it under my arm and following the brothers. My eyes widened as I noticed Sam talking to a blonde girl, giving her a tense hug. My ears tuned in to their conversation as I stalked up behind Dean.

"Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while," the girl said, fluttering her lashes at Sam. I took a deep breath, ready to interject, and coughed, gagging on air. God, this girl was drenched in perfume, it was blocking all of my other senses.

Dean cleared his throat and patted me lightly on the back. I brushed his hand away and took shallow breaths.

"You're from Chicago?" Sam asked.

"No, Massachusetts – Andover," the girl said with a giggle. "Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other?"

"Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again." Although his back was turned to me, I could tell he was puzzled. It must have been written all over his features.

"Well, I'm glad you were wrong..." she trailed off and gazed up at Sam from under her lashes. I rolled my eyes. Dean cleared his throat and the girl's eyes snapped to his, a disgusted glare rising on her features. "Dude, cover your mouth."

Dean looked shocked and I suppressed a laugh, for fear of inhaling more of her sharp perfume. God, the girl must have bathed in the stuff. Did the boys really not smell it?

"Yeah, um, I'm sorry, Meg. This is, uh—this is my brother, Dean," Sam said, scratching the back of his head. The girl, Meg, looked surprised.

"Oh! This is Dean?" she confirmed. Sam nodded and Dean smirked at her.

"So you've heard of me," Dean mused, attempting to be smooth. Now it was Meg's turn to roll her eyes.

"Yeah, I've heard of you," she snapped. "Real nice, how you treat your brother like luggage." Dean’s eyes widened and I stared at Meg in shock. When did Sam even have time to meet this girl without Dean knowing? "Why don't you let him do what he wants?" she continued, spite lacing her words. "Quit dragging him all over God's green earth-"

Sam held up his hands in a silent plea to make her stop. "Meg, it's fine, really, we're fine." The three of them stood there awkwardly, Meg surveying the two, glaring at Dean with contempt and at Sam with an almost overprotective gaze. Her eyes skirted over me, likely because I hadn't been introduced.

I cleared my throat. "I'm, uh- I'm going to get a drink. You want to come with me, Dean?"

"Yeah- yeah," he said, already moving toward the bar. I flashed a sheepish grin toward Sam and Meg, waving goodbye and running to catch up with the elder Winchester. "Damn, that was awkward."

I sat on one of the bar stools, placing John's journal on the counter and running a finger over the spine. "So... when did she and Sam first meet."

Dean scoffed. "Probably after our first real hunt with you, in Kansas. He and I got into a spat and he left for a few days."

I glared at him, clenching my fist and resting it on the counter. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Well, we weren't exactly super close then. It was kind of a family matter, not something for you to stick your snout into."

"You are family, Dean," I hissed. "I have a right to know when these things happen."

He frowned and rested his hands on his lap. We sat in silence for a few minutes, long enough for Dean to get another beer from the bartender and have about a third of it.

"Listen, I-" he started. I cut him off, flipping open his father's journal to my marked page.

"Dean, I found something in the journal earlier, when you first came back to the table." He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something and shut it when I cast him a warning glare. Whatever he wanted to say, I really wasn't in the mood for it. He looked toward his lap bashfully and then his eyes rose to face mine, his jaw tightening.

"Anything relevant to the case?" he asked.

"No," I answered quickly. "But look at this," I slid the journal toward him, highlighting the phone number at the bottom of the page. His eyes flickered toward mine and he raised a brow in confusion. "I recognize this number, Dean. It's-"

"Hey!" called Sam, sauntering back toward us with his cell phone in hand. "You guys ready to head out."

Dean turned to face me, a promise being held in his green eyes. "We'll get back to this later." He stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and following Sam toward the door.

I groaned and dropped my head dramatically on the open journal. "Sure we will..." I muttered to myself. I stood, slamming the journal shut a little more roughly than I intended, and followed the brothers out the door.

"No, man, I mean like our kind of strange," I heard Sam say as I rushed to catch up with the brothers. "Like, maybe even a lead."

"What makes you say that?" Dean probed, sparing me a glance as I jogged up to him.

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don't think that's a little weird?"

Oh. They were still talking about her.

"I don't know," Dean said with a dramatic sigh. "Random coincidence? It happens."

"Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong-"

"Dean," I interrupted Sam. "I think maybe Sam's right. There's something off about her. I mean, did you not smell the buckets of perfume on her? Had me gagging within ten feet of her."

"Perfume doesn't make someone a murder suspect," Dean countered.

"It does if it causes me to choke and die."

"Well, then it's a good thing you're not dead, right?"

"-I'm just saying that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on," Sam added to his unfinished sentence.

"I bet you'd like to. I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a thing for her, huh?" he chuckled and nudged Sam with his shoulder. "Maybe you're thinkin' a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?"

Sam rolled his eyes as we stopped on the side of the road, waiting for the go-ahead to walk. "Do me a favor. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor." Sam marched away from Dean and I before his brother could protest.

"What are you going to do?" Dean asked as he ran to catch up.

"I'm going to watch Meg."

Dean laughed and clapped Sam on the back. "Yeah, you are!"

Sam grimaced and shrugged Dean's hand off his shoulder. "I just want to see what's what. Better safe than sorry."

The two bickered, Dean teasing Sam, and Sam arguing. I stopped on the sidewalk, watching the brothers make their way toward the Impala, Sam fishing the keys out of his pocket.

I glanced down at the heavy, leather-bound journal in my hands. Something about this case didn't add up. First the weird symbol, and now Meg showing up? Something was wrong, I could feel it. She was hiding something.

Dean called my name from his spot beside the passenger door and I perked up immediately. "You coming or not?"

I nodded and shoved the journal under my arm and crossed the street to where the boys were waiting.

#ugh here comes john winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #x reader #female reader #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3 #supernatural fanfiction #monster reader #monster #original characters #original monster characters #fluff #angst #slow burn

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holylulusworld · 10 months

Text

More than a feeling

Summary: Dean recalls his time with you.

Character: Dean Winchester

Warnings: angst, Dean’s self-loathing, mentions of loss of loved ones, sadness, written in Dean’s pov

Written for @deanwanddamons Rock SPN Flash Fan Fic Challenge! Round 3. My song was More than a feeling (Boston) Lyrics are taken from the song.

Words: 500 (including lyrics)

I jolt up on the bed, panting and wheezing. I haven’t had a nightmare for what feels like ages. Most of the time I can suppress the memories of hell.

What I can’t suppress are the faces of all the people I lost over the years. Including the one, I’m yearning to see again.

My life went down the drain the moment I was born. At least, that’s what I like to tell myself. The truth is that I’m the master of my fate. After my father’s death, I chose to follow the path leading to hell.

I groan as the hangover from last night catches up with my head. I swing my legs out of the bed, hissing as my feet hit the cold ground.

It gets colder again. I can feel it in my old bones.

Who would’ve thought I will grow old, and grey? But I did. Well, not old…old. Just old.

I’m fifty now, and I slowly feel every battle I ever fought in my bones.

I get up from the bed to look out of the window. It’s been a while since I left the old house I bought after Sam decided to retire. He told me to do the same after the last hunt almost killed me.

It’s raining again. The weather mirrors my mood.

I dreamed of you again, and it hurt like hell.

“Music always helps,” I grumble, and cough a little when I do. I switch the radio on, and of course, the station is playing our song…

I looked out this morning and the sun was gone

Turned on some music to start my day

I lost myself in a familiar song

I closed my eyes and I slipped away

Awesome. Now I feel even worse as I remember the way we sang along to the song. And how we made love in the backseat of my car. Baby. The only remnant of my former life.

“It's more than a feeling, (More than a feeling), When I hear that old song they used to play …” I sing along one last time.

Maybe it was for the best to let you go. Maybe not. Who knows?

Life always found a way to fuck me over. If not, I found a way to mess things up.

I sigh and turn off the radio.

The song still plays in my mind. I shake my head, hoping to just forget about you, and the past.

Easier said than done.

I decide to go for a ride to clear my mind.

I wanted to go for a ride and here I’m standing in front of your door.

You’re the missing piece I’ve lost so long ago, and I pray it’s not too late.

I look for the song on my phone and pump up the volume.

Boston is playing as I lift my fist to knock at your door.

I breathe in, hoping it’s more than a feeling bringing me back to your door...

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

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#More than a feeling #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #deanwanddamonsrockflashfic3 #dean winchester angst #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester fanfic

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dothwrites · 8 months

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THE TRAP! THE TRAP! THE TRAP! (he's going to get down on his OLD MAN KNEES and he's going to PRAY; the man with no faith is going to PRAY to his angel and he's going to apologize ON HIS KNEES)

"just stop being so stupid" cas is being a little bitch here and he's valid for doing it

amazing to me like rob benedict is like. four feet tall. and STILL somehow manages to be menacing.

this is exactly what you want to hear your ex-husband talk about when you're in the place where your romance took off: him talking about his ex-boyfriend and meeting up with him again. cas, you're RIGHT to be irritated. "my sense of direction is excellent; that's a different corpse" you can take the husbands out of... whatever. dean and cas are still husbands and they're still capable of bickering, even when they're divorced

i REFUSE to believe that benny is dead. that leviathan was just lying through his teeth. benny is definitely the king of purgatory; he was just hiding from dean and cas because he didn't want to be Purgatory Relationship Counselor Part II. he had enough of that nonsense the first time

this little slice of life in chuck's "future" is so cute--until it becomes less cute. eileen is going to make POPCORN for their movie night! cas is bringing them beers! they have a FAMILY!

this little therapy talk is painful but SO necessary. it's the first time that dean and cas are actually talking about their differences and what they're angry about. cas admitting that he carries his guilt over his past mistakes, and then cas calling dean out over being so angry that he wasn't able to listen to reason "i left but you didn't stop me" MY GOD! it's the thesis of the relationship. cas leaves but dean doesn't ask him to stay! dean doesn't want cas to leave but he's not willing to ask him to stay! both of them want cas to be there, but they're caught in this endless cycle of silence.

in chuck's "future", sam and dean have both lost the person that they love. dean's "ever since" is losing cas in the most horrific way possible--he had to bury him alive, knowing that cas was going to be tormented for the rest of time. and sam's response is anger and fury and dean's response is fatalism and depression. and i do have to wonder if it's because cas isn't GONE gone. he's fallen into depression but part of him still clings onto life so that he can be there for cas.

this PRAYER! dean frantically wandering around purgatory calling for cas! dean praying and saying his goodbye to cas, knowing that he failed him. jensen KILLS this scene! the unshed tears in his eyes, the little wobble in his voice... he gets down on his KNEES! dean finally acknowledging that he gets angry and lashes out when he's hurt and grieving. "OF COURSE i forgive you" like it was never in doubt. this is dean saying goodbye to cas because he thinks that cas is either dead or not going to make it back to the portal and he's CRYING!

and then we have the "future" scene immediately afterward that opens with dean sitting with his eyes closed, MUCH LIKE HE WAS WHEN HE WAS PRAYING. i don't think it's too much of a stretch to think that dean was praying to cas while he's trapped in the box. that dean is praying to him pretty much all the time while he's trapped. these vampire faces are STUPID. sorry but they're DUMB.

dean still waiting for cas and looking around desperately hoping! and then cas is just. chilling. curled up in a tree. AND THE HUG! THE HUG! cas' look of shock when dean hugs him! and dean's "you did it" feels like a balm. DEAN WAS GOING TO TELL CAS THAT HE LOVED HIM RIGHT HERE AND THIS IS THE HILL I WILL DIE UPON! otherwise, why would he still say that he needed to talk to cas? why would he look disappointed when cas tells him that he doesn't need to say it? cas knew that dean was going to tell him that he loved him and he KNEW that confession would set off the empty deal. this is the hill i will die on.

and we see dean and cas just quietly chilling in the kitchen, and we know that they're okay! that they're not absolutely reconciled but that they're at least on their way. they've come to an understanding with each other and they're acting as a unit again.

#doth watches spn

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foolondahill17 · 1 year

Text

We’re Emmanatural posting, so here’s Dean meeting Emma in Purgatory:

On the sixty-third day, Benny remarks into the quiet, stifling gloom of the forest, "Something's following us."

There's fog in purgatory, apparently. The past week, the woods have been stuffed with it, thick as cotton and heavy in Dean's lungs.

"Can you tell what it is?" Dean asks, propping himself on his elbows. It ain't like Benny needs to sleep, so he usually keeps guard while Dean catches his two-to-three hours. Dean doesn't understand it; he's technically still alive. He sleeps, eats, and shits like he did on Earth, but this is the land of monster souls. It must be some kind of metaphysical mumbo jumbo. Cas would explain it to him.

Hear that, Cas? Dean prays for good measure. I expect an explanation when I find you... Go all Bill Nye, even if I can't understand it.

"No," Benny answers Dean's question. He stands with his chin lifted, scenting the air. "Ain't something I've smelled before."

"Something new?" Dean asks, refusing to let the way his heart picks up speed come through his voice.

But Benny probably hears the acceleration of his blood, because he shakes his head. "Sorry, chief. It ain't your angel, I can tell you that much. Could be something I've never met before. There's plenty of rare monsters. Or things that don't come out of hiding often."

That doesn't sound good. Dean looks around him, but he sees nothing but the rough bark of trees, fading to hulking shadows, before they're overtaken by thick mist. "It close?" Dean asks.

Benny shakes his head. "About a day's walk," he replies. "Figure it picked up our trail. Stalking us, maybe."

Dean shivers. It's not the layer of cold sweat on his body that does it. Dean's not used to being prey. "That's not ominous.”

Benny chuckles darkly. "Been following at the same pace for a while now, maybe," he says. "Didn't notice it at first - this whole place fucking stinks. But I think I'm sure now."

"Wonder what it wants?" Dean mutters. He lays back down, hands under the back of his head, bad leg propped on Benny’s jacket. If it's a day away, there's no sense worrying about it now. Dean's eyes itch with tiredness, and his body is nothing but one solid ache; he can't afford to put off sleep whenever he gets the opportunity.

"Maybe it'll stay behind us," Benny offers. They both know that's idle hope.

"And maybe it's the fucking tooth fairy," Dean says.

Benny laughs again. Dean closes his eyes. "That'd be the day," he agrees.

OOO

On the eighty-seventh day, they cut through a murky, static body of water and double back behind a rocky outcrop. They wait for their pursuer, barely moving for hours on end until Dean’s bad leg tightens into a sharp wad of pain.

Finally, a small figure emerges from the dark of the forest. Dean sees a flash of her tangled, light hair before Benny launches himself at her with a snarl, blade raised overhead.

“No!” Dean yells. His heart clogs his throat. He can barely hobble forward on his crutch. He can barely think.

Benny stills. The figure braces herself on the ground, two knives raised in her fists. Her green eyes spark. Her teeth are bared.

“Stop,” Dean gasps. “I know her.” Benny looks at him, startled. Dean takes a deep breath, “She’s my daughter.”

OOO

“You haven’t learned,” Emma tells him from across the fire. The orange flames make her face glow. Her skin is gray and gaunt, but there’s still a youthfulness to her eyes and mouth. “Mercy will get you nowhere. You should kill me before I stab you in the back.”

“She has a point,” Benny says.

“Shut up,” Dean grunts. He turns over the strange, scurrying rodent he managed to trap for dinner. His leg is extended, braced under the knee again. It’s the only way to somewhat lesson the pain. “You’ve been following us for days,” Dean says to Emma. “Why’d you kill us now?”

Emma doesn’t respond. She folds her arms over her stomach, and for a moment Dean can only see Ben in one of his teenage bitch-fits. The thought sinks a solid stone of yearning into Dean’s belly. He misses home.

I miss you, Dean prays. It’s habit, by now. Half the time he’s not even aware he’s sending a prayer to Cas. It’s as natural as breathing.

“You’re going the wrong direction,” Emma finally says. “If you’re trying to get back to Earth – there’s a…I don’t know what it is. But the boundary is weakest in that direction. Beyond the river.” She throws her arm into the thickness of the forest.

Dean raises an eyebrow at her sudden helpfulness. Benny doesn’t hold back his suspicion, “And you’re telling us this, why? You got some friends waiting to pick us off?”

“Friends,” Emma scoffs. The cynicism in her voice makes a fist close in Dean’s gut. She sounds like him when he was in high school, when the concept of strangers wanting friendship from him was more alien than a consistent place to sleep each night. “There’s no such thing down here.” She juts her chin toward Benny before looking pointedly at Dean. “You’re just waiting for the best moment to tear out his throat.”

“You’re young,” Benny replies. “But old enough to realize you don’t get rid of a free ticket.”

“You think he can bring you back to Earth?” Emma guesses.

“I know he can,” Benny replies.

“See?” Emma declares. She doesn’t look away from Dean. “He’s only using you.”

Dean shrugs. This isn’t new information. He takes the hairy, burnt-to-a-crisp thing off the flames and moves it to his lap. “We’ve got a deal. He helps me. I help him. It’s the circle of life. Hakuna Matata, or whatever.”

Emma narrows her eyes at him. “I don’t understand. He helps you with what? Walking in circles?”

“We’re looking for someone,” Dean replies.

“For revenge?” Emma replies, nose scrunching a little in a way that makes another bolt land in the space between Dean’s ribs. She’s so fucking young. She shouldn’t be here.

“No.” It’s a struggle to keep his emotions out of his voice. “Someone I know from Earth. Another friend.”

Emma answers with a scoff and a shake of her head. Her hair is ragged and full of leaves and twigs. She has it pulled back from her face with a strand of fabric Dean recognizes as the torn hem of her pink t-shirt. It’s the same shirt she died in. Dean held her as she bled warm into his lap.

“What about you, huh?” Benny asks, voice aggressive. He’s clearly not convinced by Dean’s decision not to kill Emma, but like hell is Dean going to watch his daughter die twice. “Why are you following us?”

Emma finally drags her eyes away from Dean. “I recognized him from Earth,” she says.

“And you wanted to have a chat with dear old dad?” Benny sneers. Dean knows he does it as a dig at Emma, but he hides his own wince.

“The fact that he’s my father doesn’t matter,” Emma spits. “I was supposed to kill him. I wanted to find out how he got here.”

“Me and my friend got dragged here by accident,” Dean answers patiently.

“So?” Emma demands. “You say you know how to get out – then leave.”

“I’m not leaving my friend,” Dean says stubbornly.

Emma shakes her head at him. “Why?” she insists. Dean can tell she’s getting frustrated. Her face is turning red. Her shoulders are tense. “What do you owe him?”

“I don’t owe him anything,” Dean says. He continues, voice thick in his throat, “I care about him. You help the people you care about.”

“My mother was right,” Emma says derisively. “Men are irrational and foolish.” She stands, brushing her hands off on her ratty black jeans. The hems are caked with mud and the knees are torn through.

“You going somewhere?” Benny growls, moving for his weapon.

“I’ll cut through your throat before you can blink, vampire,” Emma says fiercely.

“Hey,” Dean says sharply. “Stand down, Benny. She’s not our prisoner.”

Emma gives Dean a startled look before schooling her features into a glare, levelled particularly hard at Benny.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she warns Dean.

“I have before,” Dean allows. Emma gives him one last headshake before tossing her hair behind her shoulder and jogging back into the forest. She disappears into the gloom and reaching branches within seconds.

OOO

On the ninety-second day, Benny tells Dean, eyes scanning the woods as they march steadily forward, “She’s still watching us.”

Dean shrugs. Even his human senses, honed as they are by a constant state of alertness, have caught wind of his daughter’s continued pursual. He’ll occasionally hear a muffled footstep behind them or once or twice caught sight of her incongruent pink t-shirt among the desaturated greens and grays.

“I’m not gonna stop her,” Dean replies.

“She’s right, you know,” Benny says wryly. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day.”

OOO

On the one-hundred and fifteenth day, Dean and Benny stumble directly into a pack of seven leering Leviathans. They ooze black goo from their mouths and eyes, like their vessels are weakened and splintering in Purrgatory’s noxious air.

There are too many of them. They can’t be killed. And they quickly cut off any chance of retreat when they surround Dean and Benny in a tight ring, choking them off from any hope of escape.

Dean figures this really is it, this time. He trusts Sam to do his best back on Earth to bring him back, but by the time he figures out a way, he’ll be summoning Dean’s corpse.

Dean and Benny stand back-to-back, frantically swiping and slashing through the hoard. Sweat pours down Dean’s back and from his armpits. His heartbeat throbs against his ribs.

Cas, I’m sorry, he prays as he sends a Leviathan head toppling to the ground, only to be replaced by another gaping, jagged maw.

One of the Leviathans catches Dean’s arm and whips him toward the ground like some kind of WWE wrestler. Dean’s arm wrenches out of the socket with an audible pop. He coughs in pain. The back of his head hits the ground hard enough to gray out his vision.

The Leviathan is on top of him, full weight crushing Dean’s chest and making it impossible to breathe.

Emma leaps out of the tree above them with a formless cry. In a flurry of hair and long limbs, she lands on the back of the Leviathan. Her added weight sends a rush of air out of Dean’s crushed lungs. Without hesitation, Emma draws one of her pointed knives through the throat of the Leviathan. Its head goes flying. Black blood sprays across Dean’s face. His eyes shut on instinct.

When he opens them again, Emma is on her feet, dispatching another Leviathan from behind as it bears down on Benny. Its head spins through the air before landing with a wet thump on the ground.

The last two Leviathans simultaneously realize they’re now outnumbered and they turn tail and crash away through the woods, leaving the clearing starkly silent save for Benny and Emma’s ragged breathing.

Dean extracts himself from under the oozing Leviathan corpse with difficulty. His shoulder throbs with sick heat. It’s his left again, the one he dislocated for the first time on a salt and burn when he was fourteen.

Benny notices his struggle and jogs over to help. He tugs Dean to his feet. Dean’s leg buckles beneath him and Benny hauls him over to his discarded crutch on the ground. Fitting the crutch firmly under his good arm, Dean nods at Benny, breathless with pain and waning adrenaline, “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” Benny says, raising an eyebrow. Together, they look at Emma.

She appears somehow both self-conscious and defiant, holding her shoulders hunched yet chin tipped high, as if daring them to say something.

“Thanks,” Dean tells her, too.

“You don’t belong here,” Emma says sharply, by way of explanation. “The sooner you find your friend, the sooner you can leave.”

OOO

On the one-hundred and twentieth day, while waiting to snare another of those weird ground squirrels or maybe one of the quick, scaly lizards Dean’s seen scurrying up trees or under bushes, Emma joins him behind a tree. His bad leg is extended over the ground and his other knee is drawn to his chest.

His left arm is still strapped to his chest with a spare shirt they stripped from one of the Leviathans before burning the bodies. Dean doesn’t know how much more abuse his body can take before giving out on him entirely.

Emma doesn’t speak when she arrives. Dean wonders if she was just curious about what he was doing while Benny started a fire at the campsite about a hundred yards away.

“You’re not exactly thrilled to travel with us,” Dean remarks, half-way afraid giving voice to this thought will make Emma scamper into the woods, again. “Why not find some of your Amazon pals, huh? Sorry, er, gals.”

Emma huffs. “You think the first thing I did when I arrived wasn’t to look for my foremothers? They don’t give a – shit,” she says the curse carefully. It’s a habit she’s picked up from Dean. In fact, she’s losing her formal, stilted language a little more every day she follows Benny and Dean deeper into Purgatory.

“Sorry,” Deans says simply.

Emma laughs again. “Don’t be. They’re right to be cold. There’s no trust here.”

“It’s a brutal place,” he agrees.

“Yet you and the vampire,” Emma begins.

“Benny,” Dean corrects her.

Emma rolls her eyes, and she looks so much like Sammy it makes Dean’s breath curl into a rock in his lungs.

“You and Benny,” Emma allows before plowing ahead. “Pretend to trust each other. And you trust that your missing friend won’t have already found a way out and abandoned you here.”

“I told you,” Dean says. “I care about him. You trust the people you care about.” It hasn’t always been true: Cas and Dean have broken each other’s trust more times than Dean can count, but, now, trust is all Dean has left. He has to believe Cas is waiting for him, just like he has to believe Sammy is working on getting them both out. If Dean stops believing that, he’ll crumble.

“You don’t trust me,” Emma tests him. Dean wonders if what she really wants to ask is if Dean cares about her. He does. He’d tell her if he wasn’t positive it would make her run.

“I trust that you need me, right now,” Dean says. “You’re like Benny – you need someone to help you get out.”

“You’d do that for me?” Emma tries, eyes slits as she reads him for a lie. Dean’s never been good at being easy to read, but he tries to keep his face open and honest. He wants – he wants –

He wants her to trust him. He’ll start with that. He can look at what else he wants later. Once they’re out of this cesspool. There’s room only for basic needs here: Dean needs food, water, sleep. He needs a goal to keep himself moving. Want is a luxury.

“Like hell am I leaving you down here,” Dean says. When she looks doubtful, Dean adds, “You saved my life, right? I owe you, now.”

OOO

On the one-hundred and forty-eighth day, Dean’s watch stops ticking. He taps the useless piece of metal and plastic on his wrist, but the hands on the clock only jerk a little from the motion. Dean takes the thing off his arm and puts it in his pocket; the batteries are probably dead.

The perpetual gray twilight streams downward through the branches and thick leaves. There’s nothing to do but keep walking. Read more if you want

#emma winchester #emmanatural #dean winchester #purgatory #ficlet #Dean's half-way house

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vaicomcas · 11 months

Text

There are gifsets about this. But sometimes words show things more clearly.

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

Bobby: About that. I liked the kid. We fought together. But there's only one way this ends. Castiel: Bobby's right. We have to find Jack and help him. Bobby: What? That kid -- he killed Mary! Castiel: I know that. Bobby: Ah-ah. Don't say "but. Castiel: But he -- Jack may not even realize what he did was wrong. Bobby: If his human side is gone, you know what's left -- Lucifer. Now, if you boys want to sit around and talk, fine. But me? I'm gonna get on the horn to some of my people and go find that boy. Castiel: And what then? Bobby: An unstoppable monster who don't know right from wrong gets put down -- or the closest we can get to it. And anybody who don't know that needs to go back to school.

It's not just Dean Winchester the big hero, some random hunter from another world that Jack (and Cas) helped rescue also gets to talk down to Cas and "school" him? About how he should be on board with murdering his son? Cas wasn't given the chance to say a word back to this?

Dean: He's locked up, safe. He's in the Ma'lak box. Castiel: No! Dean: And that's where he's gonna stay. Castiel: Even after hearing what I said, you want to keep Jack sealed in a living death? Dean: He agreed to it. Because deep down, I think he knows it's best. Castiel: No. You're doing what Dumah -- You are manipulating him. Sam: Cas. Castiel: What? You just want to forget about him? Dean: I wish I could forget about him! After what he did? And you know what he can do. This is our only play.

SAM: Okay, the last time we found Jack, it wa—it was by praying to him, but that's not gonna happen again. DEAN: Yeah, you think? CASTIEL: You should never have tried to lock him away. DEAN: You know what? You're right. I never wanted to put him in that damn box. I wanted him dead. DEAN: He's dangerous, Cas, and you knew it! You've known it for a long time! But that's okay. You know why? Because me and Sam, we've killed just about everything there is. And this -- Jack -- oh, we'll find a way. Because he's just another monster. CASTIEL: You don't mean that. DEAN: The hell I don't. (Dean and Cas stare each other down for a moment and then Cas storms out of the room) DEAN: All right. So, I guess we got to find Jack. SAM: Yeah. Then what? DEAN: I don't know. Maybe we call Rowena, see if she can put together one of those, um, "soul bombs." SAM: The...thing you were gonna use against the Darkness? DEAN: Yeah, might actually put a dent in the kid. SAM: (looking troubled) Okay. (quietly)

Dean and Sam were going to kill Jack with a soul bomb.

They threw out the red herring of Chuck to erase all this. But I am not fooled. After this, there is no way Cas doesn't take up arms to defend Jack. Against the apocalypse world hunters, against the Winchesters.

#castiel #Cas is the only one with any humanity in this whole thing #cas compared Dean to Dumah #Dean critical #Sam critical #winchesters critical #alternate bobby critical #anti dean winchester #anti winchesters

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firespirited · 6 months

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Confession time. After destiel went canon and broke tumblr, I read the entire wiki for the main characters before watching the final episodes and felt the finale was so out of character that I mentally wrote a fix it fic.

Here is me writing it down in honour of the third anniversary. A show that to me: consists of 3 episodes, a lot of meta posts that trended over the years, jokes about loving your car, some manic wiki reading and that odd dude who inexplicably did iffy prolapse photomanip fanart.

I have made no attempts to polish this. The voices probably aren't right but I tried to write an open ending that stays true to characterisation (aka as tumblr presented these three beloved characters which may be the opposite of what the writers of manly male, rock loving, hunters with guns in a muscle car and dead girlfriends had in mind) .

We follow the final episode as it began except after the pie festival and the vamp mime first murder, they're off to hunt but a flaming meteor falls from the sky and they follow it in the car. It hits a field, they see a human figure, run and use their coats and feet to put out the flames. It's Cas. They put him in the car, they're all very shaken no answers to Sam's many questions, awkward glances in the mirror from Dean then Cas breaks his silence and asks for his slice of pie... the one in the glove box. Sam is confused, Dean looks like he's going to vomit.

We restart the episode from a different point of view: After Castiel got sent to the empty, Dean began praying to whomever, whatever would hear (silently or under his breath but constantly.) he thinks he might be insane from grief but after all he's seen he has the smallest hope) . Jack as God can't technically rewrite all the laws of the universe but he's receiving these "prayers". He smirks when he finds a bylaw that he can make a saint of Castiel so that prayers to him are redirected straight to him and cannot be diverted (heaven's bureaucracy is complex).

The empty has known no peace for six months. Dean's internal monologue of prayer has been echoing around and amplified the more the empty tried to create silence. The empty has tried to kill Dean so many times but he's got a protective barrier on his hand that looks like a scratch (placed by a grateful angel) so he's been dodging these deaths like it's looney tunes, completely unaware. (insert scenes of echoey overlapping narration of longing and yearning over near misses of murder by multiple means. For angst broken up by comedy)

Back to now, to the car. The brothers staring at Cas, Dean gets out of the car to hyperventilate and try to hold it together. We focus in on the ringing and rushing blood sound in his ears as Sam seems to be asking questions again and Cas seems to be talking. Sam gets out of the car, asks his brother if he's OK, he obviously lies and says Yes.

Sam sighs and says "Yeah clearly, you look fantastic. So uh Cas says he wants in on the vampire mimes and is eager to do more hunting evil... and I know it's not the time but damnit when is ever the right time? ... Look, when I talked about a more normal life, I meant it. We write our own stories and maybe it's time for you to go try something, anything else really. How about you take a vacation? Cas and I will handle things."

"I've, well, I've given normal life a lot of thought, I've never truly fit in and I could try but I can only fake it for so long. Funny, but when I allowed myself to daydream of a different life, I imagined careers that led me back to the road and back to making things right, you know? I think at the core, that's who I am... And, hey, since you brought it up, I never asked you if this life is the 'normal' you want....To be honest: I know it's not. and I didn't want to be alone, at least not these past few months, I know I've seemed fine but"

"Oh no no, you did not seem 'fine' but I wasn't going to go out of my way to point it out. You didn't even wash for days at your worst. You mumble under your breath sometimes. Those guns are cleaned down to the last speck of dust. I wasn't going to leave you alone, not ever."

"Okay - Ok.ay! Since we're here having the 'talk', aside from your duty as my brother, have YOU let yourself imagine what you'd want normal to be, for you?"

He blurts out "Eileen... It's Eileen. I know she's out there somewhere, I felt a strange pang and it was relief." he's speaking so fast "She's back. My mind races at the possibilities, I haven't dared to let myself start. I'm not sure how I want to live but I know it has to be with Eileen"

"I'm calling a taxi. You have a serious phone call and some travel ahead. Older brother's orders. I'll do the blood suckers"

"Work again. Will you ever open up about what's been going on with you? You wouldn't even tell me how Cas summoned the Empty."

"I, uh, these things take time, more of an actions over words kinda guy. *stares at phone* Oh your taxi is two minutes out."

"I don't know what to say"

"You don't have to say anything, you already told me through all you've done. Text me when you arrive safely, or don't, if you're otherwise occupied"

"You're the worst. And the best." They hug

A car pulls up, Sam yells at Cas though the window that they'll talk soon and to keep Dean out of trouble. Cas gives him a thumbs up.

Dean gets back into the car after watching the taxi drive away until it's completely out of view. He hands the vamp case notes to Cas to read, instead Cas puts them aside on the seat. "It could be the six months, it could be the new body: this appears to be an empty copy, my host was spared the empty thankfully. Yes it could be the new body but you were right this pie is exactly to my taste"

"I don't want to know do I?"

"Indeed, you'd be mortified, it's a word you used a lot about your inner conflicts but, you've faced hell, I promise that voicing your thoughts isn't as terrible."

"Uh your coat and top are burned and falling apart, here have my jacket."

"I mean, voicing your feelings can get you sent to the empty but that's the worst case scenario"

"Nice. Reassuring." *goes quiet*

A phone dings, Cas pulls it out of the jacket. "You have a new message from Sam: "Eileen fine and well, two exclamation marks" aww, he's going to Eileen? She's wonderful isn't she? "meeting at station at 3am. Capital T, A L K and get answers from Cas you idiot skull emoji skull emoji laugh crying emoji"

"Vamps first... then I need a drink" Dean looks out of the window with a mixture of apprehension and giddiness, there's a small smile creeping across his lips that fades into seriousness, there's a flash of fear, then the smile returns with a tremor as if despite himself.

Various old friends are sat around in heaven: they reminisce, they can't know the boys future but they know it's nothing they can't handle, the senseless cruelty is over.

#Destiel #Saf #How a SPN hater was moved by the love it's fans had for the show #Enough to be haunted by a fix it end for an angel who found love and a broken bi-guy who can't believe he's lovable #SPN

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echoe-back-from-the-void · 10 months

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Supernatural x Twilight~ Pt.2

(Jasper multi shot)

(I’m sorry for the gif. But this is just so funny to me to write. I’m poisoning you with horrible fanfiction.)

| 1 | two | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

I drove down the road to the hospital and staked the place out. Sneaking inside to steal Dr Cullens schedule. He won’t be getting off for another hour so I waited in his car for him to leave. I waited laying down in the back of the car for him to get off. When he opened the door I held my machete to his neck.

“Vampire.”

“Are you the one my children are worried about.” The doctor asks calmly.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t associate with fangers. How many are in your nest?”

“Just myself, my wife and children.”

I snort, “fangs don’t have kids. You’re Just monsters that run on blood and hunger.”

“We don’t. We’re different.” I press the blade closer. “We don’t feed off humans. We eat animals. See.” He nods his head to the mirror. His eyes shine a bright golden color. “Our coven are not killers. We hunt the woods. Boar, deer, mountain lion, one of my sons likes bear.” He appeals calmly.

I think it’s the calmness that throws me off. The certainty and softness in the way he speaks. Love for his children and wife. I Slip my thumb along the base of the blade and even as the blood pearls he doesn’t react. I nod and pull my blade back to me. “Must be a good enough vampire to be a doctor.” I concede before opening the door and leaving his vehicle. I hear the window opening behind me and turn my head.

“Will you come after me again?” The doctor asks.

“Not if I don’t have to and I don’t want to.” I run my hand over my face. “I don’t kill unless it threatens human lives or my family.”

I see him nod his head before he backs out of the parking lot and leaves down the stretch of road. Most likely driving home to his nest to inform his wife and then their kids.

I shake my head and scuff my boot. Dean would call me a softie. Technically I should kill the entire coven. They threaten Bella’s life, time and time again in the future. If they become a threat then I will kill them, no different than a case.

I go back to the motel I continued to stay at, reapplying seals and sigils that would prevent any supernatural entry. This is the last straw, I’ll leave in the morning.

Time skip ~~

Due to reasons, which I suspect are foul play, I was again stopped by Chief Swan and escorted back to the school. I figured that I would play along and as soon as he leaves, book it out of this place.

Unfortunately due to what I’ve coined as hunters luck, I was then mobbed by Angela, Jessica and Bella. Like a stampede I was herded into the school and into my classes.

I could feel a ‘Cullen stare’ in every class and it set off every instinct to fight. Durning lunch their stare was increased tenfold and while I was not outwardly affected. Mentally I was a tiger pacing a cage. Ready to rip and tear my way out.

I grit my teeth and angrily bowed my head over my tightly clasped fists. I had lasted this long, I was glad I chose to sit by myself because of what I did next.

Looking around the lunchroom for wayward glances I bent my head down and began praying.

"Castiel, Angel of the lord, Angel of Thursday's and travel. Please get me the fuck out of here or give me guidance." I whispered into my balled fists that were clenched so tightly they turned white. I gave it a minute before I shook my hands and clasped them again. "Gabriel, Lucifer. Or whatever Angel who's got the radio on, I'm calling in a favor. Please!" I said in agitation. I waited for something happen but nothing did. No lightning, ringing bells or shattered glass. “I swear if I make it out of this shit show alive…” I didn’t finish my sentence because Jasper hale turned to me.

His face said confusion while the rest of him was tensed. Chuck, if he didn’t look pretty when he’s confused—I shook my head before glaring and standing to leave. I left the lunchroom and could feel as I was being followed. Under my breath I whispered. “Follow me, and I’ll expose you as what you are. I have nowhere else to run.”

The person continued to follow me but with more slack. I nodded to myself before climbing up to the roof. I knew that just because I was on a roof didn’t mean they couldn’t get me. But that is where I stayed for the remainder of the day. There was a constant feeling of being watched but I ignored it in favor of planning.

I withdrew some knives and the gun I had strapped to myself and began to sharpen and inspect every piece. It was all I could do to keep myself still.

This felt like any regular hunt but more electric. Adrenaline running fast enough to make my heart explode while being so calm I could plan seven different outcomes on a dime. When the bell rang I took that as signal to leave. I easily jumped off the roof and landed into a barrel roll before dusting myself off and making my way to my stolen vehicle. I tried starting the vehicle and was unsurprised when It didn’t start.

Bella came running over to see, “hey is everything alright? Do you need a ride?”

I put on my best easy going smile. “It’s alright. I just gotta Pop the hood and fix it. Happens all the time.” I lied easily.

I pretended to work on my car for the next thirty minutes while cars continued to clear out of the parking lot until it was only me and the Cullens.

I chuffed before turning around and leaning against my car. The short pixie, Alice and Edwardo began to walk toward me from their cars. I rolled my eyes and tilted my head mockingly. “My place or yours?”

Alice seemed to brush off the sarcasm and smiled blindingly. “Wed love for you to join us at our house so we can clear everything up.”

I reached behind me and scratched my head. “Rather not. See I told your coven leader that I would leave you alone. As long as you aren’t a threat to humans or my family. That sounded like a threat, pixie stix” I held the machete infront of me so they would stop their approach. “I’m obviously not being rescued so you know what, I don’t give two helleva shits what you do. I want out this town. Give me back my radiator cap.” I said waving the blade nonchalant.

“Emmet.” Edwardo said and soon the tall one had broken my machete. I looked between the broken blade and the lumbering giant before snarling.

“You son of a bitch!” I growled out, I could feel my adreniline spike before I lunged for him. Grappling him to the ground as we began to fight. I punched his torso while grabbing his arm and pulling him so he would roll over my back. I felt something crack in his arm and I held my foot over his throat when he was laying flat on the ground. The fight stalled before he pushed my foot off and we began to fight again. He picked me up and threw me. I stoped my fall by landing on all fours. Before I could lunge for him again I was held back by another pair of arms. I looked behind me to glance short golden hair.

“Let me go cowboy!” I growled while struggling. I could feel him falter before holding me tighter.

“Our family just wants to talk, Ma’am.” He responded in a unused voice, Texan accent thick.

“Yeah right, heard that shit before! I don’t care what you fuckers do to this town!” My adrenaline began to falter and I sank in his arms. “I just wanna go home. This game isn’t funny anymore.” I whined.

I was then led into a car with cowboy, emmet and Rosalie. I sat with my head back in the seat as I just drifted in my depression. We got to their home in under two minutes which didn’t surprise me at the speed they drove.

Jasper held my arm as he led me into the house where I was greeted by a smiling auburn woman. “Hello, I’m their mother Esme.”

Not outwardly responding I bowed my head lightly in greeting. I was led further into the house to a living room and asked to sit. I didn’t fight, I had lost all fight. I sat on the couch with my legs apart while I sank back and let my head rest over the back so I could examine the ceiling.

“Would you like anything to eat or drink?” Esme asked politely.

“Nothing against your hospitality but no thank you.” I said monotonously.

I did not talk no matter how they tried to coerce me. They don’t seem the type for torture and so I waited for their maker. Strangely, the cowboy, Jasper. Continued to sit beside me.

Everyone jumped to attention listening to the sound of the Good Doctor’s car and then the clinking as he unlocked the front door and then entered the living room.

I rolled my head to face forward and leaned over my knees to address him. “Good evening doctor Drac.” I said sarcastically.

“I really prefer Carlisle.” He said smoothly.

“I really don’t care. Due to interference I’m still stuck here. I could’ve been gone by morning but someone sent a Smokey after me.”

“I wanted to talk to you again.”

“I didn’t.”

“My family and I want to make it clear we are not a threat to humans. We can coexist peacefully.”

I waved my hand for him to stop. “Look Nosferatu, I don’t care. I’ve let fangers go before. There was a woman, Lenore, her coven fed on cows blood. We let her and her coven leave.” Under my breath I mumbled, “tried to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rosalie asked venomously.

“Was another hunter. Had it out for all fangs, kidnapped her and tempted her with blood. At first she was bloodthirsty before she began to reject it. Fucker killed her anyway, nothing me or my brothers could’ve done.”

“Are these the same brothers you call everyday before school? Sam and Dean?” Alice spoke up.

I jumped up ready to fight her when jaspers arm came across my midsection and pulled me down again.

“She meant no offense.” He said softly when he had me seated again. Calmness began to blanket me in a way that made me angry.

“Don’t patronize me, cowboy.” I said heatedly.

“Earlier you said you didn’t want to play this game anymore? What game?” Edwardo asked taking my attention away from Jasper.

I chuffed before turning to the coven leader, “got any whiskey?”

“Aren’t you…”

“I’m 22, yeah, I look 16 going on 17. I just went with it when the cop picked me up. Wasn’t gonna waste my fake IDs on some Smokey.” I said cutting him off. In a flash he was back with a glass of whiskey. I kindly accepted it before throwing it back without pause. “Better than any dive bar.” I rolled my neck as I felt it kicking in. A sudden feeling of trust and family began to bleed into the blanket calmness. I turn to the person in question. “Don’t toy with my emotions, I know what your doing.”

I turned back to the doctor. “Want the beginning beginning or just cliff notes?”

“The beginning please.”

“I was born in a family of two hunters, in a world unlike your own. Monsters roam the earth, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, djinn, wendigos, skin walkers.” I paused.

“I wasn’t raised like the other kids, most hunters have a kid and wanna settle down, leave that life. Bout as easy as leaving the mafia. My parents didn’t want to settle down. I was raised from the age of four to carry a gun with silver shells and rock salt rounds, a blade and holy water. I had exorcisms and monster research for bedtime stories. I killed my first ghost at five.” I said proudly. “Like I said the life was hard to leave but having a kid with you just makes you a bigger target. They died in a werewolf attack around 8 and I went on to bounce around with other hunters until I started going solo around 14. Nothing to big, I looked pretty young so I couldn’t really do the whole, ‘I’m a cop, tell me everything’. Just went and killed things, helping people. Met the Winchesters after Dean got out of hell. Went for sellin his soul for Sammy. I’d join them on a couple hunts and met some of their big Bads.” I smiled widely. “Some of em didn’t like me too much. Crowley, the king of hell, oooh we have fun. Shot me in the shoulder, got em back some.”

“There was Gabriel, of course at the time he was under witness protection as Loki. He likes games, made us relive the same day over and over and over again while dean died over and over. A real Groundhog Day. Then put us all in a rolling commercial. Archangel’s got juice to create separate realities and stuff. But I think we’re on truce with him.”

“Archangel, hell? Like the hell?” Carlisle asked in confusion.

“H-e-double hockey stix, doc. All real, never been of course. And the angels are real too, great bag of dicks with wings, cept Cas. Castiel pulled dean out of the pit, of course that started the apocalypse; but semantics ya know. Then there was Lucifer rising.”

“You called out to him and them in the cafeteria?” Alice asked.

“I’m tired of their games. I want to go home. I want out of this warped reality! I want—my brothers.” I said defeatedly. “We were on a ghoul hunt, nasty bitches, and we had just finished and were walking to baby, my brothers car, when I’m no longer with them. I’m on the road outside your town and I just keep walking. I call every number! And I get nothing! I thought I was just on the other side of the country. I tell myself; they’ll come for me. And if this is some kidnapping then I can wait to find my captor, I can play along. My brothers will come find me.” I end softly.

“If it was Crowley, he’d have come to gloat by now or play cards at least. If it was Loki there would be more candy and mischief. That leaves dear old Satan. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s held me captive.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Held you captive. Your not captive. Your.” Edward asked.

“Your missing the best part, edweird, this is a prison world. You all are characters from a book series geared toward young adults. The love story of Edward and Bella.” I say laughingly before sobering up. “Never read the damn books, was too busy. Dean saw the movies because some chick made him watch it.” I snorted. “Didn’t realize I was even in the book until you stopped Bella’s car. I was so pissed! Me in some pansy ass vampire romance novel. Fucking shoot me.” I snarled the last sentence. I looked disapprovingly at the empty glass and regretted shooting it back. “Can I have more?”

Esme looked disapprovingly but Carlisle did refill my glass. I tipped it toward the matriarch. “I promise you I’m not getting sloshed off two glasses, no matter how old it is.” I sipped the glass in appreciation.

“You called us fangs, and fangers?” Jasper said from beside me. His family continually watched him when he would move or shift. Wincing when he had pulled me back down earlier.

“Ya know, fangers, vampires?” I put my fingers over my mouth in mock fangs. “Fangs.”

He showed no outward reaction so I leaned over and lifted the corner of his lip. I blinked in confusion, when I lifted higher and did it see the cavity where the teeth extended from. “Say ah and hold this.” I handed him my whiskey and put my finger further in his mouth, poking and prodding for fangs. I pulled back in disbelief. “Seriously?! What kind of vampire hadn’t got fangs?! That’s inconvenient as all hell! So what you just slurpy the vein?” I fell back into the couch and gazing at the ceiling and grumbled. “I fucking hate twilight.”

I turn to the doctor, he had a tense expression and was watching Jasper out the corner of his eyes. “What?”

“It’s Just, Jasper is the newest to our diet and—“

“You think he’ll attack me?” I snorted. “I’d put cowboy on his ass.”

“She could, Carlisle.” Emmet said before shows casing his arm that had spiderwebbing cracks running through it. “She can crack us.”

“Wicked.” I said nonchalantly.

“Not wicked, you shouldn’t be able to do that!” Rosalie argued. “We should kill her and be done with it.”

“Come at me grease monkey.” I threatened.

Again Jasper distracted me by handing me back my glass and trying to calm me with his ability. I began to explain myself “In my world, you don’t crack, the only way to kill a fang is to behead them, preferably with a machete. You broke my machete so I said fuck it and started fighting. Not first time I’ve been out of options.” I sipped the drink again. “No matter what happens on a hunt, you don’t give up until the monster is dead. Too many good hunters get caught and killed by the things we hunt. It’s a cycle. As many hunters die, new hunters are born. Some because they seen the things that go bump and others who just want answers.”

Alice perked up and flounced toward me making me tense. “You said your brother had watched the movies. So that means you know what happens next.”

“I know you got some royalty, I’d compare that to the alpha vampire. I know Bella and edweird get together, married, have a kid. Something is going down with the natives, you got beef with them. There’s a war, two actually. One against newborns and another against the royals, but dean said It was a premonition and then there was no war.” I rubbed my forehead. “I didn’t pay attention he would just keep talking about the chick and her—” I shook my head and leaned back “never mind.”

“We aren’t real?” Jasper asked in confusion.

“You are, that’s the wonder of the multiverse theory. Every story is another world, with its own rules. Your reality is as real as mine. This isn’t some fever dream, I really am in another reality, it’s not impossible, told you that archangel’s have the juice for things like that.” I swirled the liquid in the glass as I thought over my next words. “I’ve been here a month, I laid low, I stayed put. I prayed for fuck sake. If I make it out of here I’m gonna shoot chuck, that’d be nice.”

“Chuck?”

“God. Ya know big G.” I snorted and took a deep gulp of the amber liquid that tasted like honey. “God is a disappoint, if any of you were praying when you were alive, then you were wasting breath.” I chuckled to myself as I held my hand over my mouth to muffle my amusement. “God left after the first ‘pocalypse, couldn’t stand the fighting. God’s been absent since the beginning.” I said sardonically.

“You’ve met god?” Edward said with extreme skepticism.

“Met him? We thought he was a fucking prophet!! He was masquerading as a man named Chuck Shurly while he wrote books about my brothers. Dean was pissed when he found out that every little thing they did was being written for the masses. Their blood shed and pain were broadcast and mocked! My brothers ain’t perfect but for someone to write down their darkest moments like that—” I ran my hand over my face. “Chuck is lucky to have his head.” I said darkly.

“Your world, do you know how to get back?” Carlisle asked.

“I might. Go back to the source. Look for markings or any disturbances.” I looked outside the numerous windows to find it was already dark. “That can wait for tomorrow. For now I just wanna go back to my motel and watch reruns of M*A*S*H while I paint my tonsils.” I stood up and tipped back the last of my drink before setting it on the table and approaching Rosalie. “I’d like my radiator cap back?” I said holding out my hand.

“How do you know I took it?” She sneered.

“I know a grease monkey when I see em.” I answered and then the cap was back in my hand. “Thanks.”

“Will you be leaving town?” Jasper asked as he sped to my side.

“Don’t see how I can. I see you as much as you see me. We are at an impasse. Your coven is not a threat to me and I’m not a threat to you. But you wouldn’t let me leave even if I wanted too. I say I’ll keep your secret but you have no reason to trust me.”

“So, you will be staying?” Jasper asked again.

“For the time being. Cmon cowboy, you’re driving me back to my car.” I said pulling his collar as I walked.

“That might not be the best idea. Jasper—” Carlisle began.

“I’m fine.” Jasper added quickly and his hand hovered behind me, not quite touching as he led me out the door.

His hand never came in contact with my back even as he led me to the car and opened my door. Soon we were barreling down the dirt road and back to the school.

I had my hand on the door and he was already opening it from the other side. “Charming.” I said sarcastically. “I always knew Chivalry was dead.” I joked and he quirked a smile.

I walked to my car and popped the hood and began to maneuver the cap back on. I had expected him to excuse himself and leave but he didn’t. He stood beside my hood as he watched me work with rapt attention. “It’s Not like it’ll blow up.” I said raising my eyebrow at his strange behavior.

“You know what your doing.” He explained.

“Course I do. Dean would have a fit if my car wasn’t in tip too shape. Keeps his the same too, he drives a 1967 Chevy Impala. Badest car ever. When I first joined em he would show me how to tune up a car because he wanted me to get my own. Found a Chevrolet chevelle and he helped me fix it up till it was road ready. Sammy doesn’t like old cars as much, so Dean was always happy to show me how to fix them and make them new again. It was—is my favorite memory of my brothers.” I paused before backing up. “Move your hands.” Was the only warning I gave the vampire before I shut the hood.

I walked to the driver door and started the engine with a smile. “She may be stolen but that’s no excuse to neglect her.” I turned to the cowboy who had continued to keep me company. I pondered the actions he took today and recently. While I did feel an attraction to the honey haired male I did not feel ambition to per-sue such novelty. I closed my driver side door and he walked closer to my open window to talk more.

“Could I accompany you to your lodgings?” He asked with a near pout.

“Lodgings? Cowboy I’m going to a bar before I go home. Unless you want to buy my whiskey, go home.” I said thinking he would back down.

Instead he chose to flash to my passenger side and open the door. “You vampires are unbelievable.” I muttered before putting the truck in gear.

#twilight #jasper hale #supernatural fluff #supernatual #vampire #the winchester brothers #multi shot #twihard #multishot

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