#Dean’s deep fear of Sam not choosing him when it matters most so he doesn’t even allow him the choice because he is so afraid that Sam will | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sortasirius · 3 years

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“Inherit the Earth” and the Fakeout

Absolutely genius. Amazing, iconic, legendary, something only our showrunner Andrew Dabb can pull off.

"But Lilly, the episode was so bad! It was just the brothers, they didn’t look for Cas and Eileen!”

YES. THAT IS EXACTLY THE POINT. THIS WAS A FAKE ENDING, THE END OF THE SEASON, NOT OF THE SERIES.

Let’s get into it.

An empty world. No one left but Sam, Dean, and Jack.

So Dean ran, he somehow managed to pick himself up off the floor of the dungeon and meet up with Sam and Jack. That jacket was this silent reminder. Remember what I’ve been saying, Cas has occupied the negative space all season, this is no exception.

Dean can’t look either of them in the face, he’s doing that thing, where his eyes move everywhere BUT where he should look.

“I couldn’t save anybody.”

Sam couldn’t save the world and Dean couldn’t save the one person that means the world to him.

“Where’s Cas?”

“Dean?”

I think it’s there, in that pause where Dean tries to push down the emotions, continue the fight, not think about the memories he left in the bunker, that Jack realizes what must have happened. Jack is the only one that knows about the deal, he has to know what Cas not being there must mean.

“He saved me. Billie was coming after us. Cas summoned the Empty. It took her...and took him. Cas is gone.”

This may shock you, but I am GLAD they didn’t talk about Cas, especially with what happens at the end of the episode. Cas is allowed to just take up unsaid space. It’s obvious he’s missing with the way they blocked things, obvious he’s missing here. This whole “oh well they don’t care about Cas because they didn’t talk about him”? Malarkey.

“Jack I’m sorry.”

Guilt. Regret. Pain. Dean will carry this with him for the rest of his life. Not only that he lost Cas, but that Sam lost Cas, that Jack lost Cas.

That SHOT, with the distance between Jack and Sam where Cas is SUPPOSED TO BE, and then a zoom out to...THE WORLD.

Okay, as usual, Bucklemming has the subtlety of a sledgehammer lmao.

Jack crying??? Praying to Cas???? Bruh?????

Also it’s just straight-up frightening for everything around my boy to die he is my baby son.

Also not to point out the incredibly obvious, but Dean starts drinking immediately, and continues drinking throughout the whole episode. Grief arc 2.0 babey.

“We can what, Dean? There’s no one left to save! Everybody’s gone!”

“You can’t just give up.”

“What other choice do we have!”

Idk why, but for Sam, who’s the constant, the one who’s always had hope, through everything, through all these years, when he finally says this, when he finally loses his hope? It hits the hardest. Sam is the leader, so not only is he grieving the loss of Eileen, he is a general grieving the loss of his soldiers, his friends, the world that he feels the duty to save.

When they go to meet Chuck, I just can’t get that image of Dean, leaning against the car, handprint still on his jacket, staring at the ground out of my head. It takes him a few seconds to catch up to Sam, like he’s pulled out of thoughts like deep dark water. Remember friends, it doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.

Chuck wearing BLACK? FEAR.

“That’s right, the whole Cain and Abel thing. Us dead, whatever. I’ll kill Sam, Sam’ll kill me, we’ll kill each other. Okay, you pick. But first? You gotta put everything back the way it was. The people, the birds...Cas. You gotta bring him back.”

Willing to kill his brother. Willing to die. Tears in his eyes, begging God to bring Cas back.

And Chuck? Chuck doesn’t care about their surrender, he knows he’s already got them beaten. He cares about their pain, he cares about them suffering, because to him? That’s the entertainment. He’s not entertained by their found family, by their happiness, by their joy. He wants them to suffer, all of them.

“Eternal shame. Suffering. And loneliness.”

And he leaves them with just that. No hope, no family, just the three of them, broken, alone. Jack locked in his bedroom, Sam trying desperately to make life “normal” again. And Dean. Dean who drank so much he passed out on the floor.

He doesn’t feel terrific, he feels like shit, because not only is he dealing with the shame of an empty planet, he’s dealing with the guilt of being back in the place where the Empty took Cas.

This whole thing with the dog was just absolutely heartwrenching shit and if I didn’t hate Chuck before, him snapping Miracle right in front of an already fragile Dean would seal that deal.

I just want everyone to know that this is a Jake Abel stan account.

“Daddy’s boy” is a big insult for my boy Dean to use considering his own past with his trash abusive father but I’ll allow it.

I do think it’s interesting, ending of his arc aside, that Michael is willing to help them now. What changed? Sure, he ended up trying to help Chuck, running back to his father, but why get back in the game? I wonder if it has anything to do with the loss of Adam. It’s an interesting parallel, a man loses his angel while an angel loses his human.

Everything is so DARK in the Bunker now too, even the lighting is loud.

When I tell you I lost my shit when I saw Cas was calling Dean, when I heard Misha’s voice?? I knew it didn’t make any sense but I didn’t care, I would’ve been one step behind Dean as he sprinted towards the door.

Fuck you, Eugenie.

I mean it’s torture not only to Dean, who looks beyond fucking crushed when it’s damn Lucifer at the door, but for us too. Who the FUCK wanted Lucifer back? And to tease Cas??? Garbage.

I mean...fam. Listen, we know who’s writing this episode, this whole Betty thing is just like blatantly unnecessary but again, Eugenie loves Lucifer, gotta distract her with a shiny toy lmao.

It was cool to see Michael and Lucifer onscreen together. It was a cool dynamic that we rarely got to see.

The whole episode is just twist after twist. Listen, it’s their last episode so I guess they needed to fit in a season worth of twists in one episode.

Bye Lucifer. We know Eugenie can’t bring him back. Blessings to all.

This scene with Adam is the FOURTH scene where Dean is drinking...big yikes to my guy’s liver.

Here’s the thing about Michael. He’s a mirror for Dean in season 5. Loyal to an absent father. He has never changed, but Dean has. Dean is able to acknowledge now, the trauma that his father put him through, he was able to move past the need for pleasing him at any cost. Michael and Chuck? Are John and Dean, if Dean had never been allowed to grow. And Chuck proves, like John did, that he would always put his wants (in John’s case “the mission”) over his children.

Also not to beat a dead horse but Michael’s death was also peak Eugenie.

Sam getting to punch Chuck in the face? Thank you, he deserves that.

Obviously I don’t love any scene of my boys getting brutally beaten. But what I love, what I will always love about them, is what Chuck hates about them: they won’t ever give up. They know they won’t win against him, they don’t even land any hits, but that’s not what matters. What matters is their controller doesn’t control them anymore, that they really are free. No matter how hard they get hit, the get back up. It is their choice to stand up to him, no matter the cost.

The moment where Sam and Dean are supporting each other, covered in blood, and they look God in the face, and they laugh. That is why I will love them unconditionally for the rest of my life. That is who they are, they will never cow to the villain, whether that’s Azazel or Alastair or Zachariah or Lucifer or Amara or Death or Metatron or Cain or God. They will always choose to stand up.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because. You lose.”

Chills. What a line.

And Chuck is left, small, human, no longer a villain, no longer anything.

Gotta be real, woulda been nice to, idk, not see all this essential plot in a flashback, but I know I can only ask so much of Bucklemming.

For Dean to walk away from killing Chuck, right after he’s called him “the ultimate killer” is quite simply the most beautifully heartwrenching thing I could ever ask for. Because that’s who Dean was under Chuck, that’s who Chuck wanted him to be.

And he would have before:

But he’s heard some things since then, heard some things about how others see him. Not as the killer, not as a monster, not as angry and broken or his daddy’s blunt instrument:

I’m not saying that Dean doesn’t kill Chuck for Cas. He doesn’t kill Chuck because he doesn’t think he has to anymore, he doesn’t kill Chuck because he listened to Cas, he took Cas’ words to heart. He made the choice not to be the killer.

“See that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are.”

And Chuck is angry, because he thought, after everything, even after losing, that he would still know Dean well enough to know that he would kill him. But Chuck has never really known Dean, he has never understood where he’s really come from. Cas understood, Sam and Jack understand, but Chuck never did, and writing off Dean as angry and broken is his biggest mistake, because that’s never been Dean.

“It’s not his power anymore.”

And it’s not just his physical power, it’s his power over the story, over the boys that’s the real power taken from him.

For Jack to be the one to bring everyone back, for him to be the hero of the story? That’s poetic right there. Now, I will say, I don’t think this story ends with him as God, because for him, the child, to take on this burden, it doesn’t make a ton of sense to me for his arc, but we shall see next week. It felt pretty tied up, but there’s one major loose end: and that’s Jack seeing Cas again.

“Just you and me, going wherever the story takes us. Just us.”

“Finally free.”

This doesn’t feel triumphant to me, it doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like they’ve settled, like this is the best they’re going to get, so they might as well make the best of it, at least they have each other.

For Cas and Jack to be carved into the table? I cry.

And for the montage, very similar to “Swan Song” to be set to “Runnin on Empty”? Sorry but that’s just too sus to be ignored.

They packaged this episode as an ending, because for many, it might be. The season’s story, the season about fighting Chuck is over. So, you might be asking (or, well, screaming, judging by my replies lol), what’s left? And that’s a good question, Chuck has been defeated, so what is left? What’s left is what’s really mattered all season: the relationships that have been crafted over the years. Dean and Sam’s unhappiness at the end of the episode, where “just you and me” sounded more of a grudging acceptance than anything else, is one of the clues that has to be looked at. Why didn’t Sam find Eileen, why didn’t Jack bring back Cas? Those two characters specifically are the ones we need to watch out for. As I’ve said over and over again, peace, contentment, satisfaction, those don’t come from Sam and Dean on the open road together anymore. They have a family, more of a family than they did when they started hunting together all those years ago, and that family is what holds them together. They need each other, of course, but each other isn’t enough anymore. Sam needs Eileen, Dean needs Cas. That is where they will find their peace.

This episode, as many written by Bucklemming was sloppy, rushed, packed full of shit, and had little gems that we can talk about forever, but that was the end of the season, and next week? Andrew Dabb brings us home, where Dean and Sam will finally be able to choose what they want for themselves, and that, my friends, is Eileen and Cas.

#supernatural #spn #spoilers #my meta #spn 15x19 #destiel #saileen

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zmediaoutlet · 3 years

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in support of Texas relief, @wincest-endgame donated $25, and requested Sam & the amulet through the years. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

(read on AO3)

Dean pushes Sam into the bathroom, after what feels like a day of questioning and caution and Dean being withholding—he's so bad at it, Sam doesn't know why he even tries—and Bobby avoiding Sam's eyes—and Sam'll figure that out, eventually—but it's really only four in the afternoon, and he's got food in his belly for the first time in what feels like a week but he's assured is a year, and he's had a beer and a cup of coffee and Dean's squeezed his arm, on his bicep just above the bend of his elbow, and looked into his eyes for a full heart-rich moment when Bobby was on the phone in the kitchen and couldn't see—and they didn't do anything, of course they didn't, not in Bobby's house, but Sam closed the door behind himself with that look thick in his head, the knowing that Dean was safe and okay and that Lucifer didn't hurt him—that everyone was okay, that what he'd done by jumping into the cage had worked when he hadn't been sure, not at all, that it would—and he still doesn't really know how he got out but he'll get that out of Dean eventually—and he turns on the shower and smiles at the rickety jump of the hot water because, holy shit, he's alive to suffer Bobby's godawful shower—and he pulls the shirt off over his head, and unbuttons his jeans, and fishes in his pocket for his phone and his wallet like he always does—and finds a new phone that he doesn't recognize, which makes him frown, a wallet that he does, and—the amulet.

The air goes out of him. The shower's guttering down, getting warm at last. He hears Dean's voice through the door, saying something to Bobby although Sam doesn't know what. Sam twines the leather cord around his fingers and crushes the little metal head in his palm, standing there in his socks and boxers. He didn't lose it. Somehow he—hadn't thought about it, until now, but now that he has he just—assumed it'd be gone. He's not in the same clothes he was wearing before he fell, so—did Dean—? He doesn't know and in this second doesn't care. He brings his closed fist up to his mouth, the cord thin and worn against his lips. He breathes in, slow.

The last time he held it in his hand was—Detroit. Milkjugs of blood sitting in the trunk. Dean—somewhere, talking to Cas maybe, and Sam alone, and Sam was alone a lot then. It feels like yesterday. He'd felt distant somehow. Even if Dean had forgiven him, or at least had been willing to try to forgive him. Ever since the second he'd made the decision to say yes, and decided to make Dean agree, it was like he'd been one step outside his life, looking in. Watching Dean try to accept it and knowing Dean never would. Watching Dean, with his hands in his pockets, and his hand curled so hard around the amulet that the horned edge had actually cut into his palm and he'd bled, inside his jeans. Not minding that and squeezing it tighter. Reminding himself why what he was doing mattered so he wouldn't falter. He wasn't going to falter.

Lucifer had healed that little wound without even acknowledging it. Sam remembers that if nothing else. He opens his hand and he's made sore white marks where the edges of the demon-head have cut into his palm. The shower hisses, next to him, and there's a thump of the side of a fist against the door—"Hey, princess, don't take forever on the primping," Dean says, muffled, the idiot—christ, Sam loves him.

He looks up at the door, startled. Creak of floorboards outside, like Dean's just standing there. Sam blinks at the peeled paint, and calls back, "Dude, it's my first shower in a year, hold your horses," and Dean says, "Yeah, yeah," and Sam closes his hand around the amulet again, his chest—thick. He can't take a full breath. He stoops, and loops the amulet cord around itself three times, four, and tucks it back down into the deepest corner of the pocket of his jeans. He crouches there for a second, feeling—feeling. The steam in the air curls against his skin. He has to stand up. Take the shower, get into fresh clothes, get back out into the house, figure things out. Figure where the world is, after a year without him in it. He crouches there, instead, taking in air. There's a little spot on his jeans, he realizes. Worn, nearly white, where something's made a space for itself. You wouldn't notice the difference, if you saw it every day, but with a jump of time between the last time he wore these jeans and now—it's obvious.

Of course it was longer than a year. Of course there were things Dean didn't tell him. Soulless, Sam thinks, trying the word out by himself, when Castiel's left and Sam's waiting for Dean to get back with the sword. Soulless. Not—a good thing to be. He's pretty sure.

Things that are described as soulless: corporations, governments. His comparative philosophy professor in junior year. Soulless due to lack of consideration, due to lacking character, due to—what? Indifference. Cruelty.

When they got to Portland, Dean picked the motel by turning into a random parking lot off the highway, and Sam hauled most of their bags in because he could tell Dean was tired after all the driving, and he'd barely made it through blinking at the one king bed before the door slammed behind Dean and Dean hauled him around by the jacket and gripped his shirt and said low and fervent, Sammy, if you don't want to you're gonna have to knock me out, and Sam dropped the bags right there in the entrance and got his hand on Dean's face and dragged his thumb soft over Dean's pretty lower lip and felt how Dean tensed, and then how the tension spilled out of him like water.

He doesn't get it. He walked around, he was told, without a soul, for a year. More than a year. Castiel was very precise about it. He'd left Dean with Lisa and found his grandfather, instead—his grandfather!—and he'd hunted. When they came to Dean it was by accident, Castiel said, and then when Dean had started hunting with Sam it had seemed to be for convenience, rather than something that meant—anything. Shifters, alphas. Vampires. Castiel knew all of it and told Sam earnestly, not judging. Sam had tried to kill Bobby but it was all right, Castiel said, because Dean had gotten so fearful and sick that he'd let himself die, to speak to Death, to make Sam right. He would have died, if Sam hadn't gotten right. It had been worth that. It had been that bad.

There's a text, from Dean. Sorta got the sword. Back in 8 hrs. Want any sourdough?

Sorta? Sam chews his lip. Just the dragon-killing magic weapon, thanks, he texts back, and Dean texts him a :) and Sam puts down his phone and stands up from the table and wants to vomit. Jesus christ. Soulless, he thinks, again, and pulls the amulet out of his pocket, winding the cord around his knuckles, staring at it.

He kept it. Somehow, some way. A year and more. From however he got spit out of the cage, from looking at Dean and choosing to turn away from him, to having Dean back and treating him like—he shudders. His indifferent callous body, carving an efficient line through the world. Sam wants to remember and doesn't. He does want to know what the exact moment was like, when he stuck his hand in his pocket standing on a street under a flickering lamp, watching Dean through a window like a damn pervert, and felt the amulet skin-warmed and heavy against his skin, and thought—what?

He puts it back in his pocket. Eight hours, until Dean gets back. Sam drags his hand over his mouth. When he shifts he can feel it—a little, nagging weight, pressed against his thigh. A year and a half of that with no reason to keep it. With all the reason in the fucking world to keep it. He blows out air until his chest is empty. Eight hours. He'd better have something to show for it. He gets to work.

He remembers, of course, later. Fractured, incomplete. Three selves' memories colliding and sleepless nights with a monster whispering in his ear. He curls on his side in a too-warm bed and watches Dean, curled beside him, sleeping. Frowning in his sleep. Lucifer says, though Sam ignores him, "Imagine how much easier he'd have had it at Lisa's, right? Bet she wore sweet little nightgowns, too. Where's yours, Sammy?"

In the cage he hadn't worn the amulet around his neck, not like he had in the year of Dean's absence. Lucifer didn't allow that. Sometimes he would crouch alone in the dark while Lucifer and Michael fought and he'd get space to breathe although breathing there always felt like the coldest depth of a North Dakota January. Shards of ice in his throat. The air thin. The air, of course, not real, but no matter how much Sam's conscious brain tries to rationalize when he has a moment to think, the cage isn't a place for rationality. Lucifer throttles him and Sam knows distantly that his lungs aren't real but he chokes anyway. He chokes. The air whittled thin in his throat and the edges of his vision vignetting to black, to sparkle-shot oxygenless, uncertain—

He turns his head, gasps deep. "Aw, thought I had you there," he hears, and turns fully onto his back, and they didn't bother undressing tonight before Dean crashed miserably into the mattress so he's still got his jeans on, and he shoves his hand into his pocket and wraps his hand around the amulet and squeezes so hard the horned heavy edges tear into his thin unhealed skin and the pain—god, the pain, piercing, cleansing.

It hurts. The room's quiet, except for the rattle of the heater under the window. Dean's breath, at his side. Not quite a snore. Sam's bleeding. He can feel the bandage getting wet. He curls his hand tighter and fumbles in the dark. A hitch—Dean's baby snore, interrupted—and Sam goes shh, as soft as he physically can, and Dean huffs and turns over and puts his face on Sam's shoulder, and Sam squeezes his hip through his jeans very gently, settling down. Lucifer will be back, he knows. When it's worst. When he thinks he's nearly fallen asleep. When Dean wakes up, in the pre-dawn because he has to piss, and he leans in first and kisses Sam's jaw, rough and sleepy with his breath rank, when Sam loves him just—the absolute most—Lucifer will ruin it. Even if Sam knows it isn't real it's as predictable as it is gutting.

He pulls his fist out of his pocket, amulet included. Dean won't wake for—what time is it?—hours. He turns his head toward Dean's, presses his lips against the warmth of his hair. He settles his fist on his chest. If the blood spills—well, it won't be the first time Sam's lost a shirt to blood.

Taking the amulet out of the trash wasn't a decision, when he did it. When animals are cornered their lashing out is survival, nothing else. He kept it because—he had to keep it. It wasn't possible that it be left where it was. An indifferent housekeeper dumping it into the mixed refuse of a half-dozen rooms; a trip to a dumpster, and then a dump, to be lost. No.

They had—

Sam knew it didn't matter in the face of what came later but he still felt it. That day. Vermont, autumn. The leaves dark red in the setting sun, or red just because they were. Immaterial, with Dean's back against the tree and his face tipped up to Sam's. Shocked. Sam's fingers on his jaw and then trailing down his throat, hooking into the cord of the amulet and pulling, down, to the demon-head, and Dean letting that tiny insignificant weight tip him forward so he met Sam's mouth when Sam offered it. The bodywarm of it against Sam's thumb when Dean's lips touched his, and how his hand closed into a fist on instinct, shocked too.

Whatever betrayals had come later. Whatever misunderstandings and miseries. There was still that day, and all the days before. This solid thing that had marked Dean as Sam's brother, for all the months and years marching all the way back to that stupid, shitty Christmas morning, five a.m. cold and disappointing, and Sam making the first decision that was really his own that he'd ever made. Handing over the shitty little packet of a gift he hadn't picked, and Dean looking at him with this—rare, uncertain happiness. Not willing to take it, in case it'd be snatched away like everything else had been.

Maybe that hadn't been a decision either, in retrospect. It was Sam's first day, in a hunted life that wasn't one he'd chosen, and maybe that was just instinct. Looping something around Dean's throat and saying, please. Dean had taken it. Said yes. Tossing it in the trash, later—well, Sam didn't blame him, but and he understood if the yes was retracted, but—Sam couldn't let it go. Even if he was the only one who remembered. Even if, ever after, even if they hurt each other and found each other again and circled each other like twin stars in an uncertain orbit—even if they met, in a dark room, and Dean said to him soft and sorry, Sammy, I swear, and Sam dragged Dean's body over the top of his and took the weight and feel of him like a payment, due—even then. He kept the damn thing, quiet, and his.

It didn't even register, after a while. It transferred from jeans to duffle to backpack to jacket. Part of the morning pat-check, unthinking unless something was missing: phone wallet amulet keys. Amelia never asked about it. Gadreel never interfered with it. When Dean was a demon Sam got up every morning in an empty bed and took a shower and carefully lifted his sling over his head and being ready for the day meant sling wallet keys amulet phone list of contacts he hadn't burned through yet and it just—felt like part of him. He thought about it as much as he thought about his lung.

On the day that Dean almost killed him Sam got dressed without thinking because there were more important things than thinking, and he put on jeans and he put on his boots and he put on shirt, shirt, jacket, and he dragged his hand through his hair instead of combing it, and he put in his pockets keys phone amulet wallet and he stood there, then, in the total quiet of the bunker, and took the amulet back out of his pocket. He looked at it in his palm. Small, heavy. The cord looping back over his knuckles. Dean had had to get new ones, he remembered. The leather ones kept wearing through, because Dean wore it every second: sleeping, waking, in the shower. When they were in bed, and Sam folded Dean in close against his chest, and Dean's lips brushed his jaw, and Sam slipped careful fingers under the cord, worrying at it. If only he'd known, then, the things he had to worry about.

He put the amulet back in his pocket. He went to Dean's room, in the bunker, and found the pictures Dean didn't keep very well hidden, and flicked past the ones of them together until he found the one of their mother. That, maybe. That would work. It wasn't fair, that day, to try to pretend anything else would, and as far as what mattered more to Sam—that was his problem, he thought, and nothing that needed to bother Dean. It was important, he thought, to be realistic.

"Give us a minute," Dean says.

"Dean," Sam says, appalled.

Chuck—Chuck? Jesus christ—jesus christ! Sam thinks. Chuck looks entertained, standing there in his sneakers—his Chucks! Jesus christ!—and his jeans and his simple short body and how he's—he's—

"Dude, seriously," Dean says, impatient, and Chuck raises his hands like surrender and says, "Hey, no, I get it! You've got stuff to talk about! Just say my name when you're ready, we've got all the time in the world, I'm sure my sister isn't planning the imminent destruction of all creation," and he winks, and then—disappears, jesus christ because Chuck is GOD—

"Sammy," Dean says, firm.

"Dean," Sam says back, immediately, "what are you doing—holy shit, do you realize—"

"Sam," Dean says, in a different tone, and Sam's gut jolts, hooked. Diverted.

The bunker, quiet around them. They're in the map room and the lights are all on full, bright and warm. Dean's looking at him and Sam—they've been good, it's been good, for months and months—the best it's ever been, even better than those first heady days when they were learning each other, young and reckless—and even with all that, Sam's nervous, somehow.

"How you doing, Sammy," Dean says, eyes narrow.

Sam lets out a sharp breath.

Dean seems surprised at the lack of answer and his chin tips up. He looks at Sam steadily. Sam doesn't know what he's supposed to say and so stays silent, and Dean keeps looking at him and then slides his hand into his pocket, and pulls out—of course.

He holds it low, in front of himself, dangling from two fingers. The heavy pendulum sway. Dean's eyes are low, fixed on it, but Sam's watching Dean's face.

There are obvious things to say that Dean doesn't say and Sam's grateful for it. "You took the other one," is what Dean says, and he doesn't look up to see Sam frown confusion but he must sense it, somehow, because he continues: "From that—jesus, Sam. From that play, that the girls put on. When I came out to the car the next morning it was gone. Doesn't seem fair. You got the prop and the real thing, both."

"Sorry," Sam says, and Dean says, "Christ," and takes the three long steps across the room to where Sam's got his back to a pillar and kisses him. Sam takes it, breathing in. Not soft, not that giving sweet that Dean can be, but it's Dean's mouth and therefore it's a miracle, every time.

Dean pulls back. His brow rolls against Sam's, brief, and then he sets down from where he lifted up on his toes, and he looks at Sam from six inches, their hips pressed together. The amulet swings against Sam's stomach, from where Dean's hands are fisted on his sternum.

"Sammy," Dean says, and Sam takes a deep breath and says, "I didn't mean to keep it—secret."

It's a lie and a bad one. He doesn't know why he said it that way but he doesn't know a truer one. He didn't—make a decision about it. It was just that…

Dean doesn't call him on it. "You said," he starts, and then his cheek sucks in on one side. Sam notices for the first time how tired his eyes are. It was a long day. The fog and the people they couldn't save. He folds one hand over one of Dean's, pressed against his chest, and Dean's eyes dip, and maybe that makes it easy enough because Dean says, "Sam, I wouldn't choose her."

Sam takes a deep breath. Their hands rise, all knotted together. Dean says, "It kills me, Sammy. That you think I'd—but I wouldn't. If it were any choice, if I could—make it how I wanted it to be. I wouldn't, not fuckin' once," and Sam says, "I know," just to stop Dean from talking, with his voice thickening up that way.

God's somewhere, waiting in the wings. Sam doesn't give a shit, anymore. Dean's mouth turns up at one corner but it's not happy, and Sam slides his free hand up Dean's side, gripping through his jacket, trying. However he knows how to try. "I know," he says, again, because—christ, he does. That nasty awful fog doesn't get to take this from him. "Dean, I told you before. Whatever she makes you—think, or do. I got it. I can handle it."

Dean bites his lips between his teeth and he looks down. His thumb catches the swinging cord of the amulet. "You know," Dean says, echoing. A question, buried down in it.

He hasn’t said it, specifically, out loud or internally or even when he prayed, back when he thought that praying was something that mattered, but: Sam hates Amara. Hates every aspect of her, baby to adult to imagined vision to physical manifestation to the haunted look, in Dean's eye, when he thinks Sam isn't looking. Hates how she makes Dean doubt. Hates how she makes Dean afraid. Hates every fragment of her that draws Dean's attention away, makes him look into the shadows of the room, makes him weak and afraid of his own weakness. In their bed at night Dean lays awake and Sam is awake with him and he thinks—how can he prove it? How can he show Dean how much he wants to take this burden away—to make it so the darkness is nothing that could come between them?

"Sam," Dean says. "You're…"

Nothing goes there. What could? Sam slides his hand from Dean's side up to the back of Dean's neck, cupping his skull, holding. He ducks his head. His temple against Dean's temple, Dean's breath against his throat. He closes his eyes and reaches and finds the amulet, dangling, on his first try. Luck. He gathers it into his palm and knocks Dean's fist open and closes their hands together, fisted around the sharp little weight of it. Any other day Dean would make a crack about holding hands.

Sam says, "I kept it because I wanted you. It wasn't your fault that things went bad. Or, I don't know. Half yours and half mine. Or maybe it was destiny's fault—fate, or something. It doesn't matter. What mattered was—how you stuck with me. How we—figured it out, every time. No matter how crappy it got, or how much we didn't trust each other, or… Because it's us, right? Every time. It's us, no matter what. I knew that on days I didn't know anything else. Nothing's going to take that away. Not the Darkness. Not God."

True. Dean's temple tips, against his. Their stubble drags together. "Not even the big guy, huh?" he says. Frail. "Seem pretty sure of yourself, there."

"I am," Sam says, not joking, and hears the breath Dean takes in. He squeezes their hands together, squeezes the back of Dean's neck.

"Shit," Dean says, and lets out a fraction of a laugh. "I wish I..."

He shakes his head, tipping away from Sam. Sam looks at his profile. The sweep of his eyelashes. His nose, with the little broken tilt. His jaw, squared. Sam bites the inside of his cheek and then lets go of Dean's neck, and folds their hands together all in a square—Dean's hand over Sam's over Dean's over Sam's—and when he unfolds them the amulet's caught in Dean's palm, and Sam folds his fingers over Dean's fist and pushes it, down, tucking it neat into Dean's jacket pocket. Dean blinks at him.

"I don't need a reminder," Sam says. Echo of something that feels like forever ago, surprisingly—now—true. "I'll be right here. No matter what. I swear."

He lets go of Dean's fist and slides up his arm, holding his shoulder instead. Dean looks back and forth between his eyes. "Thank you, Sam," he says, serious.

Sam nods. Dean looks up into his eyes, and then at his mouth, and when he leans for the kiss Sam responds simply, holding him and trying to say—everything there is to say. There could never be enough time, to say all there is to say.

Dean pulls back, after a few seconds. Not nearly enough. Their noses brush together and Dean's hands are on his chest, heavy. The amulet in his pocket. Where it belongs, Sam thinks, but it doesn't—matter, the same way it did before. It's not tying Dean to him; it's not a relic of a promise, broken and then kept. He touches Dean's jaw, with his thumb, and Dean sighs against him.

"Guess we should call him back," Dean says. "You think he knows we totally made out just now?"

Sam groans, and pushes Dean away, and catches him smiling. "You're totally going to hell," he says, and Dean winks at him, and turns away, and calls out, "Yo, Chuck!" like he's calling the literal creator for a dinner of hot wings, and Sam would despair but Dean's hand is in his pocket, and—well, they're okay, so. It's okay.

#ffcc #wincest #samulet fic #my writing

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hozier-mp3 · 3 years

Note

destiel au fic recs?

Oh yes.

Once upon a time I made a post of every single one of my Fic Recs, and I’m especially fond of AUs, so I give you a list of just, solely, AU fics.

Let me start with my shameless self promotions. (They’re actually full of shame I’m sorry but those are my three AU fics I’ve written.

Alright, time for the real ones. *cracks knuckles* A Million Ways To Go by ChasingRabbits on AO3 - Castiel Novak is a preacher's son living in a world of black and white. Pragmatic and dutiful, he doesn't understand why anybody would want to make waves.Then the Winchesters move in down the street. Soon many of the skeletons in the Novak family's closet are exposed, and as the family faces them, Castiel begins to understand that there are many ways to see the world and so many more ways to live than what he's been told. - This is one of the few fics I’ve reread. The summary pretty much covers it, though, so I’ll let that one speak for itself.

Word Count: 91,079

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086183/chapters/2185029

Smiling Out Of Fear by thepinupchemist on AO3- Castiel Novak is a product of the system, having gone through too many foster homes since the age of seven. At fourteen, he lands himself in Sugar Lane Mobile Home Community under the care of Missouri Moseley. There, he meets one Dean Winchester. A story about teenage hooligans, growing up, and finding a home. - Okay, I’m not going to say anything other than the fact that thinking about this fic literally makes me almost start crying happy tears. I adore it. (I pretty much recommend everything thepinupchemist has written, but I haven’t gotten through it all yet.)

Word Count: 117,494

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007755/chapters/1998660 25¢ Pocket Guardian Angels by hopelessheathen on AO3- Dean walks into his local bank one day and notices that someone has filled the old gumball machine with these tiny, wiggling, sentient angels in individual plastic packaging. Deeply concerned about their air supply and the fact that they're trapped there in the sun, he starts pumping in quarters to rescue them. This is worse than leaving a dog in an overheating car. Now he's got forty of the little guys running all over his house, and god knows how many others might be trapped and dying all over the city. - I love this. I could read it three times a day and still get a smile on my face. It’s just a little one shot, but it’s worth the time it takes. Word Count: 13,325

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359713

Burden by riseofthefallenone on AO3 - Mutants are considered second class citizens, or worse. Discriminated against at every turn, mutants are marked and monitored by The Registry and any deemed too dangerous are taken away to The Facility. It’s no surprise that many try to hide or choose a more permanent way out if a mutation develops. Castiel’s parents hid his mutation and hid him away from the world. He’s grown up with the knowledge that the world will hate him, no matter what he does. If he leaves the house, he can only do it with a long, heavy coat that covers the most beautiful part of him. It takes a pair of brothers to help him really spread his wings and live. - Yet another I adore. If you’ll keep a secret for me, I’m actually not caught up, but I oh so desperately want to be. I’m kind of a sucker for wings in general, though, so that helps.

Word Count: 317,582

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613731/chapters/48945302

Out Of The Deep by riseofthefallenone on AO3 - Stay away from the light-beds. Stay in the deep. It is the first thing hatchlings are taught the moment their fans unfurl and they can swim without their parents to buoy them along. It is the first rule, the first law. It is the beginning of every boogey-monster bedtime story told when they settle against the cliffs to sleep. Castiel should have listened better. - Okay, but holy shit. This was one of the first Destiel fics I read, and it heightened my standards to unbelievable places. I adore it. I could write essays.

Word Count: 488,608

https://archiveofourown.org/works/548878/chapters/977676 True As It Can Be by whelvenwings - Growing up in a small town in Kansas, Dean learned from a young age that there was only one rule that couldn’t be broken, one place he couldn’t go - through the forest, to the long-abandoned Angel’s Hollow. But when Sam disappears, Dean’s left with no choice but to follow his brother's tracks through the dangers of the wood; little does he know that the most dangerous creature of all lurks not among the trees, but in the Hollow itself. Dean sets Sam free, at the cost of his own liberty - and, bound by magic, resigns himself to living out the rest of his days in the Hollow, at the mercy of the being within. The angel of Angel’s Hollow, however, has a story - is a prisoner, too, as much as Dean is. Only one thing can free them both - but it is impossible. For, after all: who could ever learn to love a beast? - This was the first, and last, Beauty and the Beast AU I ever read, but for good reason. I’m scared if I read another, that this one will absolutely shit on it and I won’t be able to enjoy it. I loved this fic very much.

Word Count: 71,952

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048568/chapters/24631101

Okay, before I even mention the next one, please read the tags. There are quite a few possible triggers and the tags, luckily, have accurate trigger warnings. And, of course, archive warnings. (And, of course, be sure to read tags on the others.) If you have issues with that, just scroll past this one, because the others are fine. (I think/hope so. At least. If you have any issues, please, let me know. I’ll put warnings above those too)

Defiant by thestorygirl on AO3 - Dean Winchester has devoted his career as a police officer to helping angel slaves in any way that he can. He even formed and heads the "Angel Welfare Task Force," which involved him being called to consult on any case involving slaves. This passion stemmed from an incident that happened twenty years previously, when a thirteen year old Dean failed to help his friend Castiel escape being sold to a sadistic owner. Dean had never really harbored any hope of finding his friend. He saw his work as something he did in memory of Castiel, to prevent others from suffering the same fate. But, when called out on a routine case one day, Dean was startled to find that he recognized the victim. - So, usually I avoid the Non-Con archive warning at all. But with this one, honestly, I’m lucky I didn’t. I could seriously write essays on this fic. I’m gonna shut up about it, just because I don’t want to talk too much about it. It’s seriously perfect.

Word Count: 133,352

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180202/chapters/4771569

Alright back to the ones that don’t quite need trigger warnings.

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster - Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?- I love Cas in this fic, his agoraphobia fits his usual outsider-ness and it’s just all beautifully characterized. I very much enjoy “the only exception” tropes as well, so....

Word Count: 94,054

https://archiveofourown.org/works/565455/chapters/1011747?view_adult=true Four Letter Word For Intercourse by Bendingsignpost on AO3 - As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties. What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right? (It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.) - Holy shit. That’s... that’s really all I can say. Holy shit. Easily made my top five.

Word Count: 194,739

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16086839/chapters/37568591 Now, onto the one I haven’t finished, but like... so far.

Beck and Call by Soupernabturel on AO3 - 1922: Dean Winchester, eldest heir to the Winchester Estate, has a less than orthodox relationship with his servant, Castiel Novak. - Like I said, I haven’t finished it yet, but I’m vastly enjoying it at the moment.

Wow, it was really hard not to include canon ones lol. Anyways, I hope this helps Anon, and I hope you enjoy! I love all these authors, and you should give them all the love!

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helianthus21 · 4 years

Note

heli pls omg for the prompts, number 1 ily

And also pls 32, because i LOVE your writing and all those prompts are so great i can’t choose only one!

💜I combined them, hope you enjoy💜 ~1,4k

Even as a chained-up, shivering mess, Cas is still adamant about helping them. No matter how often Dean tells him to just concentrate on not dying from the attack dog spell, he won’t accept the confinement to bed Dean wants to impose on him. The fact that this renders Dean a distracted, worrying mess be damned. Out of the corners of his eyes, he keeps checking Cas for any signs of the curse worsening every now and again.

Sam’s already gone out to follow a lead half an hour ago while Dean insisted on staying in the Bunker to keep an eye on their patient. If something happened to Cas and he wasn’t there, he would never forgive himself.

Cas has been staring at nothing for such a long time that a jolt goes through Dean almost the same time as Cas startles out of his seat.

“Hey, buddy, you alright?” Dean asks, momentarily stuck to his chair by the shock, fingers freezing in place over the keyboard of his laptop.

But Cas doesn’t answer. Instead, his body jerks again once, twice, until Dean realizes what he’s doing.

He’s fighting against the hold of his handcuffs.

They’re angel-proof. So it comes as a shock to Dean when the angel actually succeeds.

Metal of the cuffs broken in half, Cas stands hunched over his side of the table, as Dean regains his marbles and approaches him carefully.

“Cas, hey,” he says in the most non-threatening voice he can manage. “It’s alright. Let me-”

But Cas looks up then, the usual deep blue of his eyes giving way to blood red, and veins standing out prominently on his face. Shit, he looks terrible.

“Are you in there, bud?” Slowly, Dean reaches out a hand.

A dreadful mistake.

The moment his hand nears Cas’ shoulder, the angel launches at him, hissing like an angered predator and throws Dean over the table.

Dean protects his head during the fall, but his back still gets the brunt of it, and it takes him precious few seconds to put himself up again with a grunt, muscles aching. It gives Cas enough time to go after him.

Dragging a chair between them as a weak barrier, Dean tries to reach his friend. “Cas, please,” he begs. “I know you’re in there. It’s the curse. Fight this!”

Eyes crazed and red, Cas tilts his head at him as though trying to understand. As though Dean was speaking in a language that needed deciphering.

The confusion only holds him back for a moment. In the next, the chair between them goes flying, and Cas is up in Dean’s face again, fist twisting the fabric of Dean’s shirt.

“Cas, look at me!” Dean almost yells. “It’s me. Dean. I’m your best friend. I’m-”

His heart misses a beat as Cas actually pauses mid-strike.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Dean whispers. With a shaking hand he reaches out to lower Cas’ fist away from his face. “There you are. Come back to me, Cas. Please.”

Cas blinks, and a hint of blue shines through the angry redness in his eyes. His grip on Dean loosens, and the more he comes back to his senses, the more Cas seems to crumble.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he says, gaze dropping to the ground in shame.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” insists Dean. He holds out a hand to Cas’ forearm to keep him upright. “That wasn’t you, it was the curse.”

“I hurt you,” Cas rejects Dean’s easy absolution. “I could have killed you.”

“I almost killed you too!” Dean says, voice too loud with emotion. “Don’t think I can just forget that, though you seem to have. I wanted to kill you. You would’ve died by my hands and I wouldn’t even have cared.”

“But you didn’t,” Cas argues. “Even at your worst, you still didn’t submit to the dark inside you that was tempting you. That takes true strength, Dean.”

“God, even when I try to kill you, you praise me as some kind of national hero.” Putting his arms around Cas, he half-carries him to the little armchair in the corner, a far more comfortable place for him to rest.

“You have to chain me up again,” Cas urges.

“Cas!” Dean’s irritation is audible in his voice now. “How? You ripped right through the only cuffs that could hold you.”

Cas swallows, gaze faraway as though he’s already given up. “Take me to the dungeon.”

“No!” Dean protests firmly. “No way I’m putting you there.”

“Dean-”

“I said no, and that’s final!” Dean says. Then, in a much softer tone, he adds, “You’ve broken through the curse just now, you can do it again. Listen, Sam will find Rowena and she’ll lift the curse from you if it’s the last thing she does. Meanwhile you just breathe and look at me.”

Cas doesn’t react.

“No drifting away, man. Eyes on me,” Dean orders, because that’s a language Cas understands. “You hear me, Cas? Keep your eyes on me.”

Finally, Cas lifts his head again, enough to return Dean’s steady gaze.

They stare at each other, the only way for Dean to make sure Cas stays with him. Stays himself.

After a stretch of time Dean cannot measure, Cas falters. “I killed hundreds of you once.” He licks his dry lips. “Thousands.”

Dean frowns. “What?”

“When Naomi tried to condition me,” explains Cas. “She made me kill thousand versions of you to break me. They were very realistic.”

If Cas thought the confession would make Dean turn tail, he missed by a mile. Saddened by the thought of how much Cas had to go through without Dean even knowing, he surges forward to capture Cas in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Cas’ shoulder.

“Why do you apologize?” Cas sounds incredulous. “I almost killed you, for real, after that.”

Pulling back far enough to look him in the eyes again, Dean strokes a thumb over his sweaty cheek. “You’d never.” He drops his hand, swamped by unbidden memories. “I asked Death to get rid of you. I never even thought about looking for a way to get you back.”

“I drove your brother insane.”

“I never listened to you,” Dean says. “Took you for granted.”

“I lied to you for a whole year.”

“I only called you when I needed help. I made you into a hammer.”

“I’m the reason you lost Lisa and Ben.”

The mention of their names is like a punch to Dean’s gut. He’d buried this little taste of the apple pie life that was granted to him, this unreachable dream, so deep inside the box with the label Do Not Touch. He never dared to look back. It feels so far away now, after all these years. Like from another lifetime.

Shaking his head, Dean tries to clear away the dark clouds inside his head. “No,” he rasps. “You’re not the reason. I fucked that up all on my own.”

“You deserved a happy life,” Cas says regretfully. “That’s why I didn’t turn to you for help, back then. You seemed so… content. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.” Cas laughs dryly, a sad, ugly sound. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t happy,” Dean admits, for the first time to anyone other than himself. “I wasn’t even really content, I…” He shrugs. “Fuck, I’d have jumped at the first chance of getting back into the life. If you’d come to me, I’d-”

He’d have been so goddamn thrilled. Not happy, not so fresh in mourning for Sam as he had been. But relieved, at the very least.

He can’t say it, but Cas seems to get the meaning of the unspoken words regardless.

“Me too,” he says, tentatively reaching out to take Dean’s hand in his, as if testing how much he’s allowed. “If… If you had asked me to stay, I would’ve.”

Dean’s head jolts up, the regret of a past ridden with wasted opportunities shining in his eyes. The regret, but also the hope for that something different he’s always been craving, more and more strongly as the years passed.

“When?” Dean asks, breath held in fear and hope and anticipation. “If I had asked you when?”

“After Stull.” Cas shakes his head sadly, as if resigned at his own pitifulness. “Anytime.”

It might be wishful thinking. It might be a trick of the light, but Cas’ eyes seem to clear of the angry redness of the curse, making way for that wonderful, wonderful blue.

Distantly, he hears the ringing of his phone announcing an incoming call. None of them pays it any mind as they keep staring into each other’s eyes.

“Stay,” Dean asks.

The most beautiful smile lights up Cas’ face, like the sun shining through a clouded sky.

It’s answer enough, but he still says it aloud.

“Of course.”

#replies #destiel #prompts #ficlet #spn #heli tries to write #long post #cas says it aloud bc he's not a coward like certain other ppl from other fictional universes👀#this one fought me vanessa and it got way longer than intended #hope you like it<3 #bend-me-shape-me

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polina-93 · 4 years

Text

Wishful Thinking: Part III

Title: Wishful Thinking Part III

Series Overview: Y/N is called up by Sam and Dean for help on a case. Y/N has real feelings for Dean, but has never been able to say it out loud. Will Y/N ever be able to tell Dean? And will Dean reciprocate?

Author: polina-93

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (Unrequited), Sam Winchester

Word count: 1535

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love (is that a warning?)

Author’s Notes: Shoutout to my girl @wonderfulworldofwinchester for being kind enough to proof this one. It’s been a long time coming since Part II so I’m really excited to share this with ya’ll. <3

MASTERLIST

You made your way back through the stacks, trying your absolute hardest to keep yourself together. You found Sam sitting at the same table you had earlier.

“Hey, Sam any progress?”

Sam gave an exasperated sigh. “Well, looks like you were right – restless spirit is what I’m thinking, too.”

“Alright, well that’s a little progress.” Your stomach growled suddenly.

“Hungry?” Sam chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, guess it has been longer than I thought since we got here. Want to go to the diner by the motel?”

Sam pulled out a couple of protein bars and a bottle of water. “I’m set, actually. Kind of feel like I’m on to a few things here so I’ll stay.”

“I’ll go,” Dean said, stepping out from the bookshelves, unbeknownst to you.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m fine, actually.” The thought of being alone with Dean for any amount of time longer than 45 seconds suddenly had your normally sturdy legs shaking.

Of course your stomach took this opportunity to growl like it had some kind of monster living inside of it.

“Really? You’re ‘fine’? …C’mon, let’s go, you need fuel and so do I.” Dean started moving towards the door before you could protest.

“Okay…I guess we’re going. You want anything?” You asked Sam, trying your damn-dest to waste as much time as possible.

“Like I said – I’m good.” Sam gave you small smile, trying to silently encourage you. And with that, you followed Dean out of the library and to the passenger side of baby.

The car ride was painfully quiet, Dean tapping his fingers on the wheel trying to make himself busy in the radio silence. His body language seemed to be telling you that he wanted to say something, but was on edge, unsure of if or when to speak.

“You know, I’m really sorry about earli-”

You cut him off, not wanting to extend the pain you were in past what it already was, “I said it’s fine. We really don’t need to talk about this anymore.”

“Y/N,” he said with a little forcefully. You look up at him, not offended but a little taken aback by his abrasiveness. He takes a deep breath, “Please…just…accept my apology for my sake, if nothing else. I would feel so much better if you could please just accept my apology.”

“Fine. I accept your apology,” and you do mean it. Your sincerity must come through because Dean’s body language immediately relaxes.”

“Thank you,” he says.

You would never admit it out loud, but you also feel suddenly less angry, less awkward, and more comfortable again. Maybe forgiving Dean out loud was something you really did need to do.

You pull up to the diner and head inside. Dean, always the gentleman, opens the door for you. You slide into a booth, your back facing the kitchen and bar top, Dean opposite of you. And right when you are starting to feel at ease again with Dean…

“Oh shit,” Dean whispers under his breath, wide-eyed and looking over your shoulder at something (or someone) behind you.

“What is it?” You follow his gaze only to see the busty blonde from Dean’s motel room this morning. You were so wishing you would never have to lay eyes on her again.

“Seriously, this is just my goddamn luck,” it was your turn to whisper under your breath.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“I thought you’ve never even been to this diner?! I assumed you met her at the bar!” you exclaim under your breath, leaning in towards Dean.

It took busty-blonde all of 5 seconds to notice Dean, immediately making her way towards your table.

“I DID meet her at the bar. She must work at the diner.”

“Back for seconds already? ….I mean thirds?” Busty-blonde bluntly states, as if you weren’t even at the table, although you were staring down at your menu, wide-eyed in shock at her boldness.

“Uhh..” It’s clear Dean is feeling as awkward about this as ever. He clears his throat, collecting himself quickly. “Actually, we’re here to grab some lunch.” You don’t miss how Dean emphasized “we’re,” which makes you feel the slightest bit better.

This forces her to recognize your existence in the world. You force yourself to make eye contact when she says, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you there.” She glances down at her notepad, whispering under her breath, “although I’m not sure how I could’ve missed you at that size.”

You whip your head up at her, suddenly feeling anger much more than embarrassment. You stand up, looking her straight in the eyes, using your size to your advantage.

“You are EXACTLY what is wrong with society.” You get a little closer to her, she shows real fear in her eyes, clearly not knowing what you are capable of in the hunting world. “You know, you and I should be allies in this world, but you’re clearly too busy putting your sisters down by belittling them for how they look, to have any time to lift them up.”

You push past her and out the door, enraged still by the nerve of that woman. Little did you know that Dean wasn’t far behind.

“What’s her problem?” Busty-blonde rolls her eyes, turning her attention back on Dean, as if he would be okay with the little show she just put on.

“You. YOU are the problem.” Dean shoves his way past her, jogging out the door trying to catch up to you.

“Y/N! Hey Y/N, stop!”

You show no sign of stopping, basically power-walking your way back to the hotel.

“Y/N!” Dean finally catches up to you, gently pulling on your arm to stop. “Look, I’m sorry about her, she was a real bitch back there.”

“YEAH, DEAN. SHE WAS. SHE WAS A BITCH. And you know what sucks even more than the way she treated me?”

He stares at you, confused, trying to figure out where you were going with this.

“The fact that you STILL chose her. You will ALWAYS choose a girl like her over a girl like me, no matter how much of a bitch she is. Because she looks like THAT,” you point to her in the window as she cleans a table, “and I look like this,” you reference to yourself, your voice losing its intensity and strength. Tears start welling up in your eyes, despite how hard you try to stop them.

“Y/N…I, I don’t know what to say…except I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, wiping away the tears. “It’s fine, Dean. There’s nothing for you to say. The fact of the matter is…” and it all starts spilling out, “I love you. I love you, and I see you in a way that a girl like that never will. I see your strength, and patience, your thoughtfulness, and selflessness, and -and I SEE you. But it doesn’t matter does it? Despite how much I care for you and how well I understand you, you will always choose a girl like that and she will ALWAYS get to have a part of you that I never will.”

“I’m-I- Y/N, I’m so sorry. I love you, you’re family, but I-I…” His voice falters, losing it’s own strength. He summons the courage to continue, even if he admits to himself that what he’s about to say is not completely true, “I just don’t love you in that way.”

You feel like the entire world has been pulled out from under you, even though you can’t say you are completely surprised by his response. You knew that the chances of Dean having any sort of feelings for you in a romantic way were pretty much zero, but there was just the smallest, tiniest, inkling inside of you that hoped you were wrong.

You continue wiping the tears from your face, trying to get them to stop but it’s not happening for you. “I know…” you whisper. “I mean, obviously I didn’t know for sure, but I knew…After all, why would a guy like you EVER want a girl like me?”

You turn and start walking away, and of course he tries to stop you.

“Y/N, wait. Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, Dean!” You yell, exasperated. “Pretty much anywhere but here.”

“You can’t just –”

“Yes, yes I can. I’m going to need you to let me go because this is quite possibly both the bravest and most embarrassing moment of my life.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know… maybe Jody’s? Or Donna’s?” You pause, taking another breath, composing yourself as best you can. “I’ll call when I get to wherever it is I’m getting to. I’ll call Sam. I promise.”

You finally turned to go, forcing your legs to leave the spot they were planted to during this unplanned and very heavy conversation.

And as badly as Dean wanted to call out, to chase her down over every county line that she would pass, he knew he couldn’t. Dean wasn’t sure what he was feeling in any way shape or form when it came to Y/N, but he knew that what he had to do right now, in this moment, was let her go.

To Be Continued…

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chipper9906 · 3 years

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Bound To You - Chapter 4: Training Wheels

<--- Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 8,413

Overall Word Count: 26,136

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (4/?)

Chapter Preview:

It was then, he thinks. As the flash went off, Dean stood next to Cas with their best blue steel impressions, immediately cracking up into laughter after and playfully tapping at the rim of Cas’s cowboy hat whilst Cas smiled at Dean like he was the sun that Sam realized…

If they ever were to lose Cas again… the Dean he knows is going to die with him.

Link To Fic

Click Below To Keep Reading

Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

* * *

After an entire day of tests, tests, and… oh yes, more tests, Dean had assumed he would sleep peacefully for the night. You know, that type of mental exhaustion where you fall into a deep sleep with nothing but total blackness? The one where you blink, and then all of a sudden there’s daylight peeking in through the blinds?

Yeah, well… he didn’t get that.

He was back there again. Same place, same night. The wooden walls of the barn around him seemed smaller somehow, closing in on him. Not enough space to move around, not enough places to move away from the fangs wanting to sink into his neck.

And there were more of them. That was clear right off the bat, there were way too many of those mime freaks for him to handle. No matter how many necks he sliced through, how many heads he sent dropping to the floor, it seemed there was always one of them ready to take their place.

“SAM!” He yelled out into the chaos, unable to see his brother in the swarm of bodies. There’s no response from Sam, only the cruel laughter of the Vamp’s mocking his cry for help.

And then it was happening again.

It played out just as it had that night. The Vamp’s hands on his shoulders, pushing him back with its unnatural strength. He knew where he was headed… he knew what would happen… but he couldn’t stop it. Within seconds, he’d have to feel the agonizing pain of that rebar sliding through his chest again.

Instead, his back meets a wall of solid muscle. The impact sends them both tumbling back, the person behind him steadying Dean with two hands on his shoulders. Dean both feels and hears as the person hits the support beam he was supposed to hit, a soft grunt escaping the person at the collision.

The Vamp didn’t expect for another person to join the party either it seemed, hesitating for just a moment, its grip on Dean’s shoulders weakening in its disorientation. Dean took advantage of that hesitation, bringing up the machete in his hands hard, slicing off the Vamp’s right arm on his shoulder. It only screamed in pain for a few seconds before the machete was slicing through its neck, screams reduced to a gurgling, choking mess as the body collapsed to the ground.

The Vamps are closing in on him, fangs bared under their clown masks and low hisses emitting from within. But Dean doesn’t care. Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. He needed to see who was behind him, what had – quite literally- taken the bullet for him.

“CAS!” Dean can’t help but scream his name as the fear grips him hard.

Castiel doesn’t look pained. It doesn’t look like the rebar is bothering him at all. But there’s a fury in his face that’s both awe-inspiring and terrifying, and Dean can only be thankful it isn’t aimed at him. Cas pulls himself off the rebar like it’s no trouble, like the blood soaking through his pristine button-up shirt doesn’t matter. Dean knows he should be focusing on the Vamps breathing down his neck, but he can’t look away.

This was a Cas he hadn’t seen in a long time. This was the wrathful Castiel he had first met; eyes lit up with burning grace and bursting with a golden light that illuminated the two ginormous wings that had filled up the cramped interior of the barn.

“…Cas?”

In a blink, he was gone. A puff of air behind him, the flutter of wings, and Dean whirls around to see Cas there, machete in his right hand whilst the other is wrapped protectively around him, pushing him to safety.

Dean could help. Nothing is stopping him from telling Cas to ‘stop treating him like a kid’, to rush in there and let more Vamp heads roll. Instead, Dean finds his feet frozen in place, watching with mouth agape as Castiel works.

And that’s the only word that fits it, really. This was what Castiel once was. This was an angel; not the fat babies in diapers with a halo and a golden harp, Castiel was a soldier of God. He doesn’t even flinch as he pushes the machete through the countless bodies in front of him, blood splattering across his face and trench coat with every swipe of his blade. There’s only one moment where Dean is close to intervening, when the last Vamp very nearly gets the jump on Cas, running full sprint at Cas while his back is turned.

Cas’s hand shoots out, not even looking behind him as he catches the Vamp by its neck. The creature can only flail uselessly, it’s hands desperately scrambling at Cas’s arm to free itself. The furious gaze Castiel sets on the Vampire would be enough for even Dean to drop to his knees, able to taste the rage that rolled off the angel in waves. The mask is ripped off in a flash, then Cas’s hand is covering the Vamp’s entire face, an intense white light bursting from within. The Vamp’s screams are tortured as it’s burned from the inside out, reddish goo leaking from the empty sockets in its head, eyes melting into nothing. When Cas finally drops the body to the floor, all that remains of its face is a burnt and ashen mess, pieces of blackened skin peeling away as it hits the ground.

“Holy shit.”

Dean’s expletive is enough to snap Castiel out of his rage-filled trance. His face softens as soon as his eyes land on Dean’s awed expression, ducking his head and sinking in on himself, seeming almost… ashamed?

“I… I think I may have gotten carried away,” Cas admitted, glancing around at the bodies that littered the floor. “I’m sorry if I startled you, Dean.”

Dean is still waiting for his brain to reset, images of Castiel in full smite mode replaying over and over in his mind. “Uh… What?”

“You’ll get used to this,” Castiel told him, gesturing at their surroundings. “Most humans don’t realize they’re dreaming until after they’ve awoken. It’s only because I’m interfering with your dreams that you become aware of your unconscious state.”

“You… you took that rebar for me, Cas.”

Cas’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at Dean’s statement, bending his arm back awkwardly to touch the hole running through him, his hand coming back soaked in blood. “Yes, I know. But I’m fine, Dean. Neither of us can be harmed, not truly. Not in your dreams.”

“Then why’d you do it? If you knew it didn’t matter, why’d you throw yourself in front of that rebar for me?”

“Because…” Cas paused, eyes dropping to the ground. “There’s still pain in your memories… pain that your sleeping mind can recreate in your dreams. I didn’t… I couldn’t let you go through that again. Not when I could do something to stop it.”

“Oh…” Dean swallowed deeply, glancing down to the burnt-out Vamp body by his feet. “And… Why’d you go all psycho-angel on my dream Vamps?”

“Because they deserved it,” The dangerous edge was back in Cas’s voice again. “And… because I couldn’t protect you when you needed me.”

“Cas…” Dean uttered softly. “You died for me. And then came back for me. You’ve saved my life more times than I count.”

“And now, I can no longer do that,” Cas sounded pained, face twisting in annoyance at himself. “I’m of no use to you. I couldn’t even scrape enough of my grace together to heal the damage to your spine. If you get hurt again-,”

“I’m not gonna get hurt again,” Dean stepped closer, gripping Cas by his bicep, catching Cas’s attention. “Does losing my legs suck? Of course it does. But without you, Cas? I wouldn’t even be here talking to you. Hell, maybe me losing my legs was for the better. Only something like this would force me to stop hunting.”

“But you enjoy hunting.”

“I do,” Dean agreed with a nod of his head. “I did… but, hey – we can figure something out, right? I can still find a way to be in the hunter game, maybe not just as ‘physical’ as I used to be.”

“And what about your brother?” Cas asked. “Will he continue to hunt without you?”

“Sammy? I… huh, I don’t really know. He’s got Eileen now, so… Guess it’s up to them whether they continue the hunting game or get smart and retire.”

Castiel’s lips twitched into a subtle smile. “And can you not do the same? ‘Retire’ from hunting?”

“You can get the hunter out of hunting, but you’ll never get hunting out of the hunter,” Dean answered with a sly smile. “Our line of work, ‘retiring’ is usually more of a permanent option. Now Sammy and Eileen, I can see them taking the more ‘pleasant’ option of retiring, but me…? I dunno. Feel like I’ll always have my toe dipped into the hunting waters.”

The soft smile on Cas’s face slipped slightly as his gaze dropped from Dean, landing on the bodies around them. With a sigh, Cas clicked his fingers, and their surroundings changed. Back in the bunker it seemed, though this time in Dean’s ‘man-cave’, one of the spare rooms they had renovated into their movie room.

Castiel took a seat on the comfy, well-worn couch pressed against the wall, the still-wet blood covering his trench-coat immediately staining the couch.

“Dude!” Dean complained, gesturing to the new stains. “Come on, man!”

Cas rolled his eyes at him, snapping his fingers once more. The blood vanished from the surface of the couch, along with his trench-coat returning to its usual clean state of being.

“Uh, does that not use up your grace?”

“No. This is your dream, remember? Your mind's unconscious state. I can manipulate your dreams in any way I choose.”

“Wow, uh… Should I be worried about that?” Dean joked.

Cas almost looked offended at his question. “Of course not. I’d never do anything that would affect you – not without your permission.”

“I know, Cas. I was just messing with ya,” Dean dropped next to Cas, nudging his shoulder against Cas’s with a beaming smile. “So how does this work exactly? You gonna swing by every dream I have?”

That’s up to you, I suppose,” Castiel answered. “This isn’t like when I visited your dreams before. There’s nowhere else I can go but inside your head. If you don’t want me here, I suppose I could force myself into something close to a ‘sleep’.”

“Sounds boring,” Dean noted, leaning back and crossing his feet atop the chipped coffee table in front of them. “I'd rather you drop in on me, Cas. Ruin a few nightmares my pain in the ass brain has planned for me. And, uh…”

“What?” Castiel pressed.

“I… I meant it, you know. When I said I missed you. I’m guessing this is the only way I can hang out with you in person until we get your body back, so…” Dean cleared his throat, giving Cas a few pats on the arm. “Yeah… Drop by whenever you want.”

Dean didn’t know what message he was trying to send with his words there, but whatever it was, the smile Cas sent his way meant he must have said the right thing.

“Just make sure I’m not doing anything embarrassing first,” Dean threw a wink in Cas’s direction, chuckling deeply at the befuddled look Cas had in response to that.

“Like what?”

“Uh…. You know…” Dean wiggled his brows at Cas. “Like when there’s a sock on the door… if the rooms rocking, don’t come knocking?”

“I don’t get it,” Castiel’s answer nearly had Dean burying his face into his hands. “How would your room start rocking? Unless in the event of an earthquake, or – oh….”

“And he’s got it…” Dean glanced up at Cas, surprised to see the deep red color that had spread across Cas’s face. “Wha – Really, Cas? Talking about sex still gets you all flustered?”

Somehow, Cas’s face only got redder. Dean cracked up into a fit of laughter at Cas’s expense, who didn’t look too pleased with being the reason for Dean’s amusement.

“I thought that reaper popped your cherry? Woulda’ thought you wouldn’t be as, you know, Cas about this kind of stuff anymore.”

“It’s not exactly the greatest of memories,” Cas snapped irritably. “It’s difficult to look back at it fondly when I was tortured and killed the morning after.”

“Ah… yeah, I guess that’d put a damper on things…”

“You could say that.”

“Tell ya what, soon as we get you back into your body, we’ll head out to a bar. I’m telling you Cas, there’s no better wingman than me. The girls will be clambering over themselves for a shot at you. Get you some better memories, yeah?”

Castiel’s gaze slid away from Dean’s, hunching over himself on the couch, staring down at his hands in his lap and fiddling awkwardly with his fingers. “Um… no, thank you.”

“No?”

“No,” Castiel repeated firmly. “I’m not interested.”

“You’re not interested?” Dean mirrored Cas’s words in disbelief. “You’re just… not interested in sex? Like, at all?”

“I didn’t say that,” Castiel replied testily. “I’m not interested in sex with random strangers I do not care for.”

Dean’s face scrunched in confusion. “Uh, okay? If not with strangers, then who? Who else would you want to-,”

Dean’s words dried up in his mouth as the realization clobbered him around the head, mouth still hung open in mid-sentence. He closed his mouth with an audible clang of his teeth, feeling the heat rush to his face, now the same deep shade of scarlet that Cas couldn’t quite seem to shake.

“So, uh… anyway… guess having more control of my dreams is kind of like… a second life, huh?” Dean thought out loud, eager to change the subject. “You can’t usually tell when you’re dreaming, right?”

Thankfully, Castiel rolled with the change without a complaint - though Dean resolutely chose to ignore the brief flicker of disappointment he saw from Cas. “Not typically, no. I believe some people are more aware of when they’re dreaming, with some even able to gain some form of control over their dreams.”

“Think that’s called ‘Lucid Dreaming’ or something like that,” Dean said. “Hey, wait – does that mean I can control my dreams too? Like how you did, with the changing where we are and all that.”

“I don’t see why not. Though, you may accidentally wake yourself up with the effort.”

Well, no time like the present. Dean focused on the table in front of him, eyes squinting and body straining as he tries to summon two frosty beers. He released his held breath with a harsh sigh when nothing appeared, crossing his arms and pouting like a child.

“What did you try to do?” Cas’s eyes darted between Dean and the empty space he had been staring intensely at.

“Make two beers appear…” Dean grumbled, arms still firmly crossed.

As he said it, two bottles of beers appeared magically from thin air on the table. A brief surge of excitement ran through Dean, thinking he had managed to do it himself, but the pleased smile he saw on Cas’s face quickly proved him wrong.

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” Castiel assured him, gesturing for Dean to take one of the beers.

Dean plucked up the beers from the table – already with their lids popped off – passing one of the bottles to Cas and keeping the other for himself. ��Might be dangerous once I do… all that power at my finger-tips… how did you not abuse your angel powers more?”

“I can’t do what I’ve been doing in your head,” Castiel replied, taking a sip of the cold beer, the bitter liquid going down smoothly. “I couldn’t manifest items. I couldn’t change environments on a whim – though I suppose my power of flight was close to that…”

“Noticed you had your wings back in the barn,” Dean noted, gesturing at the empty space behind Cas with his hand, beer still firmly gripped in hand. “Thought you couldn’t fly anymore with them?”

“I can take up any form I wish to,” Castiel answered. “My true form right now is nothing but light, my grace circulating through your body. I chose to appear to you as Jimmy because… it’s what I’m most comfortable with now. And it allows me to speak to you face to face.”

“Can’t say I blame you for wanting your wings back,” Dean said. “Must’ve felt like you… lost some limbs…”

Castiel glanced over at Dean’s deflating tone, face softening in sympathy at the sight of Dean staring woefully down at his own legs. “That is an apt comparison, yes. Dean… I can't even begin to apologize-,”

“And you won’t,” Dean cut him off curtly. “This isn’t on you, Cas.”

“But it is,” Castiel argued back. “I could have healed you completely If I had just-,”

“If you had what? Burnt through all your grace and died? Again?” Dean finished his sentence for him, voice growing in irritation.

“Yes.”

“Sorry Cas, but that ain’t a fair trade. If losing my legs is the price I have to pay to keep you here with us, then I’ll take that deal a thousand times over.”

Castiel genuinely looked taken aback by Dean’s sentiment, eyes locked with his, trying to assess if Dean’s lying or not. And as much as he hates to admit it, Dean finds himself getting angry again. He can’t help it. Why does Cas not see? What does he have to do for Cas to understand how much he means to him? After twelve years of non-stop apocalypses, end of the world’s and pissed off cosmic beings, with Cas always by his side… he thought Cas would get the hint by now that he wants him around.

“Besides, I’ve still got the use of my legs in my dreams, so that’s a plus,” Dean slapped at his legs on the table with a grin. “I got cold beers, the use of my legs, and my best friend back. Can’t ask for much more than that.”

Cas shook his head, the kicked puppy look still plastered on his face. “You deserve more than that…”

And as those words lingered in the air between them, Dean let the thoughts in his mind run free, knowing he’ll never have the balls to speak them out loud:

‘If you could see yourself how I see you, Cas… You’d know I’ve already got more than I could ever deserve.’

* * *

“They really think Dean’s good to go in a few days?” Eileen followed just behind Sam as they descended the bunkers metal stairs, stepping out into the map room.

“That’s what they told me, yeah,” Sam answered, craning his head around so Eileen could read his lips, coming to a stop in the center of the room. “He just needs a few days to recover from the blood loss, and make sure his immune system doesn’t start attacking the metal pins in his spine.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Apparently…” Sam sighed, glancing around the bunker’s interior, a concerned frown etched on his features. “Huh, usually she’s-,”

Sam couldn’t even finish his sentence before there was the sound of claws clicking against the bunker’s concrete floors, soft pads pacing down the hallway rapidly as Miracle came into sight. Her blonde tail began wagging impossibly fast as she laid eyes on Sam, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as she pants.

“There she is!” Sam beamed, dropping down into a crouch and holding out his arms. Miracle ran straight into them, hopping up so her front paws were resting on Sam’s thighs, trying to lick every bit of his face she can reach.

“This is Miracle-,” Sam introduced her to Eileen, turning his beaming smile over to her. “-She’s very friendly, as you can tell.”

“I can see,” Eileen said with a laugh, crouching down alongside Sam. Miracle immediately shifted her attention to the new face she has yet to meet, giving Eileen a thorough sniff-down before she too began pawing at Eileen’s lap, tail whipping between Eileen and Sam’s legs, excited to have a new addition to the bunker.

“You should see her with Dean,” Sam gracefully stood back up, stretching out his back until it popped – his age really was starting to catch up with him. “You think she’s loving with us? You haven’t seen anything until you see her fawning over Dean.”

“Maybe Dean’s just good at forming ‘profound bonds’ with strays.” Eileen shot him a joking smile, giving Miracle one last scratch behind the ears before standing up.

Sam barked out a laugh, shaking his head fondly and turning to walk further into the bunker. “Are you calling Cas a stray?”

“In a nice way-,” Eileen made sure to add, keeping up with Sam’s long strides as they headed down the bunker’s hallways, Miracle’s bounding footsteps following just behind. “Dean just seems to have a soft spot for those that can’t find a home.”

Sam stuttered in his steps as he came to a stop outside Dean’s room, his gaze resting on the doors to Jack’s and Cas’s rooms. “Yeah… guess you could say that… But, so long as Cas has Dean? He has a home.”

Dean’s room hadn’t been touched since they had left. The bed had been left hastily made, its sheets wrinkled, and pillows haphazardly placed atop the covers. A few half drunken bottles of beers were dotted around the room, most in arms reach, giving the room a perpetual stench of alcohol that lingered in the air – though not as strong as Sam had smelt just a week before.

Sam couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth at the photo he saw lying on the bed. It was the one of Dean and Cas, from when they had to dress up as cowboys to blend in with the locals. Right after the photo had been taken, Dean had set up the old janky printer they had in the bunker and printed out two copies.

The moment was still fresh in Sam’s memory. Dean had joyfully pressed his phone into Jack’s hands, babbling about how he couldn’t miss the photo opportunity – and the blackmail said photo could be used for against Cas, who still didn’t seem too sure on the western-style and trench-coat combo. It had been one of the first times Dean had treated Jack like… well, like one of them. Jack had smiled in that moment, Sam remembered. Jack had always tried so hard to please Dean… and there, on that day, bringing Cas back into their lives… he had done just that. Even with the knowledge of mom trapped in that other world, the responsibility of getting her back, Dean was finally starting to look more like his old self again.

If they ever were to lose Cas again… the Dean he knows is going to die with him.

“They kind of look like models for some Texan ranch magazine,” Eileen commented, leaning over Sam’s shoulder to get a better look at the photo he held precariously in his hands. “When was this?”

“Few years ago, now,” Sam answered, soft smile still lingering on his face. “This was, uh… this was not long after we got Cas back. Dean realized we don’t have any photos of Cas, so… yeah.”

“Cas doesn’t look too impressed with the hat.”

Sam huffed with quiet laughter, gently placing the photo on Dean’s dresser next to Dean’s framed photo of him and mom. “Yeah, but it made Dean happy, so he put up with it.”

Miracle had already made herself comfy on Dean’s bed, looking up at the two with half-moon eyes, tail thumping lightly against the bedsheets. Sam gave her a good ruffle on the head, sighing to himself as he glanced around the room.

“Alright, I’m gonna grab some of Dean’s clothes, find his laptop… somewhere in here. If you, um…”

Eileen raised an eyebrow at Sam’s hesitation, trying to catch his eye when he kept his eyes fixed on Miracle as he stroked a hand down the fur on her back. “Sam?”

“I think the keys to your truck are hanging in the garage somewhere,” Sam finally got out in a rush. “If you wanted to take them and head home…”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“What? No! No, of course not!” Sam spluttered, backtracking quickly. “I just… with everything going on, I thought you might want to-,”

“You think I’d leave you now?” Eileen stepped closer to Sam, pinching his chin between her fingers to force his attention onto her. “Just because Dean’s the one that got injured doesn’t mean he’s the only one that’s going to need help. This is going to be tough on both of you. If I can help? I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam smiled gently down at her, covering her hand on his chin with his own. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to stay.”

“You’re not,” Eileen assured him quietly. “I want to stay. With Chuck finally gone… things seem calmer now. Clearer.”

“If you’re sure…?”

“I’m sure,” Eileen leaned up on her tiptoes, planting a kiss on his stubbled cheek, then another on his lips, lingering there for a moment longer before pulling away. “Think it’s about time you shave off that five o’clock shadow, too.”

Sam ducked his head down with an abashed grin, huffing in almost silent laughter. “I’ll get right on that.”

“I know you’re worried about him,” Eileen was able to read his mind, like usual. “But he’s in the best place he can be right now. Cas is with him, and I think we both know Cas would rather sacrifice himself than let something happen to Dean. But that’s not going to happen. He’ll be fine. It’s going to be a lot of work. A lot. There’s going to be times where Dean doesn’t want to look in our direction, times when he lashes out, and we’ll handle all that, okay?”

“I know we will. It’s just… it’s always something, you know? With what happened to Dean, and now… now we’ve gotta fix Cas, too…”

“At least this problem isn’t one that’ll potentially end all life as we know it. If you’ve taken on God - and won - then I think something like this would be a walk in the park.”

“Yeah… just got to find a way to recreate a body that belongs to an angel which was destroyed by a being older than God himself. Sounds easy…”

“You’re a Winchester,” Eileen pointed out, patting at his chest. “Beating impossible odds is in your blood.”

* * *

Sam was up the next morning early as usual, electing to forgo his usual jog in the woods outside the bunker to get Dean’s stuff together. It didn’t take too long to scrounge together a few pairs of jeans and sweats from Dean’s cupboard, along with some soft cotton t’s and flannel shirts- they’re wardrobe didn’t exactly have too much variety.

He found Dean’s laptop after a few minutes of searching around Dean’s room, eventually finding it tucked under Dean’s bed, having to get down on his stomach and army crawl underneath to retrieve both laptop and charger. It was hastily shoved in the clothes bag they would typically use for hunts, then stored just outside his room while he ducked into the bathroom for a shower.

The soothing hot water did it’ trick, scrubbing away all the grime, sweat, and stress built up from the past two nights. Sam savored the feeling of the warm water pounding atop his head, bracing himself against the tile walls as the drops cascade down his body and soak into his hair. He couldn’t stay in there forever though, eventually gathering enough energy to flick the switch off and cut off the water, the instant chill of the air pushing him out of the cubicle to grab a towel.

Now, freshly clean and with a new set of clothes, Sam felt at least somewhat more prepared to take on the rest of the day. He plucked the bag of Dean’s clothes and laptop back up from outside his room, making his way to the bunker's kitchen to find Eileen already sat at the table, chewing on a slice of buttered toast. Miracle was sat patiently next to Eileen, her head in her lap, best begging eyes on full display as she watched every movement of the toast in Eileen’s hand.

“Thought you were still asleep,” Sam said as he dropped the bag off on top of the kitchen island.

“Felt when you got up,” Eileen told him once she had swallowed her bite of toast. “I’m a light sleeper, so it happens.”

Sam pulled out the last few slices of bread from the bread tin, popping it into the toaster to prepare his own breakfast. “Oh, well, sorry for waking you up.”

“Eh, I needed to get up anyway,” Eileen waved off his apology. “I fed Miracle, by the way. Just to make sure we don’t double-feed her.”

“Me and Dean still do that,” Sam admitted with a small laugh, leaning his hip against the kitchen isle as he spoke. “She’s very good at convincing you she’s been left to starve.”

“I bet these puppy eyes work a little too well on Dean,” Eileen ran her fingers through Miracles soft curls, whose tail began thumping harder in response. “I bet you guys give her everything she asks for.”

“Maybe,” Sam admitted, jumping slightly when his toast popped out of the toaster – never fails to get him… “I’m stronger willed than Dean, though. She doesn’t even have to beg him for anything; Dean’s already scraped his leftovers into her bowl before she even knows he has food.”

Sam was halfway through buttering his own slice of toast, searching through their depleted cupboards for his sugar-free jar of jelly (which is not real jelly, according to Dean), when Eileen places a gentle touch on his shoulder.

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about,” She said once he had turned around, jar of jam in hand.

“What’s up?” Sam’s eyes followed her as she dropped her plate into the kitchen sink, flicking on the tap switch and grabbing a sponge from the sink, scrubbing at her plate.

“I think it might be best if I stay here. While you go and get Dean, I mean.”

“Oh,” Sam blanched, mostly moving on autopilot as he picks the knife back up and dunks it into the jar of jam. “You don’t want to come with me to bring him home?”

“You know it’s not that,” Eileen corrected him, turning the tap off and plucking up a towel from its hanging place and using it to dry the plate off. “I just think it makes more sense, don’t you? I can be here to look after Miracle while you’re away instead of trying to find a pet-friendly motel, and I can help get this place ready for when Dean gets here. For one, your cupboards are in a desperate need of a restock.”

“Yeah, we… were never the best at keeping track of things…” Sam rubbed at the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “But don’t feel like you have to do all this stuff. I should be doing all of that, too.”

Eileen finished off drying the plate, placing it atop the drying rack before turning to face Sam, leaning her side against the sink. “Think of it as earning my keep. Besides, I want to help, and I feel like I’d be more help here than I would at the hospital. Dean’s probably going to be feeling overwhelmed already, and I don’t want to make that worse.”

Sam’s brows scrunched into a frown as he finished spreading the raspberry jelly onto his toast, placing the knife into the sink with a soft sigh. “Maybe you’re right… I don’t really know what’s the right thing to do with all this…”

“We’ll figure it out,” Eileen reassured him with an understanding smile. “Right now, your brother needs you.”

“Yeah… and I’d imagine Cas needs saving soon, too.”

“…From what?”

“Poor guys trapped in Dean’s head with nowhere to go,” Sam joked with a teasing smile at his brothers’ expense, shoving his slice of toast into his mouth. “Won’t be long till he’s driven out of his mind.”

* * *

To say Dean was bored was an understatement.

Usually, waking up from his dreams was a relief. That typically happens when 99.9% of the dreams you remember are nightmares, so it’s not too much of a surprise that he tries to limit the amount of sleep he gets to the bare minimum. This time, though? He actually found himself feeling disappointed when he woke up. Probably the most well-rested he’s been in years, and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

His dreams somehow felt more normal than reality. Just hanging out in the bunker with a few beers, his best friend by his side as they talked about everything and everything… compared to now, quite literally stuck to his hospital bed, squinting up at the laughably tiny box tv and flicking through countless channels of nothingness… Yeah, he was living the life…

‘Have you somehow gained enough brain power to process a single second of every show you’re flicking through to process each and every storyline?’

Dean paused with his finger hovering over the button to change the channel, surprised by Cas’s voice in his head for the first time since he’s woken up.

‘Uh… no?’

‘Well neither have I, so could you please stop?’

Dean huffed with a roll of his eyes, changing the channel over to the only show out there that never fails to keep his attention.

‘Oh… This show again…’

’If you could not refer to Dr. Sexy MD with such disdain, I’d appreciate it.’

‘I don’t entirely understand the appeal of the show to you. Out of all the movies and shows you’ve shown me, this one always seemed to be the outlying one.’

‘Everyone’s got a guilty pleasure show, Cas. Besides, what’s not to like about Dr. Sexy MD? Plenty of drama, girls slapping people left and right - and then there’s the man himself, of course.’

‘The Doctor?”

‘Doctor Sexy, thank you very much.’

‘You do seem particularly fond of him.’

‘Part of the whole ‘guilty pleasure’ thing, Cas.’

‘Is it the cowboy boots?’

‘…What?’

‘I noticed you seem to have a certain, um… attraction… towards western related fashion, and the overall time period.’

‘Yeah, coz it’s cool as all hell. Your point being?”

‘Nothing… Just something I’ve noticed about you.’

‘Can’t help but feel like you’re judging me here, Cas.’

‘Of course not. You’re welcome to any fetishes you may partake in-,’

‘It’s not a fetish!’

‘If you say so, Dean.’

The door to his room swung open at that moment, saving Dean from any further embarrassment. Sam walked through the door, looking a fair bit more rested than he had when he left, one of their old gym bags hanging from his hand.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam greeted him the second he stepped into the room, posture relaxing in relief when he sees Dean. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby that’s just been through some hellish trauma,” Dean replied with the fakest smile he can muster. “You look like you had no trouble getting to sleep.”

Sam shrugged in response as he dropped the gym bag by Dean’s bed before dragging one of the visitor chairs closer and flopping down in it.

“Kinda surprising-,” Dean added, catching Sam’s attention. “-Since I would have thought you and Eileen would be getting down to business.”

Sam upped his bitch face to max power, barely resisting the urge to shove his brother off the hospital bed when Dean wiggles his eyebrows up and down at him. “You know Dean, as much as I appreciate you taking an interest in my love life, could you not do it in the creepiest way imaginable?”

Dean grinned unabashedly at his little brother, raising a hand over his heart. “Ah, I tease because I love, Sammy.”

‘You’re a very complicated human being, Dean Winchester.’

‘Aint that the truth.’

“Where is Eileen anyway?” Dean got round to asking, expecting to have seen Eileen trailing after Sam.

“Back at the bunker,” Sam answered with a jab of his thumb over his shoulder. “She’s looking after Miracle while we’re here.”

“You telling me she chose a dog over you? Oof -- that’s rough man.”

“Very funny,” Sam deadpanned. “Actually, she was trying to figure out how best to help you. She didn’t want to overwhelm you while you’re here, so she stayed behind to take care of the bunker.”

‘It would probably be best not to antagonize your brother further on this subject, Dean.’

‘Yeah, kinda figured out for myself that I hit the limit, Cas.’

‘Just wanted to make sure. Since we now share a body, I would also feel it when Sam punches you in the face.’

‘Sammy won’t beat me up when I’m already broken… I think…’

‘Dean…’

‘Alright, alright, I’ll stop.’

“How’s she doing, by the way?” Dean asked. “I mean, she’s died, then came back as a ghost, then been brought back to life, died again, and then brought back again by something unknown… that tends to disorient people a bit.”

“Okay, I think. Obviously, she wants to find out what did actually bring her back, and why…”

“And more importantly – is it on our side,” Dean added. “Whatever it is, it’s gotta be powerful, right? It would be nice to find out we’ve got a major player on the board that’s fighting for us. Especially if it can help us with the whole ‘remaking Cas’s body’ problem.”

Sam snorted with laughter. “Since when are we that lucky? Or ever have it that easy?”

“Wow. Way to be a pessimist, Sam.”

‘He has a point.’

‘Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side!’

‘Sorry.’

“Hey, if something is on our side that’s willing to fix everything for us, then I’ll be happy to be proven wrong,” Sam defended himself. “But just in case, I’m going to rely on research in the bunker to find us a solution.”

“I’m just saying, we shouldn’t leave it out as an option. We’d be stupid to ignore someone with that much power who is willing to help us.”

‘I know I’m supposed to be one your side… but I think Sam’s right. Perhaps we should just take Eileen’s return as a blessing and move on. Digging into things out of our control could potentially escalate the situation into something we can’t handle.’

‘I get that Cas, but… what if whatever this thing is has some crappy plans for us? Shouldn’t we get the jump on things early, find out what we can so we’re better prepared?’

‘We don’t know that. For all we know, something went wrong whilst Jack was bringing everyone back from Chuck’s culling, and Eileen took a little bit longer than everyone else.’

‘Just Eileen?’

‘It may have happened to others around the globe. We can’t know for sure.’

’I think we’d be seeing some news articles about people popping back into existence if that was the case.’

“Dean!” Sam’s shout snapped Dean back into reality, his face displaying a strange mixture of amusement and bitch-face. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“Sorry, sorry – Cas likes to chatter.”

‘I am talking no more than I typically would.’

Dean chose to respond to Cas in his head with an echoing snort of laugher, nearly laughing out loud when he could feel Cas’s scowl in response.

“It’s super freaky when you do that. Your eyes glaze over like you’re on some kind of a drug trip.”

“Having an angel riding shotgun does that to you.”

‘My presence in your mind does not illicit any stimulant effects.’

‘Pretty sure hearing voices in your head is a common side effect of being high off your ass.’

‘I suppose that’s true. Though, I am not actually making any sound, rather I am sharing my own thoughts with you.’

‘Wait, does that mean you can hear my thoughts?’

‘Only the ones you direct at me.’

‘…What if I’m like… thinking of you? Do you hear that?’

‘Again, only if you’re directing it at me. Though, judging by your reaction, I’m assuming you didn’t mean to share your thoughts with me earlier.’

‘…What thoughts?’

‘The one you had while you were dreaming; where you thought about how I was more than you deserve?’

‘Shit.’

‘I’m assuming you didn’t mean to direct that at me either.’

‘Dammit, uh – I mean no, but I guess I wanted you to know it, but I wasn’t sure how to say it, but that wasn’t really what I-,’

‘Dean?’

‘…Yeah?’

‘It was an incredibly sweet thought to have. And one I didn’t expect for you to have, so… I was very thankful to hear it.’

‘Oh, uh… then I guess you’re welcome. Also guess I should get better control over my thoughts…’

‘For your personal privacy, yes you should. And perhaps for selfish reasons, I hope you don’t.

‘You hoping to hear some more compliments from me, Cas?’

‘It’s rare to get an opportunity to hear the inner truths of Dean Winchester.’

‘It’s a dangerous game.’

‘I don’t have much else to do up here. I’m more than willing to play.’

Dean tried to pretend he didn’t feel a thrill rush through him at Cas’s playful tone in his head.

“I don’t think I even want to know what you guys are talking about…” Sam’s voice barely filtered into his mind, almost like background noise. “You’re focusing on Cas about intensely as you focus on porn.”

That got Dean’s attention. “What?”

“Oh, you heard that, did you?”

Dean was saved from having to answer, the door creaking open once more to reveal the tired yet smiling face of Doctor Sullivan peeking into the room.

“Ah, the Winchesters!” Doctor Sullivan exclaimed at the sight of them, gently closing the door behind him. “How’s my miracle patient doing?”

“Right as rain, Doc,” Dean replied, eyes dropping to the files Doctor Sullivan held in his hands. “That about me? Hope it’s good news.”

“I’m pleased to tell you that it is,” Doctor Sullivan reached his bedside, standing next to Sam and flicking through the files. “Blood tests came back good – no sign of infection. I was quite worried about the potential of tetanus wreaking havoc… Your vitals are looking steady, about as normal as you can expect in your circumstances.”

The doctor placed the files down on the small table next to Dean’s bed, turning back to face Dean with a friendly smile. “You mind if I take a look at your stitches?”

“If it gets me out of here quicker Doc, I’m about willing to do whatever you want me to. Not to say that I haven’t been enjoying your company.”

The doctor chuckled light-heartedly as he snapped on a fresh pair of latex gloves. “Alright… Can you give a go at leaning forward for me? Don’t strain yourself, and don’t worry if you can’t do it at first – your range of movement is likely to be limited.”

Dean nodded up at the doctor, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Sam was peeking around Doctor Sullivan, apprehension painted across his face as he watched him. The second Dean tried bending himself forward, his body ached in protest. He gritted his teeth through the pain, placing his arms behind him and pushing down on the bed to give him an extra boost. Doctor Sullivan had an encouraging hand on his shoulder blade, gently guiding him forward.

“God, that sucked…” Dean said with a sharp exhale, breathing heavily as if he had just finished running a marathon.

“Actually, it was incredible,” Doctor Sullivan told him, gloved fingers getting to work peeling off the bandage wrapped around his body. “Most partially paralyzed patients I’ve personally treated have been unable to do what you just did. With time, sure, but never on the first attempt.”

“Eh, what can I say,” Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders, glancing back at Doctor Sullivan with a grin. “Guess I’ve got an angel watching over me.”

“Hmm… I’m inclined to believe you on that one.”

‘If only he knew, eh Cas?’

‘Most people tend to have some kind of a breakdown when they found out that we exist, so probably best not to tell him.’

‘No, probably not, Cas…’

“Mr. Winchester I have to say, every time I examine you, it increases my desire to carry out a study on you.” Doctor Sullivan mumbled from behind him, gently poking and prodding at the tender flesh around his stitches.

“Uh, I’m flattered Doc, but I’m afraid you’re not really my type.”

“On behalf of my brother, I’d like to apologize.” Sam butted in, already looking tired of Dean’s antics after being back for all of fifteen minutes.

“And on behalf of my brother, I’d like to apologize for his lack of a sense of humor. There anything you can do for him doctor, or is he a lost cause?”

‘Would you both let this poor man do his job?’

‘Nothing wrong with making his job a little bit fun, Cas. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were getting jealous of our budding friendship. You worried he’s going to take your place as my best friend?’

Dean knew better not to tease him about that anymore when he could physically feel the glare Cas was sending his way inside his head. It was like Cas’s grace was flaring up inside him, burning hot with… something. Anger? Sadness? Bitterness? Jealousy? Something negative, that was for sure.

‘Chill, Cas. I was joking. No one can replace you; don’t you worry.’

Immediately, the burning sensation running through his veins cooled. He could still sense it’s presence, the power humming just below the surface. It was trippy when he thought about it for too long. It wasn’t just Cas’s grace running through his body. It was Cas. An entire angel just… chilling in his body.

Possession is weird.

Doctor Sullivan finished his examination, wrapping a fresh bandage delicately around Dean’s torso, making sure it was secure and wouldn’t shift around. “Your stitches have healed at a remarkable rate. I’m half-convinced you’re not entirely human, Mr. Winchester.”

“If that was the case, I would have been strong enough and fast enough to stop some random guy shoving me into a pole,” Dean said bitterly. “But hey, healing power’s a cool power to have, I guess.”

“As a medical professional, I’m rather biased towards healing powers being the best superpowers,” Doctor Sullivan pulled the gloves off his hands, tossing them into a nearby bin. “Now, if I know you well enough at this point, I imagine you’re going to ask me if you can go home now?”

“You read me like a book, doctor.”

“Well, personally, I’d recommend you stay at the hospital for a few more days. But… from a medical standpoint, I’m not too concerned with you leaving today. So long as you promise me you’ll take it easy. You’re not entirely healed yet, okay?”

“Look at me,” Dean blanched, gesturing to his legs atop the bed. “There’s not much I can do but ‘take it easy.’ What am I gonna do, run away?”

“No,” Doctor Sullivan said, crossing his arms and giving Dean a stern look. “But I can imagine you might try to do things you used to do and over-exerting yourself.”

“Don’t worry-,” Sam popped up from the chair, stretching out his back as he stands. “-I’ll be keeping a close eye on him.”

Doctor Sullivan nodded at Sam, unfolding his arms with a soft sigh. “If you’re sure, then I’ll go get things ready to discharge you from the hospital, Mr. Winchester.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Dean expressed his gratitude. “Not just for this, but y’know, helping save my life.”

Doctor Sullivan gave him a small smile in response, bobbing his head at Dean in acknowledgment. “It’s what I’m here for. Oh, and thank you for being such an interesting patient. I may just have to write a paper on the man who defied all odds, then continued to amaze with his healing abilities.”

“Long as you make me sound cool and omit the part where I nearly threw up having my catheter removed - then I’m all for it.”

‘That was a… surprisingly uncomfortable procedure.’

‘You mispronounced “agonizingly painful” there, Cas. At least I know I still got some sensation down there…’

‘I was honestly shocked that wasn’t the first thing you asked upon waking up.’

‘What? If my junk still works?’

‘The thought was so loud in your mind that it was like you screamed it. It was a rather disorienting thing to hear upon waking with you.’

‘I mean… can you blame me?’

‘Speaking as an angel that has spent the past twelve years occupying a male vessel… I suppose not.’

‘And, y’know, since you’re sharing my junk now.’

Cas’s silence in his head spoke volumes.

‘I made it weird, didn’t I?’

‘Yes. Which is odd, since I’m usually the one that does that.’

‘Maybe we’re rubbing off on each other?’

‘Perhaps. That’s likely to happen when you spend twenty-four-seven sharing a mind.’

‘Hopefully, there’ll be enough research in the bunker to distract you from becoming a drunken, flannel-wearing, “too old to be hunting but too stubborn to give it up” hunter. And the quicker we get out of here to do that, the better…’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Coz the longer we stay here, the higher the chance the insurance company we scammed comes to make sure I never walk again…’

* * *

Next Chapter - - ->

#destiel fanfiction #Destiel fanfic #destiel fic #Destiel #Dean Winchester/Castiel #castiel/dean winchester #castiel/dean #casdean #fix it #fix it fic #destiel fix it #supernatural spoilers #angst #fluff

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angelsandacceptance · 3 years

Text

Heaven and Hell

“Excuse me?” Chase demands, breaking through the silence.

“You want Anna? Why?” Sam asks.

“Out of the way,” Uriel commands, taking a step forward.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay, I know she's wiretapping your angel chats or whatever, but it's no reason to gank her.”

“Don’t worry,” Uriel smiles cruelly. “I’ll kill her gently.”

“Like hell you will!” Chase says.

“You’re some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?” Dean asks.

“As a matter of fact, we are. And?” Cas says.

Chase frowns at him, brows creasing in disappointment. “What?” She whispers softly.

“And? Anna's an innocent girl,” Sam states.

“She is far from innocent,” Cas says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she's worse than this abomination you've been screwing. Now give us the girl.”

“Uriel, you absolute motherfucker, I am so close to-”

“Chase, enough!” Castiel says. Chase doesn’t respond, just choosing to glare at him. Cas shifts uncomfortably and looks away.

“Give her to us,” Uriel repeats.

“Sorry. Get yourself another one. Try JDate,” Dean says.

“What’s JDate?” Harley asks.

“A Jewish dating site,” Dean responds.

“Huh,” Harley hums, before turning serious again.

“Who's gonna stop us? You three?” Uriel questions. “How about the halfbreed? Or this demon whore?”

Uriel throws Ruby against the wall, punctuating his statement. Dean, alongside Harley, goes to attack him as Cas approaches Sam and Chase.

“Cas, please,” Chase says. Cas places three fingers on Sam’s forehead, making him collapse to the floor.

Just as Cas is about to touch Chase’s forehead, her hair falling into her face, as she stands shaking her head, a bright white light fills the room.

The three conscious hunters and Ruby squint their eyes, before slowly opening them to see Uriel and Cas gone.

Chase helps Sam to his feet, and they all hear Dean in the backroom.

“Anna! Anna!” he shouts.

They all rush to the door of the backroom to see Anna, arms bloodied, with a drawn symbol on the mirror behind her. She looks at them with wide eyes, pale face displaying fear.

“Are they- are they gone?”

“Did you kill them?” Chase asks, fear evident in her voice.

“No, I sent them away. Far away.”

Chase sighs in relief.

“You want to tell us how?” Harley asks, intrigued. She sends a smirk to Chase, who shakes her head, mouthing, ‘Not now’.

Anna gestures to the symbol. “That just popped in my head. I don’t know how I did it. I just...did it.”

Harley snaps a picture of the symbol on her phone so they can memorise it later.

***

The four hunters stand away from Ruby and Anna discussing what to do next.

“So, what do we think?” Dean asks.

“I think Anna's getting more interesting by the second,” Sam says.

“Yeah, I agree. And what did they mean by ‘she's not innocent’?”

“What was that spell too? I mean that’s some serious shit,” Harley says.

“Something's going on with her. See what you can find out,” Dean says.

“What’re you gonna do?” Chase asks.

“Anna may have sent the angels to the outfield, but, sooner or later, they're gonna be back. We got to get ourselves safe now.”

“Bobby’s,” Harley and Chase chorus.

“And Ruby’s riding with us.” Harley says sternly.

***

Chase, Harley, Dean, and Anna sit in Bobby’s panic room with Ruby standing in the doorway.

“Iron walls drenched in salt. Demons can't even touch the joint.” Dean says.

“Which I find racist, by the way.” Ruby mentions.

“Write your congressman.”

“Pretty sure you mean speciesist.”

“Harley,” Chase starts. “You totally just made that up.”

“I didn’t! It is a word.”

“If you insist.”

“It is! Look it up.”

“Sure.”

“I give up.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, throwing them all hex bags.

“Hex bags?” Dean questions.

“Extra-crunchy. They'll hide us from angels, demons, all comers,” Ruby replies.

“Thanks, Ruby,” Dean says quietly before turning to Anna, “Don't lose that. So, Anna, what's playing on angel radio? Anything useful?”

“It's quiet. Dead silence,” Anna answers.

“That’s totally not worrying at all,” Harley says sarcastically.

“I don’t even know what the word worry means,” Chase adds.

“We're in trouble, huh? You guys are scared?” Anna asks.

“Psht, scared?” Chase comments.

“What’s scared?” Harley asks.

“Hey, guys!” They heard Sam yell from the other room.

“Just stay here, okay?” Dean says to Anna before addressing Ruby, “Keep an eye on her.”

***

“How’s the car?” Dean asks Sam.

“I got her. She’s fine. Where’s Bobby?”

“Uh, Dominican,” Chase answers. “He said if we break anything, we buy it.”

“He’s working a job?” Sam assumes.

“God, I sure hope so,” Dean says. “Otherwise, he's at hedonism in a banana hammock and a trucker cap.”

“And now that’s seared into my brain,” Harley sighs.

“All right. What did you find about Anna?” Chase asks.

Sam shrugs. “Nothing much. Her parents were, uh, Rich and Amy Milton -- a church deacon and a housewife.”

“Riveting,” Dean interrupts.

Chase silences him with a look.

“Yeah. But there is something here in the report. Turns out this latest psych episode wasn't her first.”

Chase tilts her head. “It’s not?”

“When she was 2 1/2, she'd get hysterical any time her dad got close. She was convinced that he wasn't her real daddy.”

“Who was?” Dean asks. “The plumber, hmm? A little snaking the pipes?”

“Dude, you’re confusing reality with porn again,” Sam says. Both Harley and Chase have to stifle laughter. Sam continues, “Look, Anna didn't say. She just kept repeating that this real father of hers was mad. Very mad -- like wanted-to-kill-her mad.”

“That’s a little heavy for a two year old,” Harley says.

“Well, she saw a kid's shrink, got better, and grew up normal.”

“Until now,” Harley adds.

“So what’s she hiding?” Dean asks.

“Why don’t you just ask me to my face?” Anna asks from behind the group. They all jump and turn to see Anna appearing from a doorway, Ruby watching from behind her in amusement.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching her?” Chase asks.

“I am watching her.”

“Touche.”

“Anna’s right. Is there anything you want to tell us?” Sam asks Anna.

Anna shakes her head. “About what?”

“The angels said you were guilty of something. Why would they say that?”

“You tell me,” Anna demands. “You tell me why my life has been leveled,” she pauses, emotion bubbling up in her voice. She forces it down. “Why my parents are dead. I don’t know. I swear, I would give anything to know.”

“Okay, so let’s find out,” Chase says, a thoughtful, serious look on her face.

“How?” Dean and Harley chorus, glancing at Chase.

Chase smiles at them knowingly.

***

“We’re here,” Chase announces, entering the room. A familiar figure walks in after her. Chase goes to stand behind Sam and Dean, closest to Harley.

“Pamela!” Sam says in surprise.

“Sam?” Pamela asks, feigning confusion.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Sam?” Pamela asks once more, a hand out, moving forward tentatively. “Is that you?”

“I’m right here.”

Sam approaches Pamela and goes to give her a hug. “Oh,” she says. “You wanna know how I knew it was you?” Sam pulls back from the hug, slightly confused. Pamela grabs a handful of his ass, causing him to jump slightly. “That perky little ass of yours. You could bounce a nickel off that thing.”

“Of course I know it's you, grumpy. I know the other three Winchesters are behind you. Same way I know that's a demon, and that poor girl's Anna and that you've been eyeing my rack.”

“I’m not a Winchester,” Harley says.

“Yet,” coughs Chase from beside her. Harley seems to be the only one to hear, leading her to nudge Chase in the ribcage; hard.

Pamela shrugs. “You might as well be.”

“Uh, uh,” Sam stutters, looking up and away from Pamela’s chest, a pink tinge on his cheeks from embarrassment.

“Don't sweat it, kiddo. I still got more senses than most.”

“Got it,” Sam nods.

“Hey, Anna. How are you? I'm Pamela.”

Anna looks at the others, confused, before looking back at Pamela. “Hi.”

“Chase told me what's been going on. I'm excited to help,” Pamela says with a smile.

“Oh, that’s nice of you.”

“Not really. Any chance I can dick over an angel, I’m taking it.”

“Why?” Anna asks hesitantly.

“They stole something from me,” Pamela responds eerily. She takes off her sunglasses, revealing white eyes. Pamela smiles as though sensing Anna’s sudden shock of fear. “Demon-y, I know. But they're just plastic. Good for business. Makes me look extra-psychic, don't you think? Now...how about you tell me what your deal is? Hmm? Don't you worry.”

Pamela begins to explain the process of what she’ll be doing to Anna to her and the group. “Nice and relaxed. Now, I'm going to count down from five to zero. When we're at zero, you'll be in a deep state of hypnosis. As I count down, just go deeper and deeper, okay? 5... 4... 3... 2... 1. Deep sleep. Deep sleep. Every muscle calm and relaxed. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” Anna responds calmly. Her eyes are shut and she seems more at peace than she has since the Winchesters, plus Harley and Ruby, had found her.

“Now, Anna, tell me... How can you hear the angels? How did you work that spell?”

“I don't know. I just did.”

“Your father... What's his name?”

“Rich Milton.”

“All right. But I want you to look further back... When you were very young... Just a couple of years old.”

“I don't want to.”

“It'll be okay. Anna, just one look - that's all we need.”

“No.”

“What's your dad's name? Your real dad. Why is he angry at you?”

“No. No! No,” Anna screams, “No!”

“Calm down.”

Anna screams again, “He's gonna kill me!”

“Anna, you're safe.”

“No!” She screams. The lights burst and glass explodes everywhere.

“Calm down.”

Again she screamed, “He’s gonna kill me!”

“It's all right, Anna.”

“Anna?” Dean calls out, walking toward her.

“Dean, don’t.” Pamela says just before he gets thrown across the room. “Wake in 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Anna... Anna? You all right?”

“Thank you, Pamela. That helps a lot. I remember now.” Anna’s entire demeanor has changed. While before, she seemed timid, confused, and shy, yet sweet as honey and fiery too, she now is stoic. Her face stays blank as she peers at Pamela, no emotion on her face or in her eyes. Her voice doesn’t waver.

“Remember what?” Chase asks.

“Who I am.”

Chase raises a brow. “Well, ain’t that vague.”

“And you are?” Harley prods.

“I’m an angel. Don't be afraid, I'm not like the others.” Anna says, trying to reassure the hunters, psychic, and demon. It must be extremely easy to sense that many people immediately going on guard, a couple of hands reaching for weapons just in case.

“I don't find that very reassuring,” Ruby discloses.

“Neither do I,” Pamela agrees.

“So...Castiel, Uriel - they're the ones that came for me?” Anna asks.

“You know them?” Sam inquires.

“We were kind of in the same foxhole,” Anna says mildly.

“So, what? They were like your bosses or something?” Chase asks.

“Try the other way around.”

“Look at you,” Dean says combatively.

“So now they want to kill you?” Harley asks, hoping for some clarification.

“Orders are orders. I'm sure I have a death sentence on my head,” Anna responds smoothly, as though the thought was equal to saying she was sure the sky was blue.

“Why?” Pamela asks, suspicious.

“I disobeyed... which, for us, is about the worst thing you can do. I fell.”

“Meaning?” Dean asks.

“She fell to earth, became human,” Chase says.

“Wait a minute. I don't understand. So, angels can just become human?” Sam asks.

“It kind of hurts. Try cutting your kidney out with a butter knife. That kind of hurt. I ripped out my grace.”

“Come again?” Dean asks.

“My grace. It's... energy. Hacked it out and fell. My mother, Amy, couldn't get pregnant. Always called me her little miracle. She had no idea how right she was.”

“So, you just forgot that you were God's little Power Ranger?” Dean asks jokingly.

“The older I got, the longer I was human, yeah.”

“I don't think you all appreciate how completely screwed we are,” Ruby chimes in.

Anna nods to her. “Ruby’s right. Heaven wants me dead.”

“And Hell just wants her. A flesh-and-blood angel that you can question, torture, that bleeds. Sister, you're the Stanley Cup. And sooner or later, Heaven or Hell, they're gonna find you.”

“I know,” Anna responds. “That’s why I’m going to get it back.”

“Get what back?”

“My grace.”

“You can do that?” Dean asks.

“If I can find it.”

“So, what, you're just gonna take some divine bong hit, and, shazam, you're Roma Downey?” Dean asks.

“Something like that,” Anna responds, meeting Dean’s eyes. She doesn’t seem amused by all his jokes and side comments.

“Where might it be?” Chase asks. “If we can get it back, that’s the best option we got.”

“Lost track. I was falling about 10,000 miles per hour at the time.”

“Wait, you mean falling literally,” Harley realizes. “Lovely.”

“Like the way a human eye can see? Like a comet, maybe, or a meteor?” Sam asks suddenly.

“Why do you ask?” Anna asks.

***

Harley, Chase, Sam and Ruby find themselves to be surrounded by old books and magazines. Dean just left to drop Pamela off at home, while Anna is doing who knows what. She’d claimed she wanted alone time, so they let her be.

Sam’s flipping through the pages of one, before he finally lands on one. “Here. In march '85, a meteorite vanished in the night sky over northwestern Ohio. It was sighted nine months before Anna was born, and she was born in that part of Ohio.”

Ruby looks Sam up and down, “You're pretty buff for a nerd.” Chase rolls her eyes at Ruby’s comment.

“Look, I think it was Anna and here, same time - another meteor over Kentucky.” Sam says ignoring Ruby.

“And that’s her grace?”

“Might be.”

“All right. That just narrows it down to an entire state.”

“At least it narrows it down,” Chase sighs.

Ruby rolls her eyes, “Sam...I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Sam asks.

“For bringing you this mess. If I had known, I would have kept my trap shut.”

“Yeah, well, we'll muddle through.”

“Not this time. You do not want to get between these two armies. It's Godzilla and Mothra. If one side doesn't get us, the other one will.”

“So, what do you want to do? Dump Anna and run? Forget it. Look, I know the angels freak you out.”

“Forget the angels. It's Alastair I'm scared of.”

“Then vamoose your caboose and let us handle it,” Harley points out, earning an eye roll to match her best friend’s.

“Alastair?” Sam questions.

“You met him in the church. Practically the grand inquisitor downstairs. Picasso with a razor,” Ruby answers.

“And?” Harley asks.

“And he should pull him out and throw him back in the pit... if he weren't so out of shape.”

“Ruby…” Sam says, it’s almost a plea.

“No, your abilities - you're getting flabby.”

“Yeah, so how do I tone up?”

“You know how. You know what you got to do.”

“No, I'm not doing that anymore.”

“Sam…”

“I said no.”

“Well, then you better pray that Anna gets her groove back, or we're all dead.”

***

Sam leads Dean and Anna to the table Harley and Chase occupy. Sam is pointing at a newspaper article from several years before.

“Union, Kentucky. Found some accounts of a local miracle.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, interested.

“What kind of miracle?” Chase asks.

“I’m assuming the miracle kind,” Harley notes.

“Yeah. In '85, there was an empty field outside of town. Six months later, there was a full-grown oak. They say it looks a century old at least,” Sam says, animatedly explaining what he’d read.

“Anna, what do you think?” Dean asks, turning to the red haired girl.

“The grace. Where it hit, it could have done something like that, easy.”

“So grace ground zero -- it's not destruction. It's…” Dean trails off.

“Pure creation,” Anna confirms.

***

“So,” Chase breaks the silence as they drive along the dark road. “How long do you think before Ruby says something she isn’t supposed to?”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Harley sighs.

“What would be worse though? Dean finding out you have a crush on him or me having a crush on Cas?” Chase blanks, freezing.

“Oh my God,” Harley says.

“No-no that isn’t what I meant and you know it! Shut up, shut up right now!”

“I can’t believe you just admitted it!”

“No, that isn’t what I meant. I meant it like, it would be bad if Dean thinks I have a crush on him and like “finds out” I do,” Chase tries to defend, putting air quotes around the words ‘finds out’. “Not that I actually have a crush on Cas, because I don’t. You know?”

“Sure you don’t.”

“I don’t!”

Harley simply hums as they continue behind the Impala, the darkness around them growing thicker as they head to Kentucky, a short twelve hour drive.

***

“It’s beautiful,” Dean and Chase chorus, staring at the wondrous oak tree, gigantic in size.

“It’s where the grace touched down. I can feel it,” Anna says.

Chase shivers, immediately knowing what Anna’s referring to. The power resonating from the area is dull, probably from how many years it lay dormant, but still there nonetheless. It felt surreal.

“You ready to do this?” Harley asks.

Anna smiles slightly, shaking her head. “Not really.”

They all approach the tree, looking around for a sign of what and where the grace might be.

“What are we looking for?” Sam says after a few moments.

Anna, placing a hand on the tree, frowns. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?” Chase asks, mimicking Anna, as though she could tell what was going through her head.

Anna makes eye contact with them, slowly sweeping her gaze from one to the other, before landing on Chase, whose question still lays unanswered in the still air. “Because it’s no longer here.”

***

“We still got the hex bags. I say we head back to the panic room,” Dean says hurriedly.

“What, forever?” Ruby demands.

“I’m just thinking out loud here!”

“Oh, you call that thinking?”

“Ruby, can it!” Chase snaps.

“Oh, whatever you say, angel-lover.”

“At least I know to stay away from trash!”

“Chase, cool it,” Harley says, not bothering to hide the smile on her face.

“No! No, go on! Got anything else to say?” Ruby asks, approaching Chase. Sam grabs Ruby by the arm as Dean puts himself in front of Chase. Harley just watches in amusement.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey. Stop it,” Sam says.

“Anna's grace is gone. You understand? She can't angel up. She can't protect us. We can't fight Heaven and Hell. One side maybe, but not both. Not at once. And your favorite angel is fighting against us as much as everyone else is, so get over it.”

“Um, guys?” Anna interrupts softly. “The angels are talking again.”

“What are they saying?” Sam asks.

“It's weird... Like a recording... a loop. It says, "Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or..."

“Or what?” Dean demands.

Anna looks up, discomfort plainly displaying itself. “Or we hurl him back into damnation.”

“Who is it?” Chase asks suddenly.

“What?” Anna asks, tilting her head.

“Who is it? Saying that. Who the hell is threatening my family?”

Anna stays silent for a moment. “Chase,” she begins.

“Tell me.”

“It’s Castiel’s voice.”

Chase takes a step back, betrayal, then anger crossing over her features. “I am going to kill that feathery, flighty, stupid, son of a bitch.” Her voice is slow and controlled - Murderous. Harley puts a comforting hand on Chase’s shoulder, but Chase shrugs her off. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. We knew they would stoop low to get Anna back.”

Sam’s eyes light up. “Chase, you’re brilliant!”

“I am. What’s your point?”

“Anna.. Do you know of any weapon that works on an angel? To what? To kill them?”

Anna sighs. “Nothing we could get to. Not right now.”

“Okay, wait, wait. I say we call Bobby. We get him back from hedonism.”

“Dean, what's he gonna tell us that we don't already know?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know,” Dean cries out. “But we’ve got to think of something!”

***

“Don't talk like that,” Dean says softly. Chase slows her footsteps. She’d been following Anna out to ask if she was okay, but “accidentally” overheard part of their conversation. She on purpose stays to hear the rest.

“I disobeyed. Lucifer disobeyed. It's our murder one, and I knew it. Maybe I got to pay.”

“Yeah, well, we've all done things we got to pay for.”

“I got to tell you something. You're not gonna like it,” Anna says.

A pause ensues. Chase curses herself for being short, because now she is awkwardly hiding behind a car, and now can’t see what is happening. “Okay,” Dean says slowly. “What?”

“About a week ago, I heard the angels talking... About you... What you did in Hell. Dean, I know. It wasn't your fault. You should forgive yourself.”

Chase frowns. ‘Excuse me?’

“Anna, I don't w-want to, uh... I don't want to... I can't talk about that.” Dean’s voice is flighty, causing Chase to frown deeper.

“I know. But when you can, you have people that want to help. You are not alone. That's all I'm trying to say.”

Another pause, longer than the previous one interrupts their conversation. “What was that for?” Dean finally asks.

‘Did Anna just kiss Dean?!’

“You know. Our last night on earth. All of that.”

“You’re stealing my best line,” Dean says jokingly. “But…”

“But?”

A short pause. Again, Chase curses her inconvenient hiding spot.

“Ah,” Anna continues. “I see.”

‘See what?’ Chase asks herself. ‘I can’t see anything!’

“Yeah,” Dean says awkwardly. “But not how you think.”

“You can’t keep running from everything, Dean.”

“I can sure as Hell try,” Dean says. He’s obviously intending for it to come across as a joke, but Chase can hear the underlying seriousness.

“She’s lucky.”

‘She?’

Dean laughs. “Not likely.”

“Give yourself more credit than that. I’m sure you’re not as alone in your intentions as you believe.”

‘Intentions? Like what? Who the hell are they talking about?’

“She could never feel the same.”

‘OH MY GOD,’ Chase thinks to herself, trying to keep from squealing. A hand is clapped over her mouth tightly, as she frantically puts the pieces together. ‘They’re talking about Harley!!! I fucking knew it!’

“Don’t be so sure,” Anna says knowingly.

“We should get inside,” Dean says. “It’s a bit cold out here.”

Chase balks, before rushing up towards the house again.

“Did you hear something?” Anna asks.

Dean’s voice fades to nothing as Chase closes the door. “Probably just an animal.”

Chase grins widely to herself, before rushing off to relay the events to Harley.

***

“I don't know, man. Where's Ruby?” Sam asks. Chase and Harley shrug.

“Hey, she's your Hell buddy,” Dean says, taking a long drink from his flask.

“Little early for that, isn't it?” Anna asks him. Dean gives her a lopsided smile.

“It’s 2 a.m. somewhere.”

“You okay?” Anna asks, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Yeah, of course.”

The doors rattle, distracting everyone, before they burst open. Castiel and Uriel enter. Chase subconsciously steps in front of Dean, glaring harshly at Castiel.

“Hello, Anna. It's good to see you,” Castiel says, inclining his head towards her.

“Bullshit,” Chase says, “Why are you here?”

Castiel glances at Chase with confusion in his eyes, before ignoring her, which just seems to rub salt into an unknown wound.

“How? How did you find us?” Cas and Uriel glance at Dean. Sam and everyone else looks to him in shock. “Dean?”

“I'm sorry,” Dean says to Anna.

“Why?” Harley asks.

“Because they gave him a choice. They either kill me... or kill all of you. I know how their minds work.”

Anna gives Dean a tight hug, pecking him on the cheek. “You did the best you could. I forgive you. Okay. No more tricks. No more running. I'm ready.”

Harley stiffens at Anna’s actions, but Chase just sends her a knowing smile, which confuses her enough to distract her.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says.

“No, you’re really not,” Anna replies. “You don’t know the feeling.”

“Still, we have a history. It’s just-”

“I get it. Orders are orders.” Anna sighs. “I know. Just make it quick.”

Suddenly, the barn gets colder. Alastair, Ruby, and another demon appear in the barn. Ruby is covered in blood, causing everyone to look at her in shock, some looking at her with concern.

“How dare you come in this room... you pussing sore?” Uriel asks, spitting the words to Alastair.

“That is literally the first fucking thing that you’ve said that I don’t find absolutely vile. Good job. Progress,” Chase says.

“Shut up, you repulsive-”

“Aaand, you’re back to square one,” Chase tsks.

“Turn around and walk away now,” Castiel says to Alastair and his demon cronies.

“Think I’ll take my chances,” Alastair replies.

The angels and demons begin fighting, Castiel trying to exorcise Alastair. Harley wondered why he wasn’t trying to smite him.

“Sorry, kiddo. Why don't you go run to daddy?” Alastair taunts as one of his cronies collapses because Uriel exorcises him. “Potestas inferna, me confirma. Potestas inferna, me confirma. Potestas inferna, me confirma!”

Dean hits Alastair on the back of the head with a crowbar.

Alastair turns to Dean, “Dean, Dean, Dean... I am so disappointed. You had such promise.” He goes to attack the four hunters.

While Uriel was dealing with the other cronie Anna steals his necklace and smashes it on the ground. A glowing white light escapes and flows into Anna’s mouth.

“Shut your eyes. Shut your eyes! Shut your eyes!” Anna yells. The Winchesters and Co. do as she says, opening them after a flash of light dissipates. Alastair was gone leaving the knife. Anna poofed away, finally having gotten her grace back.

“Well, what are you guys waiting for? Go get Anna. Unless, of course, you're scared,” Dean taunts.

“This isn't over,” Uriel says almost threateningly.

“Oh, is it? Because you don’t seem to have any more moves to make,” Harley points out.

“Silence halfbreed.”

“Don’t call her that, you dick!” defends Dean.

“And why not? It’s what the abomination is.”

“She’s not an abomination. She’s my best friend.”

“It’s fine, Dean. I don’t give a shit about his opinion anyway,” Harley says, “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

Castiel and Uriel poof off to God knows where.

“But you are,” Dean says softly.

Chase and Sam seeing a potential moment make themselves scarce and head to the other side of the barn.

“I am what?” Harley asks, confusion evident in her voice.

“Worth it,” Dean says, “I know you don’t think you are, but-”

“Excuse you? I’m amazingly fabulous.”

“Don’t give me that crap. I know you. Maybe not as well as Chase, but I know you.”

“I’m not giving you crap.”

“Harley for someone who wanted to act, you're a terrible liar. I know all your bravado is bullshit. We all do.”

“So what?”

“So I want you to know you’re worth it.”

“I’m not though Dean. I’m just another monster.”

Dean begins walking toward her stopping when they’re inches away. He pulls her into a hug, and she gladly accepts.

“You’re not a monster.” Dean softly says into her ear.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I...you try to do the right thing, even if you don’t know what it is.”

“Can we just stay here for a while?”

“We can do anything you want sweetheart,” Dean says with a suggestive undertone.

Harley laughs it off thinking it’s just Dean being his flirty self. They just stand there in each other’s arms for what feels like forever and no time at all.

***

“What took you so long to get here?” Deans asks Ruby upon entering the room where she had been talking with Sam and Chase. She rolls her eyes at him.

“Sorry I'm late with the demon delivery. I was only being tortured,” she replies sarcastically.

“I got to hand it to you, Sammy. Bringing them all together all at once -- angels and demons. It was a damn good plan.”

“Yeah, well, when you got Godzilla and Mothra on your ass, best to get out of their way and let them fight.”

“Now you’re just bragging,” Chase says.

“What’s wrong with bragging?” Harley asks jokingly. “You do it all the time.”

Chase shrugs. “I’m not bragging. At that point, I’m simply stating facts.”

“That is bragging. You are literally bragging right now,” Sam laughs.

Chase waves him off. “I’m just glad Anna’s okay.”

“So, I guess she's some big-time angel now, huh? She must be happy... Wherever she is,” Sam says.

“I doubt it,” Dean adds.

They all frown at his words, letting them sink in.

***

Chase all but squeals as she starts the car. Harley shoots her an odd look, but Chase just smiles widely at her. “Oh my God, I have so much to tell you!”

“Okay? What do you have to tell me?” Harley asks, paranoid.

“Dean likes you!”

“Not this again. Every time we’re in the car.”

“Oh, hush!” Chase frowns. “That’s only cause I can’t say this in front of other people. I mean I can. I just thought you’d appreciate me being a bit more discreet about it. Anyhoo, I overheard Anna and Dean talking about it.”

“Did he actually say he likes me?”

“Well, no, but-” “So you have no proof. That what you’re telling me?”

“Wellll.” Chase sighs. “Okay, so here’s what happened. I was hiding because I overheard Anna and Dean talking and they were talking about Dean’s time in Hell. All very vague, and I’m not sure what it was about. Then Anna kisses Dean-”

“So?” Harley asks curtly.

Chase rolls her eyes. “‘So?’” she says mockingly. “Soooo. Dean is all ‘what was that for’ and Anna is all ‘last night on earth’ and Dean’s all ‘you’re stealing my best line but-’ and then Anna is like ‘But?’ and there’s this pause. I’m pretty sure Dean looked over at where we were, because Anna just goes ‘oh, I see’ and then is like ‘she’s lucky’ after telling him he can’t run from everything.”

“Did you actually see where he was looking?”

“Well, no, but- Don’t interrupt me, I’m not finished!” Chase huffs. “Anyway, as I was saying. Dean says he can certainly try and then Anna tells him that his intentions are not one sided, meaning there are intentions there and that she has noticed it being reciprocated, which mean she had to have been talking about you and Dean, and you like Dean, which means he likes you! Get it?”

“So you’re crazy. I don’t even know if I like him yet. I mean I think I might, but I’m not really sure. Besides I thought Dean was all in love with Cassie?”

“That was a fling and was years ago. Why would you think of her of all people?”

“I don’t know maybe because that’s the longest relationship Dean’s ever had?”

“Okay, fair, but like, again. Years ago. And this is something Anna has evidence of and she has no clue who Cassie is so,” Chase says in a ‘duh’ tone of voice.

“She could’ve just picked up on him liking someone and was trying to be nice.”

“Anna. Right. She was just trying to be nice. That makes complete sense,” Chase says in a heavily sarcastic tone. “You’re just being stubborn!”

“I’m always stubborn, besides she was trying to get in his pants right before that.”

“See, that’s true! Which means she simply didn’t know that Dean reciprocated feelings, but she did say she previously saw evidence of them being reciprocated. Ruby hates him, and I’m his sister so that’s an obvious “ew”, so you’re the only one left, and let’s not fool anyone here. Our argument earlier did not go unnoticed by our surrounding companions. She totally knows you got the hots for my brother.”

“I do not have the hots for him! I said I might like him that’s all. Anyway I’m not the kind of person that gets to fall in love.”

“That’s bullshit,” Chase deadpans, suddenly deadly serious. “You’re an amazing, wonderful, kind, loving, hilarious, beautiful person and I’ll be damned before I see you never get a happy ending simply because you believe it when certain dickheads tell you you don’t deserve one. Even if that dickhead is yourself.”

“Okay, that’s very sweet, but I just don’t want to risk falling in love and outliving that person by some vampire superpower.”

“Ummmm. Okay, I don’t have anything to combat that other than, we’re all gonna die one day. I can fall in love with a very humany human person and they could die the next day easily. Just because it will eventually end, you ending up immortal or not, doesn’t mean it isn’t worth the time you do have. Don’t let your fear of losing Dean- or anyone, don’t look at me like that- keep you from pursuing something that’ll make you happy now. All I’m saying.”

***

Jack and Baby are parked side by side along the mostly deserted highway, a lookoff point behind them, showcasing scenery that would leave most breathless. However, the four hunters and friends who sit on the hoods of their respective cars don’t look much at scenery. Two hold beers, the boys of the group, while the girls hold water bottles, making faces at Sam and Dean to tease them. Chase and Harley clink their water bottles, mocking Sam and Dean, who’d clinked their beer bottles.

“I can’t believe we made it out of there,” Chase sighs.

“Again,” Sam adds.

Dean and Harley laugh slightly, but note the seriousness of the situation.

“I know you guys heard him,” Dean says.

The other three cast cautious glances at each other before looking to Dean. “Heard who?” Sam asks, feigning ignorance in case Dean would rather shove the topic back under the rug.

“Alastair. What he said about me. About how I have promise.”

“We heard him,” Chase confirms.

“You’re not curious?” Dean asks in surprise.

“Dean, all of us are damn curious, but we’re not gonna pry.”

“You said you didn’t want to talk about Hell,” Harley gently reminds. “So why would we ask? It’d only make you upset.”

“It wasn’t four months, you know,” Dean says.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I think I know how long my brother was gone,” Chase notes.

Dean meets her eyes briefly, before looking away. “I mean, yeah, it was four months up here but. I don’t know. Down there time is different.”

“How long was it?” Harley asks cautiously.

“More like forty years.”

Chase makes a noise of hurt in her throat, and Sam lets out a small, “My God.”, but silence falls on all of them as they gaze at Dean in shock, mingled with horror. Tears shine in Dean’s eyes, further causing the three to be pained- Dean doesn’t often open himself up to vulnerability, so this is obviously difficult, traumatic, and painful for him.

Dean’s voice cracks as he tries to explain to them just a fraction of what he’d gone through. “They, uh... They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you... Until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly... I would be whole again... like magic... just so they could start in all over. And Alastair... at the end of every day... every one... he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack... if I put souls on... if I started the torturing.

“And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For 30 years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy.” Dean meets Sam’s eyes, before glancing over at the two girls. “Guys, I just couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls.” A tear escapes, falling down Dean’s face. “The -- the things that I did to them.”

“Dean, you held out for thirty years,” Sam points out.

“That’s longer than most anyone!” Harley adds.

Chase gets up and puts a tentative, but supportive, arm around her brother, who leans in slightly to accept the comfort. “It’s okay, Dean. You did good. You held out longer than I would have, than anyone I know probably could have. You’re gonna be okay.”

“How I feel... This... inside me... I wish I couldn't feel anything. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing.” Dean finally breaks down further, more tears escaping as he begins to cry. Harley and Chase’s eyes meet over his shoulder as Chase fully hugs him. Tears are shining in both girls’ eyes.

The four hunters stay there in silence as Dean lets out a portion of his pain to let them carry. Chase, Harley, and Sam can’t help the feeling of helplessness they feel. They couldn’t truly help Dean or ever begin to understand what he went through. They could only hold him, let him speak if he wishes to speak, be silent when he wishes to be silent, and constantly remind him they were there.

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

You Do, a Sam-centric, Dean/Castiel coda for 15x06 “Golden Time”, 4.9k

Sam feels like he's the only one that cares about defeating Chuck. Dean, while physically present, cannot bother to lend a hand. And Cas is willing to help, but would rather do it on his own.

After Cas lets slip that the reason for his voluntary exile begins with the letter 'D' and rhymes with Mean, Sam puts Chuck on the back burner to deal with the more pressing issue of reuniting Dean and his best friend. Only with how stubborn Dean is avoiding research, it'll be ten times worse to make him talk to Cas.

Luckily Sam has a few new tricks up his sleeve now that he embraces an aspect of himself he never allowed himself to try. Will he help his brother do what needs to be done? Or will his plan bring forth an entirely unexpected outcome?

Sam waits until Dean leaves to sag against his seat. He scrubs a hand down his face, hoping he can wipe away the pent-up frustration caused by Dean’s visit. Unfortunately its roots sunk deep and cannot be torn so easily.

The worst part was Dean barely did anything to warrant such powerful irritation.

Dean strolled in for all of five minutes, robe sweeping behind him, asking where his slippers were. Sam glanced away from the page of his book to find his brother barefooted. Toes wiggling underneath the wide curtain of his cowboy print pajamas. A welcome change from the hot dogs glued to Dean’s legs, except Sam can’t stare at the pants for too long without blushing. Always stumbling across one cowboy or another that looked inappropriate.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said, “Why don’t you check the last place you wore them and start from there?”

He thought that would drive Dean elsewhere. Instead Dean took his suggestion as an invitation, lounging across the table from him with a bag of chips on his lap. Forcing Sam to listen while he checked off every memory with his slippers present in them. Chomped on his snack with crumbs spewing every couple of words, a few shooting so far ahead they land on his book.

A blood vessel in Sam’s forehead twinged with the need to burst. “Dean,” Sam cut him off, interrupting his retelling of when he used one of his slippers to kill a spider in the dungeons. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m kind of busy…”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” he said, wagging the book, “Research… to take down Chuck?”

A dark shadow crossed his expression, surfacing briefly only to disappear in the next moment. “Right…”

Sam arched a brow. “Y’know, you could forget about the slippers and join -”

“I think I just remembered where they are,” he said, standing. “Thanks for the help, Sammy.” Dean shuffled towards the exit, a cowboy riding a stallion with back arched in pleasure the last thing he saw.

He marks the page he was on, shutting the book. Too bothered to continue researching. Pointless even trying since there’s a more pressing problem that persists, an obstacle better dealt with before facing Chuck. Because if there’s any chance of beating God, Sam needs his brother and not the sad, soft shell wearing his clothes and eating his food.

Eating all their food. They don’t have the money to support Dean’s void-like stomach. Sam almost purchased an array of healthy snacks during the last grocery trip. Only rejecting the idea when he imagined how bad of a fit Dean would pitch if Sam returned with peapods and gluten-free wafers. Or, worse, his brother accepting the food with indifference.

Dean’s spiral spun so far down Sam wouldn’t put it past him. It frightens Sam to see his brother like this, especially since he figured it was over after their milk-run to Rowena’s. After Sam broke past Dean’s walls with his plaintive speech and offered a hand to help him out of his darkness. Like he did for him when Chuck’s betrayal and Rowena’s death were still fresh wounds.

But where Sam let Dean pull him to safety, it seems Dean left Sam hanging.

“I don’t know what to do,” Sam confesses, his soft voice echoing in the cavernous library. He taps his fingers on the book, gnawing on his lip.

There were only so many options to choose from, and Sam exhausted most of them. Space only gave Dean’s depression room to grow. Confronting it hadn’t worked either. Giving Dean a target to focus his anger, confusion, and sadness failed for the first time in a long while. And Sam’s Hail Mary never answered his messages.

Still… Sam looks to his phone, wondering. The next call could be the one. That spark of hope pushes him to grabbing his phone and redialing Cas’s number.

Unlike every other time he tried, Cas picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Cas!” Sam sighs, an ounce of relief pouring into him. “Cas, man, it’s so good to hear you.”

“It’s… nice to hear from you as well.”

“Where have you been?” he asks, “It’s not like you to go so long without at least checking up. We were worried about you.”

“I… I’m sure you were worried, Sam,” Cas says, tone immediately curdling the relief in Sam’s stomach. “I was away. After everything with Chuck and Jack and De… and it all, I needed some time to myself.”

Sam nods, frown marring his face. “Understandable. Wish you could have told us -”

“I expressed my intentions clearly to Dean,” Cas says, “Has he not told you?”

“Now that you ask…” Fear plucks a frightful chord across Sam’s heart. “Dean hadn’t mentioned it at all.” Thinking back, Dean doesn’t talk about Cas anymore unless prompted. Gone were the hours he would spend telling Sam pointless stories of times he and Cas were together. Mentioning the angel when something reminded Dean of him. Staring at his phone with a tiny smile on his face, in deep conversation with Cas.

“Of course.”

There’s an empty space Cas tiptoes around, an event not mentioned. “What -”

“So,” Cas interrupts, “Chuck is picking up where he left off?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, “But -”

“But we will do our best to stop him,” he finishes for him, “I’m already on my way towards Heaven, to see if there might be anything there that he forgot. That might detail a weakness of some kind.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sam shrugs, “but I could really use you here…”

A harsh breath blows through the speaker. “I… I’m already halfway to Heaven’s gate, Sam. Turning around now would be… it would be a waste of my usability.”

“That doesn’t matter Cas,” Sam tells him, “Right now Heaven can wait. You’re more important. What with you leaving so suddenly after the hellmouth, we never got the chance to check in.”

Silence. Sam waits for Cas’s response, checking every now and then to make sure the angel didn’t hang up on him. “Sorry,” he says after a while, “I… I was distracted. You want to know how I’m feeling?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m… fine .”

“Really?” Sam arches his brows so high they fly off to Missouri. “ Fine ?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because none of us are fine,” Sam scoffs, “I wasn’t for awhile and Dean, he…” He pauses, expecting Cas to jump in and demand he continue. Only it never comes. “Dean, he,” Sam fumbles awkwardly, “He’s kind of let the whole thing get to him and… it’s bad over here.”

Cas hums over the line. “I see… this call wasn’t about Chuck. It’s about Dean.”

“Cas -”

“If Dean truly has need of me ,” he says, voice wet and thick, hoarse from keeping something at bay, “than Dean should be able to call and express this himself. But per my last conversation with him, Sam, I highly doubt I’m the solution you seek. I’d probably just… make everything worse .”

“What? No - Cas -”

“I have to go, Sam,” Cas sighs, “there are patrol cars lined up along the highway, and I’d rather not be pulled over for talking on the phone. Goodbye.” He hangs up despite Sam’s protest, a flat beep ringing in his ears.

Sam taps the end button, mulling over the conversation. Uses the few minutes spent with Cas to shed light on weeks observing his brother. Rethinks his earlier judgments about the root of his problems. Whenever life slights Dean he focuses all his anger and fury on it. It helped them countless times during hunts or facing powerful enemies. Except if Dean’s target is himself, all that destruction turns inward.

Which explains absolutely everything about Dean’s behavior.

“Dammit, Dean…” Sam tugs at his hair, annoyance flaring up at his brother’s actions. Whatever they were sent fissures into the foundation of his and Cas’s relationship. The shockwaves wrecking everything else around them. Worse, Sam only realizing too late.

Now Dean haunts the Bunker’s hall, the only ghost left, and their friend keeps his spirit tethered with his anger.

“There’s got to be a way to fix it…”

Sam knows what has to happen, and how unlikely it will come to pass. Dean would rather spend twenty hours surrounded by books than take steps towards repairing his mistakes. Even with the years of growth under his belt. Because when it comes to Cas, Dean is too short. And Cas followed his lead.

Meaning neither have ever finished a fight, preferring to drop it and sweep a rug over what happened. Neglect the necessary fixes until, apparently, the wood under their feet rotted through and sent them crashing into the shit they buried.

“Not this time,” Sam says, standing, “This time they can’t ignore it.”

His passion wanes when he thinks about forcing two of the most stubborn people to do things they aren’t ready for. While he may have wounded God, Sam lacks the necessary power to switch up the script.

“Or,” he thinks, glancing at a nearby box, “maybe I don’t?”

It’s not any of the stuff they carried in from Rowena’s study. Instead one of the two they scrounged from the truck where the coven they ganked hid. Sam digs through the hex bags and books to find what he needs. A needle. String. Buttons, hay, herbs, and lots of tarp.

There’s one ingredient missing though. Sam sneaks over to Dean’s room, hoping his brother hadn’t nested there yet. Luck shines on him. It’s empty save the empty cartons, bags, and bottles scattered around the room. He quickly sifts through all of it for a single hair on Dean’s pillow. Then Sam races back to the library to set to work.

Unfortunately with all the technical knowledge, Sam isn’t the craftiest witch. His thread zig-zags unevenly in the overstuffed doll’s body, and the button eyes are placed crookedly on the ‘face’. One of its arms are longer than the other, and the legs disproportionately half the size of the body.

“That’s not important,” he says, scanning his handiwork, “it’s a vessel for the spell. Nothing more.” Clutching the doll tightly to his chest, Sam moves onto the next stage in his hastily thrown together plan. Find Dean.

If not in his room, Sam knows the only other place he will be.

Peeking into the kitchen, hidden by the shadows, Sam sees his brother chomping on a massive sandwich. Headphones affixed to his ears, another break that lessens the difficulty of Sam’s work.

Sam brings the doll to his lips, almost an inch of space between it and the head. “Dean,” he says, “eating isn’t going to fix anything. You’re being a stubborn idiot, hurting Cas and yourself in the process.”

Dean stiffens, cheeks puffed out with food. Swallowing, he looks at the sandwich in his hands. Then places it on the dish in disgust.

Smirking, Sam continues. “You can’t do this anymore, pretend that you’re okay. Because you’re not. There’s only one thing that can fix this - Cas . Don’t be afraid, anymore, Dean. You know what to do… now give it to him.”

A slight rustle in the kitchen forces Sam to press himself against the hallway, doll smothered in his stomach. With the limited vision he has, Sam watches Dean shuffle towards an exit. His .

“The other way,” Sam suggests to the doll, “go the other way!”

Dean pauses, brows scrunching for a moment until they disappear with a turn. His brother retreats the other way, Sam breathing a sigh of relief.

With the kitchen abandoned, Sam claims the space for himself. Wraps Dean’s grotesque creation to preserve it if he wants and grabs a beer for himself. Takes Dean’s place and drinks in victory.

When the bottle hits the table Sam feels an unnerving stare tickling his chin.

The voodoo doll stares at him from its resting place, reminding him of the steps taken to achieve success. Without annoyance or excitement distorting his thoughts, Sam reviews what he did with a clear mind. How he used magic to influence his brother’s actions. His brother who confessed how much he struggles with identifying which were his own choices and which were those of a higher power.

His beer tastes flat. “What did I do…” he sighs, leaning on the table. Sam cannot stop Dean, probably on the phone with Cas. Helped across the final obstacle with Sam’s magic.

“It’s all for the best,” he reminds himself, “it was a one-time thing.”

Unable to take the judgmental glare from the expressionless doll, Sam snatches it and heads to his room. Hides it in his nightstand drawer and leaves for the library again.

Hoping his ‘help’ didn’t drive the wedge deeper.

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

All day, Sam stalked Dean’s every movement. From breakfast in the morning to cautiously snooping around the corner when he went to the bathroom. Curious to see if his suggestion from yesterday carried over. However nothing seemed too bizarre.

Actually Dean fell into normalcy, yesterday’s magical shove exactly what he needed to climb from the hole he wallowed in. Dean changed into actual clothes and set about doing chores. Cleaning floors, folding laundry - while it wasn’t research Sam took the signs as symbols of recovery. Dean moves at his own pace, and will research when he feels ready. Given the unburdened state of his shoulders, it could be any day.

By the time night rolls around, Sam lulled into easy comfort.

Suddenly the Bunker door slams open with the force of a hurricane, echoing throughout the cavernous building. Sam, on his way to the kitchen, spins on his heel. Drops his book to reach for his gun. Freezing only when he notices the recognizable figure gazing down at them. Chest heaving with words he stutters to speak.

“Cas?” Dean asks, hold on his gun limp, “Cas… what are you?”

“Did you mean it?”

Dean stiffens in his seat, cold metal of his weapon clattering to the floor. Sam, thankful it was on safety, finds his nerves fraying further after noticing the tense way Dean holds himself. “What?” he asks, breaking his and Cas’s stare.

“Did… you… mean it?” Each step carries a blow more powerful than any amount of Heavenly wrath. Dean flinches with each point of contact between the stairs and Cas. Retreats into his shell the closer Cas flies.

Sam rushes between them before Cas lays a hand on Dean. His mind races with an apology, heart sinking at how his plan soured. “Cas, it’s -”

“Quiet,” he tells him, “This doesn’t concern you.”

“But -” “Dean,” Cas says, softer now. Like they’re in the eye of his storm. “Dean, you left me a message. Did you mean it?”

His brother drags the answer out. Rubs his neck, then his shoulder, and finally squeezes his cheeks and releases a puff of air. “Look,” he starts, “if you’re reacting this bad -”

“That’s not what I asked.” Cas’s lip trembles when he asks again, “Did you mean it ?” A shine catches Sam’s eye, and at first he thinks it’s his friend’s blade. Only, on closer inspection, he realizes it’s Cas’s phone. “Dean, please -”

“Yes, I did.” Dean keeps his lids closed shut, wrinkles layered over each other on his face while he braces for impact. “I… I always did, Cas,” he admits. A whisper Sam strains to hear.

“Dean…” Cas pushes past Sam and lunges for Dean. Sam shouts, lost in the clatter of the chair and the other’s yelps. He strides over to pry Cas off his brother, and nearly trips over his own feet when Sam sees Dean’s arms wind tight around Cas’s midsection. Hears the familiar sounds of an almost-not fight that makes his ears burst into flames. Peeking at their faces, Sam confirms his suspicions.

They’re kissing. Through tears, smiles, and laughter, they kiss. Cas pulls back, gasping for breath. Forehead against Dean’s, he asks, “All this time?”

“Of course,” Dean says, “I might not have known it but… looking back, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Aware of how their lips drift toward each other again, Sam clears his throat. Dean tears his gaze away and remembers Sam’s presence. He sits up, Cas in his lap, and smiles with too much innocence. “Hey Sam…”

“Hey,” he says, looking between them, “so…” “So…” Dean shrugs, “so this is a thing?”

“Apparently…” “My apologies Sam,” Cas says, standing. Offers a hand to Dean and when he rises to full height does not let go. “I was a little… focused on my mission.”

“Your… your mission,” Sam frowns, ache surfacing from the depths of his consciousness to nudge at his temple. “You mean to Heaven -”

Cas flushes a worrisome crimson. “I… I almost forgot…”

“Forgot what?”

“I had parked outside Heaven’s gate when I noticed my phone,” he turns to Dean, “after listening I forgot all about Chuck, about -”

Dean shushes him, gently running his thumb across Cas’s cheek. “It’s okay. You can go to Heaven some other time. Right now it’s more important you’re here and we can…” His gaze briefly flits over to Sam. “We can discuss what was said… in private?”

“Private?”

“My room,” Dean clarifies. The words hissed under breath as if speed could muddle their intention. Sam and Cas understood regardless.

“Of course,” Cas beams. Twitches while he tries to measure the amount of joy he shows on his face but unable to fight the curl of his lips. “Much more important things to talk about.” He follows Dean out of the room, Sam left behind with an upturned chair, Dean’s gun, confusion, and a phone.

Cas’s phone.

Sam snatches it without hesitation. Righting the fallen chair, he opens the phone with no hesitation. Concern for his friend’s privacy very low on his radar, overpowered by the burning curiosity to figure out what Dean said to inspire an action like Cas’s embrace. And why he returned it.

Since Cas doesn’t have a password protecting his phone, it takes a few seconds to find the evidence he needs.

Sam hovers over the play button, conscious finally kicking in. Wonders if he truly needs to hear an obviously intimate conversation that, in the grand scheme of their life, does not involve him. But then he thinks about the voodoo doll he has sitting in his dresser, and begins the voicemail. Knowing that none of this would be possible without his interference.

He listens, and sees the whole picture for what it is.

“Hey Cas, it’s… it’s me, Dean. I’m - uh… I’m calling because I, well, because I thought about praying and then I thought about how Chuck could listen in on that like some perv…” Some shame oozes into Sam. “But this, it feels like a prayer. You’re probably feeling a little twinge, right now, aren’t you? Probably not now, because you didn’t answer the phone. But whatever you’re doing you might… and prayer or no prayer, Chuck seems to know what goes on in our lives anyway so… I guess I got to get over it. It’s not like this is a dirty secret. Even though I’ve kind of… kind of felt like it was. For a long time. Too long. When I… when I should have been not doing that.”

“Cas, I… I love you.” The bombshell explodes without prompt, Sam nearly losing the rest of Dean’s voicemail in the whistling fallout. “I don’t really say it and when I do, I… it comes out all wrong. Because you look sad afterwards like I don’t mean it the way you think I do. But I do. I love you in the purest sense of the word, man. For so long I’ve been afraid of you knowing that and of… of loving you, but I shouldn’t be. If I’d said all this sooner I… maybe you wouldn’t have left. Or it would have hurt more when you did. Don’t know how it can hurt more than it is now… I already feel like there’s a crater in my chest because when you moved on you took my heart with you. Even though I tried to not let that happen. Thought that us, everything that happened was because of Chuck because you’re his kid and… you have to admit, it’s a hell of a story…” A wet chuckle rasps over the line, followed by a labored breath. “S’why I kept you an arm’s length away during the ghost-pocalypse. Why I’ve been struggling since then I… I don’t know what’s real and what’s your Dad. Figured I could sort my life out but Chuck putting himself back on the board sent my already shaky sense of self into a tailspin.”

“But him being back also… I think I’ve gotten a sense of how he writes us. On what he forced on us. Everything he ever wrote has been about bringing the maximum amount of pain. All geared towards driving our family apart. Every cruel act and lie and whisper into my head to do the wrong thing were him. And of that list, Cas… you’re none of those things. You make us whole - make me whole. That… Chuck doesn’t want that. The fact we keep finding each other after all we’ve been through, what tries to keep us apart, from demons to God, that’s all the proof I need that we’re it for each other. We… we’re real. ”

“And I let Chuck feed me a crock of shit and I spiraled. Been spiraling since mom died and Jack… I, I can’t blame Chuck for all of it, though I’d loved to. He threw all of that at me and I swung exactly like he planned. I’m sorry, Cas, for not treating you the way you deserve. Showing you exactly what you mean to me. I can’t change the past but I want to fix the future, so you’ll be in it. It might be too little too late… and for once we can’t make all the pieces fit like they used to. Knowing that, I don’t regret telling you I love you. Because if we’re gonna be able to beat Chuck, we need all of us together. Working as a unit. A family. I won’t be much help to anyone if I can’t be in the same room with you, choking on all these feelings. After he’s gone, if you still want to move on… I won’t blame you. All we’ve been through, you deserve happiness the same as us. If it’s with someone else… then they’re a right lucky bastard or bitch, whoever they are. So… yeah, that’s it. I’m gonna, I’m gonna hang up? Yeah, bye -”

It cuts off, the answering machine’s voice speaking over Dean’s about how there’s no more room left on Cas’s phone for the rest of his message. Not that it matters since everything that was supposed to be said found its way out of Dean’s mouth.

Sam wipes at his eyes, smiling at the phone. Chest filled with happiness for two of the most important people in his life. That they were able to wade through the never-ending flood and reunite again. Cards laid fully on the table, nothing in their hands.

With a little help. The voodoo’s vacant stare flashes in Sam’s mind, reminding him of how he whispered into it to bring about this confession. His stomach churns at the thought. The guild he swallowed down returning with a vengeance. But then it all settles as he considers his exact command.

Worded with no intention of romance, Sam wanted Dean to grow up and realize Cas held no fault in what went down with Chuck. But his brother went the extra measure, shoveling part of his repressed, forty-year old bullshit into the furnace as a grand gesture to show his angel that there was more than one endgame to be had.

Laughing, Sam places the phone down and stands. “Dean and Cas…” he says, years of memories coloring themselves anew given the necessary context. “How could I’ve been so blind…” He squints, lips thinning. “Chuck… that’s why.”

He flattens his palm against his wound, the skin dully flaring giving Sam the impression that his nightmares will be extra bloody tonight. “At least one of us will have sweet dreams,” he sighs, shuffling to his room.

Sleep is far from his mind, especially given what awaits him when his head hits the pillow, but Sam walks with purpose. To tie up the last loose end of this misadventure.

The voodoo doll hadn’t moved since he used it last. Resting against a well-worn spell book, awake. Sam picks it up and pinches the thread tying it together.

“Nothing’s ever going to control our lives again, Chuck… you hear me?”

The string stays where it was, the doll still whole. Sam rubs it between his thumb and finger, wickedness striking in the final hour before the doll’s demise. An impish grin unfurls across his face. “After this,” he amends, “After tonight… I already helped Dean make one healthy choice, who’s to say I can’t suggest a few others.”

Sam replaces the doll in his hand with the spell book, reclining on his bed to wait. Reads until the clock ticks closer to midnight and then beyond. When his eyes can barely hold themselves open any longer and the neon green numbers glow in single digits, Sam grabs the voodoo doll of his brother once more. Whispers the prank in a scratchy voice, mirth poking through. Finished, he sets both items down and readies for bed.

Looking forward to sleep and what awaits him in the morning.

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Sam stretches on his path to the Bunker’s exit, readying for another late morning jog. A road block appears, however, in the form of his brother in similar dress. Yellow hoodie snug over his chest and a pair of sweatpants with dried stains by the pockets. Sneakers Sam wasn’t sure Dean owned tied tight over his feet. “Dean?” he starts, “you going out?”

“Hey,” Dean says, eyes brightening, “I’m glad I caught you.”

“You are?”

“Yeah…” His brother rubs at his neck awkwardly, a ketchup-colored blush staining his cheeks, complimenting his mustard hoodie. “Yeah, I… I wanted to see if you’d let me come jogging with you?”

“You… want to go jogging?” A question not really framed like one. Sam already knowing the answer.

Dean nods, “Yeah, I… I don’t know. Last night, Cas and I had this talk about unhealthy habits and what I could do to stop them. When I woke up I… I guess it bled into other aspects of my life, because I couldn’t get the idea of jogging out of my head!” He chuckles, dipping up to gaze at Sam for a brief moment. “Weird, right?”

Sam finds it the exact opposite. Because after giving his brother and angel a few hours of privacy, he snatched the Dean voodoo doll from his nightstand and whispered a few things to it. Incepted the idea of wanting to jog with him into his mind. Still he agrees, since Sam didn’t expect there to be a logical narrative supporting his prank. “You’re always welcome to jog with me, Dean,” he says.

“Perfect.” They continue their trek, Dean mirroring Sam’s stretches with a few second-delay.

At the foot of the stairs, Sam stops them again. “Wait, did Cas want to join us?”

Dean shakes his head, giving Sam hope his other message wormed its way in. “Sent him out on a grocery run. Had the strangest craving for, uh… veggie bacon.”

“Veggie bacon?” Sam gasps, “In the Meat Man’s kitchen?”

“Shut up.” Dean shoves him, stomping up the steps, “That was so dumb… regret ever telling you that.”

Sam follows with a doggish grin, “At least you realize it now!” Dean flips him off, exiting the Bunker. He watches the door slip close, trailing behind at his own pace.

His brother’s voodoo doll sits in his hoodie pocket, weighing him down. While Sam’s actions were only to Dean’s benefit or boyish pranks, thinking about what he did still makes his skin crawl. His gunshot tingles with a whirlpool of energy. A reminder that he acted somewhat like the very being they want to take down.

“But that was it,” Sam promises, “After breakfast I’ll explain to Dean what I did.” An argument might occur, and he will accept whatever words Dean will throw his way. It won’t be a huge blow up, Sam thinks, since Cas is there. Cas is there and it’s because of Dean. Sam prompted his brother but in no way did he imagine the voicemail Dean would leave. The feelings that he poured into his message. That was all him. Like they’ve done their whole lives, they’ve taken what they were given and fit the rules around them. No matter who tries to break their team apart the three of them come back together stronger.

“Sammy!” Dean calls for him, “You tired? We haven’t even started, man!”

He chuckles, leaving the Bunker. “Says the man who is jogging for the first time today.”

“It can’t be that hard.”

Sam smirks at him, “Just be lucky it’s cold out.”

“Why?”

“Because when the weather’s warm I like to jog barefoot.”

The implicit threat goes over Dean’s head, stranding him in his confusion. “... Why ?”

“Y’know,” Sam claps Dean on the shoulder, “If you decide you want to stick with this after today… I can show you.”

Dean huffs with a familiar grumpy expression, although a twinkle of curiosity glistens in his stare. “Maybe,” he says, “Let’s see how this first jog goes.”

“Your call, man. Your call.” They run, Sam leading ahead of Dean. Not going too fast so he can stay with Dean. Out of breath, bouncing, and at points - between light-hearted jabs shared between brothers - soaring .

#Supernatural #Spn #Spn15 #15x06 #Golden Time #Coda #Supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural coda #spn fanfic #Sam Winchester #Witch!Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Destiel #deancas #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfic

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samclownchester · 4 years

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Supernatural Rewatch 01x06

Skin

(Next Episode | Masterlist | Previous Episode)

So we start out with Sam and Dean talking about Sam’s attempts at maintaining contact with his college friends.

Dean: So you lie to them? Sam: No, I just don’t tell them everything Dean: Yeah, that’s called lying.

Interesting … considering how Dean reacts to being lied to in later seasons, it is interesting to note that he kind of has this black and white view of it while Sam is more comfortable telling people what they are comfortable hearing (look back at 01x01 and their different reactions to their dad letting them know about monsters at a very early age) Dean doesn’t like half-truths, even for other’s protections. (Not that he never lies throughout the series, this is another good idea for analysis)

Sam: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? You’re serious? Dean: Look it sucks but, a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

This episode we get to see more of Sam’s focus on people he cares about.

Did Sam really just ask his friend Becky to make them sandwiches?? Wow. (I know that this was to get her out of the room, but this was before “make me a sandwich” became such a big meme. It’s extra funny that they do it again in season 15 (When Deans asks the woman to leave so he can confront the Djinn) but they’re much more self-aware about it)

Dean: “One thing I learned from Dad, not matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there is one sure way to kill it”

Sam: “silver bullet to the heart”

So they have dealt with Shapeshifters before, or at least Dean has. But maybe it was a different kind? One that didn’t shed the way this one does?

Dean: I hate to say it, but this is exactly what I’m talking about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they’d be freaked.

(file under – the queer coding of Sam Winchester)

Ok, I don’t know how much we can rely on the Shifter’s words about how Dean feels but, assuming we can;

Shifter!Dean: You got to go to college … I had to stay home with Dad, you don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me, where the hell where you? … deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends; you could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak, and sooner or later everybody’s gonna leave me. … You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me too and he left me too. No explanation, nothing just – left me with your sorry ass.

So, this tells us that Dean did have dreams of his own, that he’s thought about a life away from hunting (contrary to what he tells Lilith in Season 15). It’s also interesting because we usually see the word “freak” applied to Sam, when he realizes he’s psychic, when he gets addicted to demon blood, later when he is defending Jack. But here we see that Dean feels like a freak in his own way. He knows that he can never have a normal life, never be seen as normal by other people, so he doesn’t even try. Sam tries to have friends, tries to give them the portions of himself that they can handle, but Dean knows nobody in the normal world will be able to understand him – how he grew up, what he’s been through – so he doesn’t let anyone get too close.

In 15x07 we learn that Dean did have friends in his 20’s. Hunter friends, but still friends. He hunted with Lee while Sam was in college. So why do we never hear about him? Why doesn’t Dean call him up sometimes, or fondly remember him? (well, realistically because the writers didn’t invent Lee until they wrote season 15) But, there’s a canon reason too. Dean mentions that he thought Lee had died by the time he sees him in 2020. He obviously cared about Lee, enjoyed spending time with him, but he didn’t make the effort to stay in contact, to find out if his friend had lived or died, most likely because he was afraid of losing him. It’s easier to walk away from people than have them walk away from you. In this episode (1x06) we see Dean chooses to stay disconnected from people around him.

Sam needs people, so he adjusts himself to their expectations and their comfort, but Dean would rather have no connection than a partial one, or one that will inevitably end in hurt.

“you mean like a Vulcan mind meld?” (Ok, so Dean canonically watched Star Trek, at least enough to immediately think of this reference. good to know. For reasons) “maybe he needs to keep us alive, for the psychic connection” (Ok, maybe never mind about the shapeshifter in season 13, I don’t know if she would be able to get the thoughts of the deceased loved ones. )

“maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else.”

Ok, so this line is said by the shifter, as Dean, about the shifter, but I want to talk about how it applies to Sam. Sam Winchester is born human, but he has demon blood. We learn in season 8 that, although he didn’t know about the demon blood or about his psychic abilities until his 20’s, as a child he felt that he was “not clean.” Not only is raised to fight and kill monsters, very unlike a normal kid, he also has this intrinsic sense of … wrongness. Additionally, he has never been encouraged by his father to be himself or to pursue his own interests. He likely doesn’t believe that anything about who he is is good or worth anything. So, he learns to be something else. He goes to college and tries to leave his entire life behind him. He doesn’t open up about his real life to anyone, not even his girlfriend. He tries to adapt. Fit in, even though he doesn’t fit. Then he goes hunting with Dean, but he won’t tell Dean about his visions, he doesn’t open up to him. He dutifully plays the role of little brother, and hides anything that could cause Dean worry or pain. We see this repeat throughout the seasons, Sam adapting, tucking away parts of himself, letting go of his opinions, his views on things, letting Dean be right. The one time when he doesn’t do this is with Jack. He sees himself in Jack, a scared little boy who is so afraid of being evil, and he can’t watch what happened to him happen to somebody else. He has to step in, speak up on Jack’s behalf. He CAN’T tuck his feelings away this time, because it’s not himself on the line. He doesn’t often stand up for himself, but he will stand up for other people.

Shifter: All alone, close to no one. All he wants is somebody to love him. He’s like me

Rebecca’s eyes: *THE F*** IS THIS GUY SERIOUS*

SAME Rebecca SAME

EUGH I forgot how gross shifting was.

Ok, well Dean is officially a wanted man. Wow, to go from a few torture/murders to attempting to assassinate the president. He really has beefed up his resume.

The Samulet!! Weird that the shifter took that from Dean and wasn’t able to replicate it … O.O That’s such a good little detail to let us know that it’s important.

Oh, so now Rebecca knows the truth about Sam.

Rebecca: “Will you call us sometime?” Sam: “It might not be for a little while.”

(and she was never heard from again … I imagine because Sam started to realize that Dean was right. It’s easier to stay away from connections. This is also probably a part of his growing guilt, and fear that anyone close to him will be hurt. It is interesting to think … now that she knows the truth and the fake version of him no longer exists in her mind, he doesn’t try to maintain the relationship?)

DEAN: Sorry, man.

SAM: About what?

DEAN: I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be….Joe College.

SAM: No, that’s okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in.

DEAN: Well, that’s ‘cause you’re a freak.

SAM: Yeah, thanks.

DEAN: Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way. (SAM laughs.)

SAM: Yeah, I know you are.

I know Dean means this as a playful joke, but it’s the first time we see Sam being referred to as “a freak” which will occur much more after this.

#supernatural #supernatural rewatch #01x06 #1x06 #1x6 #skin #shapshifter #dean winchester #sam winchester #character analysis #sam is a freak #I love him so much someone protect him

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brittywritesstuff · 5 years

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what have i done with my heart on the floor

Warnings: Language, angst, vague mention(ish) of sex

Fandom: Supernatural (Dean x Cas)

Word Count: 1455

Summary: Litost [Lee-toast]: “a state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery.”

Author’s Note: Y’all, it’s been A MINUTE since I’ve written DeanCas. Since I’ve written any fanfic, really. I’m sorry -- I’ve been buried in furiously working on original content. I know I’m rusty, but I was inspired to brush off this fic I started after 14x12. Please enjoy. [also, @deanmonsandangels I love you boo, thanks for being my cheerleader]

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Swallow my soul, dragging me down. And there’s blood on the covers from the curses we utter to each other, you played your part… and this love like a hole swallow my soul, dragging me down and I swear I’d stay with you but I just can’t forgive you and I’ll never be whole again...

Let’s go home. It’s a loaded statement. It always is with Dean. He knows it, Sam knows it, and Cas sure as hell knows it. When Dean glances in the rearview mirror and meets Cas’s eyes, there’s a silent understanding. To each other, the other is home. There’s an anger in Cas’s gaze, muddled behind pain and fear and love. Anger that Dean would so readily leave him behind. Again. But that’s the way of their relationship, isn’t it? Ten years of this vicious cycle. Self-hatred… unending loyalty… and crushing, soul-deep love. It’s the signature song and dance of Dean and Cas.

If Sam notices the looks, he doesn’t say anything. For that, Dean is grateful.

The squeaking of the Impala’s doors closing echoes through the garage, and Dean sighs heavily. He feels Cas’s eyes on him, even as he looks up at Sam, who’s watching him carefully. Like he’s afraid as soon as he turns his back, Dean’s going to take off again. “I’m good,” he says, holding up a hand. “We’re good.”

Sam thinks on it a moment, then nods with a tight-lipped smile. Dean can see the sadness and fear etched into the tired lines of his face, and he feels the weight of sadness. He wishes he could take that away. He wishes his little brother hadn’t been dealt such a shit hand in life. But this is it. This is their life, and there’s no way around it.

“Okay,” Sam says. “Okay. But, uh, I’m beat. So…”

“Go.” Dean nods toward the stairs. “I’m fine. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He watches as Sam hesitates, then finally retreats with his bag slung over his shoulder. Dean grabs his own and heads for the stairs, Cas on his heels. He drops it on his bed as Cas closes the door, and Dean exhales slowly. He doesn’t turn to look at the angel; he’s not sure he wants to face that disappointment head-on.

“Dean…”

“Cas, I’m sorry.” His voice is strained and soft in the quiet solitude of his bedroom. Cas doesn’t speak, nor does Dean turn around. He hears rustling behind him, and feels Cas as he moves closer.

“Dean, look at me.”

Cas’s hand settles on his shoulder, and Dean swallows. Finally, he turns to meet Cas’s eyes. The angel’s jackets are draped over the back of Dean’s desk chair, and that perpetually crooked blue tie hangs loose against the bright white shirt. It’s moments like this; moments of casual intimacy that makes Dean’s heart ache with love. Cas doesn’t let his guard down like this for anyone but Dean. It’s too much, and Dean breaks, sinking to the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do, Cas. I don’t… I promised Sammy. I promised you—“

Cas’s hands settle on his wrists, and he drops his hands to find Cas knelt in front of him. “Dean, look at me.” Cas’s hands find his face, his thumbs brushing his cheeks. “It’s alright. It will be alright. We will find a way. Together. I won’t-- I can’t lose you. You mean too much to me.”

“Ain’t no way outta this one, Cas.”

His words seem to spark a fierce resolve in Cas, and the muscle in Cas’s jaw twitches. “Yes, there is. There always is. I believed it years ago, and I believe it now.”

Dean licks his lips and sucks in a breath, leaning forward as Cas presses their foreheads together. “Why?” he gasps, holding back tears.

“You are worth it, Dean Winchester.” Cas’s breath is warm on his face; his fingers buried in his hair. “I didn’t simply save you because God commanded it. I saved you because I saw your soul. I saw its worth. I saw you.” The words take Dean’s breath away, and the tears break free, rolling down his cheeks. Cas’s thumbs brush them away as he grasps Dean’s face. “I always see you.”

Dean can’t find words. He’s never been good with words, and now, especially… he finds none. He isn’t worth of this, he thinks. He isn’t worthy of an angel’s love, let alone this angel’s love. Cas always sees Dean, always loves him, but how has Dean repaid him over the years? By kicking him out when Cas needed him most. By not realizing Lucifer had possessed him. By letting his own blind anger get in the way when it truly mattered. By often-misguided rage he never knew how to control. “I’m not, Cas,” he cries. He sniffs and breaths in deep. “I’m not worth it. I’m not worth any of this. You shoulda let me go. You ‘n’ Sammy, you shoulda just--”

Cas tightens his grip on Dean’s face and forces him to look up. “Listen to me, Dean. I will never let go of you. For as long as I exist, I will never let go of you. You mean more to me than anything ever has. Don’t you see that? I love you, Dean. You cannot ask me to let you go. That’s not fair.”

“This isn’t fair, Cas. None of this is fair.” Dean works himself out of Cas’s grip and steps away, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Don’t you see?” he shouts, doing little to stop the tears now freely streaming. “I destroy everything, Cas! Everyone I’ve ever fuckin’ loved… I destroy them.” He jabbed a hand in Cas’s direction. “That—that angel, whatever the fuck her name was, she was right! The moment you laid your fuckin’ hand on me, Cas, you were lost! I’ve never been good for you!” He drops his head, practically sobbing.

Cas advances on him, and Dean stumbles back against his dresser. “You and I both have blood on our hands. Often we spill each other’s. We have both done unspeakable things. But Hester was wrong, Dean. The moment my hand touched you, I was not lost. I was found.”

“Cas—“

“I am here by your side until the end of time. I will stay with you, no matter what you choose to believe about yourself. If you left, if you chose to die for the sake of sacrifice, I would never be whole again, Dean. You are what makes me whole.”

Though Cas’s face is mere millimeters from his own, Dean can hardly see through his tears. His heart aches, and his stomach is in knots. He simultaneously wants to end it all and wants to hold Cas in his arms and never let go. He settles for kissing him. It’s hard and heated and sloppy, but it’s everything he wants in the moment.

His movements are heavy-handed and a little too forceful, but they fall into bed mostly unclothed, and desperately rid themselves of the rest. They move together until they break, and after, as the sweat dries on their skin, Dean’s sheet haphazardly tossed over their waists, Dean stares at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the cement. “I don’t believe you,” he breathes.

Beside him, he hears Cas shift. The bed dips, and he feels Cas’s hair brush his arm. Turning his head, he finds Cas perched on his elbow, watching him intently. “What do you mean?”

Dean licks his lips, tasting Cas and the salt of his own sweat. He’s silent for a moment, and he shifts to settle a hand behind his head. “That I’m worth it. That you’re better off with me. I’m like a pit, Cas. And lovin’ me… it just swallows people whole and drags ‘em down.” He sniffs as tears well in his eyes again, and he can’t bring himself to look away from Cas’s beautiful face, illuminated only by the soft light of the lamp on Dean’s desk.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice is rougher than usual. Dean can hear it. Hell, he can practically feel it. It’s wavering and full of emotion. And Christ, it breaks Dean’s heart. “I’ve been in a pit. The pit. For you. I dragged you out of it. If loving you puts me there again, then so be it. That’s where I’ll remain. I would lay siege on Hell again and again for the remainder of my existence because even the briefest glimpses of this love… it’s worth it. Because loving you — being loved by you, Dean Winchester will be , and always has been, worth more than Heaven, Hell, and all of the cosmos.”

#destiel #deancas #destiel angst #deancas angst #supernatural #dean x castiel #Dean and Castiel #spn #otp: i need you #otp: a more profound bond #s14e12 #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fic #deancas fic #my writing #britty writes stuff

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amwritingmeta · 5 years

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I JUST WANNA GUSH ABT HOW CUTE DEAN AND CAS LOOKED NEXT TO EACHOTHER WHEN THEY WERE TALKING TO DONATELLO!!

Dude, tell me about it!! I’LL GUSH WITH YOU MOST HAPPILY!!

Here’s what’s more –> I’m so fucking delighted with how they framed them in that scene, together and conspiratorial, because look it:

Dean tells Sam at the end of 14x11 that Sam is the only person he couldn’t tell because Sam’s the only person who could talk him out of it, yeah?

Then 14x12 opens with Sam calling Dean out on how he’s not even told Cas and Jack yet. (note how they’re conveniently bundled together, the same way Cas and Mary were btw, while Cas is the only one making an appearance in this episode) (mh hmh I would say that matters here)

Dean says he’s not good with the big goodbyes and that he doesn’t need to get shaky on this thing.

So. Dean couldn’t be around Sam because Sam’s the only one who can change his mind, huh? (not buying)

Now Dean talks to Cas, finding out that Sam’s spilled the beans, Dean refusing to have A Conversation with Cas, dismissing him. (though the word good appears five times between them, but that could just be a funny coincidence)

Then Cas - off screen - makes the decision that he has to go have that conversation with Dean in person and also that he should have it dressed as a doctor.

Honestly, the dressing up could be chalked up to Cas knowing exactly how much Dean enjoys that side of life and Cas going Look At This Remember The Fun Stuff You Don’t Want to Give This Up, while all Dean is thinking is fuck, I don’t wanna give you up. I mean you could draw chalk around that notion, if you wanted to. :)

Cas has come specifically to see Dean. If there’d been no Donatello and no situation in need of handling, Cas would still have been there to have this conversation. The conversation just happens to be had in the middle of a situation.

And Dean tries to charm his way out of it, putting on a smile, trying to keep the mood light - a direct callback to the Gas ‘n Sip scene with Steve btw - and Cas will have none of it, which makes Dean push the If You’re My Friend button.

A button that hasn’t really existed for the past five or so years, because Cas isn’t just a friend, and he doesn’t want to be just a friend.

So Cas counters, and I all I can see is the undertone there of Cas knowing exactly how Dean feels about goodbyes and exactly why Dean’s been avoiding him and he’s not backing down, because Dean’s running away from him (the same way he’s been running a lot this season) and if this is what Dean’s choosing to do, if he’s choosing to go through with this final plan to run away and deal with nothing and face nothing, then he’s going to have to say goodbye first.

It’s like Cas needs to know if Dean can say goodbye to him, because if Dean can, then all the things that Cas has been waiting for, all the feelings I believe it’s canonically viable that Cas has sensed in Dean, have all been in Cas’ head.

If Dean can say goodbye, then Cas will too. He’ll support Dean’s decision. He’ll be Dean’s friend in this. But if Dean can’t…

And hey, Dean doesn’t. Does he?

And it looks like Cas is about to kiss him, right? I mean, we all reacted to that pause between them and that almost taking a step forward from Cas, before darling Moose comes out and interrupts them, right?

*horses held* *but it’s very very lovely*

Now, what do we get?

WE GET THE NEED TO GUSH is what we get. :P

Because all of these moments ^^^ lead into Cas performing a miracle (which technically isn’t a miracle because if Donatello’s mind wasn’t struggling to right itself, then Cas wouldn’t have been able to restore him) (it’s more like teamwork) :P that leaves Cas and Dean framed shoulder to shoulder, yeah?

And we get one of the most intimate shots of them both in frame that we’ve gotten in a very, very, very long time, where Dean can’t even look Cas in the eye and the tension could be cut with a knife and that one foot of space that separates them seems to just urge them to fucking lean in already. Yes? I mean, it’s beautiful!

It’s beautiful because of all these moments in this episode that have come before. It’s beautiful because it leaves you aware that Dean can’t look at Cas while Cas looks at Dean, and it makes you wonder what would happen if Dean actually did look at him. And, oh, it is gorgeous because of how quiet it is.

After avoiding Cas, and stating he doesn’t want to have a conversation with Cas, and then having to have that conversation with Cas, ending exactly how he feared it would: an inability to say goodbye, Dean is now framed together with Cas. Keeping himself away from Cas for two episodes has landed Dean right here, next to him, murmuring things to each other, and perhaps with Dean’s reluctant faith that miracles do happen beginning to shake the dust off…

And with this newfound shakiness all over he goes out to see Sam, and that scene with Sam is a whole other ballgame and I’m not deconstructing it here, but oh Sam, of course his meltdown is the needed push for Dean to relent.

I honestly don’t know if I believe that he’s entirely there yet. That he 100% believes they can do it. But the fact that he’s willing to bend to their will - I would say consciously deciding to do so for their sake, but subconsciously absolutely doing it for his own sake, because deep deep deep deep deep deep down, he doesn’t want this for himself - is enough, yeah? Damn, I’m so curious about the 300th! GAH!!

Sorry, I’ve really loved this last run of episodes and obviously I tend to blab when I love things. :D Thanks for gushing!!!

#answered asks #deancas #spn 14x12 #GUSH GALORE!#:P

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vvivacious101 · 4 years

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Re-rewatching S06E06 - You Can’t Handle the Truth

There's a LOT going on this episode and I’m not even talking about the case.

A girl in her bid to find the truth summons Veritas, the goddess of Truth and now anyone in town who asks for the truth gets slammed with it till they ultimately commit suicide.

Unknowingly, Dean invokes Veritas and now he is getting slammed with the truth. Well atleast in theory.

With every episode it has become more and more obvious that there is something wrong with Sam. Given the events of the last episode, Dean believes that Sam let him be turned into a vampire and he believes that Sam isn’t Sam but a monster. So he uses his newfound ability to find the truth from Sam but what he hears reassures him and he starts to believe that he might have been taking things out of context. But, at the end of the episode when both Sam and Dean find themselves tied up in Veritas’ dissection hall, the goddess reveals that Sam is lying to her and she gets really worked up about this, giving Sam and Dean enough time to kill her but when Dean’s done with Veritas, he comes after Sam.

This is when Sam decides to reveal the fact that he knows there is something wrong with him and he has known it for some time but he doesn’t know what it is. Dean hears Sam out and puts down his weapon but then proceeds to punch the hell out of Sam.

I found this a little uncalled for, it seemed that Dean took Sam’s supposed betrayal, his worries about Sam and his recent breakup with Lisa and just pointed it at a punching bag. There is more truth to that anger inside him than I realised. Apparently, the anger inside him that comes from him shoving down all his fears and his feelings deep inside has history on the show.

Dean calls Lisa but she doesn’t answer when she eventually does return the call, Dean has already invoked the truth and therefore Lisa gives it to him straight. She tells him that he shoved Ben and she realised that they could no longer continue their relationship the moment Sam got back. Because Dean and Sam have the “most unhealthy, tangled up, crazy thing I’ve ever seen”. Lisa’s words not mine.

Dean and Lisa’s relationship is the one thing that is tripping me the most in this rewatch and I can’t believe I missed so much of this. So let’s recap, we see Lisa and Dean in 6x01 - "Exile on Main St." in which they don’t seem to spend any significant moments together and then we go to 6x02 - "Two and Half Men" when Dean is just scaring Lisa with his over the top protective behaviour. In the very first episode, we have Dean try to finish things off but he stays in part because of what Lisa says to him about being in this together and partly because he wants to protect Lisa and Ben. In the second one, we have Dean deciding to go off with Sam when Lisa tells him he doesn’t need to choose between them and Sam, he can have both.

Shift to 6x05 - "Live Free or Twi-hard" where Dean gets turned into a vamp and makes his way to Lisa’s to say a final goodbye before what he believes to be his funeral when he comes face to face with Ben. In a bid to protect Ben, he shoves him into the opposite wall which is what brings them to the present with Lisa breaking up with Dean over the same. The other things that she mentions were just pots simmering in the background but it was the way Dean handled Ben that forces Lisa’s hand.

What I found interesting is that Dean doesn’t even try to explain. he can but he doesn’t maybe because he believes it would be better if they just cut their losses before things get more messy. He realises there is something up with Sam and the scene with Lisa takes place just before Sam manages to temporarily reassure Dean, so he thinks he has his hand’s full and he already feels that he wrecked Lisa and Ben’s life so he doesn’t bother to explain because he agrees with Lisa on this. Now, Dean probably does this out of love.

In his head, Lisa and Ben are better without him but the fact that he doesn’t even protest or try to explain makes it clear that this is the only way he sees this going. He doesn’t believe they can continue their relationship and he doesn’t see a future with Lisa so doesn't even try to change her mind. It isn’t about Dean not loving Lisa which he hasn’t ever verbalized but at the very least we know he cares deeply, it’s just that he doesn’t see this thing with Lisa in his future. That probably has a lot to do with the codependency Lisa mentioned.

His life with Ben and Lisa can only exist in a world without Sam and not in a world with Sam, I know what this says about Sam and Dean's relationship but the interesting thing is what ot says about Lisa and Dean's. It appears that Lisa and Dean only work when a certain set of parameters are met when the ground conditions aren't met their relationship crashes. The worst part is that one of those ground conditions is that Dean not have any contact with his former life, this is definitely not the ideal relationship for Dean or Lisa for that matter.

We have Cas show up in this episode which was unexpected for me but man there is a world of pain in his eyes.

I'm at War. Certain regretable things are now required of me.

I feel like this is a very literal statement. Cas is at war and he isn't talking about the war in Heaven. I think these are the chinks in his armour that is wearing down in the presence of Dean. He is lying to him and deliberately keeping his distance. Almost like he is scared he won't be able to maintain the front if he gets to close. This early in the season it's easy to pick these moments up because once Cas gets caught up in the righteousness of his admittedly poor decisions, these moments will disappear.

Meanwhile, Dean is angry at Cas for not answering his prayers about Sam. If it wasn't obvious Dean's angry at pretty much everybody this episode. But, Cas is immediately contrite and offers an explanation.

If anyone forgot this is also the scene in which Cas pours a drink out for Dean while staring into his eyes.

A lot of this scene is unfortunately a launching pad to how bad this season is for Cas and Dean. Dean is angry and every time he expresses it Cas tries to fix it, to help, to try to make Dean happy. I mean I know Cas is in love with Dean but this is ridiculous.

Unfortunately, Dean's going to get angry a lot in the coming episodes and Cas is going to try to fix things for Dean. A lot.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural season 6 #spn 6x06 #you can't handle the truth #sam #dean #cas #lisa #myposts #spn rewatch

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beatlejuice64 · 5 years

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Destiel Season 11: A catalog of Supernatural episodes

A catalog of each episode in Supernatural that features scenes related to Destiel. This includes scenes between Dean and Castiel, scenes with other characters that address their relationship with each other, and scenes that allude to Dean’s bisexuality.

Season 11 Summary Analysis

Cas experiences intense PTSD after being brutally beaten by Dean (who was influenced by the Mark of Cain) and after brutally beating up Dean (while under Rowena’s spell). Dean feels more and more drawn to Amara over the course of the season, and it makes him uncomfortable. Cas lets Lucifer possess him in a last-ditch effort to help defeat Amara. Dean tries to save Cas from Lucifer’s possession but fails, and he obsessively searches for him when he’s taken by Amara. Dean is relieved when Castiel resurfaces and tells Cas he’s the best friend he’s ever had.

My interpretation: Dean feels intense guilt for brutally attacking Cas at the end of the previous season, and Cas feels the same guilt after beating up Dean while spellbound. Cas feels useless while he’s paralyzed by PTSD, and he lets Lucifer possess him out of a sense of desperation to be helpful—he sees self-sacrifice as the best option because he can’t face the possibility of hurting Dean again. Dean is incredulous that Cas would let Lucifer posses him willingly—at first, he can’t believe it because he believes so staunchly in Castiel’s goodness. Dean tries hard to save Cas from Lucifer’s possession because he can’t stand seeing the man he cares for behaving like the Devil, and he‘s not willing to risk Castiel’s life for the greater good. Dean’s attraction to Amara freaks him out, partially because he doesn’t want it to interfere with his closeness to Cas. Experiencing Castiel’s absence for an extended period of time helps Dean see how much he values Castiel’s company, and he feels bad for not being there for Cas earlier in the season when he was struggling with trauma. Dean makes sure to tell Cas how he feels after Lucifer is expelled from him. Cas is touched by Dean’s sentiment, knowing how rare it is for Dean to let others get close to him. Cas appreciates Dean calling him a friend and brother, knowing that brotherhood is the highest compliment Dean can give to someone. As Dean is gearing up to sacrifice himself to defeat Amara, Cas is distraught and does not want to leave Dean’s side.

11.01 Out of the Darkness, Into the Fire

When Cas calls Dean, he urgently wants to know whether the Mark of Cain has been removed from Dean.

11.02 Form and Void

Castiel’s angel torturers recognize his consistent prioritization of the Winchesters over heaven: “What are you?” “What? I’m an angel of the Lord.” “That so? ‘Cause near as I can tell, when you have to choose between heaven and the Winchesters, you choose them. Every time.”

Cas refuses to give Sam and Dean up to the angels, even to Hannah.

11.03 The Bad Seed

Dean and Sam try everything they can to find Rowena to help cure the spell she put on Cas.

When Sam insults Castiel’s car, he’s offended. Dean tries to make him feel better: “You think it’s crappy?” “Eye of the beholder.”

After Cas feints, Dean puts him back in his chair and wraps him in a blanket.

Dean is able to help Cas resist his compulsion to kill a someone while under Rowena’s spell.

Cas starts seizing when Rowena lifts the spell, and Dean cradles Castiel’s head in his hands.

Cas apologizes to Dean for beating him up while under the spell: “Dean, I... there aren’t words.” “You’re right. There aren’t words, Cas, ‘cause there’s no need. You were under a spell. It’s fine.”

Dean declines Castiel’s offer to heal him because he feels bad for beating up Cas while under the Mark of Cain’s influence: “Dean, I can fix that.” “No, no no, it’s fine, Cas. Besides, I had it comin’.”

11.04 Baby

Sam asks Dean if he ever wishes he could have something more meaningful than a one night stand: “You don’t ever want something more?” “I’m sorry, have you met us? We’re battin’ a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs.” “You don’t ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever, but something? You know, with a hunter, somebody who understands the life?” “Have you not heard a single word Bob’s been singin’ about?“

11.06 Our Little World

Dean tries to keep Cas out of the hunting scene out of sense of protectiveness: “Oh, what? You think he’s ready? He’s had a pretty rough go of it lately.” “Which one of us hasn’t? Seems insane to leave our one and only angel friend on the bench.”

Dean shows concern for Castiel’s mental health when he finds out he’s been binge-watching tv: “You sound weird, okay? Bad weird. Now, I’ve been down that road before. I’ve heard the siren song from the idiot box, and I’m tellin’ you, whatever you’re lookin’ for, you won’t find it in there. So do me a favor—turn off the tv, go outside and get some air. We’re in the dark here, pal. I need you back in the game, okay?”

Castiel tries to follow Dean’s advice to get out of the bunker, but he can’t bring himself to do it because he’s traumatized by the violence and mind control he’s experienced recently. The two most prominent flashbacks he has are of him beating up Dean while spellbound and Dean beating him up when he had the Mark of Cain.

Sam jokes about Dean’s relationship with Crowley: “Oh, right. I keep forgetting about you and Crowley’s summer of love.”

Metatron recognizes Castiel’s trauma: “You have gone full wuss. Now, I dunno what it was that happened, but whatever it was, you are scarred deep, paralyzed by trauma, by fear. I mean, look at you. You can’t even hit me.”

Crowley brings up the closeness that occurred between him and Dean the previous season: “Do you know how disturbing it was to realize that I couldn’t bring myself to kill you? I’ve had tons of chances over the years, some you don’t even know about, but still, I made my peace with it, embraced my softer side, learned to accept that there was just too much going on between you and I—bromance.”

Dean lies about not killing Amara, and Cas looks skeptical about the truth of his claim: “You said you were close. Dean, how’d she get away?” “I’m sorry, what part of ‘God’s freakin’ sister’ did you not understand? She overpowered me. End of story.”

11.08 Just My Imagination

The flamboyance and expressiveness of the Zanna make Dean very uncomfortable. He has difficulty taking them seriously at first, but he later tells Sully that he and his kind are a “good weird.”

11.09 O Brother Where Art Thou?

Amara kisses Dean, and he kisses her back. Then he pulls back suddenly, weirded out by it. Amara says the two of them are “bonded” and that they belong together, but Dean rejects the idea.

11.10 The Devil in the Details

Cas gets up in Dean‘s grill to diagnose his smiting sickness, but Dean pushes him away when he offers to take Dean’s temperature with his finger.

Amara recognizes Castiel’s lingering trauma: “You think I’m afraid to die?” “I know you are. You reek of fear and self-loathing.”

Lucifer is on the verge of killing Dean, but Cas tackles him before he can. He then lets Lucifer possess him.

Dean checks on Cas after they leave hell to make sure he’s alright.

11.11 Into the Mystic

Dean confides in Cas (Lucifer) about his failure to kill Amara. Casifer asks Dean if he’s drawn to Amara out of attraction, and Dean admits to it: “I know, okay? Whatever it is—attraction, connection—I gotta tell ya, man, it scares me. I don’t know that I can stop it. I don’t know that I can resist it.”

While Lucifer is posing as Cas, he performs a high level of affection toward Dean.

Dean notices that there’s “something off” about Cas, but Sam doesn’t pick up on it.

Dean feels so disturbed about his feelings toward Amara that he can’t sleep.

11.13 Love Hurts

Dean is cursed with being hunted by a qareen who takes the form of its victim’s deepest darkest desire, and for Dean, it takes the form of Amara.

Sam helps Dean understand that he doesn’t have to feel guilty about his attraction: “It was Amara.” “That surprise you?” “That doesn’t surprise you?” “Honestly?” “Honestly. What, you seriously think the sister of God is my deepest, darkest desire?” “She isn’t?” “No! She can’t be.” “Why not?” “Why? Because if she was, then that means I’m...” “Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?” “For starters, yeah.” “Dean, do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She’s the sister of God, and for some reason, she picked you, and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you, I’m not.”

11.14 The Vessel

When Lucifer threatens to kill Sam, Cas resists his control, but he won’t eject Lucifer because they need him to bring Dean back from the past.

Dean refuses to believe that Cas would willingly let Lucifer possess him, even though Sam does: “Lucifer may be in control now, but Cas may not come back willingly. I mean, he chose it.” “No. No, not possible.”

11.15 Beyond the Mat

Dean is adamant about saving Cas from Lucifer, even though Sam isn’t convinced that’s what he wants: “...if he wants to be saved.” “He does. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

Dean feels extra “burnt” after finding out Lucifer is possessing Cas, so he takes Sam to a wrestling event.

Dean is disturbed by seeing a childhood icon sell his soul, and he doubles down on his determination to save Cas and win the day: “Dean, you know what? He made a bad decision. We’ve been there.” “Yeah. Yeah, you, me, now Cas.” “Dean, we’ll get him back. We will. We just gotta...” “Keep grindin’. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you gotta keep grindin’.” “Right.” “And that’s how we’re gonna win. And we’re gonna win. We’re gonna save Cas, we’re gonna ice the devil, and we’re gonna shank the darkness. And anyone that gets in our way, well, God help ‘em.”

11.17 Red Meat

When Sam presents a case possibility and Dean doesn’t want to go, Sam recognizes that Dean is obsessing over finding a way to save Cas: “We’ll get him back.” “How?” “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. Meantime, we gotta get outta here, clear our heads. This is a case. Let’s do what we do. Let’s work it.”

11.18 Hell’s Angel

Dean prioritizes Castiel’s safety when planning to take down Amara, but Sam disagrees with him: “Priority is to put the Horn in Lucifer’s hands and set him loose on Amara.” “After we exorcise Lucifer out of Cas and put him into a new vessel.” “What? Really?” “Yes, really. I’m not gonna send Lucifer into battle inside Cas. What if he doesn’t make it?” “Dean, it’s a strong vessel. It’s held Cas for years, and we know what he’s been through. I’m guessing it can hold Lucifer.” “It? It’s not an ‘it’, Sam. It’s Cas.” “And Cas wanted to do this.” “Yeah, well, there’s times I want to get slapped during sex by a girl wearin’ a Zorro mask. That don’t make it a good idea.” “Dean, this is exactly how we screw ourselves. We make the heart choice instead of the smart choice.” “Oh, okay. Thank you, Dr. Phil. Cas is family.” “Yes, and his choice deserves to be respected.” “Even if it kills him?”

Dean is distraught after failing his attempt to talk to Cas without Lucifer hearing. Dean is taken aback when Lucifer mocks him for yelling out for Cas.

When Crowley enters Castiel’s mind to convince him to expel Lucifer, Cas is only willing to consider it after realizing it’s what Dean wants: “Wait, that was Dean I saw a minute ago, wasn’t it?” “Yes.” “And he wants me to expel Lucifer?” “Yes!” “Well, he may have a more objective view of the situation. Maybe I should.”

Even after realizing that they can’t get Lucifer out of Cas, Dean still calls out to him before Amara leaves with Lucifer.

11.19 The Chitters

Sam is concerned about Dean losing sleep during his obsessive search to find Cas: “Dean, we’ll find Cas, okay? He’s stronger than he looks.” “You know, we gambled with Cas, and now Amara has him.” “For a reason, which means he’s still alive.” “I’ve been with Amara. Her beef is with the big guys—with God, with Lucifer. The small fries, even an angel like Cas, doesn’t even register. And if it meant hurting Lucifer, killing Cas would mean nothing to her.”

When Dean finds out the two hunters they’ve met are a romantic couple, he takes an interest: “What’s it like settling down with a hunter?” “Smelly, dirty. Twice the worrying about getting ganked.”

Dean is tempted to ask the couple to help them find Cas and defeat Amara, but he doesn’t have the heart to pull them out of retirement: “Two hunters who make it to the finish line?” “Yeah, you leave that alone.”

11.21 We Happy Few

Dean continues to worry about Cas while the gang is gearing up to take on Amara: “...After that, it’s Lucifer’s turn. Physical attack, one on one.” “What about Cas?” “Oh, don’t worry. Your pet’s safety is my highest concern. Trust me, he’s on board.”

11.22 Alpha and Omega

As soon as Amara leaves, Dean goes to check on Cas, and he’s relieved to see that Cas is himself again.

Dean recognizes Castiel’s distress and tries to make him feel better by telling him how much he values him: “How you doin’? Good? I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing...” “I was just SO stupid.” “No, no, no. It wasn’t stupid. You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun. Me and Sam wouldn’t have done that.” “Well, it didn’t work.” “No, but it was our best shot, and you stepped up.” “I WAS just trying to help.” “Well, and you DO help, Cas. You know, sometimes me and Sam have got so much goin’ on that we forget about everyone else.” “Well, you do live exciting lives.” “Yeah, that’s one word for it. But you’re always there, ya know? You’re the best friend we’ve ever had.” “You’re our brother, Cas. I want you to know that.” “Thank you.”

Cas is worried about Dean after Rowena puts the soul bomb inside of him: “Dean, are you okay? How do you feel?”

As Dean is getting ready to go sacrifice himself, Cas gives him a giant hug, and Dean hugs him back. Cas also offers to go with him. Dean demonstrates the trust he has in Cas by asking him to look out for Sam. Cas agrees, and Dean thanks him “for everything.”

Dean tries to be macho, but Sam calls bullshit on him: “No chick flick moments, come on.” “Yeah, you love chick flicks.” “Yeah, you’re right. I do. Come here.”

When the gang sees the sun getting brighter, Castiel’s first thought is whether Dean survived.

#destiel #dean x castiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #deancas

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waywardnerd67 · 5 years

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A Balanced Life: Chap. 3 - Parent Teacher Conference

Summary: Working a case with Sam goes longer than expected making Dean miss conferences with Sammi’s teachers. One teacher insists on meeting with him no matter the location or time. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Sammi Winchester (OFC), Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff/Slight Angst/AU Word Count: 2054 A/N: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Catch Up Here: A Balanced Life Masterlist

“Dad, you’re going to be back in time for parent, teacher conferences tonight, right?” Sammi asked over the phone as he was driving towards the haunted inn.

“Yes kiddo, we are going to salt and burn some bones then we will be back. Have a good day at school and please don’t punch anyone.” He said hearing her sigh.

“Love you dad.” She said.

Dean’s lips curled up into a wide smile, “Love you too, kiddo.” He hung up the phone just as they pulled up in front of the inn.

Eight hours, a few broken ribs and six spirits put to rest the Winchester brothers were on their way back to the Bunker. It was well past midnight when they arrived back and Sammi was asleep among her homework at one of the tables in the library. Castiel was also there with a scowl on his face.

“Cas, why didn’t you take her to her room?” Dean asked as he gathered his daughter into his arms as Sam cleaned up her homework.

“She wouldn’t let me because she was upset that you were not back for conferences.” Castiel’s voice was stern as Dean sighed deeply.

He carried Sammi to her room and as he was laying her down she stirred awake, “Dad?” she mumbled.

“Hey kiddo, go back to sleep.” He whispered pulling her blanket over her.

She pushed herself up rubbing her eyes, “You didn’t make it to conferences.” She said as he sat down on the edge of her bed.

“I’m so sorry Sammi. The ghost we were hunting turned out to be six. I really wanted to go and hear about how awesome my kid is.” He earned a small smile for her then her.

“Did you save a lot of people?” Dean nodded as she laid back down yawning, “Then that’s all that matters. See you in the morning, love you.”

Dean leaned over kissing her forehead, “Love you too, goodnight.”

The next morning was kind of a whirlwind getting Sammi up and ready for school. She was only a few minutes late which the school secretary assured him would be no big deal. He had just pulled into the Bunker’s garage when his cell started ringing.

“Hello?” he answered not recognizing the local number.

“Mr. Winchester, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I’m Sammi’s language arts teacher. Do you have a moment?” Sammi’s teacher said.

Dean got out of Baby and started walking towards the library, “Sure Mrs. (Y/L/N), what can I do for you?”

“It’s Miss and you can start by explaining why you missed parent, teacher conferences.” Dean was taken back by her tone.

“Well, unfortunately I had something come up at work that needed my attention. I know Sammi is a good student with good grades, so I didn’t think it was such a big deal.” He explained walking into the library where Sam and Castiel were sitting.

They both looked up at him with curious expressions. He sat down next to Sam and put his finger to his lips as he put his cell on speaker.

“You’re right, Sammi is a bright student who performs well in all of her subjects, but that is only part of being a successful student. I would like to reschedule a conference with you in order to discuss some concerns I have. Just email me a date, time and location that you will be able to keep even if I have to meet you at work.” Sam was snickering quietly as Dean narrowed his eyes at him.

“How about this afternoon? I can have my brother take Sammi home and I can meet with you in your classroom. Would that work for you Miss (Y/L/N)?” he heard shuffling of papers in the background.

“That will work great Mr. Winchester. I will see you then.” The call ended, and he sat back in his seat with a sigh.

Sam chuckled, “I like that teacher. I wish I could be there to see her put you in your place.”

Dean punched him in the arm, “I thought parent, teacher conferences were only for the bad students. Could you imagine dad going to one those for us?”

“Dean, we never stayed at one school long enough to have conferences. Look, it sounds like Sammi’s teacher really cares about her so hear her out. She has a unique point of view into Sammi’s life that none of us will have.” Dean sat back knowing Sam was right.

The rest of the day, he spent thinking about what Miss (Y/L/N) meant by concerns she had about Sammi. He thought she was growing up just fine especially for everything she had been through. He tried to give her as much normalcy as possible. When it came time to pick up Sammi up, Sam followed him in the pick-up to take her home.

“Hey dad, why is Uncle Sam here?” she asked as she walked up to him.

“Sam is going to take you home while I have a conference with Miss (Y/L/N). She called me this morning to reschedule it. Is there anything I need to know before I go in there?” He asked giving her a chance to come clean about anything.

Sammi seemed genuinely surprised and shook her head, “No, there’s nothing I can think of. I guess I’ll see you at home then. Dad, please be nice and don’t be awkward.”

Dean chuckled hugging her, “I’ll try my best kiddo.” He watched her climb into Sam’s truck and waved as they pulled away.

He stopped by the office to ask for directions to Miss (Y/L/N)’s room. Walking through the halls of the school brought back horrible memories of Truman High the last school he ever attended. He found room 301 and walked in not seeing anyone inside. Looking around, he found some essays posted to a wall with a banner saying, ‘Hall of Fame’. He found Sammi’s easy on werewolves there bring a proud smile to his face.

“Mr. Winchester?” Dean turned hearing a familiar voice and his eyes went wide for a moment. Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was a gorgeous lady with (Y/C/H) hair and bright (Y/C/E) eyes. She was dressed in black slacks and olive blouse.

Dean quickly shook his head clearing his thoughts, “Yes, please call me Dean.” He stuck out his hand and the moment her hand was in his it felt like an electric current was running up his arm.

“Nice to finally meet you Dean. Please have a seat.” She said pointing to a chair next to her desk.

He sat down as she pulled out a file from her desk. “Miss (Y/L/N), I’m not entirely sure what your concerns are about Sammi, but I can assure you that she is a great kid who is can do anything she puts her mind too.”

She nodded smiling, “I know she can. Sammi is advance in most of her subjects specifically in history and language arts. We are having to give her special assignments in order to keep her challenged in class. She’s incredibly bright and lovely young lady.”

“I feel there is a but coming here.” Dean said as she looked down at her file.

“Sammi is entering a critical transiting phase of her life. She’s growing into being a young woman and there are certain things that she will need guidance on.” He could tell she was carefully choosing her words.

Dean chuckled, “If you’re talking about the whole becoming a woman, birds and bees talk we had that a few years ago.”

Miss (Y/L/N) laughed was like music to his ears. Dean could not help to notice how her eyes lit up when she laughed. Something deep within him wanted to see more of that and his mind was buzzing with a mixture of fear along with excitement.

“There’s a difference between giving her facts and teaching her how to survive middle and high school with the ever-growing validation of social media for teens. Did you know she has been hanging out with an eighth-grade boy?” Dean’s eyes snapped up to hers panic filling them.

“No, his name doesn’t happen to be Josh?” he asked his through gritted teeth.

Miss (Y/L/N) reached over placing her hand over his, “Don’t worry Mr. Winchester, they are just friends. However, I do believe Josh is developing some feelings for her. Sammi has been tutoring him in history during their study hall period in my classroom.” She paused for a moment looking down at their hands together.

She withdrew her hand from atop of his as she continued, “I know Sammi’s mother passed away. She’s written about it a few times.” She handed him some papers with Sammi’s handwriting on them. “I want to propose something to you and if you’re okay with it then I will ask Sammi about it.”

Dean looked down at the papers skimming over the pages. Reading his daughter’s thoughts and coming from a one parent home was eye opening. He looked up to Miss (Y/L/N), “I’m listening.”

“I would like to mentor Sammi. We would hang out for a few hours at my house on Saturday or Sunday. Just a little one on one time with a female who knows what she is going through. It’s a little unorthodox but there is nothing in the school bylaws that prohibits it. However, if you are uncomfortable with the idea then I won’t push it any further.” He looked up at her uneasily.

He knew Sammi needed a female role model to help her, but he did not know how to have that with someone who was outside of their world. A civilian getting dangerously close to a world of monsters and mayhem. Looking back down at Sammi’s papers seeing how much she missed her mom was the final nail in the coffin.

“I think that would be a great idea Miss (Y/L/N). You’re by far her favorite teacher and I think it would help Sammi a lot. I just ask that if any major happens that you loop me in as well.” He said as she gave him a breathtaking smile.

“Great! I will talk to Sammi about it this week and send home details with her. It was great meeting you Dean.” She said as they both stood up.

He shook her hand not wanting to let go, “Nice to meet you as well Miss (Y/L/N).”

She walked him to her classroom door, “Please, call me (Y/N).” he nodded.

“Have a good day, (Y/N).” he said smiling his heart thumping in his chest as a light blush crept over her cheeks.

When he arrived back at the Bunker, Sammi was in the library anxiously waiting for him. “How’d it go? What did Miss (Y/L/N) say? What did you say?” she asked him rapidly.

“Whoa, slow your roll kiddo. It went fine. We discussed how you’re killing it in history and language arts which I’m pretty sure we have Sam to thank for that.” He said as she nodded sitting down with him at one of the large tables.

“True, he does let me help out a lot when he’s researching. What else?” she asked

He smiled at her deciding it was best to just be honest, “She told me you’re tutoring an eighth-grader in history.” She looked up at him wide eyed.

“Dad, I was…” she started to say but he stopped her.

“Kiddo, it’s fine. You’re a smart kid and I know you’re going to start making more of your own decisions. Don’t ever think I don’t trust you, because I do. I don’t trust other people because you’re the most important person in my life and if anything, ever happened to you I don’t know what I would do. Understand?” He asked hoping he did not make her mad.

When a small smile appeared on her face Dean let out a sigh of relief, “I get it dad and I appreciate you always being there to protect me. I’m going to go work on some homework in my room. I’m glad your conference went well with Miss (Y/L/N).”

Sammi got up kissing his cheek before heading down the hallway. Dean slumped back into his chair closing his eyes and immediately seeing (Y/N)’s smile. Open his eyes he muttered, “Aw hell.”

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