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aylacavebear · 3 months

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She Thought She was Normal

A/N: I broke chapter 20 into 2 parts. It too, was very long.

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine

Word Count: 3470

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS), Angst, slow burn, mention of sex/virginity

----------------------------------------- Chapter 20 Pt. 1 - Confessions

Morning came and went, as did lunch. Dean continued to be considerate toward her which only kept her mind in its battle, as well as her emotions. Her tattoo had finally stopped bothering her. However, she wasn’t sure if that was due to it healing on its own or if it might be connected to what she was since she no longer had a block on her powers.

She was in her room when Bobby and John got back, moving several objects around at the same time. She figured it would be better to master the one before trying another. When she heard the knock on her door, she made everything move back to their locations before she used her powers to open her door.

“Hey… kiddo…” Bobby said, realizing she’d opened the door from where she sat on her bed.

“Hey Uncle Bobby,” she replied, smiling, sitting forward.

“Looks like you’ve got some things figured out,” he chuckled, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“Just that one,” she chuckled in response, “How’d your drive go?”

“I was stuck in a car with John for two days,” Bobby laughed, “I did fill him in though, on the parts he didn’t know about you. So then, you’ve talked to her?”

Maria bit her lip, a little nervously, “Yeah. She’s nice Uncle Bobby. It’s hard for me to remember that she’s an angel and not just another human.”

Bobby sighed a little, remembering back, “She was like back then too. That book any help?”

She looked over it on her night table, “Sort of. The technical stuff is annoying though. I’d let you read it, but I found out it’s in Enochian,” she chuckled before looking back at him.

“Enochian huh?” he chuckled and shook his head a bit, “You ready for tonight?” he asked, a bit more seriously than before.

“Yes. I’ll be glad when it’s over and that demon gets his just deserts so he can never hurt anyone again,” she replied, finally feeling confident about something.

“Glad to hear that. We’ll go after dinner. John’s letting the other three know. I want to get cleaned up,” he told her before heading out of her room.

There were unspoken things they were both thinking about. The biggest one, was what would happen next after Azazel was taken care of, would they keep hunting or would they try for a normal life? That thought bothered her, especially with what Mari had said, that Sam and Dean were being manipulated by something powerful. She had hoped Mari would have told her what it was or at least would have said if it was Azazel but she hadn’t. The way Mari had talked, it had to of been something else.

She sighed and flipped the dime up in the air, moving it around again, then smiled a little. Something so small, and not in size, but in gesture, the dime from Dean the day before. She hadn’t stopped using it. He’d never given her anything before and something about that dime he’d offered her the day before made her happy.

Dean still hadn’t figured out how to apologize to her. He’d been thinking about it since she’d said it the night before. Now, he was also thinking that this whole Azazel thing would finally be over, his mother finally getting justice. Jess and Sam were having their own little conversation at one of the library tables. He didn’t want her to be there; she wanted to watch, and she wasn’t backing down.

He got up from the table and headed to Maria’s room, curious to see her door open. Dean glanced in to see what she was up to, then smiled. There she was, sitting on her bed leaning against the headboard. She had a soft smile that matched her expression, and she looked more relaxed than he’d seen her. That was when he noticed the dime moving around her room. He chuckled quietly and shook his head a little, feeling almost happy that she’d not only kept it but was still using it to practice with.

The moment she noticed him peeking in her doorway, the dime bounced off his forehead and hit the floor, making him laugh, hard while she was quickly off of her bed and in front of him, apologizing.

“It’s just a dime,” he said through fits of laughter.

“I still feel bad,” she grumbled as she picked it up off the floor.

“You’ve gotten really good at that, moving it around,” he told her, smiling but getting his laughter under control, “Can I come in?”

She tilted her head a bit, puzzled, “Uh, sure,” she replied, sitting back down on her bed.

Dean took a deep breath and joined her, although he sat on the edge of the bed and looked more at the floor. He sat in silence for a while, trying to find some courage, wishing he’d had a shot or two before he decided to go to her room.

“You okay?” she asked, seeing his demeanor.

“I’m not good at this… so uh, just… lemme get it out, before you say anything,” he told her, feeling knots in his stomach.

Maria furrowed her brow in mild confusion, but leaned back against her headboard and sighed a little, “I can do that,” she replied, her tone softer than she realized.

This was the moment of truth for him and knew he could easily screw it up if the wrong thing came out, which he didn’t want to happen. He was more of a physical type, letting his actions show what he felt. Normally he used words to push people away with anger, not get closer. He wished he could just kiss her, let her feel what he wanted to say but she wasn’t like that. She needed the words because she had Sensory Processing Sensitivity, and he’d spent their entire lives being somewhat of a jerk toward her.

“I’m sorry,” he finally sighed, letting his head fall forward a little as he leaned on his knees with his forearms.

She tilted her head but didn’t say anything, not sure what he was apologizing for. Maria wanted to ask him what it was for, even opened her mouth slightly for a moment, before closing it again, trying to be patient.

“I’m sorry for being a jerk, just wanting to fight with you from the day we met, for calling you my rival. For a long time, I just wanted to hate you, for being better than me, at everything,” he paused and chuckled a little, “Hell, it was easier to hate you.”

Maria felt goosebumps run down her body, thankful she was wearing her flannel and he wouldn’t have been able to see, even if he’d been looking at her. She bit her bottom lip nervously and it almost felt like butterflies were dancing around in her stomach.

Dean let out a sigh, more out of relief that she hadn’t gone off on him or yelled or told him to get out of her room, even if he couldn’t look over at her. He rubbed the back of his neck before he continued, “Then, one day things just changed. I don’t even know how to explain it,” he smiled, remembering back to that Thanksgiving morning. She was messing with his brother, smiling and laughing, and making apple pie, the light danced along her face and hair in a way that had made her something new to him.

She just watched him, her lips slightly parted, Jess’s words mixing in her head along with his. Dean looked so vulnerable right now, a side of him that she’d never seen before and it made her bite her lip to keep from smiling. She didn’t want him to think she thought what he was saying was funny. Maria also found it a bit hard to take a deep breath the longer he spoke. She wanted to ask him so badly but had told him she wouldn’t interrupt.

So far so good, he thought to himself, not daring to look at her. He knew he’d be too distracted by her eyes and the softness of her expression to continue and wouldn’t be able to stop himself from kissing her. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… I like you…” he finally confessed, quietly.

Maria had no idea what to even say. Anger would have been easier, which did flash across her face for a moment. She could have yelled at him for eavesdropping on what was said when he was supposed to be in the kitchen. Then she bit her lip, nervously again and looked down at the mattress between them.

“Please say something…” she heard him say quietly, still not looking over at her, but there was worry in his words.

She sighed quietly and debated her own response. She didn’t want to hurt him but also wanted to help lighten the heaviness that had settled around them, “I was just waiting, like you asked,” she replied, and he caught the playfulness in her tone.

He had to smirk at that, daring to glance over her. She was smiling a little and he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look back at the floor, taking a deep breath. Maria narrowed her eyes a bit, trying to figure out what was going through his head, “I uh… I like you too… when you aren’t being a jerk,” she confessed quietly as she looked down at the mattress between them again.

This time he did look over at her, more surprised than anything. His little brother had been right all along, and she had admitted it. He almost felt as though he’d explode with excitement. It took him a moment to really take in her expression, realizing she looked almost worried. Dean smiled softly and scooted a little closer to her before he reached out and caressed her cheek.

She jumped a little and moved her head back, away from his touch, more surprised at the tenderness of it as she looked up at him. He saw the fear in her eyes, and he wanted to reassure her that she didn’t have to feel that way. Dean took a deep breath as he set his hand back in his lap, “I’m not gonna hurt you, at least not on purpose. I can’t help my smartmouth sometimes, but just know, I’m only trying to get you to smile,” he told her softly.

Maria half smiled and looked away from him. She’d never felt like this before and had no idea how to tell him anything she was feeling. She barely managed a deep breath, “Dean, I just… I don’t know how to do this,” she told him, gesturing between the two of them.

A puzzled look crossed his face, brows furrowed, “You’ve been with a guy before, right?” he asked.

That was when she blushed and turned her head, hoping he wouldn’t see her embarrassment as she shook her head. Too many remarks went through Dean’s mind as he pulled his lips between his teeth to keep them from coming out, even making himself look up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath before he looked down at his hands, then at her, debating his next words.

“If it’s not too personal, how come?” he finally asked her, somehow managing to keep the smirk off his lips.

“Never had time,” she told him quietly, “I was too busy chasing down leads on Azazel.”

He tilted his head a bit, wondering how that would have stopped her from having a little fun along the way, “Is that the only reason?” he asked, still puzzled.

“Yeah. I never thought about it. I uh… I was in a really bad place after my dad passed, probably worse than when John lost your mom,” she replied quietly.

Dean could relate to that and it made him want to reach out to her again but with how she’d reacted earlier, he didn’t. He considered what to say though, “It’ll be over tonight. He won’t be able to hurt any of us again.”

She glanced over at him, “He won’t but… he still has his lackeys that we’ll have to worry about. At least they won’t be as strong though,” she replied, half-lidded eyes due to worry.

He realized she had changed the subject, rather calculated at that and he sighed, “Look, I’m not gonna push you. I just wanted you to know I was sorry for how I treated you and that I like you. I’m here though, if you need anything,” he told her before standing up. Then, he leaned down kissing the top of her head, and headed out to the library.

She may have flinched away from his touch but she at least liked him, which was more than he’d hoped for, so was smiling from ear to ear as he rounded the corner of the library, practically skipping up the stairs. Sam, Jess, Bobby, and John were all sitting there, talking about this and that but the moment Dean entered, they just watched him for a moment.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” John chuckled.

“And why shouldn’t I be? We’re taking out Azazel tonight,” he played it off.

Jess and Sam tried not to chuckle, let alone laugh, but a small chuckle came out of both of them, “Yeah, sure,” Bobby scoffed playfully, then it turned into a chuckle.

“How’d it go with Maria?” Jess asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

“Went fine,” he replied casually, sitting down, still smiling like a teenager.

“Looks like more than fine,” Sam teased him.

“So, are you two dating yet?” Jess asked him.

Dean almost choked at her question, coughing a bit, “Geeze Jess. No, we aren’t dating.”

The four of them erupted in playful laughter and Dean rolled his eyes, “I’m gonna go get dinner started,” he grumbled a little before he walked off.

Maria slipped on her blue flannel, leaving it unbuttoned, then headed out of her room. She could tell where everyone was at, being able to sense them, so just went through the war room to the kitchen. She also knew that the four of them watched her, even if she didn’t look over at them. She’d decided to at least attempt to explore the emotions she couldn’t describe that came from her thoughts about Dean. They also came up whenever he was around her now. Monsters were easy for her to deal with. So was facing what she was. Whatever this was that she felt for Dean, she had no clue what it meant or why she was feeling it. She’d never even looked into relationships.

“Want some help?” she asked quietly from the doorway of the kitchen, looking more at the floor. She always had confidence, at least with everything but these emotions that all centered around Dean.

He felt his heart skip a beat, hearing her, and when he looked at her, he had to force himself not to go and just hold her. “I’d love your help,” he replied.

She took a deep breath but it came out shaking, “How can I help?” she asked, almost shyly, slowly letting her eyes look up at him.

He realized it wasn’t him she was afraid of, it was her emotions, the feeling of uncertainty, so he smiled softly at her, “You could wrap up the potatoes so they can go in the oven,” he replied.

Maria managed a small smile and walked over to the sink, looking for the potatoes, then frowned not seeing them there. She looked at Dean, somewhat puzzled before heading to the shelf and grabbing enough for each person to have one. He chuckled to himself while he seasoned the steaks. She washed and set up the potatoes, the two of them working together silently. Dean was just happy that she had made the move to be in the kitchen with him instead of shying away or putting up that hard shell again.

“Did you need help with anything else?” she asked, again shyly. She was so unsure of how to even act around him at the moment and it frustrated her.

“Wanna put ‘em in the oven and set a thirty-minute timer?” he asked.

Dean was standing in front of the counter on the other side of the oven. She pursed her lips together as she glanced over at him, “Sure…” she answered.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her movements were slow but fluid as she took care of what he’d asked. Her softness made him smirk a little, happily. Dean moved around her as he got the pan on the oven for the steaks. She had to take a deep breath when he got as close as he did to her and it took everything in her not to shy away from him. She set the timer and moved over to the sink, putting a few feet between them.

It didn’t go unnoticed either and he sighed a little, “Hey, thanks for the help,” he told her as he started the steaks.

She grumbled, feeling bad for feeling things she didn’t understand, “I told you I don’t know how to do this,” she told him shyly, and quietly.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at her.

Maria chewed on her bottom lip nervously as she looked at the floor again, “I don’t even know how to explain how I feel, okay?” she replied, trying not to sound frustrated.

Realization finally dawned on Dean, which made him chuckle with understanding, “It’s called having a crush on someone.”

She knew she liked him but had never equated it to having a crush, thinking it was more because he had stopped being an ass, “You mean like what Jess and Sam have?” she asked, still somewhat puzzled.

Dean tried not to laugh, but it came out anyway, “No. Those two are like lovebirds. It’s way past a crush for them. Pretty sure he’s gonna propose to her, if I’m reading it right,” he explained as he cooked.

Maria looked over at the entryway for the kitchen. She couldn’t see out to where they were sitting in the library but her mind was mulling over what he’d said, “So… how…” she sighed, not even sure how to word her question.

He debated his next statement, not wanting to push her, “Well, you gotta decide if you wanna explore it, with your crush, let ‘em get close. It means you’d have to let your guard down.”

She felt a sense of panic at those words. Maria had had a hard exterior shell up for so long, especially when it had come to Dean, that she wasn’t sure how to even let it down. Dean glanced over at her, wanting to hold her but didn’t. He let the silence between them fall. It wasn’t uncomfortable for him as he focused on the steaks. Maria on the other hand sighed and went and sat at the kitchen table, needing more space between them to breathe.

“Hey, take your time, okay? I’m not going anywhere, Sweetheart,” he told her without turning to look at her.

Maria felt that wave of guilt wash over her again and stared at the table. She wanted to ask him why he was being like this with her but she knew what he’d say. Her mind again remembered what he had said the other day, that she had him at apple pie, still frustrated she didn’t understand what he meant.

When he put the last round of steaks on he grabbed two beers out of the fridge, popping the top on hers before he set it in front of her on the table. She managed a half smile and thanked him, taking a sip. Dean began setting the table while she sat there sipping her beer, leaving her to her thoughts and emotions. He’d said all he could, now it was up to her. When the timer dinged on the oven he pulled out the potatoes and hollered for the others to join them.

Dinner was somewhat quiet. They could tell something was on Maria’s mind but with everything she had on her plate, so to speak, they weren’t entirely sure what it was and didn’t want to push either. There was also a buzz of excitement and anticipation with what was to come after dinner, finally dealing with Azazel, on their terms. That was what Maria had decided to focus on, at least for now, pushing aside everything having to do with Dean and Zamariel. She even managed to smile again as well as relax a bit.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 20 Pt. 2 - Azazel

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67

Link to the master list for this story.

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incarnateirony · 1 year

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Hi.I will say right away that I do not understand the situation with Patrick very well, but for several years I was thrown information that he wrote with the words:"look at what Patrick writes, he has secret sources, he owns insider information," but I'm such a person that I don't take his word for it, so every time I started checking how reliable it was, and every time I came to the conclusion that this Patrick is just a stupid talker who doesn't own any secret sources. I will give a small example:last summer, Patrick wrote that Jared will have a new project not on the CW and that Jared has three projects: Walker, Windy and a new one not on the CW.And Jared's poor stans spent the whole summer wondering where their precious whiner would be filmed, in fact it turned out that Jared was just going on vacation, so he canceled the convention, and not because he was working.This is just a small example of how Patrick gives out wishful thinking for insider information .We all know that Jared's stans doesn't like Walker and they're jealous of Jensen, so they want other projects for Jared.So when they send me something with the words:"look what Patrick wrote," then I tell them to "fuck off with this stupid cunt"

Yeah, it's literally years ongoing of vaguing, stalking, denial, and wishful thinking.

The guy once in a while hears something vaguely convention relevant that actually happens but he tries to pass his convention socialite nonsense as real production connection or a viable method to maintain meritful intel. Or blurs the lines of those connections.

Like basically sometimes he'll vague at some guests that seem to come true. Fair enough. His whole life and that of his friends revolves around being consumers in the convention market, so I'm unsurprised they hear news about what will be consumable to consumers in the consumer market at that level of involvement.

It's the overall stretching of that awareness--and hell, it's ability to fail, like your example, or the fact he just got busted outright lying about M&G contents and is known for it on the lowkey to people that rotate in and out of those greets by the dozens and watch him lie and butcher what's said in them for years.

The guy has never had a meaningful piece of intel land much less about the shows, much less about THIS show. Like this one in particular, any canker sore that had given him viable info in mainbody SPN seems to have been yeeted. He literally hasn't had a single thing right about The Winchesters and has failed at every denial to date so far but still can not be compelled to shut the fuck up, because he wants the attention so damn bad. And the free gold tickets he grifted out of people with the shit.

Man has been a consistent leak failure for 6 years but people lost to their delusional psychic landscapes of self importance just like hearing what he says and imagine if they wish real real hard, THIS TIME he'll be right about something.

Also frankly his con sources aren't even that good, apparently mine outrank his, and that's all I can say, because he'd also be shutting up even from a con angle at this point if he had a real clue. If ANY of his CE connections were even worth a damn he'd have the context and information enough to know one of the several reasons I keep saying TW/CM is fine.

in hindsight it's genuinely funny that for all his work and posturing, the market i've made clear I give a shit about the absolute least and ignore until he and his friends fuck up on main, i still somehow have better ears on the wall at than him. without paying a dime. bless.

if the man stayed in his own lane and just admitted he was only a con coverer, I wouldn't mind. I'm sure he'd still butcher con coverage, but everyone butchers con coverage. But it's his desperate need to pretend it makes him Somebody That Knows Something, even when he's proven a hundred times to the opposite. Nobody would bother him if he just reported shit, it's him pretending he can talk in the production box by proxy that turns him into a living clown.

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canyouimagine-spn-blog · 2 years

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Mutual

Paring: Dean X Female!reader

warnings: mutual mastubation, smut, 18+

________________________

Author's note: I've been away for a while but I've decided to come back, so give me a while to get back into the groove of things. Anyway, I wrote this a few years ago and I'm pretty proud of it. Hope you like it. I do accept requests, so feel free to drop a dime.

_______________

Dean looked down at his hardening member under his jeans, resisting the urge to touch himself before Y/N returned home from the supply run with Sam. He looked at his watch, they've been gone for almost 2 hours. Fuck! He was starting to ache and throb beneath the fabric. Screw It he thought and with his right hand, he slid it down between his thighs to cup his balls, his left hand moved to his shaft, squeezing lightly- trying to relieve some of the tension- it only made it worse. His member jumped under his touch.

Quickly he undid his jeans, pulling them down just enough to release his dick from his boxer-briefs. Almost immediately later, he took his long, hard member in his hand, using the pre-cum the leaked from his slit as a lubricant to easily stroke his shaft, squeezing it lightly; closing his eyes and imagining it to be her hand instead of his own.

She opened the heavy door of the bunker, arms full of grocery bags, the younger Winchester brother followed behind her closely, his arms also full with grocery bags, expection Dean to greet them at the bottom of the stairs, but instead they were met by silence. "Dean?" Sam called, his loud voice boomed through the hollows of the bunker. No response. "He must be out with Baby or something" I said as we made our way to the kitchen. Once there, they placed the brown papar bags on the pristine sliver counter tops, and began putting away the items, "I'm good here, I can put these away" Sam said to Y/N "okay, thank you. I'm gonna hit the showers" she replied and made her way towards the shower room.

As she walked dowen the hallway, she could hear soft grunts- one's she's very familiar with- as she approached the 'Dean Cave' as he called it. The door was slightly ajar, she peaked inside and saw him sat on the couch. Only his head and shoulder were visible to her, but she could see the relection on the black TV screen that sat on its stand. His cock stood proudly as it was gripped by the hunter, stroking it up and down in a quick place, his eyes were closed and mouth was open. She quietly entered the room, "oh fuck, baby" Dean grunted "Yeah baby. What do you want?" she asked, putting on the most sultry and flirtacious voice she could muster, walking around the couch to stand in front of him. Dean's eyes shot open, and his movements haulted, but he didn't reply. He just watched as she purched herself on the coffee table in front of him.

"Do you want me to help you with that, Sugar?" she asked inoccently, biting her lower lip, her eyes darted down to his hard cock that was still occupied but his closed fist then back up to his green eyes. Dean just nodded, unable to form words. "You have no idea how much I want my lips around that hot juicy cock-" she confessed as she slid off the oak furniture onto her knees in between Dean's open bow-legs. She broke eye contact for a second, tilting her head to the side as shewatched her hands slide up his thighs, inches away from his cock. "-but I think I really, really wanna watch you finish yourself off first" she continued, sitting back on the coffee table.

Dean's breathing became even heavier than before, his heart raced with excitment. They've done a lot of things together, a lot, but never this. "Don't be shy Sugar. Nothin' I ain't seen before" she said soflty, a smirk played on her lips. He just nodded again, moving his fist up and down his shaft, inscreasing speed as he went on. She licked her lower lip, then took it between her teeth, watching him- his face, his eyes, his cock head disappearing in his fish and re-appearing, looking even more red each time than previous. "Fuck" Dean groaned, titling his head backwards. She had to clentch her thights to releive some of the ache between them there, feeling herself increasing with arousal as sinful noises spilled from his lips as he continued jacking off.

She kicked off her boots before quickly removing her jeans, piling them on top of her boots on the floor. Her hand slipped into her black lace panties, feeling how wet she was she moaned. She placed her feet on the edge of the table, leaning backwards, supporing her weight on one hand, to give Dean a better, fuller view of her. He watched intently as she removed her now ruined panties without haste, her fingerd back on her clit, rubbing quick, small circles over her swollen nub, moanig. "oh shit, Dean" she cried out. As Dean watched her, it only made him race towards climax faster, made him want her more. His cock throbbed in his hand and he knew he was close, balls tightening.

"oh shit! Fuck yeah, Sweetheart, you look so good like that. All spread out for me" He spoke in a low voice. "You like that, baby?" she asked, watching him stroke his cock faster, then squeeze the base in an attempt to hold off on his impending orgasm. "I love watching you jack- off baby. I wanna see you cum" "No, I wanna cum inside you" "Not yet, Sugar. All in due time. Cum for me Dean. Please cum" she dipped two on her fingers in her soaked hole, stutterng out a breath and a moan at the sensation. Unable to hold off any longer, Dean came with a loud groan "shit!" he yelled, dragging out is words. Y/N pumped her fingers faster as she watched spurts of hot white cum coating his fist and some landing on his back shirt. She lay back on the oak furniture, searching for her own orgasm, rubbing her clit and pumping her fingers inside her. Seconds later, her fingers were removed from her, and she felt Dean's hot mouth on her sucking and licking and

Oh-

His fingers pumped in and out of her feverishly as he sucked on her clit, sending her reeling. It wasn't long before she was crying out in pure bliss as her long awaited orgasm washed over her entire being like a tidle wave. Dean slowed him movements, working her through her orgasm as she jolted with short bursts of shockwaves from the aftermath. "Fuck me, that was so hot" she spoke, panting heavily, completely spent. Sitting up slowly, she looked down at her boyfriend. "You're telling me" Dean retorted from between her legs. Her legs now firmly on the gorund, she places a shaky hand on his stubble-laced jaw, wipping away her juices from his lips with her thumb, never looking away from his eyes. "I love you, Dean" she whispered "I love you, Y/N" he stood and lifted her effortlessly "C'mon, lets get you showered and changed. Ready for dinner" he spoke and carried her out of the room.

FIN.

#supernatural #dean winchester imagine #dean imagine #dean winchester #dean x female!reader #dean winchester smut #Dean X reader smut

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interrogatethecat · 2 years

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so it goes

word count: 2.5k

for the day twelve @destielmonth prompt, time travel. tag list is under the cut, read the rest on ao3!

Listen:

Dean Winchester has come unstuck in time.

Dean has gone to sleep on an unforgiving dungeon floor at forty and woken up in the backseat of the Impala at twenty-two. He’s walked through a door in 2020 and come out through another one in 2008. He has gone back through the same door to find himself in 2018. He has seen his birth and deaths again and again. He pays random visits to the events in between.

Dean is spastic in time, has no control over where he’s going next. Sometimes he’s in the present, wearing a jacket with a brand that burns into his shoulder; he’s in a motel room, telling Sam to head outside and listen to some music as his dad stumbles in with a bottle in hand; laying in his bed back in Lawrence as his mother whispers angels are watching over you. Sometimes he’s a teenager rock hard in lace panties, looking up at Rhonda Hurley; or sitting in the Deancave with Jack while they watch Scooby Doo. Dean is everywhere and nowhere, adrift in time’s current.

This time, the world fades out while he’s in a motel room. He’s going through the motions, working some case because that’s what he does when the world keeps spinning, and then he’s not. He’s standing in Sioux Falls, South Dakota in Bobby Singer’s kitchen, three hundred miles and several years away from where he was a moment before.

It’s dark and empty. The silhouettes of books and empty beer bottles are thrown haphazardly around the room. It’s just how Dean remembers it. He can even hear Bobby’s muffled snoring from upstairs.

He doesn’t remember this memory, though. Maybe because he’s spent so many nights in Bobby’s kitchen while the rest of the house sleeps.

Dean wanders through the living room, careful to avoid the teetering stacks of books and papers scattered around and the creaky floorboards he knows by heart, even now.

He finds himself on the front porch a few minutes later, sitting on the steps and looking up.

He doesn’t know how long passes, how long he sits there, lost in his thoughts before there’s a flap of wings.

Dean stills. He hasn’t heard that since—

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says.

Dean stands suddenly and whirls around. He forgets how to breathe. In all his slipping through time, this is the first he’s seen Cas since it happened. Images of inky black tendrils and a radiant smile fill his head, but Dean barely notices them. He only has eyes for what’s in front of him.

“Cas,” he breathes.

And it’s him. It is him, with the trench coat that hangs off his frame and the tie he’s never figured out how to tie. Dark hair that won’t lie flat and blue eyes that make Dean’s heart stutter.

Cas— his vessel, at least— is younger now. He doesn’t have the crows eyes that Dean’s memorized. This Cas hasn’t learned how to smile and laugh and be human yet.

But it’s still Cas. It’s still his Cas.

“You’re not Dean Winchester,” Cas says, frowning. “Not the Dean Winchester I know.”

Dean rubs at his eyes (when did he start crying?) and shakes his head.

Cas steps closer. “You’re upset,” he notices. He tilts his head, and god, Dean misses this, he misses all of this.

“Cas,” he says, and then all of a sudden, the world falls away and he’s back in the motel room.

Cas is gone again. So it goes.

“No,” Dean pleads. “Nononono— Cas! Castiel!”

His begging does nothing. He’s back to where he is, not where he was.

Listen:

Dean Winchester has come unstuck in time, but he feels even more stuck now than he ever has, falling to his knees in a dime a dozen motel room, years away from the one place he knows as home.

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#vonnegutnatural my beloved #spn #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #my writing #my fic #destielmonth21 #vonnegutnatural

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1000roughdrafts · 3 years

Text

The (almost) Perfect Crime: Chapter Three

Warnings: language, alcoholism, violence (kind of) and threats of violence

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: This one is Dean’s POV, and as a reminder, this is an AU where Dean and Sam are not brothers, not related and don’t even really know each other that well. This was supposed to come out earlier today but I had a weird day and didn't schedule it I'm sorry

Masterlist

Chapter Two

Detective Dean Campbell parked his personal vehicle on the street a block down from the Golden Egg, just barely concealed behind a deteriorating fence. He glanced at his watch to note the time his subject entered the bar, and slouched back in the seat. He poured the remainder of his coffee into his mouth, scrunching his face as the undissolved sugar grates its way down his throat among the now cold brew. Clearing his throat, he glanced at his watch again, and then at the street as people came and went.

God, you stick out like a sore thumb, Dean, he thinks, sinking into the seat a little more. Figuring he had a little time before that scum of a man came back out anyway, he could use the distraction of flipping through the file he kept locked away until he was off the company dime.

The other detectives were sure he was off his rocker just for mentioning a distaste for Portland’s favorite lawyer, Sam Winchester. But those same assholes were on board when his hunch proved true about the judge that was accepting bribes. It wasn’t as high profile as a case like Sam’s would be, but damn, it really showed Dean that he just can’t trust anyone.

He’d been given an ultimatum by the director; he could either stand down, or step down. Except Dean’s never been one to let someone stand in the way of what’s right, no matter who they are or what power they hold. His investigation was just going to have to stay a secret until he’d gathered enough evidence to sway the DA into pursuing a case.

“Fuck,” he growled, slamming a hand on the steering wheel. His eyes were going cross-eyed combing through the same papers over and over as they looked for something, anything that would just jump out and help him solve this. He needed a break, badly, but anytime he took his eyes off the pictures and documents he could still see them like they were imprinted on the back of his eyelids.

A knock at the window startled him into dropping the papers into his lap. Looking through the window was Sam with a smug smile.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Dean said, forcing all of his strength into opening the door to slam it against Sam.

Lazily holding his hands in the air, Sam laughed. “Easy officer,” he said. Pointing at the Impala with a tilted head, he added, “you tailing me now, Campbell?” With a cocked head.

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped out, “the world doesn’t revolve around you, Winchester. I thought I’d stop by for a drink,” he said with a poised smile.

“Really?” Sam scoffed, “kind of looks like you’ve been following me,” he said. Making a pouting face, he said, “you’re a cop, Dean-o, don’t embarrass yourself like this.”

“Detective,” he clarified, “and I’m off duty… as I said, getting a drink.”

Sam nodded his head with the words, “which makes what you’re doing a crime, detective,” he chuckled, “you realize that right?” He looked around at the now nearly vacant street, “out in the open and all.” His laugh deepened as he turned to walk away, but after a few steps, he turned to face Dean. “You know, I could teach you a thing or two about staying hidden,” he smirked, “off the record, I swear,” he said, palms held up with a smug grin.

It took nearly everything in Dean not to hit him right then. He clenched his teeth and spoke through them, “over my dead body, Winchester.”

Sam tilted his head and tsked, “now, careful what you wish for, Dean-o,” he said, turning again to walk away.

“Your girlfriend know what you’re really up to when you’re ‘working’?” Dean called out.

Whirling around, Sam glanced at the bar and then back at Dean through squinted eyes before marching towards him.

“That wouldn’t be a threat, now, would it?” He said through his teeth while jabbing a finger into Dean’s chest.

Dean held his head high, and shrugged. “I know that I would never hurt her,” he said, then sucked air in through his teeth, “but could the same be said for you?” He let the air out and shook his head, “well, I’m sure we’ll all just be a lot happier when you’re behind bars,” he said, and in a harsher tone, added, “where you belong.”

Sam laughed, mocking Dean, “you can’t even get one detective on your side, let alone the DA, but yeah, go ahead and try your luck. See what happens.”

Dean rolled his eyes and let Sam walk away. He was nearly shaking with anger from just the thought of yet another day where Sam walks free, but if he wanted to get anywhere in his investigation, he’d need to get some sleep and grub.

—

The last thing Dean expected was to see Y/N sitting at a table on the balcony of the Golden Egg. He sat in a booth near the doors to eat and could see her through the glass with a woman he didn’t recognize. Y/N’s hair was tied up and for a lot of the conversation, which he wasn’t able to hear, she had her eyebrows raised and she sat very close to the table. Her drink was almost untouched and her leg was bouncing rapidly.

It felt weird for him to be so close to her, especially after the interaction he’d just had with her boyfriend. He ate his burger quickly as he snuck glances at her. If it weren’t for her long sleeves, and pants he’d have scanned her skin for bruises or marks.

Pulling cash from his wallet, he chugged the drink as he stood up. He threw the cash onto the table as he set the glass down and looked at Y/N one last time before turning to leave.

As he walked out, he wondered what side Sam showed her. It was hard to imagine that Sam treated her well. As he’d been tracking him for a while, he was well aware that they’d been together for the better part of three years. Hell, they even live together, and he hoped for Y/N’s sake that Sam was a good actor, because he knew that Y/N didn’t deserve to be with a guy like him. Hell, no one deserved that.

He thought about her the entire way home. The idea that she was so close to danger while being none the wiser really worked his nerves. He decided at that moment that nothing would get in the way of him building a case against Sam.

Pulling the Impala into the parking lot of his apartment complex, Dean wondered if sleep would escape him again like it had been for months. He jogged to his apartment and went straight for the beer in his fridge. His shoes came off only second to popping the top off and taking a sip of his sleep aid. It had become part of his routine; work on the clock for ten hours, then off the clock for anywhere from five to seven hours, drink a few or maybe several beers, and sleep (or try to sleep) for four hours, and that was if he was lucky.

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That night, luck wasn’t on his side as he would get about two and a half hours, spending most of it tossing and turning.

Chapter Four

Dean <3 @akshi8278 @squirrelnotsam @laxe-from-outer-space @ellewritesfix05 @lyarr24 @mrspeacem1nusone @idksupernaturl @fandom-princess-forevermore @stoneyggirl

Sam <3 @fangirlxwritesx67 @immafangirlmess

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Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know via a comment, like or reblog if you’re enjoying this so far! Feedback really helps to motivate me in writing more, good or constructive <3

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deanswaywardgirl · 3 years

Text

The End

A/N: Hey, okay, so this is my attempt at a re-write of one of my top five favorite episodes, including my OC. I don’t have very many of these, because re-writes are difficult and very time consuming. I do not claim Supernatural or Sam and Dean. Just my OC.

Faith sighed as she considered calling Gabriel, pacing in her motel room. Any minute, Dean would be headed to 2014 and meeting up with his future self. Being half angel, she didn't have the power to send herself.

"You rang?" his sultry voice penetrated the silence, earning Faith's attention. "I need your help to get to 2014, Gabriel." His brow arched as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why?" he asked her, his eyes narrowing. "Because I know Dean's going, thanks to your douchebag brother, Zachariah. Look, he managed to let slip that I play some part in this pissing contest between Michael and Lucifer." Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes.

"So, what? You want spoilers to see who wins?" he asked, pulling a sucker from his jacket. Faith squared her shoulders. "You owe me for that Wednesday Mystery Spot stunt you pulled," she reminded him, arching a brow. Gabriel smirked and shrugged. "Okay, okay, I hear you. Deal," he said and the humor faded from his features as he took her hands. "Be careful, Faith. My brother will not hesitate to take you off the board. Dean, he can't, but you're different."

"I'll be careful, Gabe, thank you." Gabriel snapped his fingers and in the blink of an eye, Faith could tell she was no longer in 2009. "Awesome," she breathed and headed out of the run down motel she was in, out onto the street. "Focus on finding Dean, Faith. Nothing else." As if on cue, she could hear heavy artillery being fired. "Dean," she said with a smile, and ran towards the noise. She ducked into a back alley and ran around the back of the building, able to see Dean. "Dean, come on! This way!" she called to him and smiled when he didn't question her.

"What are you doing here? Are you living here?" he asked. Faith shook her head. "Nope, I'm from 2009 just like you. And before you ask, I had help getting here, from a much nicer angel than Zach." she said, both of them relieved they were, for the moment, out of danger. "Who?" he asked. "Gabriel. The archangel," she told him with a shrug, not wanting to lie to him.

Think of him as my own personal Castiel." She smiled and nodded down the road. "Come on, we need to get to Bobby's house." "You knew about this? All of it?" he asked, the pair reaching an abandoned car. Soon, they were on the road. "I'm sorry, Dean, but I've told you, I can't tell you what happens down the road. I want to, believe me. But the angels will know, and as punishment, they'll make the outcome pretty damn bad." Dean sighed and licked his lips.

"What can you tell me?" he asked, gently. "Not much. Just vague details here and there, point you in the right direction. I'm sorry, Dean, I really am." Dean sighed and glanced over at her in the passenger seat. Licking her lips, Faith shrugged. "I can share irrelevant details. Who knows, maybe they'll help." Dean couldn't help but smile at her addition. "Faith, I know you're trying to help. Out of everybody, I've always been able to trust you. You've been there to help me these last few long weeks. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that." Faith smiled softly and touched his arm, and gently squeezed.

"You can always trust me, Dean, no matter what. I guess I can tell you this. You won't find Bobby at his house, but you still need to head in that direction." "Where's Bobby?" Dean asked, slightly confused. "I don't know. He might be dead, they never clarified. There was just a bloody bullet hole in his overturned wheelchair, which was just an implication. But you will find John's journal, which is important. For now, that's all I can tell you." Dean nodded before jumping at the sound of wings fluttering.

"You wanna explain why this abomination is here?" Zachariah scowled. Faith smirked. "Tour guiding. Dean, on the left, you'll see old rusty street signs, maybe abandoned buildings. And up ahead, we have Croatoan zombies because angels are too busy watching holy porn to do anything helpful." Dean smirked proudly at the girl beside him. "I knew I smelled your stink on this Back to the Future crap."

"President Palin defends bombing of Houston," Zachariah read, obviously ignoring Dean's jabs. "Certainly a buyer's market in real estate. Let's see what's happening in sports. Right, no more sports, Congress revoked the right to group assembly. What's left of Congress, that is. Hardly a quorum if you ask me," Zach rambled on to himself. Faith shook her head in the front seat at the angel behind them.

"How'd you find me?" Dean interrupted. "Had to tap some unorthodox resources. Human informants. We've been making inspirational visits to the fringier Christian groups. They've been given your image, told to keep an eye out." Dean's eyes slightly widened in realization. "The bible freak outside the motel. He, what, dropped the dime on me?"

"Onward Christian soldiers." "Good. You've had your jollies, now send me back, you son of a bitch." "Oh, you'll get back, all in good time. We want you to marinate a bit," Zachariah told him, ignoring the insult. "Marinate?" Faith and Dean asked in unison. "Three days, Dean. Three days to see where this course of action takes you." Faith rolled her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, irritated. "That your choices have consequences. This is what happens to the world if you continue to say no to Michael." Faith glanced back at the paper he was holding up.

"Palin defends bombing of Houston?" she asked, then turned to Dean. "Dean, I say we hunt Sarah Palin down and exile her back to Alaska where she belongs. It'd be doing Houston a great service," she said, sarcastically, earning a chuckle from the eldest Winchester. Zachariah smirked and shrugged, clearly knowing something the two didn't. "Have a little look-see." With that, the angel was gone. Faith glanced over at Dean and smiled at his smirk. "I've always hated him. He's worse than Uriel, believe me." Soon, they were pulling up to Bobby's house, and slipped out of the car. "Bobby?" There was no answer. "Dean. No Bobby, remember?" Faith whispered. "Right," Dean replied and entered the house. Sure enough, Dean found Bobby's wheelchair with the bullethole. "I think you're right, Faith. I think he is dead. Where is everybody, Bobby?" he asked, quietly. "Hey, come here," Faith called to him, and held out John's journal. Dean took it and pulled out a picture, and glanced down at it, Bobby in the front of a group of men. "Camp Chitaqua." ************************ Dean and Faith snuck up on the encampment and noticed a rather familiar outline of Dean's beloved impala. "Oh, Baby." He took Faith's hand and led her to the broken down shell of a car. "No. Oh, no, Baby, what did they do to you?" All Faith could see was Dean go down before she was hit as well, everything going black around her.

************************* A ringing in her ears caused Faith to stir and look around before she saw Dean in front of her, and beside her. She tried to stand, but hissed as the cuffs chaffed her skin. Looking back at Dean, she licked her lips. "If I remember correctly, you should know who I am," he said, watching her as she nodded. "You're the 2014 Dean." He scoffed. "And what are you, exactly?" he asked, aiming the gun at her.

"You haven't tested me? I know you tested your past self over here," she nodded at the stirring Dean beside her, who looked up at his future self, then to Faith, and back after noting that she was okay. "What the hell?"

"I should be asking that question, don't you think? In fact, why don't you give me one good reason why I shouldn't gank you here and now?"

"Because you'd only be hurting yourself," Dean replied with a huff of laughter.

"Very funny." Future Dean moved back to his table of weapons.

"Look, man, I'm no Shapeshifter, or demon, or anything, okay?"

"Yea, I know. I did the drill on both of you while you were out. Silver, salt, holy water. Nothing. But you know what was funny, is that you had every lockpick, box cutter and switchblade that I carry. You wanna explain that? Oh, and the resemblance while you're at it."

"Zachariah," Dean said, simply. Future Dean's brow furrowed.

"You remember him, don't you?" Faith asked. "You should, Dean, since it was you sitting where this Dean is because of that dick angel," Faith told him, swallowing hard, earning his attention.

"That still doesn't explain how...." Future Dean's eyes widened slightly before they fell to the floor. Faith could tell he was thinking about something or someone. When his eyes met hers, again, all she could see was a heartbreaking sadness.

"You're not a monster, either, are you? You're the Faith from the past." Faith nodded, then glanced over at Past Dean and back. "I'm not sure I like that look." The future version broke eye contact, his hazel eyes blinking. He sighed, and rubbed his forehead.

"Can you...will you come with me?" he asked and moved towards her, unlocking her cuffs.

"Whoa, hey, you're just gonna leave me?" Past Dean asked as the two moved to the door. "Yes. I have a camp full of twitchy trauma survivors with an apocalypse hanging over their heads. Last thing they need to see is a version of the Parent Trap."

"You can at least uncuff me, man."

"No, absolutely not."

"Oh, come on. You don't trust yourself?"

"Absolutely not." Future Dean gently tugged on Faith's hand and led her out of his cabin and down a barely hidden pathway. "So, are you gonna tell me what this is about?" Faith asked. Dean turned to face her and without a word, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Faith slowly melted into it and pushed her fingers through his hair. She then wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled back, breathing heavily. "Okay, I'm not sure I understand."

Dean swallowed hard and led her further down the private path. What got her attention was the name on the headstone. Her name. "Oh god," she whispered, unable to speak any louder. "Listen, I gotta go out on a mission right now. Stay here, and we'll talk when I get back."

******************* Faith had sat at what seemed to be her own grave for hours, unable to take her eyes off of it. Silent tears fell down her cheeks, unable to think about anything but how it might've happened. Either Croatoan or Lucifer? Every now and then, she would wonder about Dean. That kiss had seemed desperate, like he'd been dying to do it for awhile. Did they ever get together? If they did, how long before she died? Letting out a shaky breath, she let more tears fall. It wasn't much longer before she felt Dean standing behind her, and swallowed hard.

"When?" she asked, her voice cracking. "A year ago. In Chicago, I brought you here, gave you a hunter's funeral, and gave you a headstone. It was my way of seeing you when I needed to. Your ashes are in my cabin." Faith's eyes burned with unshed tears.

"How?" When he didn't answer her, she stood and turned to face him. "Dean, tell me." Dean let out a deep breath, his eyes falling.

"The Croatoan virus had spread all over, started in the Windy City. You and I headed there and got separated. Eventually, we reunited, both with a few people that had tagged along. Those people are here now, most of 'em anyway. We locked down an abandoned hotel and regrouped into two groups, and made a plan to go out and look for more survivors. After that, we moved out." He licked his lips, his brow furrowing. "When you and your group didn't show up at the rendezvous point, we went looking." He stopped and swallowed hard, biting his lip. "When-- when I found you, you were barely alive, and calling out for me. I picked you up and held you in my lap. You told me you loved me and that you'd always be with me."

Tears fell down his cheeks before he wiped his hand over his face, clearing his face of the tears, and sighed. "And I told you that I loved you, and it was over." Faith placed both of her hands over her mouth and let out a shaky breath, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I never should've let you go off on your own, Faith, I am so sorry. It was my fault." Faith shook her head and moved towards him, hugging him tightly.

"No, I'm sorry, Dean. Knowing me, I probably insisted." She felt him bury his face in her neck and gently squeeze her. "That's why you've barely been able to look at me. I remind you of the Faith you lost." He nodded, then opened his mouth to talk when Chuck appeared at the end of the trail. "Sorry, Dean, its time." Dean glanced at Faith and sighed, then smiled sadly as he took her hand and led her out, back to the cabin.

"Don't tell my version what you told me. I don't want him to worry about me. That'll just get him killed."

"I'm not worth that," Faith and Dean said in unison. "I knew you'd say that," he told her, glancing at her. He smiled for the first time since she'd arrived. "Is that a smile? I wasn't sure if you remembered how to do that." Dean then chuckled, and glanced at her. "I've missed you, sweetheart. All I think about anymore is what you would do, or say if you were here. And to God, I wish you were. I find myself talking to you sometimes, and I always wonder what you'd say."

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze before releasing her. Faith glanced up when the past version walked up to them. "Hey," she said, gently dropping Dean's hand, winking at him, then turned back to her version. "We going now?" she asked, earning a pointed stare and a nod. "Where were the two of you?" he asked, his eyes shifting between the two of them.

"Dean was just showing me what the future holds," she told him, being as vague as she could possibly be. Dean's eyes betrayed him, showing his curiosity, but Faith shook her head. "Not gonna happen," she told him, slightly smirking. "Trust me, I won't let this happen to us. Any of this." Faith watched the future version of Dean closely, especially his expressions and emotions, which were rare. But she couldn't blame him.

He'd lost everyone that had ever meant anything to him. The only people that made him happy. Swallowing hard, her eyes fell as she wasn't really paying attention to the conversations around her, and blinked when everybody but the two Deans filed out of the cabin.

******************** "We're loaded up and on the road by midnight," Future Dean ordered, followed by an "Alrighty," from Castiel. Faith let out a breath as she was overwhelmed by all the information she'd acquired. "Why are you taking me?" Past Dean asked, not seeing any reason for him to go. "Relax, you'll be fine. Zach's looking after you, right?" Dean asked, tossing firearms into a duffel bag.

"No, that's not what I mean," he said, earning his future self's attention. "I wanna know what's going on," he commanded. "Yea, okay." He rounded the table, his eyes flickering to Faith and back. "You're coming because I want you to see something. I want you to see our brother."

"Sam? I thought he was dead."

"Sam didn't die in Detroit, he said yes." Dean's face had hardened as he spoke, watching his other self put the puzzle together.

"Yes? Wait, you mean--"

"That's right, the big yes, to the devil. Lucifer's wearing him to prom." Faith could see the sting of a future betrayal in her Dean's eyes.

"Why would he do that?" he asked, swallowing thickly.

"Wish I knew. But now we don't have a choice. It's in him, and its not getting out. And we've gotta kill him, Dean."

"Could you really do that? He's in your brother, Dean," Faith intercepted, her eyes not holding anything but sadness and empathy.

"I know, and believe me, I don't want to," he said, and Faith could see just how heartbroken he truly was, before he turned his eyes back to Past!Dean. "And you need to see it, the whole damn thing, how bad it gets, so you can do it different."

"What do you mean?" Past!Dean asked.

"Zach was gonna bring you back, right? To '09?"

"Yea."

"When you get home, you say yes. You hear me? Say yes to Michael."

"That's crazy. If I let him in, then Michael fights the devil. Battle's gonna torch half the planet."

"Look around you, man! Half the planet's better than no planet, which is what we have now! If I could do it over, I'd say yes in a heartbeat."

"So why don't you?"

"I've tried. I've shouted yes til I was blue in the face. The angels aren't listening; they just left, gave up. Its too late for me, but for you..." Future Dean was pleading for his past self to go and save a world he couldn't.

"Oh no, there's gotta be another way."

"Yea, that's what I thought. I was cocky, never actually thought I'd lose. But I was wrong. Dean, I was wrong. I'm begging you. Say yes." The two stared at each other for a moment as Dean's future self regained his composure. "But you won't. Because I didn't. Because that's just not us, is it?" he asked, rhetorically. Faith swallowed hard as she watched the both of them, the tension in the room so thick, she could barely breathe.

****************** "Dean," Faith called and ran to catch up with the future Dean, gently taking his arm. "Hey, talk to me." Finally, gaining his attention, she took his hand. "Dean, let me tell you something. On the other side of the fence, where I'm from originally, you know what happens when one of these big fish rise up? You and Sam beat it, but you never do it as two douchebag angels. You take care of it as Sam and Dean Winchester. The two most badass amazing men I've ever known. Dean, you can't give up on Sam. Believe me, I wouldn't want that in any time period."

"Faith, its too late. I've tried talking to him through Lucifer. He's either too far gone, or he's refusing to listen to me," Dean said, defeated. "Sam's gone, he's just gone." Faith sighed and gently hugged him, threading her fingers into his hair, inhaling his scent with a sympathetic frown. ********************** "There. Second floor window. We go in there," Future Dean directed, looking back at the small group behind him.

"You sure about this?" Risa asked, her brow arched.

"They'll never see us coming." Present Dean's brow furrowed as well as Faith's as they both watched him. "Trust me. Now, weapons check, we're on the move in five."

"Hey, Dean. Can we talk to you for a sec?" Faith asked, but knew he would know she wasn't really asking. Both Deans and Faith split off and turned to face each other."

"Tell us what's going on." Past Dean demanded.

"What?"

"I know you. You're lying to these people, and to us."

"Is that so?" Future Dean asked, shifting his weight.

"Yea. See, I know your lying expressions, I've seen them in the mirror. There's something you're not telling us."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Faith watched him closely and looked up at her version of Dean.

"Really? I don't seem to be the only member of your posse with questions, so maybe I'll just take my doubts over to them," Dean threatened and took a step in that direction.

"Okay. Whoa, whoa, wait."

"What?" Dean asked, stopping and turning to face him.

"Take a look around you, man. This place should be white-hot with Crotes. Where are they?"

"They cleared a path for us, which means that this is--"

"A trap, exactly.

"Then we can't go through the front."

"Oh, we're not. They are." Dean and Faith's gazes hardened. "They're the decoys. You two and I are going in through the back."

"You mean you're gonna feed your friends into a meat grinder? Cas too?" Future Dean's eyes fell, and Faith could tell he hated his plan. "You wanna use their deaths as a diversion." Future Dean turned his head to the side and clenched his jaw. Past Dean turned his eyes to Faith before going back to himself. "Oh man, something is broken in you. You're making decisions I would never make. I wouldn't sacrifice my friends."

"Dean, stop." Faith turned to face him. "You wouldn't because you haven't lost every single person that's ever meant anything to you. You still have Sam, and me, and Bobby, and you're not the one about to kill his brother in order to save the world. Look at him. Can you honestly say, you wouldn't be as heartbroken and tired of caring as he is?" Both Deans stared at each other. "He's lost everyone, Dean. Everyone." Future Dean licked his lips as he moved his eyes to Faith and set his hand on her shoulder.

"These people count on you," he said, his voice gentle. "They trust you."

"They trust me to kill the devil and save the world, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

"No, not like this, you're not. I'm not gonna let you."

"Oh really?"

"Yea."

"Dean, stop." Faith hissed, but Dean was already unconscious on the ground. She turned to face Future Dean. "Would you please quit doing that?" she asked, her voice trailing off as the future version of Dean stepped closer to her and cupped her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"Stay here, sweetheart. I can't lose you twice, and he's gonna need you. Like I did. And thank you, in advance. You were always there, even when I thought I didn't want you there. Just remember, you mean more to him than you think. He just doesn't realize it yet. Because I didn't. By God, I wish I had." He then swallowed thickly and smiled crookedly down at her before pressing his lips to her forehead in a tender kiss. "I love you, Faith. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. For everything, okay?" he asked, slowly backing away, and heading for the back once he was sure she'd stay.

Faith was in shock. She'd never expected Dean to say anything of an intimate nature to her. Taking a shaky breath, she forced her eyes down to the past version of the love of her life, even if he didn't know it yet. Slightly, she jumped at the sound of guns going off behind her. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she knelt down and caressed his cheek. "Forgive me, Dean. I love you," she whispered, then ran after the future version.

******************** When Dean came to, he expected Faith to be there beside him, but grew nervous when he found she was nowhere near him. Getting up, he rubbed his eyes and called out to her, only to receive no answer. Running around the back, he swallowed hard at the sight in front of him. Faith was horrifically still off to the side, while his future self struggled under the weight on his neck from a white shoe. He could then hear the sickening sound of bones breaking causing his future self to grow still and his eyes to close.

"Oh, hello Dean," Lucifer!Sam said, turning to face the other Dean, earning his attention as Dean turned his attention to Lucifer. "Aren't you a surprise? You've come a long way to see this, haven't you?" Lucifer asked, appearing behind him. Dean turned, the heartbreak evident in his eyes.

"Well, go ahead. Kill me."

"Kill you? Don't you think that'd be a little..redundant? I'm sorry. It must be painful speaking to me in this..shape. But it had to be your brother. It had to be," he said, going to place his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean stepped back out of reach. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Dean. What do you think I'm going to do?"

"I don't know, maybe deep-fry the planet?" Dean suggested, sarcastically.

"Why? Why would I want to destroy this stunning thing? Beautiful in a trillion different ways, the last perfect handiwork of God. Ever hear the story of how I fell from grace?"

"Good god, you're not gonna tell me a bedtime story, are you? My stomach is almost out of bile," Dean snarled, not wanting to listen to any more.

"You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him more than anything, and then God created you. The little hairless apes, and then he asked all of us to bow down before you, to love you more than him. And I said 'Father, I can't.' I said, 'These human beings are flawed, murderous'. And for that, God had Michael cast me into Hell. Now, tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right. Look what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it?"

"You're not fooling me, you know that? This sympathy-for-the-devil crap? I know what you are," Dean whispered, angrily.

"What am I?"

"You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I've been squashing my whole life. An ugly, evil, belly to the ground, supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you, is the size of your ego." Lucifer smirked.

"I like you, Dean. I get what the other angels see in you. Goodbye, we'll meet again soon." Dean took the opportunity and moved towards Faith, kneeling beside her and checking for a pulse before scooping her up into his arms and getting to his feet. "You better kill me now," Dean called after him. Lucifer stopped and turned, his brow furrowing.

"Pardon?"

"You better kill me now, or I swear I will find a way to kill you, and I won't stop."

"I know you won't. I know you won't say yes to Michael either, and I know you won't kill Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up, here. I win, so I win." Tears streamed down Dean's cheeks.

"You're wrong."

"See you in five years, Dean." Lightning flashed around Dean, and in Lucifer's departure arrived Zachariah, who placed two fingers upon Dean's head and set him back to his motel room. "Oh, well if it isn't the Ghost of Christmas Screw You," Dean commented and moved to lay Faith down on the bed. He covered her with his jacket and turned back to Zachariah.

"Enough, Dean, enough. You saw it, right? You saw what happens? You're the only one who can prove the devil wrong. Say yes."

"How do I know that this thing isn't one of your tricks, huh? Some angel hocus-pocus?" Dean growled.

"The time for tricks is over. Give yourself to Michael. Say yes and we can strike before Lucifer gets to Sam. Before billions die." Dean turned and his eyes moved to Faith. "Nah."

"'Nah'? You haven't learned your lesson?" Zachariah asked him.

"Oh I leaned a lesson, alright. Just not the one you wanted to teach."

"Well, I'll just have to teach it again, because I got you now, boy, and I'm never letting you--" Dean disappeared just then, and Faith smirked at Zachariah before she also disappeared. "Son of a..."

"Faith!" Dean called and helped the girl to stand. "You alright?" he asked, earning a nod.

"I will be. I just need to sleep and I'll be good to go." Dean nodded.

"We'll get a ride. Just gimme a minute, sweetheart. I'm just glad you're walkin and talkin." He smiled down at her before gently squeezing her shouder and turning to Castiel. "That's pretty nice timing, Cas."

"We had an appointment," the angel said, simply. "Don't ever change," Dean told him, his hand on the angel's shoulder. "How did Zachariah find you?" "Long story. Lets just stay away from Jehovah's Witnesses from now on, okay?" Dean asked, dialing Sam's number. "What are you doing?" "Something I should've done in the first place." ******************** "Hey, Dean. You okay?" Faith asked, sliding out of the back seat of the impala and coming to stand beside him, earning his attention and a warm smile. "Yea. How'd you sleep?" he asked. "Good, I feel better." Dean nodded and rubbed her back. "Good, you had me worried there for a minute."

"Nah, don't worry about me. I'll be okay. I'm with you, I'm safe." Dean smiled crookedly and leaned down and kissed her cheek softly. "I'm glad you're here, Faith, really. Thank you for staying close." Faith's cheeks tinted bright red as she cleared her throat. Dean turned at the sound of a car pulling up.

"I'll wait here, Dean. Go ahead, fix things with your brother." Leaning up, she kissed his cheek tenderly and gave his hand a gently squeeze. He winked at her, then went to meet his brother.

"Sam." Dean pulled the demon knife out and held it out to Sam. "If you're serious, you want back in, you should hang onto this. I'm sure you're rusty." The two of them sighed and took a beat. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I don't know whatever I need to be, but I was wrong." Sam nodded, his brow furrowed.

"What made you change your mind?"

"Long story. The point is maybe we are each other's Achilles' heel. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know we're all we got. More than that, we keep each other human."

"Thank you. Really, thank you. I won't let you down." "Oh I know it. I mean, you are the second best hunter on the planet." Faith laughed quietly, not far behind Dean.

"So, what do we do now?"

"We make our own future," Dean answered his brother.

"Guess we have no choice," Sam sighed, earning a nod before the two of them made their way back to the Impala. Faith stood and moved to Sam, hugging him tightly. "Hey, Faith," he said, smiling and hugging her back.

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

#dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfics #Supernatural #supernatural rewrite #supernatural 5x04 #sam winchester

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 4 years

Text

Knot In Love - Alpha!Dean x Omega! Reader

A/N: Part Thirteen is back. Again, where it’s a daily thing? I am not tagging anyone new. 3pm is the magical time, usually. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy one of my favorites <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Series Warnings: Forced mating. Knotting. Alpha/Omega dynamics. Witchcraft (more based on real craft than Hollywood). Angst. Etc. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: Roughly 3,800

“Y/N?” Castiel asked in confusion. He hadn't had time to learn about Dean's mate during the chaos that was Jack's birth.

“You're going to love her,” Dean enthused, on cloud nine as he drove. He'd said he needed a win. There was no better one than the man sitting in his back seat.

“She's been helping with Jack,” Sam spoke up. Helping out a bit, so it didn't seem as insane as it really was. “Dean kind of-”

“Marked her,” Dean finished for Sam. Almost proudly. Ignoring the fact that he'd been looking for a way to break the bond. Small details and all of that. “Without her permission, but all things considered-”

“You what?” Disbelief wasn't a strong enough word to explain the angel's tone. Yet, that's exactly what it was. “Dean, what were you thinking?”

“Heat of the moment,” The alpha shrugged, earning an eye roll from his brother. It was a piss poor answer and everyone knew it. The truth was, he hadn't had the control to stop it. But, he'd be damned if he admitted it there. “Anyways- you're going to love this. I go into a rut, right? And genius, here, decides to ask Jody for help. Turns out that she's Jody's niece. It's a real small world.”

“I don't see how you thought I'd love any of this.” The angel stated seriously, looking at his friend in worry.

“That's cause you don't have a sense of humor, Cas,” The older brother shot back. Using wit as a crutch to break it down. “Anyways, come to find out, she's a witch.”

“I'm still not laughing, Dean.” Was the very serious reply. “You mated a witch?” With that revelation came the next. “You left a witch with Jack?” The angel went into full father mode at the flip of a dime. “What were you thinking-”

“Dean left out the bit where it's not our traditional witch,” Sam chimed in, shooting his brother a scowl. It did no good. He was still practically dancing in his seat. Too upbeat by far. “More like a psychic than anything like Rowena. Still powerful, though.” The last bit was more of an after thought than anything.

“How do you figure that one? I know I called her a witch, but it isn't anything deep. Just wishful thinking on her part.” Dean didn't like the tone his brother had used. Almost as if in awe of what you could do. In his mind, he'd written you off as a herb loving hippie who claimed to be a witch. It was the easiest way to cope.

“She did a reading for me-”

“She what?” That time, it was the older Winchester who broke out that line. Looking almost betrayed. The angel in the back was busy looking at the ceiling. Asking his, yet again, missing father what he'd been left to deal with, mentally.

“I asked her to, Dean.” Sam answered easily. As if it was nothing to be ashamed of. And it wasn't. Yet, he wouldn't reveal the specifics. That had been meant for him, and him only. He wouldn't soil the gift you'd given.“She's the real deal. There's things she couldn't have known, but those cards-”

“A trick of the hands.” Dean grumbled, his mood turning sour. He didn't want to think about your power. That stuck a little too close to him given Billie's inclusion of your name. “A hell of a fast one, I'm sure.”

“Dean...All she did was pull the cards from the top of the deck. She talked to me while I shuffled, but...I...I watched. There was nothing.” That was somehow worse than the thought of you tricking Sam. It made you a threat. “There wasn't a trick. Then, there's the wind-”

“What wind?” Suddenly, the surly Dean was back in full force. Eyes blazing.

“She taught Jack how to whistle up a wind,” Sam didn't want to admit it by that point. However, he knew enough to know that it would fester to the breaking point if he didn't. You'd be on the receiving end. “She's not like Rowena...not even close, but Y/N...She's a witch.” It was a simple statement. “You mated a witch, Dean. And right now? That witch is teaching the son of Lucifer how to control himself.” Dean swallowed hard. “That's just... fact. You can't run away from it.”

“Watch me,” With that, his hand jerked over to the radio. Hitting the button so that the music ended the conversation without a hitch.

–

“I did it,” Jack laughed, staring at the pencil that he'd let fall on the ground. Cheeks no doubt aching from the sizable grin. “I really did it.”

“You did good,” Your answer was drawn out. The exhaustion never seemed to leave. “Why don't we take a break?”

Just like that, all cheer drained from the room, “Maybe you need to go to a doctor,” His worry was evident as he stared you down. Taking in just how weak you really were.

“I don't need a doctor, Jack.” You needed your mate. The one that you couldn't get a hold of due to your destroyed phone. “I'll just close my eyes a bit, okay?”

Your arms cushioned your head as they drifted shut. There was no theatrical wait. You were out in seconds.

Instead of it just being a bit, you slept against the table in the library for hours. Jack entertained himself with the laptop. He didn't even blink when he felt Dean approach. Simply stared at the screen, typing away.

“How'd it go?” He asked readily. Quiet enough that it wouldn't wake you.

“Well,” Dean spoke up, leading the way. Sam on his heels. Everything he'd been about to say faded as he caught side of you in the distance. You were too deep into the exhaustion to be awoken by the gaze. Your breathing was soft as you snuggled into your own arm.

“Jack, um...” Sam wasn't much better. But, it got Jack to look upwards.

“What's wrong?” He'd been around long enough to identify that tone. Something wasn't being said. Both men simply turned to the opening.

There, the man in the trench coat walked forward, “Hello, Jack.” His deep, rumbling voice sounded too familiar to ignore.

“Castiel?” His shoulders straightened out as he sat more upright. Processing the newest twist.

“Yeah, it's me.” The angel sighed out. Looking more than a little nervous at the reunion. Lip twitching as he took in the child he'd been so eager to meet.

“No.” Jack got to his feet. The slant to his body more than protective as he blocked the angel's view of you. “We burned your body...and what's burned stays dead.” It was a rule that had been drilled into his head repeatedly. “How...”

“Well, that's the question we've been asking,” Dean spoke up, loudly enough that you jarred upwards. Awake, though groggy. “Heya, sweetheart. Nice of you to join the party.” The rough hand caressed your cheek as you blinked into focus. He frowned a bit when he found the covering over your neck, but he didn't get a chance to ask.

“Jack...” Sam stepped forward, swallowing tightly. Instantly, you became more alert before locking eyes on the man with the blue eyes. He assessed you in the same manner, before turning to more important things. You didn't move your gaze. “Did you, uh...Did you bring Cas back?”

Your head whipped around to the boy. Understanding exactly what was happening, then. Jack had done the impossible.

“I don't know.” Came the weak answer. He looked almost pained as he revealed the truth that you'd already known. “I wanted him back.. I...begged for him to come back, but...”

“Well, here he is.” Dean stated as if it truly needed done.

“Because of me?” He sounded as if he didn't believe it. Bound to the floor in shock.

“We don't know...” Sam's voice was almost breathy as he spoke up. “We don't know, Jack.” He was still amazed beyond belief. “But, we...” He took a steadying inhale, hands pressed deep into the pockets of the tan hunter's coat, “we...we think. Maybe.”

“Intention is everything.” You felt the angel's eyes jump to you when the boy's did the same. Looking for the approval he craved. “I think you did it.” You were every bit the proud, glowing mother figure, then. Even with the shadowed eyes and torn up throat.

“Thank you, Jack.” All attention was turned back to where it belonged. Cas.

A tiny, twitch of the lip followed before Jack started moving forward, “I missed you so much.” He wrapped the angel in a hug that was returned as easily. Cas closed his eyes to savor the moment before the embrace ended. Their hands didn't quite pull away immediately, though. Too long and not long enough all at once. It was Jack who released the hold in the end. Uncertainty making itself known.

“Sam and Dean tell me you're doing well.” Castiel left his hand in place on Jack's shoulder.

“I am.” He nodded easily, eyes more than a little watery as he choked the words out past the emotions that were running rampant inside of him. “I...” A pleased little smile lined his lips as he pulled back, “Watch this.” He stepped away, then. Drawing all eyes back to the desk. Once there, his hand rested over the pencil. It levitated with ease, drawing different reactions from each man. You, however, were simply proud.

“Wow,” Sam muttered under his breath.

“I can move the pencil.” Jack beamed brightly. “And,” He sat down in his chair. “I found a case.” Everyone moved in closer, then. “Hunters case.”

“What kind of a-”

“Zombies!” Dean was cut off by the excited answer. Jack had fallen in love with the undead, so you weren't shocked by the interest this time around. Everyone stepped forward, looking to get in on what he was talking about. A whisper towards Cas and Sam followed, “I know what zombies are now.” Sam's eyes met yours and you gave a sheepish shrug. Someone had to teach the kid about the horror life, after all. It only seemed fitting that it be a witch. “You see?”

“Wait.” Dean spoke up again, leaving your body tense as a simple click pulled up the page he was looking for, “Where'd you learn to do that?”

“By watching you,” Jack answered easily, not bothering to look up. “And Sam...and Y/N.” Dean's hand squeezed your shoulder a bit, earning a warning glare from you. Telling him plainly that mate or not, he'd be beaten if he dared to cause Jack to question his newfound strengths. “Three days ago, a vintage pocket watch with a personal inscription was sold at a pawn shop. But, when they went to authenticate it, they found out that it had been buried with its owner.” He looked up to Sam. Hoping to see the glint of approval in the hazel eyes. “Twenty years ago.” Moving back to the screen, he continued. “And when they checked out the grave, it was empty.” That time Dean got the smile. “Which means,” A key was tapped. “The dead are rising in Dodge City, Kansas.” Goosebumps lifted on your skin.

When you looked up at your mate, however, all trepidation was gone. He fought back his grin for a minute. He really did. However, he failed.

“Right,” Sam began. “Or maybe it's a- a grave robbery.” The more logical answer was thrown out there. “But...”

“Oh,” Jack seemed almost disappointed at that. His mind had ignored that possibility.

“Yeah,” Dean's voice came out strong. “But, we should probably check it out.” You were gaining whiplash from jerking your head back and forth

“Wait...really?” It was the angel who spoke up that time. Jack didn't even look confused. Simply stunned that Dean had agreed with him. Your face wasn't much better.

“Yeah, we've done more on less.” Sam looked as if he'd fall over. “Besides, Dodge City's kind of, uh...kind of awesome.” It was your turn to make use of the Winchester bitch face. Castiel turned to Sam as if hoping he'd get an explanation there. He got nothing. “Alright, well...” You could feel Dean's excitement. So different from everything you'd felt from him before. He was on the move, then. “Two salty hunters, one half angel kid, a witch that isn't a witch,” Your eyes narrowed at that one. “And, a dude that just came back from the dead. Again.” Jack glee was brimming over. A nod of pleasure left Dean as he made it to the head of the group. Taking in his soldiers. His tongue came out to wet his lips as it was decided. “Team Free Will 2.0.” He grinned with a smile that near bowed you over. So carefree. Happy. “Here we go.” Your stomach knotted. Even with the good, something bad was coming.

“Dean!” You clambered to your feet. It was too late. He was gone. Whistling on his way to his room. You didn't have the energy to keep up with him. “Damn it.”

“You okay?” Sam turned to you. Motioning towards your neck. Asking what his brother had missed. Or perhaps even ignored.

“I was hoping that you could answer that,” With a small grunt, you exposed the oozing, raw meat that was hanging on top of the remains of the mark. Just enough still there to hold the connection in place. “What happened while you were gone?”

Your body was screaming at you to follow Dean. To reaffirm the bond. But, you couldn't bring yourself to sour his mood. Not just yet. That damned empathy holding you back.

“You're not going to like it,” The hunter sighed out. Pain etching his features. From both the memory and the wound.

“I can...heal that. If you'd like.” Your head jerked towards the angel. He was assessing you. Attempting to determine how much of a threat that you were. Or could grow to be.

“I...I don't think-”

“That'd be great!” Jack spoke up. Looking to the father figure he'd wanted back so very badly. Eyes gleaming in anticipation. “He can show me, Y/N.”

“How am I supposed to argue against that?” You sighed out. Hating the old student-teacher ploy. You'd rather stew in your own misery than have the guarded being touch you. But, it meant too much to Jack. “Thank you.” You sent an appreciative smile towards the angel. He simply stared at you as if you were something to be dissected. It was then you realized you couldn't get a read on him in the slightest. You didn't like it. Not one bit. You liked what Sam had to say even less.

“You're going to do something you shouldn't,” Jack stated as your body hit the doorway.

You weren't the only one who had a sense of what could happen in the world. The nephilim was quickly picking up and honing in on the skill. He'd known the second he'd watched your shadowy figure make its escape.

“I don't have a choice, Jack.” You didn't turn around, your basket dangling off of your arms. Afraid that your resolve would wither if you did. Something that you couldn't afford. Sam's story had tore you apart. Nearly as bad as the wound itself. Dean was off on his own, glowing in the turn around his life had become. Unaware of the damage outside of the bubble he'd created. “He didn't leave me with one, this entire time.”

“Because it's how it's supposed to be,” You clenched your eyes at that. Your body agreed. Even your mind understood it to an extent. Though, you certainly didn't want to believe it. “You two are-”

“Something bad is coming, Jack.” He didn't like that answer. Wasn't used to you cutting him down so easily. His ever present rippling emotions swarmed you. Worry. Guilt. “It's coming, and...and it's going to hit me like a train. I can feel it.”

Your mind wandered back to the scrying you'd done once everything had settled back down. You'd darkened the room you had taken up as your own. The crystal ball had rested against black cloth, on the simple stand you'd brought with you. Two candles illuminated the room. You gazed into the orb, waiting for the signs to appear. For your future to be told.

The crystal didn't give full visions. Not like people tended to expect. Instead, it gave its message in a colored cloud that nestled and writhed in the center. A mix of black, red, and grey had appeared. Bad items coming, danger, and ill fortune. You didn't get much darker than that.

You didn't know the specifics; didn't need to. The warning had been clear. You'd already almost died twice because of the mating. A third time was too much to risk.

“You're sure?” Concern coated his voice, tangled with uncertainty. He trusted your instincts. But his own were telling him that if you walked out that door, a mistake would be made.

“I've never been more sure of anything in my life,” You turned to Jack so that he could see your face. To try and encourage him to understand. The desperation in your eyes seared through him. He'd let you go. He didn't have a choice. “I've got to do this.”

“He's not going to be happy.” You knew that. For all his talk, Dean hadn't been prepared to act. Not even when your nails had ripped chunks of flesh from your body at his hands. You were certain there was no way he hadn't guessed. He'd chosen to ignore it. He was still too reckless. Too filled with that dangerous energy to protect himself. To protect you. No, as long as you were mated, you weren't safe. “Just...stay safe.”

“I'm trying,” You reached up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Every worry the boy possessed seemed to be radiating from his tense body. “I won't leave you. I promise.” Your thumb brushed against his shoulder in comfort.

“It's like you can read my mind, sometimes.” Jack gave you a soft little smile. Out of everyone, you seemed to understand him the most. He didn't know what he'd do if you ever left his side. “I don't know how I feel about that, honestly.”

“No one ever does,” With your own wicked little grin, you pointed out the obvious. “Joys of being a witch.” It faded away as the wind whipped the surface of the bunker. “Go relax, Jack. It's been a wild day...We're leaving early in the morning.” The order was filled with stress. The weather had your body practically vibrating. His concern only amplified it.

“I will when you're back,” His eyes told you that he'd be waiting. That he'd cover for you if you needed. With that, you yanked up the hood of your jacket and walked out, into the storm.

The energy was overwhelming. Exactly the thing you needed to harness. The bunker held too many wards for you to remain inside. Your mission was too important to risk it blocking your magic.

The familiar path was harsher in the wicked night. Each flash of a leaf drew your attention. As if it were trying to chase you back. You found your space a ways from the bunker, resting under a nest of trees to give you some relief from the rain. You'd built a small shelter over time. Branches weaved together out of love. Your own little private space.

There was no need for an alter. Intention was everything. And there was more than enough of that stewing inside of you.

You could have waited for the right moon phase. Could have followed through on a specific day. However, the unknown threat that rested over you commanded that you acted immediately. Simply trust in yourself. In your own abilities being enough. The hood left your head, and you set out to get to work.

The black candles were pulled out first. You had personally melted the wax down to create them for the very purpose you'd use them. A process that made it more personal. Cayenne aided in your venture. Separation was a specialty it carried. A pinch rested inside the wax. Waiting to break apart the binds holding you down.

Then, came the sharp piece of black obsidian. Smoothly shaped into an arrowhead. Perfect for amping up the power you carried within you. It was almost too strong. You didn't handle it often, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

On the first, your name was carved into the soft wax. As clear as you could get it on the dark night. On the second, Dean's name was etched. The black ribbon wrapped around both wide, but short candles. Just large enough to fit your names. Small enough to speed up the burning process. Ensuring it would be over with quickly. The ribbon rested across the belly of both; ensuring that it wouldn't be burned by the wick. A small space separated the two. Close, but with just enough room between them to work.

The match had no trouble catching on the small strands of string. “These two flames burn brightly together,” Your voice was strong as you called out into the storm. Despite the shake of your hand. “But, one consumes the other with this link between them.” You would be consumed. There were no doubts left. Even before you'd looked into the crystal ball, you'd known. “No more shall I suffer from the sadness brought by Dean.” Your eyes focused on the flames that burned was strong and billowed straight into the air. A sign it was working. “No more shall I be hurt by Dean.” Your hand rubbed against the mark at those words. The wounds may have been healed, but the emotional damage was still present. Snaking over the spell. “I sever my ties from thee.” The obsidian was lifted. Slicing through the ribbon with ease. Destroying the bond symbolically. For a moment, the flame seemed to lift higher.

Your body felt drained as you stared at the ongoing spell. The water in your eyes couldn't be denied. The soul was mourning the loss of what could have been.

Ordinarily, you'd have hated the idea of crying. Instead, you simply let them fall. Telling yourself that the salt water would aid in your protection...

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @michaelneedssomemilk @lemondropirwin @fanfictionismydeath @neii3n @surmya1907

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff @woodworthti666 @coldmuffinbanditshoe

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lilydalexf · 3 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Sarah Ellen Parsons

Sarah Ellen Parsons has 18 X-Files stories at Gossamer and 19 at AO3. If you want high quality fic with interesting characters, go read her stories. Some of my favorites of her fics are The Crouching Thing and My Constant Touchstone Who Makes Me A Whole Person (which are two very different stories!). Big thanks to Sarah Ellen for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

With today's binge-watching culture, I'm not at all surprised. You can watch a bunch of eps and then seek out fic that is where you are in the series.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

I took away a writer's group Yes, Virginia, that is still together. Mostly as friends, but whenever I write something, or someone else writes something, it's the first place we all run for machete beta. I have betad SO MANY novels.

We have a number of folks who are published writers since then and our time in X-Files fic brought us lifelong friendships IRL and made us all better at our craft. The majority of those folks were better writers than I am. And I make my living as a writer in my day-job.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I belonged to a couple of the largest lists and posted there and bitched about the show on usenet with everyone else. We had our own Yahoo group for beta. We all had crappy GeoCities websites that we programmed the HTML for ourselves and hooked through various fandom link circles to get traffic to our stories. But the main method of distribution was the lists.

Fun fact, I found a free page counter thing that I used at work one time through fandom. So fandom pays off in skillz.

Even without social media, we managed to get our stories in front of readers who would enjoy them. Where there's a will, there's always someone ready to step up and find a way.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Again, I have lifelong friends IRL that I got solely from fanfiction. That's the best takeaway.

Fandom disappointed me because it, like everything else, is ruined by people's egos, backstabbing, and petty people who get in positions of power and then use those positions to punch down or dictate. I was young when I was writing X-Files and I still had hope that people would rise to their better natures, so I got involved in various futile efforts to try to make people behave the way I wanted them to behave, I guess. I did a lot of public bitching that didn't serve me or my friends well. I now put that effort into politics, where it does actual good.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

X-files was made for me. It combined science fiction, mystery, horror. I love all of those genres. Plus there was Scully. No matter how sexist that writer's room was, Scully was awesome. But you kept seeing bad writing. Even in the heyday seasons, like Season 3, there were really terrible eps that made you want to fix things.

I'm a lifelong speculative fiction fan and a published feminist science fiction author. I actually was published before I fell down the fic hole. I got involved in fanfic due to getting my fantasy novel turned down from every major publisher for being "too dark". And I needed to get readers to see my stuff to prove to myself that I wasn't terrible at writing. I got a ton of feedback and it was like market research to see what people wanted to read.

My time in fanfiction made me 100% a better writer than I was.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I went to the X-Files Expo to see if I could make contact with someone from Harper Collins because the tie-in novels sucked so hard. I got rejected with my pitch as I didn't have a literary agent.

Around that time, a pal who I watched X-Files with IRL was looking for a free X-files wallpaper for her work computer when she found the website where fans in Pennsylvania had fic archived. She read some and wrote to me - "you need to see this, and you can do better." So I started reading and was.... I probably CAN do better. So I wrote The Batman Plot. And made two friends I'm still friends with with that one story.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Nonexistent. I couldn't even watch the latest season and I saw only 2 of season one of whatever that was before I gave up. I have never watched the second movie.

X-files is my first fandom bad ex-husband. I loved it SO MUCH, but it betrayed me.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I was deep into Harry Potter for a while, but I didn't end up publishing anything in it. All my stories were novel-length and I was writing so much for work, I never completed anything. I called Snape/Lily when Prisoner of Azkaban was published and got Jossed by Rowling in one of my big ideas. (This is bad fandom ex-husband 2. JKR will never get a dime of money from me again because of her hateful stance on transfolk. I have RL friends who are trans and NO.)

I wrote fic in Supernatural. It was the obvious next thing after X-Files. However, the misogyny and bringing in all the Angel/Devil Christofascist stuff lost me. The ep where they declared all other religions other than Christianity as invalid and killed a Hindu god made me stop watching for good. I know enough Christofascists IRL that I can't tolerate it in my fiction. (Bad fandom ex-husband 3)

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

This list is far too long to actually make. But characters I spent time writing about include: Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Co. (I wrote three unpublished Star Trek novels before I found online fandom). King Arthur and Morgan Le Fay, Sherlock Holmes (I wrote a Sherlock Holmes play after seeing "Crucifer of Blood" and entered it in a national competition, where I got very nice comments back.), Mulder, Scully and Krycek, Rowling's Hermione and Snape (like him or not, its masterful characterization), Dean and Sam Winchester, John Winchester and Bobby Singer. I wrote one comedy story starring Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A couple of Roswell stories under a different name. Catwoman and Batman. I have some unpublished Avengers fanfic lying around as I'm an OG Marvel fan with a massive comic collection.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I was on a business trip a few years ago and FX had a marathon and I watched part of it when I was in my hotel room. Early seasons are comforting, but I don't go back there now.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I don't read X-Files fic anymore. I read a tiny bit of Star Wars after the second movie because Rian Johnson had it right. Now I don't care. I love Mandalorian, but am content to watch.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Too many to count. All of YV. Which reminds me, I need to go update our entry at Fanlore. I promised Punk I'd do it a while back. I need to at least get everyone linked. Right now it's only Punk and Sab.

But it was a ton of us. Marasmus, Maria Nicole, Cofax, CazQ, M. Sebasky, Livia Balaban, Kelly Keil, Wen, Ropobop, Jess Mabe, JET, fialka, and a bunch of others that I can't remember their fic names any more, just their real names because I know them all IRL. I need to go back and look up their fic names and link them up there.

In addition to my little group of pals, I loved reading Mustang Sally and Rivka T, Rachel Anton - I keep trying to find her to encourage her to write romance if she's not doing it already, but no dice, Dasha K., Anjou, there were so many great ones, but their names have slipped my mind in the past 20 years.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I'm most known for Prone, and I'm proud of that story for all kinds of reasons, but I think my very best is The Crouching Thing.

I mostly didn't publish anything I didn't think was good and hadn't been machete betaed within an inch of its life, but I'm not sure much of the angsty romance stuff holds up as well. I think it worked when the show was still ON and we were all in that emotional headspace, but probably not now.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Funny you ask. I am currently reworking a plot idea I had for an X-Files fic into a contemporary M/M novel, which I will publish under a different pen-name. The plot is the idea I had for X-Files, the characters are very, very different other than one is uptight and the other more easy-going. But no more Mulder and Scully.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I have been making my living as a writer for 25 years. I write the word count equivalent of 5 Tolkein novels a year, just for my day-job. I am turning back to original fiction, which is where I was before X-Files. I'm working on the M/M thing, a high fantasy thing, a low fantasy historical thing and a bunch of M/F Regency romances as I get time and energy. I publish Fantasy and SF under my real name. Romance has pen names as you don't want that getting back to your workplace, either.

SEP is fic only and here she will stay.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I have too many ideas to count. I try to write them down when they come, so I won't forget. At least the outline of the idea. Often a scene. I've been like this my entire life. I started writing novels seriously at 15. I wrote a 500 plus page one about Morgan Le Fay during breaks in high school because "Mists of Avalon" pissed me off so bad as I'd read the original source material and that was a Wicca recruitment polemic.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Sarah Ellen was my great-grandma, Parsons was her grandma's last name.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

Half my friends ARE fic friends. Most of my friends know as does my brother, who thinks writing for free is dumb. This is universally agreed on by non-fic friends who know. My mother still doesn't know about the fic. Just the "real" writing. I write under a pen name to keep it away from my job and my published work.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

My X-files stuff is up on Gossamer mostly. I'm trying to get the stories all moved to AO3 for all the genres. I'm working on this now. SEP is really not a living thing anymore, but there was a time when she was more me than me.

If you want to find my "real" non-fic writing, write to me at se_parsons at yahoo dot com and I will point you at it.

And PLEASE someone, hunt down Rachel Anton and get her writing something we all can BUY. Where are my old Krycek bitches at? Do any of you know where she is? [Lilydale note: I’ve tried contacting Rachel Anton for this Old School X project but have not had luck. I would love to find her too!]

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

The community I loved has mostly moved on, but I think we left a legacy of solid work crafted out of our love for the show. Find a living community you love for a show you love. There are great people out there creating and get involved. It will be worth it.

(Posted by Lilydale on December 15, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #sarah ellen parsons

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alleycat97 · 3 years

Text

My Personal Star

With Every Heartbeat

This book killed me, and I know it did you guys as well. But be prepared for some Dakota x Mc spam, this is a different take however with my own character after Dakota passes. Please enjoy.

F!dakota x Mc

Tag list: @samanthadalton @fundamentalromantic anyone else hmu, still new to this story so I’ll include others in future work.

“Live a life worth watching.”

Sage repeated that phrase every morning when she woke up. It was her motivation, it was her inspiration, she did it because Dakota wanted her too. But in the moment, it seemed simple to agree to, but without her rock beside her, Sage found it hard to keep living the life Dakota wanted her to.

She was never alone in this fight, she had Lennox and Mateo and the Winchester’s. But being across the country made it difficult to reach them most of the time.

Sage chose California because of Dakota, and that small glimmer of hope that would allow her to follow her dreams fell short when Dakota passed. But she went anyway, for her.

It wasn’t easy at all, she was alone in a different fight, and that was fitting in. Once she settled in, she was all by herself, no matter how many calls, group texts or video calls she answered, she remembered what Dakota told her that night after Mateo got released,

“When he was here, I could just sneak into his room when I was going through stuff. He knew what to do because he was dealing with the same, and now he’s gone and I’m alone.”

And then Sage knew what Dakota truly meant. She was alone with her feelings and that was never good.

Sage followed through on her promise to Dakota and decided to take on acting school along with her normal academics. It was the only way to keep her mind occupied. She soon found herself to be a natural and a force at acting, and all thanks to Dakota. She really opened up Sage and taught her to be a new version of herself, she just brought the best out of her.

LA kept Sage occupied and the only time she returned home was at Christmas. She had spent the previous 3 with her mother, Mateo, Lennox and The Winchester’s. They never lost touch with Sage and she was forever grateful to have them.

This Christmas was different however, Sage had finished her schooling early and officially graduated from both. So this Christmas was both that and her graduation party.

“We’re all very proud of you sweetie!” Her mother cheered out.

“It’s so crazy to think how far we’ve all come.” Mateo called out.

“Yeah yeah, more mushy stuff.” Lennox joined in typical fashion. Somethings didn’t change.

As the evening was winding up, Dakota’s parents handed Sage a gift.

“You guys didn’t have to...” Sage insisted.

“Well, we didn’t.” Mr. Winchester spoke.

“What do you mean?” Sage asked confused.

“Check the tag sweetie.” Mrs. Winchester said looping her arm around her husband.

Sage did as instructed and nearly fell over.

“What is it Sage?” Mateo ask bouncing in anticipation.

“Yeah who’s it from?” Lennox sighed.

“It’s from...Dakota? I...I don’t understand?”

“Please dear open it.” The couple asked. “Then we will explain.”

“Open it dummy!” Lennox yelled.

“Ok....”

Sage opened the box to reveal a Dakota’s script, trophy and original movie for Dark Pact. Showing everyone.

“Before Dakota passed, she had us promise that you would get these when the time was right. She said it would be ‘your big break in Hollywood’ so please, these are yours now.”

So many emotions came back and hit Sage like a train, even after all these years, Dakota was still looking out for her. “I’ll make you proud.” She whispered as she group hugged everyone.

...

It had been 10 years since that Christmas. 10 years of crying, 10 years of hard work and sleepless nights. 10 years of low budget living and an intense resume is blockbuster films she’s starred in. 10 years had come and gone and after 10 years, Dark Pact was finished.

It took 10 years of her life to finish Dakota’s dream. A dream she wouldn’t dare let anyone else manipulate other than Nolan Grant. He helped Sage tremendously with the film and of course Sage reprised her role as Eleanor. She even offered the ghost roles to Mateo and Lennox who gladly accepted.

She bet everything, and spent every dime to her name on this movie and it took its toll on her. It was emotional every step, not seeing Dakota behind the camera, giving her advice, helping her set scenes and edit. It was difficult. Between other jobs and working on Dark Pact, she had no interest or time for a love life.

Except for one person in particular, a new actress Nolan suggested to play ‘Harper’ a girl that was possessed by a ghost and killed Eleanor, starting her torturing and long adventure of ghost fighting.

Her name was Darci and she was an imposing figure as Sage stepped into the studio. Darci was being interviewed by some low budget pictagram vlogger when both girls met eyes.

Darci smiled and her brown eyes flashed towards Sage. Sage couldn’t help but feel deja vu, as she approached the girl who was nearly a head taller than she. Darci flipped her hair and rain her hand through it greeting Sage. “Hi, I’m Darci Weathers, pleased to meet you.”

Sage just stood still in her own world as she saw her first day of senior year all over again. The exact moment she met Dakota, happened just like this. And Sage got scared and ran, blowing Darci off.

“Hey!” Darci chased after her. “Wait up!”

Sage ran to her dressing room to cry, the memory too great to fathom. Darci barged right in and stopped embarrassed for the intrusion,

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Darci said kneeling down to Sage.

“It’s not you. Can you...please give me a moment?” Sage asked.

“Sure.”

Having Darci around wasn’t going to be easy but the girl was a natural at acting and even had good ideas to help improve. She was just like Dakota and that’s what scared Sage the most.

She found herself opening up to Darci slowly, mainly for the sake of film chemistry but soon found herself hanging with her regularly. She took the time to learn about the girl and her passions, she wanted to be a producer, what a shock. But she was also the most sweet, most caring person. She didn’t take no for an answer and was determined. She was, just like Dakota....

Sage knew she couldn’t hide the truth from Darci forever and just like Dakota did, she eased into her history with the girl, hopefully to not overwhelm her. Darci took her time as Sage was still afraid to commit.

The after party to Dark Pact had been going on and after several tear jerking interviews later, Sage found herself dancing with Darci. Whether it was the drinks or Darci, Sage found herself kissing the girl all the way home and into her bed. It had been 14 years since she was this intimate with anyone and as soon as Darci dropped her dress, Sage checked out. The memory of her first and only time with Dakota flooded her mind.

“Seriously?” Darci protested.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this, I’m not ready.” Sage said running from the room, not listening to the angry shouts coming from Darci who followed her into the bathroom.

Sage fell to the bathroom floor and had flipped a switch, “Get away from me.”

“Come on Sage, let me in.” Darci pleaded.

“No! Go away and never come back!”

“But...I wanna help.”

“You can’t help me! Nobody can!” Sage screamed. “You have no idea what it’s like to have your heart spoken for and then ripped out.”

“Well...”

“Get out!” Sage screamed for the last time. This time sending Darci packing.

It had been days since Sage came out of her apartment. 14 years had passed, 14 years since Dakota had left her and here she was. Back to square one. She shut everyone out including Darci. This was a battle she was going to have to face herself.

She caught a plane back to Boston and headed for a place she hasn’t visited in nearly a decade. Dakota’s grave. It was dark when she got there, but she didn’t care, she sat down on the wet dew and stared at Dakota’s headstone.

“Hey.” She started. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve come to see you. I was afraid. And I know you taught me to be better than that but when you left us, my world came tumbling down. I’ve tried to cope with all of this and I knew it would be difficult. I just love you so much and it kills me everyday that you’re not with me.”

Sage tried to control her tears as she looked to the night sky, “I know you’re up there watching me right now. And I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you. I’m trying down here, we turned your movie into a box office hit. I know you were there to see it but I wish I could have seen your face.”

She took a deep breath as she leaned into the headstone, “Anyway, I’ve met this girl. And Dakota Winchester I swear she is your twin and reminds me so much of you it scares me. The way she encourages me, lightens up my day. The smiles she gives. Oh! She even does that hair thing you did with you hand. It’s just I gave you my entire heart and I know I promised you I would date others but you were my first. That hasn’t been easy to forget. This isn’t my final goodbye, I’ll never ever forget you and the love we shared. I just want a sign, anything to know that you’re ok with me moving on.”

Sage sat for a few moments hoping for a miracle, when she about gave up, the wind picked up and Sage looked to the stars, catching one blinking in the night sky.

“Thank you, I love you so much.”

With her battle behind her flew back to LA to find Darci.

“Sage? What are you doing here? It’s late?”

“Will you move in with me?”

“What!?” Darci asked.

“I want you to move in with me. I’m sorry about the other day I just...needed to find closure.”

“I understand. If you had just talked to me about this.”

“I know Darci and I’m sorry. I loved Dakota with my entire heart. When she left she took my heart with her but after some soul searching I think I’m finally ready to move on, and that’s with you because I realized I’m in love with you.” Sage gasped as she realized what she just admitted.

“I’m in love with you to.” Darci smiled back kissing Sage.

Sage got her closure and her heart back, however she kept just a small bit for Dakota because this crazy life would not have happened without her. So as Darci and Sage enjoyed their balcony out in the country side, they could enjoy themselves and be at peace.

“So how are we going to wrap up this trilogy?” Darci asked showing Sage some of her storyboards. We can do whatever you want.”

Sage smiled at Darci’s hard work, this time thinking back to to the computer lab when Dakota taught her what a storyboard was.

“I like this one.” Sage said looking to the night sky once again, looking for Dakota. “What do you think?”

Darci crawled onto the chair with Sage looking into the sky, “Which one is Dakota?”

Sage caught the flashing star and pointed so Darci could see, “That’s her, the flashing one.”

“She’s beautiful.” Darci said I’m awe.

“She sure is. Present tense.”

“You’ve got your own personal star.” Darci said kissing Sage who returned it with love.

“Correction, I’ve got two personal stars.”

#playchoices #pixelberry #WEH #with every heartbeat #Sage woods #Sage x Dakota #dakota winchester #dakota x mc #f!dakota

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waywardnerd67 · 4 years

Text

Worth the Whiskey

Summary: Dying with the Mark of Cain changed Dean Winchester. Now parading off with Crowley, the one person who could get him to listen to reason shows back up in his life. But is seeing her enough to make him play nice? Characters: Demon!Dean Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader (past) Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count: 1256 Prompt: “There’s no point running.” A/N: This is for @crashdevlin Cassie’s 3K Review-abration. Song featured in fic is “Ain’t Worth the Whiskey” by Cole Swindell.

Dean winked at the pretty little waitress who poured him another shot of whiskey. The beautiful shade of pink spread across her cheeks making the corner of his lips curl into smirk.

“Thanks sweetheart.”

His attention turned back to the poor sap on stage shouting the lyrics to Bon Jovi’s ‘Living on a Prayer’. Downing the shot in front of him, Dean grabbed signaled for another one carrying it up on stage with him. He told the DJ what song he wanted and stood up to the mic. He was feeling nostalgic for some reason and recently heard a sound that resonated with him. Well… with the old him.

“I don't care that you done me wrong. 'Cause I've already moved on. I don't care what his name is. Girl it is what it is. I won't waste a dime or the bartenders time. Trying to catch a buzz over the thought of us.”

His baritone voice flowed through the speakers surprising a few of the regulars that had heard him up on that very stage before. No, tonight there was a little more effort in his song choice. The last remaining feelings that clung to his stone cold heart coming out from his mouth.

“But I'll drink to a country song. To another long work week gone. And I'll raise my glass to a long lost buddy I ain't seen. I might stay for one more round or I might close this place down. But don't think for a second I'm out to drown your memory. Baby you ain't worth the whiskey.”

He closed his eyes, the image of her materializing. Her beautiful (Y/C/H) hair and brilliant (Y/C/E) eyes that always saw past his bullshit. His hands caressing the mic stand like it was every perfect curve of her body.

“It don't matter what your friends say. They never liked me anyway, so if they see me drunk in this bar. It ain't over a broken heart. 'Cause I'm drinkin' to a country song. To another long work week gone. And I'm raisin my glass to a long lost buddy I ain't seen. I might stay for one more round or I might close this place down. But don't think for a second I'm out to drown your memory. Baby you ain't worth the whiskey.”

As if his mind conjured the very image from his mind, Dean opened his eyes to see her standing at the bar. Her eyes piercing through what little of a soul he had left. The same black leather jacket he gave to her clung to around her body. He sang out the last bit of the song dedicated just to her.

“I might stay for one more round. Hell, I might close this place down but don't think for a second I'm out to drown your memory. No don't think for one second I'm out to drown your memory. Girl, you ain't worth the whiskey. No, baby you ain't worth the whiskey.”

He downed the shot of whiskey he held as she smirked walking towards the stage. Dean set the shot glass on the speaker as he walked off the stage towards the back hallway. If she were a mirage then he did not have to worry about her following him. On the chance she was really here after all these years then he needed to get as far away as he could. Maybe Crowley would want to meet up in another town on the other side of the country.

“There’s no point running.”

Her velvety smooth voice stopped him in his tracks. Turning to face her he flashed his best shit eat grin, “Well, well what brings a respectable, normal girl like you to the likes of this low life establishment?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “You know exactly why I’m here. Sam called me and figured I’m the only one who could knock some sense into your dumb demon ass.”

For a moment fiery rage followed throughout his veins and the mark burned on his arm, “I’d watched what you say sweetheart. I won’t hesitate to hurt you.” His hand twitched towards the vibrating bone blade resting at his lower back.

“Awe, don’t tease a girl with a good time if you’re not willing to fulfill that promise. Me, on the other hand, can promise you all kinds of fun once you’re in these.” She held up the demon cuffs courtesy of his little brother.

He chuckled walking towards her, “You’ve been out of the game too long to wrestle with the likes of me. I’m not just a low life demon. I’m a Knight of Hell baby.”

He flashed his coal black eyes at her to get her to flinch. When she stepped closer to him not even reacting to his new dark eyes, Dean knew he was in a world of trouble.

She snaked her hand up into his hair pulling it roughly, “Oh pretty boy if you only knew what I’ve been doing with my time. Knight of Hell, cute. Try an Archangel of the Lord.”

Dean’s eyes widened as her dark shadowy wings branched out from her shoulders and blinding light surrounded them. All the years they had hunted together, slept together and he never knew.

“H-How… Did you keep this from me? From Sam and Cas?”

She smiled, “I’ll tell you all about my orders from Heaven after you’re a good little Knight of Hell and put the cuffs on.”

The mark burned hotter against his skin and the donkey jaw was shaking violently. He shoved her grabbing his weapon and narrowing his black eyes at her.

“I don’t think so sweetheart.”

She tilted her head to the side with a grin, “Fine. Have it your way.”

***

Dean’s eyes slowly opened as his head throbbed. Trying to move his arms or legs finding they were bound to a chair. He looked around the familiar dungeon that hid away in the Men of Letters bunker. He could still feel the mark’s power flowing through his veins and the darkness of succumbing to the mark still resting within him.

Looking up he found Sam with his arm in a sling, Cas looking exhausted and (Y/N) casually sitting at a table with her boot covered feet resting on the top of it.

“I don’t remember RSVPing to a reunion. Hiya Sammy.”

(Y/N) got up walking towards him and sitting across his lap, “The reunion is yet to come. Sam is going to perform the cleansing ritual and you’re going to allow him too.”

“Oh I am? Please do tell me, why am I going to let him turn me back into some pathetic, weak human again?” He bared his teeth at her as his eyes slowly turned to black.

She leaned in brushing her nose against his, “Because if not then I’m going to smite your demon ass into dust. If you think I’m joking then ask Castiel how I’ve been spending my time away from you.”

He growled as she got up walking past Sam and Cas but stopping at the door. “I want my Dean back so I can tell him the truth. If my Dean is truly lost to this world then your meatsuit means nothing to me. I will search all of Hell and Heaven to get my Dean back.”

He watched her walk out of the room and a small pang of heartache sparked a light in the pit of darkness consuming his soul.

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unforth · 4 years

Note

Bakery owner!dean, hungry endverse!cas

I wanted to warn you this ended up having a brief mention of John Winchester’s A+ Parenting. Am I misremembering that you’re actually kind of a John fan? Sorry about that...it’s largely incidental, fwiw. Also, this got kinda long, and I’m not sorry.

Also, mentions of drug use, and a mildly dub con kiss (there’s not explicit consent before hand)

Fuck, but it had been a long day. Exhausted, Dean finished consolidating all the garbages into one ginormous bag, hefted it over his shoulder, and carried it out the back door. The alley behind his bakery was as repulsive as always: reeking, with puddles best left unexamined, and a handful of rats skittering into the shadows. Ignoring them - but making sure the door was shut behind him - Dean strode to the dumpster and swung the bag atop it. An explosion of fetor burst outward as the new weight atop the garbage forced air from the bags beneath.

Ugh.

This bullshit was why Dean always saved taking the garbage out for last. He didn’t want to touch a single damn thing in his bakery after interacting with the alley. Heck, he didn’t even want to walk on his floor - that’s why he mopped before he closed and before he opened.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

Grumbling under his breath, Dean stomped back toward his door. Something squished underfoot, and before Dean could look - before Dean could convince himself not to look under any fucking circumstances - and aggrieved voice protested, “Watch where you’re stepping, dickfuck.”

“Sorry,” said Dean, sincere, as he realized that the squishy thing was an arm, belonging to a scruffy homeless dude who’d been sleeping in what Dean had mistaken for a pile of recycling. “What’s a dickfuck, anyway?”

“You are,” the man said sourly. “No screw off and let me sleep.” He was filthy, his face covered in dirt, his hair matted, his clothing in rags that didn’t conceal his emaciated figure.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dean replied. The man glowered and tugged a dilapidated box over his face. “Sleep well, asshole.”

And Dean went back into the bakery.

He wiped his feet on the entry mat.

He washed his hands in the sink.

He looked with contentment at everything he’d built, shut down for the night after another successful, if exhausting day.

His wandering gaze spotted the basket of “day olds” that he’d repackaged to sell at half-price the next morning.

An image of the gaunt, dirty man sleeping in the alley floated through his memory.

Selling his excess at a discount helped him keep the business afloat and meant he didn’t waste ingredients; that said, it also weirdly cost him money, because the customers who checked the “day olds” would, if they found nothing to their taste, usually opt for a pastry at full price instead.

So...if it wouldn’t really cost him much, if anything, to give the baked goods to someone in need.

Nodding as he made up his mind, Dean took up the entire basket - a half-dozen cookies, a loaf of bed, and two scones, not the most nutritious selection but when the alternative was “no food,” well, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Not that alley dude had begged.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hungry. He sure as fuck had looked hungry. Heading out the front door, Dean locked up and carried the basket around the block with him, returning to the back alley. The pile of boxes still looked like recycling, but alley dude’s fingers still poked out. Setting the basket down beside him, Dean lifted the limp hand and set it on the baked goods. No need to wake the guy up again. He could find the bounty later, and do with it as he would.

Chest glowing with that Good Samaritan feel, Dean headed home with a bounce in his step.

Maybe he should make this a regular thing - stop selling his “day olds” and donate them instead...

Dean hoisted the day’s garbage into the dumpster, turned to walk back to his back door, and stopped. Alley guy sat amidst his boxes, looking like some weird cardboard golem. Dean’s basket was sitting on the back stoop. Embarrassed, Dean looked away and scowled. He’d not given the food expecting thanks. Alley guy had never been there before; Dean had assumed he’d never be there again. Fuck, but seeing the dude was just awkward. Ignoring him as best he could, Dean walked by, took up his basket, opened his door, and--

“Hey, dickfuck - I’m allergic to dairy,” grumbled alley guy. “So, thanks for nothing, I guess.”

Opting not to turn around, Dean shrugged and said to his graffitied door, “eh, it’s not like you asked for that shit. You weren’t obligated to thank me, or to eat it. Hope you paid it forward, though.”

“Oh, yeah...cause I got so many friends or some shit. But yeah, the rats loved the crumbs. You dickfuck.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean walked back into the business. That’s what he got for trying to do a good deed. What a goddamn waste.

Still, the charity he’d e-mailed about donations hadn’t gotten back to him yet, and he had a baguette in the resale bin...grabbing it, Dean used a red pen to emphatically circled the ingredient list, went to the cooler and took a bottle of water, and poked his head back into the alley.

“Hey,” he said. Alley guy jerked around to stare at him. “Dairy free, asshole.” Dean threw the two toward alley guy, who snatched them from the air with surprising dexterity. “Any other allergies you wanna warn me about?”

“Manners,” alley guy replied flatly. “That gonna be a problem?”

“Pfft, like I care what the fuck you say or do,” Dean scoffed. “But if you die back here, I’m the one who’s gonna have to deal with the cops. Like I wanna talk to those SOBs over your mangy ass? No way. So, eat up.”

And before alley guy could reply, Dean went back inside, locking the door behind him.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any hummus in there?”

“Buy your own.”

Over the days that followed, Dean and alley guy developed a weird rapport.

“You know your food is garbage.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Alley guy was abrasive, sardonic, and irreverent. In any other circumstances, Dean would want to deck him in the face, but his perpetual rudeness despite his dire circumstances was weirdly...endearing. It seemed a bizarre form of self-preservation, a show of strength that the man would sass him. Dean was willing to bet, oh, a fuckton, that his thinking so was a sign of his own stereotypes about the homeless - it’s not like losing their houses reduced them to personality-less manikins or some shit - but still, alley guy’s bullshit, and that Dean could give back as good as he got after kowtowing to all the crap that customers pulled on the daily, was refreshing.

“...did you figure out a dairy free quiche recipe just for me?”

“Why the fuck would I do that? New recipes are for paying customers.”

Dean totally expanded his knowledge of dairy-free cooking for alley guy’s sake.

“Ya know, you really don’t have to keep feeding me...”

“You leave, I stop.”

And despite his expectations that alley guy would leave...he never did. And occasionally, when Dean looked back, it would be to see yellowed teeth revealed as pink lips spread in a broad grin, and blue eyes sparkling, and an expression rife with all the appreciation that alley guy couldn’t express and Dean didn’t want to hear anyway.

Alley guy’s cheeks had some flesh on them again, too.

Seeing him - smiling, and appreciative, and douchey, and healthier - felt good.

Dean was gonna buy him a fucking toothbrush.

“Hey dickfuck - I’m not your charity case, you know,” grumbled alley guy, sniffing suspiciously at the crisco-crust pie Dean had brought out, along with a plastic fork and bottle of water.

“No fucking duh,” said Dean, rolling his eyes. “You’re a strong, independent man who can leave anytime you wanted.”

“...no, I’m a useless, broke, jobless, homeless drifter with PTSD and not even enough money for a dime bag...and I could leave anytime I want.”

“Well, glad we sorted that out.”

“Yeah.”

“My name is Dean, by the way.”

“Oh?”

“Not dickfuck.”

“Bullshit,” retorted alley guy. “Your mama absolutely took one look at your dick face and wrote ‘dickfuck’ on your birth certificate.”

Flinching despite himself, Dean grimaced. He should let it roll off his back. There’s no way that alley guy could know he’d poked a sore spot, and no reason alley guy would care if he did know. And yet...some jokes hurt, and somehow Dean couldn’t escape the feeling that alley guy wouldn’t want Dean to actually be upset. Maybe that was reading way too much into their pseudo-relationship, but...

“Hey, yo, call me whatever the fuck you want, but don’t diss my mama, okay?”

“Aww, yas, gotta love the whiff of toxic masculinity that comes out when someone shits on mom.”

“She died when I was 4.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Channeling his upset into a glare - I will not cry in front of alley guy, not gonna do it, not gonna do it - Dean headed back to his back door. “Oh. Thanks for the shitty memories, asswipe.”

Throwing the door open, he stepped in, expecting at any moment for alley guy to say something even more dickish, but there was only silence, until--

“I’m Cas,” alley guy called.

Catching the door a moment before it shut behind him, Dean tossed it open wide, stepped into the opening, and caught it with a hand. Alley guy was eating the cupcake, frosting smeared over his lips, and he offered Dean a disgusting, crumby smile.

“Sorry I’m a fuckwad.”

“No, you’re not,” grumbled Dean.

“...yeah, okay, usually you’re right. Usually, I’m not even a little sorry I’m a fuckwad. But I am sorry about your mom, dickfuck. Dean. If I’d known it was a sensitive topic I’d have made fun of your dad, instead.”

“You do that,” Dean said, quirking his lips in a half-smile. “Dad’s an alcoholic son of a bitch - with all possible insult to my grandma intended - and if he’d a known I’d grow up to be some pansy-ass baker, he’d have named me dickfuck, not that ma woulda let him.”

“Your dad’s a fucker,” said alley guy...Cas...solemnly.

“Cheers to that,” agreed Dean. “See you tomorrow?”

Dean expected a quick riposte, a nasty reply, a joke and a shrug to break the seriousness they’d unexpectedly descended into. Instead, Cas gave him a funny look, and said in an equally odd tone of voice, “yeah...yeah, I guess you will.”

Shaking his head, Dean retreated into his business.

What a weird fucking guy.

“Dean, I was wondering...you give me all this shit...is there anything I could do for you in return? Odd jobs? Mobsters you need driven from the premises? I’m handy with a screw driver and an every weapon in the US arsenal.”

“Really? Every single one? Even the black ops shit?”

“Especially the black ops shit. But I’m being serious.”

“That you’ll shut the mafia for me?”

“That I want to help. I know I seem like an ungrateful sod...that’s because I am an ungrateful sod...but I could, I don’t fucking know, sweep your stoop, or snake the pipes, or wipe your counters, or...”

“...just so I’m absolutely clear, you’re not offering me a blow job or an assfuck in exchanged for baked goods, right?”

“...would you accept a blow job or an assfuck in lieu of payment?”

“From someone with your skank-ass breath and gingivitis? Fuck no.”

“I don’t have gingivitis on my cock, Dean.”

“And honestly...if you don’t take a goddamn shower, I’m not even letting you on the premises. But--”

“But you appreciate the offer, you don’t mind giving me baguettes, it’s definitely not a no homo thing, blah blah blah, I get it, I--”

“--but I got a shower stall in the basement.”

“...oh.”

“So, get your ass cleaned up - and no, I don’t mean sexually, I’m not a homo but I am bi as fuck, but like, just no, the levels of squicky in the homeless dude I’ve been feeding paying me back in sexual favors is just all kinds of nope - and then if you want to help, I could use an extra set of hands with the dishes. But if you do, I’m fucking paying you. Okay?”

“I don’t need your charity.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, and I’m not offering it. Heck, you’re in this alley every fucking day - that already makes you about a billion times more reliable than the last dumbass I hired as a kitchen boy.”

“You want me to be your...kitchen boy?”

“Do you want to be my kitchen boy?”

“...we’re still not talking about sex?”

“Just get your ass in here and take a fucking shower. And I’ve got a bag of clothes I’ve outgrown - before you say it, I mean that I’ve got too fucking chubby to fit into, thank you very much for fucking noticing - and I’ve been figuring out how to give them to you anyway, so you can change into those.”

“You wanted to give me clothes.”

“It was you or Salvation Army.”

“They’re a bunch of fucking transphobes, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I opted for you. I assumed you weren’t a bunch of fucking transphobes.”

“What if I’m one fucking transphobe?”

“Look, you want to take a shower or not?”

“...yeah. Yeah, that would be nice, Dean.”

“Good. Get your utterly non-sexual ass into my place of business. You’re hired.”

“What’s your fraternization policy?”

“Shut up, Cas.”

“That’s an oddly specific policy.”

“Shut up, Cas.”

“...make me?”

“Shower. Now.”

“Yes, Dean.”

A distinctive musky, skunky smell wafted through the kitchen, so strong it over-powered the mouthwatering scents of proofing croissants and caramelizing sugar. Wrinkling his nose, Dean stuck his head into the dining area, expecting to see some stoners with the munchies buying him out of cookies, but the scent terminated at the door. If it wasn’t a customer, it might be one of his neighbors...but the other businesses around were closed on the weekend...or someone who lived in the building above...but that should drift up, not down...or from the alley outside...but the handful of small windows in the kitchen area were nailed shut to prevent exactly that kind of problem...so where...?

Grimacing, Dean returned to the kitchen.

“Heya, Dean,” Cas drawled.

Cas.

On his third day of work.

Late.

Dressed in Dean’s hand-me-downs.

Shaved.

Surprisingly hot, now that he had some flesh on his bones and some color to his skin.

Pupils dilated.

High out of his fucking gourd.

“Out,” snapped Dean.

“Oh...did I blow it?” Cas broke into a lazy smile, not a hint of surprise in his voice. “Shocking.”

“For fuck’s sake, dude - no, you didn’t blow it, but you do not show up in my place of business reeking. You get your ass to the shower, clean up, change into some fresh clothes, and then wash the goddamn dishes like we discussed.”

“And if I don’t?” There was something bizarre about Cas’ expression. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d think it was...affronted? Insulted? Put out?

What, because I didn’t fire him?

Over some goddamn pot?

Who the fuck does he think I am?

“Then you can go right back out to that alley, bury yourselves in those ratty, stinking boxes again, and I’ll bring you some bread tonight,” replied Dean with a shrug. “No skin off my back either way. You’re here because you fuckin’ offered, man, not because I insisted or nothing. Anyway, you want to afford more weed, you need money, so...dunno why you’re acting like a dickfuck about this, but seems to me that from your point of view, it’s a lose-lose, and from mine, it’s whatever. Capish?”

Silent, Cas stared at Dean.

Sending a silent what the fuck skyward, Dean turned to check on the croissants.

Cas stared at him.

Ignoring him, Dean glanced through glass front of the stove to see if they were up to temperature.

Cas stared at him.

Running through his mental task list, Dean checked his stocks of frozen cookie dough - and Cas stared - and gathered the ingredients for Sally Lunn rolls - and Cas stared - and tossed some tart shells in the oven to blind-bake - and Cas stared - and set some butter on the counter to warm to room temperature...

...and Cas stared, and said, “You’re right,” with solemn conviction. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, ready to work.”

“Awesome. You do that.” Dean offered him a half-smile, and Cas startled and shook out his arms as though a spell had been broken.

“And Dean...thank you.” He smiled. “But I’m not a dickfuck. You are.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Dean smiled back; the genuine grateful pleasure on Cas’ face was irresistible. “Get out of here and come back when you smell better.”

“Yes, Dean.”

There was a knock on the door of the closet that Dean liked to pretend was his office. Looking up from his account books, Dean frowned. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, hesitantly, and Cas stepped into view, stopping framed by the rectangle of brighter light that emanated from the kitchen. A year had done wonders for Cas; he’d gone from sleeping in the alley and showering in the basement and working odd hours to being a full time employee, with an apartment, and time off, and clothes of his own, and a permanent 5 o’clock shadow. If the occasional whiff of patchouli drifted about him, well, it meant he cared enough to mask the pot stink, and that too was a vast improvement. How he spent his extra money and leisure time was his own damn business.

Even if, sometimes, Dean wished it was his own business.

But nope. Cas is off limits. Given our relationship - as benefactor and benefactee, as employer and employee, as...fuck, I don’t even know, but it’s awkward - there’s no way in fuck-all I can tell him that I think he’s gorgeous and hardworking and totally spank bank material.

Being the boss blows sometimes.

And Cas was still standing in the doorway, still watching Dean in that peculiar, steady way he had, and still silent.

“Look, these books don’t balance themselves. So unless you got an accounting associates you haven’t told me about, spill it and then kindly fuck off.”

“God, you’re an asshole,” grumbled Cas, rolling his eyes.

“Yet here you are,” Dean replied with an ingenuous smile.

“Yeah, well, not for long.” Something in Cas tone made Dean really look up, really look at him, and he was surprised to find Cas serious, troubled, and focused. Blinking at him, Dean set his pen down, closed his book, and tried not to worry. “I, um.” Cas was hesitant. Cas was tongue tied. Cas was never anything but brash and confident and full of amazing douchiness.

“Hey - dude...” Dean rose, and shimmied to the side to initiate getting through the teeny path beside his teeny desk, but Cas arrested him with an upheld hand. “...whatever it is, you know it’s okay, right? I trust you.” Cas laughed hollowly and Dean’s concern intensified. “If shit’s going down, you don’t have to face that shit alone any more, ya know?”

“Yeah...” said Cas bitterly. “Yeah, I know.” Cas took a deep breath, let it out as he squeezed his eyes shut, and said in a rush, “I quit.”

“What?” exclaimed Dean.

Cas opened his eyes, deep blue obscured as they narrowed with uncertainty, and nodded slowly for no obvious reason. “I said, I quit.”

“Why?!” Shock, worry, and disappointment collided within Dean. If Cas quit, would he end up on the streets again? If Cas quit, would Dean get to see him any longer? If Cas quit--?

“Because as long as I work here, I can’t do this,” Cas replied, and as Dean watched as though time had dilated, Cas lunged forward, knocked into the desk, grabbed the loose sides of Dean’s apron, and pulled him into a rough kiss. Stubble tickled at Dean’s cheeks. Lips applied amazing pressure to his own. Cas’ face was so close that his two eyes seemed four until Dean’s eyes slipped shut and he leaned in, deepening the kiss, teasing at Cas’ lips with his tongue.

Cas jerked away from him with a gasp, chest heaving, and for a split second Dean thought he’d somehow misunderstood everything.

If he doesn’t want tongue...is there something, anything, else that kissing me out of the blue could mean??

“Cas?” Dean asked weakly.

“Yeah, dickfuck?” replied Cas with a mysterious smile. His tongue flicked out and ghosted over his lips, and Dean swallowed a surge of arousal.

“What the fuck was that?”

“It was the kiss I’ve been wanting to give you for a goddamn year,” Cas explained contentedly. “Whaddaya think?”

“What do I think?” Eyeing him, Dean took a deep breath and let it go, raising two fingers and brushing them over his mouth. The way Cas stared at every movement was more delicious than Dean’s special, patented, best-in-the-tristate-area apple pie. “I think I want to do it again.”

“Good,” said Cas, his hunger as obvious as the growing bulge in his pants. He reached out...and Dean stopped him with a hand.

“After I finish the books, and seriously, anywhere more comfortable than in here, okay?”

“In the kitchen?” Cas suggested with a lascivious wink.

“Ew. No! Unhygienic. Do you know how much trouble I’d get into if the health department found out?”

“...aren’t I worth it?”

“Okay...look...just to be clear...we are talking about sex, right?”

“For once...god, I hope we are,” said Cas fervently. “Because if not, this is, hands down, the most confusing conversation I’ve ever had with you - and that’s saying something.”

“What?! I’m not confusing,” Dean exclaimed. “You’re fucking baffling.”

“I’m easy,” disagreed Cas. “In every sense of the word.”

“I call bullshit. If you were easy, it wouldn’t have taken me a year to get in my pants.”

Cas raised a finger. “You were trying to get in my pants?”

“No! Of course not!” Dean spluttered. “I’m your boss, that’d be wrong on so many levels!”

“That’s about what I figured,” agreed Cas with a hum. “But you’re not my boss any longer.”

“That’s why you quit.”

“So if we can’t fuck in the kitchen, how about in the shower?”

Catching his lip between his teeth, Dean barely quelled a hysteric laugh. He wanted to - fuck, how he wanted to - but... “Ok. Here’s what’s going to happen. First, you’re rehired. There’s no fucking way I can close up for the night alone before at least eleven, unless I’ve got help. Payroll is due, and this shit won’t balance, and I can’t go anywhere until it’s done. So, you do closing shit, and I’ll do fucking math, and then, when once all that is set...we can talk. Okay?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak?” smirked Cas.

“Has anyone ever told you I don’t give a fuck?” Dean retorted.

“Don’t worry.” Cas’ smile went gentle, and Dean’s heart fricken melted. “I love it.”

“You--”

“I’ll go wash the dishes now, sir,” Cas interrupted, grin going saucy. “Come fire me whenever you’re ready...”

Dean’s mouth worked around a reply, but no words would come; Cas, looking eminently proud of himself, turned and sauntered from the room, ass wiggling.

“I will,” Dean called after him as the door swung shut. He sounded strained, and high pitched, and he’d have been mortified if he wasn’t so damn excited and horny.

Guess no good deed goes unpunished...

The gorgeous sound of Cas’ rich laughter echoed loudly enough that Dean could savor it despite the door separating them.

...and man, is the punishment for this good deed going to be a goddamn blast.

Hot damn.

#sheinthatfandom #unforth writes #spn #baker dean #homeless cas #endverse cas #idek know how to tag this #the read more is broken and I don't know why #sigh

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Cross My Heart - CH.03

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: A little angst, and sexual tension

WC: 2089

SERIES MASTERLIST

There’s noises coming from outside, she hears the sound of water, hears the sound of oil sizzling in a pan. Y/N smells things too, a smell she makes out as coffee and bacon. Her mouth starts to water and her stomach’s growling.

She opens her eyes to look around, expects to be in the living room but she’s laying flat. Looking around, she sees that she’s in bed. Dean must have carried her back when she fell asleep.

Sitting up, she stretches and yawns, and of course Dean has to walk in on her right in that moment. She rubs at her eyes and looks at him, sees that the corner of his lips tilts up into a smile but then he purses his lips into a thin line, and the frown makes a return on his face.

He’s dressed in casual gear, and she thinks he doesn’t bother with the suits anymore since they have to basically go incognito which is a shame really, because he looks good in suits. Like some kind of a walking Armani ad.

“You’re up,” He says, leans his body against the door frame and crosses his arms.

“At what cost, though,” She groans, she is absolutely no morning person. She stretches some more, making her pj top riding up her stomach.

Dean doesn’t say anything for a long time and when she looks at him, she catches him staring.

She smirks and decides to tease him. She trails her fingers down her top, catches at the seam and pulls it up, just a little.

Dean’s still staring but then he lowers his face, stares at the ground instead and murmurs, “Breakfast is ready, take your time.”

He turns around and leaves right after, but she caught the red of the tip of his ears. It’s so easy to rile him up. She needs to do it more.

Y/N gets dressed and walks out into the living room where Dean’s already sitting at the table. She joins him and he pushes a plate in front of her and a mug of coffee, “Any news?” She asks, wondering if Chuck informed him about any kind of progress.

“No, Mr. Shurley didn’t get in touch yet.”

“But you told him that we’re here?”

“Yes.”

Oh, bodyguard Dean is back.

“Okay,” She says and eats her breakfast in silence.

She offers to clean the dishes afterwards, and Dean excuses himself to go out. Said he needs to check on his car which is parked behind the cabin. She doesn’t really know if he tells the truth because it was too dark to make out anything when they arrived last night, but before she could ask, Dean’s already out of the door.

Y/N’s bored out of her mind so she zaps through the TV channels, and her eyes widened at the entertainment news.

They talk about Chuck and how his home got destroyed.

Well, hello? It’s her home too? There’s not one single mention of her throughout the whole little newsflash.

Frustrated, she turns off the TV and goes out to see what Dean’s doing. Well, she didn’t expect for them to bring a fucking documentary about her but maybe they could acknowledge her either. It’s not hard. Chuck’s not the only one who was living there.

She finds Dean with his head deep in the hood of his car, and she actually has to chuckle at her finding because every time she’d find Chuck, Chuck would have his head in some girl's pussy.

The view of Dean backside is fabulous, so she stares some more. His ass in his jeans is round and firm and oh my god, it gets her all flush and warm.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice startles her.

“How did you know?”

Because seriously, how did he? He still has his head turned away from her and is working on his car.

“I’m always aware of my surroundings, Mrs. Shurley. It’s my job.”

So, she’s back to being Mrs. Shurley.

She walks closer to him, comes to stand beside him as he tilts his head to the side a little and looks at her, “You’re good at what you’re doing, aren’t you?”

Dean shrugs, “It’s really what I can do best.”

“So, your job is to protect me,” Y/N says, lets her fingers skim across the car and Dean comes out of the hood, stands straight up again to listen to her, “But you didn’t sign up to go and hide in the woods with me, why don’t you quit? Clearly this must be boring for you too.”

He takes the cloth and rubs his hands free from grease but he’s not looking at them, his gaze is still on her.

“I worked out that part with your husband already. It was our plan D.”

She frowns, “Plan D? How many plans are there?”

There’s a light chuckle, and Dean takes a step closer, leans down, his face only inches from her as he whispers into her ear, “If I’d tell you, I’d have to kill you.”

She groans and Dean is laughing, takes a step back while he brushes at his forehead with his hand to get off the sweat.

It’s a nice sound. She likes that, likes how it rumbles, likes the bass of it, would definitely like to hear it more often.

“There’s something,” She says and points to her own forehead, telling him with her eyes that he has something on his, and he eyes her suspiciously.

“What?”

“Come here,” She grins, and he listens, takes a step towards her.

When Dean’s close enough, she pulls at his shirt, makes him lean down to her and his gaze on her is intense.

God, his eyes are so green.

She’s still smirking as she swipes at his forehead with her thumb, brushing away the dark grease stain. He’s so close, and she realizes how easy it would be to just lean forward and kiss him. She can’t help but wonder if he would kiss her back. Probably not. He’s too professional. And that makes her think if she’ll ever be able to crack him. Surely, Mr. Bodyguard must have a weakness.

Her hand that was on his forehead travels down his cheek, and she feels the scruff underneath her palm. It prickles but she wouldn’t mind feeling it all over her body.

My god, Y/N, stop! Get a grip! She shakes her head, trying to get the image out of her mind.

Dean blinks and it’s if he’s trying to find his composure either. He clears his throat, “Thanks.” And then he stands up so abruptly to turn around, she wonders if he has gotten a whiplash from it.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Dean says and closes the hood of his car with a bang that makes her flinch, “Why are you out here? Someone could see you.”

“I’m bored.” She pouts, “Can I use your phone to text my friend?”

Dean raises an eyebrow at her, “What friend?”

“Meg. She’s my bestie.”

“How good of a friend is she?”

“My god, Dean! Meg has nothing to do with this. I swear!”

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs before he takes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it for her. He hands it over with a warning, “Don’t tell her where you are. Be absolutely vague about what happened.”

“Cross my heart,” She says with a smirk and walks over to sit on the stairs to the porch, where Dean’s still able to see her. She guesses that if he’s willing to give her his phone she at least can be respectful about it and not wander too far with it.

She texts Meg, knows the woman’s number by heart. It’s probably Meg’s lunch time too. At least she hopes so.

Y/N: Hey babe, it’s me, Y/N. I’m texting you from someone else’s phone because my phone is broken.

She lies, Meg wouldn’t believe that her phone was broken in half with Dean’s bare hands anway.

M: Oh my god, I was wondering if you’re okay! I was worried out of my mind!

Y/N: I’m sorry. I wanted to text you but everything happened so fast.

M: Don’t worry, as long as you’re okay. You’re okay right? I heard what happened and then I texted and called but you never read the messages :(

Y/N: Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. Chuck got me a bodyguard and we had to leave for my safety but I’m okay.

M: A bodyguard? *wink wink*

Y/N: Meg, stop.

M: I won’t. Tell me about him. Is he good looking? Is he strong? I bet he’s strong. Oh my god I’m so jealous.

Y/N: I thought you’re dating Anna?

M: I still like dick, though

She has to laugh out loud, which prompts Dean to look at her funny. She clasps a hand over her mouth to laugh some more.

Y/N: Ah, well, yes, he’s big and strong and he has a nice tush.

M: You saw him naked yet?

Y/N: Can we not talk about him?

M: We can but I don’t want to.

Y/N: Fine. No I haven’t why should I?

M: You have got to find a way!

Y/N: Meg, I’m married.

M: Sorry, I just laughed so hard my coffee came out through my nostrils. Your marriage was dead over seven years ago and you know it. Remember you used to ask Chuck for a divorce every week until you completely gave up because he always said no?

Y/N: I actually asked him again three weeks ago.

M: The answer’s no, right? What excuse this time? No time? Some big signing coming up? Another social event that you need to pretend that you’re all lovey dovey?

Meg’s right. Something always comes up because Chuck fears that she’ll walk away with half of what he owns. Honestly, right now she doesn’t even want a single dime. She just wishes to be free again.

Y/N: He thinks I’ll take half of his money.

M: Which you would be entitled to.

Y/N: I don’t want it. I just want to be me again.

M: So while you’re there, maybe flirt with your bodyguard. Live again! I bet he can handle a weapon perfectly. Probably has a big gun. *wink wink*

Y/N: Meg!

M: Shit! My break is over. I need to run. Get in touch again alright? I’m here if you need anything.

Y/N: Thanks, I miss you.

After the conversation, she places the phone on the stairs and Dean sees that she finished so he walks closer, takes his phone and sits down next to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She answers, “Just missing my home and my friend.”

Dean nods, takes his phone back and scans through the texts. She watches him squint his eyes and she blushes.

“Wink wink?”

She snorts.

“I’m big and strong? And have a nice tush?” Dean frowns, “What does a tush even mean?”

Her face feels like it’s on fire, “Can you maybe not read out loud what I wrote?”

“Oh,” Dean clears his throat, “Yeah, sorry. I just,” He starts and then stops when he sees that her face is flushed. “I have to go into town to get some oil for the car, while I’m there, do you need anything?

She sighs and hugs her knees to her chest, “A new identity?”

He chuckles at that, “I’ll see what I can do.” And then he eyes her, “You can also cut your hair a little. So people won’t recognize you.”

Y/N had thought about that too but ugh, it involves her using a scissor and she’s not very good with that. Every time she would try to give herself bangs, she would end up looking absolutely horrific.

Dean pockets his phone back and walks over to his motorcycle. “I’ll be gone one hour tops. Stay inside, okay? If there’s something, get into the bathroom and lock yourself in. It works as a panic room.”

“Okay,” She wants to say more but she doesn’t know what to say. Can she tell him to not go? Tell him that she wants to go with him?

He gives her a warm smile before he puts the helmet over his head and then he revs his engine, drives off before she can even tell him not to leave her alone.

CH.04

@dean-winchesters-bacon @waywardbaby @flamencodiva @maddiepants @notyourtypicalrose @satans-0-spawn @foxyjwls007 @cosicas-cuquis @destielhoneybee @musicalmuffindog1410 @adoptdontshoppets @mariekoukie6661 @4fareader @deansyahtzee @onethirstyunicorn @deans-baby-momma @team-free-will-you-idjiot @sadbitch89 @becs-bunker @weepingwillowphoenix @deanwanddamons @miraclesoflove @atc74 @michellethetvaddict @traceyaudette @olichat @laxe-from-outer-space @thevelvetseries @laphirablack @deansenwackles @winchesterxfamilybusiness @akshi8278 @jensengirl83 @squirrelnotsam @whatareyousearchingfordean @janicho88 @beautifulbowleggedangel @mylovelydame21 @gabavaldman @invisiblexnobodyximportant @vicmc624 @starryeyeseunbyul @parinarain @busy-bee-angel-misska @pansexualgrapes @addbibliophile @cookiechipdough @fandoms-fiend

#cross my heart #dean winchester #dean winchster fic #dean winchester x reader #bodyguard!dean #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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hereliesbitches--me · 4 years

Text

Full name: Toruga ( Winchester ) Nicknamed: The Good Doctor, Father, Doc, Purple Pimp

Gender: Male Species: Demon Age: Immortal, appears to be in his late 30s, early 40s Sexuality: If its a shade of royal purple, its within that field of interest. Otherwise, he couldnt care less Nationality: Travels about, German based design. Dude is a demon imitating human design City or town of birth: The Enigma , The realm of Neikan and the Emotions Currently lives: Moves where there is work, primarily between Europe and the United States, where is assets are located Languages spoken: English, Spanish, German, Russian, Korean, Japanese, variations of the chinese dialect (fluent in Mandarin) , Hindi -- basically a workable understanding of many mainstream languages of varying countries. He’s old, he’s been around, and he is able to retain and learn easily Native language: prefers English and German Accent/diction: Speaks with refined annunciation with his English, but in a more relaxed state he has a slight German accent. Relationship Status: A widower still obsessed with his monsters and his creator but she just wont see him in such a way rip the man

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Height: 6’6 Weight: 160 pounds in human form, his dark form varies in weight Figure/build: Tall, stocky built. His muscle is primarily in his arms, legs, and chest, with a faintly noticeable gut (lowkey dad bod) Hair color: Black, peppered with grey strands Hairstyle: keeps it medium length but professional, Eye color: A deep orange Skin/fur colour: His skin is a sandy beige complexion littered by dark discolored scars. Having tiger features, he has inverted colors with black fur and white stripes. Tattoos: Neikan’s branding is on his left inner forearm. Tends to stroke it absentmindedly Scars/distinguishing marks: Toruga is littered by minor discolored scars all over his arms and chest, but his iconic scar is the 3 clawed slashing going down his face. Preferred style of clothing: In a button up collared shirt and black dress pants, coupled with his lap coat, He never really goes anywhere without his labcoat. He has no real sense of.. Dressing casual. If not his lab coat, he still wears a kind of trenchcoat in some way. And suspenders for a touch of extra class

HEALTH

Bad Habits: -Cant form real human connection - sees everything as object variables to dissect ,explore, and use for experimentation. - Regularly abuses the fuck out of the other negatives because they are inferior idiots - Sociopathic murderer (“for Science”). -Obsessed with Neikan, the demon who created him, and will turn on anyone in her defense, friend or foe. -Views any personal connection to a person like having a pet you're fond for, but nothing is above Neikan. -Stress smoker.

Addictions: -Sexually infatuated by the color purple, - Takes Sadistic pleasure in watching the bold break down, - Gets off on taking control and causing pain in the act of intimacy.

PERSONALITY

Personality: Toruga is a deceptive man by nature, a demon conjured up and hand made by Neikan herself, inspired by Josef Mengele which she had seen in the lives of one of her vessels. Being based on the mad doctor, Toruga himself is brilliant in the fields of genetics, biology, and the anatomy of anything he can get his hands on. Despite the basis, Toruga is simply a being that never was a child, thus has formed a persona that imitates human emotion and relations to get his way. He doesn't feel true connection, he doesn't feel empathy, sympathy, or guilt for what he does, as long as it feeds into the goal of appeasing his mistress and furthering her goals. Which makes lying and altering his persona to the liking of his associates quite easy. Toruga presents himself like a fatherly figure -- even tempered, soft but confidently spoken, and constantly utilizing praise and interest in another when he’s looking to make nice. He’s a master of manipulation and will not hesitate to research a person’s history, or gauge a weakness from conversation alone, and exploit it if it makes them more agreeable or himself more appealing. He doesnt respond to insults or physical attacks, not a single thing in the world bothers him, save for the failure of the negatives to complete a task, or if the insult is directed at his mistress. Or if it is impeding his work, because that would make him unappealing to Neikan. Only then will he react. And he will do so swiftly and violently to make his point known. He is not afraid of death threats, or to be beaten or dismembered or tortured, because of his inability to die (Thanks to his connection to Neikan. For as long as she lives, he can) He finds those sorts of threats mildly amusing, because he has been here for centuries, and he will continue to be well after humanity is nothing more than bones and Ash beneath their feet. His personality can swivel on a dime, but overall he is a fairly pleasant person to interact and talk with. He;s had plenty of time to master human expression. Toruga also tends to be very physical when he shows interest, with subtle touches, unbroken eye contact, and closeness. Its simply the spider tossing the silk of his webs to capture the poor fly that has no idea the fate to come. He can be incredibly jealous and spiteful when it comes to what diverts the attention of his mistress

Strengths: Determined, Even tempered, charming personality. Incredibly intelligent and gifted with holding conversations. A great asset if you need a doctor to work on any sort of viral or bacterial bioweapon, or if ya need a guy that likes to alter and play with mortal genetics. His inability to stay permanently dead makes him quite the threat in theory, and with that demonic origin he does have supernatural strength compared to the average mortal. He has no real blood, just inky mass of dark matter that makes up his form and drips in imitation blood.

Weaknesses: Neikan. Divine weaponry and magic also hurt like a bitch and would require he directly return to neikan to get fixed up.

Fears/phobias: Failing Neikan to the point she abandons him or makes another negative to replace him.

Favourite color:

P U R P L E

Did I say purple? Very important to know. And any shade that compliments it.

Hobbies: - Kidnapping subjects indiscriminately based on their viability and their chance of being pursued, disfiguring them, wiping their memory, and then using them as test subjects for his viral bioweapon projects. - Making handmade clothing for his test subject children. He’s quite the skilled tailor. He especially loves dressing up his daughter before she ran away - Traveling about to meet with and work closely with assorted allies towards an end goal of toppling human society and shifting power - Taking out his anger and frustration on the negatives because they dont die - Talking to his dead husband he keeps perfectly preserved in a case down in his lab

Theme Song: - “Pet” by perfect circle - “Trust me” from the Devil’s Carnival

SKILLS

Talents/skills: - Tailoring clothing of all materials - Extensive knowledge of the medical field - skilled virologist and biochemist - Manipulative - Skillful liar

Education: Multiple lifetimes of trial and error through multiple dimensions and a variety of different levels of technology he’s explored with. Lacking any formal training, being an extension of his mistress means he also inherits the knowledge of her vessels. Coupled with his own experimentation and studied through multiple worlds.

Abilities: Being a demon made of dark matter means he’s endowed with an assortment of natural abilities, however unlike the more well known hell spawn demons, the negatives and their abilities from Neikan are typically only physical based. Those abilities include: - Enhanced Strength and Endurance (built up after years of handling monsters, and the lack of human limitations/strains on the body) - Complete Regeneration (as long as the weapon is not enchanted or by divine means) - Minor shapeshifting, limited to his true forms. From human, to the black mass in the shape of a man, to a beastial tiger form - A photographic and auditory memory that retains just about any information he finds worthy of withholding. It also allows him to learn any language with ease after being exposed to it for a period of time

FAMILY, FRIENDS AND FOES

Personal history: Created around the time period of Pride’s((The Vessel) lifetime, 6 vessels prior to Nikki, Toruga was formed at first out of curious reasons and the need for a friend, but her intent with him became malicious shortly after her grief in the following life which split her soul into two halves. Left with nothing but malice and hatred for humanity, with the worst aspect of her being, Neikan utilized all her negativity to create a figure that would help speed up the process of ending the lives of the future vessels. Toruga was based on Josef Mengele, which Neikan had been exposed to as a child through the eyes of her second vessel, Hate. The demon was never a child, born as a perfectly capable adult to keep this young grieving woman company, it was at the start of his existence which paved the way to his obsessive love for his Creator. Toruga was her friend, her pet project that she left responsible with overseeing any of her new creations were given a job and set in order. While not active at first, Toruga observed humanity from the distance and learned the art of imitating them perfectly to blend in and manipulate what he understood. He studied their texts, he studied their culture, the array of species, their anatomies, their science and their technologies, absorbed it all until he could put it to use at the very end. Toruga is in love with his mistress, but with her fixation on her vengeance and the delicate heartbreak, she refuses to see him in such a way. Which, in turns, drives his unyielding determination to please her to make her see him. Coming to the existence of the last vessel, Nikki, things got complicated. Neikan assigned him a task to make a malleable beast that can infiltrate, a living machine to be the wolf in sheep's clothing, so when the last life became known, this being would be sent to kill it. Unfortunately for them, that bio weapon became the last life. Once inheriting Neikan and all the previous lives, any of the previous wiring he had instilled in the fetus were completely wiped away with the new presence of thought and free will -- the result, which would send Toruga on a wild chase to retrieve his experiment , all the way back to Earth. He spends years having to establish bases and connections on earth, all while scouring for his little project, taking well over 10 years before finally finding her. When he eventually does kidnap her and attempt to reset her mentally, Nikki retaliates and flees, leaving him with the iconic face scar he has now, but his project was now an unstable mess.

Toruga is a man who juggles many projects at once. Despite a singular failure, he is always looking to make improvements, which would have eventually led to the creation of Malakaid as a failsafe to getting rid of Nikki, then immediately lost after yet another raid by Rosie and the authorities. But there is no stopping, there is always alternatives to getting what he wants. His web is vast, his determination and will unyielding. The world will fall to his mistress, one way or another. As of now, Toruga works closely with a variety of associates, primarily the Branches of Virtues because of their plentiful assets, and acts as a kind of apostle for Neikan to gain more souls willing to join their cause. His main project is a viral mutagen called the Uxoru virus, and helping work towards a modified super soldier serum made from Angel’s blood.

Parents names: Neikan Shadou (Sheila Lunarcrest)

Siblings: The other negatives, including John, Sebura, Kura, and Joku. By technicality, anyone made by Neikan is a kind of sibling.

Relationship with siblings: Toruga is the head honcho of the show, responsible for directing and punishing the others for their failures. Their stupidity and clumsiness prove to be incredibly irritating to him, and because they cant die he has no hesitation in brutally maiming and abusing them for it. They all have a bitterness, but a respectful fear towards him, and he knows it well. None of them are his equal, for he was the first, and he intends to keep it that way.

Partner/Spouse: -Vermont (Former husband, now deceased. Murdered mistakenly by Toruga himself after Vermont questioned Neikan’s intentions and plans. )

Children:

- Nikki Ai (His first experiment, artificially created and planted within a mother. She has no recollection of him as her creator, but rather this monster that hunts her down. She never came back as she was suppose to, and thus is a nuisance he needs dead)

- Malakaid (The second improvement to Nikki’s design , made from Nikki and Jacob’s dna, spliced with his own. Malakaid was stolen as a baby by Rosie and imprinted on her. Because of this, he will not go back to Toruga.)

( From his relationship with Vermont)

- Veronica Winchester (Eldest daughter, ran away at 12 years old.)

- Toby Winchester ( A young boy, still living with him. He drags him around on his work trips when he’s able to. Because he witnessed his birth parent murdered as a toddler, Toby is practically a skittish mute of a boy that fears his father but will not dare leave the way his sister did.)

Enemies:

Basically got beef with everyone bcuz he probably fucked over your loved ones at some point and just doesn't recall it. He primarily has enemies with Rosie( A very personal vendetta) and the Angel Project, the Divine Calvary, and any enemies of the Branches of Virtues. He doesn’t try to make enemies but if people are gonna try to stop him from completing his work because its “unethical” and “Inhumane” then a bitch gonna go into the cage with the rest of the subjects. But he’s a hard man to hate because as long as you are blissfully ignorant, he seems like such a pleasant man to keep company with.

Associates:

- The Branches of Virtue

- Nathair Elerdand

- Neikan and the Negatives

Affiliated verse:

Tag: :The Good Doctor (Toruga):

- Iniquitous Essence (The info above)

- Pokeverse : Toruga is a scientist of the Aether foundation , working on a secret specialized project for Lusamine, to create a world where human and pokemon are one -- as halflings. He experiments using genetic information gathered from the ultra beast data, along with splicing human dna with that of Pokemon, varying from adults to unborn fetuses. Everyone of which failed (dying in a matter of months, if born. Dying and resulting in a stillbirth. Or death induced by the Human body rejecting the intrusive genetics and triggering a shut down response) until finally there was Rosie. He studied her for the entirety of her childhood, a secret success he dare not report until certain she would not die like the rest, only to be lost in a fire (as far as he knows) aimed at silencing her rowdy father.

Much to his dismay, Toruga continues his research on human genetics, milking the foundations of its assets to feed his curiosity, with no real loylty to anyone but himself. But those skulligans are a promising bunch of nobodies to utilize for testing. He’s on the hunt to get his pet project back

#:The Good Doctor (Toruga):#Hey I made a bio sheet so imma post it here and add it to the page later #I ended up just keeping it short bcuz who the hell cares about his little detailed affairs #Too intricate to matter buy if anyone wanted to know they can ask #The bad bad doctor man #long post #tw: long post #Sorry dash I wanted to share him

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