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woods2006gal · 1 month

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Chapter 12 - As Time Goes By

Dean glances up when the bathroom door opens and he watches as Addison walks out wrapped in a towel with another one on top her head. It had been a month since she had taken off to go help Sarah. He still had no idea why Sarah needed Addison’s help in New Orleans. They had elected to put the whole incident behind them. ”That’s why we never have clean towels," he points out.

Addison rolls her eyes. "I thought it was cause of Sam's hair."

Sam shoots her an unamused look. "Haha."

Dean smirks at his younger brother. "I agree with her. Your hair is getting longer than hers."

"I liked it better when you two weren't together," Sam tells them. "You didn't agree on everything."

"Hey, we still fight. But now we just get the make up sex afterwards."

"Or the angry sex," Addison adds.

"You know what kind we don't have," Dean begins.

Sam shakes his head. "I can't believe you guys are talking about this."

"It's not gonna happen," Addison tells her husband, before disappearing back into the bathroom.

“One day it will,” Dean replies.

Addison walks out of the bathroom and tosses her dirty clothes in Dean's duffle, ignoring the look her sends her. "We need to do laundry," she states.

Suddenly, the closet door flies open and a man falls out. The boys stare in disbelief. He was about their age with jet black hair and a pair of bright blue eyes. He wore a blue suit. "Which one of you is John Winchester," the man asks, looking between the boys. The trio stares in disbelief. "Please, time is of the essence! Which one of you is John Winchester?"

"Uh, neither," Sam says, breaking the confusion that had fallen over the three hunters.

"That's impossible. That's absolutely…" The man trails off. "What did I do wrong?"

"Who the fuck are you, mister," Dean demands, standing up and aiming his gun at the stranger.

"Not now. I'm thinking.” Dean grabs the man and slams him against the wall. “Please. I can assure you there’s no need for violence. One of you must know John Winchester.”

Sam stands up. “I’ll tell you what,” he begins. He could see where Dean was headed. “When one of us fall out of your closet, then you can ask the questions.”

The man nods. “Yes, my apologies. Is it absolutely essential, sir, that you keep your hands on me,” he asks, directing his question at Dean. Dean releases his grip on the man and steps back. Addison places a hand on his back. “Thank you. Gentleman, ma’am, in the absence of any and all other explanations, I’m afraid this has been a marvelous, tragic misunderstanding. I’ll be on my way.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Addison tells him.

“There are things of grave importance. I do not have time to deal with the likes of you,” the man says.

Dean picks up a pair of handcuffs as Sam grabs the man. “You’re not going anywhere, 007, till we get some answers,” he angrily says. He tries to handcuff the stranger, but there’s a scuffle. Dean and Sam are handcuffed to the chair.

The man starts towards the door, but stops upon realizing that Addison was blocking it. “Yeah, you’re not going where,” she tells him. The man stares at her for a moment, then punches her in the face. She immediately covers her face and bends over, moving away from the door. The man slips past her and out of the room.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, struggling with the handcuffs. He always kept a paperclip in his back pocket for these kind of situations. It only takes him a couple of minutes to get out of the handcuffs. He grabs his gun and makes his way out of the room. Sam grabs a wash cloth from the bathroom and hands it to Addison before following Dean.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine,” Addison mutters, wiping the blood from her face. She walks into the bathroom and rinses the blood off of her face. She checks her nose and is relieved to find that it’s not broken. Addison walks back into the room as Dean shoves the man into a chair.

“Broken,” Dean questions, pulling out a silver knife.

“No, thankfully,” Addison tells him. Dean grabs the man’s arm. He shoves the sleeve up before running the silver over the man’s forearm, drawing blood.

“Is this really necessary,” the man questions. Dean ignores him and grabs a flask out of the weapons duffle. He splashes water on the man. “And there with the holy water.”

“He’s clean,” Sam states.

“I could have told you that,” the man mutters, pulling the sleeve down.

“Yeah, well, you can start by telling us everything before I beat it out of you,” Dean snaps.

“I’m quite certain this is all beyond your understanding, my alpha male monkey friend. And violence will not help you comprehend this any easier.”

Dean pulls his gun out of his waistband and aims it the man. “Let me tell you what I understand! Some asshat pops out of my closet asking about my dad, punches my wife, smashes up my ride. So why am I not getting violent again?”

The man stares at them. “John Winchester is your father?”

The closet starts shaking. “What the actual fuck,” Addison lets out in disbelief.

“Oh my god,” the man says.

“What,” Dean asks.

“Run!”

The doors burst open and red headed woman in a bright blue dress steps out. She was wearing bright red lipstick and a pearl necklace. “Henry,” the woman laughs. “Silly man, you forgot to lock the door. But then spells never were your best subject, were they? Why don’t you be a doll and give me what I want? And I promise to kill you and your friends here quickly.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Henry tells the woman.

“You’re not a fighter, Henry.”

Dean aims his gun, but the woman sends the three hunters flying into the motel walls. Henry tries to step forward, but is held back by an invisible force. “Josie. I know you’re still in there. You must fight this.”

“I’m afraid Josie’s indisposed, pet. It looks like it’s just you and me.” Dean stands up and stabs the demon in the back with the demon killing knife. The demon lets out a scream and falls to her knees. The familiar orange light flashes through the demon’s body. Then she stands up. “Well, that is no way to treat a lady.”

Addison, Dean, Sam, and Henry all run out of the motel room. They jump into the Impala. Dean and Henry are in the front seat while Sam and Addison are in the backseat. The Impala’s tires squeal as they pull out of the parking lot. Silence is over them as they drive for about a half hour. Dean pulls the Impala over on the side of the road.

Henry jumps out of the Impala and walks a few feet away before throwing up. “Are you okay,” Addison questions, climbing out with the boys.

“Yes, I will be,” Henry replies, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. He throws up once more. He takes a deep breath. “It’s just all the adventures I enjoy are usually of the literary nature.”

“Yeah, well, now that you’re done blowing chunks, you want to tell us who Betty Crocker was,” Dean questions.

“Abandon. She’s a demon.”

“No shit,” Sam responds. “Where’d she come from?”

“Where’d you come from,” Dean asks Henry.

“She’s from Hell. I’m from Normal, Illinois. 1958,” Henry tells them.

Dean snorts. “Yeah right.” He’s met with a serious look. “Seriously? Dudes time traveling through motel room closets? That’s what we’ve come to?”

“If you could just take me to John, we could clear all this up, I’m sure,” Henry tells them.

Dean tenses. “I’ve told you that’s not gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s dead,” Dean snaps. Addison places a hand on his arm.

Henry shakes his head. “No.”

“What’s it to you,” Sam questions, wondering why the man was so interested in their father.

“Everything,” Henry sadly replies. “I’m his father.”

~*~

Addison shifts as she sits at the table with Henry. Dean and Sam were at the counter, waiting on the food they had ordered. Henry hadn’t said much to her. He had been focused on the photo he was holding. She glanced over his shoulder to see the photo was of him with a small boy. She softly smiles at him as the boys sit down with two trays of food. Dean and Sam were being their overprotective selves as they were sitting on either side of her. She wasn’t sure how things were between her and Sam, but for the time being, Addison was glad that things seemed back to normal.

“How are you doing,” Sam questions Henry. He sets a basket of chicken fingers and fries in front of Addison.

“I’ll be fine,” Henry replies, putting the photo up. “After all, despite everything, I’ve just met my grandsons, haven’t I?” He holds out a hand to Sam. “Henry Winchester. It’s a pleasure.”

Sam lightly smiles and grabs Henry’s hand. “Sam.”

“Hello, Sam.” Henry holds out his hand to Dean.

Dean drops a basket with a burger and fries in front of Henry, ignoring the hand. “Dinner.”

Addison rolls her eyes. “This is Dean,” she says, grabbing Henry’s hand. “And I’m Addison.”

“I apologize for punching you,” Henry tells her. “I assure you that I do not make it a habit of hitting women.”

“It’s fine. I’ve been hit much harder.”

“I still do apologize.”

Addison lightly smiles. She turns to Dean. “I like him,” she amusedly says. Dean glares at her. “He’s nice.”

“Well, this has been touching. How about we figure out how to clean up your mess, huh,” Dean coldly asks.

“Abandon,” Henry tells them, nodding. “Yes. She must be stopped.”

“How come she didn’t die when I stabbed her?”

“Because demons can’t be killed by run of the mill cutlery. At the very least, you’d need an ancient demon killing knife of the Kurds.”

Dean reaches into his jacket and pulls out the handle of the demon killed knife. “That’s what this is.”

Henry leans forward. “Where’d you get that?”

“Demon gave it to me,” Dean answers, shoving the knife back into his jacket. “We’ve been around this block so many times.”

“Now, that portal or whatever it was you came through,” Sam begins. “Is it still open?”

Henry shifts. “I highly doubt it. Why?”

“I’m just thinking if we can’t kill this Abandon—”

“Maybe we can shove her back through the magic door,” Addison finishes and Sam nods in agreement. “How did you do it?”

“It’s a blood sigil,” Henry explains. “Blood leads to blood. Or their next of kin.”

“But Abandon came through it, also, right,” Sam asks. “So you can create this blood sigil again?”

“My blood, an angel feather, tears of a dragon, a pinch of the sands of time — I-I would need those and…at least a week for my soul to recharge, but, yes, it’s possible.”

“You tapped the power of your soul to get here? I thought only angels could do that.”

Henry looks between the boys. “You should know this. What level are you two?”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “What level?”

“Level of knowledge. You’re Men of Letters, correct?”

The boys exchange a look. “I’m a little busy on my boy bands,” Dean tells him. “Men of what?”

“Men of Letters, like your father, who taught you our ways.”

“Our father taught us how to be hunters,” Sam clarifies.

Henry laughs. “You’re not.” He stops laughing at the serious looks on Dean and Sam’s faces. “Are you? Hunters? Well, hunters are…hunters are apes. You’re supposed to — you’re legacies.”

Dean frowns. “Legacies of what?”

~*~

Addison yawns as the Impala is parked on a street. They had been on the road all day. And she was ready to lie down in a bed. They climb out of the Impala and stare at the comic book store in front of them. Henry walks up to a door and places a hand on it. “What’s going on here,” he softly questions, lightly touching a carved symbol that had been painted over. “No.”

“All right, well, this was enlightening,” Dean says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s hit the road, huh?”

“Give him a minute, Dean,” Sam tells him.

Dean glares at his younger brother. “We just spent four hours driving, okay? All he did was stare out the window and request Pat Boone on the radio. He had his time.”

“I don’t think a couple of minutes is going to hurt,” Addison says, placing a comforting hand on Dean’s back.

“It’s just a facade, a way to rook our enemies into believing we are house elsewhere,” Henry says, walking over to them.

“Okay, enough with the decoder talk,” Dean snaps. “How about you tell us what this whole ‘Men of Letters’ business is or you’re on your own.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“Why? Because we’re hunters? What do you have against us?”

“Aside from the unthinking, unwashed, shoot first and don’t bother to ask questions later part, not much, really.”

Sam shifts. “You know what? Wait a second. We’re also John’s children.”

“You’re more than that, actually. My father and his father before were both Men of Letters, as John and you two should have been. We’re preceptors, beholders, chroniclers of all that which man does not understand. We share our findings with a few trusted hunters - the very elite. They do the rest.”

“So, you’re like Yodas to our Jedis,” Dean reasons. Henry stares at him, confused. “Never mind. You’ll get there.”

“So if the Men of Letters are such a big deal,” Addison begins. “Then why haven’t we heard of you?”

“Abaddon,” Henry answers, then opens the door to the comic book store. He walks inside and the trio follows him.

“But why would Abaddon do that,” Addison questions.

Henry reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wooden carved box with the same symbol that was on the door. “I think for this?”

“Okay, what’s that,” Sam asks.

“I wish I knew,” Henry tells them, then puts the box back in his pocket. “Abaddon attacked us the night of my final initiation. All secrets were to be revealed then.”

“Let me get this straight,” Dean says as the group walks down through the comic book store. “You traveled through time to protect something that does you don’t know what from a demon that you know nothing about?” Henry stares at Dean then walks down the hallway. “Good.”

They follow Henry and come to a large room with comics along with a counters with a cash register sitting on it. “Hand me your….walkie-talkie,” Henry says, holding out a hand.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You mean my phone,” he questions, pulling his phone out.

“Even better,” Henry says, taking Sam’s phone. He holds the phone up to his mouth. “Operator, I need Delta 457.”

“Who are you not calling,” Dean questions. He shoots Addison a look and finds that she’s trying not to laugh.

“Our emergency number.”

“Yeah. Not anymore.” Dean grabs the phone from Henry and hands it back to Sam.

“They can’t all be gone,” Henry says. “There must be another elder out there who can help us figure out how to stop Abaddon and what to do with the box.”

Dean walks up to the counter. “Hey, uh, hi. Can we hijack your computer for a hot second,” he asks, shooting the woman a grin.

Henry laughs. “Like you could fit a computer in this room.”

The woman shrugs. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” Dean turns the computer to Sam and Addison. “Sam. Ads.”

Sam walks up to the computer. “Yep. All right, um, give me a name. Anybody who, uh, might have been there that night — one of those elders.”

“Um, Ackers, David. Larry Ganem,” Henry recites. “Um, Ted—”

“Okay, here it is,” Sam interrupts. “Um, August 12, 1958. A tragic fire at a gentlemen’s club. Uh, 242 Gaines Street.”

Dean shoots the woman behind another smile when he notices her checking him out. Addison rolls her eyes and smacks the back of her hand on his chest. “Still no fun,” he mutters.

“This is 242 Gaines Street,” Henry says. “But that was no fire.”

Sam turns the computer screen to show Henry the article he had found. “Larry Ganem, David Ackers, Ted Bowen, and Albert Magnus. All deceased.”

“Albert Magnus,” Henry repeats.

“He a friend of yours,” Dean questions.

Henry smiles. “Even better.”

~*~

Addison yawns as she walks through the dark cemetery that night with the three Winchesters. The drive hadn’t been long from the comic book store. “These were my friends, my mentors, our last defense against the Abaddons of the world,” Henry softly says.

Dean shines his flashlight on a headstone. “Here’s your buddy Albert Magnus.”

“Albertus Magnus,” Henry corrects. “He was hardly a buddy. He was the greatest alchemist of the middle ages.”

“Okay, so why is he buried here,” Sam questions.

“He’s not. His was the alias we’d use when going incognito. I believe someone planted his name in that article. So that if a Man of Letters came looking for answers, he’d know something was amiss.”

Addison frowns. “Someone wanted you to come here.”

“The question is why.”

Dean looks around the graves. He stops when his flashlight lands on a symbol on the headstone. “What is this?”

“Our crest. The Aquarian Star, representing great magic and power,” Henry explains. The symbol looked like a star with six points inside a circle. “They say it stood at the gates of Atlantis itself.”

“It’s on all the tombstones except for this one,” Sam says, shining his flashlight on the headstone that had a different symbol. “Larry Ganem.”

Henry kneels down in front of the headstone. “The Haitian symbol for speaking to the dead,” he says. “This is the message. You boys ever exhume a body?”

~*~

“Tell me how we got stuck doing this,” Dean angrily mutters as tosses a shovel full of dirt out of the grave. He and Sam were currently digging up the grave. Addison was standing next to the grave, shining a flashlight on them, with Henry next to her.

“Are you of relation to a man named Jack Sloan,” Henry questions, looking at Addison.

Addison softly smiles. “That’s my grandfather,” she confirms. “He died before I was before.”

“How? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I think my dad said it was a wendigo.”

“I’m sorry that Jack died in such a horrible way. The few times that I met him, he never mentioned having a son.”

Addison shifts. “Uh, yeah. Apparently he didn’t know my dad existed until my grandmother died. I guess it was a big surprise when Father O’Connor showed up with a five year old and said you’re a father now.”

Henry frowns. “Seamus O’Connor?”

“Yeah. Did you meet Father O’Connor?”

“No, I never did meet Seamus O’Connor. But I did hear he was a member of a group that was tasked with ensuring the survival of the bloodline of the last descendant.”

Dean looks up at Henry. “Is there a reason why you’re interrogating my wife?”

Henry frowns, confused. “We’re just talking.”

“Yeah, well, stop,” Dean snaps.

Addison sighs. “Dean gets a little overprotective at time,” she softly tells Henry. Sam’s shovel hits wood and they turn to look in the grave. The boys had reached the lid of the coffin. Carefully, they lift the lid and push it out on the ground to reveal a skeleton in the grave.

Dean frowns, temporally forgetting Henry’s question of Addison. “Hey, was Larry a World War I vet?”

Henry kneels next to the grave. “No.”

“Well, then, who’s the stiff?”

“No idea.”

Sam kneels down and finds a dog tag on the skeleton. “Captain Thomas J Carey the third,” he reads. He looks up at Henry. “That mean anything to you?”

Henry shakes his head. “Well, somebody wanted you to see this, so maybe that somebody is Larry,” Dean points out.

“Larry survives the attack and takes his guy’s identity,” Addison questions.

Henry stands up. “Okay. What are we waiting for then? Cover this up. Let’s be on our way.”

~*~

Addison flops down onto the bed that she and Dean had claimed after they had checked into a local motel. Dean and Sam were sitting at the table. Dean with Addison’s MacBook in front of him wile Sam was looking through John’s journal. Henry was sitting on the couch, whistling a tune that was familiar to all of them. “What is that,” Dean questions, looking at his grandfather. “I know that tune.”

“As Time Goes By,” Henry answers. “I hope so. It’s from Casablanca.”

Sam nods, recognizing. “Right. Dad used to whistle it from time to time.”

“Your father saw Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy at the drive in one night. It scared the beeswax out of him. So I got him this little music box that played that song to help him sleep at night. It worked like a charm.”

Addison raises an eyebrow. “I…I can’t picture John being scared of anything.”

“Hey, uh, according to county records, Tom Carey lives in Lebanon, Kansas and is a very happy one hundred twenty seven year old,” Dean says, closing Addison’s laptop. “I say we get some shut eye and head over first thing in the morning.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam says. “Listen to this. According to Dad’s journal, he once tortured a demon that said he made his bones working for Abaddon, who, it turns out, is a Knight of Hell.”

Dean frowns. “What does that even mean?”

“Knights of Hell are hand picked by Lucifer himself,” Henry explains. “They are of the first fallen first born demons.”

“So very pure, very strong,” Sam clarifies.

Henry stands up and walks over to them. “Legend has it that Archangels had killed all of them, which, as we have witnessed, is not the case.”

“Unless Abaddon is the last one,” Addison points out.

Henry motions to the journal in front of Sam. “You say that belonged to your father?” Sam nods. “May I?” Sam slides the journal over to him.

“It’s a hunter’s journal,” Sam says. “I assume Men of Letters…you use journals too?”

“I intended to,” Henry replies, flipping through the journal. “I sent away for one the day before my initiation.” He turns to the front of the journal and life up the photo John had attached. Embossed letters, HW, were sitting there. “As a matter of fact, judging by my initials here, this one, I believe.”

Dean stares at him. “That was yours?”

“It must have arrived after…” Henry trails off. “I’m beginning to gather I don’t make it back from this time, do I?”

Sam sighs. “We don’t know for sure. All we do know is that Dad never saw you again.”

“What did he think happened to me?”

“He thought you ran out on him,” Dean answers.

“John was a legacy. I supposed to teach him the ways of the Letters.”

“Well, he learned things a little differently.”

“How?”

“The hard way. Surviving a lonely childhood, a fucking war…only to get married and have his wife taken by a demon…and later killed by one himself. That mean got a bum rap around every turn. But you know what? He kept going. And in the end, he did a hell of a lot more good than he did bad.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I had been there for him.”

“Yeah, it’s a little late for that now, don’t you think,” Dean coldly replies, standing up. He starts towards the door.

“It’s the price we pay for upholding great responsibility. We know that.”

“Your responsibility was to your family, not some glorified book club!”

“I was a legacy. I had no choice.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

Dean walks out of the room. Addison sits there for a moment, before getting up and following her husband. She finds him making his way to the vending machine. “Dean,” she softly says, placing a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, but pulls her close.

~*~

Addison lets out a snore. She was curled up against Dean in the bed. Her head was resting on his chest. His arm was protectively around her. Sam smacks Dean on the shoulder with the motel notepad and the older hunter jumps awake. “Hey, wake up,” Sam says.

“What? What,” Dean asks, sitting up. Addison rolls over and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Henry. He’s gone.”

“Where is he?”

“Well, no idea. He just left a note saying he was gonna fix everything.”

Dean runs a hand over his face. “Yeah or fuck it all up. All right. I’ll go check the car. You see if you can wake the hibernating bear.”

“I’m not waking her.”

“You’re better at it.”

“Dude, Ads and I are finally back in a good place. Besides, she’s your wife. You wake her up.”

Dean shakes his head. “I would like to actually have sex with my wife. So, no, I’m not waking her up.”

“Oh my god, you both suck,” Addison tiredly snaps, climbing off the bed and walking into the bathroom.

Dean shrugs. “At least we’re both on her bad side now.”

A half hour later, Addison is sitting at the table with Sam. Dean opens the motel door and walks in. He was clearly annoyed at something. “What,” Addison questions, taking a sip of the horrible tasting motel coffee.

“He broke into the trunk, stole an angel feather,” Dean replies. “I’m guessing he’s gonna whip up another one of the blood spells and Marty McFly himself back to the 1950s.”

Sam frowns. “To do what? Stop Abaddon before she strikes?”

“Or grab Dad and haul ass. Look, point is he’s doing it.”

“How? He still needs two ingredients for the spell. Unless…unless there’s some place nearby that sells real hoodoo.” Sam opens his lap and gets to work.

“I’ll call Garth,” Addison says, standing her. Her phone was sitting on the nightstand. “He owes me for not kicking ass after learning that he was tracking us.”

Dean smirks. “That’s my wife.”

“Hey,” Sam say and they look at him. “It just hit the wire. One dead at Astro Comics.”

Dean walks over to his brother. “Abaddon?”

“Yeah, has to be.”

“Okay, so she’s close. I’ll go find Henry. You two find Larry. Figure out how to kill this chick.”

~*~

Addison pulls the sweat she was wearing close. Sam had borrowed a car from the motel parking lot so they could talk with Larry Ganem. The house was a simple two story house with a picket fence in the front yard. “So this is where a dude pretending to be a super old dude lives,” Addison amusedly says.

“Looks like it,” Sam replies, looking at the notepad in his hand.

They walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. After introducing themselves to a woman and explaining why they were there, which was just a small white lie, Sam and Addison find themselves sitting on a floral couch while an old man sits in a matching armchair. “So, Henry is dead. I was so sure that…that he had survived,” Larry Ganem tells them.

“Yes, well, um, like I said…I found his journal and was hoping you could fill in the gaps and explain to us what happened that night in 1958,” Sam says.

Larry sighs. “It doesn’t matter. They’re gone. We’re gone.”

“But Abaddon isn’t,” Addison softly argues.

“Abaddon was a hired gun. She killed us all that one night.”

“Everyone but you,” Sam points out.

“She blinded me. It’s a miracle I survived.”

The woman walks up behind Larry. She places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, dear,” she softly tells him.

Larry grabs her hand and presses a kiss to the palm. “But she did not get what she came for.”

“The box,” Sam answers and Larry nods. “Listen, Abaddon is here, and she wants this thing. So, we need to know everything there is to know about it.”

“In the box is the key to every object, scroll, spell ever collected for thousands of years under one root. It is the supernatural mother lode.”

Addison frowns. “So, Abaddon wants this key so she can get her hands on it.”

“Can you imagine what she would do with that?”

Sam and Addison exchange a look. “So, how do we stop her,” Sam questions. “How do we stop Abaddon?”

“You don’t,” Larry answers. He pulls out a pen and notepad from his shirt pocket. He scribbles a set of coordinates on it before the paper off and hand it to Sam. “If you know where the key is, then take it to these coordinates. Throw it in. Shut the door forever. And walk away.”

“Wait, why would we do that?”

“Because it is the safest place on Earth, warded against any evil ever created. It is impervious to any entry, except the key.”

“But if we did that then all the knowledge in there would be lost forever,” Addison argues.

“And that is the price we have to pay for keeping it away from Abaddon. You do have the key, don’t you?”

“We don’t, um, but, my brother…my brother does,” Sam says, standing up. Something didn’t feel right to him. He grabs Addison’s arm and tugs her up.

The woman walks around Larry. “How rude. You two haven’t finished your tea.”

The woman’s eyes turn black. The demon waves a hand and sends Addison and Sam flying into the walls, knocking them both unconscious. “Abaddon,” Larry states.

~*~

Addison lets out a groan. She had a pounding headache. And being man handled by a demon certainly didn’t improve her mood. Sam was standing next to her. How Abaddon had managed to eat with the two unconscious hunters without any help, Addison wasn’t sure. Their hands had been tied in front of them. She shifts as footsteps echo throughout the empty processing plant. “That’s the problem with you hunters,” Henry says. “You’re all short sighted.”

“Yeah, at least we’re not extinct,” Dean replies, entering the room with Henry. He holds up the box that the Knight of Hell had been searching for. “Abaddon! I’ll send Henry here over with the box. You do the same with Sam and Addison. No tricks.” He shoves the box into a pocket in Henry’s jacket.

“My only interest is Henry and the key. You three are free to go,” Abaddon tells him.

Dean shoves Henry, but the elder Winchester doesn’t move. Dean pulls out his gun. “You can do this standing or you can do it crawling. Your call.”

Henry reluctantly starts forward as do Sam and Addison. Addison shoots Henry an apologetic smile, but he ignores her. “Henry, I’m sorry,” Sam quietly tells him.

“Save it,” Henry coldly replies.

They reach Dean and he cuts the ropes around their hands. “Don’t do this, Dean,” Sam says. “This is a bad idea.”

“Shut your mouth,” Dean snaps. “Let’s go.” The start to walk out of the room, but the door suddenly closes. Dean turns around and glares at the demon. “We had a deal!”

“Surprise,” Abaddon taunts. “I lied!”

Abaddon stabs her hand into Henry’s abdomen. “Henry,” Addison shouts. She starts to move towards him, but Dean grabs her arm.

“Wait,” Dean quietly tells her. “Wait.”

Abaddon pulls her hand out Henry’s abdomen. He coughs up blood. “You’re not the only one,” Henry says, revealing that he had been holding a gun. He presses the muzzle against Abaddon’s chin and fires. The demon’s skull flashes with bright light.

“Whoo,” Abaddon shouts, clearly amused. “What a blast. Now, give me the box.” She reaches a hand into Henry’s jacket and pulls out a pack of playing cards. She angrily drops the box to the ground. “Where is it!” Her anger sets off sparks and causes something in the building to crash. She humorlessly laughs. “Okay. We can do this this hard way.” She grabs Henry’s chin and black smoke flies out of her mouth. Except instead of going into Henry, it hits a invisible barrier. Abaddon shoves Henry back and Sam runs over to him. Abaddon tries moving, tries smoking out of the person she was using, but can’t. “Why am I stuck?” Abaddon glares at Henry and Sam. “You still didn’t kill me.”

“No, but you’ll wish we did,” Dean snaps, slicing Abaddon’s head off. It hits the floor with a thud. Addison walks over to him. “The demon trap in your noggin is gonna keep you from smoking out. We’re gonna cut you into little steaks and bury each strip under cement. You might not be dead, but you’ll wish you were.”

“We did it,” Henry softly says.

Dean kneels down next to his grandfather. “No. You did it. For a bookworm, that wasn’t bad, Henry.”

“I’m sorry I judged you two so harshly for being hunters. I should have known better.”

“About,” Sam questions.

“You’re also Winchesters. As long as we’re alive, there’s always hope. I didn’t know my son as a man, but having met you two…I know I would have been proud of him.”

~*~

Addison stands next to Dean in the Men of Letters cemetery. Sam was hammering the makeshift cross in the ground. The Men of Letters logo and H. Winchester were carved into it. She leans against Dean and he drapes an arm around her shoulders. They had felt that burying Henry with the other members of the Men of Letters is what he would have wanted. “I get it now,” Sam says, standing up and joining. Dean shoots him a questioning look as Addison slides her arm around his waist. “What Cupid said about Heaven busting ass to get Mom and Dad together. The Winchesters and the Campbells. The brains and the brawn.”

“Well, I’m glad you see it. All I see in our family tree is a whole lot of dead,” Dean replies. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small photo. He holds it out to Sam. “Hey, I, uh, found this in Henry’s wallet.”

Sam takes it and sadly smiles. Henry was standing next to a young John Winchester. “Dad looks happy,” he softly says, handing it back to Dean.

“Kind of makes you wish he knew the truth, huh? I mean, all those years thinking his old man ditched when the poor son of a bitch really came here and saved our bacon. Fucking time travel, man.”

“You think it would have made a different?”

“What?”

“Dad. If he’d had his own father around.”

Dean frowns. “What, in how he raised us? Sammy, he did the best he could.”

“I know that. I-I do. They all did.”

Sam reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box. “What are the chances that place is still standing,” Dean questions.

“It’s a chance we got to take,” Addison amusedly says. “I mean, you guys are legacies. It would be a shame if we didn’t.”

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #addison sloan #sam winchester #ofc #oc

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hahahahahangst · 10 months

Text

Happier than ever (Be The Young 31)

TW: [suicidal thoughts, self h*rm, violence, s*xual assault]

Other tags: [sister fic, canon-level violence, dean is an asshole, angst]

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will occasionally break canon✨ .

Summary: Emily Reed, born and raised in Portland, is preparing her admission papers for Stanford, medical school. Little does she know, her life is about to change forever.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

A/N: Here's some drama boiling over. Just for you.

MASTERLIST

Happier than ever

Don't say it isn't fair You clearly weren't aware that you made me miserable So if you really wanna know When I'm away from you (when I'm away from you) I'm happier than ever (happier than ever

“Dean, look.” Said Emily. Sam had just interrupted the pool fraud they had going on to walk out of the bar and she had just figured out why. “That's Ruby.” Quickly, they followed Sam outside.

“You got quite some nerve to show up here, Ruby.” Emily's voice was full of hatred. Sam quickly gazed at her.

“I just have some info, and then I'm gone.” She said, looking directly at Sam.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I'm hearing a few whispers. A girl named Anna Milton escaped from a locked ward yesterday. The demons seem pretty keen on finding her.”

“Why, who is she?”

“No idea, but I'm thinking she's important, the order is to capture her alive. I just figured that whatever the deal is, you might want to find this girl before the demons do.”

Dean and Emily shared an angry look before Sam tried to convince them to check out the case. Dean refused, stating they already had a case, although it wasn't true.

“Dean, come on. We can check this out, if it doesn't work-” Tried to say Emily, attempting to find a solution that would work for both her brothers.

Dean was adamant about it. “Absolutely not.”

“Why? Because Ruby threw us the tip?” Sam started to walk back towards the motel. “Come on.”

“Right. 'Cause as far as you're concerned, the hell-bitch is practically family.” Dean followed him. “Yeah, boy, something major must've happened while we were downstairs, 'cause I come back, and- and you're bff with a demon?”

Emily sighed and let the two continue arguing, quickly stuffing her clothes in her bag.

“I told you, Dean, she helped me go after Lilith.”

“You want to fill in a little detail?”

“Sure, Dean, let's trade stories. You first. How was hell? Don't spare the details.”

Dean froze for a second before quickly glaring at Emily. “What?” She asked, confused.

“Nothing.”

Sam also glared at Emily. “What?!” She repeated.

“Alright, alright, enough, where is this hospital?” Dean interrupted Emily from asking for any more explanation as they made their way back to the motel, packed, and left.

The following day, Emily was conducting some research at the local library, while Dean and Sam were talking with Anna's parents. Emily was just about to leave when she got a phone call from Sam hastily telling her to come to the local church.

She was greeted into the church by fighting sounds. After running towards the origin of them, she saw Dean and Sam fighting with a man, while another girl, presumably Anna, was being pulled out of a closet by Ruby. Amidst the chaos, Emily managed to hear one phrase:

“Come on, Dean. Don't you recognize me? Oh, I forgot- I'm wearing a pediatrician. But we were so close... in hell.”

To which Dean blurted out an answer that contorted Emily's guts in a manner she did not know could happen:

“Alastair.”

The name came from deep in her memories about hell, but she did not have any time to process it.

In that exact moment, Emily, who was trying to enter the room, stepped on something.

She looked down, expecting to find a piece of furniture that got destroyed, but instead, it was their demon-killing knife.

Immediately knowing what to do, she grabbed it and ran behind Alastair. When the knife dug inside the demon's skin, Emily was expecting some light, some sort of effect, like it would usually go. But nothing of the sort happened: it just made him angrier.

“Oh, look, Emily's here as well!” He said, sarcastic. Emily took a step back. “What a nice reunion.” Alastair pulled out the knife from his shoulder and as Emily hesitated, someone pulled her towards the window and forced her to jump down.

Limping, she made it to the Impala. As Dean drove back, nobody spoke about what had just happened. Sam was breathing heavily and whimpering, in pain, Dean was holding the steering wheel with only one hand, trying to breathe through the pain of a clearly dislocated shoulder. Emily, instead, sat in the back, finally able to elaborate who Alastair was. The memories of her tortures coming back to her, strong and clear, of all those years, all those decades, of being asked to join him.

Of course she never did. She could never do anything like that, but Dean-

It was warm and cold at the same time. After 50 years, she wasn't bothered by it too much anymore. What bothered her were the tortures. She had been taken apart and put back together more times that she could count. Alastair arrived, everyday, and had fun with her. There was no day and night, no indicator of time passing. But she knew exactly how much time had passed since she had died. “It's been eighteen thousand days you've been here, and your brothers have not thought about you once. Fifty years and they have never even tried looking for you.”

“Emily!” Sam's voice interrupted her stream of consciousness. “I kinda need your expertise here, man.” Realizing she had subconsciously walked from the car to the motel room, she tried to focus on what was happening in front of her.

Brothers.

Medicate.

Help.

She tried to maintain her focus, cleaning and stitching Sam's cuts. He soon noticed her absence.

“Em, are you okay?”

She sighed deeply before mumbling “yeah.” under her breath.

“Are you guys done? Because I need some resetting over here.” Asked Dean, sitting a handful of feet away from them.

“Don't worry, I'm sure Emily is going to pop it back in a sec. Right?” Emily didn't answer. “Emily?” He repeated. Shaken by her memories, she did not answer, but she quickly glared at Dean. She was trying to not break down crying as the longest, most powerful flashback of hell washed over her without letting her breath. Dean reciprocated her gaze, but didn't say anything.

“Dean,“ asked Sam. “Who was that demon?”

“No one good.” He kept looking at Emily. “Sam, we got to find Anna.”

“Ruby's got her. I'm sure she's okay.” As Sam talked, Emily finished medicating Sam and took a step towards Dean, still stuck in a memory loop. She was also hurt and was waiting for everybody else to be safe before she helped herself, but Dean noticed immediately she had a huge cut on her forearm, probably caused by the window breaking when they jumped out.

“What is that?!” He asked, grabbing Emily's arm to check it more closely. “Here, let me-” Emily's body filled with panic and adrenaline as he touched her arm. Immediately trying to take it back, Dean opposed a little resistance.

“Come on, I just want to-”

“Let go of my arm!” She shoved it again, her eyes filling with tears. “Dean, let-” He finally let go, visibly worried. Emily took a big step back, bumping into Sam, who immediately put his hands on her shoulder, asking “Are you okay?”.

“I-” Emily stared at Dean, the flashback she had in the panic room finally taking shape in front of her as all the pieces went back together.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Nothing came out. She tried screaming again. Nothing came out.

She ran towards the door, grabbed the Impala's keys from the desk and ran to the car, ignoring her brothers' request to stop. She drove until they were gone behind her and checked-in in a nearby motel. She just wanted to be alone.

No, no that wasn’t right.

She just wanted to be away from Dean.

Because she never said yes to Alastair, but he did.

And that moment gave way to a new, more painful chapter of her time in hell.

The chapter where Dean and Emily were not two victims anymore, but rather she was the victim, and he was the executioner.

“Dean, why did you say yes?” She tried to scream. But no sound ever came out if not a choking sound.

Of course it wasn't long before they found her. After all, she wasn't trying to hide, she was just trying to be alone for a second. To have a wall between her and her brother Dean.

Because she knew perfectly well he would not hurt her, not knowingly, but the thought of being in the same room with him filled her with the same fear and desperation she felt when she saw him approach her in hell and she would beg him, but nothing came out, so much she had screamed.

When someone knocked on the door, she ignored it. Kept staring at the ceiling while lying on the hard, lumpy mattress. She was still trying not to cry, it was her only focus, Someone knocked again. Seconds later, Sam's voice resounded in her mind.

Come on, Emily, I know you're in there.

With a grunt, she rolled face down in the bed and moaned, covering her ears with her hands.

LEAVE ME ALONE

Emily wasn't sure how one could scream while thinking, but she sure was. It was all she wanted to do, scream, cry, but nothing was coming out of her mouth. She could barely breathe.

Dean torturing her was a memory of hell she would have preferred stayed buried and never live again. But that was exactly what was happening. Over and over, the same sensations washed over her, the pain, the frustration of not being able to scream, the fear and the panic everytime-

The door opened, interrupting her thoughts.

“Emily, it's me.” Sam closed the door.

“Leave me alone.” She felt the weight of someone lowering her mattress. “I said-” Emily arose from the pillow, ready to fight away her brothers, but after looking around, she realized it was only Sam in there.

“It's alright, it's just me.”

“Just- go.” She pointed to the door and planted her face back in the pillow. She prayed he wasn't feeling anything she was or hearing anything she was actually thinking because that would give away how she actually wanted him to stay.

“Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere.”

“Ugh- come on, man-” She was strung by a cough due to the panic attack that was slowly taking charge. She felt Sam's hand on her shoulder and a shiver went through her. She rolled on her bed to be face up and shoved Sam's hand away from her.

“I can't- Go-” Emily coughed again and bent her legs to hide her head in the middle of her knees. It felt like the air all around her was crushing her from all directions. Her vision was blurry and it was difficult for her to breathe, yet every time Sam touched her it felt like a punch.

Yet, no tears came out, she could not cry. All she could do was stare in front of her and struggle to breathe.

“Sam- I don't-”

“You don't want anybody here?” He completed the phrase for her. “Sorry, not happening.”

Emily looked up to her brother, who was holding a glass of water in his left hand and moving it towards her. She tried to reach out to get it, but it suddenly exploded, cutting Sam's hand and splashing water on both of them.

“FUCK!” Screamed Emily. “I HATE THIS- I HATE THESE- POWERS I-” She groaned, frustrated. “FUCK!!”

She stood up, trying to shake the water off of her. “Why?!” Her hands were so numb she could not feel the ground when she tried to touch it to take the glass shards from the floor. She didn't feel it when they cut her fingers. “WHY AM-” She coughed, trying to keep the air in her lungs moving. “-I LIKE THIS, FUCK I CAN'T- I CAN'T EVEN BREATHE RIGHT, SAM!”

“It's okay, we-”

“No, nothing- nothing's okay! Dean, he-” She felt a wave of sickness and moved a step towards the bathroom. “-and you, Ruby- FU-” She rushed in the bathroom and kneeled with her forehead on the toilet.

“It's okay, here-” Sam crouched next to her. The sound of his knees cracking felt as loud as a scream to Emily. “I'm so sorry kid, I-” Sam kept her hair out of the way as she puked.

“You- Why are you always around when I throw up?”

“Because I'm your brother, who else is supposed to be here?”

With a long, prolonged, shaky sigh, Emily leaned on the dirty toilet bowl and Sam let go of her hair. He waited for her breath to go back to a normal rate. “Are you better?” He asked.

“I can breathe.”

“Come here.” Sam stood up and drew her into a hug. With shaky legs she wrapped her arms around Sam's chest. He held her head close to it. “Can we talk about it?”

“What?”

“Hell. Dean.”

“No, Sam, n- not yet. I don't think I can-”

“Okay.”

“You saw everything, didn't you?”

“Sorry.”

Emily enjoyed the comfort in silence for a while before she talked again. “I haven't been able to cry yet.”

“Why?”

“I'm scared I'll freak out again, you know? Like when you died.”

“So that’s it, uh?” She said, trying her best to not get interrupted by her sobbing, which was slowly closing down her nose. “You’d rather have me dead than having to spend the rest of your life alone with me?” She tried to kick him in the stomach but only managed to get to his shins. “So much for being my brother.”

“Shh, don't think about that now.”

“I hated everything about you being gone.”

“I know- it's over now.”

“Yeah, now I just have to figure out how to not have a panic attack every time Dean touches me.”

“You two will be fine. Might have to scream at each other a couple of times, but- You know.”

“Yeah.”

“There is absolutely nothing you can say to me to make me change my mind.” She said, “I am trying my best here to move on from all the pain we had to suffer. I'm trying to elaborate on all the things that happened to me and I have to do it alone because you kept on behaving like an asshole until it was dangerous for us to be around each other. So please, please- don't call me, don't try to come here, just- go live your life.”

#be the young #spn #spn fanfic #ao3 #supernatural a03 fanfict #sister fic

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cattlehymn · 3 years

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goth!Sam au: in which Sam runs away, goes to Stanford, and developed a gender nonconforming goth style, which he loves and finds it creative and freeing + john would hate it + it lets him explore all the “bad” things John never let him near.

Maybe Jess is goth! They meet and she’s charmed by all the monster lore he knows and stories he could tell and the seriousness that he told them with, tho he always laughs it off when she asks if he’s ever seen anything himself.

When Sam asks about her style and her beliefs more she knows they’re genuine questions of interest, and she can see that maybe his interest is more personal than he lets on.

Maybe Jess goes to church and Sam goes along with her, and they sit in the back, and she teaches Sam about all the intricacies of her belief and how to pray. Maybe Sam doesn’t know if church is for him but he finds comfort in the idea of a creator who would never think of him as a mistake.

They walk through a graveyard afterwards. Sam’s been to hundreds of graveyards by this point in his life, but as they walk he listens to Jess’s reflections on death and her words put new perspectives in his head.

She believes that the dead shouldn’t be separated from their past life. Body + spirit + soul, coexist together in one being. A person now dead still has a value, has a story, and their body is an extension of their time on earth. Souls depart, ghost linger, and bodies stay.

With Jess, beauty in the transition from life to death had never been clearer. She awakened an appreciation in him.

Jess practices witchcraft and she wants to share that with Sam too. He gets weary and his stomach drops thinking about what john would do to him if he ever caught him listening to this kind of stuff.

When Jess reads his palm, she kisses it, and tells him he’s going to live a long life, and Sam doesn’t know why but he starts crying, and Jess, in all her kindness, just wraps her arms around his waist and holds him. They rock back and forth and maybe she’s crying now too. She never shows him her palm.

Sam starts to feel himself channeling something, maybe a power? he thinks they’ve opened a floodgate now learning about all this stuff, but he feels strong? secure?

The things Jess has taught him makes sense in ways that the things he was raised on never did. It all feels so exciting (if not a little forbidden) to know all the things he knows now. He’s afraid to practice on his own, but just knowing that he could if he wanted to feels liberating.

Sometimes he thinks about dean and wishes he could explain all of this to him. Tell his brother that he’s changed and how he’s so much happier for it, and he thinks maybe there’s a chance dean would be happy for him to, but then he immediately buries the thought.

Dean can’t know. He’d probably hate Sam, like how Sam knows John would hate him if he ever saw what his youngest child has done with his new life. He doesn’t even want to know what John and Dean would say about Jess, He gets defensive just at the thought.

She’s all that’s important to him now. Her and the future Sam wants to make with her. She’s given so much love and patience, and he hopes he’s given just as much back. His chest warms at the thought of her. and he thinks quietly to himself that John Winchester can’t take that away.

Maybe they get Halloween tattoos, and Sam thinks it’s hilarious because this is his first non hunter related tattoo he’s ever had and it’s probably a monster tatt or something equally campy.

When dean shows up to the dorm and sees Sam for the first time in two years, Sam is pinning him down pissed off and disgruntled from being awoken abruptly, he’s still in his sleep smeared eyeliner/eyebrows/and lipstick from yesterday. He’s got a little gay dangly earring hanging down from one ear and a black stud in the other, he looks down at his older brother who looks exactly the same as Sam remembers him and dean lets out a laugh

Before they leave to go find John, dean tells Sam to “not bring any of that girly shit” cause it’d just cause problems, to which Sam ignores him, placing his makeup bag in the rucksack Jess helped him pack. She helps him put on his spiked/patched denim jacket that they had worked on together last fall (it’s got both their signatures on it). She gives him a kiss goodbye and tells him not to miss her too much, and also if he ever see’s any of those monsters he always use to talk about he better be sure to call and tell her all about it.

#spn #supernatural #spn au #Sam Winchester #goth!sam au #my dream projection sam in which he is not white and is a he/she/they goth lesbian 😌😌😌#closeted dean is angry and confused just looking at him #he is sooo jealous at sams new found comfort and confidence #dean would be enraged when confronted by the idea that it's always been possible to have non selfish happieness out of life #and that his dad raising them in one narrow path his entire life is the root of a lot of his internal suffering #dean eventually flipping the script and slowly starts learning about this new sam and starts advocating for him #dean who is suddenly upset by the idea of anybody else ever giving sam a hard time in life because of who he is or what he looks like #dean asking sam about jess after her death and getting the full picture of what she meant to sam and all the ways she helped him #dean getting more and more nervous the closer they get to finding john cause he's not sure who's side he's suppose to be on anymore

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 3 years

Text

A Period Drama

Summary: When that time of the month hits, Y/n wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and forget about the world. Lucky for her, Dean has other plans.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2.1K+

Warnings: Language, discussion of menstrual cycle

Author’s Note: I guess I'm emotional this cycle, who knew? Anyway, I wrote this because I wanted to die the other day, and imagining Dean's cuddles was the only way for me to get through it. This is a work of self-indulgence and therefore the Reader is a little less non-descript than I usually try to write, but that's what these things are for! Hope this helps my fellow menstruating people lie it did me xoxo Alex

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

A nagging sensation tugged on her strings of consciousness, bringing the sleeping huntress back to the world of the living. Her mind fought against waking, knowing not nearly enough time had passed since she had retreated to her room the previous evening. As the ache deep in her abdomen became more obvious, she stopped fighting and opened her eyes to the darkness of her room.

“Fuck,” she groaned as she tossed the covers from her body, instantly missing the heat they provided in the recess of the bunker. Y/n rolled from the bed and stood, the action occurring too quickly and the huntress felt the familiar rush between her legs. She cursed herself as she bounded off to the bathroom on the opposite end of the hallway. The socks on her feet muffled her hurried steps as she passed the boys’ rooms.

Once inside, she went straight for the showers and turned the hot water all the way up. Steam enveloped the space as she stripped her soiled panties and old t-shirt from her body. She let the bathroom turn into a makeshift sauna as she rinsed the blood from her undergarments before finally stepping into the boiling shower.

It was unclear how long she stood under the water, searing her flesh and scrubbing away the metaphorical grime, all she knew was the relentless heat was managing to ease the ache from her angry uterus. The tentative knock on the bathroom door snapped her back from the silent reverie she had been indulging in, and Y/n noted how the water had gone almost cold. It was likely she had been in there long enough for Sam to have taken his morning run and if her own body wasn’t attacking itself, she might have felt guilty about using up all the bunker’s hot water.

When she walked out in just a towel, her dirty pajamas rolled into a ball in her arms, she was met with a confused younger Winchester. All she could mutter was a weak ‘sorry’ before she breezed past him and back to her room. The huntress wrapped herself into a pair of sweats and a clean tee, braided her hair out of her face, swallowed a few pain killers, and crawled back under her covers. She thanked whatever higher power had made sure they were hunt-free for the foreseeable future so she could spend the day curled up in a ball. The pills kicked in quick enough to allow her to easily slip back into a blissful sleep.

****

It was nearing one in the afternoon when Dean made his way back inside the bunker, his hands covered in grease and oil from his work tuning up the Impala. He was wiping his hands on an equally dirty towel as he walked into the kitchen to find his little brother making himself a lunch.

“Please tell me that is not your veggie bacon?” Dean wrinkled his nose as he watched Sam putting together a BLT, the various ingredients strewn about the island.

“Fine, then I won’t tell you,” Sam didn’t bother to look up from his task to answer his brother. The look of disgust only depended on Dean’s face as he moved around his sibling to wash his hands in the sink.

The older hunter glanced over his shoulder as the sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder, his gaze landing on a disheveled Y/n. The sweats that hung from her body were wrinkled and she had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. There were lines across the left side of her face, indicating she had been sleeping recently. Worry instantly flooded his system as it was unlike their hunting partner to sleep this late unless she was ill.

“Sam, what did you do with my heating pad?” her voice was coarse as she didn’t even bother with pleasantries. No ‘hello’, no ‘ how are you’, just straight to whatever business she had in with the younger Winchester.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s in the linen closet in the bathroom?” Sam answered, completely unperturbed by her callousness.

“So you put my heating pad in the bathroom,” Y/n rolled her eyes and Sam could only offer her a bewildered nod. “What is with you guys and not being able to put shit back where you found it?” The huntress turned on her heel, not waiting for a response before heading to retrieve the item she was seeking.

Sam looked over his shoulder at his older brother, his brows knit together in the middle of his forehead. “What the hell was that?”

“What’s the one thing Y/n uses her heating pad for?” Dean’s lips cured up on one side as he watched the look of realization flash across his brother’s features. The oldest Winchester dried his hands before peeking in the fridge and a few cupboards. “Looks like she could use a supply run. You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m just going to retreat to my room and pretend like I don’t exist for the rest of the day,” Sam picked up the plate that held his lunch and scurried off, leaving a chuckling Dean behind.

****

The only light filling her room came from the laptop that was perched in her lap, playing some television show she had stopped paying attention to a while ago, and the filtered light from the hall through the slats in her door. The huntress was still curled into a ball under her covers, attempting to use what little bit of heat from her computer she could muster as she had been unsuccessful in located her heating pad. She felt bad for ripping into Sam about it, but the truth was he had misplaced her belongings, something that she found happened often around the Winchesters, and she was over it today. Pain tended to make her grumpy, as it did most people, and she wasn’t going to apologize for being pissed at their carelessness.

A soft rapping against her door had her pausing the show as she shoved the device aside. The guest didn’t wait for a response before they pushed the door open, bringing with them a flood of light. Y/n cringed at the sudden change, hiding her face behind her hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Dean’s familiar chuckle sounded before the click of the latch indicated he had closed the door behind him. “I come bearing gifts.”

“What?” she was confused by his words as she dropped her hand and allowed her eyes to adjust back to the relative darkness.

“Your water bottle, half ice, half water,” he set the green canteen on her bedside table. “The heating pad Sammy somehow managed to lose behind the washing machine,” Dean handed her the light green pad folded neatly with the cord sitting on top. Y/n sighed a breath of relief as the eldest Winchester continued. “And a sharable size bag of dark chocolate peanut M&M’s.”

“Dean,” Y/n caught the purple bag as he tossed it her way, biting back a gleeful moan. “I fucking love you.” She unceremoniously tore into the bag and popped a couple of the chocolate candies into her mouth, missing the rush of blood on the Winchester’s cheeks.

“And finally,” he mimicked a drum roll with his mouth and procured a box from his arms, placing it on her bedside table. The woman frowned, unable to make out the object at first in the darkness.

“You bought me tampons? How,” she trailed off, not only awestruck by the hunter’s gesture but amazed at his attention to detail as she read the label.

“There is only one thing you need your heating pad for,” he remarked as he took the referenced object back to plug it into an outlet for her. “Also, you never snap at Sammy.”

“But how did you know what kind to buy?”

“Kind of hard not to when you have a box of them stashed away in Baby’s trunk,” Dean countered as he perched himself on the edge of her bed.

“Hey, those are for emergencies. Besides, I’m sure Baby understands.”

“I’m sure she does.”

Y/n chewed on the inside of her cheek as she fiddled with the bag of candy in her lap, the kindness shown by Dean throwing her off. She offered the open bag to her hunting partner, who snatched a handful for himself with a grin.

“Thank you, Dean, seriously. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” her voice was low as the admittance slipped past her lips. “Want to watch some Scooby-Doo with me? You know, if you aren’t busy or anything?”

“I’d love to, sweetheart,” Dean winked at her, that shit-eating grin never leaving his face even as he stood and shucked off his jacket and boots so he could climb into the bed next to her. “Who could pass up Daphne?”

The huntress sat back against the headboard with a roll of her eyes and switched the streaming show on her laptop before unfolding her already warmed heating pad and laid it across her lower abdomen. She moved the laptop at the end of the bed so they could both see it and set the bag of M&M’s between her and Dean to share.

The two settled into the cartoon, laughing in unison at the ridiculous parts and commenting on how the Scooby gang couldn’t have handled that monster had it been real. Three episodes passed by before a shredding cramp ripped through her stomach, the shock of it enough that she was unable to hide the groan as she had been so far.

“You okay?” Dean shifted in his spot next to her, his head turning from the kids’ show to his friend beside him.

“No, I’m not okay. It feels like my internal organs are attempting to exit my body,” she snapped, instantly regretting it when Dean subtly recoiled. “Shit, I’m sorry. I--I didn’t mean…” Y/n was cut off as the pain returned just as intense as it had been moments ago, causing her to roll onto her side and into a ball, clutching the heat of the pad against her body like a lifeline.

“Alright,” Dean huffed before moving the candy and laptop from the bed. Y/n could hear the hunter shift behind her, but her eyes were clamped shut as she tried to breathe through the pain like she was experiencing the contractions of labor of something. She felt the hard lines of his body lock around the curves of her own and his arm snake around her abdomen. His hand rested over hers as he pulled her tight against him, putting more pressure than she had been able to muster against her lower belly. “I’ve got you.”

The heat of his body on one side and the pad against her stomach, combined with the force he was exerting on her uterus, finally allowed her to relax fully for the first time since she had awoken that morning. She never wanted to leave this moment, utterly content in the peace that his presence in her bed brought her. The idea scared her a little, but she figured that was a problem for another day. Now she chose to just live in this moment for as long as he would let her.

“Why?” she muttered into the dark space after she was sure he had fallen asleep as his grip had relented a touch and his breathing evened out, hoping he wouldn’t answer but knowing she had to ask.

“Cause I wanted to,” his voice was gruff, indicating he had probably been on the cusp of falling asleep when she spoke up. “I hate seeing you like this. Figured it was the least I could do.”

“Dean Winchester, are you going soft on me?” she quirked up one corner of her lips, unable to fight the giddiness his words instilled in her chest.

“Sweetheart, there is nothing soft about me when I’m around you,” he chuckled, earning himself an elbow to the gut. He grunted and the two of them fell into a fit of laughter.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” The hunter was ready for her arm this time, his hand moving to wrap around her forearm and pull it into him so as to trap her even tighter than before in his embrace. Y/n struggled against his hold, giggling like an idiot as the two wrestled in the bed a moment before she relented that he was much stronger than she.

“Honestly,” Dean placed a gentle kiss to her shoulder once she had settled, only encouraging her to melt further into his arms. “I’d do anything to make you smile, Y/n.”

“Well, then mission accomplished, Winchester,” she turned her head to flash him a genuine smile to which he reciprocated before planting his pillow-soft lips against hers.

P.S. I didn't even try on this title because this is just a little therapy piece and therefore no one should judge me.

Forevers: @22sarah08 @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @anathewierdo @asgoodasdancingqueen @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @briagallen @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deandreamernp @deangirl93 @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @janicho88 @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @lunarmoon8 @lyarr24 @mishacollins4evah @miss-nerd95 @mrsjenniferwinchester @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93 @sleepylunarwolf @squirrelnotsam @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @suckmyapplejacks @supraveng @tatted-trina6 @thoughts-and-funnies @traceyaudette @tranquility-or-chaos @waywardbeanie @winchest09

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #spn fic #alex writes #mine #a period drama

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

Leorio, Hisoka, Illumi, and Chrollo Head Canons #2

What’s up y’all! Thank you so much to the people who have given me feedback about what posts you all would like to see! This post will be about the “Adult Trio” and Leorio about how they would help their significant other with a subject in college. This one is a good suggestion! I’m going to incorporate fluff in this, as I am a sucker for fluff. I hope you all enjoy this! I most certainly do. This post is about 2687 words but don't worry, it's worth the read! These head canons came from my mind its a coincidence that some of these pictures match the thoughts. Portentous (old English) means wonderful or marvelous (in modern English) FYI: I am thinking about creating a discord server for both Voltron and Hunter x Hunter fans. I don’t know how to use the fancy perks of discord yet, so if you know how to and can help me out, send me a message! Alright, let’s get to it! Obviously these images are from Pinterest.

Discord Server for Voltron and HxH fans!

Leorio

“Mr. Leorio”, as we all know, is a sharp guy. He dresses in a suit, carries a suitcase, and wants to be a doctor. This man knows everything about academics, especially math and science. He will need to know these subjects to be a successful medical doctor.

Leorio received an A- in Calculus II and a B+ in Organic Chemistry. He was the only one that passed with flying colors while everyone else barely made it. He didn’t gloat in their faces but as soon as he got into the hallway he jumped for joy.

He was extremely happy about his progress and counted the days until graduation even though that was in 5 years. Wow! Don’t we love graduate school?!

He deserved the high grades because he spent countless nights studying missing parties, football games, and being with you just to make sure he was on the right track to graduating on time.

As we all know, Leorio wanted to pursue this career because he witnessed his best friend dying in front of him powerless to save him. The care for his friend would have been too expensive. Obtaining his degree was in honor of his friend; he’d save countless children, women, and men who’d all thank him for his hard work.

Leorio didn’t socialize much, but he did find himself hanging around a group of classmates that were a part of a co-ed fraternity that provided information on scholarship money for graduate school and job opportunities. This is where he met you. You didn’t want to be a doctor but instead wanted to be a computer scientist and decided to volunteer for this fraternity job fair.

As he rejoiced, his smile faded when he saw you walking down the hallway; tears falling from your face not caring who stared at you. He quickly walked up to you, put his arm around your back, and gave you a soft hug.

“What’s the matter,” he asks.

You were failing Calculus, a class you’ve been taking since the 12th grade but for some reason, you couldn’t pass it. Everyone else had A’s and B’s, while you had a D. D’s aren't accaetable in college; most make you retake the class.

“Don’t worry. I’ve just passed my midterm. I can help you study. You’ll pass; trust me.”

Later on that evening, he kept his promise but gave it a unique twist. He kept the lights off and lit 4 Yankee-sized candles in the room that smelled like Lavender. In the background, he had piano jazz playing on his speaker. You felt confused for a moment. You and Leorio weren’t necessarily dating but you both flirted with each other here and there. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he felt comfortable talking to you.

“Um...what’s the music for?”

“It helps me concentrate. Believe it or not, it helps my brain flow. You like it don’t you?”

“No, actually I don’t.” Truth be told you loved it but you wanted to pull his strings a little. He looked up with a confused look.

“Ok. I’ll turn it off.”

“I'm kidding! It’s great!”

Whenever he cannot solve a Calculus question, he reviews similar problems from Algebra II. He applies this knowledge to your problem.

“Perform the indicated function evaluations for f(x)=3−5x−2x^2 . I’ll solve the first part for an example: f(6+t) simply means you will exchange “x” for 6+t. It will look like f(6+t)=3-5(6+t)-2(6+t)^2=-49 . You’d distribute -5 and -2 to the numbers inside of the brackets in which they are next to.”

Wow, that was easy! Wait, not he must think you’re stupid.

“You must think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“Of course not! It took me a while to understand it too. You’ll apply the same knowledge for the rest.”

After what seemed like 4 hours (which was 2), you finally finished your homework! It was probably wrong but at least you made it past the 1st question! As you blew out the candles and turned on your LED lights instead, you see Leorio sleeping on your couch. Something about his soft face made you smile and place your hand over your heart.

“My little doctor,” you whispered to yourself.

“Well, come give this doctor some company then. I’m freezing over here!”

The throw blanket was large enough for you both. Snuggling on the couch was a great end to a stressful day.

Chrollo

To everyone else Chrollo was “Boss” or “Boss Man” but to you, he was Chrollo. Big C was known for his love for poetry and language.

He read poetry any chance he had at lunch and even dinner. It had gotten so bad that you had to tell him for the millionth time “No books at the table!”

Given his past, he always read at least 2 hours a day or one book a week. Reading is what got him through the day.

He was staying in your dorm for the day to relax because he had taken and passed his midterms to. The young thief thought about hiding in the closet but he didn’t because he sensed that you’d be tense because of midterms.

As you walked through the door, you looked angry, so angry that you could punch a wall. He immediately rose to his feet, threw his arms straight out in front of him, and motioned for you to stop. You just stared at him blankly.

“Come here,” he said like you, on cue, melted in his arms. He was warm and the deepness of his cooing voice vibrated against your neck. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m failing this stupid Shakespeare class!”

“Really?”

“Yes and if I don’t pass this midterm I’m going to fail the class for the 3rd time. I want to drop out! Who needs this scam anyway?!”

Chrollo held you a bit longer until you were ready to sit down and get to business. You pulled out your college’s book about Shakespeare plays and how he used Old English. Chrollo was the perfect man for the job! He’s read Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet several times!

Chrollo read a few stanzas and explained them. He then had you read some on your own and explain them...still you can’t.

He notices the problem immediately. He catches you snuggling comfortably against his toned arm, nearly falling asleep.

Chrollo laid at the very corner of the couch as you lay horizontally placing your head against his chest. You were comfortable but you weren’t able to focus. He notices this and slightly demands that you go sit at the table. When it came to academics, he was serious.

For as long as he had been reading, he has an arsenal of vocabulary words ready to be of use. He created flashcards for you and had you flip them over for nearly an hour. You start to memorize the words!

But you’re not done yet.

“Say the word ‘portentous’.”

“Por-ten-trious…?”

“No. Por-ten-tas.”

“Tias…?”

He moved his chair next to you, just an inch away from your face. He cups your mouth and moves it as he speaks again. This wasn’t a hard clutch, it was soft and he wasn’t irritated but he could sense that you were becoming irritated.

“Por-ten-tas,” he said again.

Instead of letting your cheeks go, his eyes diverted to your lips. They were moist and plump, ready to be met by his.

“Your lips are gorgeous. Kisseth me quite quaint.”

Oh no. Look at the monster you’ve created.

Chrollo created a reward system. Whenever he did things right as a child, he was rewarded with money and jewels. For every word you pronounced and defined correctly, he kissed you once. For each word you got correct in a row, he’d kiss you twice.

Soon enough he had kissed you so much that you couldn’t see straight!

The kisses worked because you passed your midterm! Each kiss placed a stain in your brain that made you remember the definition and how to pronounce it.

You and Chrollo celebrated by drinking champagne and listened to him read Sonnet 23 and 57.

Hisoka

As unusual as it seems, Hisoka is gifted when it comes to Chemistry specifically. That is why you two work well together...there is some chemistry going on between you two.

His hair down and his glasses were his alter ego, it was something that made him act completely different than what you were used to.

When you all were freshmen, he would skip class, attend parties, and would be hungover almost every week but once he was called into the Dean’s office, he changed.

You slightly missed that edgy side of him, but you enjoyed having a serious beau.

Hisoka is a social butterfly and is the life of the conversation and you loved him for it but sometimes it was awkward.

While he was chatting away about Calcium (Ca) and Iron (Fe), you stood there nodding like an idiot. You had NO IDEA about what he was talking about and that is why you were going to drop your chemistry class.

“I saw an imbecile put aluminum foil in the microwave and it burst into flames. How did they not know that Microwaves are the radio waves falling under frequency around 2500 megahertz? Any metallic object detected by radio waves inside the microwave acts as a reflector of radio waves.”

You shove his arm hard. He was acting arrogant in front of his friends. You were used to this but it got on your nerves. You made mistakes, everyone does!...even those that almost burn down the entire dorm room.

You two leave the party and head to his dorm room. Once you were settled, you released a can of anger and threw it all over your boyfriend.

“Hisoka? You just humiliated me.”

“Oh? No one knows that I was talking about you, my dear.”

“Don’t ‘my dear’ me! I asked for your help and you’re ignoring me. I don’t appreciate that. I didn’t ignore you when you sprained your ankle, did I?”

“No, you didn’t, dear. I supposed I have a few hours to kill. What do you need help with?”

Hisoka’s way of studying was much different from other students. He exercises like crazy before he opens his textbook.

He listens to EDM instrumentals while on the treadmill and when he lifts weights. You weren’t standing there like a trophy, he made you lift too.

“Being healthy will help your brain flow more easily. Lift this dumbbell as heavy as you can.”

He ran a mile on the track upstairs. Sweat dripped from his face like he had been standing outside in the rain.

By the time you returned to his dorm, you were beyond tired. You laid your head on his pillow but just as you closed your eyes, he pulled you up on your feet.”

“Not on my watch,” he tutted. “It’s chemistry time.”

You were having trouble memorizing Chemical Formulas and this by far was the most difficult concept you had come across.

To make you stay awake, he turned on a bright LED light and faced it towards the table. The bright light nearly made your head fall off from the pain it reflected in your eyes.

Hisoka grabbed his book and began to write down the major chemicals on the periodic table and their charges.

“Pay attention to the following abbreviations and charges: Calcium is Ca, Chloride is Cl+2, Carbide is C+2, and Carbon Dioxide is CO+2. Read these over and I’ll test you again.”

He did just that but you still weren’t understanding. You were ready to give up.

Stupid scam. Why do I need a piece of paper to determine what I can do? You thought to yourself. Well, it’s obvious. If you can’t do the work now, what makes you think you can do it at a job? Harsh, I know.

“Let me try this,” He said. He carried you to his bedroom and gently placed you on it. He took off his shirt and removed his glasses. “Aluminum has a charge of +3 and Oxygen has -2. If there were three of me and two of my clones disappeared, how many of me are left?”

“Just you, right? One”

“Correct! Excellent.”

Wow, everything started making sense once he took his shirt off.

From then, he just inserted himself into the equation and then it started to make sense! He apologized for running his mouth earlier and promised to keep any more secrets between you two. The night ended with you sleeping in his bed wrapped in a cotton blanket just cuddling and that was it. And bam! You slept as sound.

Illumi

Dating the “hot” quiet history buff was a flex of its own. Sure Illumi didn’t talk to anyone besides you, but it didn’t matter. People swooned if he looked in their direction.

History was a popular major during your era. People were not like their grandparents; they wanted to learn about other cultures besides their own. Illumi’s specialty was in world history and civilizations. The class was very interesting to you but there was so much information, you could barely process it.

Illumi often wrote his essays in one day proofread and all! He often charged people to look their essays over.

One time he made $500 in one year!

Glancing at your transcripts, he notices that you have a C- and offers to help.

“Why are you looking through my stuff?”

Hey, he’s your boyfriend! But still, he should ask.

“Sorry. It was up on the screen,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

You began to blush in embarrassment. The hottest smartest man in the building now knew that you were failing one of the easiest classes on campus.

Placing his thumb under your chin, he lifted your head to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can help you.”

“How? I am so behind! I zoned out after chapter 2!”

“We’ll watch a movie.”

“Oh, God! Not one from PBS is it?!”

“Yes. How else are you supposed to learn?”

He turns on the movie and allows you to lay your head on his shoulder but not too much. He is aware of your tricks and he wants you to pay attention.

Every 15 minutes, he pauses the movie and asks you checkpoint questions. If you got them wrong, you had to stand up with your underclothes on (t-shirt and shorts) in the cool room for 10 minutes. If you got the questions right, he allows you to lay more comfortably. You were already in your underclothes but you were under the blanket.

He made you write down key definitions and the embarrassment of each section.

After the movie, he blindfolds you and reads out a term. Surprisingly, you got them all correct!

As a reward for your past midterm, he takes you to dinner at a restaurant where he slips a promise ring on your finger containing your birthstone.

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epicene-humanoid · 3 years

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some trans Jeff thoughts:

he realized he was trans in elementary school and just went fuck it I'll just start introducing myself as Jeffery and see if anyone decides to stop me (as we know, jeff winger can get away with almost anything)

he got top surgery the second he could afford it (around the same time he started at his law firm), and probably bribed someone to keep it a secret

"I'm jeff winger and i would rather look at myself naked than the women I sleep with" are the words of a man proud of his transition

he's really insecure about his fashion sense, which is why he mostly dresses like the douchey guys at his firm in the start of the show, he thought you can't go wrong with the sleazy lawyer look

he will never admit it but he feels super good about the dean hitting on him, because the dean is a (cis) guy, acknowledging that Jeff is more manly than him

i think he starts out stealth and comes out to everyone one by one, probably starting with abed because he knows abed won't judge him and will probably just see it as an interesting backstory.

abed just says it's cool and maybe worth a prequel exploring Jeff's transition, and jeff asks him to predict how all of the members of the group will react to him coming out.

abed's predictions:

britta will be over-the-top supportive and do a ton of research about trans history, probably put together a slideshow just to prove how progressive she is, and jeff will be a little bit weirded out, but also touched that she did all that for him, though he would never let her know that

shirley will be confused, because she doesn't know how someone she trusts and knows so well could be part of a group she was raised to hate, but ultimately realizes that there's nothing actually against the lgbtq people in the bible, and, as a cool character development arch, starts to advocate against use of the bible to justify bigotry

troy will just think it over and decide that Jeff's physique and coolness are even awesomer knowing how much work he'd had to put in to be like that, and respects Jeff's manliness even more

annie will give him a hug, say something sweet about how she'll always love him, and worry about his health, because even she read somewhere that taking testosterone makes you more likely to have a heart attack, jeff will explain that the risk is still only as high a cis guy, and she'll be the one to always remind him to take his shots

peirce will say at best say "jeff winger used to be a chick?" and at worst call him a slur, either way there's sure to be a lot of misgendering from him, and pestering to know Jeff's deadname (needless to say, Jeff just doesn't tell peirce)

the whole group goes out of their way to keep their beach trips a secret from pierce (the girls don't want him there anyways, he's too liable to be creepy) even though jeff knows that even if pierce saw his scars, all he would have to do is make up a story about some childhood accident and pierce would never question it

sorry this ended up being super long. can I hear some of your headcanons for him?

YES ALL THIS!!! yes yes i’m fully accepting this as canon oh my god

i’m about to type a whole ass ESSAY at midnight because i have been DYING to talk about this for months ajfdksljk,,, this is going to be obscenely long and i might end up adding even more to it as i continue to rewatch the show because there is truly no shortage of trans jeff content (especially when you’re trans and see transness in every little thing ajdkslfkjs)

spoiler warning for literally everything about this show under the cut <3

i 100% agree, i feel like he realized he was trans super young, especially since in the show we see him as a little kid a couple of times.

like look at little jeff with the oversized sweatshirt and little ponytail!! that’s childhood trans fashion. not to be dramatic but part of me thinks that jeff’s dad left before he fully came out to his family (which gives him even more angst about it, because until that one Thanksgiving episode, he’s never able to prove to his dad that he’s a better man), but part of me thinks that his dad left after he came out (which adds that spicy i-should-have-stayed-in-the-closet guilt that he has to work through).

either way, because his dad wasn’t there, he had to base his concept of masculinity on something else, which was becoming a lawyer!! there’s some line that’s like “after the dust and divorce papers were settled the only man i looked up to was [the lawyer guy]”. like, replacing your father figure in your mind with the concept of “a job where you can talk your way in and out of anything and distort other people’s concept of reality”? that’s trans.

and the fucking THANKSGIVING EPISODE... i struggle to watch it without crying hehe <3 yeowch! the dichotomy of willy jr. being the “wrong” kind of man because he’s “too soft” but jeff also not being enough despite adhering to all the social standards of masculinity... fuck!! this whole scene of him telling his dad “i am Not well adjusted” and talking about how he gave himself an “appendix surgery scar” when he was a kid and he still keeps the get-well-soon letters from his classmates under his bed? oh my god. the implication of people loving him not despite his scars but because of them?? trans. i can’t think about this episode for too long or i’ll start yelling.

OH and this scene? where he talks about how his mom got him a girl costume for halloween?? and everyone said “what a cute little girl” and after a few houses he stopped correcting them?? and “once the shame and the fear wore off, i was just glad they thought i was pretty”?? THAT’S TRANS... the man needs validation oh my god... and then in all the halloween episodes we see he has these ultra-masculine costumes (a cowboy, David Beckham, one of the fast and furious guys even though he never watched the movies, a boxer with his DAD’S boxing gloves... god) costumes are about becoming something else and he always chooses to be hypermasculine and that is trans.

THE PHYSICAL EDUCATION EPISODE!!!!!!! being uncomfortable during P.E. is a queer experience. period. but him being specifically uncomfortable in the clothes someone else is assigning to him? trans. “are we gonna talk about clothes like a girl? or use tapered sticks to hit balls around a cushioned mat like a man?” TRANS. and him eventually stripping in public? celebration of transness. and the fact that he eventually becomes comfortable in both the uniform and his own style!! trans!! god i love this episode.

AND AND AND!!! the gay dean coming out episode!!! where it’s the three of them discussing the best way for the dean to come out as gay despite not entirely identifying with that label!! so we have both frankie and the dean who are sort of ambiguously queer, and jeff who’s a stealth trans man who’s probably only out to only the study group at this point. this scene where the dean and jeff have this like eyebrow communication while frankie is talking is just so cute. queer-to-queer communication. “I am so curious” “oh?” “intellectually.” “oh...” ajfdksljfk this scene just screams high school GSA to me and i love it so much.

and SPEAKING of the dean!! i totally see you on that. i feel like jeff has some internalized homophobia/biphobia (like he’d throw punches over someone else, but when it comes to himself he has a lot of shame). and also seeing the dean so confident in all his different outfits/costumes has a weird affect on him bc it’s like “okay, the dean, a cis guy, can do that, but i as a trans guy could Not because that’s Breaking the Rules”. which, like, throwback to the halloween thing. of course there’s no right way to be masculine, but mr. winger does not know that.

another thing!! the episode where their emails get leaked? that includes his emails with his therapist. fuck!! he was outed to the whole world in that episode!! no wonder he was so fucking angry!! this whole episode (and really any time he mentions his therapist) is so interesting when you think about them as a person he talks to about his transition. OH which adds to the thing with the dean!! “and you told your therapist you wanted to be alone this weekend” and “not you jeff, i know you’ll be visiting your dad” ”I told you to stop reading my emails”. luckily his study group has his back and just makes fun of him for emailing astronauts lmao

and WHO can forget “they’re giving out an award for most handsome young man!!!!” what else is there to say about this line besides: he’s trans. you know he didn’t get awarded enough for being a handsome young man when he was a kid, and no amount of compliments when he’s fully-grown can really make up for that. some people crash a kid’s bar mitzvah to cope with the fact that they struggled to be seen as themselves when they were a teenager <3

also his weird relationship with pierce? where he kind of hates him (understandably lmao) but at times has this almost-friends-almost-father-son relationship with him? especially in this episode where he’s forced to bond with him and ends up having a good time by accident (at a barber shop no less, the perfect place to Be A Man with your Man Friend). idk what to say about him besides the fact that pierce says his mom wanted a girl when he was born and made him dress like a girl (and his middle name is anastasia!) so if they’re gonna do any bonding over transness it’s gonna be that.

okay one last thing and then i’ll shut up for the night. this episode kills me (and almost kills jeff hahahahelpi’mcrying). it’s a very Trans thing to not be able to visualize your future self, it just is. growing up trans at the time he did? i don’t know what kind of future he saw for himself, but i’m so happy that he ended up with a group of friends who became his family and love him the way they all do. i’m so emotional over this asshole it’s ridiculous.

in conclusion:

they’re trans, your honor <3

#community #jeff winger #trans jeff winger #GOD i'm gonna make a video essay about it if nobody stops me #yall know that youtube channel AreTheyGay? i want to be that but AreTheyTrans #the videos would just b like... jeff community. neo the matrix. bill and ted bill and ted. audrey little shop of horrors. jo little women.#maybe i should start that youtube channel sjdfklsj #thank you for prompting me to talk about this because i think about it twice a day #i might end up reblogging this and just adding different responses jeff has had to casually homophobic/transphobic things that happen #in the show #like the episode that last photo is from when the dean is like #'spring transfer student dance isn't rolling off the tongue so we're calling it The Tr@nny Dance!' 'much more greendale.'#OH AND ACCIDENTALLY KILLING PIERCE'S DAD!!! HOW DID I NOT MENTION THAT EARLIER SJFKLSJ #'you LITERALLY killed a father!' 'well not MINE dummy!!'#alright i need to do my homework now ajfklsdjfl

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emily-the-fae · 3 years

Text

Every Day is a Lullaby

A oneshot. This honestly came to my mind yesterday night, I do not know how well the idea turned out to be.

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x OC

Warnings:probably language, blood, injury, background character death, brief mentions of sex, angst mith mix of fluff

Rated: T

Mr Ketch has many sides, likable and repulsing - but which one of his faces is truly his is sometimes an uncertainty even for him.

Harper reflects on the changes on their relationship as they get out of a hunt gone wrong. While Ketch reconsiders some of his past choices... And reasons why he is still alive.

If he's a serial killer

Then what's the worst

That can happen to a girl

Who's already hurt

I'm already hurt

The first time Harper met him was a coincidence. It was long before the whole nephilim thing, long before she found out what kind of man he was, what kind of hunter he was. Yet even back then in the span of their first couple of meetings she felt he was no good.

A stupid hunting coincidence.

Harper was not used to hunting alone. She did that to herself - separated herself from the Winchesters. However much she loved Sam and Dean, she could not bear continuously being around them, not after everything that happened. Not after Charlie. Because no matter what Dean said or how Sam reassured her - it was her fault. Charlie was a great friend. Charlie had the brightest soul. Harper was late to help her and now Charlie was no more. It was all Harper's fault.

Driving away and going head first into hunting was the outmost Winchester way of dealing with the guilt and grief. Hunting alone while slowly coming out of her lowest phase - those were the circumstances under which Harper met Arthur Ketch.

The first time it happened it was a coincidence - two hunters choosing the same target is not uncommon. Harper was already on spot and all in the fight when he arrived. "Are you insane going into a whole vampire nest alone?" - those were the first words she ever heard from him. She might have been slightly insane, but he sure was a damn psycho. To be honest if not for him she would have probably ended up dead or turned in that vampire nest that night. Harper hates being honest about it.

The second coincidence happened just a few days after the first one - she would later on doubt if it was a coincidence at all. Perhaps it was. Harper would never really know - what she did know though was that he still had a small scar left above his left eyebrow - a mark of where she hit him with the grip of her gun, thinking it was the witch that was creeping up to her and absolutely not expecting to hear a male voice swearing after her blow. Arthur had not known her for 24 hours in sum and they were already making a scene after a hunt - Harper almost pitied she had not knocked him out straight away.

What happened on the next day? He caught her in the town and suggested to team up to avoid "future confusions". Rule number one how to become friends with Arthur Ketch: hit him in the face. Harper wasn't going to become friends with him - with any hunters for that matter - but fate seldom cared what Harper was going to do anyways.

Harper definitely lied to herself when she said that they were going to be only friends or that she was going to hate him after all the British Men of Letters invasion story. She didn't. Not with the way they met in the first place: him ripping her out of the claws of the angry remnants of the vampire pack - slightly concerned greyish blue eyes and a British accent was what greeted her at dawn that day, even though mid in fight she had accepted she would not see the sun again. It seemed symbolic how he saved her from giving up, from herself. And certainly not after the way their relationship went from mutual curiosity to blind semi-professional trust. Harper did not need a "friend" to console her: if she had wanted that she would have stayed around Sam - she needed someone unfeeling but understanding enough to see through her and consciously let it be.

She remembered it clearly - three hunts into their relationship - a month after their first encounter - they were sharing a hotel room. Two beds, late night after a hunt, she lied on her side and quietly cried. It was a demon hunt. The memories were too much. Arthur came into view and stared at her for a couple of moments before walking to his own bed.

- I'd say you can talk about it when you want to, but I doubt you will ever feel the necessity, - a brief caress of his hand against her shoulder. He did not try to relieve her, he allowed her to get to her own way of coping. For that Harper was grateful more than ever. - We all have skeletons in our closets, it's the downturn of the job.

Oh, dear Arthur, we are both now aware you knew far too well what you were talking about. Harper doubted any hunter had a closet cemetery as large as Ketch's.

Yet... Even after that - the awkward reuniting with the Winchesters, being pulled away from him as she came back to her old friends and witnessing, luckily from a safe distance, how the man she grew to trust without actually knowing him, uncovered darker and darker sides of his personality. What was worst - after she refused to join the BMoL, he would continue to sometimes keep her hunting company, going on like nothing happened. Like nothing changed. Why worst? It let the image of the heartless killer that she should have seen before her now connect and combine with the image of the man who would patch her up on her darkest nights and put a firm hand on her shoulder when Harper was too deep in memory to restrain herself. His presence around her became a reassurance in itself - because he did not have to know to understand. And because he simply had not been there - looking into his eyes Harper wouldn't get reminded of the times when everything was still right, wouldn't get reminded of that one time everything went very wrong. Probably those were the main qualities that helped him win a spot in her heart. Those and his unending casual flirting.

And now? After everything was over, after his very dark side was revealed, the confessions were made and the redemption was played, what did she think of him? The hunter, turned out just a very well trained assassin - he had served the British Men of Letters, he had served Asmodeus - now here he was separated from any commanding he ever had, living a hunting life of his own and sometimes collaborating with the Winchesters. Therewere many dark moments forgotten for the sake of peace. Many more had yet to come up - judging by how Ketch treated his own history and interests of others.

" - I wonder where Mick went, he was always so nice... Nicer than you, anyways. Pity he went away all of a sudden, - Harper mentioned once after a hunt.

- He did not go anywhere. I shot him in the head just like Hess ordered, - Ketch seemed calm and cold as steel. " Sometimes Harper thought that leaving BMoL would change him, but moments like that she realized how slowly the changes - if any - would have to occur. That night she simply walked away, not saying another word.

If anyone ever asked Harper how Arthur's spot in her heart had shifted after all the mess he had caused? She would say that he never even had one... And think that truth to be told there was no flame hot enough to burn him out of her chest - his name carved on her ribs would have been easier to get rid of than the bittersweet affection she harboured for the moral wreck of a man named Arthur Ketch.

If he's as bad as they say

Then I guess I'm cursed

Looking into his eyes

I think he's already hurt

He's already hurt

Despite that Harper never dared pursue a relationship. Why? She was very sure with people like Ketch the only right strategy was not to expect them to be capable of attachment. The flirting, the sweet promising looks he would give her after a well-accomplished hunt... Harper would dream of believing them to be genuine. She was very well aware thinking him in any way genuine was a risk she was not ready to take. She knew Ketch would not mind letting that affair happen - he made that quite clear. She also knew it would mean absolutely nothing to him apart from some company and a warm body in his bed. Arthur Ketch was cold, unemotional and taught himself well not to get attached to anyone - and even if that was not true, he tried his damn best to make it seem so.

Harper sometimes hoped she saw it in his eyes: a silent "please keep safe" when they would part after a hunt, a sparking "I missed you" when they would meet once again. Arthur sometimes hoped she would see it too - very deep in his soul, deeper than he would ever be able to admit even to himself.

In other words, the outcome of the new hunt would have presented itself sooner or later anyways. They were actually quite lucky to have it present itself the way it did.

The werewolf did not seem such a hard target - away from bigger packs, alone terrorizing the neighborhood - just because he could. Problem and solution crystal clear - a hunt where one clearly sees the root of evil is a blessing for a hunter that's used to all the versions of heartbreaking stories. What Harper did not so clearly see was the gun in their opponent's hands. To be more precise: she did see it, but a little too late.

Two gunshots rang at the same time: her silver bullet hitting right into the monster's heart and his normal one - ... Ketch fell against the wall, sliding down to the floor: his left shoulder bled, the bulletproof vest, even though being pierced in the thinner area, had preserved him from being too deeply injured - but not kept completely safe from wounding.

Several seconds of silence - making sure the werewolf is not a threat anymore - realisation and fear finally hitting Harper.

- Ketch?... Ketch?!... Arthur! - the hunter was too disoriented to answer and his silence was taken as a bad sign. - Oh Lord, Arthur, no! - gone are the self-restraint and professional coldness: the moment she sees blood on his chest, she rushes to his side, forgetting about everything else in the world. She needs to make sure he will be fine. He has to be. - Arthur, please, don't die on me! Arthur! - she calls for his attention, the hunter slowly regaining his senses.

For a moment there he believes he hears Tony. This reminds him of some of his unlucky hunts from the years before, though back then he had certainly had it worse. Besides this definitely was not Tony.

Tony would have said "Ketch's down" and carry on with the hunt, eyes on the target, and when the deed was done she would pass him with a short "How is it?" - more out of politeness than genuine caring. That was exactly what she did the only two times he had been seriously injured infront of her.

- Ketch, answer me right this instant, don't you dare fading out! - panic in her voice, genuine. The idea of someone caring as much as to panic at the thought of his death seems too good to be true - for him at least. Arthur feels hands investigating his chest, checking for the wound: cold thin fingers running over his blood-covered skin. Not Tony - Harper.

- I'll live, darling, it's nothing too serious, - attempting to sound confident, but his voice is rasp. It's nothing serious, but it hurt nonetheless: the blow on the shoulder was much harder than anticipated and the bleeding needed to be stopped.

Harper looks into the light blue, borderline grey eyes - he is staring up at her, his gaze unguarded only for a moment that lets her see the uncommon softness and hope in his expression - just for a moment - she believes the things she guessed about him were true, she believes the pain visible in his eyes is true, only by accident revealed to her. The state lasts only a couple of moments - but even that is more than enough for his visible emotions to imprint into her mind.

Arthur Ketch was able to feel. Arthur Ketch could be in pain. Arthur Ketch was capable of needing help.

I said "Don't be a jerk, don't call me a taxi"

Sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat ooh-ooh

I just wanna dance with you

Hollywood and Vine, Black Rabbit in the alley

I just wanna hold you tight down the avenue ooh

I just wanna dance with you

It was a wonder that the hotel clerk did not stop them on their way - Ketch looked positively dying - Harper was quite sure there was no legal thing that could have happened to him that would have explained this appearance. This was the reason normal hunters chose motels: less suspicion. Harper briefly wondered where he got the money to maintain his former lifestyle, since he was stripped of the BMoL funding, but she guessed there were other sources on his side and he was just too stubborn to change his ways.

When they stumbled into his hotel room, Arthur made a move to drop himself on the bed, but Harper grabbed him by the collar swiftly, dragging him away in the other direction.

- Ketch don't you dare stain the sheets, they'll report us, - she mumbled, pushing him to enter the bathroom and dropping him to sit on the edge of the tub.

He would have laughed if the sudden movement had not caused sharp pain to shoot through his damaged shoulder, making him wince. Alexandra. He had wondered for so long whom Harper reminded him of and out of all moments they shared it was this that made him realise. The memory reappeared in his mind so vividly now.

"Artie, no! Don't go to your room, you'll stain your carpet! Mum will kill us!" - and the older girl held him under his arms, guiding him to the kitchen.

He still remembered it: the years before school, before Kendricks, him and his sister mostly alone in the house with parents constantly away. Alexandra had brought him up before Kendricks had. Alexandra had a lovely voice, she would read him bedtime stories, she would sing to him, she was kind and caring - probably the only human being in his life that ever seemed to care. When he went to Kendricks was the last time he had ever seen her... Well, alive. Alexandra was kind and caring - and that was probably the reason why she had not made it through the training. In fact her death might have been the only reason why he survived and made it to the top - having no one care about you has a benefit: you don't have to care about anyone too.

After his sister's funeral life had never felt the same and Arthur had been quite certain before that it was for the better. Now, watching Harper rush about, trying to find the medical kit to help him, he thought that he had been terribly wrong all the damn time.

How long has she known him? A couple of years, not more, but the relationship between them reached beyond the borders of friendship or companionship. That little american hunter - the first time he saw her he thought she was suicidal, the second one - bold and full of sass. The following months proved her well capable of combining both while turning out to be so much more, one of which being: to be able to love Arthur Ketch. Of course he knew she loved him - this was among those traits in her that he openly treated with polite contempt and deep down envied more than anything.

He watched Harper come to his side, sliding his hunting gear off his shoulders - her movements so gentle, her eyes filled with worry and guilt.

- I'm so sorry Arthur, I should have... - you're always sorry. You always think it is your fault and none else's. This was most probably the main reason why it was so easy for him to openly reject her feeling: they both knew she loved him, they both knew he saw it, he toyed with her so many times, being suggestive, flirting. "As long as I enjoy the physical aspects of having an affair, the emotional attachment that other people believe necessary to form is rather pathetic" - he told her once. He actually said that, those were his words. I would like to fuck you as long as you shut your disgustingly human little heart. She stared at him for a moment, her beautiful face almost successfully hiding the hurt - then turned away silently, shrugging her shoulders. He was being a jerk. Harper never stopped him from that, Harper seemed to take it all in and believe he was right, believe that her feeling for him was utterly pathetic. That it was her fault.

- It was no one's mistake, love, it was an unlucky accident. Besides it didn't turn out that awful, - he trailed off. She was cleaning his skin over the wound now, preparing to apply stitches. Arthur could sense a little shudder in her at the word "love". He was so used to saying it that he forgot about all the connotations it held. Lord, was he bad at this.

Harper continued her work silently. She felt him studying her face and prayed to be finished as quick as possible - she did not need another heartbreaking hope and she had already made the mistake of looking into his eyes that night. When the last stitch was done, she turned away to put the materials aside and sensed him straighten up behind her back - Harper felt he wanted to say something else, but she could not give him that opportunity. She almost thought he would die that night - seeing him on the floor made her blood run cold - she did not need any more pain to add to the aftermath of the shock.

- I'm going to my room, but please call me if you feel worse during the night, - she spoke, not turning to face him, ready to walk out of the bathroom. Harper felt his hand grab her wrist in a rushed movement and turned abruptly only to see him staring back at her with unguarded softness in his eyes. The only time she remembered Arthur look at her like that was when she twisted an ankle during the hunt all due to his mistake. It scared her a little to see that expression on him.

- Why won't you just stay to keep an eye on me? - his voice low, with an undertone she so often heard when he flirted with her.

- You're a big boy, Ketch, we both know that even stitching you up was superfluous, you can perfectly well tend to yourself, - a smile. Harper tried to brush it off jokingly, ready to make her leave, but his grasp on her wrist only grew stronger.

- Stay. At least for this night. Please, - the smile disappeared from her face. He sounded wounded, he sounded like he really pleaded. Harper broke away from his grasp, taking a step back.

- You don't need a... - she shook her head.

- But I do, - he stood up, taking a step towards her, not letting her increase the distance between them. His fingers came up to caress her cheek gently. - Harper, stay, - she shut her eyes, standing still and quiet for a couple of seconds, seemingly fighting back emotions.

- You don't mean this, - she said, looking up at him sharply and confidently, but in a moment, failing to restrain herself, she continues more quietly and softly. - Why do you have to be so cruel to me? - he could see tears brimming in her eyes.

They stood frozen in front of each other, her face so close to his, her eyes watering - not because of this particular evening, but because of all those times before he had behaved in similar nature. It was the first time she had so directly addressed the issue of her feelings for him. "Why do you have to be so cruel to me?" She seemed to be waiting for an actual answer. Why was she always so kind to him? Like he was normal, like he didn't hurt her? Arthur leaned down, his hand still cupping her cheek, his lips touching hers gently and firmly.

Harper closed her eyes - not as a girl would do in a pretty romantic movie - she shut her eyes, pressing her eyelids together, holding her breath, shuddering. A single tear ran down her cheek.

When they parted, though his face still stayed just a few centimeters away from hers, Harper opened her eyes again, her breath shaking.

- Arthur...

His free hand circled her waist, pulling her closer to him, as his fingers slid away from her cheek, moving behind her head, running through her hair. Arthur leaned close to her ear, his breath ghosting over her neck.

- Because I hate how you make me feel like I can still have a life, like not everything is lost. I hate how you make me feel worth being cared about and able to care. I hate how you make me feel, - he said that rushed and quiet. Pressing his front to the side of her head, breathing deeply.

- And what if you are lying? What if this all is for the sake of one night? I'm tired of guessing if you have a soul or not, Arthur, I'm too worn out, - she wispered after some time, leaning her forehead into his uninjured shoulder.

- Then trust me this one time. I promise. Please.

- Why?

- Because I need you. I need you to feel alive.

Arthur felt her let out a deep breath, her petite form pressing itself to his, her arms sliding behind his back to hold him close. She raised her head, freezing for a moment before their eyes met, then leaning up - their lips meeting now less gingerly than the first time.

- Does that mean you'll stay?

- You're such an asshole, Ketch...

- I know.

Harper hid her face in his chest, sobbing quietly, her form shacking, worn out both physically and emotionally. Arthur kissed her temple softly, caressing her back, for once feeling like he did everything right. For once feeling like they had a chance.

Happiness is a butterfly

Try to catch it like every night

It's escaping from me into moonlight

#supernatural #spn fanfiction #arthur ketch x oc #this is written half at night and half on school breaks please don't judge me #i havenot revisited this fandom in such a long time #arthur ketch x reader #arthur ketch #sam winchester #dean winchester #british men of letters #angst #happiness is a butterfly #lana del rey #oneshot #songfic

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jay-and-dean · 4 years

Text

Firefly Chapter 9 : Twenty eight years old, Come what may

By Roonyxx and Jay-and-dean

Pairings : future Dean x reader ?

Summary : 40 years in Hell, but he didn’t spend all this time all alone, he had her.

Prepare to know what happened during those years Dean never talks about. To immerge yourself in Hell, only lit by the mysterious kid growing here…

And to see some of your favorite villains again : Crowley, Lilith, Lucifer… And also Sammy and Jack…

Serie Warnings : Hurt!Dean, Hell (torture, even if we tried to not give it graphic descriptions, creepy demons, blood, violence), swearing, angst, future fluff and smut.

This story is in both Reader’s POV and Dean’s POV

Wordcount : 5900

Note : This is our second collaboration. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like we did for Same.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

This story will be around 10 chapters and we intend to edit it every Saturday if nothing delays it.

Firefly Masterlist

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

——————————————————————————————

9. Twenty years old : Come what may

Reader’s Pov

She opened her eyes in a gasp, almost like she had slept holding her breath. She put her hand on her chest and immediately, the smell of the bunker calmed her.

This was no Hell, and even if it had been, the Winchesters had made sure Hell would never be what it was before : No Lilith or Alastair, no Lucifer, no knight of Hell…

She let go of the pillow she was holding like she once used to hold Mister Teddy bear; and looked around at the grey room. A little smile appeared on her lips : Everything was perfect.

She didn’t own anything, since Lucifer didn’t really let her pack before locking her back in Hell, but Dean had made sure that her room was welcoming enough. A little alarm clock on the nightstand, next to her glass of water and little bag of candies, a few books behind her bed, because she had always loved books so much ; he had also given her a few extra pillows.

She looked at her open closet, smiling at the memory of going to buy clothes with Dean on the second day. He didn’t want to take the risk to take her far, so they went to the closest store in Lebanon, a tiny store, where only one pair of jeans suited her, so she had bought two of them, two shirts, a few underwears, and a pair of sneakers. But her perfect items were the one Dean had given her. She really didn’t need anything else.

She sat and looked down at her wrists, they were now healed from the deep wounds caused by years of tugging at the chains but a mark was left, a scar. She rubbed her thumb on it, wondering if it would stay, thinking of the books she had read about those people who suffered slavery, their scars couldn’t disappear…

Her eyes wandered in the dark, and the red light of the alarm made her frown, she shivered.

6:28 am.

That meant the bunker would probably be silent... And silence wasn’t her favorite sound.

She got up on her tiptoes, tugging at Dean’s t-shirt to cover her panties. And, as discreet as she used to leave her princess room with her teddy bear in her hand, she sneaked out.

No blood all over the corridors and no scream anywhere. Dean wasn’t being tortured, he was sound asleep in a bed, not even too cold or too hot, just perfectly surrounded by pillows and safe.

A sound caught her attention in the kitchen, the calming, already familiar sound of the coffee machine in the morning, and the intoxicating smell that came with it.

A light smile on her face, still on her tiptoes, she walked to the kitchen to see who was at the origin of that comforting morning sound.

“Hi Sam” she smiled, when he appeared in her field of vision.

“Oh, hi Firefly” he said, immediately correcting himself. “Y/n.”

“You can call me that” she smiled sincerely, earning an awkward chuckle from him. “Is Dean still sleeping ?”

Sam nodded and handed her a coffee, she took it and started blowing on it. The feeling of the flavored steam on her face was one of the things she loved so much about life. One of the million things.

“D-Dean told me about what you’ve been through to lock Lucifer, and save us all, and me, from his cruelty” she started hesitantly. “I know it isn't worth much next to what you had to live but… Thank you. Thank you so much.”

His eyebrows raised a little, and he looked down while nodding.

“No, it- it means a lot actually” he said. “Thank you for helping my brother in Hell.”

“I didn’t” she answered right away. “I tried. But he still got tortured everyday, he still had to bleed to death on that concrete floor; cold as death or hot enough to make the blood puddles boil… And I still slept in a bed.”

Sam frowned, biting the inside of his cheek once or twice.

“You…” he finally spoke. “You had more than your share of horrors. You can’t blame yourself.”

She smiled kindly, she wasn’t ready to stop blaming herself, and as long as she would hate her kind, or at least half her kind that much, she couldn’t really forgive herself. But she had tried, and she was holding on to this.

“I’m going to get back to bed, with Dean” she stated. “Unless you need me for anything.”

“O-okay” he said, surprised, blinking a few times. “No, I dont… Be careful though, Dean is an angry sleeper.”

“He wasn’t angry last morning” she shrugged and left the kitchen still on her tiptoes, her mug close to her face.

She pushed the 11 door slowly, immediately smiling at the strong smell of Dean filling the room. He had been sweating, the room was a little warmer than the corridor, like his body had created a lot of heat during the night.

He was sleeping on his back, the covers crumpled next to him, his black t-shirt bunched up, slightly showing his lower stomach.

She entered slowly, carefully closing the door behind her. She walked to the nightstand to put her coffee there, Dean loved the smell of coffee waking him.

Then she put one knee on the bed, then the other, to join him in the middle of it.

“It’s me” she whispered when he reacted in his sleep to her movements. “It’s me Dean.”

She laid next to him , not daring to touch, just enjoying him being so close.

“Morning Firefly” he grunted, stretching his arm to reach the first part of her he could.

His hand landed on her bare thigh, grasping it to bring her closer.

Her hand flattened on his chest and her leg snuggled above his, his soft blond hair tickling her ankle. She looked up at the side of his face, her lips against his shoulder.

“I’m going to get up” he said sleepily.

“You don’t have too” she whispered, lifting her arm to stroke the hair on his temple.

She had held him so often, she had stroked his hair countless times… But now that it wasn’t to escort him to his millionth death, everything was different, a true Heaven.

“Yeah…” he said, wrapping his arm around her. “So tell me more about Sue.”

She smiled wide. For once, she also had stories to tell, she could finally debate about the best songs of Led Zeppelin -she hadn’t forgotten one- and tell him what food she liked the most.

Dean’s pov

The bar was not too busy, and just the good, enveloping amount of loud.

Sam kept looking around worriedly, like some monster was going to show up to hurt them because he had recognized her. But Dean was unfazed, sipping at his beer, his arm on the back of her chair. He had seen her power, and now he was sure of something : Not much could really hurt her, and if anyone tried, he would just rip them like he did Death, Abaddon and Lucifer. Nothing would stop him.

“I was so drunk !” she laughed out loud, telling her story, joy lighting up her whole face, her entire body living her words.

He smiled, engrossed by the sparking in her eyes.

“Sounds like a great evening” Sam nodded.

“Yeah” she said. “It was the first night I knew exactly where I was going to sleep” she added with a serious shadow on her face.

Dean wrapped his arm around her and used his big hand to put her head on his shoulder. She sighed in content and put a hand on his chest.

They stayed like this for a few moments before she got up.

“I need to pee, Jesus beer !” she said before she left.

Dean watched her leave, drinking a sip of his beer. His flannel made her look small, he remembered how her dresses used to make her so tall.

“You just let her go by herself ?” Sam asked.

“What ?” Dean gave him a mocking face. “I know she is not a big fan of loneliness but I’m pretty sure she likes to be there alone.”

“Someone could recognize her” Sam insisted, ignoring his brother’s comment.

“I gave her a phone, a necklace with sigils to keep her hidden, put a tracking chip in her shoe… You heard what Billie said, no one can recognize her, she learned to vanish into the crowd when she faked her death, her powers are hiding themselves” he stated in a deep voice. “She has been a prisoner all her life, give her a break.”

“I know, I’m… I’m worried sometimes” Sam said. “I really like her, but there are moments when you seem blinded by her, Dean.”

He didn’t answer and leaned to the back of his chair, looking at the restroom door to see her come back.

Dean was not blinded by her. He knew what everyone was thinking.

They were not hating her, and, after they met her and saw the light within her soul, they even grew pretty fond of her, who wouldn’t ?

They just didn’t understand that bond Dean and her had, no one did.

And Dean himself knew it was strange. He had seen her grow, and she had seen him die a thousand times. They had fought and hoped together, and they had suffered. What she had seen all of him, kneeling in his guts to hold his hand… No one could really understand that.

Having her in his home, in his life, was confusing, scary and disturbing. Thinking so much about Hell was unbearable the first three days, and at some point he really feared that it would stay insufferable. And so he stayed occupied, buying her clothes and some girl products, reading on Cambions, interrogating Demons and Angels… Even Billie.

But Firefly was not the darkness of Hell, she was the light out of it.

The next three days became easier. He felt relieved, like somehow, his hope being alive was a closure for him. A way to give some of his memories more sense and to let go of a part of it.

And so their bond grew. He remembered their kiss, so long ago, and spent a few hours in his bed wondering if their connection was this kind of bond, or not. And obviously, he had no idea. Of course she was pretty, beautiful even, and had the most radiant smile… But for now all he could really think, was that he needed her there, and that she needed to live for real.

He was confused, and, the more he was failing, for once, to find the right words to explain to his family why she could sit in the driver seat of Baby and turn on the engine without a flinch of him ; why she would always know when he was cold or hot, hungry or bothered before he even noticed ; how well she could know every details of his story… The more their bond made everyone wonder.

Castiel had been the most suspicious, his too serious frown hiding almost entirely the blue of his eyes. He had stared at her, and warned the brothers a hundred times about what a Cambion could do. Sam had reassured him like he could to avoid any poor choice from the angel, and Dean had just ignored him.

But when Firefly jumped in the angel's arms, her big eyes wet, thanking him a thousand times for freeing Dean, taking his hand to kiss his knuckles… even Castiel didn’t seem so sure of her dangerosity after all.

Sam was trying his best to understand what was going on, to hide his worry behind his usual kindness. Firefly coming to their life was even more disturbing than Jack’s birth, because it wasn’t new the same way for both brothers.

But once again, each time he felt slightly threatened by the connection between the young woman and his brother, she said or did something that showed how admirative she was of him, and how much she was ready to work on earning his trust, and possibly his friendship.

Jack was never worried, but curious, somehow craving answers about himself in the being that was both so opposed and so close to what he was.

She finally came out, meeting his eyes the second she passed the door and grinned at the music playing. She stopped in the middle of the bar, slowly swinging on the blues notes of guitars, her now shortened but still pretty wild hair nonchalantly moving on the red and black flannel, her hips moved by invisible waves…

And that’s when Dean knew the bond was indeed Love, and that, even if she needed freedom and to leave for other men, he would never stop being desperately in love with his Firefly.

While his heart was pounding at the realisation, she came closer and took his hand.

“Dance with me” she asked him.

Dean gave her an awkward chuckle and he could see his brother smirking in the corner of his eye.

“I don’t really da-” he cut off his own sentence and stared at her smile, who was he to put a damper on her mood, how could he resist that smile of hers ?

With a little groan he got up from his seat and grasped her hand tighter.

“Of course” he went with her to the jukebox, leaning down to her ear and whispering. “What song do you want, sweetheart ?” he stood behind her with his hands on her hips, feeling her move underneath his palms.

“This one” she put in a coin and as the song started to play.

Dean turned her around to guide her to the middle of the floor.

“Elvis Presley ?” he questioned,amused, as she put one hand on his chest and another on his shoulder.

“Yes” she murmured.”I love this song”

Her head came resting against his chest, making a small smile form on his face at the sweet gesture. He wrapped his arms around her protectively, enjoying the feeling of her against him, ignoring Sam’s look, and some other people glare on them. He knew perfectly well how silly they looked, like a prom in the middle of a small town bar. And he didn’t care the slightest.

They swayed slowly to the song, held by each other, floating in the song. And after a little while, Dean couldn’t help but whisper the lyrics in her ear.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life too. For I can't help falling in love with you” his lips brushed against the shell of her ear, his nose in her hair.

His heart was beating fast, he was even a little afraid she would hear it.

And when she looked up at him, he just fell harder for her. Her beautiful Y/E/C eyes shone in the dim light of the bar, those eyes that could make anything bearable, her smell surrounded him and at that moment it was just the two of them, all he could feel was her and that’s all he ever wanted to feel from now.

By the time the song slowly came to its end, they both had stopped moving, lost in each other.

He cleared his throat and let her go with a slightly awkward smile.

“We should head home” he said with a hoarse voice, his eyes having a hard time not looking at her lips.

“Yes, home” she smiled as she said it, like she was testing out the word for the first time and liked how it sounded.

And Dean would be wrong if he didn’t admit he loved the way it sounded from her lips.

Reader Pov

Dean parked the impala back in the silent garage. They all got out and made their way inside.

“Thank you for tonight, I really enjoyed it” she told the brothers as her hand rested on the doorknob of her room.

“Yeah it was fun” Dean said as he looked at her, his tongue peeked out to lick at his lips, so Y/n knew something was making him a little nervous.

“Yeah, it was” Sam repeated, his eyes flickering between his brother and Y/n.

She could see a faint smile on his lips when he wished them a goodnight as he rounded the corner to his room.

“So…” Dean started. “You think you will sleep okay, Firefly ?” he asked.

“I will Dean, you too ?” she kept her hand on his chest, the need to touch him and have him close all the time was so strong.

He nodded, smiling at her worried face, his hand pushing a stray hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, I will” he whispered. “No one is going to hurt me, or you.”

She gave him a small smile, reached up on her tiptoes to peck his cheek.

“Goodnight Dean.”

“Goodnight Firefly.”

She entered her room, her cheeks hurting from smiling. The entire night she couldn’t stop thinking of that one time they kissed, in Hell. It was so long ago and in the heat of the moment, but she cherished that memory like her most precious gift, it had sheltered her from being depressed in the street, and it had kept her sane in the cage.

She had been in love with him for so long, she didn’t even remember not loving him with all her heart… but did he like her that way ? Could he look past the fact she wasn’t human ? That she could, like Castiel said, be dangerous…

She crawled into her bed with all these questions turning over in her head.

_______________________

A familiar scream woke her.

“N-No stop !” she heard.

Dean.

She jumped up and ran to the room next to hers. She could hear his whimpers through the door, her heart aching at those familiar gasps of pain, she carefully opened it and went inside.

He was sweating, his hands tugging at the sheets, panting and a worried frown on his face. She couldn’t stand to see him like this.

She made her way to his bed, sitting next to him to stroke his hair out of his sweaty forehead.

“Dean, it’s okay you’re safe.”

She sat up against the headboard and pulled him into her the best she could, his face immediately nuzzled into her chest, looking for safety. Her hand came up to stroke the back of his head, he was shaking. She started humming the song they danced to earlier, and when she did, his hands let go of the sheets and wrapped around her, holding her tight against him as his breathing slowed down.

She could feel his eyelashes brush against her neck as he slowly woke up.

“You’re safe Dean, I got you. No one is going to hurt you” she whispered to the top of his head.

“T-Thank you” his voice sounded just like it did when he was in Hell, right after his body was healed but his mind couldn’t yet process what had happened.

“It was Hell” she stated, she didn’t need to ask, she knew how it sounded, she had grown up with it after all.

“Yeah, and then purgatory, Micheal,...” he sighed.

She angled her head back to look at him, she could see the weight in his eyes, the horrors he had seen. Knowing he had been freed from Hell was her biggest joy, but knowing he had known more horrors in his life made her both desperately sad, and raging with anger.

“Life has been impossibly hard on you” she said as she stroked the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, you can say that… I did some stupid things too” he said with a defeated voice.

“If you do them for the right reasons it’s not stupid Dean” she told him.

“I… I killed people, I used to have this mark, The Mark of Cain” he swallowed hard. “It turned me into a demon” he whispered.

Her throat closed up for a second, she knew of the mark, she read about it when she was looking for a way out of Hell.

“A demon ?” she asked, a little shocked.

“A knight of Hell actually” he said. “I thought of you when I was… I- I was horrible, I hurt so many people… I was the very thing I hunt” he whispered.

“It wasn’t the real you, Dean” she said.

“I know, Sammy cured me. He saved my ass so many times” he scoffed.

“I’m so glad you have him. You protect each other...” she inched down the bed to lay next to him, their noses almost touching.

It was just that easy, being with him, that comfortable. He didn’t move, he didn’t look away, his lips so close to hers that she almost could feel them, his glistening freckled skin roamed by shivers.

“I’m sorry I thought you weren’t real… If I had known I-I would have looked for you, Firefly” his voice wavered with emotion.

She put her hand on his cheek.

Dean needed comfort and tenderness, he was carrying so much, he always had been so brave… Maybe he didn’t want any of the tenderness she could give, but maybe, just maybe, what she was craving to give him would actually be a great comfort for him.

“Dean. We found each other. I’m never losing you again” she whispered against his lips.

“I’m never letting you go either” he moved his face closer to hers, his lips brushing hers.

The tips of her hair started floating a little in anticipation, she could feel the rage she had always contained in herself fall totally silent for the first time, and her powers slightly vibrate at his touch. Her eyes were flicking from his to his lips.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel his, and all of him, whole and alive under her touch.

How many times she had dreamed of holding him like this, just not to hold him together, to keep his head out of his own blood, but just to feel his hair and his skin.

He let his tongue run on his lips, like he did so often, and she thought about kissing him so hard her lips trembled. She thought about the things she experienced without him, even if he never left her mind.

When his beloved lips caught hers in a tender kiss, she closed her eyes again, like she had the first time, to focus on the heavenly feeling of him. But Dean didn't give her time to draw it out.

He moved above her, claiming her mouth deeply, his burning tongue taking advantage of a moan escaping her to find hers. He was so tall and big, his body on hers looked like an eclipse. His broad shoulders rolling to support the weight of his back, giving this man, who already was the most noble, something feline.

“Firefly, I…” he stopped, panting above her. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

He was afraid of breaking her heart, she knew it, he was afraid of making their relationship blurry. He was probably disturbed by their common past. She knew he was troubled, but she wasn’t.

“I think we both need this” she stated calmly. “It’s a harsh night in the middle of a harsh life, Dean. Let’s just make it softer. Tomorrow, come what may.”

“Come what may” he repeated, leaning to kiss her again, his hungry mouth drifting to her jaw and the pulsating vein on her neck.

And Y/n had a thought for that guy she had slept with the first time, how his kisses felt weird and his desire uncomfortable… This was different, and new.

“Why are you smiling like that ?” Dean’s soft voice brought her back from her mind.

“I’m just experiencing something new” she whispered, her hands going under his shirt on his lower back to feel the delicious curve here.

“I…” he stiffed a little. “You told me you had already had sex.”

“Yes, I wasn’t talking about that” she smiled, but his questioning frown didn’t fade right away, his body and mind were still on alert from his nightmare. “You won’t let a smile stop you, will you ?”

“No” he almost growled, bending to nibble at her neck again.

Her hands slipped inside the back of his pajama pants, happy to find no underwear on her way. She pushed him down on her a little by his ass cheek, fingers digging in his muscles there, earning a low moan against her chest when his hips met hers, and his cock got trapped between them.

His body was desperate, hands trying to touch everything at once, grazing her neck and collarbones, grasping her sides, seizing one of her breasts through her shirt… Her eyes opened on the ceiling, and she noticed a few tiny stars floating in the air.

She gasped when she felt his cock twitching, calling for attention on her pelvis, growing between them. That man she had loved for so long, the Prince Charming Sue wished she would find, her Dean… feeling desire for her.

Trying to spread her legs for him, she realized her too large pants, the one Dean had given her, was stuck under his strong and heavy knee.

“Dean…” she whined trying to get free.

“What is it ?” he lifted his head, his warm green eyes searching her face.

“My pants” she started but he didn’t let her finish, moving above her to tug at her pants, taking them off all the way.

She smiled looking down, he was kissing up her legs. Her hands reached his head, pushing her fingers through his still sweaty locks. Once again, his hands couldn’t have enough, short nails digging in her thighs and going up to meet her panties.

He flattened his large palm on her underwear, covering it totally with a smirk she didn’t know yet on his face. She felt small, he felt even bigger.

“Can I touch you ?” he almost groaned against the shivering skin of her thigh.

“Please do” she nodded, shyly spreading her legs.

Of course he was talking about this part of her, he had already touched all the rest….

His hand didn’t leave her panties going down between her thighs when he could, feeling her folds through the white fabric.

And the little stars multiplied.

She arched her back, her core tightening in an exquisite pressure. She gasped in a jerk of her thighs, surprised that touches so soft could bring a pleasure so intense. She had never known that. She was aware of everything that was Dean on her, all her senses high on him, and her body reacting to the electricity roaming her whole body.

Love, she thought. It was love making her insides burst in such delicious flames.

“Oh wow” he groaned. “You’re soaking those poor panties.”

And the new grin she had just discovered appeared on his lips again. The tiny stars were now numerous enough to make the ceiling look like a clear summer night.

His lips travelled up to her lower stomach, his nose tickling the skin here while his lips feisted on it.

“Firefly…” he whispered before his bright white teeth caught the hem of her underwear, to drag it down with him.

She needed him. She painfully needed to feel him, close wasn’t enough, he had to be inside of her.

So she sat with her legs on both sides of his strong thighs, making him sit back on his ankles, his knees digging on the mattress, and grabbed his face to kiss him, to feel her hero anywhere she could. He seemed to need the same thing : his arms grasped her ass cheek, carrying her up his thighs to rest on his crotch.

She moaned loud when she felt him, so hard, pressed against her bare folds.

“I need you” she whined. “Dean, I need you so much.”

“I got you” his voice was deep and warm, his parted lips leaving a layer of steam all over her neck.

They were both too eager to wait a second more.

Dean held her strongly with one arm while he almost got on his knees, pushing his pajama pants down with the other hand before he sat on his ankles again.

She looked down, her delicate hand reaching between them to wrap around him. He was hard and twitching, but his skin was soft.

“Yes…” he moaned.

“I need you” she just repeated while he was panting against her shoulder.

Saying that, she lifted her hips slightly and lined him with her to slowly sink on him.

“Fuck…” he groaned when the head of his cock entered her and kept gasping and moaning as she took more and more of him.

She hummed at the stretch of him inside of her, her walls throbbing softly to adjust.

The little stars started to fill the room a little more, like hundreds of fireflies surrounding them. But, even if they acknowledged them, they both were too engrossed in each other to really pay attention.

Y/n breathed out in relief, like she had needed Dean inside of her as much as she had needed air all this time. Her head fell back when her pelvis reached his, filled so completely by him.

“Firefly” he moaned, like it was now the only word he knew.

His hands, still holding her ass cheek, grasped her tighter and moved her on him, making her grind on him hard.

“AH !” she cried out at the pressure on her clit mixed with his cock moving against her walls.

Her hips started to move along with his hands, in back and forth moves, in circles, until he started trusting up in a trail of growls and she couldn’t move anymore, holding on to him, kissing and licking his neck with a raging hunger.

Hearing his groans and moans, she looked up to look at him, to actually see what pleasure looked like on a man she had seen suffer beyond everything. And it was beautiful.

More than the stars and the sea, more than snow in the trees… It was more beautiful than all she had dreamed of when longing for life.

The expression on his face could have been confused with pain, but Y/n knew better. His mouth was open and his eyebrows were up above his nose, and the little stars were reflecting in his eyes.

Bending on her, he caught her lips, trying to kiss her during their speeding dance, and failing to just pant loudly in her mouth.

Her whole body was shaking with pleasure, she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her, and her body react to it. Her skin was on fire. In a loud whimper, she let her head fall on his shoulder, her fingers sliding along his sweaty neck.

“Look at me” he said. “Firefly, look at me.”

With great effort, she looked up, resting her forehead on his, unable to focus on anything else than the orgasm preparing to hit like lightning inside her core.

She had felt pleasure before, and even came a few times, but what was growing inside of her was way more powerful than anything she had known…

And when it blew up, she silently screamed, her whole body falling back on the mattress as she clenched around Dean, her thighs shaking, her arms limply falling above her head. He was still trusting inside of her, holding her hips up on him.

“OH FUCK” he groaned after a few sharper thrusts.

His hips jerked and his stomach and thighs trembled when he came, falling too above her. He caught his body on his arm to avoid crushing her, keeping her up on his lap with the other hand to not slip out of her body just yet.

“Firefly” he murmured again, in the aftershock of his own orgasm.

“Dean” she answered in her high.

Her fingers went up, wiping the golden dust, vestiges of the little stars’s explosion, off his shoulder, a lazy smile on her face.

After a minute, he carefully moved next to her in a grunt, slipping out to lay on his side toward her. She stayed on her back, in the same position she had fallen too, only her head turned to him to give him a large smile.

“You’re covered in gold” he chuckled softly.

“You too” she reached his head to shuffle his hair, but it was too wet and she only spreaded the dust on it. “Oh oops.”

His eyes were glowing with joy, roaming her face, a small smile hanging on his lips.

She enjoyed every second of this peaceful moment, knowing too well that it couldn’t last. Dean was a complex man, hurt and abandoned too often, he wouldn’t let go to a peaceful tenderness so easily.

What she hadn’t anticipated was how fast his defences would grow back… His smile faded and the bliss vanished from his face. Something she didn’t like shadowed his features : Guilt.

“Firefly…” he sighed.

“I know, Dean” she cut him. “This was one time. This was to feel better. A good moment in a harsh life.”

She didn’t want him to feel guilty because of her. He cupped her face and pecked her lips before he grabbed the band of his pants to put it up.

“Do you want me to leave ?” she asked very low.

“No” he shook his head right away. “No stay… I didn’t say that to… you know, but just so you don’t imagine that I… I just… can’t really be with someone, and you… We… are complicated.”

She nodded and turned to her side to take him in her arms, nuzzling on his chest. She could wait for him all her life, she could even wait for something that would never come, that didn’t frighten her.

“Fall back asleep” she said. “I’m chasing the demons.”

Dean’s Pov

He held her close as he watched her sleep. A little smile on his face as he was drawing patterns in the golden dust that covered her entire body. She was so precious to him. She was too good for this dark and rotten world.

She was too good for him…

He had never felt this way about someone, this intense feeling, as if all the little stars that flew over his head mere hours ago were now blooming in his chest. But this life didn’t allow those kinds of feelings.

A deep sigh left his mouth as he thought of all the people that used to be close to him. Charlie, Kevin, Bobby, Jo, Ellen,... so many of them had met a merciless fate because of him.

Because he was poisonous. He would never let that happen to her.

He looked down at her as he felt her nuzzle deeper in his chest. It was then that he promised himself he would do anything to protect his Firefly. Even if that meant breaking his own heart, because after all...

Wasn’t he the biggest danger for her ?

(Next and last chapter on @roonyxx blog last week)

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