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basilhearsanoise · 3 years

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Guardian Angels - Chapter 1

A Memory Formed, Then All but Wiped Away

Dean Winchester was born on a cold January morning in 1979, when the sun had not yet risen. He wouldn’t hear his name for a few years after that, though. You see, when Mary, Dean’s mother, found out she was pregnant, her husband John said, “We should name the kid after your folks. Always talk about how you miss ‘em. Be a good way to keep ‘em alive,” and Mary liked that idea very much.

So when the doctors told them they were going to have a baby girl - because doctors like to play god in these situations almost as much as God does - Mary knew that she would name the child after her mother. Deanna was a beautiful name, after all. It was only a few hours after they got home from that visit, however, that their two sons burst in from over 30 years in the future, and brought the preamble to the apocalypse with them. One of whom, they’ve seen before - as a hunter on a case, as a car enthusiast. As a man. Who says to her, “It’s kind of hard to believe. I’m your son.”

Mary doesn’t get to remember her son’s face for very long, because angels are meddlesome creatures and time travel doesn’t usually rest easy on the human psyche. But she finds herself thinking of the strange hunter who was there that night with the yellow-eyed demon. He’d really been trouble, but he’d tried so hard to help. Her memory of him became more sentimental, somehow, without her even really noticing the change. She wonders if that hunter was some kind of spirit, a ghost sent to warn her about that night. The night she tries to not ever think about, but yet, always comes crawling back to the front of her mind. It all seems to have so much - so much meaning, something more that she can’t quite put her finger on. Suddenly, she feels a cosmic presence in her life, and she knows, deep down, it’s because of her baby.

“I’m tellin’ you, this kid is gonna be somebody,” she says to John as she dotes over their newborn. “Isn’t that right?” She coos. “That’s right! You’ve got angels watching over you!”

—

“No. Dean,” Dean corrects his mother, chocolate melting in his tiny three-year-old hands. It’s all over his face. Some of it’s in his hair, too, like tar stuck to a bail of hay. His voice is garbled, a toddler unable to properly enunciate to save his life, but still, alarmingly clear and concise.

Mary, exhausted, at her wit’s end, holds the dress out to him for the millionth time. “Deanna, pl—“

“No!” Dean is more hurt, now, and the tantrum is well on its way. “I won’t! I don’ like it!” The rest is mostly unintelligible screaming. Smearing his chocolate all over the dress, he turns and runs, crying.

John tries to pick him up and cradle him but he kicks and yells and punches. They have to have a talk about violence after that, that it’s not nice to hit and scream. It’s the first and last conversation on the topic Dean will ever get from his parents.

Not long after that, the preschool calls, says Dean has “caused a scene in class.” They tried to separate the boys and girls for a game, and he went with the boys. When they tried to stop him, he threw a fit and had to be excused for the rest of the day. And then the next day, and the next, and the next.

Mary and John are at a loss. Their son is insisting he is their son, but like any parent, they are having trouble believing it. Mary thinks about the hunter from that night more and more now. What did he say his name was again? There was something so familiar about all of this, almost like Mary was back on an old hunting case. But no, she gave that up…she couldn’t call any of her contacts and see if they know anything about her kid…could she?

…Ring, ring.

“Hello Mary,” Missouri answers, the grin already apparent in her voice.

No matter how many times she did that, it always freaked Mary out, just a little. But at least you knew she was the real deal as soon as she picked up the phone.

“Hi Missouri, it’s good to speak to you.”

“Mm. I don’t think it is. At least, the subject matter doesn’t seem like it will be good.” Missouri twiddles the phone cable around her finger. “John’s not going to like it. You’ll warm up to it though. I’ll be over soon.”

Click.

Laughing, but mostly out of shock, Mary puts down the receiver. After all this time, you’d think she’d stop being surprised by how good Missouri is. But that level of psychic ability is uncanny enough to throw anyone through a loop. Better make sure John would be gone that afternoon. She was not ready to explain this to him.

When Missouri walks in, she throws her arms around Mary warmly. “Now,” she asks, looking around. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you Mary, I haven’t even met your boy. Go and fetch him, I want to meet him before we get down to whatever nasty business you called about.”

Mary pulls the sides of her mouth back in a gesture that could only be interpreted as: yikes.

“Missouri, I…I don’t quite know how to say this, but our…” The words feel strange in her mouth, but what’s really strange is that…she thought they’d feel stranger. “….my son…is what I called about.”

Missouri raises an eyebrow.

“Is there something wrong with him? I haven’t sensed any evil presences in the house.”

Mary still doesn’t quite know what to say, stutters a little.

Perplexed, but intrigued, Missouri says, “Well go and get him. I’ll see for myself.”

With a shrug, Mary goes to the kitchen. “Honey…put down your toys, Mommy wants you to meet a friend.”

Dean waddles into the living room, still clutching his favorite toy car. He clings to his mother’s skirt, but waves at Missouri, who looks him up and down from his dirty shoes to the top of his baggy overalls.

“What have you got there?” She asks.

“Vroom!” Dean answers, showing her how the car shoots forward when you wind the wheels back on the floor.

Missouri laughs heartily in agreement. “Yes, sweetheart. What a lovely toy. It’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

His little eyes shimmer up at her, his face slowly peeling into a wide, wide grin. He giggles and keeps playing with his car.

Mary stares at Missouri in disbelief, opens her mouth to speak, but can’t find words. She slowly sits down on the couch. Dean follows his car back into the kitchen and can be heard vrooming about the house. For a moment that’s all the noise there is, until Mary can finally gather herself enough to say, “Missouri, I…I don’t understand.”

Missouri walks over and sits next to her, gently takes her hand. “Mary, you know that there are things in this world that are not easy to understand at first, but that doesn’t make them any less real.”

“Well, yes,” Mary replies, flustered, afraid. “Ghosts, ghouls…but you’re not saying he’s a monster, are you?”

Missouri’s expression darkens a little. “The world will surely tell you he is one. But nothing could be further from the truth. People like Dean have always existed, just like people like me have always existed. It’s perfectly natural. Most people just don’t believe we’re real.”

Mary is still completely at a loss. Missouri squeezes her hand. “Your son is transgender, Mary,” she continues gently. “I can see into his soul and see that he’s a little boy, just like any other, except he’s in a world that can’t see him the way I can.”

It’s as if someone took a needle and jabbed it into Mary’s brain. Flashes of Dean’s adult face begin to swim through her mind.

“I’m your son.”

Could these memories be real or was she going mad? It was all so overwhelming. She throws her arms around Missouri and begins to sob. Missouri can sense that something in her mind has opened up, that had been locked tight, and it unnerves her to think what could have turned the key. She holds her dear friend close until she can recover enough to catch her breath.

“What do I do?” Mary whimpers, looking towards the kitchen, towards Dean.

“You love him,” Missouri replies. “You respect him.”

“H-…how?”

“Well…” Missouri tries her best to be matter-of-fact. “First you have to talk to John and get him on board.” Mary’s eyes roll a little. Getting John to change his mind about anything was going to be a hassle. “Then…you call the school. Tell them to call him by the right name. Tell your friends to call him by the right name…not much else to it, darling.”

“But…what happens when…he grows up? How will…”

“I have some friends who might be able to help you,” Missouri says warmly. “But you can cross that bridge when you come to it. It’s all about doing what’s necessary now, and simply listening is the most important thing when children are young. Follow his lead, honey. He knows what he needs.”

Dean runs into the living room again. “Mommy, sammich?” He beams.

Mary can’t help but laugh as she wipes away her tears. Dean notices and instantly hugs her knees. “Don’t cry, mommy,” he pleads. “I love you.”

“I love you too…Dean,” Mary shakily replies, rustling his hair the way she always does.

Dean looks up, his face somehow happier than before. He reaches up to her in the way all toddlers do when they want to be held, and she scoops him up into her arms. Missouri smiles at the sight.

“You want a sandwich?” Mary asks her, still processing, but trying to inject some humor into the situation now.

“That sounds lovely,” Missouri answers. “I think I’ll have mine with the crusts cut off, too. That’s your favorite, isn’t it, Dean?”

“Yes!” Dean gurgles happily as Mary places him at the kitchen table.

“Alright, three sandwiches, hold the crust, comin’ right up,” Mary laughs. Later, she knew things were going to get messy. But for now, they could all sit down and enjoy a nice snack.

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letterstothemidnightsociety · 4 years

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Here we are at the end of October, in the Year of Our Troubles, 2020. And here I am, continuing my journey to avoid reality by looking for meaning in nostalgia and TV Hunks. It’s Supernatural!

Alright so we’ve made it to my (possibly/probably) all time favorite quartet of the entire series - Disc 3, Season 1, episodes 9 - 12. For the last few discs, I’ve been keeping things pretty technical in terms of television production and broadcast. But frankly, this sh*t is my jam. All that gooey emotion, all that sweet sweet lore, throw in some man tears and *chef kissy fingers* c'est magnifique!

Now I’ll backtrack for a hot second here to talk about the filler vs. self-contained argument that I...probably jumbled in my last post. In shows like this, I tend to use “filler” to describe every episode that isn’t arc, but honestly, that’s not fair to a number of Supernatural episodes. The main difference being, is this episode meant to pad out your season or is it simply an episode that can stand on its own two feet? I’d say that’s the case for this entire disc.

First up, it’s Home. Guys, I think I cheered when I turned this episode on. We take our Winchesters, give them some small victories, build up their confidence, and then totally break them down again by sending them back to the beginning. This is not listed as the “official” return to the arc episodes, but I’d argue that Home is where we see a return to the Main Quest. Oh yeah, and Sam finally admits that he can see...what? What do we call these? Death Omens? I think Sam calls them premonitions? Either way, it’s…*shrugs* sure, do what you want. The premonitions do become important later and they’re basically the catalyst for the whole second season and that resolution takes us into the main conflict for the third season, and so on and so on, it’s a whole thing. It just seems like a hecking lot this go around, ok? But he finally admits it to Dean and that’s probably some kind of growth. Dean going back into that house again is also some kind of growth. Of course, he was like, 4 when he swore he’d never go back to that house again? Whatever, I didn’t care. I get too distracted by the fact that DEAN IS CRYING GUYS! LOOK! HE’S CRYING!!

Oh, and one more tie to the season arc - Hecking John Winchester shows up. I mean, he’s all over the episode and I think the most shocking thing we find out about him is that he was, at one point, a business owner?? But also it ends with conclusive proof that John Winchester is a massive dick who refuses to talk to his children. And I’m sorry, I don’t buy your “have to finish it first” excuse, I just don’t. To be clear, I’m not mad at the storytelling choice to do that, I’m mad at the character, which I guess is where it should be.

I like that this episode builds out more of the world that the Winchesters live in with Missouri Mosely (Not the State!). I like that we see they’re not alone in this very literal fight against evil. She checks back in later in the series and honestly, I love Loretta Devine so I would have watched a whole spinoff show about this character.

Two things I don’t like about this episode? #1 What genius decided that Mary’s ghost would just be on fire for 20 years? Like, cuz that’s what I am understanding about this ghost. That she is just constantly on fire. And that’s...unkind.

Mary, who did this to you??

#2 Only a man could have written this episode because no single mom is just gonna LET two rando dudes into her home.

Listen boys, you’re cute, but I’m a woman with two small children. Hell no you’re not coming into my house.

Next up is Asylum and this is so good at walking the line between creepy and Spooky. UNlike the Bloody Mary episode, I do not need to hide my face from the screen at any point during this episode.

Hey look, it’s like they’re brothers or something!

This one is another episode that does a good job building character and the world the Winchesters live in. Like any good procedural, it uses the main conflict to bring out the more important conflict. In this case, it literally brings it out, cuz the ghost is a psychiatrist who makes Same confront all his Daddy Issues. And by confront we mean, take it out on his brother who is the saddest-motherf*cker-I’ve-ever-seen BUT HEY! Salting and burning a body finally works for once in their lives! I love all the cringing that Jensen Ackles does in that scene because they clearly hadn’t figured out what that effect was supposed to look like yet.

It must have been a real surprise to find out the ghost didn’t light on fire.

Oh and then there’s the phone call! And man, this must have been a bitch of a mid-season finale, cuz this episode aired in November of 2005 and the next episode doesn’t come back until January of 2006 and so you’re just WAITING to hear what John has to say.

Now wait for two months to find out what he says.

And of course, it’s nothing. We come back in January to Scarecrow and John has nothing to say cuz he’s a massive dick. Just calling 6 months in to your nationwide search for me to let you know that I’m not dead, but also, I’m only here to send you on another assignment and cause tension. And so the show continues to break down our dynamic duo because the fight they have over whether they should listen to dad or not literally splits them apart. They also introduce Meg as a new and more involved villain for the series. I mean, sort of. We don’t see her again for like, another five episodes. And then again another five episodes after that. So like, I don’t really...know that introducing her as an antagonist...really had the effect they were hoping for?

Is she evil cuz she’s a demon or just because she’s blonde???

Here’s some issues I have with Meg, the first recurring female character who isn’t dead - she’s the first recurring female character who isn’t dead and also, I immediately hated her. I remember watching the episode the first time and as soon as I saw her I was like, oh she’s a ruiner. It was almost a relief to find out she was a bad guy at the end because it was like I was allowed to hate her? To be fair to me, Meg comes on hella strong trying to keep Sam from going back to his brother, so we’re not supposed to like her, but looking back on it now I feel like the perpetrator of some real girl-on-girl crime. Does Meg actually do anything wrong? Aside from leaning real hard on some indie-style manic-pixie bohemian free spirit nonsense, she doesn’t do...anything that should make me hate her? Until, of course, she actively acts as a wedge between our dream team, but before then, I don’t...think she does? Honestly, it could just be me, but I do think that TV has gotten much better at writing/directing/presenting female characters in a way that doesn’t feel like they’re literally shoe-horning in a third wheel. And again, ultimately we are supposed to hate her, I just can’t decide if I was picking up on signals that were intentional or not. I remember having similar feelings when they introduced Joe in season 2, but that’s still far ahead.

I am willing to admit that this might be just me. I will not take back the things I’ve said about Emma Watson though, those are justified.

And I think introducing more characters is important. It acts the same way introducing Missouri did -it broadens the world. For half a season, our only constants are the brothers. They’re these lone cowboys in a weird, mystical, dangerous wasteland and the villains are more obstacles than actual villains. When the story you’re telling needs to feel bigger than that, you need to do some world building and sometimes that starts with adding more characters. I will say, I hated Meg less this watch than I did on the first one. Or rather, I hated her cuz I knew she was The Worst, not because I felt like adding her to the show was a threat to the storytelling.

OH! ALSO! The first mention of Dean and Pie! My heart grew three sizes that day!

The hecking diner won’t serve him so he never finds out!!!

And finally, to cap it all off, we have Faith which is...a surprisingly rough episode? Ok, listen, Dean just resignedly accepting his own demise is like, ugh. UGH. ugh. Buddy. Buddy you are NOT Ok. Like, Dean is so intent on keeping everyone else in his family alive but does not seem as concerned about his own health and well-being and that...just...ughghghghg...I have a lot of feelings about that.

Listen, some day I will talk about Sam, but it is NOT THIS DAY.

Like, I get that Rev. Jerry Gergich Roy Le Grange is not actually healing people, but he literally tells Dean that Dean has a purpose and he was saved from an untimely death for a reason, and he’s kind of not wrong? But then he spends the rest of the episode stopping Roy from healing anyone else and feeling overwhelmingly guilty that he was saved over someone else. I think out of everything that season 1 has presented up to this episode, this is the most philosophical and thematically complex. There’s the question of faith vs skepticism - can we ever just blindly believe in a good turn? The fact that Dean can’t says a lot about him as a human. Then there’s the question of who gets to decide who lives and who dies? Who’s worthy of salvation and who isn’t? Why do bad things happen to good people and why do good things happen to Dean? I mean, when Dean sees the Reaper coming for him at the end, he knows that it’s in exchange for Layla’s life and he’s just...Ok with that? He doesn’t try to run or fight it, and it’s only because of Sam that he doesn’t bite it. And the end of this episode is just a real bitch slap to the feels because Layla, our Very Special Extra, knows she’s going to die and she knows she missed out on her chance to be healed because Dean was an Ass with a capital A and took her turn (probably). And she’s also just ok with that and it kills me a little bit on the inside.

Also, Layla is played by Julie Benze from Roswell and Buffy and Dexter and she’s always A+. And Roy was in Snakes on a Plane!

So yeah, not exactly “filler” in the true sense, but ties to the season arc are not as strong as in other episodes. And watching these episodes again I realize just how important they are to the series as a whole. I mentioned Helstrom last week and since then, I’ve finished the season. It’s only 10 episodes, and while I definitely enjoyed it, none of the emotional climaxes felt earned.

Is how I feel. About the Emotions in Helstrom. That doesn’t mean I won’t watch a season 2.

When you focus solely on the main arc in every single episode, you miss these little moments to develop character and relationships. When you get to the end of the season where the Winchesters are finally all in the same room taking on the Big Bad, there’s this feeling of satisfaction - you’ve been waiting for this moment. You’ve been waiting for Sam to reconcile with his father. You’ve been waiting for the guys to finally take on this thing that killed Mary Winchester. You’ve been waiting to see what will happen when the quest is over. That’s what makes the character decisions in the finale feel so big and so important, because they’ve been built up and built up for 22 episodes - 7 months in broadcast time. I think it’s harder to have the sort of weight that Supernatural builds in a show that stays so focused on the arc because its season is only 8 - 10 eps. There’s no room for sidetracking to build on the relationships in the show. You don’t have time for it, so you either have to keep character moments smaller (I’d argue MUCH smaller) or you end up with a finale that doesn’t resonate with the same gravitas as you want it to.

Don’t get me wrong - I know it sounds like I’m ragging on short seasons, but I think a short season can be very effective when it’s done right. I also think a full season of 22 - 24 episodes can be very effective when it’s done right. But I think there’s a fundamental difference in how you tell the story when you have a short vs. a long season. I think TV is still figuring that out as it goes, as writers who are accustomed to long seasons shift gears to tell their stories with fewer installments. But I hope that TV doesn’t completely do away with the more procedural-style/self-contained episodes since those can be a powerful way to connect with your characters. That’s why I’m here in the first place.

#Supernatural #Supernatural Season 1 #supernatural rewatch #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Sam and Dean #Home #Faith #Scarecrow #Asylum #Jared Padalecki #Jensen Ackles #CW #Meg

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omegaqueencas · 4 years

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5 Times Dean gave Sam a Christmas Present (and 1 Time he Didn't)

One - 1983

It was Christmas morning and Dean was crying.

Mary knelt beside him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I d-didn’t get a p-present for Sam,” Dean blubbered.

“Oh, honey.” Mary rubbed his back. “You don’t have to! We got him some presents and Sam isn’t old enough to remember this anyway.”

“B-but you g-get presents f-for people you l-love,” Dean hiccoughed, cheeks wet.

“Sam knows you love him, baby. Look.” She turned Dean gently toward where his little brother was sitting up - a brand new skill - and tearing colorful paper between his chubby fists. “He’s more interested in the wrapping paper than the presents.”

Dean considered that, breathing wetly through his snotty nose. Then he sniffed, wiped his face on his sleeve, and grabbed an armful of his own discarded wrapping paper, carrying it over to Sam. He put it down carefully beside his brother, and petted Sam’s silky, insubstantial hair. “Here Sammy. Merry Christmas.”

Two - 1984

It had been eight months since the fire and Dean still wasn’t speaking much. When he did speak it was in few words, and whispers. When John asked him what he wanted for Christmas Dean just shrugged. John knew it wasn't fair to be angry at his five year old son for not being excited about Christmas, but he was.

"John Winchester, you pull your head out of your ass," Missouri told him. "You're bringing the boys over here, getting them something nice, and you're gonna stay sober till 9.” Missouri saved his skin in more ways than one, that first year.

On Christmas Eve, after they’d opened the presents that John’d had the cashier wrap, Dean said, “I have a present for Sammy," and John blinked because that was more words than Dean had said in a month.

Dean went into Missouri’s kitchen and came out carrying a plate of lopsided cookies. He sat down cross legged on the floor beside Sam who was playing with his new stuffed animal, and offered him one. Then as an afterthought held one out to John.

“Did you make these, Dean?” John asked but Dean didn't answer.

"He wanted to make them himself," Missouri told John while Sam stuffed the cookie into his face.

Sam swallowed his cookie and reached for another one, crumbs all over his face. Dean handed him one, and said, very softly, “Merry Christmas, Sammy.”

Three - 1994

Dad had left them at Pastor Jim’s and promised to be back for Christmas. He wasn’t. Pastor Jim at least didn’t bother to make excuses for him, or try to offer platitudes. Dean supposed he was used to handling his flock’s hurt and unhappiness.

They stayed up for midnight mass. Sam liked the rituals of the church, the singing and chanting. Dean stifled a yawn. Afterward, when the candles were all put out, and they had gone back to the refectory with Jim, Dean was ready to sleep but Sam was restless and unhappy.

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked, stripping for bed.

“Dad said he’d be here,” Sam said.

Dean stifled a sigh and sat down on the edge of Sam’s mattress beside him. “I know, baby boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Sam mumbled.

“Shrimp. Midget. Squirt.”

Sam shoved him, half heartedly, and they tussled a little before settling again. Sam’s shoulders were slumped, and it made Dean’s chest ache. “Hey, do you want your present?” he asked.

Sam shrugged, but his eyes had brightened a little. The promise of presents never failed to be motivating. Dean pulled the wrapped package out of his duffel bag.

It was a cheap, reusable Kodak camera that Dean had paid for with actual cash. Sam loved flipping through National Geographics and LIFE Magazines at gas stations, looking at the photography. “You’re looking in the wrong mags. The naked girls are behind the counter,” Dean had told him.

“It’s called photojournalism, Dean,” Sam had sniped at him.

Dad had a camera but it was strictly for documenting evidence on cases. So Dean figured Sam might like one of his own. Judging from the indrawn breath as Sam tore off the paper, he’d been right.

“Dean… thanks,” Sam breathed.

Yeah, he was an awesome big brother. Grinning to himself, Dean got up and finished changing for bed. “Now you can photojournalism your little heart out. Send LIFE some pictures of ghosts. What do you think your first project’s gonna be?”

“Not your ugly face,” Sam said, sounding a little choked up.

Dean slid under the chilly sheets and rolled on his side facing Sam. “Hey, you love my face.”

Sam ignored that. “Do you want your present now?”

“Nah. In the morning.” The sheets rustled as Sam settled into the other bed. “Night Sammy. Merry Christmas.”

Four - 1997

Sam couldn’t even have told you what the fight was about, but it was Christmas Eve, Dad was eight hundred miles away hunting wraiths in eastern Texas, and Sam and Dean were fighting.

“Why are you such a bitch?” Dean spat.

“Maybe because our lives are absolute shit!” Sam yelled back. They were facing each other across the living room of a run-down squat in Louisiana. The only marks of Christmas were the beer-can tree Dean had built over the past two weeks, and the pitiful presents sitting unopened on the low table between them.

“Yeah? You know what’s making my life shit right now? My bratty, ungrateful little brother who can’t pull his head out of his ass and think of someone other than himself for one godforsaken minute!”

The words might have hurt, if it hadn’t felt so good to have Dean snap back at him for once. It was like Sam was always boiling, these days, helplessly picking fights and lashing out, and Dean just went quieter and quieter, drinking more and more at night when he thought Sam was asleep. The cracking open of the tension between them was exhilarating.

“I am thinking about other people! How other people have normal lives and normal Christmases and normal families!”

“You think you can just close your eyes and pretend you don’t know what’s out there? Do you want Santa to bring you a lobotomy for Christmas?”

“You’re such an asshole! I don’t even want to look at you!” Sam shouted.

“Fine, fucking be that way,” Dean yelled, slamming out the door.

Sam flopped onto the couch and pummeled his fists into the grungy cushion, and tried to ignore the fact that his dick was rock hard from arguing with his brother.

When he had exhausted himself, he turned his head and saw the present Dean had tried to give him, before they’d started arguing about something completely inconsequential. Wiping off his face, Sam sat up and reached for the box.

Inside was a brand new Sony Walkman, that had probably cost two weeks of Dean’s wages at his convenience store job, and an unlabeled mixtape. He sat for a long time with the box on his lap, stomach roiling. Dean didn’t come back that night.

Five - 1999

“Merry Christmas, Sammy,” Dean said, setting a beer down beside Sam on the coffee table.

“A beer, Dean, really? That’s your idea of a Christmas present?”

“Hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?” Sam snorted but took the beer anyway. Dean nudged him over on the couch and sank down beside him, thigh warm against his. “Kidding. Here.” He handed over a newspaper-wrapped package that was obviously a book.

It was a copy of Cat’s Cradle by Vonnegut. Dean rubbed the back of his neck self consciously. “I don’t know if you’ve read it, but, uh, I thought it was pretty good. Thought you’d like it. I mean, if you haven’t read it.”

“Dean.” He put a hand on Dean’s knee to stop him. “I haven’t read it. Thank you.”

Dean still looked embarrassed, so Sam leaned in and kissed him, which made Dean blush even darker. It was thrilling and perfect. They’d been doing this for years now, and Sam still wasn’t used to how goddamned good it was.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” he whispered against his brother’s mouth, and the book slid to the floor as Sam crawled into Dean’s lap.

Plus one - 2003

Dean looked exhausted when he showed up at Sam’s apartment two days before Christmas. He had a week old gash on one arm that was healing but inflamed, and he shooed Sam off when he tried to look more closely. “I’m fine. I got some amoxicillin I’ve been taking for it.”

Sam’s roommates were gone for the holidays, and Sam had the place to himself. At least he wasn’t in the dorms this year. He steered Dean to the couch, and brought him a beer and leftover Chinese food. While Dean ate, Sam put a cassette in the stereo - an expensive model, thanks to Zach’s family’s money - and let the strains of Kashmir fill the room. Dean looked up, blinking, recognizing the song. “Is this...?”

“Uh-huh.” Sam sat down on the arm of the couch beside him. “You remember making this for me?” The tape was so well played that the sound had gone soupy at one point in the middle of Wayward Son.

“Yeah, you were what, fourteen, fifteen? I was trying to save you from your own miserable taste in music, but I clearly failed.” Dean kicked his feet up on the coffee table, reminiscing. “God, you were a bitch that year. Just nonstop tantrums. It was like having a toddler all over again.”

“In my defense, I was hormonal, confused, and in love with my brother.”

“Excuses, excuses. You didn’t see me losing my shit, did you?”

Sam rolled his eyes, chest warm. “You gonna stay for Christmas?”

Dean looked startled. “What day is it?”

“The 23rd.”

“Oh. That’s why the traffic was so bad.”

Sam laughed. “You didn’t know?”

“I’ve been losing track a little,” Dean muttered, and Sam felt a flutter of worry through his stomach. He slid down onto the couch beside Dean, squishing his brother a little.

“Stay. Please?”

“I didn’t bring you a present.”

Sam wrapped his arms around his brother, burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck where he smelled like home. “Don’t care,” he mumbled. “Just you is perfect.”

Happy Holidays!!!!! Enjoy this shameless fluff. (I know I've taken a few liberties with the timeline, pls ignore).

xoxoxo Secret Santa ;)

#12daysofwincestmas #12 days of wincestmas #wincest #omgggg #this was so adorable!!!!#for a moment i thougt the last one would be heartbreaking but it was actually so swret!!!!#i love these slices of life stories! they warm my heart 😍♥️#submission

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anxstiel · 5 years

Text

Broken Promises

Author: @anxstiel

Prompt: None

Pairings: None

Warnings: ANGST! Depression. Major Character Death. Sam Whump. John Whump. Mentally Unstable.

Word Count: 2K

Modern!AU

A/N:

Mary still died in a house fire. John is nice and has settled with Sam and Dean. No monsters.

This is from Sam’s P.O.V.

I’m not actually sure if anyone has written anything like this. This idea just suddenly hit me while I was sitting on the couch and staring out the window watching birds.

Italics is narration up to the linebreak.

Summary: How could Sam go on without his brother by his side?

What are you supposed to do when your brother, your hero, leaves you?

A thirteen-year-old Sam Winchester frowned from his seat on the couch as he watched his father and brother pack their hunting gear. He felt uneasy about them leaving on a hunting trip all weekend. Sam had this horrible feeling in his stomach - a feeling that something terribly wrong was going to happen, something that was going to change his life forever.

Do people expect you to mourn for a couple of weeks? Months?

Dean rolled up his jeans and shoved them into his duffel bag before glancing over at his baby brother. Seeing his frown, the eldest brother gave a soft smile and made his way over. “Hey,” he addressed softly, crouching down to look his brother in the eye. “What’s wrong, Sammy? You’re not worried about being stuck with Missouri for a weekend are you?” He lightly punches Sam’s arm in hopes to try and cheer him up. “What? Afraid to get cooties by being stuck with a girl?”

Are they thinking that you’ll get over it?

Sam wrinkled his nose at his brother’s comment. “Dean,” he argued. “I’m thirteen! I don’t believe in cooties anymore!”

Chuckling, Dean ruffled his brother’s hair. “Whatever you say, little brother.” Sam childishly stuck his tongue out at his brother - only for the gesture to be returned. John watched with a fond smile before packing away the rest of his clothes. He picked up his and Dean’s duffel bags and placed them by the door before turning and making his way to his boys.

That you’ll forget in time?

John crouched beside the brothers. “C’mon kiddo,” he nudged Sam’s shoulder affectionately. “Tell your old man what’s wrong.”

The young teen looked down at the ground, his feet swinging under him, too short to touch the ground. “Nothing,” he mumbled, shrugging. “I just want you guys to stay safe. That’s all.”

Do they not understand what he meant to you?

Dean gave his little brother a light smile and snaked his arm across his shoulders. “Sammy,” he assured. “It’s not like this is our first time! We know what we’re doing. Besides, we’ve come back after every trip. What makes this hunt so different?”

Sam didn’t know what to tell them, unable to fully understand the feeling himself. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Just a bad feeling I guess.”

That he was the person who was always there?

“Well,” John started, lightly slapping his youngest on the back. “You have nothing to worry about, son. We’ll be back before you know it!”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean assured, a smile gracing his handsome features. “Sunday night, just listen for the sound of the Impala! Dad and I will come in, cook us up some grub and continue life as normal!”

Who never left your side?

Sam knew they were just trying to ease his mind, but the feeling just wouldn’t go away.

The sound of a car door being shut from outside made the boys look towards the door. John gave Sam one last smile and ruffled his hair. He stood and went to grab their bags. Dean went to follow, but Sam quickly grabbed his hand in order to stop him.

Who stood up for you and made sure you always came first?

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked at their entangled hands but then moved up to the flushed face of his younger brother. He almost melted on the spot at the sight of those puppy dog eyes staring back at him.

“Please, Dean.” his brother’s voice was barely a whisper. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll come back.”

Scooping Sam up into his arms, Dean smiled as he wedged his head into his brother’s neck, his brother returning the gesture. “I promise, Sammy,” he whispered, his arms wrapped securely around Sam’s smaller frame. “I love you. You know that, right Sammy?”

He felt Sam nod against his shoulder. “I love you, too, Dean.”

He promised me he’d come back that day. It was the first time he didn’t keep his word.

“Sam?”

The voice was distant. He barely heard it.

“Sam? It’s me. It’s Jess.”

Sam’s head jerked at the name. He ripped his gaze from the blank, white wall in front of him and turned towards Nurse Moore, or as she let him call her, Jess. He smiled warmly at her and she returned it as she laid her hands on his.

“How are you today, Sam?” She asked the question quietly, not wanting to startle him and to make sure he understood that she meant no harm. He had been in this mental institution since he was eighteen. That was five years ago. When she first arrived, Sam instantly opened up to her. Since then, they became good friends and Jessica would always tell Sam about her day - but only if he would tell her about his.

The Winchester nodded his head excitedly, a big grin spreading across his handsome face. “It was great Jess! Dean and I had lots of fun!”

Jess internally sighed at the news of his newest adventure - but she kept her smile taking her hands away from his and putting a fist under her chin to hold her head up, her other hand lying lazily across her legs. “Oh?” she asked somewhat teasingly. “What did you boys do now?”

His smile only seemed to grow - if that was even possible. He quickly maneuvered himself on his bed so he could face Jessica, slightly tugging on his white clothes to make them straighten out. “Dean got bored on our way to a hunt so he started this prank war between us!”

Jessica raised an eyebrow. “A prank war, huh?” She laughed softly. “Who won?”

He shrugged and picked at his white sweats. “It was kind of a tie. We both did some pretty great pranks but we settled it with a truce.” He smiled fondly as he thought about it. “He started it when he put a plastic spoon in my mouth when I was sleeping. He also put itching powder in my pants.” He scrunched his nose and shifted uncomfortably as if he could still feel the itch. “I got back at him, though. I glued his bottle of beer to his hand at this diner and I also turned the Impala’s radio onto polka and turned the volume all the way up so when he turned the car on, he was in for a surprise.” He laughed at his story, looking towards the wall behind Jess in thought.

The nurse moved her head back into his view so she could get his attention. “What were you guys hunting? Was it a werewolf? Another ghost?”

Sam scrunched up his nose in annoyance. “No,” he affirmed. “These idiots in Texas thought they were real ghost hunters. They created this Tulpa. He was a tough one to beat. Dean ended up burning the whole house down!”

Jess rose her eyebrows in feigned amusement - but truly, she was worried. The stories just kept coming and he wasn’t getting better. Just a couple of months ago he was screaming about how she was killed in a fire. It took her forever to calm him down. She tried to convince him that she was still alive but even now he thought she was just a figment of his imagination - that he was in denial of her death.

“Miss Moore.”

Though the voice was quiet, it still seemed to echo in the small room. Jessica jerked towards the door to see Nurse Masters peering through the cracked door. Sam jerked his head towards the door as well and his eyes widened. He quickly turned around to the opposite side of the bed and stared quietly at the blank wall.

Jessica sighed at the sight and turned towards Meg, standing awkwardly at the door, her long black hair falling over her eyes. “What is it, Meg?” She questioned, standing up slowly and making her way out the door. She shut the door quietly, glancing through the window to see the tall, quiet figure still lost in thought.

“It’s John Winchester, Jess,” Meg admitted nodding her head to the reception desk to see an old, worn figure slumped in his waiting chair. “He’s come to check on Sam.” She looked at Jess with sympathy. “He wanted you to tell him about his son’s …” She trailed off, not wanting to say the word needed to describe the man in his room. “Condition,” she settled. “He wants to know if anything has changed since his last visit.

The nurse sighed, nodding her head in acknowledgment before giving Sam one more glance and making her way to Mr. Winchester. At the sight of her advancing form, John’s eyes widened and he stood up, trying to straighten his flannel clothing to seem more appropriate.

Jess held out her hand to him, a welcoming smile appearing on her beautiful features. “Hi, John,” she welcomed as he took her hand. “It’s good to see you back so soon for another visit!”

John chuckled lightly, a smile trying to form on his lips - but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, well,” he cleared his throat and moved his gaze away from the woman in front of him. “He is my son, Jessica. I had a day off and I had nothing better to do. I just thought I would check up on him again before I went and paid respects to -” he chokes up and clears his throat again, trying his best to keep his tears at bay. “Before I go and visit Dean.”

Jessica’s warm smile instantly turned sympathetic as she glanced down at the bouquet with a small array of flowers. The bouquet held sunflowers, blue hydrangeas, and gladiolus, as well as white carnations. It wasn’t the prettiest bouquet ever made, but Jess knew the flowers were being used for meaning and not beauty.

The older man followed her gaze and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I know they’re not exactly flowers that match, but,” He looks back towards her. “They hold meaning.”

Smiling, Jess put a hand on John’s arm for comfort. “I understand, John. Losing your son must have been very difficult. And then having your other son having to leave as well,” they both turned to look down the hall at the closed door. “It’s enough to make any parent go insane. You’re doing your best. I’m sure those flowers would look absolutely beautiful on Dean’s grave. I only wish I got to meet him.”

He smiled sadly. “Hmm. I could have seen you two being friends. He liked to tease and pull pranks. He was a big goofball.” John seemed to get lost in thought as he looked outside a window. “He wanted to be a mechanic. He loved cars. Always had a dream of settling down with a nice girl, having kids,” he chuckled lightly. “He adored kids. He tried to act tough and manly but in truth, he would do anything to be around a kid. That’s one of the reasons why he and Sam were so close …” John trailed off and Jessica didn’t pressure him into telling more. She waited as he took a deep breath to calm himself and clear his throat. “Anyways, I’m getting off track. Has my … has his condition change?”

His hopeful expression turned downcast as she reluctantly shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s not approving. But it’s not worsening either. His condition hasn’t changed any in the past three years.”

“So he’s still coming up with these stories?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Just before you arrived he was telling me a story of him and Dean having a prank war. They were also hunting some sort of monster again. A Tulpa I think. Whatever that is.”

“A Tulpa,” he ran a hand down his face as he thought. “Yeah, they’re, like, these monsters created by thought forms. Have enough people believe in something added with the right symbol and the creature would come to life.” He huffed a small laugh, staring at Sam’s door down the hall. “I never knew he paid attention to those tales I told him and his brother. He always hated them. He was more into the facts, not the myths.”

“Yes, well,” Jessica looked down towards her feet, her eyes glazed with sympathy for both of the remaining Winchester’s. “It seems as if those myths have become his new reality. I wish we had better news for you, John.”

John closed his eyes and waved his hand in the air lazily to stop her. “It’s okay. You and the rest are doing the best that you can to look after him and for that, I am eternally grateful!” He turned and took the bouquet of flowers into his hand before holding it up for Jess. “Now, I believe it is time I visit my son. Could you hold these for me?”

Jessica smiled thoughtfully at him as she took them from him, lightly grazing her fingers across their petals. “I’ll make sure no harm comes to them, Mr. Winchester.” She turned away from him and made her way back to the receptionist desk. John watched her sit down by some files and finally returned her smile. The smile dropped as he stared down the familiar, blank hallway that he has been walking down for the past five years. He didn’t even realize that he moved until he found himself right outside his son's door.

Inside, Sam Winchester sat, slumped, on the edge of his bed. He eyes were glazed over as they focused on his shoes. He said no word and made no attempt of movement - just lost in his fantasies.

Quietly, John opened the door, trying his best not to spook Sam. He closed the door behind him and stood awkwardly in front of it. He was never really sure what to do during these visits. Sam would never talk back to him unless it was about something he had supposedly done in his son’s fantasy. The last time he had visited, it didn’t end very well. He had walked through the door and as soon as Sam had seen him he had started yelling about him not being there for his sons.

He could remember the day quite clearly - it was like a nice, big punch to the stomach. Sam had screamed things - things no parent would want to hear.

“Where are you?” he had grounded out, his hands turning into fists. “Why won’t you help us? Dean is dying! Your son is dying!” He was screaming at this point, advancing towards a frightened John. He stood frozen at his spot as assistants rushed in due to the noise, trying their best to hold Sam back. They sent John away and he sat in the waiting room down the hall, his face being held in his hands as he thought about his son’s words - ringing in his head, implanting themselves into his brain. He knew Sam was talking about his made-up world, but whatever was happening there had held bits of reality. Of Dean dying. Of John not being there. Of him failing both his son’s. He got back home that day and wept.

Now, looking down at the still form of his only remaining family, John didn’t want to let him down again.

Pulling up a chair, John sat down and took a deep breath, trying to think of what he could possibly say to his damaged son. “Uh, hey Sammy,” he nervously rubbed his palms on his pant legs, looking everywhere but at his son. “It’s been awhile, huh?” He mentally scolded himself. He’s acting as if the man in front of him was a complete stranger. He sat up.

“Sam. It’s me. John Winchester. Your father.” No reply. John sighed and looked towards the door, thinking over the words needed to be said. “Son, if you can hear me, I just wanna say sorry. I have no right to say that to you but I truly am sorry. I failed you. Both of you.” He looked down at his feet, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “I made Dean break his promise to you. I wasn’t fast enough. I left him. I heard him yell. I heard the gunshot. It’s all my fault that you lost your brother.” He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes, looking back up to stare at Sam’s tense shoulders.

A soft bark of laughter bubbled in his throat as he thought of himself, as he thought of how he ruined his entire family. “Sammy,” he paused, his light laugh turning into a plea. “Please, Sammy! Say something! Anything!” He made his in front of Sam getting down on his knees and taking his son’s face into his rough, calloused hands. Sam’s face remained stoic, his eyes still glazed over. “Sam, I just want you to talk to me. You can yell, scream - I don’t care! Just please.” He let out a sob, finally letting his tears trail down his face. No matter how hard he pleaded, Sam said nothing.

He hung his head in defeat, letting his forehead rest on his son’s - just for a moment. He let out a broken sigh and stood, making his way to the door. With one last look at Sam, he opened the door and began to make his way out - until he was stopped by a soft voice.

“He’s the one that broke his promise, Dad.”

John, his jaw hung wide open, looked at his son in amazement.

“He’s the one that promised me he would be careful,” Sam turned towards his father, his eyes dulled with emotion as he admitted the truth for the first time in years. “He’s the one that left your side. He’s the one that left.” The man turned back to his wall. “I’m sorry Dad.”

And then he was silent once more, his mind being drawn back to his world of fantasy.

John had no words. He closed his eyes as one last tear slid down his cheek. “Don’t you ever say sorry to me, son,” his voice was weak and broken, but he could only hope that Sam could still hear it. “None of this is either of your boy’s fault. None of it.” He left. Silently shutting the door behind him, he made his way to the receptionist desk and politely thanked Jessica for holding the flowers and he left. Hopping into his Impala he drove to the graveyard and found Dean’s grave.

Placing the flowers on the grave, he began to talk.

He talked about lots of things. He talked about the shop, the cars. About new movies and shows coming out on television. It seemed he couldn’t stop talking about the advancement in technology over the years - how they now have computers almost everywhere. And then he was talking about Sam.

“Your brother,” he heaved a great sigh and watched as geese swam in the nearby pond. “He’s not getting better, Dean. I mean, he’s not getting worse, but still not better.” He hung his head. “The doctors don’t think he’ll ever come back from this. His denial is so deep. He misses his big brother.”

Lightly, he traced his hand over the smooth marble of the gravestone. He admired it and the beauty it showed. He looked over at the grave of his wife, knowing that six-feet under, the casket was empty - the body that was supposed to be there burnt to ashes in the house fire that had changed both his and his son’s lives. He sighed and turned his eyes towards the sky, a single dove flying high above.

“If only promises couldn’t be broken.”

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #family #angst #crazy!sam #depression #denial #fanfiction #supernatural #mine #my writing

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backseatofimpala-blog · 6 years

Text

I'll be there for you

No warnings. SamxJess pairing, i do not own the charachters or the episode this is copied after (season 1, home) Over the next several months of traveling with Jess and his brother, Sam noticed how different Dean was, mostly how Dean seamed to shy away from women desperate for a quick lay, instead of seducing them. Dean stuck more to hustling pool and winning poker.

"Are you gay now?" Sam asked his brother after the case of the hookman, and he didn't even flirt with the collage girls. Dean gaped at his little brother.

"...the hell..." Dean mused slowly.

"Do you have a girl friend?" Sam probed on. Dean bitch faced his brother and heades for the bathroom door.

"Ok we're done talking... Jess control your man." Dean remarked.

"Give me a pair of hand cuffs and i will." Jess smirked. Dean smirked at his brother, giving him a hidden thumbs up and left the room.

"Be done by the time I get out this time." Dean smirked, and Sam scowled as Dean shutthe door. "Dont for get to suit up first, Sammy." Dean called through the door turning the shower on.

"I'm sorry, Jess." Sam groaned.

"Why is Dean so closed off." Jess asked.

"Life of a hunter, babe." Sam explained simply. Jess frowned.

"You aren't like that." She proclaimed.

"I was... two years ago, when we first met." Sam answered.

"Dean isnt nearly as stubborn as you, he'll be an easy nut to crack." Jess pulled Sam on to the bed and straddled his lap. Sam stares up at her his hazle eyes going soft.

"I dont know what I'd do with out you." Sam whispered to her. She smiled sand held his face tenderly in her hands.

"Mmmm, crash and burn." She replied over his. Sam held her close and kissed her letting her know just where he wanted this to go.

"Easy there, Sam." Jess smiled pulling away, Sam groaned loudly, "You need to sleep before I pull out the handcuffs."

"What makes you think after all this time I'll be the one in cuffs?" Sam smirked.

"Maybe living a hunters life has brought out the beast in me." She giggled stripping to her underwear and diving under the covers.

"Damn woman you cant keep teasing me like this." Sam chuckled hugging her closely.

"Go to sleep Sam, you get a good night's sleep and we'll dicuss the cuffing arrangements." Jess sighed getting comfortable in Sam's arms.

Jess awoke in ths middle of the night to Sam having a nightmare. She sat up and saw Dean watching, worry etched into his forehead.

"Should i wake him?" Jess whispered. Dean shrugged helplessly.

"Shhh, its ok Sam." Jess soothed a hand down Sam's arm, the young man calmed slightly and fell back in to a restful sleep. Jess looked up at Dean and shrugged with worry.

"He's a tough kid." Dean nodded settling back down into his bed.

The next morning Sam sat quietly on his and Jess's bed sketching something, while Dean rattled off cases they could work.

"Sacramento man shoots himself in the head three times..." Dean said enthusiastically, only to have Sam remain silent, "any of these things blowing up your skirt pal?"

"Maybe we should take a break for awhile.

"Wait I've seen this." Sam mutteres bolting out of bed and rummaged around for thier dads journal.

"Seen what?" Dean questioned. "What are you doing?"

"Dean, I know where we have to go next." Sam answered.

"Where?"

"Back home... back to Kansas." Sam explained. Dean glanced to Jess awkwardly.

"Ok random... where did that come?" Dean muttered.

"Ok this photo was take in front of the old house, the house mom died in?" Sam asked.

"Yeah..." Dean answered tightly.

"It didnt burn down right? I mean not completely? They rebuilt it, right."

"Yeah i guess so. Why? What the ya talkin bout?" Dean answered getting really lost.

Ok tjis is gonna sound crazy, but i think the people who live in our old house... i think they might be in danger." Sam stated.

"What makes you think that, babe?" Jess questioned.

"Uhh... i just... uhh... look just trust me on this ok."

"Ok... woah woah... trust you?" Dean questioned following Sam as he started packing.

"Yeah."

"Come on man thats weak. You gotta give me more than that." Deans voice raised slightly, getting frustrated with his brother.

"I can't really explain..." Sam mumbled.

"Well tough!" Dean proclaimed. Jess scowled at the older Winchester.

"Watch it Dean." She snapped. Dean glanced at her but ultimately ignored her.

"We arent going any where until you have a better explination than 'trust me." Dean stated firmly. Sam sighed and looked to Jess who still was glaring at Dean.

"I have these nightmares..." Sam started.

"We've noticed..." Dean crossed his arms nodding to Jess.

"...And sometimes... not always... they come true." Sam explained, pocketing his hands, head and shoulders slumping.

"Come again?" Dean almost laughed.

"I believe him." Jess cut in, "we should go to Kansas." She stated.

"Come on, people have wierd ass dreams all thw time. I have a friend who dreamed she worked at KFC with Todd the wraith from Stargate Atlantis." Dean exclaimed.

"Five months ago i didn't believe in monsters. But since you interupte our lives I've questioned everything ive ever believed in! We were attacked by a windingo, ghost water child, plane demons, thee bloody mary, a shapeshifter, and a swarm of fucking nasty killer bugs!" Jess ranted, "dont you think its probable that maybe Sam could be having dream visions." Jess snapped.

"Sam i can't go backthere

"We are going to check on this family in Kansas, Dean." Jess stated firmly. Dean swallowed hard and nodded.

"Ok, I'll go get the car ready." Dean nodded walking out.

"Thank you, Jess." Sam sighes. She smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Tell me about what happened to your mom as we get ready to go. "

Dean leaned heavily on the impala, trying to catch his breath. He pulled out his phone. He psusef over dads name in his contacts then scrold back up to the C's. He dialed the number and waited.

"Ello beastie!" The chippet voice brought a smile to Dean's worried face.

"Hey Cali. It's always good to hear from ya." Dean smiled.

"You sound a bit worried... what's up." She questioned.

"Sam wants to go home..."

"To Stanford? I dont think that's such a good idea. Everyone there thinks they died when the house burnt down." Cali explained urgently.

"No... not stanford... home... Kansas... where mom..."

"Oh...." she interuptsd with comprehension. "I thought you swore you were never going back there."

"I did, but Sam had a nightmere someone dies in the house... so he and Jess out voted me... son of a bitch, i feel like a third wheel with these two..."

"I know what you mean... anyway back to Kansas, huh? When are you guys leaving..."

"As soon as they pack up..." Dean answered, sighing heavily.

"Ok Dean take a deep breath and relax. Everything is gonna be ok." She assured. Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

"Ok, i gotta go." Dean hung up as Sam and Jess walked out of the room.

When they got to Lawrence they found Missouri. Before they knocked the door opened.

"Don't just stand there gaping get on in here." Missouri ordered turning away from them. "close the door Dean, and quit your cussin'." Missouri ordered.

"I didn't say anything." Dean argued, following Missouri into the living room.

"Missouri is a very inept type of psychic from Africa."

"Cali?" Dean questioned. "Wh... what are you doing here? in Kansas?" He asked.

"You called... and you sounded really upset. So I'm here." Jess cooed loudly earning a glare from both Dean and Cali. "...and made apple pie." Cali finished with a smile setting a plate of the warm food in frontof him. Dean eagerly took a bite groaned in apprciation.

"Ok let's talk about the case." Cali smiled. "I'll keep it distracted while you four get the purification bags in the walls..."

"How are you going to keep it distracted." Jess asked.

"Well I..." Cali started glancing at Dean who was sti stuffing his face.

"Leave that part of the plan up to ms. Cali." Missouri stated. "Now when it realizes whats going on things will get ugly."

Cali fought the seemingly invisible foe easily. She shook her head following its movement's.

"I can see you stupid." She smirked.

"What are you." It hissed.

"Im the nightmere to nightmares like you." She replied.

"Your eyes are black as a demons." It hissed circling her.

"A, they arent actually demons per se... and B, I'm WAY worse for you than a demon." She smiled. It remained silent a long moment.

"GRIMM!" It snarled.

"Bingo bitch!" She laughed then grunted as it used its telekinesis to push her back. "Are you guys done yet!" Cali bellowed.

"Just finished." Dean reported.

"It didn't work."Cali grunted.

"It had to of worked!" Missouri proclaimed.

"NO!" Cali exclaimed as Sam and Dean slamed up to the wall. "Leave them alone!" She shouted pushing against the poltrigists telekinesis. Next thing Dean knew thw force on his chest was gone ad Cali chopped the things head off with a long silver triangular shaped blade. She huffed and looked at her companions.

"Damn!" The brothers said at the same time.

"Fat lotta good you twits did." She snorted.

"That it? Its over?" Jess panted. @strangeangel99 @clockworkmorningglory

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #fanfic #fanfiction #samxjess pairing #grimm

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