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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

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We've Got Tonight - Ch 5

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

This chapter in particular is dedicated to @foxyjwls007 . If I'm going to torture you with something, it's not going to be a cliffhanger. I'm going out of town for two weeks, so you get an update early since I won't be able to post while I'm away. Thank you for the encouragement.

In case you missed it: Chapter 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

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We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 5

“Miss? Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

A hand grips Andy’s arm, firm but polite, and she jerks to, almost losing her footing. It’s been a long day already, and she still has two hours before she can go home, shower, and put her feet up for a little while before karaoke at the Brass Monkey starts up.

Maybe I can even fit in a nap, she thinks excitedly. But first, gotta wake up and make it through the rest of my shift.

Of course, if she hadn’t been tossing and turning all night from a crazy dream, she wouldn’t be as tired as she is now, but that’s neither here nor there. And it doesn’t help that she can’t even remember the stupid dream. It was really long, though, and there was blood and books and…someone...

“Can I get a refill over here?”

One hour, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds to go. She can do this.

The minutes crawl, though, and it’s all she can do to stay on her feet and focus. The lunch crowd has long since thinned, and she’s about to ask if she can maybe take off a little early when the door chimes, and she catches the tail end of the entering customers’ conversation.

“Could you at least consider putting something green on your plate? Like, ever? Broccoli won’t kill you.”

“I’ve already told you, I’m getting breakfast since you didn’t wake me up early enough to eat a decent one this morning. Pancakes, bacon, and coffee, which, I might add, grows on a tree, so it counts as a plant. That’s balanced enough for me. You like broccoli; knock yourself out, Jolly Green.”

“Sam isn’t green, Dean. Is your vision faulty? Perhaps we should get your eyes examined. Or you could try carrots along with the broccoli. Carrots are supposed to improve vision.”

No. No, no, no, she thinks, her mind whirling frantically. It was a dream, they can’t be here. This is...this is how it started, and...

She turns, and there they are, Sam and Dean dolled up in their clean, pressed feds suits and Cas looking just as rumpled and bewildered as she suddenly remembers. They seat themselves at an empty table in her section, but any thoughts of leaving early evaporated the second she heard their voices.

Every moment of the dream, every minute of those four weeks comes screaming back, cramming each terror-laden, tension-ridden second into her mind so fast she actually does stumble and has to grab the back of a nearby booth to keep from hitting the worn-out linoleum.

“It...hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something? Hey, hey, hold on there. Are you okay?”

Then Sam’s hand is supporting her elbow, helping her straighten up, and she looks up into his concerned eyes, unable to express how glad she is just to see him breathing. Behind him, Dean and Cas are arguing about something trivial, wonderfully animated and alive and completely unaware of her.

“I’m sorry, hun, it’s just been a long shift. Gimme a minute to grab some waters and menus, and I’ll be right over.” Sam accepts her flimsy excuse at face value, and why wouldn’t he? He hasn’t lived with her for the better part of a month, hasn’t saved her life once, hasn’t tried to save the world with her. He doesn’t know her at all.

Why should he question a strange waitress in a strange diner who says she’s had a long day? He’s met hundreds of women just like her, maybe thousands, and he’s got no reason to question a completely legitimate statement.

She rushes into the back to find the coldest water possible to splash on her face. Her reflection gapes back at her from the staff bathroom mirror as the enormity of her situation begins to dawn on her.

Why? Why is this happening? Either she actually lived through those weeks and is somehow getting a do-over, or she dreamed the whole thing and is getting a shot to fix things from this end. But why? And how?

How in the hell?

Think, Andrea, think. It was real. It will be real. It hasn’t happened yet. You haven’t screwed everything up yet. You have to fix this. But how? How can I fix it when I screwed everything up so very badly last time?

Just...think. Think. Start small. Try to stop it before it happens. But...the cult. Crowley said they were real. They found me before, they’ll find me again. I could talk to Sam and Dean and Cas about what's going to happen. They’ve been through enough insanity in their lives that I actually have a pretty good shot at convincing them.

She stares into the mirror, racking her brain for every helpful detail she learned during her time with the Winchesters.

They're already investigating all the break-ins hereabouts; those were the cultists looking for me in the first place. Then they find me, take me, bleed me, and start the apocalypse. The boys could stop the ritual before it even happens.

Her reflection in the mirror frowns, unconvinced the solution could possibly be that easy.

But the literature, the books, it’s all still out there. Someone else could find it, could come after me. My blood is the problem. I’m the key. As long as I’m around, someone could still use me to end everything. Crowley can still use me to get to them. Think. You’ve got to actually stop everything and save them this time.

Her eyes widen as realization dawns. The world can’t make it without the Winchesters. There’s only one way out of this.

Fifteen minutes later, she sets a fresh green salad in front of Sam before dropping a towering stack of steaming pancakes in front of Dean.

“Fresh pot of coffee coming off in two, be right back with your refills. Need any more butter or syrup, hun? How ‘bout a couple of extra pieces of bacon on the house?”

“Don’t encourage him, please,” Sam groans. Dean slaps his brother on the back of the head, sending Sam’s coiffed hair into a tizzy of disarray. Sam swipes back at his brother, who waves off Sam’s attempts at retaliation like he’s swatting a fly.

“You shut your pie hole. She said free bacon. That makes her a queen.” He turns his most charming smile on her, glancing down at her name tag then back up to meet her gaze squarely. The crinkles around his eyes deepen with his grin. “Andrea, is it?”

“Andy,” she corrects automatically, and she can’t help her answering smile. He throws her a wink that clearly says he knows he’s cheesy but it's all part of his irresistible charm.

She doesn’t disagree.

“You are a goddess, Andy. I love you, and you need to know that.”

“You don’t,” she says, only just managing to keep her voice and smile level, “but you could.” His answering laugh sends a twinge through her chest, and if she clenches her jaw a little around her smile, she figures she’s entitled.

When the men finally finish eating, she offers a slip of paper to Dean, while Sam pretends he isn’t rolling his eyes.

“There’s a karaoke competition at the Brass Monkey tonight. Winner gets tab on the house for a week. Interested in maybe meeting up there around ten or so? We could have a drink, sing a song, and see where the rest of the night takes us.”

He grins and takes the slip from her with sure fingers. She’s certain he has her number memorized before the paper even retains his prints, but he makes a special show of tucking it safely into his pocket.

“Dean, do you think it wise to allow yourself to be so distracted when we’re in the middle of an investigation?”

And without even realizing it, Cas gives her the perfect opening.

“Oh, you boys investigating all the break-ins hereabouts? Were they too much for our local boys to handle? Listen, hun, my friend was one of the ladies whose house got broken into. If you want to stick around for a few minutes, I can fill you in on what I know and send you her way. Would that help?”

Castiel’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and he is clearly pleased with his first-rate investigating skills. “That would help immensely, Miss Andrea. Thank you.”

She can’t believe her luck at such a perfect lead-in, and she runs with it.

“Now that I think about it, the shop next door mentioned something about their alarm getting tripped a few nights in a row. Maybe I could talk to your friend while you two check it out? And I’ll see you tonight, Dean? Ten o’clock?”

Dean’s grin softens, and she can see the faintest tinge of red along his cheeks. She didn’t notice it the first time around, and now she wishes she’d paid more attention. Then the brothers leave, and she’s alone with the angel. ...

Chapter 6

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confusedinfj · 6 years

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Infj VS Infp

I'm always disowning a lot of so-called infj features and saying they're actually mistyped infp and isfp features, so here's a summary for you. You can mainly tell an infj and an Infp apart by how they are when they're stressed or angry.

I am NOT saying infjs are perfect. They just have different faults than the ones commonly ascribed to them.

Infp

An example of an angry infp. Tom Hiddleston hearing misquotes of Shakespeare 😂

The Fi DOOR SLAM. Yes, you heard me: the Fi DOOR SLAM. This occurs when Fi takes offence and has to cut a person off or ruin its image of self. It looks like a silent tantrum, and it is not a noble thing, no matter how hard fake infjs try to make it sound.

Passive aggression. Wait, is the Infp angry at me, or are they just tired? No, I think that comment was a dig at me. I can't tell....

Silent tantrums. When your infp doesn't speak to you, and manages to cut you out and make you feel excluded while including you just enough that no one else notices. Mad skillz.

Weird thinking. Like the modern Sherlock. Weird positions, weird rituals - just a bit weird really.

Incomplete ideas. Infps are likely to change their mind five times in a debate. Inferior Te can't help it.

Certain about feelings. Fi users will say they don't know what they're feeling, but they can usually have a pretty good guess. They'll usually be able to work it out without too much help, and if they can't it will be evident in their behaviour. If your i*fp cries over spilt milk, it's okay. They probably feel better now.

Short term feelings. Similar to above. Fi users say things they don't mean when they're upset, because, in that moment, they do mean them. Fe users can really struggle with these 'shallow emotions', which are powerful but short lived. I used to think Fi users were lying about not meaning things they'd say while angry, but then I heard of mbti and I was like - oh. They're just not me. Let's just say Fi emotions are like oceans. Deep and intense, but they swimming all over them, so they kinda know what's going on.

Turbulent. Infps lead with feeling, and - particularly when they're younger - feelings can change. That's why infps are on a quest to find their inner selves. They want to understand how they really feel about things.

A need to be misunderstood. Yes, contrary to everything they indicate, infps don't want to be understood. They want you to understood that they're a mysterious soul - that's about it. Fi makes an Infp feel special, and if you crack their Fi code they will instantly feel worthless. (btw infps, it doesn't work that way. You're still special.).

Play the victim to tell you off for hurting them. Aw, poor little infp is upset because I didn't want to do exactly what she wanted. Poor little infp is brooding quietly in a corner. Awww. TOO BAD INFPS. Ignore and they might actually tell you what's wrong 😎 This is the Infp's second shadow function (critical parent) at play here - Ni. It lets them know most people will pity them if the use the victim act, because they feel bad. Critical parent Ni SHOWS YOU WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO THEM. And yes, intps do this too.

Zero Se. They're not even sure if Se is real. What is it? If an Infp is showing signs of Se you should probably take them home, give them a book and a hot drink, and just watch them like a baby. Se in infps is unnatural. They will become even more quickly overwhelmed by stimuli than an infj because of this. But they're more likely to be in touch with their body because of Si.

Snappy control freaks when stressed or down. If you have an inf* friend and you can't call the last letter, think about what they do when stressed or sad. Do they snap at you? Say things they don't mean later? Obsessively try to control your behaviour and their environment? That's inferior Te.

Liked in spite of everything. If you can't type someone and people say they love them in spite of everything, they're almost definitely an i*fp. After all, they're still cupcakes 🎂

Infj

The face of an angry infj... Pewdiepie talking defending how much money he earns 😂 look, it's all in the eyes tbh.

The Infj door ajar. When you make it clear to the infj that they're not wanted, so they go home and close their door. But if you come back and say sorry they open it ever so slightly so you can prove yourself before you come back in.

Sudden aggression. Yes, you heard me. SUDDEN AGGRESSION. Fi mistypes have made it seem like infjs are the most subtle, passive aggressive people ever. Well they're not. Infjs will try to resolve their issues before telling you, so the depth of their grievance may overwhelm you. You might not get it the first time they tell you. So they get frustrated and appear to suddenly get very angry. Am I saying this is a good thing? No, but IMHO it's better than not telling anyone what you're upset about. Anyway, infjs only yell at people they really care about, to finally get their point across, so bear that in mind. If an infj is yelling at you they are 2000% done.

Silent anger. Ever so slightly different from a silent tantrum, because... It's anger. Every one who has ever seen an infj in their rare angry state has reported it to be scary (it's rare because an INFJ'S default reaction is sad). If an infj is telling you what's wrong you can fix the problem. If an infj is silent, you probably can't fix that.

No perceivable thinking, until weird questions. This is why infjs can be mistyped as Ne users or Te users. Occasionally they will need to think through an idea aloud (weak Ti), and thanks to the Ni-Ti loop it's probably some weird stuff. Infjs are also perceived as arrogant and thoughtless thanks to Ni- Ti, since it means they've probably thought about most things already and can just ANSWER when you ask them.

Complete ideas. Most of the time when an infj shares a thought it will be complete, which is why infjs often win arguments. Their Ni-Ti hasn't just considered their position, it's also considered your position, and your position on their position.

What R feelingz? Not all F types are the same. Some are Fe users, and let me be clear: they don't have Fi. They don't know why they feel tense - they probably didn't even realise they did feel tense. If your infj displays any form of emotion it is much deeper than it probably appears. Infj crying over spilt milk? Something is very wrong. You have to make them talk about themselves in the third person so they can work it out, because you probably can't. (*applies to Enfjs too, and all Fe users*).

Deep feelings. No, I'm not saying Fi users don't have deep feelings. I'm saying if an infj is crying about one thing, that's probably just the surface. People often complain that infjs and Enfjs in particular are emotionally mean for not sharing the full depth of their feelings, but in reality they don't know it's there. *nfjs are just sailing on the ocean of their emotions, they don't know what's what. So if they do mention something to you, take it seriously and times it by about 1000% in your head for full impact. *nfjs don't say things they don't mean when they're angry, but they may say things they've been keeping to themselves in a way they later regret. So if an *nfj is saying horrible things to you about you, don't assume they don't mean them: they do. Just try and filter the anger out and pretend they said them nicely 😂 Note: saying things in a way they regret means they may imply things they didn't mean. *nfjs don't always hear the full implications of things until they're said aloud, so try to hear the gist of what they're saying rather than taking it literally. It's why *nfjs often accidentally say things that sound dirty. They just don't realise until Fe filters it through people's reactions. 😂

Assertive. Infjs aren't as mysterious as Fi mistypes have led you to believe. In fact, infjs often tell you exactly who they are and how they work, only to be disappointed that most people don't lead with Ni and aren't trying to construct a picture of how they work. So next time your infj is upset because you don't understand them, realise they probably explained it to you already.

A need to be understood. Infjs want you to understand them. They only kind of understand themselves, and they could use some help. Don't accuse an infj of deliberately being mysterious, cos it's not true. They legit don't have a clue, k?

Tell you off for hurting them by keeping you accountable. INFJ'S critical parent is Fi, so prepare to take a good look at yourself in the mirror. If an infj feels the need to tell you off for hurting them, it's going to be calm, it's going to be rational, and it's going to hurt. You will feel guilty, because Ni-Fe will tell you exactly why you did it and why it hurt the infj. For example, maybe you lied to an infj. An infj would tell you it hurt them and go on to say something like, 'why lie about it? You know what that tells me? That tells me you knew you were doing something wrong. Because otherwise you wouldn't have felt the need to keep it from me.' And suddenly you will feel worse than them, as the infj realises the problem is yours, not theirs.

Zero Si. I don't even really know what Si is, that's how much I have it. If your infj is exhibiting signs of Si they're in a crippling state of anxiety/depression where they're trying to micromanage their world in an attempt to survive. It won't work, make them party. Zero Si also means you should take your infj seriously if they say they're sick. Idk why, but infjs NEVER look sick. Even when they're dying, they never look sick. And because of zero Si Infjs don't often feel a sickness coming on. It just hits them, and they wallow in misery, trapped in the prison that is their body 😭

Reckless when stressed or a little down. If you're in doubt about your inf* friend, think about what they do when they're stressed or sad. Do they want to go out with you? Party with you? Just do anything but stay home? That's inferior Se.

Disliked for no reason. If you can't type someone and everyone dislikes them, but no one really knows why, they're an infj. After all, they're just so... Not normal🐔

Edit: here are some pictures that symbolise for me what an infp-infj relationship of any kind is like. This is an over-idealised relationship, because fake infjs (infps) often talk about being friends with the real infps, and it's really just infp-infp 😂

And here are two which way seem contradictory. The infj is on the right in both pictures 😋

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