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backroadboy · 21 days

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At The End Of All Things

"You know, Dean, I–" Cas pauses, his brows furrow. "I don't want you to feel like you have to carry this all on your own, because you don't. We're all stuck here. We are all hopeless and scared, and– I know it isn't much, but...I am glad it's us." "Yeah, I– me too, man. Me too." And who was Dean to want more than this? - or - The world is ending, and there is nothing Dean can do about it, but he isn't alone. He has Cas. They have each other. Dean just needs a little time. Because this story is, above all else, about hope.

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if you want to read a story about Dean and Cas at the end of the world tiptoeing around their feelings until they don't? well, this is the fic for you.

Snippet under the cut:

Dean tries to ignore the disappointment that leaks into his bones when he arrives and realizes that the lights in the cabin aren't on yet. He shakes his head and laughs at himself. This is ridiculous. Dean closes the door behind him and turns on the lights. It takes a few moments before the lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling turns on with a faint click.

The place is decent. Most of the cabins have a similar layout, a big living room with a small kitchenette situation, a bathroom, and a bedroom or in Dean's case two bedrooms. They had managed to make themselves at home the best they could with what they had, and living with Cas turned out to be much easier than Dean had thought. In the shelter of these walls, it almost felt like they were living a normal life. Cas and Dean had spent hours on their shared sofa, planning and researching ways to stop the end of the world, but they'd also spent an equal amount of hours just talking, drinking, and simply... being. Dean justified their little roommate situation as something necessary for them to make progress in their big plan to get Sam back. So sharing a cabin with Cas had been, above all, a matter of convenience.

"Are you going to stand there all night?"

Dean jumps slightly at the sound of the voice he'd recognize anywhere. "Jesus- fuck, Cas!" He puffs before turning around. Dean catches sight of his friend's silhouette – all broad shoulders and messy hair – in a corner of the room.

"You look terrible."

Dean can hear the amusement in Cas' voice as he pushes himself from where he is currently leaning against the doorframe of their bathroom. He walks a few steps in Dean's direction, and Dean moves without thinking, meeting Cas halfway, taking him in a tight embrace. Cas returns the hug without hesitation, and Dean feels his body relax against strong and comforting arms. On instinct, he buries his face in the crook of Cas' neck and takes a deep breath. Cas smells like cedar wood and smoke, he smells like soil and sweat.

Dean is finally home.

"Good to see you too, man. You look–" Dean begins, but stops when he gets a better look at Cas under the artificial light of their kitchen. He glimpses at the dried blood on Cas' temple, then the black eye, and his busted bottom lip.

He grabs Cas' shoulders, maybe a little too roughly, "Woah, what the fuck happened to you, man?"

Cas just shrugs, eyes tired, but a soft smile adorning his lips. He loosens his grip around Dean's shoulders and takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides. The loss makes Dean frown, his hands move up on their own accord. It takes him a second to realize what he is doing, but when he does, Dean relaxes his face and crosses his hands over his chest. He leans against the kitchen counter behind him instead.

Smooth, Winchester. Real smooth.

#I am so sorry i keep posting this #but the link I used stopped working #this story is veryyy much centered around dean coming to terms with a lot of feelings and wanting to do things right with cas #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #my writing #destiel fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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kryptid-writes · 10 months

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Chapter 4 - A Winchester Welcome

Y/N finds herself in a bunker with three unfamiliar men that are determined to help her.

(1.9k)

I stir to the sound of unfamiliar voices, sounding muffled and far away.

“You must know something, I mean, why would he just take some regular girl?” A man with a gruff voice says.

“I’ve heard nothing of it. She’s not on the list of prophets and she doesn’t seem to have any connections to Heaven or Hell,” another man replies, his voice low, gravelly, and unusually monotone.

“So what? He just abducted her for fun?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” a third man pitched in, his voice slightly softer than the others.

My eyes flutter open, the light falling on my sensitive pupils. I quickly come to the realization that I am no longer in the house that Lucifer had dragged me to. I’m slumped over in a chair sat at a long wooden table in what looks to be some sort of underground shelter or bunker.

The foundation is made of steel, layed with brick, and supported by concrete pillars. Hundreds of books and weird artifacts displayed on shelves line every wall, illuminated by the soft warm glow of overhead lights.

I must consider my options quickly. Who knows how long it will take for the three men across the room to notice that I am no longer asleep. If I've learned anything recently, it's that the world is a lot more frightening than I've ever known before and nobody can be trusted.

I have to find a way out and fast. Running clearly hasn’t worked out for me, so that only leaves me one option: I have to fight my way out of here. I scan the room around me looking for anything to defend myself with. My eyes land on a sharp letter opener laying on the table in front of me on a stack of scattered papers and books. It’s not ideal, but it will have to do. I swipe it quickly and hold it at arm's length in front of me as I quietly rise from my seat.

This catches their attention, stopping their conversation dead in its tracks. For a second there’s silence, it hangs uncomfortably in the air until the tallest man finally speaks up.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you,” he says in a gentle, soothing voice, that in any other circumstance would have put me at ease.

He has long flowing locks of brown hair tucked behind his ears and a blue flannel that hugs his tall, muscular build. He’s well over six feet tall, not someone that I could easily take in a fight, he’d most likely snap me in half without breaking a sweat. But something about him is soft and caring.

He takes a hesitant step towards me and raises his hands to show he means no harm.

“Stay away from me you demonic fucks!” I yell, swinging the letter opener and slowly backing away towards the open hallway behind me. Truthfully I have no clue what the layout of this building is. For all I know, this hall could lead me even deeper into this nightmare of a situation, but staying in this room trapped with three mysterious men is not an option.

“We’re not demons, we’re here to help you. I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean Winchester,” he gestures between him and the other man in flannel.

Dean puts on a fake smile and gives a half hearted wave.

My eyes shift to the man in a trenchcoat behind them, standing silently with an intense gaze.

Dean catches this and gives him a subtle nudge to the shoulder.

The man looks confused and annoyed at first, then clears his throat. “I am Castiel. Angel of the Lord,” he states flatly.

“Yeah? Well I've had enough of you twisted angels for a lifetime. So, if you'll excuse me, I’ll be taking my leave!” My voice quivers, but my face stays strong and stoic. I take a step back towards the nearest hallway, readying myself to make an escape.

Sam seems to take pity on me, clearly seen in his big brown puppy dog eyes.

Dean and Castiel on the other hand, look rather annoyed.

“You don't want to do that,” Dean warns.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” I huff, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Lucifer seems to have taken an interest in you and he will stop at nothing to find you. If there’s one thing I know about my brother, it’s that he’s stubbornly persistent,” the angel weighs in.

“We have this place sigilled to high Heaven. He won’t be able to get to you in here, but as soon as you leave those doors, we can’t protect you from him,” Dean says, crossing his arms.

“Why would you want to help me?”

“It’s what we do,” he replies with a smile.

“I promise you, you’re safe here. You just have to trust us,” Sam says, approaching me carefully like I'm some wounded animal.

I give a quick nod and reluctantly lower the letter opener, deciding to let my guard down, seeing as I don’t have many other options at the moment.

Sam takes the blade from my hand and flashes me a relieved smile, placing it on the worn wooden table. He pulls out two chairs, the scrape of wood echoing around the large room. He sits on the chair to the right and pats the other, urging me to sit next to him.

With caution I slide into the chair, never taking my eyes off him in fear this all may be a trap.

“What’s your name?” He asks kindly, gently placing his hand on mine in an act of sincerity.

I can’t help but remember the feeling of Lucifer's hand over mine, the buzz of electricity that quivered through us. I shake off the memory, refocusing my attention on Sam.

Dean and Castiel leave the room, having a hushed conversation between the two.

“Y/N.”

“That’s a lovely name.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of what to say. “How are you holding up? I’m sure this is a lot to take in at once.” He feathers his hands through his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear.

“I’ve been better,” I reply bitterly.

He nods sympathetically.

The room goes quiet as we both become lost in thought.

Dean returns holding three bottles of beer, Cas following not far behind. He places a bottle in front of me, popping off the cap with a pocket knife before taking his seat across the table.

Cas looms awkwardly behind him, staring me down suspiciously, like a bomb that may go off at any moment.

Without a second thought, I grab the bottle, putting the cold glass rim up to my lips and chug. I close my eyes and feel the bubbly liquid flowing down my throat, leaving a warm sensation in its wake. I drink until the bottle’s completely empty, shaking it lightly to get every last drop. The alcohol eases my worries, reminding me of my days before the dreams started, before being kidnapped by the devil, before being injected by the mystery serum, before finding myself in a bunker with two men and their angel. The days, that in hindsight, I really took for granted. I open my eyes to see everyone staring at me intently.

Sam looks surprised, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar.

Dean on the other hand smiles, clearly impressed. “So,” Dean says, trailing his eyes over my form. “Why is Lucifer so fixated on you?” He asks, kicking his feet up to rest on the table and taking a swig of his beer.

Sam shoots him a disapproving look, but chooses not to say anything.

“I’m not sure actually.” I glance down at my hands, picking at the skin of my cuticles absentmindedly.

Sam silently hands me his beer.

I nod appreciatively and take a sip, choosing to savor it this time. “I started having dreams of him about a month ago. Terrible, terrible dreams. Then he abducted me. I thought for sure he was going to kill me, but he seemed possessive and surprisingly affectionate towards me?” I say uncertain, not entirely sure if I believe the words coming out of my mouth.

The three men exchange glances between each other, somewhere between confusion and skepticism.

“Affection?” Dean asks, raising his brow.

“Yeah, he kept calling me his beloved and assuring me everything was going to be okay,” I say the words like they’re sour in my mouth, leaving behind a bitter taste.

Dean's face twists in disgust picturing it. “So that’s it? Did he do anything else?” Dean questions, his deep voice echoing off the walls.

“Yes,” I state in an angry tone.

The boys lean in, waiting for me to say more, but I choose not to elaborate further. I’m not too keen on sharing the most traumatic event I've ever experienced with some strange men I just met.

“I’d like to go to my room, please.” I grab the bottle and take a long swig, tracing my eyes along the wall, purposefully looking anywhere besides them.

“Y/N,” Sam says in his soft voice, indirectly asking for more information.

“Please, Sam.” I give in, looking at his soft hazel eyes.

He nods, then stands from the chair and escorts me to an empty bedroom down the hall. We walk in silence, only the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall. “Dean’s just one room over and my room is across the way.” He points to a room a few doors down across the hall. “We’ll be here if you need anything at all.” He places his large hand on my shoulder, giving a light, reassuring squeeze.

“Thanks.” I close the door behind me, letting out a long breath I didn’t even know I was holding in. Looking around, the room is neatly cleaned. Mostly barren besides a bed, a nightstand with a small lamp, and a leather trunk at the foot of the bed. Despite the place feeling void of human touch, I still feel more comfortable here than in Lucifer's abode.

I enter the small connected bathroom and shrug off my dirty clothes, turning on the shower. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Despite the hours of sleep I've gotten recently without much say in the matter, my eyes have light purple bags under them like I've been awake for days. My hair’s a mess, strands going every which way and little knots forming at the ends. I run my fingers through, slowly working through the tangles until it looked somewhat presentable.

I step into the shower and the hot water feels incredible. It temporarily melts away the memories of the day, the tension easing out of my muscles. I lather my hair with the small bottle of lavender shampoo in the nook of the shower, and wash all the grime from my body with the tiny bar of soap. Getting clean has never felt so good in all my life. I close my eyes and stand under the stream until the warm water runs cold, the drops feeling like little needles hitting my skin.

After drying off and brushing my teeth, I slip into bed, only dressed in my underwear, as I don’t have any clean clothes to change into. My body relaxes knowing that I’m safe from Lucifer in this bunker, at least for the time being, and that’s good enough for me. For a long while I sit awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind running so fast yet feeling so empty, but eventually exhaustion sets in and sleep claims me once more.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #lucifer x reader #lucfier x reader supernatural #lucifer supernatural #lucifer #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #spn #spn fic #slow burn #love triangle #reader instert #reader insert supernatural #supernatural reader insert #choices

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hoboal87 · 6 months

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Don't Speak, Epilogue

Pairings: Adam x f!Reader, past dark!Winchesters x f!Reader, past!Dean x Claire

Characters: Reader, Adam, Claire, OCs, Special Appearances by Jack and James Novak, mentions of Bobby, Ellen, Jo, John, Sam and Dean

Warnings: aftermath of fire, aftermath of kidnapping/held prisoner, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth, aftermath of non-con, babies, mostly fluff but with some sprinkles of angst, happy ending?

WC: <1500

beta’d by the wonderful, lovely, @writethelifeyouwant

This is a dark!fic that includes potentially triggering content and is intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please, read the warnings and if you feel that you may be triggered and/or offended please move along. If you have any questions about the warnings/tags please feel free to DM me.

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Part 23

November

As the train jolts to a stop, you shush the baby at your breast, hoping that it won’t jostle him awake. You’re glad to finally be back in Boston, and in only a matter of days you, Adam, and William, will be on a ship heading back to London. Two sets of blue eyes are waiting on the platform– searching the crowds amidst the smog from the train. You gesture to Claire to look out the window and watch as elation fills her, catching a tear falling down her cheek as she lays eyes on her family.

There is a hesitation for a moment before the two of you move from your seats.

The fire not only claimed the lives of the brothers that night, but also some of the new servants who were still unfamiliar with the layout of the manor. No one was entirely sure how many lives the fire claimed; all of the bodies were too damaged and disfigured by the fire for anyone to be able to tell one from the other.

You and Claire had been confined to the same boarding house that Adam had escaped to for several weeks while Bobby tried to salvage keepsakes from the Manor, and Mr. Finch sorted through John’s will, determining what was to be done with the Winchester Estate. You’d always known that the family were wealthy, but you hadn’t ever fully comprehended exactly how much money they had. John had made plans to ensure that you and Claire and your children were to be taken care of if something had ever happened to the brothers. However, you doubt that he’d expected for his sons to die the way they did.

You and Claire both only wanted one thing: to be reunited with your families. No one in town seemed to mourn the loss of the Winchesters, but there was gossip that made its way through as you and Claire kept up appearances of the heartbroken widows. There was no funeral to speak of, only two caskets filled with charred remains and the conflicted feeling of anguish and joy, knowing that now you and Claire could move on with your lives.

It took over a month to settle everything. While John had made contingencies for the brothers’ demises, you expect that he never imagined that they would die together, or within only a few months of his own untimely death. Adam could, according to Mr. Finch, lay claim to the Winchester fortune because John had left documentation that Adam was his bastard, but Adam declined, opting to let you and Claire split the money instead. With the estate finally settled, you were free to leave Kansas. Claire had written to her father, and the four of you made your way towards Boston.

You had barely made it out of Kansas when you’d gone into labor. William James Winchester came into the world screaming. A wave of emotions flowed through you as the wailing infant was placed in your arms, tears pressing against your eyes, and you let out a choked laugh as you realized that you’d finally fulfilled the Winchester's plan for you - a legitimate male heir. Dark chocolate eyes and tufts of dark brown hair answered the question that had been in the back of your mind ever since Adam informed you that the baby couldn’t be Sam’s. And though you hated to admit it, you were happy knowing that the father wasn’t your husband or his brother, but their father.

It took longer to recover from the birth than you’d expected, and the mental and physical exhaustion of being held prisoner by the Winchesters and your escape had finally caught up with you and Claire, as well. The decision was made to halt your journey until the end of October, giving you and Claire more time to recover before continuing on to Boston.

As Claire’s eyes lock with her father’s and brother’s, a smile that you haven’t seen in ages grows across her face. You know that she hadn’t explained everything that had happened during the year she’d been gone in her letter, unwilling to let them bear the burden or guilt of knowing that they easily could’ve spared her the trauma. You’d written a similar letter to your family, though you wonder if they would believe the half-truths that you spun. You aren’t even sure you care.

You had early on in your captivity come to terms with the fact that while your parents hadn’t–at least you hoped–known what plans the Winchesters had for you, they had still abandoned you. Part of you wonders exactly what John had said to your father to make him agree to allow you to marry a complete and total stranger. You suspect that he’d offered to pay off their debts, after all that’s why you were at court that evening–to find a prospective husband who could help your family with their debts.

Tears fill your eyes as you watch Claire reunite with her family. Captain Novak’s lip quivers as she shows off baby Amelia, pressing a kiss to Claire’s forehead as she wraps her arms around him. You and Adam stay back, giving the family time to themselves, before Claire calls you over. There’s a flush on Jack’s cheeks as his eyes meet yours, and part of you wants to assure him that you understand that what happened between you was not his fault, but John’s.

You spend the next few days helping Claire get reacquainted with her family, assuring her that you and she are bonded for life, and that once the children get older, you can visit each other and, when the time comes, explain their parentage. The two of you promise to write at least once a week, and you tell her that no matter what, she’ll always be your sister.

Tears are aplenty as you arrive at the docks. With The Perdition no longer making transatlantic voyages, Adam books you on The Wayward, a much faster ship not much bigger than the Novak's, and promises you will be home in less than a week. When you arrived in Boston, the three of you didn’t have much more in the way of luggage than the clothes on your back, but as you board, you need two extra deckhands to help bring everything to your staterooms.

With a tearfilled final hug, and a last look at Amelia, you and Claire reiterate your promise to see each other again as you're told you must start boarding. You push William’s pram up the walkway, Adam’s arm linked around yours to keep you steady as you say goodbye to America and the horrors that it brought you.

Before stepping onto the deck of the ship, you turn around a final time so that you can give Claire another wave, but instead of finding her, your eyes land on a pair of green ones. You lose your footing, nearly falling off the ramp and into the water, with only Adam’s arms keeping you from doing so.

“Y/N!” he exclaims as he pulls you back to your feet, face filled with concern.

“I saw–”

Your breath hitches, heart pounding in your chest. It isn’t possible. He is dead. Buried. There is no way he could’ve survived the fire. And if he had somehow managed to, why would he wait months to come find you and your son? You look back out onto the dock. Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you. You can’t go back, not when you are so close to escaping for good.

For a moment, you convince yourself that it was nothing–an illusion–but as you start to turn, he’s there, watching from only a few yards from where Claire is standing. His eyes lock on yours as terror fills you, and you want to scream a warning to Claire. How doesn’t she see him? How can’t Adam? Before you can make any decision, Dean gives you a sad smile and a small nod before disappearing into the crowd.

“What, Kitten?” Adam turns you to face him. “What did you see?”

When you look out onto the dock, Dean has disappeared. The Novaks give another wave, and you decide that what you saw wasn’t him, but a figment of your imagination.

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “I’m just– I’m tired, and ready to go home.”

Adam links his arm in yours and presses a kiss onto your forehead as he leads you up the ramp once again. Stepping onto The Wayward, you decide to leave all memories of the Winchesters behind you, instead, focusing on your new life with Adam and William, and being reunited with your family.

But as you settle into your room that night with Adam, those green eyes still haunt you. You’re mine, sweetheart, echoes in your ear when you finally drift off to sleep.

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#dark!fic #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #angst #smut #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam x reader #supernatural #sam winchester #adam x reader

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