#and yes. dean was not reaching for his hand in canon. but i think he should be.

[gayangelcrimes]

Loving him to death

#hm i should make an original art tag #spn art #destiel #destiversary #destiversary s12 #dean winchester #castiel #cw death #banger images for a banger season #the cinematography. i love images #also yes i am once again on my 'he died with his eyes open his fresh corpse should have his eyes open' agenda #and yes. dean was not reaching for his hand in canon. but i think he should be.

[fatecantstopme]

What I'd Give

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: When Dean is gravely injured on a hunt, (Y/N) makes a deal to save him--a deal that might just cost her everything.

Warnings: canon violence, swearing, mentions of death/dying. SMUT, dom/sub vibes, choking kink, overstimulation, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V)

You screamed helplessly as you watched your best friend and fellow hunter be thrown from the window across the room. You'd just managed to stab the demon you were fighting a mere second before you heard the breaking of glass.

You yanked the angel blade out of the demon's chest and ran straight towards the demon who'd just tossed your friend out the window. You stabbed the demon in the back, bringing an end to the fight.

You looked out the window and saw the horrific scene three stories down. Your heart clenched in your chest as you raced to the stairs, making it outside in record time.

"Dean!" you cried as you reached his broken body. "No, no, no, no..."

You were almost afraid to touch him--afraid to search for a pulse and not find one. You exhaled sharply and pulled yourself together, placing a firm hand against his neck. You could feel a very weak pulse beneath your fingertips and you knew he was in trouble.

The fall had certainly broken some bones and he likely had internal injuries of some kind. The glass from the window had sliced his skin in a million places, and you were worried he would have severe head trauma as well.

Normally, you would call out to Castiel and he would come running to save Dean, but this wasn't a normal day. Cas had been missing in action for weeks, and neither you nor the Winchesters knew where he was.

Dean's safety--his survival--depended solely on you. The two of you had been hunting alone, while Sam was out helping Garth on a different hunt. You'd hunted together countless times, but neither of you had ever been this seriously injured.

You knew he was dying--as surely as if there was a neon sign screaming "death!" above his head. You couldn't stand the thought of losing him, so you made a decision that would change your life.

"Anyone who's listening, I need your help," you called out. "Please...I will do anything...just save him."

You waited in silence for a few moments, hoping against hope someone would hear your call and take pity on you. You weren't exactly on good terms with most angels, but you couldn't help but hope at least one of them would care.

You heard the soft flap of wings that always signaled the arrival of an angel and you looked up hopefully. You inhaled sharply when your eyes met the glowing red eyes of the man who had come to rescue you--or should you say, archangel.

"Well hello, (Y/N). It's nice to see you again."

"Lucifer," you hissed lowly.

"In the flesh!"

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard your call," he said simply. "And well, let's be honest, no one else is coming to help you."

"Did you come here to gloat?"

"Of course not. Even I'm not cruel enough to find joy in the death of Dean Winchester."

"Then why did you come?"

"To save him, obviously."

Surprise lit up your face. Out of all the responses you'd expected, that hadn't been on the list. "Pardon?"

Lucifer smiled darkly. "For a small fee, of course."

"Ahh," you acknowledged. "That sounds more like it. What do you want?"

"Nothing too extravagant."

"Lucifer..." you growled.

"As you can see, this vessel isn't doing so well." He gestured to himself and you had to admit, he looked like absolute shit. "In fact, it's dying...which means I'm in need of a new one."

"Absolutely not," you said instantly. "He would never say yes to you."

Lucifer smirked. "I wasn't referring to him."

Your eyes widened. "I'm not an archangel vessel," you whispered.

"No, but you are a vessel. And I think you're strong enough to contain me long enough to find me a better one."

You swallowed thickly. There was no way you were going to agree to this...you knew what being an archangel's vessel would do to you and you weren't exactly interested in being strapped to a nuclear bomb.

"No," you said firmly.

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug. "But just remember, Dean's death will be on your hands now."

You exhaled in defeat as you looked down at the man in your arms. You knew he was close to death--no hospital would be able to save him. Lucifer was your only option.

"Save him first," you whispered.

Lucifer smirked, knowing he'd won. "I would, (Y/N), but this vessel is simply too weak. I would need your body in order to save him."

You looked up into his dark eyes and considered his words. "I don't trust you."

"You would be a fool to trust me after all we've been through. However, I need you...and I need Dean alive and well to help me find an archangel vessel. Possessing you is a good motivator for him."

You clenched your jaw as you thought about your options. It took you mere moments to realize you didn't have any. You would rather die than allow Dean to...so your decision was made in an instant.

"Fine," you murmured softly. You looked up at the monster standing before you and exhaled slowly. "Yes," you breathed.

Lucifer wasted no time--immediately exiting his vessel and entering your body, taking over in an instant.

It was painful, feeling his energy within you, and you knew with absolute certainty you wouldn't be surviving this--no way in hell.

To your surprise, you were fully aware of everything happening around you. You could still see and hear--but you had no control over your body in any way.

Lucifer--you--reached out to Dean and touched him. Your palms began to glow and you watched the various wounds on his body heal quickly. His bright green eyes slowly blinked open and he looked up at you in surprise and confusion.

"What happened?" he groaned.

"You got tossed out a window," your voice said, though it was not you speaking.

Dean sat up and rubbed at his head. He looked down at himself, clearly surprised by his lack of serious injuries. "I fell three stories down..."

You nodded.

"How am I not dead?"

You felt your lips curl into a smile--a slightly cruel smile you knew was not your own. "You're welcome."

Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"

Unbeknownst to you, your eyes began to glow red, alerting Dean to the presence of someone else in your body--and there was only one creature you knew whose eyes glowed red.

"Lucifer?" Dean yelled angrily.

"The one and only," he replied.

"How the hell...why are you...where's (Y/N)?"

"Oh she's right here," he said with a smile, tapping the side of your head. "Watching and listening like a little creep."

"Well it is my head, you asshole," you mumbled.

"Doesn't mean it's not creepy," Lucifer's voice hissed inside your mind.

You didn't like the idea that Lucifer could hear your thoughts and speak to you like that...and it made you wonder what else he could see within your mind.

"Everything," he teased darkly.

"Fuck."

"Get the hell out of her body," Dean growled.

"Not a chance, buck-o. (Y/N) was kind enough to invite me in, so I think I'll stay a while."

Dean pulled an angel blade out of his back pocket and pointed it at you. You knew he would never use it if it meant killing you too. It was an idle threat and Lucifer knew it.

Lucifer simply laughed. "You're not going to use that, so put it away."

"Get out of her and I won't have to."

"Oh please, you won't kill her."

Dean's expression remained impassive, but you could see his resolve waning. You knew him too well to miss the small tells. Unfortunately, that meant Lucifer knew him just as well.

"Let's make this easy on ourselves," he began. "Everything (Y/N) knows, I know. Every memory, every thought, every feeling, everything. So put the damn blade down before I have to break your arm."

You could see the anger on Dean's face, but he lowered the blade and slipped it back inside his jacket. "Why the hell did she invite you in?"

"You were about 5 minutes from death and she couldn't save you."

"So what, she called out to you?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"She called out to everyone...I'm just the only one who responded." You felt your eyes glance around in slight concern. "Speaking of, we should probably get out of here, just in case."

Dean nodded and lead the way to the Impala, which was parked a short distance away. You got into the passenger seat like usual and you saw Dean tense up at your proximity. He clearly didn't like the idea of the Devil riding shotgun.

"So why did you heal me?"

"I need your help," Lucifer admitted.

"What makes you think I'd ever help you?"

"I knew you wouldn't, which is why I convinced (Y/N) to let me have her body for a little while."

"Convinced?"

"I may have told her a little white lie--that my old vessel was too weak for me to save you. She didn't exactly offer herself up, but she didn't fight very hard when she realized I was her only option."

"You slimy son of a bitch," you growled.

"I'm the devil, (Y/N). What did you expect?"

"You son of a bitch," Dean mumbled, echoing your sentiments. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"I need to find an actual archangel vessel. I'm getting tired of jumping from vessel to vessel...they keep burning out. It's rather tiresome."

"Well you're not touching Sam, or me for that matter."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he insisted. "I know there are others out there, but I need someone with your connections to help me locate one."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "My connections?"

"Well, Bobby Singer's connections, really...but the best way to him is through you, and the best way to you is through her."

Dean exhaled angrily. You knew he was mad at you just as much as he was mad at Lucifer. You were surprised he hadn't given you an earful yet, even with Lucifer listening in.

"Fine," Dean grumbled. "But the moment we find you a vessel, I want you out of her body. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," Lucifer answered.

"Now just sit there quietly until we get to Bobby's, understand? I want absolute silence."

"Well that's boring--"

"I can't stand hearing you speak with her voice, okay? So shut up."

Lucifer smirked, but fell silent, deciding instead to annoy you.

"He's mad at you, isn't he?"

"I said yes to you...of course he's mad."

"Does he know?"

"Know what?"

"How you feel about him?"

"I would really like you to shut the hell up now, Lucifer," you hissed.

"But I'm so bored," he whined.

"I don't give a damn and neither does Dean. It's about 2 hours to Bobby's place...can you be silent for 2 hours?"

"Fine," he grumbled. "It'll give me more time to dig around in your brain anyway..."

"Shit--no!"

You tried to shut him out of your mind as best as you could, but you could still feel him rooting around in your head...making himself at home and digging into memories and thoughts and feelings that were never meant to be shared with another soul.

**********

"What an unsightly place," Lucifer grumbled as he--you--followed Dean up the stairs to Bobby's door.

Dean shot an annoyed glare in your direction, but didn't comment.

"Bobby!" he called as he entered the house.

Bobby came into view and offered you both a tired smile. "Hey you two. What brings you to Sioux Falls?"

"We were close by on a hunt and now we need your help," Dean answered.

"Sure. Come on in."

Neither you, nor Lucifer, had said a word of greeting to Bobby, which struck the older man as odd.

"You alright, (Y/N)?"

"Oh I'm just peachy," your voice answered.

Bobby's eyes narrowed at you, immediately noticing your voice was off. Besides, you didn't tend to talk to Bobby like that.

Before Bobby could question you, Dean spoke up. "We need to find an archangel vessel...as fast as possible."

Bobby stared at him for a moment. "Dean, you are an archangel vessel."

"Yeah, well I need one to house the devil--and it ain't gonna be me or Sam."

"Why the hell do you need a vessel for Lucifer?"

Your hand reached out and tapped Bobby on the shoulder. Judging by Bobby's shocked expression, you assumed your eyes were once again glowing red. Bobby quickly took a step back, looking between you and Dean in confusion.

"It's a long story," Dean muttered. "But I don't want him riding shotgun in (Y/N)'s head any longer than necessary, so we need to find him another vessel."

"Preferably before this current one starts to rot from the inside out," Lucifer added.

"Seriously, Lucifer?"

"Well that is essentially what happens, you know. I wouldn't want to damage such a pretty face."

"Oh fuck off," you grumbled.

"Why in god's name would she say yes to you?" Bobby asked angrily.

"To save my life, okay?" Dean snapped. "Look--we don't have time for this. I need your help to find another vessel. Please."

Bobby sighed and crossed the room to his desk, which was covered in books and papers--an organizational system only Bobby understood. He eyed you warily, but he didn't comment on the situation further.

"I assume you know how to find an archangel vessel," Lucifer commented.

"Perhaps you could enlighten me," Bobby responded.

Lucifer sighed and began to tell Bobby what he needed to look for. You ignored the words coming from our own mouth, instead focusing on Dean. You could see how upset he was and it made you feel incredibly foolish. You hated seeing him like this, but you didn't regret your decision. The mere fact he was alive to be angry made this whole thing worth it.

"How long do you think it'll take?" Dean asked, interrupting your thoughts.

"A week or two--maybe a little more," Bobby answered.

Dean looked in your direction, eyeing you with concern. "Will (Y/N) last that long?"

"Might wanna keep it closer to two weeks," Lucifer replied.

"You're lying, aren't you?" you asked quietly.

"Do you want me to tell them the truth?"

You sighed internally. "I think Dean deserves to know."

"A week would be even better," Lucifer said aloud.

Dean stared at you, worry deepening the lines on his face. His gaze traced your face, searching for any signs of deception--or maybe signs of damage.

"Well then," Bobby muttered. "Better get started."

**********

You sat in the corner, feet up on another chair as you watched Dean and Bobby. You could tell both of them were extremely worried, but their focus was on finding another vessel. They didn't have time to dive into their fears for your life.

Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed to think he had all the time in the world. He was quite happy to torture you instead of providing the two hunters with any assistance.

"Why haven't you told Dean?" he asked for what had to be the 1,000th time.

"There's nothing to tell, Lucifer. Would you just back off?"

"You're really no fun, you know that?"

"Good. This isn't supposed to be fun for you."

"I can make it fun."

"I'd really rather you not."

"Too late!" he said gleefully.

You could feel him poking around inside your head again, searching for something he could use to hurt you with--or hurt Dean with. You tried to keep him away from your darkest secrets, from the things you'd never shared with another soul, not even Dean. But you noticed it was getting harder and harder to resist him. You weren't sure if it was because he was so strong or if you were becoming weaker. Either way, it was only a matter of time before Lucifer found something he shouldn't.

Unfortunately for you, that moment came much sooner than you'd anticipated.

"(Y/N)--fuck, I mean Lucifer...can I talk to you outside for a moment?" Dean asked suddenly, rising from his chair and heading outside without waiting for a reply.

"Well this should be fun," you mumbled internally.

"I assure you," Lucifer mocked. "It will be."

You felt your body moving, feet heading after Dean whether you wanted to or not.

Once outside, Dean turned to face you, eyes filled with a multitude of emotions you couldn't stand to see. "I want to talk to (Y/N)."

"Oh come now," Lucifer said. "You know that's not how it works."

"I know you can shut up and take a backseat. So that's what I want."

"Hmm..." Lucifer hummed thoughtfully. "You know, I'd rather not. Besides, (Y/N) doesn't really feel like talking to you right now."

"Fuck you, Lucifer. Let me talk to him!"

"Sorry, sweetheart. Ain't happening."

"Somehow I doubt that," Dean grumbled angrily.

"You can doubt it all you want, but I'm the one physically inside her head. I know what she's thinking and let me tell you, it's not very complimentary of you."

"What?" Dean asked in surprised confusion.

"You have no idea what she really thinks of you, do you?"

"Lucifer, what the hell are you doing?" you growled.

He ignored you, instead focusing on his conversation with Dean.

"She's my best friend," Dean responded. "What more do I need to know?"

Lucifer laughed cruelly. "I'm sorry, that's just too funny. You think she's your best friend?"

You could see the look of hurt cross Dean's face for a moment, but he quickly covered it up.

"Sorry," Lucifer said, laughter subsiding. "It's just hilarious that you think she cares about you that much."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"She's tired of you, Dean. She's tired of your stubbornness, your self-loathing, your reckless behavior. She's tired of everything to do with you. She doesn't care about you--not really, anyway. You annoy the shit out of her, but she puts up with you because she feels like she has to."

You fought with everything you had to overpower Lucifer and take control of your mind and body. Not a single word Lucifer was uttering was true and you desperately wanted to tell Dean the truth.

"Stop fighting, (Y/N). You can't win," Lucifer whispered.

"Stop lying to him and I'll stop fighting," you insisted.

"No. I'm simply having too much fun."

Dean's face was impassive to the average person, but you saw through the mask on his face, and so did Lucifer. "I don't believe you," Dean said softly.

"You don't have to believe me. They're not my words. I'm simply relaying (Y/N)'s thoughts," Lucifer said with a shrug. "Haven't you ever wondered how she puts up with all your shit? You're not exactly walking sunshine, Dean. You're one of the most damaged humans I've ever met."

Dean inhaled deeply. "If she hates me so much, why does she stay?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Neither you nor Dean knew what Lucifer was going to say next...and his words cut deeper than you'd expected them to.

"She's in love with your brother," Lucifer sneered.

"Lucifer, no!" you screamed.

Dean's eyes widened and shock settled onto his face. He turned around, his back to you in an attempt to collect himself.

You fought even harder...you needed to get this son of a bitch out of your body. It felt like you were locked inside your own mind with no way out. Lucifer was too strong and the harder you fought, the weaker you became. You quickly realized the more energy you expended, the stronger he became...there was no use in fighting him.

"You're a monster," you whispered.

"They call me the devil for a reason.'"

You didn't bother responding to him. Your heart was aching for Dean and all you wanted was to comfort him. You knew exactly where his head would be at right now and it was killing you.

He'd always compared himself to Sam--at least as long as you'd known him. He seemed to think Sam was better than him in a lot of ways and certainly more lovable. The mere idea that you agreed with that sentiment...that you loved Sam...it would break him and you knew it.

"Sam is better than you in every way," Lucifer added, stoking the fire. "Why would anyone love you when they could have Sam? He's everything you're not...sure of himself, confident, open and honest. Sam is better for (Y/N) than you could ever be."

Dean turned back around, face a mask of impassiveness once again. "Let's find you a vessel so you can get the hell out of our lives," he said in a low voice. "Besides, I wouldn't want to get in the way of Sam and (Y/N)'s love."

If you'd been capable of crying, you knew the tears would be streaming down your face in that moment. Your heart ached in a way you were unfamiliar with and you hoped Lucifer could feel the pain the same way you did.

"Why?" you whispered.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you say that to him?"

Lucifer laughed. "Simple...I knew it would hurt both of you. You're in love with him and if his reaction was anything to go by, it looks like he feels the same."

"We're both helping you right now. Why can't you just be grateful for 10 fucking minutes?" you hissed.

"Where's the fun in that?"

You knew the question was rhetorical, so you didn't bother responding. Instead, you quietly watched Dean walk away and you knew he was going to lose his shit. You could feel it as clearly as your own emotions.

"Let's follow him," Lucifer said happily.

"Let him take his anger out without an audience," you snapped.

Lucifer ignored you and quietly followed after Dean, keeping a distance to avoid being noticed.

Once Dean was farther away from the house and seemingly alone, he grabbed a crowbar from a nearby bench and began to beat the ever-loving-shit out of a junker car.

If you'd wondered about Dean's feelings for you before (and you had), you didn't wonder anymore. It was clear he cared about you in the same way you cared about him and you hated seeing him in such pain.

You wanted nothing more than to go to him, but Lucifer was much happier standing to the side and watching Dean suffer alone.

"Please," you whispered.

"You can tell him I'm a lying bastard if you manage to survive this."

"You and I both know that's not likely," you sighed quietly. "I don't want him to suffer and I don't want to die with him thinking I hate him."

"Pity. Guess you should have told him sooner..."

"Oh fuck off, Lucifer," you growled.

Lucifer's laughter echoed in your head and you hated him in that moment more than you could even begin to express.

**********

"You alright kid?" Bobby asked Dean when he returned to the house an hour or so later.

Lucifer, and therefore you, had returned shortly after watching Dean fall apart. When he'd dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, Lucifer had gotten bored and left.

"I'm fine," Dean lied. "Do you have any leads?"

"I've put out my feelers to every person I could think of. I'm sure someone will have something for me soon."

"Did you call Sam?"

Bobby shook his head. "I assumed you did."

"Call him and let him know what's going on. I'm going out."

"Where are you going?"

"Yeah, Dean," Lucifer chimed in, "where are you going?"

"The nearest bar. Don't wait up."

You tried to say his name, but your mouth refused to form the word.

As soon as Dean was out of earshot, Bobby turned his attention to you. "What the hell did you say to him?"

"Me?" Lucifer asked, feigning innocence. "Why would you think I did something?"

"Maybe because you're the devil?" Bobby answered sarcastically.

Lucifer smirked darkly. "I may have poked at all of his insecurities."

Bobby groaned. "You're a son of a bitch, you know that?"

"That's not a nice thing to say about my Father."

Bobby just glared at you and rolled his eyes. He got up and left the room and you assumed he was going to call Sam.

"I second Bobby's comment."

"I wear it like a badge of honor."

You knew exactly what Dean was going to do and it was killing you. He was going to drink until he couldn't feel a thing, pick up some random girl, and fuck her senseless--anything to feel something other than the ache in his chest. You knew him better than he knew himself...but in this moment, you desperately wished you didn't. You would give anything to not know what he was going to do.

**********

Three days later, one of Bobby's sources had a lead on a potential archangel vessel.

Dean hadn't spoken to you or Lucifer unless he absolutely had to. It was too hard to even look at your face and hearing your voice was a thousand times worse.

Sam was still out on a hunt with Garth, but he promised to be there to help as soon as he could.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Bobby asked Dean as the two of you were preparing to leave.

"The less people involved, the better. Stay here in case we need more intel," Dean responded.

"I don't like the idea of you traveling alone with Lucifer."

"I'll be fine."

Bobby didn't believe him anymore than you did, but neither of you commented on it--not that you could have if you'd wanted to.

As you/Lucifer and Dean climbed into the Impala, Dean didn't spare a glance in your direction.

"Isn't this fun?" Lucifer asked. "I've always wanted to go on a roadtrip."

Dean groaned. "What are the chances you'll be quiet during this drive?"

"Slim to none," Lucifer said with a smirk.

The response almost made Dean smile. It sounded like something you would say and technically it was your voice. He had to remind himself you weren't really talking to him--every word out of your mouth was Lucifer.

Dean took off without another word and you silently prayed this lead would pan out. You were extremely tired and it had only been about four days since Lucifer had possessed you.

By this point, you were having a hard time focusing on what was happening in the real world. You were in pain and you could feel your body weakening...you were dying and you knew it. You just hoped Dean didn't notice.

**********

By the time the three of you arrived at your destination, you were feeling terrible. You weren't even sure how much time had passed since you'd left Bobby's. In fact, you were pretty sure you'd fallen asleep very early on.

"It's been about 12 hours," Lucifer told you.

"I slept for 12 hours?"

"You're dying," he said nonchalantly. "So you're going to have a harder time staying awake."

"Great," you whispered sarcastically.

"Lucifer!" Dean growled. "You coming?"

"Of course."

Lucifer followed Dean into a building you assumed was an apartment complex. Sometime during the elevator ride, you must have fallen unconscious again, because when you opened your eyes again, you found yourself standing in a nice apartment.

Dean was talking calmly to a young man who looked moderately terrified.

"Is he the vessel?" you mumbled.

"Yes. I can feel it," Lucifer responded.

"Thank god..."

"I'm sorry, you want me to allow the literal devil to possess me?" the young man practically yelled at Dean. "That's assuming I even believe in the devil."

"Look man," Dean said with surprising calmness. "I know I sound insane, but it's all real. We need an archangel vessel and like it or not, that's you."

"What if I don't want to say yes?"

Dean grabbed him by his collar. "Then the woman he's currently wearing will die...and I will do anything to prevent that." His voice was low, barely above a growl.

The young man looked terrified, eyes wide with fear. "Are you threatening me?" he whispered.

Dean straightened out the guy's shirt and gave him a dark smile. "Of course not."

"So I have a choice?"

Lucifer chuckled. "Don't think for a moment he'll give you an option, kid."

The guy looked at you and you felt terrible for him. You understood his fear and apprehension...and it felt wrong to force Lucifer onto him. This kid didn't deserve it.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you mumbled.

"Too late, (Y/N). Dean knows he's an archangel vessel. There's no way he's going to leave without getting him to say yes."

You wanted to respond--to fight, but you couldn't. You were too weak...too tired. Everything hurt too much.

"What's it like?" the guy asked softly.

"Like being strapped to a rocket," Lucifer said snidely.

Dean shot him an annoyed glance. "You'll be fine. You were meant for this."

The guy's gaze remained fixated on you. "She looks like shit...am I going to look like that?"

Dean finally focused his gaze on your face and you saw the fear flash in his eyes. He could see you were dying. Your skin was pale, your eyes bloodshot, dark circles adorning them...your lips were cracked and there were slight lacerations appearing around your forehead and jawline.

"She wasn't meant to house the power of an archangel," Lucifer responded. "She's dying, but the same won't happen to you."

"Will she be okay if I say yes?"

"Yes," Lucifer lied smoothly.

The guy looked like he was contemplating what to do, so Dean spoke up again.

"Look, kid. She's important to me...more important to me than pretty much anyone else in this fucked up world. I would do anything to save her...she's--she's my brother's girl."

You wanted to tell him that wasn't true, but you knew it was fruitless to even try. Even still, your heart ached at his words.

"How long?" the guy asked, directing his question at Lucifer.

"As long as I want. You'll never age, never die, as long as I'm with you."

The guy nodded. "Alright. I'll do it." He stood up. "What do I need to do?"

"Just say 'yes'," Lucifer answered.

"Yes."

A bright white light filled the room and Dean had to shield his eyes. When the light faded, you were lying on the floor and Lucifer was now clearly possessing the young man they'd come to find.

"(Y/N)!" Dean yelled as he raced to your side.

Your pulse was faint and you looked even worse than you had moments before.

"Heal her," Dean demanded.

Lucifer's lips curled up in a cruel smile. "No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no," he repeated. "I'm not interested in saving her."

"You wouldn't have a vessel without us. You owe her!"

"I'm the devil, Dean. What makes you think I give a damn about debts?"

Dean stared at him, anger and terror fighting for control in equal measure. He stood up and went to lunge at Lucifer, but the archangel simply disappeared, leaving you and Dean completely helpless and alone.

**********

Dean had rushed you to the hospital and was currently sitting in the waiting room, hoping to hear something about your condition.

Sam rushed into the room, eyes scanning for his brother. When he saw him, Sam crossed the distance and wrapped Dean in a tight hug.

"How is she?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Dean said quietly. "But it doesn't look good."

"She's strong, Dean."

"I don't think that matters...her body was never meant to house an archangel and she managed to do it for almost a week. She's dying, Sammy."

Sam's eyes filled with tears, but he blinked rapidly to keep them from falling.

Dean's heart ached, seeing his brother look so upset. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel a broken emptiness in his soul--a space you used to occupy. But he needed to push past his own pain for his brother's sake. After all...you weren't his.

"For (Y/N)?" a doctor called into the waiting room.

Dean and Sam practically ran in her direction. Dean's heart clenched in his chest as he took in the doctor's sad expression.

"Are you (Y/N)'s family?"

Both men nodded.

"Come with me, please," the doctor said quietly.

They followed her to a private waiting area and Dean's dread increased significantly. "What's going on?" he asked worriedly.

"Please have a seat," the doctor asked, gesturing toward the chairs against the wall. She closed the door before taking her seat across from them.

"My name's Dr. Murphy. I'm (Y/N)'s treating physician."

"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean."

"There's no easy way to say this," Dr. Murphy said gently. "(Y/N)'s injuries are quite severe and she's in critical condition."

"But she's going to be okay, right?" Dean asked hopefully.

Dr. Murphy frowned and shook her head. "Her organs have begun to shut down...it's only a matter of time now. The best I can do is try to keep her comfortable."

"No," Dean whispered. "No, she can't--"

Sam placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, trying to comfort his brother.

"I'm very sorry," Dr. Murphy murmured.

Dean suddenly stood up. "I can't do this. I need--I need air."

He practically ran from the room and Sam got up to follow him, but Dr. Murphy placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I think it's best to give him a moment."

Sam nodded as he desperately tried to push his own emotions away. He adored you, but he knew exactly how much Dean loved you...so he knew how much pain his brother was in right now. It hurt him almost as much as losing you.

***********

Once Dean was outside, he ran around to the side of the building, desperate to be alone for a moment. He collapsed onto the ground, back against the hard stone of the hospital exterior. All of the tears he'd been pushing back for days finally poured out.

He found himself falling apart in public--something he couldn't recall doing before. He couldn't bring himself to care. You were dying and it was killing him. It was all his fault. If he hadn't been so careless, he wouldn't have gotten injured and you never would have had to beg Lucifer to save him.

He knew it wasn't a rational way of thinking, but in that moment, it didn't matter. You were about to become just another name on a never ending list of people who died because of him. He couldn't take it--it was too much.

"I know I'm not exactly on good terms with any of you and I probably don't deserve your help, but I'm not asking for myself. (Y/N) is dying and I can't save her. I'm not normally the kind of man to beg, but I'm on my knees right now...begging for just one of you to find it in yourself to give a damn. She doesn't deserve this. She's the best person I've ever known...so please. Please someone answer me. Please..." His voice was broken by the end of his short speech.

He was desperate and there was nothing he wouldn't do to save her. If no angel would help him...he wasn't above making a deal with a demon. He'd been to hell once before, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant you could live.

"Hello, Dean Winchester," a soft female voice said from beside him.

He jumped up quickly, ready to fight if need be. He hadn't even heard the woman arrive, which meant she likely wasn't human.

"Don't worry," she said gently. "I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Aliraphael."

"Aliraphael?" Dean repeated. "I've never heard of you."

She smiled. "You don't need to know my name to know what I am."

Dean swallowed thickly. "Why did you come?"

"You prayed for help. I answered."

"But why? We don't know you...what would make you wanna help us?"

Aliraphael smiled. "You, your brother, and (Y/N) have sacrificed much for this world and all of the people in it. I think you deserve a miracle."

Normally Dean wouldn't believe her, but there was something in her eyes that made him feel safe. He was inclined to trust her, but he had to be sure. "What do you want in return?"

"Nothing. This is my gift to you."

"Nothing is free."

"I understand why you may be jaded, but sometimes a gift is simply a gift. This is one of those times."

Dean nodded. "I'm choosing to trust you, but just know if you betray me, I will kill you."

She smiled. "I would expect nothing less of the great Dean Winchester."

Dean led Aliraphael into the hospital and his eyes scanned the waiting area for Sam. He wasn't there, so Dean assumed he'd gone to your room.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me what room (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is in?" Dean asked the receptionist.

The woman typed on her computer without looking up and muttered, "Room 212."

"Thanks," Dean replied. He tried to walk slowly--normally--to room 212, but every instinct in his body was screaming for him to get to you as quickly as possible.

When Dean entered the room, he saw Sam standing beside your bed, his hand wrapped tightly around yours. He was speaking softly to you and Dean felt that ache in his chest intensify.

"Sam," Dean said softly.

Sam turned towards the door, eyes red from his tears. He looked between Dean and Aliraphael in confusion. "Who's she?"

"I am Aliraphael," the angel responded. "I am here to heal (Y/N)."

Sam cut Dean a look. "What did you do?"

Dean shrugged. "I prayed. She came."

"Okay, but what did you promise her in exchange?"

"Your brother has promised me nothing. I am doing this because I wish to. I have no ulterior motive."

Sam still looked worried, but he stepped back to allow Aliraphael access to your bed. Aliraphael gently placed her hand against your forehead and closed her eyes. A soft white glow began to envelop your body and your skin began to return to normal.

After several moments, Aliraphael dropped her hand from your head and turned to Sam and Dean. "It is finished."

You started to stir in the bed and Dean's heart beat faster.

"She will awaken in a moment," Aliraphael assured them.

"Thank you," Dean whispered, unable to take his eyes off your face.

Sam echoed his brother's statement and Aliraphael smiled.

"You are all very welcome." With that, the angel disappeared as if she had never been there.

You groaned softly and your eyes slowly opened. You blinked rapidly trying to clear them and focus on the room around you.

"I have to go," Dean muttered.

"What?" Sam asked in surprise, but Dean had already exited the room.

"Sam?" you asked softly, hearing the younger Winchester's voice.

"Hey, (Y/N/N)," he murmured. "I'm here."

Your bright (y/e/c) eyes focused on his face. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

You thought about it for a moment and the memories of the past few days came flooding back. "Lucifer..." you whispered.

Sam sighed and nodded. "Yeah."

"I was dying, Sam--I felt it. Why am I not dead?"

"Dean prayed...and some angel we'd never met before came to save you."

Your eyes widened. "Dean...where is he? I need to talk to him."

"He was just here, but when you started to wake up, he bolted."

"Shit," you murmured. "We need to go after him."

You started to sit up and tug at the IV in your arm, but Sam stopped you.

"Woah! Woah! Slow down, (Y/N). You were almost dead not even five minutes ago."

"And now I'm not, so we need to get the hell out of here Sam," you insisted.

Sam sighed. He knew better than to fight you, so he simply helped you remove your IV and untangle you from the web of other tubes and wires. He handed you your clothes and turned around so you could get dressed in privacy.

"Alright, let's go," you said as soon as you were dressed.

*********

When Dean left the hospital, he'd taken the Impala and started the long drive back to Lawrence. He just wanted to get home before you and figure out what his next move was. If you and Sam were going to be together...he didn't want to be there to witness it. He couldn't.

Dean's phone had rang several times, but he hadn't answered. Most of the calls were from you and a few were from Sam, but he couldn't handle hearing your voice right now. Especially if you were going to tell him everything Lucifer had said was true.

"He's still not answering his damn phone," you muttered, throwing the phone onto the dash angrily.

"I just don't get why he'd leave like that," Sam said for the fifth time.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. "Lucifer said some things to him, Sam...things that hurt him deeply. None of it was true, but Dean doesn't know that."

"What kind of things?"

"Things about me...about how I feel. And about you," you admitted quietly.

"(Y/N), just tell me."

"Lucifer told Dean I couldn't stand him and the only reason I hung around was because I'm in love with you."

Sam scoffed. "And Dean believed him?"

"You didn't see his face, Sam...he believed every word. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I couldn't overpower Lucifer."

"Shit," Sam mumbled. "He's a goddamn idiot if he thinks you love me more than him."

You laughed dryly. "Lucifer played on Dean's insecurities and unfortunately, it worked."

Sam sighed. "Where do you think he'd go?"

"I have to hope he went home."

"Then let's get there before he does." Sam sped up, flooring the stolen car like he'd--well, like he'd stolen it.

You were about five hours from Lawrence and Dean had a head start. You knew it was unlikely you'd get there first, but you had to hope you could get there before he left.

**********

When Sam pulled into the Bunker's garage four and a half hours later, you were relieved to see the Impala parked where it should be. Dean would never leave without his beloved car, which meant he was still there.

Both you and Sam practically ran into the Bunker, calling Dean's name.

The green eyed hunter heard your voices, but he ignored both you and Sam. He couldn't face you...he just couldn't.

"Dean? Where are you?" you called again.

"Come on, Dean. We know you're here," Sam said in annoyance.

You headed into the kitchen and Sam went down towards Dean's bedroom. Both of you hoped to find him before he managed to sneak his way out.

Sam entered his brother's room without knocking and sighed in relief. "Dean. There you are."

"Sam," he said curtly.

"Why the hell did you leave? And why didn't you answer our calls?"

"I just needed to get out of there."

"What, before (Y/N) woke up?" Sam's tone made it clear exactly how stupid he thought his brother's actions were.

"Look man, I'm glad she's okay, but I can't face her. I don't want to have that conversation."

Sam decided to play dumb. "What conversation, Dean? The one where she thanks you for saving her life? Or where you yell at her for saying yes to Lucifer in the first place? Cuz trust me, we had that conversation already."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Sam," Dean said quietly as he started to pack his duffle. "But it doesn't matter. I'm leaving."

"Why the hell are you leaving?"

"I can't stay here. I can't--I can't see the two of you together," he whispered.

"Together?" Sam asked incredulously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's fine, Sam. I know."

"There's nothing to know!"

Dean glared at his brother and shook his head. "I saw you at the hospital...you clearly feel the same as she does."

"Yeah I do!" Sam yelled. "She's my friend--she's family!"

Dean was about to snap back another retort, but Sam cut him off.

"Just talk to (Y/N), Dean. Let her explain...you owe her that much."

"I don't want to talk to her."

"I'm not going to give you a choice," you said from the bedroom doorway.

Both men turned to look at you in surprise. You crossed your arms and stood firm.

"I don't want to talk," Dean said quietly.

"Good. I don't want you to talk, Dean. I want you to listen." You turned your gaze to Sam and gestured with your head for him to leave the room.

He gladly exited, not wanting to be a part of this particular conversation.

You closed the door behind him and continued to stand in front of it, afraid Dean would try to leave if you moved.

"Lucifer is a liar, Dean. I shouldn't even have to say that. He's the devil, for crying out loud. He's kinda known for his lies."

"But he's also been honest with us before," Dean countered.

"Only when it benefited him. Just like he lies when it benefits him. Hurting you? Hurting me? That shit brought him joy."

"Really? Did it hurt you to hear him tell me how you really feel about me?"

"No," you said angrily. "It hurt me to hear him lie to you about how I feel! The things he said were cruel and terrible, but more importantly, they weren't true!"

Dean stared at you silently, clearly not believing a word you said.

"Do you really think I'm capable of lying to you for years? Think of every moment we've spent together, Dean...do you really think I pretended to care about you? Pretended to enjoy spending time with you? Think about all the times we've laughed together, the times we've had each other's backs, the small glances, the whispers in the dark when one of us had a nightmare. Think about all of those moments and then look me in the eye and tell me it was all a lie."

Tears filled his beautiful green eyes and you knew the same expression was reflected in your own. You took a step towards him, desperately wanting to touch him, but afraid it be unwelcome.

"You're my favorite person in the world, Dean Winchester. You. Not Sam, not Bobby, not Jodi...you. You hold my whole heart in your hands...you always have. If you don't want it, then I understand, but don't for a second think I love anyone but you."

His lips parted in surprise. "But what about Sam?" he whispered.

You sighed loudly. "Weren't you listening? Sam is my friend, Dean, but nothing more than that. I love him like a brother." You took another step towards him. "He doesn't compare to you--he couldn't compare to you. I love you, Dean...and I don't mean like a brother."

Dean inhaled deeply. "I want to believe you, (Y/N/N)..."

"Then believe me," you begged him. "I love you."

Dean thought about what Lucifer had said and he realized why he'd believed it so easily. They were all things Dean was afraid of...he knew he wasn't good enough for you and he was terrified you knew it too.

"Talk to me, Dean," you whispered, taking a final step towards him.

He looked deep into your eyes and found nothing but love there. The same love he held in his soul for you. "I've always been afraid to tell you how I feel because I know I'm not good enough for you," he admitted. "That's why it was so easy for me to believe Lucifer's lies...it was almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy. I couldn't believe you'd ever want me, so it was easier to believe you wanted Sam. He's better for you in every way."

"Stop," you whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. "I decide who is best for me and I choose you. I will always choose you."

"(Y/N)," he whispered.

You pressed your lips against his, trying to infuse it with all of the love in your soul. Dean's arms wrapped around your thick waist, pulling you closer to him. He deepened the kiss, lips hungrily devouring yours.

You stayed locked in each other's embrace for what felt like an eternity. Your tongues fought for dominance and your hands caressed any part of each other they could reach.

When the kiss inevitably broke so the two of you could breathe, Dean laid his forehead against yours. "This might go without saying, but I love you too, (Y/N). So goddamn much."

You chuckled breathlessly. "After a kiss like that, I'd sure as hell hope so."

He grinned and tugged you even closer to him. His lips pressed against yours again and he found himself wanting to feel every part of your soft body. He needed it, just as much as needed air to breathe.

"Let me show you how much, baby," he whispered against your lips.

"Please," you moaned softly.

“Strip for me, pretty girl,” he commanded.

You gently pushed against his chest, forcing him back against the bed. He dropped down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving your body.

You slowly began to remove your clothing, taking much longer than you needed to. You were teasing him and he was eating it up.

You finally got down to just your bra and panties, nothing fancy as you obviously weren’t planning on this happening, but Dean didn’t seem to care. In fact, you were about to be very glad you didn’t wear anything nice.

“You are so damn beautiful, baby,” he whispered.

You offered him a warm smile, appreciative of the affection in his gaze. He thought you were a goddess among humans, a treasure to behold.

“I think you’re a bit overdressed, Dean,” you teased softly.

“You know, babe, I think you’re right.” He stood up and shed his layers significantly faster than you had. He was extremely impatient, as he was dying to get his hands on you.

You admired his broad chest, thick arms, and sculpted form. He looked incredible, scars and all. You felt the strong urge to kiss every single one of them, if he would allow you.

He now stood before you in nothing but his boxers, his large erection straining against the thin fabric.

“Let’s get this off you,” he muttered, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra.

The moment your breasts were exposed to his gaze, he let out a low groan. “Fuck, baby. These are even better than I’d imagined.”

“You imagined my—“ your question was cut off by the feeling of his lips wrapped around your nipple and his hands caressing your breasts gently.

The gentle movements quickly turned more intense, and he began to truly knead and nip at your flesh. You moaned softly and gently ran your fingers through his soft hair.

You pressed yourself even closer to him, feeling his bulge press against your abdomen. He lifted his head with a small smirk.

“Impatient, are we?”

You nodded quickly.

“Oh come on now, sweetheart. Use those words for me. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you whimpered. “I want you.”

His smirk widened. “I figured that much out on my own, darlin'. I want you to tell me what you need.”

You weren’t exactly accustomed to expressing yourself verbally in the bedroom. To be honest, a lot of your past experiences weren’t that great anyway. A lot of one night stands with men who only cared about their own pleasure.

You found yourself feeling kind of excited at the prospect of a man listening to you and what you wanted…even more so because that man was Dean.

“I want you on your knees, handsome,” you said firmly.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly, but he dropped to his knees obediently. His normally bright green eyes were dark with lust as he locked eyes with you.

You loved the powerful feeling you had as you stood over him. The great Dean Winchester, on his knees for you.

You touched his face sweetly and he leaned into your palm, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Do you wanna eat my pussy, Dean?” you whispered.

His eyes shot back open, a hungry expression on his face. “Yes,” he breathed lowly.

“Then get to work,” you commanded softly.

Dean was used to being in charge in the bedroom and it wasn’t often he found himself submitting to a woman. You were different than any woman he’d ever been with before—after all, he loved you. If you told him to do a damn handstand naked, lick your feet, and call you “your majesty”, he would have done it in a heartbeat.

His calloused hands slowly slid up your thighs, squeezing the supple flesh. His mouth followed, leaving sloppy kisses as he worked his way closer to your core.

“Baby?” he asked softly, glancing up at you.

“Hmm?”

“Do you have any particular attachment to these panties?”

“No, why—Dean!” you gasped as he ripped your underwear in half, tossing the remains to the floor.

He grinned and made a happy little noise deep in his throat before kissing your mound. He grabbed your right leg and tugged it up over his shoulder, giving him better access to you.

“Lean on me for support, beautiful. I got you.”

The moment you laid a hand on his shoulder and he was sure you were stable, he dove into your pussy with a deep growl.

Your head fell back in ecstasy and a series of moans left your lips. The hand not holding onto his shoulder immediately wound itself in his hair, holding on for dear life.

“Dean—feels so good,” you moaned.

His hands dug into your ass cheeks in response, tugging you even closer to him. He never wanted to stop—hearing those sweet sounds you made mixed with the heady taste of your sweetness was more intoxicating than any drink he’d ever had.

Your legs had begun to tremble and Dean’s grip on you tightened. He wasn’t willing to stop his ministrations, but he wouldn’t let you fall either.

Your nails scraped against his scalp and his shoulder as you clung to him. The pleasure was almost too much and not enough all at once, and you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Dean,” you gasped. “I’m so close.”

He smiled against your core and shifted his focus more heavily to your clit. You cried out and cursed softly, and he knew he’d made the right move.

“I—oh god,” you cried as your orgasm washed over you.

Dean lapped up everything you had to offer, his grip on your body never loosening. As you began to come down from your high, he slipped his hands up to your hips to ensure he didn’t drop you.

He gave your pussy one last lick before allowing you to pull him up by his hair. To his surprise, you mashed your lips against his hungrily, not giving a damn that he tasted like you.

One hand tangled into your hair and the other held you tightly. “What do you want me to do now, sweetheart?” He murmured against your skin.

“Take control, Dean,” you begged. “Make my legs shake. Make me scream. I don’t wanna be able to move for hours.”

“Holy fuck,” he groaned. “Who taught you to talk like that, baby?”

You smirked. “It comes naturally with you.”

"Well it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard," he murmured.

His strong arms wrapped around your waist and gripped you tightly. He spun you both around so your back was to the bed. He pulled you up into his arms and tossed you onto the bed.

You gasped in surprise, not used to being manhandled in such a manner. You sat up slightly, resting on your elbows as you looked at the gorgeous man in front of you. You curled one finger and beckoned him towards you with a smirk.

He quickly discarded his boxers and dropped onto the bed, crawling slowly up your body. He dropped kisses onto your skin as he moved, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

When he reached your mouth, you reached up and grabbed the hair at the base of his neck, tugging him down to you. Your kiss was hungry and needy, leaving no question as to what you wanted.

As the kiss deepened, Dean shifted his body to touch your soft curves. In doing so, the tip of his cock brushed against your pussy, eliciting soft moans from both of you.

Dean's hands traced softly up and down your sides, relishing the feeling of your skin against his. "I love touching you," he murmured in your ear. "You're so damn soft."

You smiled and turned your head to nip at his jaw. He groaned and turned his attention back to your soft lips, sucking the bottom one between his teeth and biting down gently.

Much like Dean, you loved touching his body, but you reveled in the firmness of his body beneath your hands. Every time he moved, you could feel his muscles tense and shift. His body was powerful and beautiful--a vessel carrying the most incredible soul you'd ever known.

Dean shifted again, nudging your head to the side so he could suck at your neck, leaving love marks on the sensitive skin. You lifted your hips up slightly, seeking some kind of friction to relieve the ache between your legs. Once again, his cock brushed against your core and you gasped lightly. Dean, on the other hand, bit gently into your neck to suppress a loud moan.

"I can't wait any longer, baby," he groaned.

"Take me. I'm yours," you whispered.

He sighed softly, kissing you sweetly before pulling away. "Roll over for me, sweetness. Hands and knees."

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you rolled over immediately. You lowered your upper body to lay flat against the mattress, ass high in the air.

"Holy shit," Dean murmured as his hands grasped your large, round ass. "Who said you could have an ass this incredible? I can't wait to watch it jiggle while I fuck you senseless."

Before you could respond, he smacked your ass with an open palm, causing you to gasp slightly.

He seemed to realize belatedly that he should have asked if you were okay with that before doing it, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined smacking your ass for years. "Is that okay, baby?"

"More, please," you begged softly.

He smacked your ass again with a grin. "You like that?"

"Harder, Dean," you moaned. "Like you mean it."

"Fuck," he groaned, hand coming down against your cheek again.

Each time you moaned loudly, reaffirming your enjoyment of the action. Your pussy clenched around nothing and you were beyond desperate for him to just fuck you already.

"Dean, I need you--please," you cried desperately.

"Where do you need me, baby?"

"Inside me," you whimpered.

Without warning, you felt one of Dean's thick fingers enter your pussy. "Like this?"

You shook your head rapidly.

"Words, babe," he said firmly.

"I want your cock, Dean."

"Yeah? Tell me where."

You turned your head to look at him as best as you could from your current position. "I want you to fuck my pussy with your big, thick cock...please," you pleaded softly.

Dean blinked rapidly and licked his lips. He pulled his finger out from inside of you and sucked your juices from it. "Yes ma'am," he murmured.

He leaned forward and kissed your cheek where he'd left a red mark from his slaps. You turned your head back around, forehead against the mattress, preparing yourself for what would come next.

Dean gripped his cock tightly, stroking it a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. He started to enter you and you gasped at the stretch. It was painful given his larger than average size.

"I've got you, baby," he whispered, running his hands up and down your back in a soothing manner. "Just relax for me."

You took a deep breath and tried to relax your body as much as you could. When he felt the tension leave you, he continued to push forward.

You'd never felt so full before and the pain had begun to subside into pleasure. "You're so big," you mumbled.

Dean smirked and chuckled softly. "I'm not all the way in yet, sweetheart."

"What?!" you gasped in surprise.

He pushed the rest of the way in, bottoming out so deep inside you, you swore you could feel him against your cervix. "Fuck!" you yelped.

Dean continued his soothing hand motions on your hips as he allowed you the time you needed to adjust to his size.

While you appreciated his gentleness, you desperately needed him to fuck you. Instead of telling him what you wanted, you moved your hips forward slightly before slamming back against him so your ass pressed firmly against his lower abdomen.

Dean's blunt nails dug into your hips and he growled lowly. "Fuck, baby."

His hips snapped forward and he held you in place by your hips. He set a brutal pace, unable to move slowly--it felt way too damn good.

Dean was completely mesmerized by your ass, watching it jiggle as he fucked into you forcefully. He slapped the opposite cheek from the one he'd hit earlier and you cried out in pleasure, pussy clenching around him.

"You feel so fuckin' good, sweetness," he moaned. "Tightest pussy I've ever had."

You couldn't formulate a good response to his words as you were already too far gone. His cock slammed into your g-spot with each thrust, making your legs shake and your head fog up.

"Made for me, weren't you baby?"

"Mhmm," you hummed.

Dean smiled, knowing you were overwhelmed with pleasure and unable to respond properly. He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of your hair at the base of your neck. He tugged back slightly--just enough to cause a little pain without truly hurting you.

His thrusts were almost violent, they were so fast and hard. He wanted to feel you come apart on his cock and he knew you were close.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he whispered.

You simply whined desperately.

"What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me what you need."

"More," you begged.

"Hmm," Dean hummed. He slipped an arm around your waist and tugged you back against him so you were sitting up as he continued to thrust into you.

One hand slid up to your neck, wrapping around your throat and applying just a tiny bit of pressure to gauge your reaction. His other hand moved slowly towards your core, seeking your clit for added stimulation.

"Dean!" you cried.

He bit into your shoulder. "I'm here, baby. I want you to fall apart for me."

He rubbed at your clit quickly, thrusts slower due to the new position, but nevertheless pleasurable.

You needed just a little more to push yourself over the edge, so you gripped his hand around your neck and put more pressure on it, indicating what you needed.

Dean got the hint and tightened his grip on your throat, just enough to push you over the edge. He didn't want to hurt you--he would never hurt you.

"Cum for me, sweet girl," he murmured in your ear.

You cried out as your second orgasm crashed against you and your pussy tightened almost painfully around Dean's cock. He helped you ride out your high before lowering you back to the bed and rolling you over onto your back.

He was immediately on top of you, thrusting into you more slowly. He put one arm on either side of your head to support himself, effectively trapping you beneath him.

He rolled his hips against you, the motion pressing his pelvis against your clit, causing you to whimper in pained pleasure. Your hands found purchase in his upper back, nails digging in as he repeated the action.

"I love your body, baby," he whispered. "So fucking perfect."

You smiled up at him, pulling him down for a heated kiss. "I like it too," you mumbled. "Yours isn't bad either."

He chuckled lightly, kissing you lovingly. "I wanna see you come apart for me, (Y/N). Can you give me one more?"

Your eyes widened. "I don't think I can..."

"I bet you can, sweetness." He grabbed your hips and pulled your legs up so your legs were wrapped around his waist. He began to thrust in earnest again and your head fell back, a moan escaping your lips.

Dean closed his eyes, focusing on pulling at least one more orgasm from you and keeping his own at bay. The way you were squeezing him made it a hell of a lot harder than he would like.

The harder his thrusts, the tighter you seemed to grip him, and the deeper your nails dug into his back. He knew he was going to have some serious gashes on his back, but he intended to wear them with pride.

"Come apart for me, baby. Let me feel you soak my cock," he begged.

"Dean," you groaned.

"Come on, my love--let go."

Your eyes fluttered closed and your body began to shake as waves of pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. You came for the third time that night, cries of pleasure mixing with Dean's moans of encouragement.

You started to come down from your high, body overly sensitive from the onslaught of pleasure that continued. "Dean, too much!" you gasped.

"Just one more," he begged.

"I can't!" you whimpered.

"Please baby--one more. Need it," he continued to beg.

You didn't think it was possible for you to cum again, but you began to feel a new sensation in your abdomen. It felt similar to the familiar tightening coil that signified an oncoming orgasm, but it was infinitely more intense. You weren't even sure if it was pleasure or pain--the feeling was simply too overwhelming to comprehend.

"Dean--I can't--" you gasped in confusion.

His hand slid between your bodies to gently massage your clit and you suddenly couldn't breathe. You began to writhe beneath him, hands gripping at the sheets to try and ground yourself.

Dean knew you were about to come undone again, so he didn't slow any of his motions. "Look at me, baby."

Your eyes met his for no more than a moment before your vision became blurry. You screamed his name as you came for a fourth and final time. The feeling was so incredible, you couldn't even begin to describe it.

Your vision began to return to normal as you desperately tried to catch your breath. You were practically limp beneath him as Dean began to chase his own orgasm.

He tucked his head into the crook of your neck and murmured soft words of praise against your skin. "Feels so good--squeezing me perfectly."

He kissed your neck as his thrusts became more erratic. "I'm gonna fill up this pretty little pussy, sweetness. Gonna cum for you."

You managed to press a kiss into his shoulder and wrap your arms around him, hands clutching his back. "Fill me up, Dean," you whispered encouragingly.

Dean groaned lowly. "This pussy is mine, baby. You hear me? Mine."

"Yours, Dean. Only yours."

"Oh--fuck--" he groaned. "(Y/N)!"

His hips began to stutter, thrusts faltering as he filled you up with his seed. He whispered your name like a prayer as his movements began to slow to a halt. You clung to him tightly as he came down from his high.

He finally collapsed on top of you, completely spent and breathless.

You rubbed his back soothingly, lips pressing gentle kisses to his shoulder and neck. As the two of you laid there quietly, you began to notice the bedding beneath you was particularly wet--more so than you had expected it to be.

"I love you so much," Dean whispered, lips pressed softly against your jaw.

"I love you too, baby," you said sweetly.

Dean began to lift himself up, each movement making you gasp--body too overstimulated to handle any motion.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he murmured softly.

"I'm not complaining," you assured him.

He grinned slightly as he pulled himself up completely, softened member sliding out of your excessively wet pussy.

He looked down at the bed and his grin widened. "We made quite the mess, baby."

"Yeah, it feels a little...wetter than normal."

He chuckled softly. "That's probably because you squirted, (Y/N/N)."

You gasped, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. You realized that must have been the result of the most intense orgasm of your life. "I did?!"

Dean noticed your discomfort and immediately reassured you. "Yeah, sweetness--and it was the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

You bit your lip and looked up at him. "Really?"

He grinned. "Really."

"I've--uh--well...I've never squirted before," you admitted.

His chest puffed up with pride. "I'm honored to have been the first--and the last." He added a wink for emphasis.

You smiled softly. "Maybe don't make it a regular thing...I literally can't move."

Dean laughed. "Don't worry, babe. I'll take care of you."

You watched the handsome man cross the room and go into the bathroom, emerging several minutes later with two washcloths. He gently picked you up, moving you to the other side of the bed where it was dry. From there, he very gently began to clean you up with the warm washcloths.

You were moved by the loving way he took care of you, making sure you were clean and comfortable before leaving the room in search of another set of sheets.

When he returned, you found you still couldn't move, but Dean didn't seem to mind. "I can change the sheets with you in them, (Y/N)."

"But--"

"Hush," he insisted as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

He made quick work of removing the sheets on the other half of the bed and putting the clean sheets on that side. He then scooped you up again and moved you to the clean, crisp sheets. He removed the rest of the soiled sheets and finished making the bed.

As soon as he was finished, he crawled into the bed beside you. He reached out to grab your soft body and tugged you against his warm chest.

You nuzzled into him and sighed softly. "I could get used to this."

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. "I'll always take care of you, baby...so you might as well get used to it. I'm not going anywhere."

You smiled and pressed a soft kiss onto his chest. "I love you, Dean."

Dean tightened his grip on you and smiled. "I love you more, (Y/N/N). Always."

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x plus size!reader smut #dean winchester x plus size reader #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester smut #jensen ackles smut

[simplenefelibata]

i think a lot of you undermine sam and cas' friendship.

like, we know sam isn't dean. cas isn't pathetically in love with him and sam didn't change him and he isn't the reason cas cared about the whole world. but that doesn't mean he's unimportant.

at the beginning of the series cas sees sam as the abomination. nothing but lucifer's vessel. throughout the series, sam becomes an extension of dean. cas takes care of him because he's dean's little brother and doesn't really give a much of a thought how his actions could affect him.

on the other hand, i think sam didn't have a lot of friends growing up and it shows lol. he sees cas as an instrument, and then also as an extension of dean. he's important to dean so he's kinda important to him, but he doesn't really Get why dean worries sm about cas — isn't he an angel??? sam constantly says cas is gonna be okay because he "knows what he's doing", or he simply says "it's cas... " it feels like sam is painfully aware how powerful and different he is.

the thing is, slowly but surely, they start hanging out more. they collab for dean's benefit, and then the concern they feel for the other's safety starts being more genuine instead of just "Not letting anything happen because Dean wouldn't survive it". they find out they like each other, and they can work really well together investigating and hunting (i'd argue that even better than cas and dean). this comes to a point where cas teases sam with dean (ex: telling him about the amnesia in the 50's case bc he knows it's embarrassing) and sam texting cas just because.

season 15 is what seals it for me. when cas breaks up with dean (lol), sam is the one reaching out. texting. calling. cas doesn't pick up, but sam keeps doing it. again. and again. that wouldn't have happened in season 7, or season 9, and really not much reason to do it now. but still.

plus, when people talk about cas and his love for the winchesters, they include Both of them. yes, they make the distinction between dean and cas' relationship, but they do include sam. even cas said at one point "you know me, always happy to bleed for the winchesters".

so, what i'm trying to say is: cas and sam's friendship matters!!! they should've had more time screen!!! i bet they would have so many interesting conversations because they're friends!!!

if you say that in a post-canon world you don't think sam would try to get cas to talk about his feelings, or that cas wouldn't confide sam his fears and regrets and worries BEEP you're wrong.

#i just wrote a whole ass essay #but i read a fic where cas treated sam as if he had to put up with him #because he was dean's brother #and then i realized a lot of people genuinely belive sam is jus There #and you're WRONG #sam winchester #dean winchester #destiel #supernatural #castiel #spn #casdean #sam and cas

[fanfictionalraven]

Right Where You Left Me

Title: Right Where You Left Me

Summary: The reader, a waitress at the local diner, has become good friends with Dean. What happens when he disappears without a trace?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 7,309

Warnings: Canon typical violence and peril

Author's Note: This story takes place through the events of the second half of season 12, starting with episode 9 "First Blood". It's also the first story I've actually written and published in nearly 6 years, so grant me a little grace please. Enjoy!!

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” A voice says. You snap from your thoughts and look at the people sitting at the table in front of you. You’d gotten distracted by the bell at the door, a new customer coming in. Not the one you were looking for though. Putting on your best smile, you shake your head slightly. 

“I’m so sorry. Where were we?” You ask, glancing at the notepad in your hand.

“We were trying to ask you about the pie of the day,” the woman says. You nod and try not to sigh.

“Cherry,” you tell her. Dean’s favorite. They order two slices which you deliver to them quickly before going into the kitchen. “Stew, I’m taking a 10,” you announce to the cook. He waves a hand at you and glances at the clock.

“Make it 5,” he shouts as you slip out the back door. Leaning against the wall with a sigh, you slip the brace off of your wrist and roll the sore joint slowly, wincing. 

“This job,” you mumble before pulling your phone from your apron. Going into your recent calls, you hit the name at the top. Dean. He wasn’t going to answer. He hadn’t in weeks after all, calls or texts. It rings…and rings…and rings. Just as you’re about to give up, the final ring is cut off.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice asks, curiously. Confusion and a million unpleasant thoughts sweep over you in an instant.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to reach Dean,” you say.

“This is his phone. At least, I think it is…who is this?” She asks. You sigh and run a hand over your face.

“My name’s Y/N. I…I work at a diner and Dean’s one of my regulars. I haven’t seen him in a while and…I was worried,” you tell her. You can hear the confusion in her voice when she responds.

“A waitress who has her customer’s numbers and calls to check up on them?” She asks.

“No. Well…yes, but…Dean’s more than just a customer,” you say.

“What exactly is Dean then?” She asks, a slight edge to her voice. What is Dean? That was the very question you’d spent countless nights asking yourself.

When Dean had first wandered into the diner and sat in your section, he was just another tip. Sure, the two of you had flirted but, to be honest, you flirted with most of your customers. You had bills to pay after all. He came back the very next night, claiming the pie had just been too good. On his fifth visit to the diner, he wandered in just as you clocked out and invited you to join him. You sat in that booth across from him for hours, laughing and talking. At the end of his seventh trip, you slipped your phone number to him on the back of his bill. He’d called you before his car was even out of the parking lot.

That was nearly a year ago and the two of you talked and texted regularly ever since. Sure, he’d go silent for a little while but then he’d saunter into the diner, give you a crooked smile, and ask for the pie of the day. Throughout that year, the two of you flirted, laughed, and teased each other.  There had been a few occasions when he’d catch you as you were leaving, place a to-go order, and then you’d ride in his car out to some deserted spot to talk and eat. You’d gotten to know each other intimately. In an emotional sense that is. Dean always kept you at arm’s length. He’d never asked you on a real date. Your coworkers insisted he was probably married and just stringing you along. And now some strange woman was answering his phone and…

“Y/N?” The woman on the line says.

“Sorry. A friend. Dean’s…a really good friend,” you tell her. “Can I ask who you are?”

“I’m Mary,” she starts and you immediately let out a heavy sigh.

“His mother. Of course,” you breathe with relief.

“Yes,” she says, slightly surprised.

“He’s talked about you a lot. Where is Dean?” You ask. Now, it was Mary’s turn to sigh.

“We don’t know,” she tells you.

“What?” You ask. “It’s his job, isn’t it?” You didn’t know exactly what Dean did but he’d come into the diner beaten and bruised on a few occasions.

“Well…yes,” she says.

“Have you called the police?”

“Y/N, break’s over,” Stew calls from the back door.

“Give me a minute!!” You yell to him. He grumbles and slams the door shut. “You have called the police, right, Mary?”

“That’s not exactly an option,” she says, slowly.

“Well…what about Sam? Or…or Cas?” You ask. There’s the briefest of pauses.

“I’m…I’m here with Mary,” a second voice says.

“And Sam was with Dean,” Mary adds. Cas was there as well, listening to your conversation. You frown and pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to think.

“I want to help,” you tell them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N but…we don’t even know you,” she says.

“Well, then, come meet me. I get off at 8:00,” you say before giving her the address for the diner. “If you don’t show up, I’ll call the police and report them missing myself.”

“We’ll be there,” Mary says before disconnecting the line. You slip the phone back into your apron pocket and run your hands over your face. Sliding the brace back onto your wrist, you head back into the diner.

The rest of your shift drags on slowly. You don’t make nearly as much as you could have on tips, your normal perky personality absent. At 8:15, you finally manage to clock out, throwing your apron into the dirty linens bag. You rush out the front door and look around, phone in hand. The front doors of an unfamiliar car open at the same time. Mary, you recognize her from the old pictures Dean had shown you, gets out of the driver’s side, and the man you assume to be Cas gets out as well.

“Y/N?” Mary asks, watching you. You nod and rush over to the two of them.

“While I wish it was under different circumstances, it’s nice to finally meet you both,” you tell them, holding a hand out. Mary gives you a quick once over before placing her hand in yours.

“I wish I could say the same but…”

“Dean never mentioned me,” you say. It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. You’d often wondered and now you knew for sure. You were a secret.

“So, what exactly do you know about their work?” Mary asks. You frown and shrug.

“Not much. I figure…best case, CIA…worst case, I dunno…the mafia,” you say, more than a little embarrassed. Mary smiles a little and looks down at the ground.

“Not exactly. It’s a bit more freelance than that,” she says.

“Like a bounty hunter?” You ask. Mary shakes her head, looking around.

“I’d rather not discuss it here. Would you be willing to go back to the bun…where the boys live and talk there?” She asks. 

“Of course,” you agree, immediately.

***

Never get in the car with strangers. The age old advice rang through your ears as you rode in the back seat to wherever Mary and Cas were taking you. Of course, these two weren’t exactly strangers. They were at least Dean’s mother and best friend. You truly felt like you actually knew them with how much he’d talked about them.

Mary continues to drive as you watch the cityscape disappear. It isn’t too long before she’s pulling onto a desolate looking road. The road leads into a dark tunnel, only lit by the headlights of Mary’s car. Your eyes have to readjust when she pulls into a much more brightly lit area. Looking around, you find a room that appears to be a garage holding several very old cars. This much at least screamed Dean, relaxing you a little.

“You said they live here?” You ask, trying to wrap your mind around that statement.

“Yes. It’s an old bunker. Used to be home to a secret society, the Men of Letters,” she tells you. You nod and try to keep your face in check. You can feel her watching you in the rearview mirror.

“Are they in this secret society then? You ask as she parks the car.

“No,” she answers. “It died out in America decades ago. There is still an active branch in London though.”

“Douchebags,” Cas mutters. You both look at him and he glances between the two of you. “That’s what Dean calls them.” You let out a small laugh as the three of you get out of the car. Mary leads the way through the bunker quietly. You follow, looking around and trying to take in as much as you can. She leads the two of you into what you assume is a library given the shelves of books all along the walls.

“You drink?” She asks, holding up a bottle of brown liquid. You nod as you take a seat at the table. Admittedly, you were more of a wine drinker but you felt the impending conversation would require something stronger. Mary pours two glasses and sets one in front of you before walking around to the other side of the table. She takes the seat opposite you and looks at the glass, swirling it slightly. “You sure about this, Y/N? Once you know the truth, leaving it behind can be pretty difficult.”

“Please,” is all you manage to say. She nods and throws her drink back quickly.

“Alright,” she starts. “I come from a long line of hunters. Not the kind you’re thinking of. My family hunted monsters. Ghosts, demons, witches, vampires.” You strive to keep your face in check as you take a slow drink. This was not what you were expecting at all.  “When I was 19, dating John, the boys’ father, a demon killed him and my parents. He offered me a deal. He would bring John back and we could live a normal life, as long as I gave him permission to enter my home in 10 years. I was suddenly alone and holding the dead body of the love of my life. I agreed. Ten years later, he entered my home and killed me. John took the boys on the road and they became hunters as well.”

Mary stops as you stand slowly and make your way over to the bottle she had used earlier. With shaking hands, you refill your glass before downing it quickly. This was insane. Mary was insane. There was no way this was real.

“Mary…I…you really expect me to believe all this?” You ask, looking back at her now. She shrugs slightly and looks at Cas. You’d forgotten he was even there. He’d been leaning against a bookshelf behind her, watching you. You look at him as he starts to make his way around the table towards you.

Panic quickly rises in your throat and you have to remind yourself that these are Dean’s people. At least…you’re fairly certain they are. You’d never seen pictures of Cas and the only ones you had seen of Mary were from when Dean was just a child. Now, this strange woman was trying to convince you that monsters were real and your friend hunted them for a living. Cas stops next to you and looks down at your hand.

“Why are you wearing that brace?” He asks. You blink, surprised. You’d half expected him to knock you unconscious.

“I, ummm…” You hold it up and shake your head. “Carpal Tunnel from work.” Cas nods and briefly touches two fingers to your forehead before you can even register the movement.

“You won’t need it anymore,” he says. You stare at him in disbelief before taking the brace off. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel any pain as you roll your wrist in every direction. You look back up at Cas and then at Mary. She smiles and shrugs.

“Angel,” she says. You know the shock is clear all over your face as Cas helps you back to your seat. The three of you sit in silence for a little while as you process all of this information. You’re grateful for the time they give you.

“You, ummm…” You stop and look at Mary. “You said you died.” She runs a hand across her forehead and looks at you, debating on if you’re prepared for more information. You give her the best reassuring smile you can manage at the moment.

“God’s sister brought me back as a thank you gift to Dean and Sam for helping her reunite with her brother,” she says. You’re absolutely certain your jaw hits the table. 

“Well…that was…nice,” you manage. “And they were on a…a hunt when they disappeared?”

“Lucifer had possessed the president of the United States,” Cas starts. “We were going to exorcise him and return him to his cage in hell.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, immediately beginning to massage your temples. “This is…this is a lot.”

“Now you know why Dean never told you,” Mary says. You nod, still attempting to rub away the migraine threatening to explode behind your eyes.

“I, ummm…can I take a walk?” You ask. Mary nods, smiling a little. You hoped you were handling this better than she expected. You’re still shaking as you rise from your seat again and make your way down one of the hallways. Your mind thinks back over things Dean had mentioned about his work and, frankly, it lined up. He’d never given you a lot of details but now it was starting to make sense.

You stop in the middle of the hallway and glance around. Your curiosity gets the better of you causing you to push open the door in front of you. It was a bedroom, modestly decorated. You make your way into the room and find a familiar picture sitting on the bedside table. It was the photo Dean had shown you of him and his mother. Glancing around the room, you surmise that it must be his room.

You pull open the drawer of the bedside table and gasp. Inside you find several things, another gun, a handful of credit cards, and fake ID’s. But the most surprising thing was sitting right on top. You gingerly pick up the picture and can’t help but smile. It’s of you, sitting in the front seat of Dean’s car, laughing. You remembered when he’d taken it, one of the many nights you’d spent talking. You didn’t realize he’d had it printed and kept it so close. Maybe you were more than just a secret.

“Y/N?” Mary asks from the doorway. You look up at her and she smiles. “I was getting ready to head out when you called, a vampire thing in Missouri. Cas said he’d take you back.”

“Thank you for being honest with me,” you tell her. She nods once and leaves you alone.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You call Stew and make up a story about a death in the family out of state, telling him you’ll need a week or two off. He reluctantly agrees. You stay at the bunker with Cas after that. Your days are spent diving into the lore books in the old bunker, learning anything and everything you can. Cas teaches you how to do “research”, showing you how to tell the difference between normal weird and supernatural weird. He shows you one of the spare bedrooms but you end up sleeping in Dean’s room instead. 

The two of you are making your way to the library when you hear Cas’s phone ringing. He rushes ahead to answer it and you go over to a new shelf to find something else to study.

“What?” He answers the phone. “Dean?” The book you’d picked out slips from your hand and you rush to his side. “What, what happened? Wh-where are you?” You stare at him, tears stinging your eyes. He grabs a pen and pad off the table and quickly jots down a note. Rocky Mountain National Park. State Route 34. “Yes. – Wait, where? – Wait, what does that…” Cas sighs and sets the phone down, frowning.

“What did he say?? Are they okay??” You ask. He glances at you and shrugs.

“He sounded rushed. Like they were being chased,” he says. You nod and pick up the notepad, trying to hide the rush of emotions you were feeling.

“We’ve got to call Mary. Meet up with her and get to Colorado,” you tell him. He looks at you quickly and frowns.

“No, Y/N. It’s too dangerous for you to come along,” he says, taking the notepad. You shake your head, tears falling freely as you look up at the angel.

“Cas, please,” you beg. His resolve breaks instantly and he sighs, picking his phone back up.

“Dean would not approve,” he mumbles before calling Mary.

The two of you pull into a parking lot several hours later. Mary’s car is already sitting, waiting. She gets out and clenches her jaw when she sees you rise from the passenger side of Cas’s car.

“You got here quickly,” Cas remarks. Mary nods, eyes fixed on you.

“Yep. What the hell is she doing here??” She asks. Cas sighs and looks over at you.

“Mary, please. I won’t get in the way, I swear,” you tell her. Frowning, she shakes her head, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Y/N, it’s not about you being in the way. We have no idea what we’re walking into. I’m more worried about you getting hurt and what that would do to Dean,” she says. Swallowing hard, you set your jaw. Mary wasn’t going to see you cry too.

“Please. I have to be there. I need to see him with my own eyes,” you plead. She watches you for a moment, debating internally.

“Dean’s gonna kill us,” she says before turning to Cas. “We may want backup.”

“Crowley and Rowena?” He asks. She scoffs and you glance between them.

“The King of Hell and his mother, the witch?” She asks. You frown and shake your head.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you comment. Mary smiles a little and looks at Cas.

“I hope we can do better than them.”

“I may have an idea,” he says. Mary nods and makes for the driver’s side of her own car.

“Good. Seat belts on. I drive fast,” she tells the two of you as you load into the car as well.

The British Men of Letters. That was Cas’s idea. Mary almost immediately pulls out, supposing “the demon and his mommy” don’t sound so bad anymore. You hang back, watching the situation unfold. The two Brits, Mick and Ketch from what you gather, offer their services seemingly free of charge. They make a few phone calls, getting access to a satellite of the area Dean had mentioned. Mary and Cas are able to deduce the direction they’re headed and a good spot to meet them.

The two cars move to the new location and you all unload once again. You look up at the night sky and think about the last night you’d spend with Dean. He’d picked you up from the diner at closing time and drove you out of town to a remote location. You’d both laid on the hood of the car, splitting the last of the pie of the day.

“Y/N,” Mary says, pulling you from your thoughts. You turn to face her and immediately launch into pleading again.

“Mary, please. I don’t want to wait here while you two go on…”

“Stop,” she says, holding her hand up. “That’s not what I was going to say. Dean’s already gonna be pissed we brought you. He’d kill us both if we left you with those two. Just stay close to us and if something goes wrong, run back here.” You manage a relieved smile and follow her and Cas further up into the woods.

The three of you come into a small clearing and it isn’t long before there’s a rustling in the brush. Cas and Mary both move into a defensive stance in front of you. You wring your hands as you wait. Cas takes a few steps closer to the noise just as Dean and Sam fall through the bushes. Your heart jumps into your throat at the sight of Dean and you almost break down crying right then.

“Sam, Dean,” Cas says, relieved. You can see the tension immediately leave Mary’s shoulders as she takes in the sight of her boys. Sam rises first and pulls Cas into a tight hug. His eyes land on Mary and he smiles.

“Mom,” he says, letting Cas go. He starts to make his way across the clearing towards her when you register the confusion on his face. Dean finally stands and hugs Cas as well. Sam pulls Mary into a tight embrace that she immediately returns. “Who’s this?” He asks.

“Y/N??” Dean’s voice rings across the clearing. You smile, swallowing back tears, and wave slightly. “The hell is she doing here??” His voice is thick with anger as he makes his way over to Mary. The venom in his words takes you by surprise. Mary raises her hands slightly.

“She was worried about you. Called your phone. I answered and she wanted to help,” she explains. You and Dean stand there, staring at each other. Dean’s eyes are full of a rage you can’t even begin to comprehend.

“How much do you know?” He asks.

“A lot more than I did a week ago,” you tell him. He shakes his head and looks to the sky before looking at his mother.

“Hey, Mom,” he mumbles, pulling her into a hug. She lets out a gasp of surprise and returns the embrace. Dean’s eyes never leave your face. “Let’s get out of here,” he says before walking straight past you.

You take a shaky breath and run your hands over your face. You had anticipated he’d be angry, of course. But you had hoped the joy of being together again would cancel that anger out at some point. Mary pats your shoulder before she starts to follow Dean. You debate on staying right there in the woods for a moment before falling in step behind them. Sam clears his throat slightly as you all walk.

“Mom, how did yall even find us?” He asks, attempting to break the tension.

“They helped,” she says, pointing to Mick and Ketch as they come into view.

“Dammit!! They know about her now too??” He groans, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, get in the car.” You stare at him in disbelief for a moment. “Car. Now,” he demands. You wipe at your eyes furiously as you storm back to Mary’s car. Sliding into the middle of the back seat, you realize for the first time that the Dean you knew and this Dean, the real Dean, may not be the same person.

The five of them talk for only a moment before coming to the car. Cas takes the passenger seat quickly and Dean doesn’t hide the dirty look he gives him. You shake your head, unable to believe that having to sit by you in the car was that unsettling. Had you misinterpreted your entire relationship? Sam gets in on your other side and smiles at you, awkwardly.

“Y/N, wasn’t it?” He asks. You look at him and smile bitterly.

“Yes. It’s nice to finally meet you Sam. I’ve heard so much about you. And don’t worry. I know the feeling can’t be mutual. You’ve never heard of me before, have you?” You ask, letting your anger burst out for a moment. Dean’s hand tightens into a fist on his leg as he stares out the window. Sam’s awkward smile becomes apologetic before Mary changes the subject, filling them in on everything they’d missed.

Mary continues to drive on into the night. You catch Sam and Dean both nervously glancing at the clock at the front of the car. They seem to only be getting more anxious as the minutes tick by.

“So wait, you're hunting?” Dean asks his mother. She glances back at him in the mirror and shrugs.

“A little bit,” she says. Sam smiles and shakes his head.

“Yea, I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he teases.

The exact second the clock switches over to 12:00, midnight, the car dies. Mary eases it onto a bridge as she tries the key again.

“It’s time,” Sam says, getting out of the car. You look at him then over at Dean.

“Stay in the car,” Dean tells you. Rolling your eyes, you slide out right behind him, tired of being ordered around tonight. The others all get out as well and look around, taking in their surroundings.

“What’s happening?” Mary asks.

“Yea, Dean. Sup?” A new voice says. You all look over to find a woman standing in the middle of the bridge. You look around, trying to figure out where she could have possibly come from. Dean takes an immediate step in front of you, shielding your entire body. Instinctively, you step closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his back, assuring him you were there and okay.

“Billie?” Mary asks, recognition and confusion mixed on her face.

“The reaper?” Cas asks. You close your eyes, trying to think back over your studies. It wasn’t one of things you’d become familiar with but gauging everyone’s reactions, this wasn’t a good thing.

“I don’t understand,” Mary says, shaking her head. Dean sighs and hangs his head.

“Mom, that place…there was only one way we were getting out of there, and that wasn’t breathing,” he starts to explain. You glance around at everyone and notice the horrified look on Cas’s face. “So I made a call.”

“Dean talked to her and then Billie came to talk to me,” Sam continues the story. “And we made a deal. We’d get to die and come back one more time, but in exchange…”

“Come midnight, a Winchester goes bye-bye. Like, permanently,” Billie says, smiling. “And that is something  I’ve been looking forward to for a long time.”

“No,” you whisper from behind Dean.

“Why would you –,” Mary starts.

“We were already dead,” Dean tells her. “Being locked in that cell with nothing…I’ve been to Hell. This was worse.”

“At least this way, one of us gets to keep fighting,” Sam finishes. You shake your head, taking a step away from Dean.

“No,” you say again. He looks over his shoulder at you and his anger has completely dissolved. “Dean, no.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Billie says, waving. You look at her in utter shock but Dean steps between the two of you again.

“Leave her out of this,” he growls.

“You don’t have to do this,” Cas says, shaking his head.

“Yea, they do,” Billie says. “We made a pact bound in blood, You break that, there’s consequences on a cosmic scale. So, who’s it gonna be?” She asks, looking between the brothers. Sam looks at Dean, then at you, and back to Dean who shakes his head.

“Me,” Mary says before either of them can answer. She turns to face Billie, pulling her handgun from her waistband. Sam and Dean both immediately object, stepping forward to stop her. Billie flings both of them away with a wave of her hand. You rush to Dean’s side and fall next to him, immediately checking him for injuries. He shakes his head and fights to rise to his feet again.

“You said come midnight, a Winchester dies?” Mary asks. “I’m a Winchester.”

“Works for me,” Billie says with a smile. Mary cocks the gun and raises it toward her head. Sam and Dean both object loudly again, fighting to get to her.

“I love you,” Mary sniffs. Just as she’s about to pull the trigger, a sharp pointed blade pierces through Billie’s chest from behind and she immediately falls dead. You stare in shock at the dead body lying before you. Cas stands over her, the blade in his hand dripping blood. Mary lowers her gun as Dean and Sam are finally able to get to their feet. Dean takes your hand, pulling you up as well. You begin to pale as you stare at the body.

“Cas, what have you done?” Dean asks, looking at his best friend in shock.

“What had to be done,” he says. “You know this world – this sad, doomed little world – it needs you…” Your ears begin to ring and you take a shaky step closer to Dean. His arm comes around your waist, eyes never leaving Cas as he continues to talk. Something about keeping all the Winchesters alive.

“Dean,” Mary says, pointing to you. “First dead body.” Dean looks down at you just as you go completely limp in his arms.

**

Dean runs his hands over his face before taking a long swig off his beer. A lot had happened in the last day; dying, coming back again, running, fighting for their lives, getting back to their family, you, Billie, you, Cas killing a reaper…you. That was really the only thing on his mind…you. He had so carefully built a relationship with you. A relationship based on half truths and secrets but a relationship nevertheless. Now, you knew the whole nasty truth. It was going to be Lisa all over again…

“Dean?” Mary asks, sticking her head into the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder and smiles a little. “Can I join you?” Nodding, he points to the empty seat across from him. She walks over, taking the seat quietly. He stares at the bottle in his hands. “Dean…”

“You shouldn’t have told her,” he tells her firmly. “It wasn’t your place. I didn’t want her to know. She was safer not knowing. Now…I’ll never see her again.”

“What? Why?” Mary asks, confused. Dean stands and throws his empty bottle into the trash.

“To keep her safe!!” He snaps, spinning on her angrily. “People around me don’t hang around too long. They either run or they die. It’s as simple as that. Especially the ones who mean the most to me. And she means…” He stops abruptly, emotion closing up his throat. Mary frowns as she stands and walks over to him.

“It only seems that way, Dean. Y/N, she’s…she’s strong. She took everything I told her in stride and she stayed. She stayed here with Cas and she’s been learning how to do the job,” she tells him.

“That’s even worse!! I don’t want her anywhere near this,” he says, fighting back tears. “If it was just normal hunter stuff then maybe but the stuff we deal with…Lucifer and Amara and God…I want her as far away from all of this as possible.”

“Don’t you think she should get a say in this?” Mary asks. He shakes his head, stubbornly.

“No. Soon as she wakes up, I’m taking her back home. I’ll never go back to that diner.. She’ll never see or hear from me again,” he says.

“What?” You whisper to yourself, standing just outside the kitchen door. You turn on your heels and rush down the hall towards the garage. Your car was there and you’d spent enough time at the bunker to know how to get out. You hadn’t heard much but you heard enough. Dean didn’t want to see you anymore, plain and simple.

***

Three months, five days.

That’s how long it had been since you last saw Dean. You’d left the bunker, rejected and heartbroken, and Dean had kept his word. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t come in for any pie. Life was back to normal. Boring, regular, normal. You found yourself reading into everything you saw on the news, wondering if it was a case Dean could be working at that very moment. 

You’d volunteered to close down the diner for yet another night. Floors were mopped. Counters and tables wiped down. All you had left to do was lock up. Flipping off the lights, you step outside into the cool night air. You turn to lock the door when you hear footsteps coming up behind you. Damn it. You’d been so lost in thoughts about what you had believed was a werewolf in Michigan you hadn’t checked the parking lot first.

“Hello, love,” a heavy British accent says. There’s nothing familiar and certainly nothing friendly about the greeting. You stand frozen for a moment, weighing your options. You didn’t have many.

“We’re closed,” you say, not turning to face him yet.

“Not here for the pie,” he jokes. He’s closer than he had been.

“Look. My manager has already taken the deposit to the bank. I’ve got a few bucks in my purse and that’s it. I haven’t seen your face yet. You can turn around and leave, no consequences,” you tell him.

“Afraid not. Got a job to do. A message for your little hunter boyfriend,” he says. You let out a short laugh.

“You’re definitely barking up the wrong tree,” you say. His reflection is in the glass of the door now, standing right behind you. You take a deep breath and turn to face him finally. “Dean Winchester doesn’t care about me. Hurting me, won’t hurt him in any way.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, brandishing a knife. You bring your knee up, hitting him in the groin. He grunts and doubles over, giving you enough time to run towards your car. Unfortunately, the blow doesn’t slow him down enough. Before you can make it to the car, he’s grabbed you by your waist, knife at your throat. “Any last words I can pass on to the Winchesters?” He breathes in your ear.

“Go to hell,” you spit at him. You feel the knife press harder against your skin as angry tears slide down your cheeks. What a way to go. Dying for a man who couldn’t care less.

Before the Brit can finish you off, a car whips into the dark parking lot, lights shining bright on the two of you. It takes your attacker by surprise and you feel his grip relax just enough. A sharp elbow to his abdomen has him letting you go. You fall to your knees as you attempt to run away. The car skids to a stop and you hear the voice you’d only dreamt of hearing again.

“Y/N!!” Dean yells as he runs at your attacker. He tackles him, knocking the knife from his hand as the two men hit the ground. Mary runs to your side as Sam runs to help Dean. You weren’t sure why. Dean had the upper hand, sitting atop the man, punching him in the face. Repeatedly. That’s when you realize, Sam wasn’t helping Dean. He was pulling him off.

“Dean, it’s over,” he tells his brother. “He’s dead.” Mary helps you to your feet, examining you as Dean makes his way over, wiping his bloodied hand off on his shirt.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Dean asks, taking your face in his hands. He looks you over and frowns at the knick on your neck. Running his thumb over it gently, he wipes the blood away. 

“I’m fine,” you mutter, taken aback by his gentleness and concern. Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into a crushing hug. You gasp and freeze before slowly returning the embrace. Mary touches Sam’s shoulder and nods back towards the dead body. They slip away to deal with that and give you two some privacy. “Dean…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I put you in so much danger,” he says, letting you go. “I didn’t know we were being watched. I didn’t know.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” You ask.

“The British Men of Letters. Turns out it was a join or die type of situation. They’ve been watching all of us for a while now. They knew about you before you ever knew anything,” he explains. “They had brainwashed Mom but we just got her back. Sam and Jody led a raid of the Brits’ headquarters. Saw the pictures of you, of us here. We got here as quick as we could.” He winces now and you finally register how badly beaten he looks.

“What happened to you?” You ask, knowing your attacker hadn’t even gotten one good swing in. He limps over to his car and leans back against the hood.

“Grenade launcher,” he says, pointing to his leg. “Bad fight with Ketch.” He points to the rest of himself.

“Gre...huh??”

“They locked us in the bunker. Shut off the air supply. It was our only way out. And it was freaking awesome,” he says, smirking now. You roll your eyes at him and try not to smile, fighting back that familiar feeling he always gave you.

“Well, thank you. I’ll be more careful. Try not to close up by myself anymore,” you tell him, crossing your arms. He nods slightly, watching you.

“Or you could come with me,” he says. You scoff a laugh and shake your head.

“You don’t have to babysit me, Dean. I’ll be fine,” you say.

“What?” He asks. You shrug, trying to give him a confident smile.

“I’m officially relieving you of the burden of my safety. Whatever happens to me, happens. Don’t let it get to your conscious,” you tell him, looking around for your purse.

“Y/N,” Dean says. He watches you walk over and pick up the discarded item. You throw it over your shoulder and look back at him. “Come here,” he says gently, holding a hand out.

“You don’t want me. I know that. Please stop this,” you say, looking down at the gravel under your feet. You hear him sigh and look up as he starts to limp towards you. “No. Stop. You’re hurt.” He rolls his eyes now before taking your face in his hands for the second time tonight. This time his eyes aren’t searching for injuries. They’re searching for answers.

“Why would you think I don’t want you?” He asks, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it before. You get lost in the green of his eyes for a moment before the memory of that night comes back.

“I heard you with Mary. You said I wouldn’t see or hear from you again. And I haven’t since I left the bunker that day,” you tell him, hating to relive those harsh words. He nods, his hands leaving your face. They don’t go far though, immediately coming to rest on your hips.

“Is that all you heard?” He asks. You nod, wishing he’d just let you go home instead of dragging this out. “I didn’t leave you alone because I didn’t want you. I left you alone because I needed to keep you safe, because I want you too much, because I care about you too much.” Your eyes fill with tears as you stare up at him. You had to have died and gone to heaven for him to be saying these things, the things you wanted him to say so desperately.

“You were so mad when you saw me…”

“Because I didn’t want you anywhere near this life. Hunting, especially the things we end up hunting, it’s dangerous,” he pauses and closes his eyes. “I had just made a deal with a reaper to die. Again. I’d already resolved myself to the fact I wasn’t going to get to say a proper goodbye to you, tell you how I felt, how happy you’ve made me over the past year…and then you were there, right smack in the middle of everything. I was furious, yea, but not at you. I was mad at myself. I never shoulda came back here to begin with.”

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head. Nothing was making sense. Nothing but the feel of his hands on your waist. That was good. That was right.

“I fell for you so hard that first night I came in for dinner. I was just supposed to come in, pick up something for me and Sam, and head back to the bunker. But when I walked in and saw you…I had to know you,” he recalls. “I thought a couple of visits couldn’t hurt. I could just be a customer, see you, talk to you. Maybe you’d eventually learn my name. That third time I came in and saw you getting ready to leave I was devastated. So I asked you to join me, thinking there wasn’t a chance in hell. You’d just gotten off work. Surely you wanted to get out of there and get home. But you stayed and you sat with me and…I knew I was in trouble.” You’re crying now. You don’t know exactly when the tears started but they were falling quickly. Dean brings one hand up and wipes at each of your cheeks gently. “And then you gave me your number…man, I almost called you from the booth,” he laughs. You do as well, reaching up and taking his hand. You press a kiss into his palm.

“I never knew what we were. I was so confused,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry. I kept going back and forth. I told myself it was too dangerous, you were safer as my friend. But then I’d get you alone, in my car and…” His hand tightens slightly on your hip and he pulls you impossibly closer. “I wanted you so desperately.” His voice dropped lower and his eyes bore into your own.

“I wanted you too,” you just manage to whisper. His forehead is touching yours now. Your eyes flutter close as his breath washes over your face.

“No more secrets,” he says before finally bringing his lips in to meet yours. This isn’t a gentle, chaste first kiss. Your lips move desperately against his as your arms wrap around his neck. It was everything you’d imagined and nothing like you could have dreamed all at the same time. His lips were chapped but gentle. He tasted of mint and whiskey. The way his hands moved over your back, one sliding just beneath your shirt to caress the skin at the small of your back, was intoxicating. You force yourself to pull away, remembering that his family was in the near vicinity.

“I have one secret,” you admit. He looks down at you expectantly. “I freaking hate this job.” He laughs and shakes his head, kissing you once more quickly.

“Sweetheart, I got bad news. That ain’t a secret,” he teases. You laugh too as Dean looks over your shoulder at the diner. “This place is gonna go under without your pie. It’s the only reason anyone comes back.”

“Including you?” You ask. His smile turns into a smirk as he looks back down at you.

“Why do you think I’m keeping you at the bunker?” He asks. Laughing again, you try to step out of his arms but they only tighten around you. His face is suddenly serious again as he watches you. “But only if you’re absolutely sure. I can’t stress enough how dangerous this life is.” You smile as you take his face in your hands.

“Dean,” you start. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

With that, Dean kisses you once again.

You leave your diner key in the door and a note taped to the glass.

I quit. -Y/N

****

Tags: @roseblue373

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #sam winchester #mary winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #cas #castiel #right where you left me #dean x waitress

[heartthrobin]

lovers, to bed: tis almost fairy time (4)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.0k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), angst, subby sam winchester (?), some smoking, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: i'm so sorry that this took so long, uni has put me in a really tough mental space at the moment and being creative has been so difficult. but i hope it was worth the wait! love you all endlessly

summary: yes, Sam Winchester was an idiot: but he would be damned if he was going to let his little fairy get away.

part one part two part three

The trunk clicked open, swinging up against the back window of the Impala.

Dean rummaged between the shotguns and the silver blades and the jugs of gasoline. His hand emerged with a wide set machete, holding it up to Sam.

"I've been dying to use this bad boy since Idaho." He grinned at his reflection in the steel blade.

Sam rolled his eyes, hair fluttering over his forehead where the evening wind was tugging on it. The Impala was parked up against the grass at the edge of the forest, the sun disappearing over the treetops in a way that sunk the town in a purple glow.

He reached in to grab a shotgun, a silver blade too: slipping it into his jacket pocket. "Right. Let's just get this over with."

His brother grinned, "So you can go see your little princess, hm?"

Sam didn't dignify him with a response. Mostly because he was right.

The weight of the truth draped over his shoulders like a truck. Stifling and making it hard to breath, let alone think.

Dean laughed at his lack of response, bumping his shoulder to his:

"Sammy's getting laid tonight." He sing-songed.

"Yeah, right. That's a great idea." He huffed, "Then she can see all my scars and realise I've been lying to her. Sounds fun."

Nudging the trunk closed, Dean groaned. "She's gonna find out either way."

"Not unless I don't tell her."

At that Dean paused. His eyes ran over Sam's figure where he was loading the shotgun.

"So when were done, we're just gonna leave town?"

Sam slammed the trunk shut with maybe a little too much force. "Can we drop it?"

Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever. It's your problem, but I think she should know."

But Sam was already pacing towards the line of trees, huffing and trying to suffocate the guilt building in his chest.

The forest wasn't making it any easier. Dean was trailing behind him, every footstep crackling over the dry leaves and soft grass reminding him of your laugh. The dark bark of the black of your eyes, those eyes so wide and wet--

"Hey," Dean's voice cut through his thoughts. He motioned over between the trees. "Look."

There was the tree again. Glowing just like it had been the last time they'd ventured into the belly of the woods.

A crunch echoed around the space. Sam's head whipped over his shoulder, Dean reaching with a quickness that only came from experience for the gun in his holster:

"What was that?"

-

There was a teenager behind the counter when you plonked down a packet of sour worms and a tray of eggs in front of her.

She was usually the one who helped you when you'd stop in after work some days. She's cute in a sprightly way: piercings sticking out from every piece of skin she could get her hands on and she was one of the only people left in town who didn't scowl at you when you came in.

But she was looking at you funny just then, her hands still where they'd usually just reach to start scanning your things with a bored look on her young features.

"You've ... uh, got a ..." she'd motioned up to her own face, brushing a finger over her cheek.

Your hand came to pet your own face, drawing back with a palmful of blood. Shoulders sagging, you sigh. "Oh."

She leaned down under the counter, emerging with a handful of napkins and offering them to you. You smiled at her, "Thank you. It's, uhm, it's not mine."

The girl nodded like she already figured. She started to scan your eggs while you wiped down your cheek, napkins dissolving into a crimson lump. You wondered, for the millionth time, what your soulmate had gotten themselves into today.

There was a glass case enclosing some rotating hot dogs that you used to check your reflection: to probe gently at the thin cut you suspected was the work of a sharp blade, and when she handed you your bag, your face was mostly clean over where it was flush with embarrassment. Poor girl was already working late on a week night and you'd waltzed in looking like a scene from a horror movie.

You thanked her and she offered one last uninterested nod.

It was dark out already and you didn't feel as safe walking home as you once had but there was little option, and the corner store was less than a couple blocks from home.

The bag shuffled and your neck-full of crystals clinked as you walked. You hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all afternoon, some playful tune you'd heard on the radio in the shop.

In the distance there was a crowd. The road overthrown with a flickering blue and red light from cop cars parked just further down and voices overlapped in loud chatter.

You frowned. "What ..."

As you neared your eyes find uniformed officers pushing back other curious onlookers. There was a news van parked there too: a man dressed in a smart suit speaking into a microphone at his chest and he's grinning-- "Yes, Arthur, I am here in Fernglade Washington with some amazing news for our viewers. Tonight, the town can rest a little easier--"

There was a loud sob that carries over heads and a woman was on her knees, jeans pressing into the concrete where she was clutching a child. She's shaking violently ... and she wasn't alone.

Behind her was another set of parents with a child ... and another, and another.

Your heart floated into your throat. There brewed a bubbling feeling in your chest, it's ... it's the children. The missing children.

You recognised Rachel and Georgia ... and Manny. Sure, they were a little dirty: with pale soil-ridden faces and torn Barbie t-shirts.

One, two, three -- you counted them with your eyes -- seven. They were all there.

The police had set up a barricade and you didn't even realise you'd dropped and crushed your eggs when you pressed against it. There's eyes on you, guilty eyes, and you could tell nearby officers were pretending not to look at you out the corner of their eyes.

But you couldn't be bothered with them, with the whispering crowd either, because you'd made out the outline of the Winchester brothers' backs talking down at a short police woman who was avidly writing against a tiny notebook.

You were grinning so hard it was hurting your cheeks and your eyes welled with the joy of the scene. They were all there. They were all okay, alive!

"Sam!' you leaned over the wooden barricade. It had to have been them, there was nobody else who believed you. Believed that the kids weren't locked up in the depths of a dungeon you didn't own.

A laugh was gurgling up from the depths of your throat and you felt where a tear slipped over the healing cut on your cheek. "Sam!"

Sam's head perked up, pausing mid-sentence when he turned those wide shoulders to the crowd, to you. His face lit up with shadows under the spectacle of coloured lights when his eyes found yours.

Your heart sunk from where it was sitting in your throat, slipping all the way to the deepest pit in your stomach.

Even under the harsh light and the cover of night it was impossible to miss the drying blood painting his face. Running down from a cut over his cheek. Your hand came to find your own jaw, eyes never leaving his, when you pressed up into the matching scar. It didn't hurt and even if it had, you wouldn't have felt it just then.

Sam's face was twisting with realisation. "Y/n--"

You tripped back over the edges of your skirt, knocking into the onlookers behind you-- "hey, watch it!"

Concrete reached up, scraping at your heels wedged into dainty sandals, but the hammering of your heart kept them moving. You broke out the crowd, oxygen leaning further and further out your grasp when you broke into a run.

"Y/n, wait!"

But you didn't stop.

Sam watched your silhouette shrink down the road, streetlights illuminating your escape. He gulped for breath, guilt choking him out: clogging his airways with thick sludgy shame.

"Sammy," a hand closed over his arm. "Come on--"

"Agent, we need to finish getting your statement."

Dean was leaning over his shoulder when he looked down. His eyes were sticky with sympathy.

The officer was lingering just a foot from him. She looked confused, gaze flickering between him and the now empty street.

"Dean ..." he turned to his only comfort. "She-- my face ..."

His brother nodded. "Yeah, I know. I know, Sammy."

He patted him. "Just give her some time to breath, okay? Let's finish here."

Every nerve-ending in his body was screaming at him to chase you down the street. To break through the nosy locals and crawl his way up your porch steps: beg on his knees for forgiveness.

Just give her some time. He didn't know if his mind was ringing or if Dean had said it again, but Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

The officer pressed her pen back to her little notebook. She nodded, "Okay so you guys followed the perpetrator into the forest. Male, blonde hair, you said?"

Dean made a grunt of agreement.

-

The night was so cold, Sam remembered.

A thin sheet of drizzle was patching up the sidewalk when his heavy footsteps crept up along it. Barely enough to dampen his hair, but his jacket felt impossibly heavy over his shoulders.

It was past midnight. The police had held them down: a trip to the station, a tower of signed documents and a sketch artist later there he finally was, standing feeling small for the first time in his life at the edge of your property.

Wind was twirling a thin line of smoke off your porch. He could see you through the darkness.

You said nothing. Eyes connected with his across your impeccably maintained grass.

It egged him forward.

His footsteps were loud clambering up the three wooden steps onto your porch.

You were leaned back into the arms of an ornate wooden rocking chair he'd noticed on his first trip up those same stairs. You weren't looking at him anymore: eyes drifting over the quiet street.

Sam was at least glad to find you bundled up in a blanket.

In your lap sat was the strangest-looking pipe he'd ever seen. An obnoxiously long chamber with a bulbous bowl at the end.

A string of purple smoke was curling out from between your lips. "You're here."

He couldn't tell if it was a question or not. Your face was as passionless as he'd ever seen it: offering him nothing.

"I promised I would be."

You nodded slowly, bringing the pipe up to your mouth and sucking on it steadily, still not looking at him. "How are the kids?"

Sam's hands bunched at his side. A dreadful burning viper was slithering between his organs. In this light he could see the smooth cut against your face, a misaimed throw of a blade from Dean when a tiny grotesque goblin had leapt up at him.

"They're ... they're fine. T-They're good."

"Did you know?"

You're looking at him now. It's the question he knew was coming but it knocks him breathless all the same.

He draws breath, mind spinning between the truth and an easier lie. "I--"

"Don't lie, Sam."

Your eyes are piercing him, like an arrow to the chest. He swallows hard. "Yes ... I did."

The pipe draws up to your mouth again, you let out a soft humourless laugh. It's followed out by another cloud of glittering smoke. The laugh so empty that it dries Sam's mouth.

"I ... the life I lead," he starts again, the snippets of a speech that he'd been stewing on his whole life for this exact moment coming out sounding more pathetic than he ever thought they could. "It's no life for you. For anyone, and I couldn't do that to someone I... I-I love. To tie you to me, I've done terrible things you don't know--"

"And you think I haven't?" You're rising from the chair now, pipe thudding to the floor. Your voice is prickled in a rising anger. "That I'm some jewel who could never imagine what life is like on the run? To kill and hurt for survival?"

The rain was coming down harder. Trees and bushes leaning against the push of the wind. Sam was so lost in the heat of your eyes that he didn't notice the creep of a thick-set branch crawling up the edge of the porch, down over the lip of the roof.

"Were you just gonna leave?" Your voice never rose but he flinched like you'd screamed it at him. The flush of fury setting your cheeks alight, illuminating the scar that put you both there. "You were, weren't you?"

The touch was wet and solid when it wrapped around his ankle, the branch wrenching him by both ankles back against the bannister of the porch. He gasped when the wood struck his back: another thick brown limb winding around his neck, not enough to hurt but enough to fix his head in your direction and stop him from toppling over.

It took a couple gulps of breath to realise that it was the tree. The one wrapped around your cottage, that it was you.

"This is a two way street, Sam." you pressed up against his chest, eyes alight with a power you'd never let show before. "You bang me up for years and years, and I sit and wait for you. And you were just gonna leave? Leave me to patch up all your bullet holes and your wolf bites?"

Shame drains his cheeks of warmth. He doesn't fight the tree's grip, purposefully ignores the sharpened blade that's still well within his reach. Sam shakes his head as well as he can: he doesn't know what to say. His whole pathetic speech meant nothing anymore and he didn't think this could hurt any harder until he realises that tears are streaming quietly down your perfect perfect face.

You're pressed up against him, your warmth seeping into his bones.

Forehead meeting his pectoral, you shake your head too. Tears wetting his shirt.

"I was scared." He finally lets out, it's pitiful. "I didn't know this is what it felt like. I didn't know love could feel like this."

"I'm scared too, you know." You whisper into him.

In a surge of bravery, or maybe just stupidity - he couldn't tell anymore, his hand finds your jaw: tipping it up to face him.

God, he never thought you could be more beautiful but you were blinking up at him with wet lashes and a trembling lip and he was ready to give up his whole fucking life for you. Lay down the gun and never pick it up again, let Dean drive alone out and far away from Fernglade.

It was all made more real when you leaned up onto your toes, nose brushing his and hands finding his neck.

You moved no closer, warm breath caressing the bow of his lip, but Sam would be damned if being hog-tied by some oak tree was gonna stop him from the taste of you so he wrapped a strong arm over your waist and tugged you just that little distance further.

The feeling of your lips crashing on his couldn't be any sweeter. He imagined that this is what a firework felt like when it leapt into the sky and burst.

Your mouth was desperate, like his, and your hands wrapped around the base of his shivering neck.

You tasted like sweet tea and tangy like whatever was in your magical pipe and if the tree wasn't holding him upright he'd have crashed to his knees. You whined lowly and it stoked the fire pit in Sam's stomach.

His tongue slipped past your lips, struggling against the hold of the oak tree to let his hands roam your back. Your mouth was wet hot and he knew he could kiss you forever, until his oxygen depleted and he was dead for the world.

But you stepped back, eyes wide like you'd been doused over with ice water. A hand wiped at your mouth, at the mix of his and your's saliva coating your lips.

"You ..." your voice trembled. "You should go."

You stumbled back down the porch, door creaking as it opened and banging as it shut.

The grip of the tree loosened and Sam watched it's branches creep back under the porch. It became still again, rain calming to a measly patter and bushes watching quietly.

"Fuck." he whispered.

-

Sam shut the car door obnoxiously loud after him. The leather of the Impala creaked loudly when Dean followed in suit, hands reaching up to the slick black wheel.

"You're sure?"

Without answering, Sam shifted to take one last look at the Pinecone Motel and it's chipping copper paint.

"Fine." Dean turned the key into the ignition, car rumbling to life beneath them.

In the backseat is his and Sam's rucksacks and duffle-bags jam-packed with their few worldly possesions. The same bags haphazardly zipped shut that same morning when Sam eventually busted through the door demanding that they left Fernglade right fucking now.

The sun was just barely creeping over the town and morning chill frosted the view through the windscreen. It's busy despite the time: open signs are flickering on and men in aprons are heaving crates of apples onto stands under fairylight-lit doorways.

Bad Moon Rising hummed through the crumbly speakers and Sam slammed the switch on the dash so it shut off.

"Hey!" Dean calls, "take it easy man. She's gentle."

He pat the dash softly where Sam has just knocked it. Still, his brother says nothing.

"Okay." He huffed, pulling the car into a spot near the sidewalk in front of a lifeless diner. Dean twists in his seat to face Sam: "you've barely said a word all morning."

Sam tugged his jacket closer over his frame. "I said I don't wanna talk about it."

"Yeah, yeah. You've been saying that all damn week." Dean's arm lifted to rest against the back of the seat. "But you're gonna talk now. This isn't some passing girl that you can just pack your bags and run away from. You're gonna have to go there and apologise."

Sam's expression curls in anger. "Yeah, Dean, I did that! And she tied me up with tree branches and kicked me off her porch--"

"Well, boo hoo!" Dean tightened his one-handed grip on the steering wheel. "Do it again! Do it until she forgives you."

"I don't need your advice, Dean. I've made up my mind, we're leaving."

A cat was scratching on a growing weed at the edge of the sidewalk, Sam focused on it to avoid his brother's eyes. They were hot and he could feel them burning a hole into the side of his face.

"Can we just go."

"What is it?" Dean spoke again, this time quieter. Cool fog followed the words out his mouth. "What are you scared of?"

Sam ran both hands through the tendrils of hair over his scalp. He sighed. "I'm ... she's not gonna be able to forgive me."

"Are you gonna be able to forgive yourself?"

There was a long quiet.

It was broken by a car passing noisily. It draws Dean's attention and he nodded quietly to himself. "Fine. Wisconsin?"

"Yeah." Sam agrees quietly.

The car started again, Dean went to turn to radio back up. "Will you grab my jacket, I left it in the trunk. It's fucking freezing in here."

Sam sighed again. "Fine."

"Thanks."

The door clicked open again. He's barely both feet out the car when it grumbles and swerves off the sidewalk, Sam tripped over the edge nearly onto the concrete, and by the time he's stabled himself: the Impala was racing down the main road.

"You'll thank me for this!" His brother's voice faded with the car's black silhouette.

Sam's hands returned to his hair again, "son of a bitch!"

An old lady across the street turned to him with an affronted look. He waves her off, kicking at the same weed the cat had abandoned in the flurry of commotion.

Above him, the diner sign flickers on: The Frothy Mug. He stopped.

It felt like years between when he was last standing under the same light of the sign. In front of the same three steps that he watched your eyes sparkle at him: your hand tucked warmly against his.

"Fucking ..." the expletives died on his tongue. He's right, that asshole.

"I'm a fucking idiot."

Sam's legs began moving before he even knew they were, chasing down the same route he'd meandered along with you three nights previous. He's sprinting, breathing a purposeless afterthought as the diner disappeared behind him.

Past the pharmacy, the laundromat, The Bloom Box. All the way to the end of town where your cottage and your trees and your flowers and you waited for him.

Sam panted clouded breaths as the sight came into view at the end of the road. The morning sunlight lit your garden a bright orangey eden. His steps were just as heavy as they were in the early hours of that same morning when he trudged up the same stone pathway.

He didn't let himself hesitate, bringing red, bruised knuckles up against the hardwood door. The knock rumbled through the house and shakes every bone in his body.

There was a long pause. Then a scuffle, a sniff and a "Goose, get back".

The door creaked and you stood in the doorway like you had the first day his feet found this porch.

While expected, Sam was taken aback by the sight of you. You're in a matching set of pajamas, green - unsurprisingly - and covered in little ladybugs. Your face was swollen with sleep, eyelashes kissing in the corner and lips puffy.

"Sam--" you sighed, but Sam's hands find your shoulders gently.

"I know it's early, but please listen. I'm an idiot." He sounded desperate, but couldn't find a way to help it.

"Yes." You nodded.

"And I'm sorry." He nodded along with you. "And it took Dean kicking me out the car to get me here because - like I said - huge idiot, but I'm sorry. I'm a sorry, sorry idiot who's so in love with you that he doesn't know what to do with himself."

Your eyebrow curls, "Dean kicked you out the car?"

Sam's eyes rolled. "Yes. I was going to leave, because I'm a coward too. A cowardly idiot who doesn't deserve forgiveness, but I'm asking for it anyways."

You shrugged, head dipping to almost rest against your shoulder. Your face almost, almost laced in amusement. "Begging always looks a little more convincing on your knees, Sam."

His knees knock loudly when they hit the wooden porch. Sam's hands slide down to find yours.

"I'm sorry." He said again, the only words his brain could formulate under the shine of you in your morning glory - the sight of a woman he wanted to see every morning until forever. "Please let me make it up to you?"

Your hands released his slowly, rising to run through his chestnut hair and settling at the base of his neck. You smile.

He thought he might be dreaming but you lean down and kiss him gently. A tinkle of bells rang through the air and Sam smiled against your mouth.

You brushed your nose against his: "I forgive you, Sam."

Sam's hands grip against your hips before floating back and brushing against the edge of the silken wings at your back.

"Really?"

"Yes. Now come in here and show me how sorry you are."

-

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[deanstead]

News

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Requested: yes, by @caritobbg

Summary: Dean’s first news about Y/N after their fallout is not good news and everything else is thrown out the window as they rush to her, hoping to make it in time.

Square Filled: Hurt Feelings for #resa.3kfiestabingo

Word Count: 2K+

Warnings: canon-typical mentions of blood

A/N: I changed the request a little based on how I was able to envision/write it so I hope that’s okay, do let me know what you think! Special thanks to bestie @mertes4cker <3 Feels great to write for Dean again after a long break!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST

“So what, Dean? You’re telling me to give up?”

“I’m telling you to take a freaking step back and use your goddamn brains, Y/N! Instead of getting us all killed! Just like…”

Dean stopped and you looked up. He didn’t need to finish that sentence for you to know what he was going to say.

“Say it, Dean.”

“A stupid hunter is a dead hunter.”

“Like Mark? Or my parents? You know what, if I’m so stupid why do you bother keeping me around!” You turned to storm out.

“If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back, you hear me, Y/N?”

You heard, but you kept walking.

You didn’t go back, and Dean didn’t call. Before you knew it, you’d been on the road for six months on your own, but everytime you thought about that night, or even the name Dean, it smarted and hurt. It hurt that the man you were in love with had said and thought those things about you.

But now, you glanced back down at the darkening pool of blood by your abdomen before you sunk to the ground.

You'd spent months tracking down the demon that had been responsible for the death of your parents but it seemed like an impossible task, until it wasn't. With no one's help, you'd managed to finally catch up to it except that you had absolutely no back up and no friends. And that's how you found yourself here now.

Dean had been right. You were an idiot.

You'd finally put that knife through the demon's heart, you'd killed it and exacted some form of revenge against him, but at what expense? You were now sitting in an abandoned building, leaning against a bunch of crates and probably going to die on your own - a realization that you'd had from the moment you'd first felt the knife the demon was carrying pierce through your skin while you fought with him, but it was already too late to back down. The price of revenge was death.

Maybe it was the blood loss as you sat there, cradling a wound in your side and feeling the blood leave your body that made you fumble for your phone with one hand and press the last number you could call.

Bobby glanced up at Dean who was wolfing down a burger while Sam sat next to him, flipping through a research book.

"Exactly how long are you boys planning to…"

Bobby was interrupted by his phone ringing and he headed to answer it, acutely aware that it was his personal cell.

"Bobby?" Your voice reached his ears immediately, the moment he'd answered the call and Bobby frowned.

"Y/N?" Bobby asked, not missing the way that Dean's eyes shot up, although he pretended that it didn't as he averted his eyes almost immediately, looking away from Bobby and looking around the room again.

Your voice was weak, which only made Bobby more concerned. "I did it. I killed the son of a bitch. But… I don't think I'm... going to make it. I just wanted… I wanted to t-tell you… thank you. Thank y-you for everything."

Bobby was the father figure you'd needed in the aftermath of losing your parents and honestly, you couldn't have asked for anything more.

"Where are you, Y/N? Give me something, coordinates, a city or building name. Give me something." Bobby said, his voice a little strained.

You mumbled the coordinates that you'd followed to get here in the first place. "You're not going to make it. Just… w-wanted you to know…" You took another breath, trying to breathe through the pain. "…that you were like a... a father to me."

"Listen, we're going to head there now. Alright?" Bobby said quietly.

He could hear the smile in your voice. "Listen, can you tell Dean and Sam something for me?" There was a pause before you continued. "Just tell Sam that... that he was the older brother I'd always d-dreamed to have. And tell... tell Dean that... I didn't mean anything I said and that I… I love him. Always have... always will." Your voice was coming out in short breaths.

Bobby's eyes flicked to the Winchesters. Sam was paying full attention like he'd already figured something was wrong, while Dean looked like he was trying not to look interested.

"We'll be right there, don't… You're going to be fine, kiddo."

Bobby hung up the phone and glanced back at the Winchesters. Sam was already on his feet. "That was Y/N, wasn't it? What's wrong?"

"Listen, she…"

Dean put the plate he was holding down with a thud and glanced up. "It's none of our business. I told her not to come back if she left and she left anyway. I'm not…"

"You stupid idiot!" Bobby let out the outburst, stunning both Dean and Sam. "Well, boohoo, I'm sorry your feelings were hurt! I thought I pounded this into you years ago! Family, Dean. Family. Right now, the girl who just confessed her dying love for you to me on the phone is alone and bleeding out somewhere so get off your ass and get moving!"

Dean froze. "What?"

Sam glanced at his older brother. "Come on, Dean. Let's go."

Throughout the whole journey towards the coordinates that you'd given Bobby, Dean was quiet. Sam didn't say anything, although he glanced at Dean a little more than he usually did.

Dean barely noticed, absolutely preoccupied with the thoughts flying around in his mind.

He'd never meant for you to disappear from their lives. Never. The fight still made his stomach churn with regret every time he thought about it - anytime he looked in his rearview mirror and saw the empty backseat. Or when he'd found something of yours somewhere in his car when he was least expecting it.

All he'd been trying to do was protect you, but he'd failed miserably at it, pushing you further away, hurting you by bringing up the death of a hunter at a hunt gone wrong when it hadn't been your fault, and now he didn't feel any better knowing that he had a part to play for the fact you were bleeding out by yourself somewhere.

The only consolation Dean got was that the coordinates were not far. They'd be able to get to you in time. He'd make sure of it.

Sam glanced at Dean again, but Dean just pressed harder on the accelerator, pushing Baby forward.

The place was quiet and empty when Dean pulled up outside the building all of ten minutes later.

Sam put a hand on his gun as he climbed out, but Dean was already heading in, Bobby bringing up the rear.

They didn't have a lot of time but that didn't mean they could be careless, so Dean glanced around cautiously even though he didn't slow down at all.

Thankfully, there were no surprises waiting for them and Dean spotted you almost immediately, your body slumped against one of the corners, your eyes closed.

"Y/N!"

Dean held his gun by his side but raced towards you, getting to his knees so he could check you out.

There was blood everywhere, spilling out of your abdomen, on the ground next to you, smeared across your hands from where you trying to apply pressure on your wound.

"Y/N, wake up. You with me? Y/N!" Dean raised his voice louder, his voice echoing against the walls as Sam and Bobby watched helplessly.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you paused, like you weren’t quite sure if you were seeing things.

A small smile fluttered across your face. “Huh.” You breathed, amused that you’d hallucinate about Dean right before you took your last breath.

“Y/N.” Dean’s breath came out like a sigh, a mix of relief that you were awake that was overshadowed with the worry that you really might not make it.

“Dean?” You felt the uncertainty that this was more than just a hallucination shake you.

Dean nodded. “It’s me. Alright? We’re going to…” Dean’s voice trailed off, his attention once again taken by the sheer amount of blood pooling out of your wound and he hastily pulled his jacket off, reaching forward to press his balled up jacket against your wound even though he knew it wouldn’t do much good.

“Dean, I… I…”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Dean reached for one of your hands and squeezed it. “You stay with me, alright? We’re gonna patch you up, you’re going to be fine.”

Dean could feel the fear start to pulsate through him, the real possibility of your life literally slipping through his fingers dangling right in front of him. “We gotta get you to a hospital.”

“Dean.” Sam interrupted for the first time, as he bent next to you, opposite from Dean.

“Hey squirt.” Sam said affectionately, putting a gentle hand against your head.

You gave him a small smile and Sam turned towards Dean now, talking in a low voice as if you couldn't hear every word. “We can’t move her. Bobby’s calling an ambulance as we speak but…”

Dean knew what Sam was telling him, in not so many words. Moving you could shorten whatever time you had left, but what else were they supposed to do?

Dean glanced back at you and then at Sam. “So what, we’re just going to let her bleed out?”

Sam didn’t answer and you turned to look back at Dean. “It’s… okay. D, I… I’m sorry.”

Dean frowned and Sam quietly excused himself, leaving you with Dean while he headed out towards Bobby.

“No, don’t do this, Y/N. Do not give up on me.” Dean said, his voice low but soft and even in the state you were in, you could hear his voice crack a little. “You’re supposed to continue to argue with me, fight with me, make up with me. Don’t leave me, Y/N.”

Your eyes welled up with tears. “I love you, D. Always have.” The energy leaked out of your voice. “Always will.” You whispered.

“No. No, Y/N. Please just a while longer. I haven’t told you I’m sorry. I haven’t told you I… I love you. Don’t…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, just as there was a flutter of wings.

“Dean.”

Dean’s head snapped back around. “Cas, do something. Anything. Now.”

Castiel didn’t say anything just reached down, putting his hand over your abdomen as his hand glowed.

Dean didn’t even have the presence of mind to snap at Castiel for just getting here, even though he'd been praying all the way down here.

As the glow from Castiel’s healing powers died down, Dean glanced back at you, where you lay motionless. It was too late. You…

Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe, the pressure on his chest as heavy as if he was lying under a car. He couldn’t…

Your fingers closed around a few of Dean’s again, your eyes opening slowly, just staring back at Dean.

“Y/N…” Dean exhaled your name.

You glanced at Castiel. “Cas.”

Castiel just gave you a small smile. “I’m glad I got here in time.”

You looked back at Dean, seeing a range of emotions swimming in those green eyes of his along with unmistakable tears and you sighed. “Dean, if you’re still mad, I…”

Dean just pushed himself forward, never mind the blood surrounding you both on the ground and on your clothes, pressing his lips against yours gently in a tender kiss, the tears slipping down his face and onto yours.

“D…” You whispered, as he pulled away now.

Dean just smiled gently. “As long as you’re back.” He whispered. “I need you to argue with me for a long time more.”

You smiled and nodded. “If you’ll have me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Dean whispered back, before Sam and Bobby came running in again. Sam sighed in relief to see Castiel standing there, before he headed towards you and pulled you into a hug.

“Welcome back.” Sam whispered, his hand cradling the back of your head affectionately as Bobby just smiled at his kids.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

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#resa.3kfiestabingo #resa.fics #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #resanoona request #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester imagine #spn #supernatural #spn x reader #spn imagine #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #spn x you #spn x y/n

[spnexploration]

I've Got You

Happy birthday @iprobablyshipit91! I wrote a Protective!Dean one-shot for you (I'm hoping I got my timezones right...!)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Words: 740

You blearily opened your eyes. Your heart was thumping in your chest, your breathing panicked. You dizzily looked around you, a sense that you’d just been running from something but now didn’t know where it was. You couldn’t quite remember what it was that was after you, which was even more terrifying.

The room span. Or maybe your head did? You didn’t know.

“Hey, hey, you in there?” Something was touching your face. Repetitively. You couldn’t focus on it, over the feeling of the blood pumping in your ears and your hands shaking.

“Y/N! Y/N! Sweetheart, you with me?”

Suddenly you had a thought – was that the thing you were running from?! You tried to get away, but for some reason you couldn’t. You couldn’t seem to stand up, couldn’t seem to run. Your heartrate impossibly increased, again.

“She ok?”

“Eyes are open but I can’t get her to respond. I don’t think I’m getting through.”

You tried to move again. There was something after you, you had to get away! What kept stopping you?!

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart, you gotta stay still. We only just got the drip out of you.”

Someone was holding you! That’s why you couldn’t get away! You started to struggle: kicking, hitting, anything you could do to get out of their clutches.

“Fuck, Sammy! She’s freaking out. I can barely hold her. You got that new antidote yet?”

You couldn’t move your arm, they were holding it still! A sharp pain! What were they doing to you?! Your heart was about to leap out of your chest and gallop away, it could barely keep up with this pace.

You continued to thrash about in someone’s hold. Or was it two someones? There seemed to be a lot of touchpoints on you. You’d count them but you had to get away.

“How long’s it going to take to work?”

“I don’t know Dean, it’s not exactly an exact science mixing my own hybrid-Djinn antidote on the fly!”

You screamed. Maybe that would help.

“Come on sweetheart, you gotta come back to us, ok?”

Wait.

Was that Dean?

“De-Dean?” you stuttered. You couldn’t find him, you couldn’t tell one shape from another in front of your face. But you thought you’d heard him.

“Yes, sweetheart, I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

“What? Where? Why- why can’t I- what’s happening?!” You started to flail your arms in front of you, trying to get to Dean. Trying to get through the sea of shapes and colours in front of you that you hadn’t worked out what they were yet.

“Hey, hey, please stop, sweetheart,” Dean said, while hands tried to stop your arms. “You gotta calm down for me.”

“Where are you?!”

“I’m right here.” Something moved your hand and suddenly you felt stubble under your fingertips. “This is me, I’m right here.”

You blinked a few times. The shape. The shape in front of you. It was… Dean?

You stopped fighting.

“That’s it, that’s it, good job sweetheart. Can you see me now?” You nodded. “Ok, good. Now I need you to start calming down. Tell me something you can feel.”

“Umm, umm, my lungs.”

“Good, good. Tell me something you can see.”

“You.”

“Something you can hear.”

“My heart pumping.”

Dean chuckled, “Ok, we’re trying to calm that down. Let’s take some nice, deep breaths.” You did, feeling your breathing coming more under control. “That’s it, now we’re getting somewhere.”

“What- what happened?”

“Half-breed djinns. I think they mostly got you with the fear kind, but just enough of the original to let Sammy mix up an antidote.”

You remembered the fear, the running, the feeling of something after you. You started to shiver. Pretty quickly your whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

Dean started shifting position so that he was sitting on the floor. He nodded to Sam who held you up while he moved. Once Dean was in position, he reached out and pulled you onto his lap, encouraging you to lean against his chest. He wrapped his long arms around you and held you firmly.

You clutched the front of his flannel.

He gently stoked your head. “You're ok,” he murmured quietly. “I've got you. Sammy and I killed the djinn, it can't hurt you anymore. Nothing is after you, you're safe.”

You slowly relaxed against him. The shaking reduced, your breathing slowed to a normal rate.

He kissed your forehead, “I've got you, sweetheart.”

.

.

.

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[according2thelore]

oh IIII want a lesson in angst and torture!!!! me me me!!!!

seriously though that last ask was amazing and I love ESdean’s voice in it so much he’s perfect. and i think we would all be thrilled to read anything you wrote!!!

HAHAHA, well, ask and ye shall receive, anon!

this is in reference to one of my last posts, about LS!Sam&Dean setting up ES!Sam&Dean to see them kiss, and kickstart the conversation about...y'know. what's going on here? i originally misread the first anon's ask as "what if ES!Sam&LS!Dean walked in on LS!Sam&ES!Dean kissing"--a total switcharoo. full of angst and torture, as mentioned here. i wrote the whole thing and was about to click post, but re-read the prompt and kicked myself in the shins.

i don't consider this canon to the ES/LS verse i've written (can there be such a thing as "canon" when we're kickin' it like this, team?) i mention a little lower in this post why i think it wouldn't go down like this, but let's get into it!

i present: four men punching a wall and throwing up

it's been coming for a while. they all know it has.

the gestures between LS!Sam and ES!Dean have gotten more frequent as time has gone on--LS!Sam's hand on ES!Dean's back, ES!Dean watching LS!Sam with rapturous eyes as he explains one thing or another.

no one mentions it, but they've all caught the looks. ES!Dean will tap on the wheel of the jeep that LS!Dean let them borrow (and of which he reinstalled the spark plugs in a frenzy) and sing along to music, too young and happy to be self-conscious, and LS!Sam will watch him like he hung each individual star with the express intention of making sure LS!Sam likes them. 

ES!Dean will moan while taking a bite of pie at the diner up the road, and LS!Sam will have to suddenly and urgently use the bathroom, leaving ES!Sam shifting awkwardly at the table and LS!Dean trying not to slam his head through the window.

all this to say, it's not a surprise to anyone except ES!Dean when it happens.

and it's only a surprise to him, because he doesn't mean to do it.

they're out at the store, the first time it happens. ES!Dean's trying to convince LS!Sam to buy cereal that's literally just mini chocolate chip cookies. 

"c'mon, sammy!" dean cajoles, "it'll start your day off with a smile." 

LS!Sam rolls his eyes and puts the cereal back, high up enough on the shelf that dean can't even reach it. dean balks, because this is the first time that this has happened to him, ever.

"yeah, well i want you around past age fifty, so we're buying the fibre one." sam shakes the bland box at him with a sarcastic smile. "you and your healthy heart will have to deal." 

dean watches him put the box in the cart, and dean just...kisses him. 

dean immediately starts apologizing, a steady stream of Oh My Fucking God, I'm So Fucking Sorry Sam, Please Don't Tell the Others. I'm So Sorry. You're So Pretty, Sammy. All the Damn Time. I Can't Stop Looking At You. I Know I'm Not Your Dean, I Never Should Have. I Mean--Shit--I'm Your Brother--!

and LS!Sam shuts him up by kissing his dumbass again. ES!Dean squeaks. genuinely squeaks. the kiss is chaste and over in the time it takes to inhale.

"you are my dean." LS!Sam says, rolling his eyes. "come on, eggs are next." and strolls right away, leaving dean gasping for air in his wake.

dean is hooked. he's fucking addicted. 

LS!Sam doesn't even count it. the real first one, in his opinion, is the one in the kitchen.

ES!Dean is standing over the stove, stirring something with an intense set to his jaw. LS!Sam comes up behind him, and they talk for a few minutes about nothing in particular, about how their days have been, about what LS!Dean&ES!Sam have been up to. sam finally asks what he's making, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"mac and cheese," dean replies, looking a little nervous. "i--i can't stop worrying about" he gestures vaguely, frustrated pull in his brow. "your-past-my-future. but...y'know. i used to make you this when you were small." dean looks like he's going to implode with embarrassment. "we share this past. so. whatever."

LS!Sam grabs him on either side of his face, callused palms on freckled cheeks, and pulls him up into a kiss. dean melts against him immediately, kissing him frantically bc he thinks this is the last chance he'll get.

it's slow and hot and filthy, and sam's stubble burns dean's skin. it's been a long time since dean's kissed a man, and the fact that this man is sammysammysammysammy has dean shaking and grabbing at sam with big, desperate hands.

every kiss they trade after the fact, sam can't help but press down on the scar on his palm. it's been a while since he's needed it, but this feels too unreal: the ability to kiss a dean with a sharp tongue and adoring eyes and so much enthusiasm for life that sam could get high off of it. 

he spent decades lusting after this man, loving this man, that being able to love more than one version of him is almost too much to bear.

dean might notice the hand, but he doesn't comment on it. he's learned the hard way that some things about LS!Sam are inaccessible--they were created to be that way.

nothing too much changes the way they interact except the want is so much sharper, now. 

"goodnight, sammy," ES!Dean always says, leaning forward into LS!Sam's chest, hands at his sides, almost like he's afraid of being caught out for doing it. he noses against sam's collarbone, barely there, before swaying away again. 

sam then crawls into LS!Dean's bed, and kisses him hard. "i love you so fucking much" he wants to say--and maybe he does--and LS!Dean rolls his eyes and kisses him back and calls him a girl. but sam has tears in his eyes, so dean just tucks him under his arm and they go to sleep like that.

"did mini me prance through a field of flowers? or sneeze like a kitten?" dean mutters into the nape of sam's neck, but sam just turns over so he can tuck his nose under dean's jaw.

("he loves me" sam maybe says, completely overwhelmed, and maybe dean scoffs and says "fucking duh. he's me.")

he's addicted. they're both addicted. 

and while ES!Sam&LS!Dean have their suspicions, they don't know anything for certain. how would you even bring that up? especially for a ES!Sam&Dean that haven't had that conversation yet?

in my head, i'm hoping that ES!Sam&Dean have that conversation (led by much cajoling and almost entrapment by LS!Sam&Dean) before LS!Sam&ES!Dean start anything. a frantic kiss that LS!Sam pulls away from, telling him to talk about it with ES!Sam because ES!Sam&Dean's relationship is too important to LS!Sam for him to jeopardize it.

but, if LS!Sam&ES!Dean do start something, i think it would get out of hand.

and if LS!Dean&ES!Sam do find out, it's damning. 

ES!Dean leans over and kisses LS!Sam on the couch, and LS!Sam pulls him into his lap, slow. "i'm not a fuckin' girl," ES!Dean says, trying to hop off of him, but LS!Sam's hands almost cover his entire waist, and Dean forgets what he was going to say when LS!Sam kisses him. 

"what the fuck" from the doorway. the words are hollow. toneless.

ES!Sam is standing there, framed by the light from the hallway. he's shell-shocked, taking in ES!Dean half-crawled into LS!Sam's lap, their mussed hair, their swollen lips.

"what's wrong?" an urgent voice, and LS!Dean is standing behind him. 

silence. for a long, impossible second.

they start talking all at once.

No No No Sammy It's Not--I'm Not--He's--

and ES!Sam is a fucking inferno, because this is all wrong, it's so wrong. 

"he was mine!" ES!Sam screams, and LS!Sam pales. "we've been trapped here! you're disgusting--i--i can't believe you would--" his voice cracks, hard, and he turns around a leaves without another word.

LS!Dean doesn't say anything. but i imagine that it's almost as bad for him as it is for ES!Sam. because here sam is, being undeniably attracted and compelled towards this young, fresh, unscarred version of him. even though he gets it more than ES!Sam--because, Hell, he can't look away from ES!Sam either--that boy is so damn possessive that it's practically torture.

he leaves without a word.

ES!Dean has a full-tilt meltdown. he thinks the 'you're disgusting' is for him, and he can't look at himself, he can't look at LS!Sam, he's pacing the room looking like his world is falling apart.

"he's right," LS!Sam says, looking forlorn, and ES!Dean is three seconds away from blowing his own brains out. "he should've been the one to kiss you first." 

and ES!Dean lets out a bitter, hard laugh, like "he doesn't fucking want me, sam. don't bullshit me." 

but LS!Sam begs ES!Dean to talk this out with ES!Sam, running fingers over his jaw and his pushing him away gently with a hand in the middle of his chest. 

i think that because these boys can never talk for shit (and LS!Sam is talking a big game like he and LS!Dean communicate at all), it would take them a second to make up.

i think that it would be a lot of avoidance, and a lot of ES!Sam sleeping in different rooms. 

(in my head, i imagine that the ES!boys were given a room together with two double beds, at first bc they don't trust their surroundings and then bc they're just used to it)

ES!Dean is all levels of kicked-puppy injured, and ES!Sam is still just so furious and heartbroken because he was betrayed by TWO people here: his own older self, for swooping in and changing his relationship with his brother whether he was ready for that or not and also by ES!Dean, who will officially try to fuck everyone in the world except for ES!Sam.

he's capable of wanting sam, but not this sam, not you. you're the broken one here, the wrong one.

~~~

thank you for this ask, anon! i was (as mentioned previously) committing shin violence on myself for writing almost 1.6k words of the wrong prompt.

i hope you enjoy it! and EEE thank you for the ES!Dean voice comment, that makes me so happy to hear!

have a lovely day, anon, and i hope this lesson in angst and torture was better than an intro to engineering course, at the very least.

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #anon <3

[thewhumpcaretaker]

The Broken Veil: Chapter 2 - The Price to Pay

Special thanks to this Reddit post for helping me follow the canon timeline as faithfully as possibly until the points that they diverge.

TW: suicide attempt, negative self-talk, grief, dissociation, canon-typical violence

Summary: John Wick has just agreed to kill Gianna D'Antonio, repaying the marker that gave him a life with Helen. However, Helen is trying to contact John from the afterlife, to show him that it is possible to stop the cycle of violence – not by forfeiting his own life, but by creating a fundamental shift in international systems and perhaps even the balance of good and evil in this world. But he doesn’t have to do it alone. She’s coming back.

“Heathcliff, if I were you, I’d go stretch myself over her grave and die like a faithful dog. The world is surely not worth living in now, is it?” - Nelly Dean, Wuthering Heights

John sets the rose down quickly and glances around the room, as if he expects to see a ghost. But of course he doesn’t expect that. This can’t be happening.

Don’t try to figure out whether it’s happening. Think about the message. What does it matter whether it was Helen or not? The question is, if she really could hear him, would she accept his offering of love in this form? In the form of killing an old friend and handing a win to a man like Santino? In the form of deepening his own damnation? No. Offer not accepted.

But this is all I have to give. His fists clench in frustrated confusion as he sinks into a chair. He’s been lying to himself because he’s desperate, because he has nothing left. What do you want from me, Helen? The only other option I see is death. Maybe he should just take that instead. If someone has to give their life for the time he spent with her, it should be him. He never deserved her to begin with.

There’s no time for this. It’s almost 6 PM. He has less than two hours to get ready and get to the concert at the D’Antonio Estate. He’ll figure something out. Just go, and figure something out.

***

She tried to reach him over and over again.

She tried to reach him when he was taking a sledgehammer to the concrete in the basement.

She tried to reach him as he stalked Iosef to the Red Circle.

She tried to reach him whenever he thought of her.

She tried to reach him as he rampaged over that fucking car.

She tried to reach him every time she felt something slam almost fatally into his body, whether bullet or fist. And that was quite a few times.

But the time had not yet come. She can see pieces of things, and she knows that she will come to him in Rome if she comes at all. It’s a matter of gathering her strength, and perhaps something more important, more like timing. Or fate.

This was the closest attempt yet. She celebrates an enormous victory. It required proportionally enormous effort. But she will have to keep trying. “The only other option I see is death.” It would be so easy for John to get it into his head that she’s given up on him. If only she had some way to be more specific, to use her own words rather than stolen snippets from his surroundings, but words are almost impossible. Almost. They feel so close now.

She can hardly tell if she is more exhausted or excited or hopeful. She cannot tell if her exhaustion and excitement and hope are her own or John’s. But she is herself, she has a self. It is almost like…existing.

She keeps clawing forward, towards that surface, towards that glass. “Forward,” yes, “towards.” Direction. Motion. Location. Effort. These are returning to her.

***

Sheer dread. It’s bad to go into a job not knowing whether you plan to finish it. It’s beyond bad. It’s lunacy. But he’s wearing hundreds of thousands of dollars in other people’s money just between the suit and the weapons, which feel suddenly heavy. There’s a good chance Santino’s people are watching, to keep him in line. To walk away at this stage…the humiliation alone is formidable, let alone the logistical challenges. And why? Because a ghost told him to - maybe. It’s lunacy. No. Finish it. Or at least keep clawing forward in denial for as long as possible.

His mouth is dry as he stalks towards the unguarded gate to the catacombs under the D’Antonio Estate, a hulking, dark shadow in time with the eight o'clock church bells. On autopilot, he places guns throughout the ruined tunnels, to collect on the way back after she’s dead. Distant music filters down through the rubble and stone. What he is doing now…this is a part of the kill. The kill is in progress. What the fuck is he going to do when he’s standing in front of the target?

He sees her, moving towards her chambers, and follows. Cassian, her bodyguard, walks at her side. He knows Cassian too – another old friend. Their gaits are easily attuned and their glances a little more tender than the role requires. And John…John is here to sever the link between them, to plunge her into the abyss where Cassian can never see her again. At the very least, Cassian should be spared if he can make it happen.

It’s his luck that she dismisses him from her side as she goes to her boudoir.

***

And Gianna is alone.

She circles the luxurious pool surrounded by aromatic candles, thinking over the day, allowing herself to slip into a moment of relaxation as she dabs at her makeup…and she sees John Wick in the mirror.

His body is perfectly poised; there is no feature of his expression that could be deemed any more or less composed than any other. Yet there is something profoundly and openly…embarrassed about the way he carries himself. Its total detachment betrays a sore spot to detach from. The way he waits to speak, arms hanging at his sides…if he were not about to end her life, she would say he looked sheepish.

“John.” The way she says it sounds like, “No, god, no.”

“Gianna.”

She turns to face him. “There was a time not so long ago in which I considered us as friends.”

“I still do.” He steps smoothly around the pool, making no effort to conceal the pistol in his hand.

“Yet here you are. [In Italian] Death’s very emissary.” She surveys him, all in black, his feet planted. “What brought you back, John?”

He places the words in front of her, more than speaks. “A marker.”

“Held by?”

He looks almost pained. “Your brother.” There’s pity for her…no, there’s real sorrow for her.

She glances away. Anger can’t rise too far in her, because of course this was coming. She should have known. The only thing to do now is to face it fighting. She paces closer to him and meets his gaze head on. “Tell me, John. This marker…is it how you got out?” A nod. “And what was her name? This woman whose life has ended my own?” She laces her voice with more disdain than she truly feels.

“Helen.” As always, a bitter joy stirs in him, just to say it. There’s wonder in that word.

“Helen,” Gianna repeats, lightly, almost mockingly. His head tilts as if he wants desperately to turn away from her, as if it pains him to hear say it like that. Yes, this is the right spot to hit. “This Helen,” as she casually approaches him even closer, within arm’s length now, “was she worth the price that you now seek to pay?”

It’s too difficult for him to speak and she gets another nod. How nice. “Now, let me tell you what happens when I die. Santino will lay claim to my seat at the Table. He will take New York. And you,” glancing up and down him in disgust, “will have been the one who gifted it to him.” Now her disdain is real and she lets him read all of it, then turns and walks back to the mirror.

She throws off her fur coat. His half squint seems to beg for mercy. If she would take a swing at him, if she would run, this would be so much easier. But she has no intention of making this easy for him. She lets her glittering gown slip to the floor, restraining the movement of his eyes, which lock respectfully onto her face. Slowly, she circles up the steps above the pool, and looks vulnerably over her shoulder at his unmoving figure, letting her curls fall to the center of her back. “What would your Helen think about that, John?” He walks towards her involuntarily. He’s afraid of what she might do. Good.

She takes up her concealed knife, and wades into the pool. He looks desperate, circling her as if hypnotized. She can see his longing to stop this. She turns away from him, totally exposed to gunfire, then looks abruptly back over her should, hovering the knife above her wrist. “What would your Helen think about you?”

It cuts deeper than her knife ever could.

“Stop.” She can’t quite believe it. He is too well trained – why would he let her get under his skin? This is her way of fighting back in her final moments, but for it to work…well, that’s almost a disappointment. More likely, this is a trick.

“So you can do it yourself?” He shakes his head. What a puppy. He looks utterly at a loss, and she can see now how fast he’s breathing. The moment stretches forever.

“I asked her what she would think.” He reaches into his breast pocket…and pulls out an orange rose. “Early today, I burned this rose as a symbol of the kill. Now it is whole again.”

Gianna looks at him in confusion, in pity. He’s lost his mind. Losing Helen destroyed him.

He places the rose on the surface of the pool, turns, and he’s walking away.

Her voice echoes down the stone archways after him. “John! You are prepared to face your death?” He stops. “You know what it means to deny the marker.”

“The price that I now seek to pay…is one life. Mine.”

Tragic, what has happened to this once-vicious man. She opens her mouth to speak, to call him back to his senses as she would want someone to do for her if she was ever so debased by love, but self-preservation halts her. Let him walk.

He walks.

***

It's a short walk out of the catacombs, into the palatial concert venue where strobing spotlights rise from the ruins into the blackness of night. There are so many people. Dancers in their 20s, old widows with grandchildren at home, couples, politicians, musicians. The sight of them is suddenly unbearable. He just stands there, still too close to the archway leading into the restricted access area in the catacombs.

“What would your Helen think of you?”

“Offer not accepted.”

The surprise on Gianna’s face, the relief, the purity of walking away…It drives home to him how much wrong he’s done. How many times he didn’t walk away.

I’m a murderer. I’m nothing but a murderer, and she would never accept it. I failed her. I can’t even bring myself to regret them all. Iosef, Viggo…but then so many of my own friends. And strangers. Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers… How many people…? So many bodies… I don’t know how many people I’ve killed. Most men on this Earth haven’t killed even once and would never forget it.

He hates that a man like that has ever laid eyes on Helen. He hates that he’s ever touched her with the hands that he’s seen around so many throats, gouging out eyes, pulling triggers…over and over again, so many times that it’s muscle memory. He hates, and it makes him want to kill. He wants to kill, and he can’t.

He can’t kill others. But himself…a man may do what he likes with his own life.

John walks slowly forward. The world is glazed over with dissociation and the music is so far away. Is anything real? That stage, a kaleidoscope of lights. What a strange stage. That depthless black sky. What a strange sky. Has he really done all those things?

Did Helen really return the rose?

Are these people around him the people that he’s killed? People that he will kill?

“John?”

He’s pulled back to himself. “Cassian.”

“You working?” Cassian’s face says he sure as hell hopes not.

He hesitates. It might as well be Cassian. He’d rather die by the hand of a man in love than by the hand of Santino’s men. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a long, horrible pause. “Good night?” Is she dead?

“Afraid so.” That will piss him off enough to fire.

There’s rage in Cassian’s eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He fires. John fires back at the same instant, knowing the body armor will hold. It’s a mere opening threat but it still hurts enough to level them both instantly to the ground. Pain shoots through his abdomen and awakens something in him. He scrambles backward and runs. Other guards are helping Cassian to his feet and he turns the other way, running for Gianna.

John doesn’t question why he’s running, or why he’s still clinging to his gun. All he knows is that the adrenaline has hit, sickening, sweet, instinctual, pulling him back into his body. God, he’s so afraid to die.

The guards pursue him. Cold metal in his hands as he vaults over a railing into the back of the stage. Get back to the gate, across the crowd. They’re on him as he stumbles forward onto the stage, he puts one down. The crowd goes wild, thinking it’s part of the show. He jumps down and he’s firing among them now, guards are falling dead in their midst. Screams drown in the techno beat. Dashing forward into an open stretch, almost to the gate, but they close around him from all sides. One, two, three, four, five, six dead as he pushes through, relentless.

He takes cover against a ruined wall to reload. Almost there. A gun swings around the corner into his face and he fires on instinct, then keeps firing at the next, then at four more coming at him from the side, flipping bodies to the ground, holding a man’s head flush against the gun to ensure he stays down. No one has eyes on him now as he lays against the wall taking shelter in the shadows, a monster at one with the darkness, too wired to bother quieting his ragged breathing. The catacombs leading to the gate are right across from him. He looks both ways and plunges forward into the near darkness of the tunnel, pierced only by periodic floodlights for safety.

For a moment, he’s still spinning with the gun at eye level, hyper-vigilant, but the tunnel’s empty. He’s alone. Finally, he allows himself to groan in pain and clutch at his own chest, stumbling backwards, miserable. At his touch, crushed rounds fall from the bulletproof lining and scatter, tinging on the rocky floor.

He killed again. He’s bad at not killing, and it’s not the sort of thing you get to try and fail at. He failed immediately. He panicked, and he didn’t want to let go of her memory, and he killed. The cost of his existence is other people’s lives, and he doesn’t have the willpower to stop it.

He feels worse than he did after walking away from Gianna. Lower than low.

The tide of reality is going out again. This is bad. He’s in a stone tunnel under the D’Antonio estate, but is he? Or is he in a misty void? Are these his arms, his hands? Is he hallucinating that strange vastness that opens out beyond the dark? Not even a vastness, but…a region without space, without distance or time. He sees it as if through glass.

He beats at his vest where the bruises are already forming, trying to flood himself with another hit of adrenaline. It’s just enough to get him walking again, staggering along the escape route he memorized a few hours ago, forward into that depthless region fazing in and out around him.

There’s someone standing in his path. Ares. The two size each other up at a great distance, a skylight pouring a street lamp’s yellow fire across them from above.

Santino must have sent someone to eliminate him if he doesn't follow through. He calls to her, “I’m done. For good.”

“You’re right about that.”

A long pause. Then his gun clatters to the ground and he drops to his knees. “I accept my fate.”

“You of all people?”

He nods.

Ares squints suspiciously but she raises her pistol. She fires.

Author's note: If that got you down, don't worry - the comfort is coming soon.

#john wick #john wick fanfic #john x helen #john wick whumpee #gianna d’antonio #whump fic #emotional whump #angst #hurt/no comfort #assassin whumpee #ao3 crosspost

[sdktrs12]

“Stop talking and take off your clothes.”  & “How do you want it?” for the brio prompt 🤍

canon divergence, set somewhere in season two -

It had been Annie’s suggestion, which should’ve been the first red flag to signal what a terrible idea this was.  

But Beth had always been bad with red flags.  

(Just look at who she was married to.) 

Annie’s idea that basically boiled down to Beth “finally getting some from someone who actually knows what they’re doing because it’s what you deserve”.  

Of course, after a long night out drinking with no promising prospects, Beth had ended up home alone.  

Or rather, home alone until Rio had popped up.  

It had taken far fewer text exchanges with Annie than she would have thought for her sister to suggest she “just jump gangfriend’s bones”. 

The idea had unfortunately stuck, that very scenario having played out in her mind more times than she could count (or would admit to).

And all it had taken was one simple text message to summon him and he’d magically appeared, looking far more relaxed than she felt.  

But now that she had him here, getting him horizontal was proving rather...difficult.  

Admittedly, she was a bit off her game, as she was in fact very drunk and it had been quite a while since she’d actually had to...seduce anyone, so to speak.  

Rio was proving an exceptionally challenging subject, as he seemed more amused by her vague advances than anything, which was just... 

Great. 

“Annie thinks we should have sex.” Beth finally decides to announce, a nervous giggle escaping as she pours herself a drink that she definitely doesn’t need, but feels appropriate to the situation she’s just put herself in. It feels like a safe bet, putting the blame on her sister while also throwing the idea out there and seeing where it sticks. She takes a deep breath as she picks up the glass and moves around the kitchen island to stand in front of where Rio is currently seated. 

“Is that so?” He asks, settling himself back into his seat, shirt slightly riding up as he does so, looking entirely too comfortable in her home.

“It is.”

He reaches out and takes the glass from her and she thinks about protesting for half a second before deciding it’s probably not a bad idea to cut herself off. “You’re drunk.” He helpfully points out, eyes glistening with mirth as he brings the glass up to his lips and takes a long drink.  

Beth nods sagely in agreement at that, because yes, she very much is. “I was out with the girls earlier. It was a long night.” 

“Mhm. And where your girls at now? Shouldn’t they be here, makin’ sure you’re safely tucked into bed?” 

“They said I was being too picky about my options. They’re the ones who told me to call you.” Beth pokes her finger into his chest, dragging it down a few inches, surprised at how soft the material of his shirt is.  

“Oh, I was your fallback? That’s cold darlin’.”  

Beth shrugs her shoulders, gaze focused on her finger as she continues to drag it down his shirt, swaying forward a bit when it stops at the belt buckle peeking out between the hem and his jeans.  

“What about that husband a’ yours? Where’s he at?” 

Beth snaps out of her daze at the mention of Dean, eyebrows furrowing as she quickly brings her hand up, pressing her finger to Rio’s lips instead. Her eyes widen, another giggle threatening to escape as she fully processes what she’s just done, but there’s no turning back now. So, she pushes forward, lips pursing as she shushes him. There’s only the slightest wobble to her stance when she very firmly tells him, “I just told you that we should have sex. I was expecting less talking and more...taking off each other’s clothes.” 

Beth yelps in protest when Rio’s response is to nip at her finger and she yanks it back, almost smacking herself in the face in the process.

“Ouch?” She says, stunned but doubtful as to any actual pain as she carefully inspects her fingertip for blood. She squints, trying to focus, but it’s all blurry and movement out of the corner of her eye draws her attention back to Rio, who is pushing the stool back to stand.  

“You bit me.” Beth accuses, feeling a little breathless at how tall he is, at how close he is, as she cranes her neck back to look up at him. She feels the shift in her body, how off balance she is, but before she can even think to react, Rio’s hands are firm and steady at her waist, anchoring her in place. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes?” She repeats, confused at his sudden affirmation, every cell in her body hyper focused on his proximity and the heavy feel of his hands wrapped around her.  

“I bit you.” He patiently reminds her and Beth’s lips part as she nods her head, suddenly caught in how soft and patient his eyes are in this very moment.   

“Oh. Right. What’re you like a vampire or something?” 

“Sure.” 

The skin around his eyes crinkles as he smiles and Beth can’t help but respond in kind, a smile playing at her own lips as she leans into him, hands coming out to tentatively spread out across his chest, fingers flexing against the soft fabric of his t-shirt once again. 

“So, how—” Beth pauses, taking a deep breath in before swallowing, hard. They’d gotten this far, might as well follow the whole way through. “—how do you...want it?”  

His gaze turns serious this time as he seems to finally be considering her proposition and when he ducks his head down a moment later, she thinks, finally this is it, he’s going to kiss her, but he misses her mouth completely, curving around to her ear instead and she frowns in confusion until he says, “Aight, alchy, this has been fun and all, but I think it’s time to call it a night, yeah?” before using the hands at her waist to gently turn her around and guide her toward her room. 

And...okay, so that could have gone better.  

“You’re going to tuck me in?” She asks, leaning her head back to bat her eyelashes up at him and this time she does laugh, she can’t help it, she feels so stupid, and thank god she won’t remember any of this in the morning.  

“Sure.” 

And he does just that, making sure she gets safely into bed... 

And she doesn’t remember any of it come morning. 

Thanks so much for sending, anon! 💕 [prompts.]

#asks #fanfiction #writing #beth x rio #brio #good girls nbc #prompts #writing silly season two nonsense is my fav

[crashdevlin]

Remembering

Author’s Note: This is part Thirty-two of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: John helps Y/n call upon the only beings powerful enough to help her.

Pairing: none

Word count: 4116

Story Warnings:  angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, reader illness, reader amnesia, memories of non-con, memories of abuse

~~~

“What are we doing?” you asked, shaking your head as you watched John Winchester dig a hole in your back garden with his hands.

“You need to take the drachma out of the necklace,” he instructed, absentmindedly gesturing toward you with his dirt-covered left hand.

“But why?” It seemed like complete nonsense to you. Why was he digging a hole and why did he need your special drachma? You pulled the necklace off and unclipped the glass case holding the coin anyway, dropping the silver into your palm and looking over at him.

“The drachma was a gift to you from Hades and Persephone. I figure a pagan god might be able to either get your memories back or find a way to get Dean back.”

You looked at him for a minute, blinking slowly as the words sank in. “Hades and Persephone?”

He nodded, still not looking at you as he piled soil to the side of the hole. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a long story, but they saved you from Hell when you sold your soul for Dean. They’re the reason you got your first second chance.” He stood, wiping his hands on his jeans as he turned to you. “You just need to bury it. Hades should show up.”

“Are-are you sure?” You rubbed the coin between your fingers, fear falling over you. “I have had this almost all of my life. I don’t want to mess it up or-”

“Dirt won’t hurt it…and calling on them didn’t do any damage last time you did it,” John assured you, covering your hand with his own and looking down into your eyes. “I promise that it’s going to be okay.”

“Oh…okay.” You nodded and stepped away from him, toward the hole. You took a steadying breath as you dropped the coin into the spot and swept dirt over it.

“It has been far too long, louloudi mou.” You gasped at the deep voice with the slightly Greek accent and twisted. He was tall and well-muscled with a thick, dark beard, dressed in a deep blue hoodie and jeans. His presence was overwhelmingly alpha and yet…comforting in the strangest way. Hades’ eyes moved from you to John and back. "You have no sign of recognition. Do you not know me, Y/n?"

"I'm sorry." You shook your head. "I...I guess, um, my memories were altered?" You looked to John for support as the larger alpha's eyebrows rose.

“Death went digging in her brain,” John answered for you. “He was trying to give her a fresh start, which he did, but it wasn’t worth it.”

Hades sighed and reached out to touch your shoulder. Part of you wanted to flinch away from the touch, as he was a stranger to you, but the comfort in his presence made you stay stalwart. “Y/n. All that was you has been taken?”

There was so much concern and caring in his words and in his eyes that you felt yourself calming down completely. “Not…not all of me…I don’t think?”

“She’s still in there. Her memories have just been hidden, buried under a lifetime of false ones.” John cleared his throat as he stepped closer to Hades. “She’s shown that she’s still there, and she can still fight, and she’s…”

“She’s sick.” The god’s head tilted as he examined you. “There is disease in your loins.” The fear flooded back for a minute, but then his hand tightened its grip on your shoulder. “Louloudi mou, you have been through so much. Do you truly want to remember it all?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’m not right. I’m not me. I need to be me so that I can get Dean back.”

“You do not remember Dean. Why do you feel you need to get him…back?”

You cleared your throat and let out a shaky breath. “He’s in Purgatory. He’s living in fear and pain. I can feel it.”

“She’s been dreamin’ of him since she’s been-”

“Dreaming of both of them,” you interrupted.

“You are connected to them, yes. You would be dreaming of them. It is inevitable.” Hades nodded and stepped back. “If you have called upon me to mine the memories out of the mountain of falsities the Horseman created, I fear I will be forced to disappoint you. This is beyond my capabilities.”

“What about Mnemosyne?” you asked, a bit desperately. “Can you just try and get her to-”

“Ah. You haven’t forgotten your lore, then?” The god smiled and nodded. “I can call upon Mnemosyne. The Titanis is a bit inconsistent and there is no guarantee of her acquiescence to the request. In fact, she might be more apt to agree if Persephone were to ask,” he said thoughtfully.

“And if she won’t help…can you, at least, help us get Dean out of Purgatory?” John asked.

Hades didn’t even look at him; his eyes focused on you entirely as he gave a singular nod. “Yes. I will get your mate back.”

“He’s not my-” you began, and Hades laughed. It was loud and stopped you in your tracks.

“You are, indeed, still in there, Y/n, because that is the same lie you used to tell me in the Underworld. I will return, hopefully with the assistance you require.”

He disappeared in an instant, leaving you staring at an empty garden. You turned to John and let out a shaky sigh. "So…what now?"

He smiled. "Now, we have a beer and wait."

You nodded and dropped to your knees to get the drachma back. "I have beer…but I think whiskey might suit the situation better."

John chuckled, heading inside. “There’s a hunter in you, after all.”

“Bottle’s above the fridge!” you called as you wiped the drachma on your pants and held it up to ensure you’d gotten all the dirt off it. You slipped the coin back into the necklace and sighed. Why was everything so crazy all of a sudden? You licked your lips as you walked into your home to see John pouring two glasses of whiskey. “Make it a double.”

“Of course,” he said, pouring more into both glasses.

~~~

“So I was in a relationship with Dean?” you asked.

John shrugged. “A bit.”

“What does that mean?” you asked, a bit miffed at the evasive answer.

Before he downed the rest of his whiskey, he seemed to contemplate which words to use. “You were in love. For years, you were both in love. Everyone could see it, but Dean was so scared that he would hurt you, and you were so tired of being treated like you were…disposable?”

“What?” You shook your head, not understanding. “What do you mean, ‘disposable’?”

John ran his hand down his face and sighed. “Look, you guys loved each other. You slept with all of us…mostly from necessity, but you were in love with Dean. And you-”

“Why would Death take me and make me into someone else?” you interrupted, sipping at your drink.

“You…weren’t happy.” He cleared his throat. “Things with Dean were rocky. Sam was a bit of an issue…always.”

Your eyebrows came together. “Why was Sam an issue? Sam was my best friend before he went off to Stanford.”

John hesitated, avoiding your eyes by looking at his lap. “Sam lost his mind a bit a few years ago. He hurt you.”

“Hurt me, how?” you pressed.

He sighed and you got the feeling he didn’t really want to go into detail for you. “It’s very complicated, Y/n. There are alternate timelines and death and resurrection and a nasty little demon bitch that got Sam addicted to her blood and-”

“Her blood?” The very idea of someone consuming demon blood in any manner was shocking.

John nodded. “Yeah.” He looked up and cleared his throat. “Do you really wanna know all this? Or do you wanna wait until your memories are fixed?”

You shrugged. Part of you wanted to know, but part of you wanted to keep the bliss of ignorance a little bit longer. “It was that bad, huh?”

“Bad enough that you wanted to forget half of your life to get rid of it.”

You couldn’t imagine what sweet Sammy had done that was so horrible. You couldn’t imagine him hurting you at all. “Yeah. I’m…not sure I want to know yet.”

“I would always choose to know, agapite mou. Knowledge is the only way to move forth,” a sweet, lovely voice said.

You turned to look up at the most beautiful woman you’d ever laid eyes upon, standing next to Hades and a large blonde woman. You stood, feeling warmth in your heart as you gazed up at the brunette. “Persephone?”

“I wish that were not a guess, dear girl,” Persephone said, smiling sadly as she walked forward. “But my cousin has graciously agreed to work her wonders on you.”

The blonde stepped forward as John stood, a coldness in her stance and voice. “Are you worth this?”

“Mnemosyne.” Hades’ voice was a warning.

She rolled her eyes and gestured at the chair you vacated before walking over to stand behind it. Persephone nodded in encouragement and smiled at you, so you sat down.

“Is this gonna be safe?” John asked.

“Is safety something you take stock in, asudden?” Hades asked.

“Point taken.”

Hands covered your eyes, taking your vision with darkness.

~~~

“Do you really want to know?” John’s voice echoed in your head. Opening your eyes, you found yourself in Bobby’s study, lying on the sofa. You sat up and looked over at the only other person in the room. It was John, but he looked so much younger than he did before you fell asleep. Maybe 25 years old. He looked handsome…and you weren’t sure why that didn’t upset you. “You can stay ignorant. You have the option to stay happy.”

“I’m not happy.”

“You only think that because I told you you weren’t happy. Come on. I’m a man you barely remember; a man your father told you to stay away from.”

You shook your head and stood. You could tell this wasn’t John. This was a memory or a representation. “John, or whoever you are, I might not be able to remember you, but I remember your sons. I remember Dean…and if I’m going to die soon, I need to get him back from Purgatory.”

“So you’ve got cancer. Big fucking deal. People survive the big C every day.” It was so nonchalant and cavalier. It didn’t seem right coming from him. “Why don’t you take your chances with the doctors and chemo?”

You scoffed. “No. I’m sorry, but no. Dean needs me.”

“Okay, fine. Where do you wanna start?” You turned behind you to see Sam Winchester standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He was young, too, maybe 22. He stepped away from the partition and ran his hand through his hair. “Because there’s a lot, Y/n, and I’m not just talkin’ about what we did to you. I’m talking about Hell.”

You swallowed as fear rose in you like a lava flow. “Hell?”

He nodded, a small smirk on his lips. “Hell. You know…downstairs.” Sam pointed at the floorboards. “Fire, brimstone, torture. I’m talking about a distortion of time that made it seem like hundreds of years while demons carved chunks out of you over and over with no sign of relief.” He stepped closer and the smirk turned into a sad, tight smile. “You don’t want to remember that, Y/n.”

“No. I don’t. But…”

“You have to.” Sam shook his head, his fluffy hair swaying a bit. “I get it. You don’t know who you are because you think there’s so much of you missing.”

“There is a lot-”

“Death replaced all of it. Everything he took away, he replaced, Y/n,” Sam insisted. There was an insistence in his voice, a sadness in his eyes. He seemed so much like the boy you remembered that you couldn’t help but wonder what became of him after he came back into your life. What was he hiding? “He took away your pain. He gave you a normal life. Don’t invite the pain back.”

“It’s done, Sam. I’m here. I know that I’m missing pieces. I can’t go back to pretending! So where do we start?!” you exploded. “What did you do to me, Sam Winchester? Why did I forget you?”

He sighed and dropped to the couch you woke up on, sprawling his long legs out and scratching at his head. “You know, I knew you loved my brother the moment I saw you two together. There was so much tension and neither of you would say why but I saw it. It was a few months after I got back into hunting and I was still broken up about Jessica so it didn’t feel like I was losing much when I noticed the way you looked at him in the diner.” He shook his head in exasperation. “You wouldn’t say it, because of course you wouldn’t, and Dean couldn’t see it because he thinks he’s garbage, but I saw it. And I…I ignored it. Because it only took one smell of you when you went into heat for me to remember how much your scent used to turn me on. I wanted you, Y/n, and something in me…that deep, dark, controlling, angry part of me that Azazel put in me when I was a baby…it told me I could take you.”

A flash of sickly yellow eyes went through your mind at the name ‘Azazel,’ and you gasped. Memories of torture and hellfire welled up and turned to nausea in your chest.

“Dean didn’t make it difficult, really,” Sam continued. “He practically threw you at me. You didn’t want me. You didn’t love me, but…I took you, anyway. Every chance I got.”

A quick succession of images went through your mind: you and Sam in an apple orchard, you and Sam kissing beside Dean’s hospital bed, you and Sam in the back of the Impala. You looked away at Bobby’s desk, hoping to find comfort in the stacks of books and clutter.

“But then you went to Hell. You went to Hell for Dean, and that burned me up inside, ya know? It would have been one thing if you’d just gotten killed for him. God knows we’ve had enough of that in our lives, but you, you sentenced yourself to unimaginable torture for him…and you did it with a smile on your lips because you thought he deserved to live more than you did. Dean paid it forward to me, wanted me to live because he just couldn't live with me gone." You chewed on your bottom lip and let out a huffing sigh. “You got back just in time to fail to save him, and I thought you would be mine after he went down. You should have been mine after he went down, but you fled, and you fell apart, and you left me to fall apart alone. I was alone! Of course, I wound up in a relationship with Ruby!” His words were filled with accusation and blame.

Blond hair and red lips flashed in your mind. Brown hair and pretty eyes. Blood covering Sam’s mouth. A wild look in his eyes.

A memory hit you like a Mack truck.

“You marked me!” you accused right back.

“I had to!” He jumped up, anger rolling off of him. He looked older, his body thicker and more alpha than before. “You were supposed to be mine, and you were being disrespectful by denying me!”

You scoffed at the idea that he had to mark you to make you respect his imagined claim to you. “Are you kidding me?! You bit me! I had to turn to your father to curb my heats! I-”

“You were mine! Dean was in Hell! You had no reason to deny me anymore!”

“I obviously did! You forced me to be your mate like we were back in the 17th century! Am I not a human being to you?!”

“You’re not really a human being to any of us, honestly.” You turned your attention to the kitchen where Dean Winchester was leaning against the counter, a coffee mug in his hand. “I mean, whether we love you or just want you, the Winchesters historically don’t do well with seeing you as more than just an omega.”

Your heart fell a bit as you walked toward the kitchen. “Dean, I-”

“You’re lookin’ good, Y/n…, but you’re not doin’ too good, are you?”

You swallowed. “I’m sick, but…that’s not a big deal. I’m…looking for you. I’m…”

He smiled a little and reached back to set the mug on the counter. “I appreciate it. I spent a long time looking for you before I got stuck in Purgatory, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, you don’t have to do this. I’m not worth throwing away your perfect life.”

“My life’s not perfect. I’m not happy.”

“You keep sayin’ that, but why do you trust my dad over your own heart, huh? You thought you were happy before you got sick, and he showed up, right?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and looked across the kitchen at you. “Dad’s not any more trustworthy than Sam or me. You cut him out of your life before too.”

You swallowed thickly and chewed on your bottom lip for a second before taking a deep breath. “Why? What did John do?”

“What do you think he did? Remember what we told you about him when we were growing up. What do you think he did to you?” You looked down at the ugly tile floor. Dean’s boots entered your vision as you thought about it. The biggest complaints the boys had about their father were neglect and abuse. “So you’re going to take the word of an abusive piece of shit like John Winchester over your own emotions? You’re not that dumb, kid.”

“I knew something was missing,” you whispered. “I knew something wasn’t right. I…” You looked up, getting caught in his beautiful eyes. “He cares about me. John didn’t mean to hurt me.” You knew that in your heart.

“You know…he never meant to hurt me, either, or Sammy. But he did, didn’t he? He hurt everyone he ever came across. He left a trail of bodies a mile wide, and we just let him get away with it. Why are you so determined to be a body on the pile, Y/n?”

“It’s not for John…it’s for you.” You looked away. “Ya know what, though? John did horrible things, but he has also saved a lot of lives.” You looked back up into his eyes. “We’ve all done horrible things! We’re hunters, Dean! There’s been collateral damage, broken hearts and destroyed lives. There’s a few hundred people that probably think we’re the worst thing that ever happened to them, and that is no one’s fault. It is the nature of the job!”

“You’re making a mistake,” Sam said, forcing your attention to the study again. He was younger again, his face sad. “You can still be normal. Don’t you know what I would give to be normal, Y/n? Anything. Everything. I would sacrifice-”

“I don’t want normal; I want Dean!” you exploded.

“Your choice is made,” echoed through the house.

~~~

You gasped as your eyes snapped open. You looked across the room at John, Hades, and Persephone. Your emotions were a tempest, and you were exhausted. The trio looked hopeful, but there was little hope in your heart. Everything hurt. All of the memories that Death had so carefully hidden from your consciousness were warring at the forefront of your mind now.

“Did it work?” John asked, stepping around Hades. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down and bursting into tears. “Welcome back, baby girl.” He seemed to understand that it wasn’t necessarily the joyous occasion that it might have been.

“Are you well?” Hades asked, walking up and taking your hands as Mnemosyne walked around to stand beside her cousin.

You shook your head. “I’m as well as I can be…” You sniffled and chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “I’m…me, I guess.”

“Thank God.” John rushed forward and hugged you, but you just shook your head before pushing him away lightly.

“We need to get ready to go.”

“Wait. We need to-” he started, but you stepped backward.

“We brought me back so that we could save Dean! We have to go to Purgatory!”

“Breathe, agapite mou,” Persephone said, walking over and taking your hands in hers. Every motion was meant to be calming and soothing. “You’re feeling overly emotional.”

“You asked for this, mortal. Your mind tried to shield you but you would not heed.”

You turned to glare at Mnemosyne. “I also asked for what Death did to me!” You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself as you focused on Hades’ bearded face. “I’m sorry. I’m just…overwhelmed. I’m sorry. I asked for all of this.”

John walked forward and wrapped his arms around you. “You need to take some time and come back to yourself, darlin’.”

“No. We need to go to-”

Hades grabbed your shoulders, easily wrenching you from John’s grasp and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Listen to my wife, my girl. You need to breathe.”

You took a deep breath at his urging, resting your head against his chest as you worked to calm yourself. It wasn’t until you let out the second long exhale that you started to sob into his chest. “It’s so hard!”

Hades rubbed his hand up and down your back until you stopped crying. “Is that better, louloudi mou?”

You sniffled as you stepped back away from him. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…show weakness.”

“You’re allowed to cry,” John said, stepping up.

“No. There’s so much-”

He shook his head. “There’s been some hard facts that you had to find out over the last few hours. You are allowed.”

You wiped at your eyes and sighed. “I’m fine.” You cleared your throat. “Let’s go get ready to head out.”

“We have to talk about that, actually,” John said, looking between the god and goddess of the Underworld.

A cold feeling fell over you as Hades nodded solemnly. “What?”

“Only one of us can cross into Purgatory.” Your face fell as John licked his lips. “It takes a lot of power to get there and Hades can’t take us both.”

“No.” You shook your head. It was a blow you couldn’t deal with. Only one of you heading into Purgatory? Trying to navigate that place with no support was going to be Hell. “N-no. We need-”

“I’ll go,” John volunteered. “He’s my son and I should be the one to-”

“No. Are you stupid?” you snapped. You scratched at your scalp and looked away, feeling ashamed at letting your emotions continue to be wild. “I am dying of cancer. You need to stay here and protect the people here. I will take my dying ass to somewhere worse than Hell and get your son back.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to Hades. “I’m going to grab some equipment and then you can take me.” Hades just nodded without a word, so you went into a rush to grab a camping bag, provisions, and a hunter’s toolkit that Bobby gave you. Even your other self kept a hold of that kit.

“You’re not dying,” John said when you emerged from the back of the house. He seemed resigned, not trying to keep you from going. “You’re sick, but you aren’t dying.”

“I have cancer, John,” you said, matter-of-factly. “I’m dying.” You turned to Hades and smiled tightly. “Let’s go.”

“You will survive that, just as you will survive Purgatory, louloudi mou.” You reached out and took Hades’ offered hand and the world swirled around you. A grey and brown forest appeared. “There is an exit. To the South, there is an exit, just for humans to escape Purgatory. Find Dean and take him to the door.”

You nodded, adjusting your backpack straps and looking around. “Thank you so much.”

“This land is filled with monsters, Y/n. Care for yourself.”

“I will. Thank you.”

As Hades disappeared, you took a deep breath, hoping that you could calm the intense feeling of being watched. As you looked around the trees surrounding you, you knew that feeling was going nowhere, because you were being watched by every set of eyes in Purgatory.

#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!john #angst #canon divergence

[quietwings-fics]

ask and ye shall receive

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Gen (Jo & Sam, Lucifer & Sam) Additional Tags: Minor Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Hellhounds, Jo Harvelle Lives, Angel Healing, Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope… (Supernatural), Blood and Injury, Guilt, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Character Death Wordcount: 1866 Summary:

Sam is going to save Jo’s life, whatever the cost.

It’s watching Jo bleed out that forces Sam to make his decision. Surrounded by the makeshift bombs they’re creating, with hellhounds growling at the doors, and it’s Sam’s fault, like everything is. Sam’s fault and Sam’s to fix, whatever cost comes with that, because he can’t let Jo die. He watches the way she smiles weakly for Ellen before her mother turns, and her expression crumples in on itself.

“I think we should make more of these,” he hears himself say. Dean looks up. There’s a hard wall behind his brother’s eyes, the kind he knows Dean can’t allow to fall before they put a bullet in the devil’s head, no matter what happens now. If he stops moving, he won’t be able to start again. Sam swallows. “There’s more stuff in the back.”

“Sam-”

“Please,” Sam begs, and he knows too well how to pull a little pity from Dean, “I just want a minute with her.” Dean stares him down, and Sam adds, “I have to apologize.” 

It hurts that that’s what makes Dean back down. Sam’s goodbyes aren’t worth some privacy but his atonement is. 

Whatever gets him where he needs to be, he tells himself. He can hear the muffled footfalls of the dogs outside. They don’t bark whenever he gets too close to the door the way they do for Dean or Ellen.

And he’s hoping, has to hope, that there’s even a sliver of truth to the devil’s promises.

“Okay,” Dean says. He reaches out like he’s going to pat Sam on the shoulder as he passes, but his hand never connects and Sam pretends he didn’t lean towards the touch, shaking himself and only watching Dean for as long as it takes him to convince Ellen to come with him. Sam can’t watch her leave. If this goes wrong-

“Hey, Sam,” Jo says as he kneels down next to her. He can smell her death in the air, stalking her on jagged claws and burning with salt and gasoline. His hands shake as he checks what little they have bandaged up. He needs to know it’ll hold. “Sam,” she says again, “don’t ignore me. I only get so many last words.” Sam grits his teeth hard and squeezes his eyes shut. “Sam?”

“I’m not going to let you die,” he tells her. Jo tips her head. There’s blood in her hair, in her clothes, on Sam’s hands for touching her. 

“Not sure that’s an option,” she says. She sounds scared. She’s hiding it well, but even if the only deaths Sam has known have been easy ones, quick ones, he still remembers the fear, even if it only came bubbling up in his chest in the aftermath like scars for a wound he didn’t realize he had. 

She sees something in his eyes. He hopes it isn’t determination or love — all those have ever done is damn him further — but guilt, he could live with her seeing. Guilt won’t hurt anyone but himself, he hopes.

“Trust me,” he says. He puts one arm under her back, the other under her legs. Her jeans are warm and wet with her own blood. Jo grunts in pain. She grabs at his shoulder, but her fingers barely have enough strength to grip it.

“Stop it,” she says. Sam can’t. He heaves her up. She’s heavier than she looks, compact muscle weighing her down. “Sam, stop!” He’s hurting her, and all he can do is look away and towards the door. “Mom!” Jo screams. It isn’t as loud as Sam knows she can be, and all he can feel is the blood soaking into his own clothes. 

When they come out, and Sam’s at the door with Jo bleeding out in his arms, Ellen has a gun pointed at his head. She won’t shoot, not for him, but because he’d drop Jo if she did. He tries to apologize, but the words stick in his throat. They won’t be enough. The only thing of worth he can offer is fixing this mess he’s made. 

“Sam, come back here,” Dean orders. 

Sam leaves.

It’s cold in Carthage. The wind stings his face. He tries to tuck Jo closer as he feels her start to shiver, blood loss and fear wracking her body. She can’t even fight him, and she must hate that. Sam wonders if she’ll forgive him for this, but it won’t matter. All he wants is for her to live.

He hears the howl of the hellhounds as the close in. He tries to count their footsteps, but there’s too many. He can see Dean being torn apart right in front of his eyes and if he’s wrong, if he brought Jo out here just to feed her to these things, he-

There’s the nudge of a large, warm body against his leg. It snuffles at him and growls softly. Sam can’t breathe.

Very gently, teeth close around the loose edge of his jeans and tug him forward. The message is clear when he resists and the growls get louder. He’s going with them. 

“You have to take me to Lucifer,” he tells the hellhounds as they pad around him, almost forming a protective barrier, one that would keep anything else away and him from leaving. He’s not sure they understand a word he’s saying. One of them touches its warm nose to his elbow, too close to Jo for comfort, and he wrenches away from it. Jo whimpers from the sudden movement. She’s too pale and too quiet. Sam picks up his pace.

The hellhounds race alongside him, proclaiming his journey with howls that sound far more joyful than the ones that came when they hunted damned souls. That did nothing to stop Sam’s skin from crawling with every reminder that they were there, just out of sight, and that they ripped Jo open like tissue paper. 

Her eyes were shut now. She was still breathing. 

The hellhounds guide him down the streets towards the sickening stench of corpses. It’s filling the air now, an unmistakable answer to where everyone in Carthage has gone. This was a bad idea. What’s Lucifer going to care about one more dead human? Sam’s practically giftwrapping himself for him. The hellhounds won’t let him turn back, and even if he could, he wouldn’t make it back to Ellen and Dean with Jo still alive. There was only one way: forward, to the mass grave. 

Lucifer is humming to himself. It paints the whole scene with absurd horror: the demons that part to make an aisle for Sam to walk down, the way Lucifer shovels away the dirt himself, the smell of the bodies just beyond and hidden from Sam’s view. Hellhounds run past Sam to their master, barking at Lucifer, scuffing paw marks in the dirt as they surround him. Lucifer drops the shovel just to pet them, ruffling invisible fur and cooing at the same monsters that killed Dean once and would kill Jo, too, if this didn’t work.

And then Lucifer looks up at him. He smiles. Sam waits for his stomach to plummet in anger, disgust, fear, but it doesn’t. He feels good seeing Lucifer smile. He wants more.

It only lasts a moment, long enough for Lucifer to start saying, “Sam! I thought you would-” He stops, tilting his head. “Who’s that?”

Sam swallows. 

“Did you find her on the street?” Lucifer sounds disgusted, but then he turns that on his demons, scolding them with a scorching fury he hasn’t let Sam see before. “I asked you for death, not torture! Who-”

“She was with me,” Sam interrupts. Lucifer stops immediately to let him speak, and the anger in his eyes vanishes the moment he looks at Sam again. 

“Oh,” he says, “Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought you only brought Dean and my little brother.” Lucifer steps down from the hill he was shoveling on. Sam, instinctively, takes a step back, but the open aisle of before has closed behind him, trapping him here with Lucifer. When Lucifer approaches, Sam can see the burns trailing down his face and peeling on his hands. “I did tell you,” Lucifer says, his voice growing softer as he gets closer, as though he wants only Sam to hear him now. Sam wants to pull Jo away from him, as ridiculous as that notion is when there’s nowhere to go. “Nick is hardier than I thought, but still, he’s not you,” Lucifer murmurs. His gaze drops once to survey all of Sam, in the same space for the first time and relishing it.

“Is that what you want?” Sam says. “You heal her, and I-” Lucifer blinks. He steps closer, peering down at Jo, and then back at Sam. He lifts a hand to Sam’s face, only to have him flinch back from it. Lucifer looks surprised at that, and Sam can’t understand why as his hand lingers in the air, out-stretched, waiting, before Lucifer draws it back under the fold of his arms where Sam can’t see it anymore.

“I won’t play games like that,” Lucifer tells him. “If you want me to heal her, all you have to do is ask.”

Jo’s shallow breaths echo in Sam’s ears. Lucifer waits, patiently, as though anything else he has to do tonight can be put on hold for as long as Sam needs.

“Please,” Sam begs, “she doesn’t deserve to die because of me.” Lucifer rests a hand on Jo’s stomach, and Sam sucks in a breath. He’s too close. He can feel Lucifer’s grace flooding the air, spreading from his fingers into Jo’s wounds, brushing Sam’s skin as it moves around them. Sam’s senses fill with Lucifer, and it’s suddenly the hardest thing he’s ever done to stop himself from saying yes immediately. He can feel the word behind his teeth, bashing forward like it can break free of his mouth and meet the archangel he’s made for. 

A knot of burned flesh peels on Lucifer’s jaw as he focuses. He doesn’t even seem to notice his vessel collapsing around him. Sam can’t do anything but notice, and know, intimately, how well Lucifer would slide under his skin and belong there. 

“There we go,” Lucifer says. Jo breathes in deeply. Her eyes open for a moment, but Lucifer shuts them again and when he pulls his hand back, Jo stays asleep in Sam’s arms. She still smells like blood, but it will dry now.

“And now I set you free,” Lucifer says, “because I know you’ll come back.” He pauses, gazing at Sam with so much affectionate that it makes Sam’s stomach turn worse than the rot in the air. Sam can hear the shuffling of footsteps behind him. He can’t take his eyes off of Lucifer. He steps back. Lucifer watches him go, surrounded by demons in dead bodies and obedient hellhounds at his feet. “I’ll give you anything, Sam,” Lucifer calls after him. “You just have to ask.”

And with Jo alive in his arms, Sam flees and hopes that when he makes it back to Dean and Ellen, they won’t shoot him dead the moment he’s in range.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

#whumptober2023 #no.30 #bridal carry #supernatural #fic #blood #fanfiction #1001-5000 #teen and up audiences #spn #genfic #jo & sam #lucifer & sam #sam winchester #jo harvelle #lucifer spn #fix-it #hurt!jo

[englishstrawbie]

Serendipity (44/45)

Fandom: Station 19, Grey’s Anatomy

Characters: Maya Bishop & Carina DeLuca

Summary: A chance meeting at a bar leads to these two idiots falling in love. Follows canon and fills in the gaps of their relationship that we didn’t get to see on screen.

Also @ AO3.

* * * * * * * * * *

Everything Is About To Change

Once I knew you, I never wanted to know anyone else. - Leo Christopher

It is just before eight o’clock when Maya heads to the beanery, her stomach demanding food. The team have already assembled, various breakfast foods on the table as Travis cooks the last of the bacon. The smell makes Maya’s stomach growl even louder.

“Hey Captain!” Andy greets her cheerfully. “Last shift before you become a married woman! How’re you feeling?”

Maya shrugs, trying to act casual, even though the thought of her upcoming nuptials makes her heart beat faster with excitement. Andy smirks, reading her like a book.

“All ready for your big day?” Ben asks as he places a pile of plates at the top of the long dining table.

“Just about,” Maya says. She looks at Vic. “Right?”

“Right,” Vic says with a confident nod of her head. “Mom and Dad are on top of everything. I stopped by the restaurant yesterday with the last of the decorations; the flowers will be delivered the morning of the wedding; and these guys have promised to get there early to help set out the tables.”

Vic glares around the room until everyone around her nods enthusiastically.

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.”

Maya visibly relaxes. “Thanks guys.”

“And I have a killer playlist ready for the party,” Dean says gleefully, giving his shoulders a little wiggle in anticipation.

“How’s the other bride-to-be?” Travis asks. “Did Carina have a good trip to Italy?”

“She’s good,” Maya says with a small smile. “She enjoyed seeing her family, but she’s happy to be home now.”

She wanders over to the table and drops down into a chair, helping herself to a plateful of food. The rest of the team sit around her as Travis places the bacon on the table, several pairs of hands immediately reaching out to take some.

“Let’s just hope for a quiet shift,” Jack says. No sooner as his butt hits the seat, the klaxon sounds and all eyes turn towards him angrily.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Maya says, taking a final bite of her pancake before jumping up from her chair.

They rush downstairs to the barn, getting dressed into their turnouts in record time and climbing into the engines. It takes them to an apartment fire on the west side of town, belonging to a couple in their twenties. It turns out that the kitchen fire is the least of their problems, as the young woman, Amy, goes into labour just as Travis sprays the last of the foam onto the flames.

“Let’s get her to the aid car,” Maya says, encouraging the team out of the apartment to do a sweep of the rest of the block.

“Uh, Captain,” Vic says hesitantly.

“What is it, Hughes?”

“I don’t think we’ve got time to get her to the aid car.”

Amy groans as she breathes through another contraction, just like she was taught in her birthing classes. “Is he coming? Is my baby coming?”

Maya and Vic look at each other, both opening their mouths at the same time.

“Warren!”

An hour later and Amy is cuddling her newborn baby in the comfort of her own bed, a healthy boy they name Luke.

“Thank you,” she says gratefully to Ben, Vic and Maya.

“You’re welcome,” Maya says with a smile. “Congratulations.” She turns to Ben and Vic. “You two, get her to the hospital, we’ll meet you back at the station.”

The others have completed their sweep by the time she gets outside and they pile into the two engines, making their way back to the station. They have just pulled into the barn and are getting out of the vehicles when another call comes in over the radio, calling for 19’s help at a house fire.

Passing Jack to get back into the ladder truck, Maya punches his arm lightly.

“I really am gonna kill you.”

The fire is only a few blocks over and Maya calls ahead to the aid car, asking them to meet them there, before reading through the information that has been sent to her on her tablet. Station 23 is already on scene when the engines from 19 roll up. The blaze is high above the house, escaping through the vents that have already been opened. They jump out of the vehicles the moment the brakes are on.

“Any residents make it out yet?” Andy asks a nearby cop.

“Neighbour who called thinks at least six people live in there,” the cop, Vivienne, says. “We tried to kick the door down, but the smoke was too much.”

Maya immediately takes charge. “Nineteen, we are Rescue Group. Twenty-three is Fire Attack. There are at least six people unaccounted for. I want a thorough primary and secondary search.”

Her team get to work and Maya goes in search of the neighbour who called it in, hoping to get some more information that will help them get the people out as quickly as possible.

“Excuse me, ma'am? Hi, I'm Captain Bishop,” she introduces herself. The woman turns around and Maya spots her baby bump. “Do you know the name of the family?”

“Yeah, Garcia,” the woman – who Maya later learns is called Dani – says. “It's a real great family. My kid, Zaza, plays with their kid, Steven, sometimes.”

“Okay, do you know how many people live there?”

“Seven?” Dani guesses. “There's a lot of kids. And grandparents. They all quarantined together.”

“Thank you,” Maya says before stepping away.

Andy is her point person and she grabs her radio to share the information.

“Herrera? Neighbour thinks there might be seven people in there, not six.”

With her team inside, Maya weaves amongst all the emergency vehicles until she finds the captain of Station 23.

“Captain Aquino.”

“Captain Bishop,” he greets her fondly. “Good to see you, thanks for the help.”

“My team are inside, the neighbour thinks that there might be seven people in the house – kids, parents, grandparents. What’s the update on the fire?”

“I’ve got three at the front and three at the back,” Aquino says. “We think it started in the kitchen and quickly made its way through the first floor and up the stairs. Right now, it’s destroying their loft.”

“Captain, living room is clear. Continuing the search,” Sullivan’s voice comes through the radio.

Aquino shares the house plans and they pour over them, Maya getting a feel over its layout and looking for any potential tricky-to-reach areas. The structure is simple, but there are a lot of rooms to check – which means plenty of cupboards and beds to provide likely hiding spots.

Her team moves quickly and efficiently through the house and it is not long before she sees them coming through the front door. Sullivan leads the way with a woman that Maya places in her thirties as well as two young children. Andy follows with an elderly gentleman, then Travis carrying an older woman. They head to the triage area, away from the flames and smoke, where Vic and Ben meet them with a gurney.

“Gibson, we’ve five out of potentially seven in the house,” Maya says through her radio. “Any updates from you?”

“Negative. We’re trying to head up to the loft but there’s still a lot of flames.”

“Be careful,” Maya tells him.

From a distance, she sees Sullivan and Dean make their way back inside, as Andy comes running over to her.

“There are eight in the house, not seven,” she says breathlessly. “We have Belinda, two of her kids and her parents. There are two more kids in the bedroom at the end of the hall – Tina and Jorge. Sullivan and Miller have gone back in to get them. Plus there’s Abuelita.”

“Abuelita?”

“Her abuela, Belinda’s grandmother,” Andy says. “Oh, and Roxy the dog.”

“There’s always a dog,” Maya sighs. “Thanks Andy. You okay to go back in there?”

“Yes Captain,” Andy says with a confident smile, turning on her heel and running back towards the house.

Maya heads over to the triage point to see how their patients are doing and get an update on their injuries, before calling it in through her radio.

“Dispatch, we have eight potential victims. Five have been extracted so far, all of them need medical attention.”

As she talks, Sullivan and Miller come out of the house with two small children in their arms.

“Scratch that, seven have been extracted. We need more aid cars here. Which hospital is gonna take them?”

“The ERs in the city are all full to capacity,” Dispatch tells her. “We have multiple units on wall time waiting for beds.”

“I'm gonna need one more,” Maya tells her. “Still have one vic, whereabouts unknown.”

She looks over her shoulder to see McAllister approaching and groans inwardly. Great, just what she needs. He keeps breathing down her neck, more interested in protecting his connections in the police department happy than his own people within the FD.

“We'll try to get a car to you ASAP, but just know it might be a bit. Even the private ambulance companies are slammed,” Dispatch says.

“Well, it might take us a bit to find her,” Maya says.

“Response times all over the city are falling,” McAllister tells her.

So much for a quiet shift, it appears that all of the nearby fire stations are being slammed today.

Suddenly, a woman’s voice calls out and Maya sees Dani walking down the street.

“Zaza? Zaza, are you out here?”

“Ma'am?”

“It's my kid,” Dani says. “I went to go wake him up, but he's not in bed, but… he loves fire trucks, so he's probably around here somewhere.”

Maya can tell she is trying to stay calm, despite her obvious worry, her hand rubbing her belly.

“How old?”

“He's nine,” Dani says.

“We'll keep an eye out for him,” Maya promises.

“Okay, thank you.”

Maya makes her way to where the rest of the family are being attended to. A small, white dog runs up to them and she is scooped up by the mom, Belinda.

“Still no sign of Abuelita,” Andy says.

“Oh, her brain is all… it gets muddled. She still thinks that she's young,” Belinda says.

“Okay, I got it.”

Andy is about to head back inside when Belinda keels over. Andy rushes over to her while Maya grabs her radio.

“We have a thirty-seven-year-old female in respiratory distress.”

“We’ve got an aid car on its way to you, Nineteen, it’s thirty seconds out,” Dispatch tells her.

Andy calls for an ambu bag and help to get Belinda to hospital. An aid car from Station 15 pulls up and Maya goes to greet them, guiding them over to the triage point. Together with Andy, they lift her onto a gurney.

Just as the aid car pulls away, Maya sees an old woman being guided out of the house by a lieutenant from Station 23.

“Herrera,” she calls out, nodding to where the old woman is.

Andy runs over to help, as Maya radios Dispatch with an update.

“You're gonna need to find me one more aid car,” she says.

The old woman says something in Spanish, which only Andy understands. She turns to Maya with wide eyes when she realises what she is saying.

“The neighbour boy!”

“Zaza?”

“Si,” Abuelita says, recognising his name. She continues to speak in Spanish and Maya waits for Andy to translate it for her.

“He was helping her get back to bed.”

Maya looks up at the burning building, cursing under her breath. “He's in the house. Herrera, get back in there.”

Andy rushes back towards the house and Maya grabs her radio.

“Gibson, there's possibly a nine-year-old boy in the house.”

“Another one?” Jack questions.

“Neighbour boy,” Maya tells him. “Most likely ground floor. Name's Zaza.”

“Copy. We'll find him.”

Maya walks over to where the boy’s mother is talking to more of the neighbours.

“Ma'am? What's your name?”

“Um, Dani. Delgado. Why? What's going on?”

“The grandmother says that Zaza helped her get back into bed,” Maya says, as gently as possible.

“Oh, my God. He's always telling me that he's worried about Steven's Ita because she gets confused and that she walks around at night.” She looks at the house as it slowly dawns on her what Maya is trying to tell her. “Oh, my God, wait! Is he in there?”

“He may have…” Maya starts, but Dani starts to run, trying to push past Maya and towards the house.

“No! Zaza! Zaza! No! Let me through! That is my son!”

“Dani, wait!” Maya says. “I need you to wait.”

The cop from earlier, Vivienne, comes over to help. “Miss! Ma'am!”

“Please let me go!” Dani cries out. “That is my son!”

Vivienne steps in, letting Maya get back to her job.

“Ma'am. Ma'am. I got her. I got her,” Vivienne tells her. “Ma'am, calm down. Please, please. We're going to find your son, okay?”

“Herrera, update,” Maya demands.

“Still no Zaza,” Andy tells her.

It is an agonising few minutes as they wait, Maya breathing a sigh of relief when Andy’s voice comes through the radio with good news.

“Captain, we have Zaza!”

Moments later, Sullivan runs out with Zaza in his arms, with Andy just behind him. Maya follows them to the triage area.

“Dispatch, you have that additional aid car?”

“Sorry, Nineteen. Still no available units.”

“I have a nine-year-old boy, unconscious, full thickness burns,” Maya tells them, hoping it will prompt them to find her a damn aid car faster.

“We found him in the closet,” Andy says. “He likely got disoriented trying to get out.”

“Oh, my God! Zaza! It's okay, baby! Wake up!” Dani cries, crouching down beside him.

“Ma'am? Ma'am. I need you to step back,” Maya tries to tell her, but she doesn’t listen.

“Where's the aid car?” Andy asks

“Shortage in the city. ERs are slammed,” Maya says.

“I'll take him! I will take him in my car!” Dani says, desperate to do anything to save her son.  

“You can't do that,” Maya says kindly. “He needs fluids and oxygen.”

“Well, what's the alternative? Waiting?” Andy says, looking at Maya and then turning her eyes to the Chief.

“Do we have another choice?” Sullivan asks.

“That's the protocol,” McAllister says.

“No, this boy has severe burns,” Andy points out. “At least thirty percent BSA.”

“Oh, Zaza, please, please wake up!” Dani begs, kneeling by her son’s head.

“And I really don't want to deliver another baby in the wild today,” Andy says, looking at Dani and her bump.

“Same,” Maya says. She picks up her radio. “Dispatch, ETA on the aid car.”

“Gonna be at least eight minutes.”

“Eight?!”  

“What do we do, Cap?” Andy says.

McAllister steps in. “I'm the Incident Commander and I say you wait for the damn aid car,” he says, asserting his authority.

Maya hears him but she doesn’t like it. Zaza is a kid, he’s nine years old, and it’s their job to save him, not follow protocols. They can get to the hospital quicker than the aid car can get to them.

She thinks about Pruitt and what he would do in this situation. She knows what he would do – she knows what everyone in her team would do, if they were in her position. In that moment, she doesn’t care about the track or what it might mean for her reputation, she is tired of all this bullshit and she won’t be complicit in it any more.

“I'm not waiting.”

“Excuse me?” McAllister says, incredulous that she would dare to challenge him in front of her team.

“We have an emergency vehicle right here,” Maya says, pointing at the ladder truck behind them. “We grab O2, we keep the fluids going, we put the sirens on.”

“That isn't safe, Captain Bishop,” McAllister says. He guides her away from the patient and his mother, talking quietly in her ear. “And if that child dies en route, you're staring at a massive lawsuit.”

“I can't,” Maya says. “I can't anymore. I can't prioritise protocols and fear of a lawsuit over this child's life.”

“You don't have to, Bishop,” McAllister says. “All you have to do is follow orders, and I'm ordering you to wait for the aid car.”

“Due respect, Sir, but no.”

“No?”

She can’t quite believe she is saying it, but the words come out of her mouth before she has chance to think – or care – about the consequences.

“I'm gonna save his life instead.” She turns back to her team. “Let's go Nineteen!”

They don’t need to be told twice, everyone jumps into action to put Zaza into the back of the ladder truck, his mom refusing to leave his side. Andy and Ben stay with him, while Sullivan drives and Maya takes the passenger seat. She sits with a stony face, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Defying orders is so far out of her comfort zone, she can’t help but think back to her childhood and those moments with her father and the way his eyes would darken with rage if she dared to do something he didn’t approve of. Her skin prickles and she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“How’s he doing, Herrera?” she calls out.

“Stable for now,” Andy says.

“You okay, Bishop?” Sullivan asks, glancing over his shoulder at her.

Maya lets out a long, slow breath. “Just drive.”

They are at the hospital in seven minutes, a team of doctors including Bailey and Link on standby waiting for them. Maya jumps out of the engine and rushes around to the other side of the vehicle, helping them unload the young boy onto a gurney. She tries to follow him into the hospital but is stopped by a gentle hand on her arm.

“Stand down, Bishop,” Bailey says. “You’ve done your job, now let us do ours.”

Maya can do nothing more but watch as they wheel the young boy away. She is in a trance until she feels Andy’s hand on her back.

“Did I do the right thing?”

“Yes,” Andy says defiantly. “We gave him the best chance by getting him here as soon as we could.”

“And ruined my chances of a promotion at the same time,” Maya says bitterly.

“Nah,” Ben says. “You most probably saved that kid’s life.”

It’s a naïve comment, they all know that. They know McAllister will use it against her as soon as he finds the opportunity.

“You did the right thing, Maya,” Andy repeats.

Maya takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. She knows she did and, no matter what, she knows she would do it again if she had to. “Let’s get back to the station.”

It is a quiet ride back. The fire engine is waiting for them as they pull in and she is met with a wall of concerned faces when she steps out of the engine.

“Did he make it?” Vic asks.

“Bailey and her team are working on him,” Andy says, glancing at Maya who stays silent.

“I’ll make sure Miranda sends us an update when she can,” Ben says.

“You did the right thing, Cap,” Travis says softly.

There is a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team and Maya offers them a small, grateful smile, even though her head is distracted.

“How pissed was he?” Maya finally says.

No-one dares answer and she knows what that means.

“How pissed was who?”

Maya turns at the familiar voice and is surprised to see Carina appear from around the back of the fire engine.

“The Chief,” Maya says. “Long story. What are you doing here, don’t you have a bridal shower to get ready for?”

Carina lets out a loud sigh. “Our wedding is going to be a disaster!”

Maya’s eyebrows shoot upwards as Carina’s shoulders slump forwards. She isn’t sure if she is serious or if it is her Italian roots causing her to be dramatic.

“Because?” she prompts her.

“Our officiant has Covid,” Carina says. “And I can’t find anyone else to do it, they’re all fully booked.”

“But we can’t get married without her,” Maya says.

Carina rolls her eyes at Maya pointing out the obvious. She needs a solution and is hoping that her calm, sensible, clipboard-loving fiancé can magic one out of nowhere.

“There’s gotta be someone out there,” Vic says, ever the optimist. “We can all help call around.”

“I’ve already tried that,” Carina huffs.

Maya reaches out to take her hand, squeezing it gently. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. We’ll find someone, okay?”

“What if we can’t?” Carina says desperately.

“One of us can do it,” Jack jumps in.

Carina turns her head to look at him, her eyes narrowing suspiciously and causing him to take a cautionary step backwards.

“One of you?” Maya questions.

“Sure, you can get ordained on the internet these days, right?” Jack says.

Maya goes to roll her eyes, ready to tell him that he’s an idiot, but Andy catches her off guard.

“It’s not a terrible idea.” Andy shrugs when Maya shoots her a disbelieving look. “What? If Carina’s right and there’s no-one else around, you might not have a choice.”

“And which one of you is going to volunteer?”

“I mean, it should be someone who’s wise and good with words,” Jack says. “Someone who knows you both, someone who’s married themselves and can share some words of wisdom.”

One by one, they all turn to look at Ben, who is stood to one side. He looks pleased and surprised when he realises that they are all suggesting he does it.

“Me?”

“Would you?” Maya asks, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” Ben says. “I’d be honoured.”

Maya smiles gratefully at him, then turns to look at Carina. “What do you think?”

Carina nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Si, let’s do it,” Carina says, her frown disappearing, replacing it with a smile.

Maya pulls her close, kissing her squarely on her upturned lips and ignoring the cheers around them. She feels the tension in her own body start to dissipate too. Screw McAllister and SFD politics. In two days’ time, they are getting married and that is the most important thing right now.

Vic is already on her cell phone, searching how to become ordained. “Okay, it looks pretty simple. All you have to do is file an application and then contact the Recorder’s Office to give them the details about the wedding.”

She pings Maya a message with the link to the website she has been reading.  

“Let’s do it in my office,” Maya says. “Ben, go get cleaned up and meet us there. The rest of you – chores!”

She laughs at the groans and jeers that come back at her. With her hand still wrapped around Carina’s, they make their way to her office. Maya closes the door once they are inside and shrugs off her jacket. Despite her best efforts to put them aside, Carina can see that something is still on her mind.

“This thing with the Chief,” she says, “is it to do with Dean’s law suit?”

“Kind of,” Maya says, perching against her desk. “We got called to a house fire and needed to get a kid to the hospital, but the closest aid car was eight minutes away. The Chief wanted us to wait but I made the call to take him in the ladder truck. Technically it was against protocol, and it was definitely against the Chief’s orders.”

“But it was what was best for the child, no?”

“We probably got him to Grey Sloan before the aid car even showed up,” Maya says.

“Then you did the right thing,” Carina says. “The Chief will see that.”

Maya isn’t so sure. “It’ll be another thing that pisses him off about Nineteen. More micro-managing, more reasons to check up on us, to find fault in what we do. He and Dixon are probably in cahoots, they’ll do anything to get Dean to drop his claim against the PD.”

She looks and sounds despondent. Carina wanders over to her and takes her hand, spinning them round so that she is the one resting on the desk and putting her hands on Maya’s hips, encouraging her to turn until she has her back to her. She starts to kneed her shoulders with her hands, working on getting the knots out of her muscles. Maya relaxes into it, a quiet moan escaping from her lips. Carina leans forwards and presses her mouth against Maya’s neck.

“You know, Ben’s gonna walk in any minute,” Maya says, her eyes closing involuntarily as Carina’s lips suck and nip at her skin gently.

She can feel Carina smiling and imagines the smug look on her face.

“You sure you don’t wanna skip your bridal shower and stay here tonight?”

Carina chuckles. “I would, bambina, but Amelia will kill me.”  

“Did she tell you what she has planned yet?”

“No, she’s being stubbornly secretive,” Carina says. “Only that Maggie, Jo and Bailey will be there and I can’t be late. She didn’t say anything to you?”

“All she told me is that it has something to do with when she first met you,” Maya says.

Carina’s hands stop working their magic as she tips her head back and laughs. Maya opens her eyes and spins round to look at her.

“What?” she says, a half-smile on her face, curious about Carina’s reaction.  

Before Carina can explain, Ben appears in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting?” he says with a knowing smirk.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Maya gives Carina a playful shove off her desk and they make their way around to the other side, where Maya switches on her computer and pulls up the link that Vic sent to her. It turns out she was right, all it takes is an online application.

“I’ll call the Recorder’s Office, let them know about our change of plans. They might want to see your paperwork before the wedding,” Maya says, reading from the website.

“I’ll get it done tomorrow after shift,” Ben says.

“Thank you, Ben,” Carina says, drawing him into a hug. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are.”

“What she said,” Maya agrees, joining the embrace.

“I’m honoured, really,” Ben says. “I’m assuming it means I’m let off chores for the next month?”

He shoots Maya a hopeful look and she laughs. “A week,” she compromises.

Ben grins. “I’d better go and work on my speech.”

Once he has left her office, Maya turns and pulls Carina close. “Well, that’s our last-minute disaster solved,” she says. She kisses Carina lightly.

“I’d better get going, I promised Amelia I’d be there by six,” Carina says as she extracts herself from Maya’s arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Maya nods. “Have fun tonight. But, you know, not too much fun.”

Carina shoots her a teasing smile. “I make no promises!” she says as she glides away, leaving Maya amused.

McAllister’s phone call comes a couple of hours later, demanding that she, Andy and Sullivan attend his office after their shift ends tomorrow. She is prepared to show remorse for ignoring the Chief’s orders, but won’t apologise for saving a kid’s life. It is not a game she will play any more.

She needs a distraction, to stop the situation from pissing her off any more than it already is, so she heads to the beanery to help Travis and Dean cook dinner, before tossing and turning all night in the captain’s bunk.

The meeting goes as she expects. McAllister is stern and patronising, questioning her decision and berating her for challenging his authority in public. Maya stands her ground, staying calm and polite, but adamant that she did the right thing. After all, the boy, Zaza, is doing well and more than one doctor at Grey Sloan has commended her for her decision.

She takes a detour on her way home, driving aimlessly through the streets for a while to let the rage leave her before she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t want to go back to Carina feeling like this. It is the day before their wedding and she wants it to be filled with happiness and excitement.

By the time she gets home, it is almost ten o’clock. Carina is still asleep when she creeps into the bedroom, barely stirring as the light from the hallway makes the room glow. It is late, even for a deep sleeper like Carina, and she guesses she had fun at her bridal shower last night.

Carina sleeps as she usually does when Maya isn’t there, lying on her front down the middle of the bed, her arms spread out and her hair splayed, taking up as much space as she can. Maya undresses quietly and slips into her pyjamas. She pulls the covers back slightly and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Carina’s temple, drawing her out of her slumber.

“Room in there for me?”

Carina smiles lazily. “Always.”

She shuffles over and rolls onto her back, so that Maya can slide into bed and curl herself into Carina’s warm body. She inhales, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

“How was your bridal shower?”

“It was fun,” Carina says. “I was very spoiled.”

“Good,” Maya says, making a mental note to send Amelia a thank you later on. “You gonna tell me what you got up to?”

“No,” Carina says with a cheeky grin. “How was the rest of your shift?”

“Uneventful,” Maya says. “Ben’s gonna message us later once he’s been to the Recorder’s Office with his paperwork.”

“I can’t believe he’s going to marry us,” Carina says with a small laugh.

“I think he’s quite looking forward to it,” Maya says.

Carina runs her fingers lightly up and down her arm and Maya sighs contentedly, closing her eyes and snuggling into her chest. Her exhaustion starts to catch up with her, the warmth and comfort of Carina’s body lulling her into sleep.

When she wakes, it is almost one o’clock. The space beside her is empty and she lifts her head, listening for some sign of her wife-to-be. She hears Carina moving around the kitchen and music playing on the radio. She can smell something delicious cooking and breathes it in. Those two months they were apart were long and she missed this, she missed the simple domesticity of waking up to the woman she loves making lunch and taking care of her after a twenty-four hour shift.

Maya throws the covers off and pads out of the bedroom into the apartment. Carina is humming along to some pop song she clearly doesn’t know, missing the beat and a little out of tune, but she doesn’t seem to care. Maya feels a wave of love wash through her and she sidles up to her, slipping her arms around Carina’s waist and pressing her lips against her shoulder.

“Hey.”

Carina smiles and turns her head to the right a little. “Hey you.”

“Smells good.”

Carina tips her head back further and kisses Maya’s cheek sweetly. “Spinach and ricotta rotolo. You’re always hungry when you wake up.”

She untangles herself from Maya’s arms to add some seasoning to the dish. Maya steps backwards and leans against the counter, helping herself to a slice of fresh bread and smearing it with butter. She dips it into the tomato sauce in the pan, moving quickly when Carina bats her away teasingly. Stepping back, Maya jumps up to sit on the counter and takes her cell phone out of her pocket, pulling up the final wedding to-do list in her notes.

“So, we need to wrap the thank you gifts for Andy and Vic and Vic’s parents. And we ought to buy one for Ben now, too.” She pauses to add it to the list. “Maybe we can pick something up when we’re out collecting our wedding rings?”

“The jewellery store called this morning, they’re expecting us after lunch,” Carina confirms.

“I need to stop by the restaurant and check in with Vic’s parents, and make sure the cake arrives.”

“You’re really not going to let me see the place until tomorrow?” Carina says.

Maya shakes her head, no. “I want something to be a surprise for you.”

“Did you pick out your outfit yet?” Carina asks. “That’s going to be a surprise.”

Maya pulls a face. Countless packages had arrived during her fourteen-day quarantine, from all sorts of clothes stores, as Maya had shopped around for wedding outfits.

“For both of us,” she jokes. “I decide best under pressure.”

Carina chuckles.

“And we should check in with Ben, about what he’s going to say during the service,” Maya says. Her face lights up with a smile. “And then all that’s left is to get married.”

“Actually, there’s one more thing I’d like us to do today,” Carina says. She takes the pan off the heat and puts it to one side for a moment, turning towards Maya. “I want to go to church, to say a prayer and to light a candle for Mama and Andrea and my family. Will you come with me?”

Maya hears the emotion in her voice as she says it and slips off the counter to land on the floor beside her. “Yeah, of course. I’d really like that.” She reaches out and rests her hand on Carina’s arm. “Are you okay?”

Carina nods. “I’m happy,” she says, even though tears pool in the corners of her eyes. “I’m just a little bit sad too, that they’re missing it. But I want to get all my sad out the way today, so that all we have is happy tomorrow.”

“It’s okay to be sad,” Maya says. “Even tomorrow.”

Carina leans forward and kisses her sweetly, before resting her forehead against Maya’s. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Maya looks up at her, taking in her slightly tanned skin from her trip to Italy and her dark brown eyes and crinkled brow. If someone had told her nine months ago that the woman who walked into Joe’s one evening would be her wife, she would have laughed and told them they were crazy. And yet, here they are.  

“Will you marry me?” she asks suddenly, out of the blue.

She realises she never really asked her. It was a solution to a problem at the time, not the most romantic way to propose, and she doesn’t want to get married tomorrow without having asked the question. It is silly, because she knows the answer already, but still her heart flutters nervously as she waits for Carina’s answer.

“Yes, Maya, of course I will. I want to marry you so much.”

Her face breaks out into a wide smile as she kisses Maya again, more deeply this time, until Maya’s rumbling tummy interrupts them, reminding them both that lunch is ready to be eaten.

Their afternoon is spent running the final chores in preparation for their wedding, splitting up for an hour as Maya checks in with Anthony and Lenya. Everything is on track for a perfect wedding day.

She meets Carina just after five o’clock outside a local church. Maya hasn’t been to church since she was a child, she never really understood it, but she knows how important it is to Carina to come here today. They walk inside hand-in-hand and make their way down the nave to the north transept, where Carina puts some money into a jar. She picks up a one of the long matches and lights it with one of the flames, then closes her eyes, picturing her family – her mama and brother at the forefront of her mind. A tear trickles down her cheek and she lets it fall, letting herself feel the grief of their loss all over again. Maya’s hand rests on her back and she is so grateful that she is there.

When she is ready, she opens her eyes and lights six candles.

“Six?” Maya asks curiously.

“Mama, Andrea, Nonna, Zio Eduardo, Zio Roberto.” She pauses. “And Papa. I know he’s not gone, but he kind of is gone from my life, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Maya says, an understanding in her voice. She thinks about her parents and Mason, and the distance that has grown between them all.

Behind them, a group of children arrive for choir practice, their young voices warming up and filling the church with beautiful melodies.  

“Can we stay and listen for a while?” Carina asks.

“Yeah, of course we can,” Maya says.

They sit a few pews back and listen as the choir sing their hymns, practising for their Sunday morning service.

“Did I ever tell you that Andrea was in our church choir?”

Maya looks over her shoulder at her. “No. Was he a good singer?”

“Not really,” Carina says with a small chuckle. “But he looked so sweet in the robes. They were always a little bit too big for him.”

“I wish I’d known before,” Maya says. “I would have enjoyed teasing him about it.”

They might have only known each other for a short time, but Carina cherishes the moments that Andrew and Maya got to share.

“I wish Mama could have known you,” she says.

“I wish I could have met her too.” Maya twists her lips thoughtfully. “Do you think she would’ve liked me?”

Maya holds her breath. She doesn’t usually care about other people’s opinions of her, but this one? This one matters a lot.

“Oh yes, Maya, she would’ve loved you,” Carina says fondly. “She would’ve loved how bold and brave and strong you are; and how stubborn and determined you are. Most of all, she would’ve loved how happy you make me.”

Maya smiles, wishing she could kiss her right now, but she doesn’t because they are in church. Instead, she reaches out and takes Carina’s hand, holding it tightly.

They sit together for a while, listening to the choir singing until Carina is ready to leave. She insists on stopping at Little Roma on the way home to pick up take out, including four desserts – tiramisu, cannoli, panna cotta and bomboloni. All the things they ate the first night they met at Joe’s.

“I was such an idiot,” Maya muses as she tucks into the panna cotta.

“Which time?” Carina teases, dodging Maya’s playful nudge.

“The night we met, telling you I was drinking alone and turning you down,” Maya says.

Carina smirks. “It didn’t last though.”

“Well, you’re very charming,” Maya points out.

She lifts her hand to brush away some remnants of sugar from the corner of Carina’s mouth, smiling when Carina turns her head and kisses her hand. She wraps her own hand around Maya’s wrist to hold her close, nuzzling her cheek into her palm, then kissing her way up her arm until she reaches her lips.

“I told you – charming,” Maya says softly.

She leans in for another kiss, but suddenly the space between them grows as Carina pulls away.

“I have a present for you,” she announces, disappearing into the bedroom for a moment. She comes back with a box in her hand. She places it on the table in front of Maya. “Your wedding gift.”

Maya frowns. “Aren’t we supposed to exchange gifts after we get married?”

“I’m too impatient,” Carina says with a small smile. “I want you to have it now.”

Maya picks up the box and opens it to find a delicate gold necklace with a small diamond pendant inside. It looks well-loved, but the metal shines under the lamp light next to them.

“It’s beautiful,” Maya gushes.

“It was my Nonna’s.”

Maya looks up in surprise. “It was?”

“My Nonno gave it to her on their wedding day,” Carina says.  

“Oh, Carina, I can’t,” Maya tries to object, but Carina shakes her head.

“I want you to have it.”

“But it’s your grandmother’s,” Maya says. “It should stay in your family.”

Carina smiles. “It will,” she says pointedly. “You’re my family, Maya, remember?”

It is a gesture that means a lot to them both. Maya sighs happily and leans in to thank her with a kiss.

“Are you sure?”

Carina nods. “There’s more to the story. She thought she’d lost it, a few years after their wedding. Nonno told me once that she emptied every cupboard and every drawer trying to find it, but it was nowhere to be found. She was so upset. The next year, on their fifth wedding anniversary, Nonno bought her a new one.”

She tucks her fingers into her shirt and pulls out a similar necklace to the one she has just gifted to Maya.

“But it wasn’t lost?” Maya says, running her fingers over the necklace in her hands.

“My Mama had it. She was three and curious, and she’d taken it from Nonna’s dresser to put it around one of her teddy bears,” Carina says.

They both laugh at the thought of an innocent act unknowingly causing so much upset.

“Thank you,” Maya says. “This is a lovely gift.”

Carina looks at her expectantly, like a kid at Christmas waiting for Santa to arrive.

“You want yours?”

Carina nods enthusiastically. Maya goes to the cupboard in the corner of the room and rummages around in the back until she finds what she is looking for.

“You hid it in here?”

“Well, I knew you’d try to find it in the bedroom,” Maya says with a knowing glance.

Carina takes the small box from her and opens it carefully, to find a platinum bracelet with a small bar decorated with four stones.

“Garnet for January, diamond for April, and two sapphires for September,” Maya says. “They’re…”

“Our birthstones,” Carina finishes for her. “Andrea, Mama, Papa and me.”

Maya nods. “It’s a way of keeping you together.”

Carina chokes back her tears. “It’s gorgeous, Maya, thank you.”

“Well, so are you,” Maya says sweetly.

She curls her hand around Carina’s neck and pulls her in for another kiss. Carina shuffles off her seat and straddles Maya’s legs, sliding into her lap as the kiss grows more passionate. Maya’s hands slip underneath Carina’s top, her fingers unclasping her bra in one swift movement, and she explores her soft skin. Growing impatient, she uses all of her might to stand up, taking Carina with her as her legs grip her waist.

“Aren’t you supposed to carry me to the bedroom after we get married?” Carina teases.

Maya grins. “I’m too impatient.”

#station 19 #grey's anatomy #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #serendipity

[hahahahahangst]

S(a)mbody that I used to know (Be The Young 17)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, self-h*rm, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily's life used to be normal. Until one day, her family died, leaving behind just one letter.

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

MASTERLIST

A/N: I am not 100% about this one... But I say “fuck we ball it”. Also no I cannot leave Emily alone for 10 whole seconds. Deal with it hehe

S(a)mbody that I used to know

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness Like resignation to the end Always the end

They didn’t talk about Emily’s powers much after that. Dean was clearly scared of them, especially about how she opened the door without touching them, and kept denying any usability of them. ��I can’t help it.” He said. “They make me shiver.”

Emily and Sam kept going along well, not a cloud crossing their sky, although Sam didn’t take very well Ava’s death. In one of the first cases they worked after Ava, Emily found him drunk in their room, rambling about how he couldn’t save one of the victims and couldn’t save Ava. He also had a couple of observations on her and Dean which were, as Dean had put it, interesting. 

“If you just sat down and talked about it, you’d find out you actually like each other! Do it, do it now. I’ll close my eyes so I don’t hear you.” He had said, alcohol clouding any little clarity Sam had ever had. With a giggle, Dean and Emily had helped Sam to bed. 

“Don’t even think about it.” She said to Dean, leaving the room. 

Then, one day, she was awakened by Dean’s nervous voice calling her name. 

“Emily, wake up!” He shook her one last time as she opened her eyes. She saw her back as he frantically filled his bag. “Hey! We have to go, come on.” 

“What’s happening?” She sat up and noticed that the other half of the bed she was sleeping in, where Sam was supposed to be, was empty. “Where’s Sam?” 

“Exactly. Where is him?” 

“I don’t- Wait, did he leave?” 

“To hell if I know. He doesn’t tell me anything these days, it’s all about you and how good it is to have a sibling who listens.” Dean was bitter. 

“What are you, jealous?” 

“Yeah, we don’t have time for you to give me a therapy session. Do you know where he is or not?”

“Of course not!” 

“Emily…?” 

“I don’t fucking know! Wait, let me call him.” She took her phone from the floor next to the bed and quickly dialed his number, which quickly went to voicemail. She looked at Dean, who had been standing in front of her bed, hands on his waist. Emily jumped out of bed and quickly got ready. As they crossed the street, Dean dialed another number on his phone, the fourth since she had woken up and waited for an answer. After briefly speaking with Ellen, he hung up again, but just as he was about to say something, Emily’s head started to burn. He kept walking, but she stopped and moaned, in pain. She stumbled towards the closest wall. 

“Emily! Is everything okay?” 

“No- give me a second.” 

“What’s-”

“I said give me a second!” She repeated, clutching her head with both hands, extraneous images forming in front of her. As she finally reached the wall and was able to lean on it, the images became clear, the pain not getting any milder. 

Sam was sitting on a bed, in a motel, somewhere. He was staring numbly at the wall, covered in blood. She tried to look up to tell Dean, but more details appeared. 

Motel, a blue building, Twin Lakes, Wisconsin. Room 109.

When she finally opened her eyes, chest bent on her knees, Dean was towering over her, worried. 

“I know where he is.” 

“Who, Sam?”

“Yes, Dean-ugh…“

“Okay, easy now, what did you see?”

“Sam, he- he’s in Wisconsin.”

“Wisconsin? What-” 

“I don’t know, okay? He’s in a motel in Twin Lakes and…“ She exhaled, hesitating. “I am not sure, but I think he was covered in blood.”

“His blood?” 

“I don’t know.” Emily stood back up. “Dean, I have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Okay, let’s go.” He started walking towards the car and in less than a minute they were on the road. “Emily, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. It’s just my head.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Just.. drive, would you?” She answered, nervous. Dean’s expression hardened but he, indeed, kept driving and didn't argue with her any longer. Having visions was extremely exhausting: Emily felt her whole body as tired as she would have been if she just spent the whole day running, yet she could not sleep because her head still hurt. 

Nervous, she kept shifting in her seat, Dean’s gaze falling on her every time she would. 

“Emily, he will be fine.”

“I know. I’m just worried.” 

“I know.” With those words, the car started going faster. 

They reached their destination and nervously started walking through the narrow hallways, trying to find the room Sam was staying at. They almost passed it, Dean stopping Emily from her jacket as she walked. He knocked. “Sam, it’s me!” Not receiving an answer, Dean intensified his knocking. Emily, disturbed by the noise, moved him away and just tried to open the door. When she opened it, Sam was sitting on the bed, in the same exact position she had seen him earlier. 

He turned to Emily and Dean, who had been standing in the door. “Oh, hey.” He said, empty voice. 

“Sam, what’s going on?” Emily walked into the room, Dean closely following, and crouched next to Sam, trying to understand if he was hurt. “Are you bleeding?” 

“No, no- I don’t think that’s mine.” Emily and Dean exchanged a quick glare, apprehension growing higher. 

“Sam, what’s going on?” Asked Dean.

Emily looked at Sam. Something was not right, it felt off. From his behavior, she was expecting to feel fear, maybe a little bit of panic, but all she could feel -and she was sure, it was coming from Sam- was anger. Lots. 

Keeping that weird piece of info to herself, she watched Dean leave to get some food. The second the door closed, she stood back up and sat on the bed, next to Sam. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked, stroking his back over his shirt. Sam nodded weakly. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure out what’s going on. Here-” Emily retrieved Sam’s bag from the corner where she had thrown it while entering the room and handed him a shirt. ”...You should probably take a shower and get changed.” 

While Sam was in the shower, Dean came back from his supply run. “How’s he doing?” 

“I don’t know, I-”

“What do you mean? What about your telepathy thingy?” The sound of the shower getting closed interrupted them. A minute later, Sam came out of the bathroom with clean clothes. 

“Did you find out anything?” He asked Dean, drying his hair with a towel. 

“You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora.” He explained. “Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan.” 

Sam and Emily scowled at him. “Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me?” Said Sam, nervously rubbing his head.

“I don't know. But you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with.”

“Oh really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse?”

“Sam, I am sure you did nothing wrong.” Said Emily. “This is not about what dad said.” 

“She’s right.” Said Dean. Sam and Emily looked at him, almost surprised. “I know, I didn’t think I would have ever said it, but- She’s right. Let’s not jump the gun, what’s the last thing you remember?” 

“Just me and Emily, just, in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and…“

“West Texas?” Intervened Emily. “It’s been- what, like one week?” 

“That’s the last thing. Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month.”

“Okay.” Said Dean, suddenly moving towards the window. “Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so…“ He pulled back the curtains, revealing a bloody handprint on the window.

Sam finished drying his hair and they left, trying to retrace Sam’s steps. “How did you guys know where I was anyway?” He asked as they walked back the same corridor Emily and Dean had just walked through. 

“I had a vision.” Said Emily, gazing out one of the hallway windows. It had started raining. As they arrived out the door, Sam looked around. 

“Recognize anything?” 

“Not really- wait.” He stopped, staring at the garages in the back of the motel. “Try to open that one.” He pointed to the second door. Dean started trying to pry it open, but Sam stopped him, pensively taking a key out of his pocket. Emily gave him a worried look, which turned into surprise when he took out a key from his pocket. 

After opening the door, Dean revealed an old car, most likely stolen. Sam, nervous, opened the door of the car, but suddenly froze. 

“What?” Asked Emily, also approaching the car. Inside, a she saw that the backseat was covered in blood. “Sam, what the hell have you done here?!” She picked up a bloodied knife. 

“You think I used this on someone?” Asked Sam. Emily and Dean exchanged another apprehensive look. 

“We're not thinking anything.” Said Dean. 

“Dude.” Added Emily. “This isn't even the most disturbing part.” She picked up a pack of cigarettes. “Really Sam? Menthols?” She took a disgusted sniff at the pack before throwing it back at the bottom of the vehicle. He grimaced, equally disgusted. 

“Here.” Said Dean, picking up something else from the bottom of the car. “Gas receipt. Few towns over.” 

After closing the garage door, they went to the Impala and drove to the gas station. 

Dean looked inside the store. “You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? 'God, this looks familiar', deja vu vibes?” 

Sam shook his head. They all left and walked inside the store, but the clerk immediately look at them, angry. 

“You. Outta here now, I'm calling the cops.” He pointed towards Emily and Sam, who had entered slightly after Dean. Emily pointed at herself, confused.

“You talking to me?” Her mind started to wander around, trying to guess on which occasion she had entered the store and why the clerk would be so angry at her. 

“No, the tall guy! Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging.” Said the clerk, who had the phone already in his hand.

“This guy?” Asked Emily. “What, you drinking malt liquor? Who are you?!” 

“Not after he whipped the friggin' bottle at my head.”

“This guy?” Repeated Dean. 

“What, am I speaking Urdu?” The clerk started dialing something on the phone. 

“Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything-” Tried to say Sam. 

“Tell your story walkin', pal.” The clerk interrupted him. “Po-po will be here in five.”

Dean approached him. “Wait, wait, put the phone down.” He said. “Sam, go wait in the car.”

“But Dean-” Emily glanced at Dean and started walking Sam towards the door. 

“Let's go, come on.” Sam reluctantly walked back to the car. Emily giggled. 

“You find this funny?” 

“Just the part where you are basically an unhinged version of me, at least you were when you came here.” 

“I don't even remember doing that.” 

“I know.” Said Emily, suddenly serious again. “That's the not funny part.” 

Dean came out of the store soon after. They started driving again. 

“What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like Emily than you.” Asked Dean. 

“That's the same thing I said.” Shrugged Emily. 

“Emily, wait- Dean, turn down that road.”

“What?”

“I don't know how I know, I just do.”

Dean turned down the road Sam had just pointed to, which ended up being someone's property. The house had plenty of emergency lighting and security cameras. Whoever lived there was very careful about their surroundings. 

They sneaked around the house. The first thing Emily noticed was a broken window. Then, Sam pointed at a disabled alarm. 

“Sam, I'm starting to be seriously worried. Why were you here?” 

“I- I don't remember.” 

“Alright, no panic, okay?” Said Dean, walking in the middle of them and approaching the broken window. “Let's see what's inside.” 

Emily soon regretted entering the house. There was a strong scent of blood and it also smelled a little bit of dead body. The vision they came across when they entered the bedroom was even worse. 

“Holy shit.” Emily covered her mouth the second she entered and turned back out when she saw the body on the floor. His throat was cut, blood pooling all around him, his eyes still staring, terrified. 

“Dean, I did this.” Said Sam. Emily wasn't looking anymore. She was standing in the adjacent look, trying not to vomit for both the scent and the amount of blood she had just witnessed. It wasn't like it was the first time she saw blood. But when it was human it always hit differently. Maybe it was for the good that she never became a surgeon. 

As she thought that, she heard Sam and Dean grow more alarmed.

“What else do you need?” Asked Sam. “I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood…“

“I don't know, man, why don't you tell me?!” Asked Dean. “Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a reason, you know; self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something! By the way, he doesn't have any ID.”

Even then, as Sam looked at the dead body he seemed convinced to have killed, Emily couldn't feel anything coming from Sam. Did he suddenly learn how to control his powers? Or was there something else going on. 

“Emily, come here, you might want to see this.” Said Dean's voice. Taking a big breath, Emily came back into the room. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking her up and down. 

“Yeah, it's just the stench, it's horrible.” 

“I thought you were used to it.”

“Well, turns out I'm not!” She said, bitter, getting closer to the screen. “What did you find?” 

“Surveillance tape, yogurt. I think they might tell us what happened here.” 

Dean started the tapes, which showed Sam entering the room and violently killing the person who lived inside. Emily didn't say anything, she just crossed her arms and waited for Dean to say something. Before he talked, he looked at her, probably expecting her to have an opinion, as she usually did.

But not that time. Emily didn't want to have an opinion. She had built an image of Sam as the calm brother, the one to speak to when something was wrong, the one who would have listened and the one who wouldn't get drunk so he could drive her and Dean back safely. 

Seeing him killing someone suddenly reminded that he was, just like Dean, trained like a soldier. That all the calm he showed was just a choice and if he wanted to kill, he would be able to kill. And he did. 

So Emily stood there, staring at an indefinite point in front of her. Dean started talking. 

“Alright listen. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?” Sam nodded. After finding a letter addressed to the dead man, Steve Wandell, Dean resolutely took the computer's hard drive and smashed it onto the floor, making Emily flinch. “Wipe your prints, then we go.” He announced, tossing Sam a rag. 

They silently got back in the motel. Emily still had not said a word and Dean had become progressively more nervous throughout the silent journey. “Emily.” He called.

“Uh?” She answered, pensive. 

“You haven't said a single word for hours. Should I be worried about you too?”

“What?” She sat straighter in her chair. “No, I'm just thinking.” 

“Alright.” Dean glared at her and then closed the motel door. “We get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror.” Sam looked at him, silent. Emily raised her eyebrows, not really liking the solution provided by Dean, but nontheless gathered a t-shirt she had left on the floor. “Look, I know this is bad, okay? You gotta snap out of it.” Emily stuffed her shirt in her bag, expecting Sam to answer Dean. When he didn't, Dean called his name again. “Sam, say something!” 

“Just get some sleep and leave in the morning?” Repeated Sam, stern. “Murder, Dean. That's what I did.” Emily stopped preparing her bag to look at him, frowning. 

“Maybe.” Stuttered Dean, looking for words. “Hey, we don't know, it could have been a shapeshifter!” 

“Dean, come on-” Said Emily, aggressively closing the zip on her bag. “We saw the tapes, there was no eye flare.” 

“Yeah, but it wasn't him! I mean it might have been you, but it wasn't you.” He pointed at Sam.

“Dean, that doesn't make any sense.” Emily sat down on the bed. 

“Emily, what side are you on? Do you really think Sam did it?” 

Emily didn't answer. She didn't want to think about Sam being able to commit murder just like that. She wanted to find an excuse, a possibility, but nothing made any sense. Every scenario she made up in her head didn't comply with reality: Sam could have done it. But still, it was weird. Why didn't he remember anything? And why did her powers suddenly stop working with him? The weird, white noise coming from Sam was unusual. Especially in a situation where she was sure, Sam would have been full of emotions. “Emily?” Repeated Dean, looking for an answer. 

“I don't know, okay? This whole thing… very weird if you ask me. But- Dean, if you need to find an excuse for what Sam - or Sam’s evil twin - did, at least- at least find a good one, okay?!” 

“Listen-” 

“Dean, she's right.” Interrupted Sam, frowning. Emily leaned on the separator between the door and the room. “For the last few weeks I've been having... I've been having these feelings.” 

It wasn't true. Emily knew that if he did, she would have felt them. It was the first day in a long, long time she was not connected with him. Sam sat down on the bed and Dean quickly followed. 

“What feelings?” He asked.

“Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it. It just gets worse. Day by day, it gets worse. I’ve been feeling…“ He raised his hand, pointing at Emily. She recognized that description. She felt the same way, all the time. She had always thought it was because she had lost her mother, her little brother, that it was because John and Dean were absolutely unsustainable people to have around, but what if it was something the demon had done to her? But then, there was the fact that Sam had not been feeling any of that. Or at least not as intensely as he was describing. 

Or, maybe he had learnt how to block her out all of a sudden. 

”...just like I do.” Concluded Emily. “Well, that doesn’t make me any less worried.” 

“You never told me this.” Said Dean, nervous.

“I didn't want to scare you.” As Sam said that, Emily raised her eyebrows and with a big exhale, pushed herself away from the wall and stood in the middle of the two beds. 

“Dean, the yellow-eyed demon, you know he has plans for us. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too.”

“Wait- you’re saying that…“ Intervened Emily. “All this time, I’ve been angry because of that? The demon is just trying to turn me into a killer?” 

“Yeah, I thought you might agree with me.” 

“I’m not agreeing with you- Sam, what’s going on? Why are you blocking me out like that?” 

Sam seemed surprised. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You don’t? Because we’ve been basically sharing the same brain for months. What’s up with that now? Where did that go?!” 

Sam stood up, looking at her. His expression was intelligible and Emily wasn’t able to understand his intentions until she got hit in her face. Losing her balance, she hit her head on the wall behind her and quickly passed out, not really able to decipher what was happening around her.

#spn fic #supernatural #sister!winchester #oc #dean winchester #sam winchester #oc!sister sinceter #sister winchester fic #sister!readerxdean #sister!reader #supernatural s2 #season 2 supernatural #spnthetwosidesofsam #the two sides of sam #tw #platonic #spn fics #fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #soft!dean #s2 #be the young #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural angst #supernatural sister fic #spn #spn fanfic #ao3 #supernatural a03 fanfict #sister fic

[prosopopeya]

Dean watches heartstopper fic?? 👀 pls tell me more

YES!!! so the basic premise is: it's post canon, cas and jack are human and living in the bunker with dean and sam. dean starts watching heartstopper with jack and cas on jack's insistence, and gradually it starts to make things click for dean in his mind about his own sexuality and his feelings for cas. the fic is set up in sections that kind of mirror in some capacity the different episodes; chapter one is "meet," chapter two is "crush," etc. the angst surrounding him and cas getting together is kind of minimal and is a lot more about dean coming to terms with his bisexuality

as a fun side bonus sam spends nearly the entire fic completely and utterly oblivious while simultaneously accidentally microaggressing against dean and cas

here is a snippet!!!

On impulse, Dean reaches out for the computer and sets it between them. The screen doesn't quite lay right though, so he adjusts his knee, and Cas starts moving too, his leg coming closer, until together they've formed a mostly even surface for the laptop. Cas's legs are under the covers, and Dean's are on top, but he can still feel the warmth of his leg through the blankets. 

Dean hits the spacebar and the show starts playing again. 

They don't speak, or move, in a mostly very normal way until the bit with Charlie asleep on the couch, and Nick hovering his hand over his, sparks flying. Then suddenly they are Not Moving in a very fidgety way, and Dean's aware of every point of contact between them. The press of Cas's leg against his knee. The brush of skin where their elbows just touch. The warmth between them.

When the credits roll, when the next episode autoplays, Dean says, "Shouldn't we wait for Jack?" 

"That's okay," Cas says, quickly. "He'll understand." 

More silence, more stillness. In the show, there's a party, and Nick finds out an old friend is a lesbian, and Dean thinks so hard about Charlie that he almost feels her absence like a missing limb. 

"It's good," Dean says, breaking their silence finally, "that these kinds of shows are just out there. You know? Just sweet and wholesome and shit. Good for Jack and--Claire and Kaia, you know, to see this kind of stuff." 

"Yes, it is," Cas agrees softly. Dean feels his eyes on him. 

"I didn't see a lot of this stuff," Dean gestures at the screen, at the two girls kissing in the middle of the party, at Nick watching, seeing, "when I was growing up. I mean, stuff like this existed, but I--" He closes his mouth, glances at Cas out of the corner of his eye, pulls his arms in closer to himself. For some reason, he remembers being in a confessional a few years ago, saying something like what he's about to say. "But it feels different now, watching this. I don't know what it would've been like if I'd seen this when I was Jack's age--well, a teenager, I guess." 

Dean's heart is starting to race, he thinks, or just getting louder, thudding harder. His face feels hot. Cas's fingers brush his arm. This moment--the room, the laptop, everything outside of the two of them and this bed--starts to feel like it's swirling around him, like walking down one of those wacky tunnels at a carnival. 

"What do you mean?" 

Dean glances over, quick, because Cas's face is too much to take in now, glowing in the light of the computer screen. He shrugs, adjusts his leg, drawing it away from Cas and making it so he has to adjust the laptop again. Cas, reflexively, reaches out to help, their fingers touching. Dean pulls his arms back in, gripping his own elbows.

"I didn't understand, for a long time, about love." Cas's words are slow, hesitant. Careful. "I thought I did, maybe, though truthfully I didn't think much about it at all. I don't think I completely appreciated the breadth of the experience until I became human myself." 

His mind offers up the memory of Cas in his little vest, his face when Dean approached the register, when they were saying goodbye. Dean curls his fingers tighter against his skin.

"Before, I might've felt--" Cas cuts himself off. "But it wasn't until I was human that I realized what it really was." 

On the screen, the music's swelling, and the boys are kissing, their first kiss, and something inside Dean wants.

Dean turns to him, abrupt. "Cas, you said that-- You said you wanted something you couldn't have." Cas inhales, a little sharply. But Dean has to ask; he has to know. "But if--if what you wanted was to just--" How can he even say it, put it into words? What is he even trying to describe? "If you wanted it to be me and you, then you've got that. I can't picture a future for me without you in it." When the words come to him, they almost startle him. "I can't picture a future for me with anyone else, either. Not--not like that." 

Once he's said it out loud, Dean can almost hear the answer already, but if he'd been ready to want that, to have that, just as it was, then maybe Cas is the same? Maybe this is all some misunderstanding; maybe Cas wants what Dean's wanted all along, and they really can just go back to being normal.

"Dean--" Cas's eyes are widening, his hand on Dean's arm again, but Dean isn't really seeing him at all as he stops the death grip on his elbows and reaches--just reaches.

"But was there-- Is there something else that you want?" 

It's stupid that he can't even articulate it. What is he, some kid? Hell, those kids did a better job of asking for what they wanted. 

Cas's face kind of crumples, his shoulders slumping. "That's not important, Dean." 

But it is that important. He has to make Cas understand. 

"I love you--" There's a thrill that runs through him, electricity up his spine, when he decides that he's not going to tack on any qualifier to that--no brother, no family--but Cas cuts in before he could've, even if he wanted to.

"I know--"

"--and I thought I knew what that meant, but now I--" Dean stops, searching Cas's face, but it's hard to read in the darkness. "I don't know."

When Cas speaks, he sounds breathless. "What are you saying, Dean?" 

and for a fun bonus, here is accidentally homophobic Sam:

Cas clears his throat. "No, I--" He flicks his eyes to Dean before he seems to make a decision and firmly turns his focus to Sam. "I think I've isolated the problem." 

"Oh yeah?" Sam says, like from the far end of a tunnel, at least to Dean's ears.

"Yes. I didn't have any issue at all last night falling asleep while Dean was still in the room. I think--being alone--it's too much like the Empty. It's difficult to relax, and then I carry that anxiety into my dreams." 

Sam had shot Dean a delighted, mocking, little brother sort of smile when Cas mentioned falling asleep, but now he chews his toast thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Maybe we could set you and Jack up to share a room." 

"No," Cas cuts in swiftly, maybe too swiftly because that draws Sam's attention again. Cas doesn't look at Dean, but Dean thinks he sees him react to Dean's warning face as he straightens his spine, just a little. "No, I wouldn't want to trouble him. He doesn't need to worry about me. Dean said he didn't mind helping." 

Dean schools his expression in time for Sam to grin over at him. Cas shovels eggs into his mouth. 

"Did he?" 

Dean feels himself shrugging back into the gruff act like he used to shrug into his dad's jacket. "It's not a big deal. We used to share a room all the time." 

"Uh-huh," Sam says, still grinning. "Should we set Cas's room up for your doctor-mandated sleepovers?" 

"Don't be jealous," Dean fires back. "We'll still braid your hair whenever you want." 

#ahhh i really need to get back into it #i did in fact make myself cry rereading for a snippet #thank you for asking!!!!

[musings-of-a-lovesick-fool]

Shiptober Day 29

Prompt: Captured

Ship: Joseph Seed x Deputy Dean Sinclaire

Warning(s): Canon-typical violence, violent thoughts

Words: 1, 309

Dean's head is killing him, his muscles ache and he swears he can feel his bones cracking as he moves. He groans as he shifts, halting as the concrete ground under him was suddenly feeling more plush than usual. Blearily he blinks his eyes open and realises he's no longer where he thought he was… Where had he thought he was? The veteran centre? No he hadn't been there in months… He hadn't stepped foot in Holland Valley since John's last hissy fit so he wouldn't have been anywhere near his bunker.

Pushing himself up he blinks away the sleep in his eyes and takes in the flaking white walls, glancing down at the beige blanket thrown over his body. He goes to grab it but a sharp pain stops him and he hisses, snapping his head up and finding his hands were cuffed to the bedpost. Of fucking course. Wherever he was wasn't friendly then, he just hoped it wasn't—

"Oh, good, you're awake,"

Dean feels his blood run cold at the familiar calm cadence that comes from the doorway. He warily turns his head and sure enough finds his gaze locking onto blue eyes, hidden behind that obnoxious wash of yellow from his aviators. Joseph smiles, one surely meant to be pleasant but it just makes the deputy's insides churn anxiously. This was new and that never meant anything good.

"Where am I?" Dean asks, voice hushed as he watches the man like a hawk. Joseph walks around the bed, setting a tray carrying a plate and glass of water down on the bedside table.

"You're safe deputy don't worry," Joseph hums and Dean bites back a scoff. Safe. With him? Yeah right.

"Why am I here?" He asks, his eyes darting from the food and the cult leader as he pulls a chair up to the side of the bed and sits down.

"I found you bleeding out in one of Faith's conservatories—I suppose you're not as indestructible as you think you are," Joseph's tone is even but his eyes have a veil of condescension that makes Dean's blood boil. 

"That doesn't answer my question," He mutters bitterly and Joseph sighs, leaning back in the chair and clasping his hands together.

"I had a choice, deputy; I could have left you there to die. Yes, it would have been much easier to do that but… I knew I couldn't. We are not quite finished, your path is not complete and I still have faith in you, even if you have none in me," Joseph leans forward and rests a hand on Dean's bandaged shoulder. His eyes were gentle and Dean stiffened as that hand raised to brush his messy hair back, tucking it behind his ear.

Fuck this guy always talking about his stupid path; always talking like he knew everything. He was just as clueless as the rest of them and if he opened his eyes for a second he'd see the only path either of them were on was one of pain and mutual destruction.

"If you spent less time fighting me deputy I think you'd be able to see what i've been trying to tell you all this time," Joseph's hums after Dean's lack of verbal response, caressing his bruised cheekbone with a distant look in his eyes.

"I can see just fine, I just think you're full of shit," Dean snaps, jutting up his elbow to knock Joseph's arm away. The preacher sighs and retracts his hand back to his lap, watching as Dean pulls himself up into a sitting position and tugged at the handcuffs. After a moment of watchung him silently Joseph stands and reaches into his pocket, Dean freezes and watches his hand. Confusion washes over him as he produces a key, leaning over to unlock the handcuffs.

Dean is too stunned to move as the metal hits the white sheets with a dull clang, his brown eyes locked onto Joseph as he takes a cautious step back—giving Dean space to decide his next move.

"You should eat, your body needs it," Joseph encourages him softly, motioning to the plate and Dean rubs his sore wrists as he tries to think. What was he playing at here? What made him think being alone with the guy tearing his entire operation down without the safety net of him being cuffed was a smart idea? Maybe he thought because Dean was injured he wasn't a threat, that he wasn't twice as dangerous than when he wasn't aching all over.

He can see there's a hesitance in his blue eyes, like he's ready for Dean to throw himself off the bed and wrap his hands around his throat. But there's something else, an assuredness. Dean stares him down as he drags his heavy legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet meeting the hardwood floor as his hands dig into the mattress. 

Once again Dean was being presented with an opportunity. Joseph once again was basically laying himself bare and giving Dean the perfect chance to end this war once and for all. All because he was so certain in his vision, so certain he knew what Dean would do. It pissed Dean off to no end.

He reached over and grabbed the fork off the tray, no knife—probably the only smart move Joseph had made here.

Joseph keeps his gaze steady as Dean flips the fork, his movements almost thoughtful as he glances between Joseph and the plate full of appetising food. He was hungry, he couldn't lie but he didn't know what was going to happen in the next few minutes. Peggies were probably right outside and by the time Dean had finished eating they could be in here pointing their guns at him and escorting Joseph back to safety.

"Dean,"

He freezes. He knew his name—Since when did he know his name?

"I am just trying to help you. I don't do this for myself, I am doing this for my family—for you," Joseph kneels on the ground in front of him, reaches out with his rosary wrapped hand and places it on Dean's knee.

"I know what you think of me and I know you won't believe a word I say, but everything I am doing is for the betterment of everyone. You cannot see it yet, but you will, I will show you." He whispers the words with a conviction that leaves a lump in Dean's throat; it sounded like a threat. Not one he wanted to see the end of. Joseph rises again, grabs the back of Dean's neck and presses a firm kiss to his forehead.

"Hm, you have a temperature," Joseph murmurs against his warm skin before straightening and letting go of him, "I'll get you antibiotics. Please eat," He squeezes Dean's shoulder, the gentle command falling over him. He clenches the fork in his hand, envisions himself burying it into Joseph's carotid artery and watching the life bleed from his eyes—but he stays still. 

Joseph walks out of the room and after the door shuts Dean curls in on himself, running a hand down his face as he lets out the breath he'd been holding. What the fuck was that? One cryptic sentence and he freezes up like a deer in headlights—unbelievable. He's sure if Michael were in his place he would have taken Joseph out before he could blink, but then maybe if it were his older brother instead Joseph wouldn't have gotten so close.

Dean hated to think he wasn't being taken seriously by this man who threw him and this whole County into chaos. Hated to think he wasn't a threat. But he wasn't helping, just sitting and letting Joseph talk and touch him like he was a docile pet.

Fuck—he had to get out of here.

#far cry 5 oc #Joseph Seed x oc #Deputy Dean Tag #Ship: Through Heaven's Eyes #Oneshot Tag #Shiptober2022