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ro-sham-no · 1 month

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Sam dies again, shortly after being resurrected by Dean’s crossroad demon deal. It was an accident, just a hazard of the job. Dean couldn’t stop it.

Dean goes crazy after it happens. He has no more soul left to bargain with. He goes numb.

He couldn’t care less about his inevitable, one-way trip to Hell, the moot deal that it now is. Nothing could be worse than this wretched hopelessness, the gnawing blackness that grows inside him with every passing moment. His thoughts plague him,

Is Sam even in heaven? After all the demons’ taunts about him coming back Wrong- had Dean doomed him, his baby brother, his son, his boy, to Hell?

Sammy's gone, and Dean’s soul is still sold, and it's so unfair-

Dean’s kept Sam’s corpse- Sam, he’s kept Sam, again. Has laid him out on a shitty, stained mattress. Again. He’s also laid out every single fireable weapon in their considerable arsenal next to Sam on the bed, all loaded. Every second that goes by, the itch to grab them gets stronger.

He’s out of options. Trying another crossroads demon had done nothing. Frantic, useless researching about resurrection, which he’d already done the first time - nothing. Praying to god, for the first time ever, saying please, please, I know I’m fresh out of any sort of Grace, but surely you can see that He’s not. Sammy doesn’t deserve to be in Hell, please-

Nothing.

The guns on the mattress glare at him. All gleaming, metallic resilience, taunting him, sitting so starkly cold next to Dean’s dead baby brother. Dean’s hands haven’t given up their tell-tale tremor since it happened. Since Sam---

The tremor is one that he’s felt on and off throughout the years - only appearing on those not-so-rare occasions where Sam had taken hits just hard enough, gotten cuts just deep enough that Dean would have the Thought strike through him like lightning,

Sam might not come back from this one.

The end of Dean’s sleeve is soaked as it covers his trembling hand, what is probably snot and spit mixing in with more and more tears as he alternates between pitiful comforts. Wedging his shaking hands deep into the sockets of his eyes as he convulses through his sobs and cries, then shifting them to press tensely against his teeth through his lips, trying in vain to calm down and keep quiet, and then moving to his nose to wipe away the aftermath and start all over again.

Sam’s not coming back from this one.

I failed.

It’s over.

Dean abruptly stands, shoving and tearing the guns away, violently shoving his sleeve to his face to dry it, having to move up higher on his arm each time as his sleeves caught more of his heart leaking out of his eyes, nose, and mouth. He lets all but Sam’s beloved Taurus recklessly fall to the floor.

His stupid, beloved Taurus that the kid’d saved up enough money to buy for himself - all honest-earned money, after getting a grocery store job he applied for the second he turned 14. Cheap-ass Brazilian gun, Dad had called it with derision, but he’d let Sam buy it all the same.

Dean had thought, at the time, that Sam’s choice of gun was just because it was, in fact, affordable and non-American (Sam was never shy about his lack of patriotism, even when Dad gave him all the more hell for it). But he hadn’t caught Sam slipping away to pawn shops and military resale stores while Dad was away and Dean worked dead-end odd jobs to pay the bills like civilians for a while. But then Sam had found it, them, and then Dean had certainly noticed.

See, when Sam had first gotten the thing, it came with practical black grips. Factory standard, since Sam had wanted it new - forever a priss about owning something that wasn’t secondhand. But then, unbeknownst to Dean, Sam had searched high and low to find what he wanted, what he knew existed because he had seen it in a gun magazine once (he had frantically torn out the page as soon as he saw it, hidden in the back of the gas station and waiting for Dean to stop flirting with the cashier). So, Sam had saved up and played the long game, pawn shop after pawn shop, and it paid off.

He’d replaced the black grips - not speaking a peep to either Dean or Dad about it - with pearl ones. And sure, it wasn’t ivory, necessarily, and the stainless steel of the Taurus wasn’t exactly nickel-plated, but the effect was the same.

Sam’s very first gun of his own, which he bought with his own, labor-earned cash, oh-so-clearly fashioned after Dean’s.

And now here it is, cradled against Dean’s chest. He’d crawled into bed with Sam at some point during his weepy recollection, resting his head on Sam’s chest in oppositional mimicry of how they would lay together as kids. Sam, curled up under Dean’s chin, forever trying to make himself smaller in Dean’s arms even as he grew bigger.

But it’s Dean’s turn to be small. Dean’s turn, as he tugs Sam’s (cold, lifeless) arm over his back in a weak embrace, slipping his arm around Sam as best he can, squeezing and holding tight as he shakes apart. Sam’s Taurus is gripped surely in Dean’s hand, pressed under his chin.

His Colt, after which the Taurus had been so lovingly, painstakingly fashioned, lies discarded on the ground.

#(#gencest #samdean #devotion #codependency #dean winchester #dean whump #)

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jackles010378 · 1 month

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A Gift of a Lifetime

(Dean winchester x you)

Sammy phones you with a surprise you never thought you'd get, and just in time for a birthday you'll never forget.

(Not gonna lie I should've posted this on my birthday but I forgot 🫣 it's someone's birthday somewhere, right?! Enjoy guys 🥰)

Y/n was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels, when her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and felt a surge of hope. It was Sam Winchester, her dead boyfriend’s brother.

“Hey, Sam,” she answered, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

“y/n, I have something to tell you,” Sam said, his voice serious. “It’s about Dean.”

Y/n felt her heart skip a beat. Dean Winchester, her boyfriend of two years, had died four months ago, after he had sold his soul a year before to bring Sammy back to life. She had watched him get torn apart by hellhounds, and had buried him with Sam. They had mourned him every day since then, missing his smile, his jokes, his kisses.

“What about Dean?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“y/n, he’s alive,” Sam said.

Y/n could not believe what they were hearing. Dean was alive. How? Why? Where?

“Sam, are you sure?” she asked, her mind racing.

“Yes, I am sure. I saw him with my own eyes. He is here, at Bobby’s. He just showed up out of nowhere, with no memory of what happened. He said he dug himself out of his grave.”

Y/n felt a wave of emotions wash over her. Relief, joy, confusion, anger. How could Dean be alive, after all this time? How could he not remember anything? How could he just show up, without a word?

“Sam, I need to see him. I need to talk to him. Can you put him on the phone?”

“y/n, I do not think that’s a good idea. He is still confused, and he doesn’t know you’re alive. He thinks you died with him.”

Y/n felt a pang of pain. Dean thought they were dead. How could he think that? She had survived the hellhounds with Sam. She had stayed with Sam, helping him hunt and cope. They had never given up hope that Dean wouldn't come back.

“Sam, please. I need to hear his voice. I need to tell him I love him.”

“y/n, why don't I tell him I caught a case, and I bring him round to see you instead."

Y/n felt her heart beating faster at the thought of seeing Dean again.

“Then when can I see him?”

“We can swing by in a few days. It’s your birthday soon, right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Then that’s when you’ll see him. It’ll be a surprise. A good one, I hope. I’ll bring him round to yours, I’ll tell him I found a case and we gotta interview a witness.”

“Okay. Okay, Sam. Thank you. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for bringing him back.”

“Y/n, don’t thank me. Thank whatever force brought him back. I don’t know what it is, or what it wants. But I know one thing. Dean loved you, still loves you, he deserves to be happy. And so do you.”

“Thank you, Sam. I love you. I love you both.”

“I love you too, y/n. See you tomorrow”.

Y/n didn't get much sleep over the next few nights. Her excitement was too much. She tossed and turned, thinking about Dean. She wondered how he looked, how he felt, how he would react when he saw her. She wondered if he did still love her, if he still wanted her, if he still needed her.

Although she had barely any sleep, Y/n got up early on the day of her birthday. She showered, dressed, and prepared breakfast. She set the table, lit some candles, and played their favourite songs. She waited, anxiously, for the knock on the door. Sammy had shot her a text they were a few minutes away.

Y/n was getting lost in her own little world sitting at the table nursing a now cold cup of coffee. That was until she was pulled out of it when she heard the knocking. She ran to the door, opened it, and saw Sam standing there, smiling. Behind him, she saw Dean.

He looked the same as she remembered him. His green eyes, his freckles, his smirk. He was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. He was wearing his fed suit, she always like it when he wore a suit. He was also holding a bouquet of roses. “Er, Sammy I don’t get why we got flowers for………”

“y/n,” Sam said, stepping aside. “This is Dean. Dean, this is y/n. Your girlfriend.”

Dean looked at y/n, his eyes wide with shock. He dropped the roses and took a step forward.

“y/n?” he whispered; his voice hoarse. “Is that really you?”

Y/n nodded, tears streaming down her face. She threw her arms around Dean and hugged him tight. She felt his arms wrap around her, and his breath on her neck. She felt his heartbeat, and his warmth. She felt him alive.

“Dean,” she sobbed, her voice muffled by his chest. “Dean, I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, y/n,” Dean said, his voice cracking. “I love you too.”

Sam silently excused himself knowing they would want some space.

They pulled back and looked into each other’s eyes. They saw the love, the pain, the joy, the relief. They saw the past, the present, the future. They saw each other.

They learned in and kissed. They kissed like they had never kissed before. They kissed like they had been waiting for this moment for eternity. They kissed like they were the only two people in the world.

They kissed like they were alive. “Best birthday present ever” Y/n said as her lips hovered over Deans. He pulled back enough to look into her eyes “Happy birthday sweetheart” he pulled her back into a kiss that took her breath.

And so, the story of Dean Winchester and y/n continued—a story of love, death, and resurrection. A story of miracles, mysteries, and surprises. A story of happy birthdays, and happy endings.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck @angelbabyyy99

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #jackles #supernatural #jensen ross ackles #spn cast #deanwinchtser #jensen ackles gifs #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester gifs #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic

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slvtwh0re · 9 months

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To Hell And Back

smut; dean winchester, spn

Four months without Dean was worse than any pain you’d ever went through. Somehow, someway, he’s back from Hell and in your arms again, and the two of you are left to pick up the pieces. But first, there’s something both of you need - each other.

Warnings: character “death”, grief, crying, fingering, p in v

It was the sort of pain that didn't go away, no matter how much healing I put into it. It was something that lingered, memories that would haunt my dreams and cloud my mind. It was a pain that pulled at my heart, trying to drag me towards him no matter how impossible it was.

Watching my boyfriend get ripped apart and dragged down to Hell was an image that would forever be embedded in my head. Four months ago, Dean's time had run out - he had sold his soul, and he had to face the repercussions.

I couldn't even be mad at him for making the deal, because he only did it to save Sam's life. But now, everything was falling apart without him. I'd spent the last four months at Bobby's, who hardly trusted me alone half of the time. Sam had went off by himself, taking his grief out through hunting and God knows what else.

Downstairs, I heard a clatter from the kitchen. It wouldn't have caught my attention, other than the fact that Bobby wasn't home, so it couldn't be him. Although I hadn't hunted in months and I was most definitely rusty, I still had the same instincts as always. I grabbed a knife from my nightstand and crept downstairs.

The first thing I thought was a demon, coming to get revenge on either Bobby or me for something. And since Bobby wasn't here, it was up to me. In the back of my mind, I could hear Dean, walking me through each step.

When I emerged at entrance of the living room, my feet locked in place. The knife slipped from my hand, clattering against the hardwood and catching the attention of the person in front of me. Whoever - or whatever - it was looked exactly like my late boyfriend.

But it couldn't be Dean, because I had seen him die. I had buried his body alongside Sam and Bobby.

"No..." I murmured, shaking my head and taking a step back.

Dean's hand reached out for me, but he paused when I flinched away. "Y/N..."

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears brimming them fall down my face. "You're not him..."

"Y/N, it's me..."

Everything in my nature told me to throw my knife at him and grab the nearest flask of holy water, but I couldn't move. Whether it was Dean or not, I didn't have the strength to kill him. He was my greatest weakness, and it had never been more obvious.

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered. "I'm going crazy... You're dead..."

My eyes flicked back up to Dean and my face softened. He took a few steps forward - almost hesitantly - and wrapped his arms around me.

His embrace shot electricity through my veins. It was like revisiting a drug I'd been sober from for months. For the first time in four months, I felt completely and utterly safe.

I knew it was something that should've been impossible - my dead boyfriend coming back from Hell. But when he kissed me, a soft peck over my lips, I knew it was him. He was scared to upset me, making sure to carefully formulate each move, but the kiss was enough to prove himself to me. I knew Dean like the back of my hand. I knew how he felt, how he tasted.

When he pulled away, he rested his hand against my cheek and cradled my face. He took a moment to look me over, like he was trying to remember every small detail about me.

"How...?" I breathed.

"I don't know, baby," he told me, resting his forehead against mine. "I don't know..."

Out of all the emotions I felt, relief was the most prominent. It washed away any sense of confusion or pain I felt, and suddenly, my lips were on his. My kiss was hungry, trying to make up for months worth of time. He gasped in surprise, taking it as his cue to grab the back of my thighs. He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

"Upstairs," I managed to tell him. "Spare bedroom..."

He was just as urgent as I was. There was no time to ask questions or stare in shock. I had Dean again, and I wasn’t going to let go until he reminded me of the things I'd been missing so badly. He was the same, craving the feeling of me in every way possible. He hadn't even had time to ask about where Sam was - which was an important conversation that we'd have later.

I thanked God that Bobby was gone and we had the house to ourselves, because there was no way either of us were waiting. Dean carried me upstairs and into the room I'd resided in for those terrible weeks. He set me on the bed - the bed that I'd spent countless hours sobbing, begging, and screaming in.

"I missed you so much," he said softly.

There was so many things I wanted to ask, like if he was okay or needed anything. But I could see it in his eyes - what he needed was this. I was sure he wanted to forget, because I could only imagine how bad it was for him. He could talk to me on his own terms, but what we needed now was each other.

"I waited for you," I told him. I flipped over so I was positioned on his lap, pinning him down underneath me.

He tensed under the feeling of me pressing myself against his waist, just like he'd always done. I had almost forgotten how it felt to make love to Dean, all the little details that I loved so much.

"Good," he praised. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to take care of you... Let me make up for it."

Shaking my head, I replied, "No. I'm taking care of you tonight."

Dean always put me first. He tried his hardest to reassure me in any way he could, to distract me from the bad things that surrounded us. It was an instinct for him to take care of me, but I wanted him to know that it was okay when he needed it, too. He didn't argue as I began pulling his shirt off, because I think he knew it, too.

In the dim light of the room, I saw the outline of a handprint on his upper arm. I furrowed my eyebrows, reaching out to gently place my hand over top of it. For a moment, Dean seemed nervous, like he was about to flinch. It was like he wanted to hide from my gaze, but the moment my skin touched his, he relaxed.

Other than that scar, his body was the same as it always was. He had no scars from the hellhounds, no remaining injuries. He'd been completely healed. He was the same Dean I'd had before.

I leaned down to lock my lips on his neck. My hands snuck down to unbutton his jeans. He lifted his hips, kicking his pants off. He slipped his hands under my shirt and quickly discarded it. While I worked my hips against his, he ran his hands over my body, reminiscing in all the times we'd done this before.

"I love you," I said, a reminder I was sure he'd missed hearing. I began to remove his boxers, using my hand to teasingly hold him.

"I love you," he repeated between deep breaths. His hand reached for mine and he grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand out of his boxers. Suddenly, I was beneath him and he was pulling my shorts off with fervor.

I breathed his name, surprised by the way he'd taken control so quickly. He grinned at the sound of the word leaving my lips, and he said, "This won't even begin to make up for lost time, but let me start?"

Of course, I nodded. There had been so many nights that I would've died just to see him again, to feel him once more. There was no way I was missing an opportunity now.

He ran one of his fingers over me, feeling how wet I was. For a few minutes, he used his fingers to explore inside of me while he softly moved his lips against mine. It took mere seconds for him to relearn exactly how my body worked. Once he had, he removed his fingers, only to replace them with his cock.

The feeling of him pushing into me was still so familiar. I exhaled sharply, overwhelmed in the best way possible. He buried his face in my neck, pausing for a moment to allow us both to relish in the feeling. My fingers traced circles at the base of his neck and I kissed the side of his head softly.

He began moving, slowly at first. His mouth was busy leaving marks around my neck, but I was focused on the rhythm of his hips. With each thrust, he got rougher, sending waves of pleasure through me. My mouth was open and I gasped every time he moved. It was like all my senses were heightened now, having gone so long without him.

It didn't take long for me to feel tears brim my eyes while I thought about how much I'd missed this - missed him. How I thought I'd never experience this again. I loved him more than life itself, and watching him die - screaming for me and Sam - was something that would always haunt my dreams. But somehow, someway, he was back and I had him again. Emotions and pleasure were flooding my veins, and I couldn't help but blink a few tears away.

Dean heard me and he lifted his head, wiping my tears away with his thumb. His movements never stopped, but he analyzed my face, looking for any signs that he should. I quickly sniffled and smiled softly, showing him that everything was okay. I was more than okay, and that's why I was crying.

"I just missed you," I assured him in a whisper.

"I'm here now," he said against my lips.

I moaned into the kiss when I felt his hand between my legs. His fingers rubbed small circles over my clit, building my release and bringing me closer to the edge.

"You don't ever have to worry about losing me again," he added.

It wasn't a promise he could make, and we both knew that. But in the moment, it was exactly what I needed to hear. My body went limp in his arms and I gasped for air as I came undone. Dean grunted at the feeling of me tensing around him and I felt his hips falter. Latching my lips over his pulse was enough to make him finish, and I took the time to leave a mark behind - something he would surely admire later.

He laid beside me in bed, keeping his arm around my waist. It was like he was scared to let go of me, but I didn't mind.

"Where's Sam?" he asked. "And Bobby?"

"Bobby's out, he'll be back soon. Sam... well, he's hunting."

"He went off by himself?"

"Bobby and I both tried convincing him to stay here," I told him. "But he insisted on leaving. I tried going with him, but... Bobby didn't let me, and Sam convinced me to stay. It’s a long story.”

That was enough to tell Dean just how bad things were after he died. He fell silent, replaying my words in his head.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

"You have nothing to apologize for," I answered, shaking my head.

"No... You shouldn't have had to see what you did. I put you through all of this."

"You did it to save Sam," I reminded him softly. "That's not something to apologize for. I have you back, and Sammy's still alive, so it's a good day, Dean."

"I was so worried about you," he admitted.

"Bobby took care of me." I smiled at him, running my hand through his hair. "And when Sam was here, we took care of each other. We're all okay, now."

"We need to find Sammy," he said, tracing the small scar on my hip.

"We will. But first, I think we need to explain a couple of things to Bobby."

"Oh, that'll be fun," he murmured, making me laugh.

There was so much that still needed to be done, things that needed to be figured out and questions that needed to be answered. But that half hour was what Dean and I needed in order to move forward. We needed that reminder that our love was unbreakable, that we'd always find our way back to each other. Now, we'd continue doing what we'd always done - regroup with Sam and figure things out, as a family.

#dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn smut #spn #supernatural smut #supernatural #smut #spn fanfic #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 10 months

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Hitched Before the Pit

Masterlist

Summary: It started when the djinn made Dean realize he was in love with you and ends with you holding your dead husband in your arms.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: talk of suicide, blood, marriage, Dean dies (obviously)

Author’s Note: I’m pretty sure weddings in Vegas don’t actually work like this, I’m just using the knowledge I gained from watching Friends.

“Marry me” was the first thing Dean said to you when he woke up from the djinn dream. The words surprised you but you chalked it up to him being under the djinn’s spell and ignored it. You had been casually dating Dean for almost two months at that point, but you knew he didn’t actually want to marry you. Well, you figured he didn’t.

In Dean’s “perfect world,” you were his wife, but he wasn’t going to admit that to you. He felt embarrassed about the whole situation, really. You two weren’t even ‘exclusive’ and he had proposed to you? He was glad you didn’t bring it up after; but, at the same time, he wished you’d say something, anything about what he said.

What shocked him most was that he actually meant it. He had begun to realize he was ridiculously, completely in love with you. He didn’t know how it happened; how you two went from casual hunter acquaintances, to close friends, then to this. All over the course of two short years.

Then he sold his soul. He was going to die in one year and there was nothing you could do to stop it. So, why let yourself continue to have feelings for him if you knew he was leaving? You decided it was for the best to slowly, but surely, cut him out of your life. That way when he did die, losing him wouldn’t destroy you.

But that didn’t work, at all. The more you tried to stop thinking about Dean, the more you realized how much he really meant to you. How much you loved him. Wow, you were mad at yourself! How could you let it get this far? How could you get so crazy about a man that was dying in nine months!?

Meanwhile, Dean had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, in love with you, but you wanted to keep things casual. So, he kept his mouth shut and didn't plan on saying those three words anytime soon. But he took every opportunity to make you feel that you were important to him; a lingering touch, a forehead kiss, or even letting you drive his Baby. (When he first offered you genuinely thought there was something wrong with him, but when he insisted you realized what was really happening.)

Now it was six months. Six months and Dean would be gone, dead. And the two of you were still crazy in love with each other, neither one wanting to admit it. But then it hit you - you knew Dean loved you (well you suspected it at least) but what if he didn’t realize how much you cared about him? What if he was under the impression that you truly wanted to keep things casual?

“Dean?” You mumbled. You were laying on his chest, his arm resting on your shoulders as you both were in bed for the night.

“Mhm?” He mumbled back.

“I love you,” You told him. He didn’t answer, he stayed completely silent.

“What?” he asked breathlessly.

You sat up a little so you could look into his eyes; “I love you,” you repeated. He sat up fully, resting you on his lap.

“Seriously? Really?” He seemed absolutely shocked as a smile found its way onto his full lips.

“Yeah,” You whispered.

“Oh my god,” He kissed you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He suddenly pulled away when he realized he hadn’t said it back. He looked into your eyes and put a warm palm to your cheek, “I love you.”

You felt like a schoolgirl with how happy those three little words made you. You couldn’t help the ridiculous smile now on your face as you kissed him again.

“Where are we?” You yawned. You had drifted off while Dean was driving.

“About two hours from Vegas,” He replied.

“I still can’t believe you actually found a case that takes us to Vegas,” You shook your head with a laugh.

“Obviously vampires gamble too,” Dean smirked. “Besides, I’ve got four months left, why not take some time to party in Vegas!”

You tensed up at the words; four months. Four months and Dean was gone, you hated thinking about it. You scooted closer to him and leaned on his shoulder.

“Yeah, guess so,” You said lowly. You took hold of his right arm and moved it over your shoulders. “I love you, Dean, so much.”

“I love you too, so much,” He kissed the top of your head and somehow pulled you even closer.

“That was awesome,” Dean tossed his machete on the table back at the motel.

“Dean! That’s where we’re gonna eat!” You groaned, the table now splattered with vampire blood.

“Let’s get married,” He turned around to look at you.

“What?”

“There’s a little chapel within walking distance from here. I’ve got four months left, and I want to spend those four months being married to you.”

“Seriously!?” You furrowed your brows.

“Yeah!” He shrugged with a huge smile. There was a short silence as you looked at him and thought about what he was saying. “You know what, never mind. I’m sorry, forget it.” He turned back around.

“No, no, no,” You gripped his hand and turned him again so he was facing you. “I mean- yes! Yeah, I wanna marry you, Dean!” You smiled up at him. “Let’s get married!”

“Okay,” He held your face and kissed you. “Let’s go!”

“Wait, if we’re doing this, I wanna do it right! Sam and Bobby can be here by morning, I can get a dress tonight, and we’ll sleep in separate rooms.”

“Seriously?” He confirmed with a huge smile. “You- You really wanna do this?”

“Mhm,” You hummed, kissing him again. “See you tomorrow, fiancé,” You smiled, grabbed your duffle off the bed, and went to book a separate room.

“Okay, we’re gonna go in and act super wasted so they want to get us in and out quickly,” Dean told Bobby and Sam, his back facing you so he hadn’t seen you in your dress yet.

“What?” Sam laughed a little.

“Sammy, I’m wanted for murder! We can’t have these people asking questions, we just want to get legally married and get out!” Dean reasoned.

“Okay, well, good luck man,” Sam patted his shoulder.

“Here goes everything,” He smiled and turned around. “Good Lord, you’re gorgeous!” He beamed. You were smiling like crazy as the two of you walked to the door of the chapel. He opened the door for you and you both dramatically stumbled in.

“I wanna marry this man,” You shouted, intentionally slurring your words. “Woo!”

“One marriage license, please,” Dean exclaimed, slamming both your real IDs on the front desk.

“Okay, it’s one hundred dollars a service,” The woman behind the desk said. Dean took the cash out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Okay, just right through those doors.”

“Dean, can I talk to you for a quick minute?” You asked quietly, he could still hear the quiver in your voice. “Please?”

“Yeah, hun, of course,” He replied and left the room with you. “What’s up?”

“I know time is running out, and we can’t afford to waste even a second, but I- I just need to tell you that-” Your voice broke and tears began to fill your eyes as you continued. “That I love you, and if this doesn’t work I’m gonna do whatever it takes to get you back.”

“Hey, this is gonna work, okay?” He reassured you. Neither of you believed him, though. You both knew - Dean would be gone by morning. Gone forever.

You smiled sadly up at him and let the tears fall. “I love you, so much, Dean.”

“I love you so much, y/n,” He smiled back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him.

“How you doing over there, kiddo?” Bobby asked. You were in the passenger seat of his car, following the Impala to hunt Lilith. (Dean wanted some alone time with Sam, which you completely understood.) You had zoned out almost completely, lost in your thoughts because you knew you’d be losing Dean in just a few hours.

“I don’t think I can do this without him, Bobby,” You whispered.

“Well, you don’t have to keep hunting; Dean would understand if you wanted to quit the job.”

“No, I mean…” You sighed, tears continuing to slip down your cheeks. “This, any of this! I can’t imagine living life without Dean.”

“Oh,” Bobby furrowed his brows with concern. “Look, I know we've only known each other a couple of years, but I’m basically your father-in-law. If we do lose Dean, which is still an if, why don't you stay with me for as long as you need? I know what it's like to lose the love of your life, believe me, I know all too well. But Dean would be furious if he somehow climbs out of hell to find out you offed yourself.”

You laughed a little at his wording, “Yeah, I guess he would be.” You wiped away the tears, but more quickly followed anyway. “And if it’s really okay with you, I would like to stay at your place… I don’t really have anyone else to go to.”

“Of course it's okay with me! We’re family, y/n.”

“Midnight,” You whispered, looking down at Bobby’s pocket watch. You then looked up at him as tears clouded your eyes. “It’s midnight.”

You were both watching the house and heard Dean’s screams when the Hell Hounds tore into him. A sob escaped your lips before you covered your mouth with your hand. The two of you waited for a moment before a bright light erupted from the house. Another minute later, you both ran toward the house since the demons all seemed to be gone.

There he was. Bloody, torn apart, dead on the floor. Your Dean; your sweet, loving Dean. You froze when you saw him, completely shutting down as you stood there. Dean was gone, he was actually gone. Slowly, but surely, you made your way to your husband’s lifeless body. Sam was holding onto him and he looked up at you; both of you unable to see clearly, due to the flow of tears. You sat down and Sam let you hold him; taking him into your arms you let out a sob.

“Dean!” You screamed out in pain, unable to keep it in. You pulled him into your chest and rocked back and forth a little, letting out sobs as you clung to him. You kissed his forehead and cheeks repeatedly as the realization really sank in; your husband was dead.

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #sam winchester #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

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skeletonsslut · 7 months

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i’m sorry.

pairing: sam winchester x female!reader

warnings: character death (reader), angst, tears, general pain

summary: after the heartbreaking and gruesome death of y/n l/n, sam listens to the only thing left of her: tapes.

notes: this is poorly written and not proofread by any means. also written at 4am :)

wc: 1028

“Hello? Check one, check two. Uh, well, hi, it’s Y/N, but you already know that,” She cuts herself off with a small chuckle — one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sam. Her melodic laugh rings repeatedly through his mind, bouncing off of the walls of his head, on an endless loop. He hasn’t heard her laugh in so, so long and he’d do anything to hear it again — well, with these tapes in front of him, he’d have to be a bit more specific — he’d do anything to hear her laugh again, in person. Or, even better, to see her, full of life and standing in front of him, saying what he saw was all kind of sick dream. That’s all he wants.

But, realistically, that just wasn’t going to happen. Sam wasn’t naïve, and he wasn’t dumb. He knew he wasn’t getting her back. Not after her body was mangled and torn by a hellhound ten feet in front of him. No, not after he falsely promised her that he wouldn’t let anything get her and, no, definitely not after he stared at the flames licking up the pyre, engulfing her lifeless body in flames. Not when he knew for a fact that the love of his life was dead.

“Uh, okay. I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t really plan this out before I hit the button, so I’ll just start,” Her voice pauses, and Sam inhales a shaky breath. If he had known how refreshing (but simultaneously heartbreaking) it would be to hear her voice again, he would have listened to these tapes way earlier.

“I guess what I should say first is, I’m sorry,” the tapes play, her voice coming out a bit staticky… not clear enough for Sam to close his eyes and pretend that it’s really her in front of him and not just a Walkman, “and that’s true. I am. I’m sorry for leaving you so soon, and I’m sorry I’m hurting you. But I’m not sorry for the deal I made. I could never apologize for that.”

Sam feels a pang in his heart, tears forming in his eyes, “I saved you. You died. You died and… I couldn’t let it stay that way. Dean was broken. Hell, so was I. And… I guess maybe it’s selfish of me. I’m selfish because I’m letting them take me so soon, because I settled for only one more week with you. Selfish that I sold my soul for your life because I was too weak to see you like that. I’m ready to admit that. But it’s also more than that. People need you, Sam. Dean needs you, and the world needs you. The world needs Sam Winchester.”

But I need you is what he wants to tell her. He wants to scream and yell and cry and hug her and love her. He wants to tell her that the world needs her, too. He wants to tell her that, yes, she was being selfish! He wants to ask her how she could even do this to him. He even wants to tell her he thinks he might hate her for this, but he knows he doesn’t, and he knows he couldn’t. If she was in front of him now, he wouldn’t even think to say any of that. He’d grip her tight and tell her he loves her and he’d never let her go.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I’m glad I made the deal. I wouldn’t take it back, Sam. Not for the world. You know why?” She pauses, sounding as if she’s getting a bit teary herself despite her efforts to keep her composure for her listener, “Because you are my world.”

Sam’s breath hitches and he clamps his eyes together tighter.

“But what I am sorry for,” Y/N draws a quivering breath that can be heard on the tapes, “is all the time we’re going to lose. I’m sorry we won’t ever get to hug again, kiss again. I’m sorry we won’t get another movie night, that we won’t be able to stay up reading lore until our heads feel like they’ll explode. I’m sorry I’ll never get the time to buy you one of those cheesy NASA certificates, you know, where you name a star? ‘Cause I really was gonna do that,” Sam can hear her bittersweet laugh and it makes him miss her that much more, “I’m sorry that we won’t ever get to see that one nerd museum in Missouri you were always talking about. And…” She pauses again and he hears ruffling, fabric, “I’m sorry we won’t get that family we talked about starting.”

Tears slip down his cheeks and he can’t be bothered to wipe them, too immersed in the tapes, hanging off her every word. She pauses for a long moment, trying to collect herself. Sam supposed she didn’t want to be a mess on the tapes, trying to stay strong for Sam.

“I love you, and I’m not sorry for that.” She says when she speaks again, “I’m not sorry for being a part of your life. I don’t regret any of it, the monsters, the chaos, the fighting, I don’t mind it. Not when I have you. You make it better. You make me better.”

She pauses for another long moment, and the only noise is the crackling of the tape before she speaks up again.

“Thank you for letting me love you, Sam Winchester.”

The tape clicks to a stop and a breath Sam didn’t know he was holding was released. He opened his lids and glanced down at the Walkman with glossy eyes, finally reaching to wipe his tears off his cheeks when he realizes he isn’t anywhere near done.

A small shoebox filled with cassettes lays in front of him, and he fishes another out, looking at the title. Her neat handwriting spells out, ‘memories’, and he worries the inside of his cheek as he stares. He clicks open the Walkman, pulling the tape he’d just listened to out. He looked at the words scribbled across the front of it — I’m sorry.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #angst #character death #supernatural #supernatural angst #sam winchester angst #crossroads #spn fanfic #spn angst

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stucktomyshoe · 2 months

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Dean had to die, okay?

*dramatic pause*

Dean sacrificed so much for Sam.

Dean was like Sam’s mother, father, and brother. He was there for Sam when no one else was and he became attached to Sam like a parent would to their child.

While a child can grow apart from their parent and spread their wings and become independent, most parents have a hard time letting their kids go and letting them flourish independently.

Sam, while he still loved Dean dearly, it was easier for him to branch out and leave Dean behind as we see in many episodes. For example, when Sam left for college, purgatory, etc… (also an adding bonus is that Sam did not want to hunt and he was only doing it for Dean. And that’s why he quit whenever Dean was gone.)

So, while we see Sam leaving Dean (or in a more gentle manner, branching out from his “parent.”) and leaving hunting on many occasions, it becomes apparent that Sam is willing to give up Dean and the family business when the time is right.

For Dean, it’s the opposite. Dean doesn’t care if it’s the right time or if it’s the wrong time for Sam to leave him. He just can’t give up Sam for anything. Dean sold his soul and was willing to get ripped up by a hellhound and get tortured for, (I think it was) 50-something years for Sam for him to come back to life. (Sam didn’t leave him, he left Sam so it doesn’t count.)

So in conclusion, it had to be Dean who died if we wanted at least one of the brothers to be happy.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #Codependent

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eisforeidolon · 6 months

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Heller: Explain to me how Dean wasn't totes in lurve with the angel when he went into a deep depression every time Castiel died and was totes happy every time the angel came back?!?

Why bother? It's not like they listened the first fifty times, but hey, I'm bored today. Let's ignore the blatantly wrong hyperbole of Dean doing anything "every time" Castiel died. Fundamentally, you can break this down into two equally stupid categories of assertions:

How People Work: A person would only be devastated by the death of someone they were in love with.

What Even Is Canon: Dean was genuinely devastated by Castiel's deaths even given the comparisons to times we saw Dean actually devastated, devastated by Castiel's death alone in any of those situations, and glad to have Castiel back for himself and not what he could do for them as a semi-indestructible ally.

The first is hellers demonstrating their usual pointed ignorance of normal human behavior and relationships in service of pretending their ship is the undeniable center of the universe. Only someone who has never had a genuinely good friend - or is too young and/or lucky to have never lost one - would assert you can only be devastated by losing a romantic love. Whether it was pure lipservice or not, the show repeatedly told us Castiel was the Winchesters' "best friend" who was "like a brother". So the only thing further thing that needs to be said about it this is: fuck right on out of here with that weird-ass antisocial bullshit.

The second is hellers ignoring literally everything in the canon that they can't make about Dean and Castiel - so they can pretend a storyline actually exists between Dean and Castiel. They can keep acting like context is an entirely foreign concept, but that doesn't do anything but make them look like fools over and over.

We've seen Dean actually devastated - when he lost or was going to lose Sam. He told Bobby to let the world end, sold his soul, made deals with Death and random angels, etc. I could go on, but the basic underlying point was that he literally never went to similar lengths over Castiel. Not only that, but for every single time Castiel died and Dean was upset? Bigger and far more devastating things were going on contributing to his overall mindset and alcohol abuse.

The first two angel explosions, Dean barely has time to react. So let's jump directly to the Leviathan fiasco. First, Dean's not just upset Castiel's dead, he's upset Castiel was fucking lying and going behind their backs for a year and is now dead after breaking Sam's brain and declaring himself God. Again, going back to a lack of understanding of how people work? If you don't get why being mad at a dead friend would fuck you right up ... well. Which doesn't even get into the fact that Dean is ALSO very upset about having to go on the run from seemingly invincible monsters from Purgatory (including ditching his beloved car), Sam currently barely holding on to his sanity, more guilt over lying to Sam about Amy, and then Bobby dying on top of it. As to him being happy to have Castiel back? He's happy - to find someone with the potential to fix Sam, after which he ditches Castiel's comatose ass with Meg in an asylum without looking back. When the tablet wakes the angel back up? I'm not even sure you could call his reaction "happy" so much as willing to take advantage of someone with knowledge and powers to try and fix the still ongoing shitstorm of the Leviathans.

There's an interim death where April the reaper stabs him, but since Gadreel immediately heals him - just as he did with Charlie an episode later, except Dean actually asks for Charlie to be resurrected, Gadreel brings Castiel back on his own initiative? There's again not much of a reaction to speak of. Except in the sense that Dean's very next action, after seeing the consequences of Castiel being on his own mostly human in a world full of angels out for his head? Is to kick Castiel out of the bunker without even giving him money or pointing him towards one of their safe houses because he's not as important to Dean as Sam continuing to be healed.

When Castiel is stabbed by Lucifer at the end of season 12, sure Dean is upset. But it's fucking insane to pretend that he's not more upset about his recently-returned-to-life mother, the trauma of whose original loss basically shaped his entire fucking life, being yanked into a rift to an alternate universe with Lucifer! FFS. Then there's the part where Lucifer's super powerful Nephilim child has just been born and might kill just them or maybe the whole world, too. Sure he prays to Chuck for Castiel's return - right along with Mary's and even Crowley's. But he doesn't offer anything for it and immediately gives up when there's no answer. When he meets up with Billie a few episodes later after temporarily killing himself on a case, despite their meta it was in despair over the angel? He asks immediately to go back to life, and when Billie prevaricates? He asks for the ghosts in the house to be freed. He admits to feeling fatalistic because of his inability to save Castiel BUT ALSO Mary AND EVEN the rando VotW kid that just died in the house with equal weight. He asks for information about Mary. He does not ask for Castiel to be resurrected or to be reunited with him in any other way. Sure he's glad Castiel returns shortly thereafter - but it does not stop any of his angsting the rest of the season over Mary and Jack. I think his pulling a gun on Kaia is deeply OOC, but that's well after Castiel's resurrection and they're gonna pretend that's happy, well-adjusted Dean totes fixed by Castiel's return? LOL. Not even to mention that after one episode of the angel being back, Dean is perfectly happy for Castiel to fuck off out of his presence to search for Jack - and when Castiel promptly gets himself kidnapped? Dean doesn't notice the person who is calling to check in every single day about the search, who it is explicitly canon he personally talked to on the phone, is not Castiel. Just like Dean didn't notice him being possessed by Lucifer in season 11, oops.

Then we get to the final one. Yeah, Dean is upset Castiel died after his brain reboots from having to listen to Misha queerbait the shit out of his sheep Castiel's derpy, rambling goodbye speech about ambiguous love. But he was already upset and drinking for pulling a gun on Sam, for Billie's plan being a double-cross, for Chuck having turned full villain and absorbed Amara making him more powerful than ever while Jack got de-powered, for the overall questions he's struggling with about destiny and free will when Chuck has been manipulating their entire lives, for Chuck disappearing seemingly every-fucking-body on the planet except him, Sam, and Jack. Sure Dean mentions Castiel specifically when he and Sam offer to fight to the death for Chuck's amusement if he puts everything back - probably because he was killed in a different way from the rest of the vanished. But it's not more of an impassioned plea than Dean gives birds or showing more upset than when Chuck vanishes Miracle right after they find him. Then there's having to deal with Michael again, so sure, Dean is hopeful that Castiel might return for a hot second when they need all the help they can get. But once it's all said and done and they've tricked Chuck and installed Jack as the new God who brings the rest of the planet back? Dean doesn't ask Jack to bring Castiel back one last time. When Sam is sad about missing Jack and Castiel, Dean waxes philosophical about how they need to just enjoy their lives without them and is more interested in his pie. They can write all the bad meta they want about Dean intentionally impaling himself on that rebar, but he's clearly happy with no Castiel in sight. When Dean arrives in heaven, even when Bobby explicitly mentions Castiel, Dean shows literally no interest in asking about or seeking out the angel. His car, on the other hand comes immediately to mind. If that isn't clear enough, we see exactly what reunion makes Dean's heaven more than "almost perfect" and brings full closure to his story. Since they desperately wanted to count TW when they had delusions of it canonizing their ship, let's throw in that TW's meddling ghost Dean is still fixing things so Sam can have a full life, looking up random AU versions of his parents, and hanging out with ghost Bobby - while literally no one even mentions Castiel anywhere in his vicinity. Everything he could ever want or need or dream? Doesn't include Castiel. Totes twue lurve, yeah?

While I think that makes the point as clearly as anything could, I'd also like to mention in passing that I didn't even go over several additional times when Castiel was maybe going to die and/or Dean basically shrugged it off because he didn't care that much or bigger shit was going down elsewhere. This is already long enough already, and ultimately no amount of actual canon is ever going to matter to people who pretend anything that doesn't fit into their fantasies about YA romance tropes and the secret meaning of wardrobe and pastry magically doesn't exist.

Still, it's very easy to explain, it's all right there in a basic human understanding of relationships and the show's canon.

#destihellers #canon is not their friend #long post

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dyed-red · 1 year

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not for nothing but i still think dean dying as a result of the writer’s strike is still one of the best things to ever happen to the narrative.

you’ve got this guy who sold his soul and you know he’s gonna be saved somehow. that’s how tv works, that’s how this story works. sam was just dead and then resurrected, dean’s had so many near-misses already, so of course the next season they’re gonna save him. that’s how this goes.

you’ve got s2 ending on sam saying there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for him, on “guess i’ve got to save your ass for a change”

and then he doesn’t.

and then. he.

doesn’t.

the descent storyline primed and ready to launch because, to reiterate, there is nothing sam would not do for dean (even make himself monstrous and into all that which dean hates).

and then - dean dies anyway. and sam turns monstrous anyway. not to save dean. to avenge him. to fruitlessly grasp at the remains of what they had. to have tried and hated himself for failing and hate himself for not descending sooner and hate himself for doing it now when it serves no true purpose except revenge.

i’ve said it before but i’ll say it again -- watching those seasons as they aired, and being almost disappointed watching in real time that the end of s3 was clearly going to involve saving dean, that that conclusion was already foregone so the stakes didn’t feel as high, and then the complete and utter shock when there is no 11th hour deus ex machina that swooped in and saved him. when dean died -- torn to shreds like the deal with the demon ultimately promised but i never once expected to deliver. stomach through the floor, yelling at the screen because there’s no way - there’s no way, how can this show continue without dean? oh god is he dead for real? oh god he’s dead for real.

and then that split second clip of him in hell, yelling for his brother, and the entire season break/hiatus wondering if s4 is going to be trying to rescue him, if it’s going to be him as a demon, what to expect.

it was exceptional. it was exquisitely painful. it was completely unexpected, in a way that subverted tv norms in a good way because narratives so seldom deliver on what they promise in the case of a character death that’s been foretold like this.

yeah that episode scrambled my brain for all of time, huh

#no rest for the wicked #phyn rambles

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a7david · 8 months

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I don't know why but I still feel like people don't truly understand on what dean gave up for Sam.

Like, we all know he sold his soul, sacrifices himself for Sam EVERY SINGLE TIME he's in danger, gave up his "apple pie life" for him (in the script actually written he was about to agree to stay), and wanted Sam to live in exchange of... every sons of bitches who killed their mom to walk around the earth.

But dean didn't give up only the life he could've had; he gave Sam his everything. His everything, and I cannot clarify that enough, is his soul in the deepest meaning. His feelings, his hobbies, his thoughts and opinions, he gave Sam... everything.

It's really no wonder he was so devastated when John didn't lift a finger for days to help him - dean didn't have to give John what he had, he needed to protect Sammy. From anything in the dark and anyone who's after him, no matter the cost.

The reason I pointed the fact he was really overwhelmed from the dying and John and everything (in 2×01 i think?), isn't because it's completely obvious. I just wanna remind yall that dean doesn't think he deserves to be saved, especially not by John. The logical reason, atleast for me, that dean would freak out and break the glass and be so fucking mad at John - he couldn't bear the thought of his father alone with Sam. Without him to calm them down.

Which is why the scene in 14×12 is so important. Dean was willing to give up his own thoughts and opinions just so Sam wouldn't have to deal with their father all alone. He was willing to hurt Sam in a tough time because of a bigger threat. Cause Sam would get worse if dean didn't make the sacrifice.

I can literally make a list of things dean canonicaly gave up for Sam. And he does that every day, all day, since he was four years old.

#dean winchester #bad parent john winchester #fuck john winchester #sam and dean #Sam winchester #john winchester's a+ parenting #john winchester #2×01 #9×07 #bad boys #14×12

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transexualpirate · 5 months

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JOHN WINCHESTER?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JOHN WINCHESTER GOD DAMN FOOL STUPID HUNTER DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT SOLD HIS SOUL TO A WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED RIGHT OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING JOHN WINCHESTER

STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT JOHN WINCHESTER I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP JOURNALS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM AND I KNOW HES GROWING THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said john winchester is waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

if i have to deal with supernatural treating john winchester like a traumatized baby not only will i pause the show i will EAT the remote and destroy my fucking tv out of spite and have to rewatch the entire series again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alive

you dont understand i hate him so much. he abused all three of his children then made their trauma about him lied to sam all his life tried to get dean to kill him left the boys alone at dirty motels all their childhood manipulated dean for decades and somehow still got a redemption arc

he doesnt even have some fucked up backstory to explain this hes just a man who lost his wife and decided to make it their kid's problems im going ham

he BETTER have had a eternity of torture in hell. inflicting pain in john winchester is alastair's sole redeeming quality cuz if he didnt im going to torture him myself i SWEAR

he has so little episodes in which hes vaguely mentioned by what is supposed to maybe be his children (but they're bobby's) and i lost it

where the fuck is john winchester if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt

crusty old man

ill punch john and his sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final journal he kept on him at all times simply titled Now You Fucked Up in a southern accent trust me

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point

i hope theres a date given for when john died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone

everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had so many fucked up kids and traumatized every single one

#john winchester #my actual nemesis #im not normal about this man #mine #not to be taken seriously #personal #spn #supernatural #jurgen leitner #jurgen leitner rant

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jawritter · 2 years

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The Devil’s In The Next Room

Chapter 3

Requested: aaaaaah requests are open! first of all, love all your work and i’m excited whenever i get a notif saying you posted 💞. if i may, can i ask for any mafia! dean x reader, i’m always a sucker for him :’)

Summary: They told her he was The Devil in the flesh. She was just a hired escort, so it should have been just another job, so how did she get in so damn deep?

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Dean Winchester x Escort!Reader

Word Count: 3148

Warings: Language, Controlling Dean, Mood swings, first look at ‘dom!dean’. Talk of future smut.

Beta’d By: @deanwanddamons

A/N: THERE WILL BE NO TAG LIST FOR THIS SERIES!!! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Enjoy!

Series Masterist!

Dean gave Y/N just one day to get her affairs in order before she was required to move into the penthouse with him. It was more than she had expected. She half expected that he was going to drag her back to his penthouse when they had left the restaurant the night before, but apparently he was more human than animal in at least some aspects, and allowed her at least one more night to herself, instructing her to bring nothing but the clothing on her back and whatever personal belongings that had sentimental value to her that she might like to keep in her assigned room. She wasn’t even allowed to bring her cell phone. He said one would be provided for her once she arrived ‘home’, along with whatever else she might have needed.

At this point, it really did feel as if she sold her soul to the devil himself.

Sleep evaded her in what was the last night in her own bed. The new reality that was sure to face her in her new “home” with Dean, loomed overhead like an impending Texas summer storm. There was no way to run from it now. There was no getting away from its destructive forces. She was literally at the mercy of the powers that be, and that power just happened to be the devil himself.

Dean Winchester.

She would have never guessed, even in her line of “work” and the dangers that it naturally possessed, that she would find herself in this predicament, yet, here she was.

She tried not to google anything else about Dean, deciding somewhere around midnight that the less she knew the better off she was when it came to Dean and his real dealings, rumored or fact. She would do the job he was paying her a damn large sum of money to do. She’d play the part. She wouldn’t let her heart get in the way, because that made one weak, and if she was going to survive this, being weak wasn’t an option.

Sure enough, just as Dean said it would, a black Cadillic was sitting outside of her apartment building as soon as the sun broke over the buildings that lined the Seattle skyline. It sat out in the light drizzling rain like an omen of death itself, ominously waiting for her to take that final walk to meet it like an old friend, or maybe an old enemy. She wasn’t sure yet.

She thought she wouldn’t be as emotional as she was about leaving her apartment, but she felt that pull of uncertainty and it made her uneasy. It was like closing a door on a chapter in her life she just knew she was never going to get to go back to, and that bothered her more than she’d admit. She was never a sentimental person to begin with. Hell, she walked out of it with literally just the clothes on her back. No pictures, no other belongings, closing the door on everything, even leaving dishes in the sink, and just walked away. Still, there it was as she stepped foot on the rain-soaked pavement as the sky split open overhead, and the driver stepped out with an umbrella to let her inside the safety of the warm car. That uncertain feeling. That feeling that once she got inside this car, there was never going to be any going back, no matter how much she wanted too.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” the young man said, grabbing her attention as he held the door open for her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, clearing her throat she shook her head as she forced herself to move forward and climbed into the dark interior of the car. The windows were heavily tinted, and she was sure it would have been like riding at night, regardless of how high the sun was in the sky.

She watched the man in his slender form hurry around the car, and climb behind the wheel before turning to her. “Now that we’re not both getting soaked,” he said, giving her what she assumed was supposed to be a friendly smile before he passed her a brand new iPhone. “My name’s Garth, and I’m here to be your driver and personal assistant, whatever you need me to be. I’ve already taken the liberty of putting my number, as well as Mr. Winchester’s inside the phone for you. If you need a ride anywhere, or require anything, even something as small as having something picked up from the store, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thanks,” she murmured as she took the phone from Garth who turned and started the car to pull out onto the main road. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked the sleek device, and started to familiarize herself with it. She was grateful for the distraction honestly, for just a moment it gave her something to focus on as her old home and her old life faded away into the rain-soaked distance now a memory.

She found the contacts and sure enough, there was Dean’s number as well as Garth’s. Her fingers lingered for a moment over the name, debating on whether she should try to contact him or not. After all, she had no idea where he was, or even if he was able to talk, so she just locked the phone and placed it into the pocket of her coat.

“Mr. Winchester is waiting for you in the penthouse,” Garth informed her as he turned down the busy streets seemingly unfazed by the heavy traffic around him and the growing thunderstorm. “Would you like me to walk you up Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Please Garth,” she interrupted him with a nervous sigh, “just call me Y/N. Ms. Y/L/N just sounds too formal.”

“Okay, I can do that,” he agreed with a wide smile. “But seriously do you want me to escort you up to the penthouse? It’s business hours, and the floor is pretty busy today.”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she answered him, and he nodded sharply as if she’d just given him the ultimate mission. She would have been amused by the tall, slender man if she had not been a bundle of nerves and possible regret. She was pretty certain almost nothing could make him angry, he just had that, ‘no matter what comes I’m good’ attitude.

“It’s no trouble at all I assure you. Mr. Winchester assigned me to do whatever you need.”

Garth pulled into the parking garage of the building, driving slowly through the levels to get to where he needed to park, and the closer she got to getting out of this car, the more her hands started to tremble.

“Have you spoken to Dean today, Garth?” she asked as she stared out the window, suddenly feeling like all she wanted to do was cry even if she couldn’t really put her finger on why.

“Yes I have,” he answered chipperly. She wondered if the man was always in that damn good of a mood.

“What kind of mood was he in?” she questioned.

“Good,” Garth answered, furrowing his brows slightly as he tried to remember. “Straightforward as he always is, but good.”

She thought it best to keep her mouth shut as he put the car in park, not trusting her own voice or nerves as she slowly stepped out of the car, and followed Garth, who had opened the door for her, towards the elevator in the parking garage.

“This is why I wanted to walk you up,” Garth said, “if you press this button here with the P on it, you go straight to the penthouse, and don’t have to walk through the business part of the building,” he instructed and she breathed a sigh of relief. She really did not want to go through all the looks and whispers again like she had the first time she was here.

But small victory aside, the elevator ride up was too short, and before she knew it the ding sounded and the gold plated doors opened to the same level of the penthouse she had arrived on that fateful night.

“This is where I leave you,” Garth announced proudly as he held the door open for her.

She gave him a tight smile and took a deep breath as she stepped out into the foyer of the penthouse and tried not to flinch as the doors closed behind her, leaving her to the mercy of Dean, wherever he was.

She could hear voices coming from the living area of the penthouse, and followed the sound, her heart racing with every step she took and when she rounded the counter, she froze on the spot. A long haired man, one she recognized as Sam from the real-estate articles and posters all over town, was sitting on the couch across from Dean, a black haired woman by his side, and another older man she did not recognize; all of them froze as soon as she stepped foot into the room.

“Hey honey, how was your trip?” Dean questioned, quickly falling into character as he jumped to his feet and crossed the small space to where she was standing to wrap his arms around her before capturing her lips in his in a tasteful kiss.

“Good,” she answered him, attempting a smile but failing miserably. “Just a little tired.” In her defense, it was hard to act when her head was swimming from her unexpected greeting of not only Sam and the other gentlemen, but Dean grabbing her and kissing her as soon as she walked into the room.

Dean almost breathed a sigh of relief that she was smart enough to play along and pecked her again before turning her towards the rest of the room, but she had a feeling there was a ‘keep up the act’ warning behind that one, because it was a little more forceful than the first, and had he not been holding onto her, she probably would have staggered backward.

“Y/N, this is my little brother Sam and his wife Ruby, and that cranky old man in the corner over there is my Uncle Bobby. That grumpy of fuck over there is his friend Rufus is over there looking out of the window ignoring most everyone in the room,” Dean said, introducing her to the stone cold faces in the room that were eyeing her with an air of curiosity, and in Sam’s case, disgust. “Everyone, this is Y/N, my girlfriend I was telling you about.”

Dean turned her towards the hallway as they mumbled their greetings and turned their backs to her. “Why don’t you go and lay down sweetheart, this is just a boring old business meeting about a sale on the north side of Seattle. We’re almost done here. Then I’ll join you and we can just rest for the remainder of the day.”

“That’s okay Dean, we were actually just leaving,” Bobby said, getting to his feet and adjusting his suit jacket. “I can email you the rest of the details when we get back to New York.”

“Okay,” Dean said, turning around to face him but keeping a death grip on her hand, another clear warning to keep herself in check. Not that she needed one, terrified wasn’t a strong enough word for what she was right now. She wasn’t about to put a toe out of line. At least, not on purpose.

“That will work. I will send everything over as soon as I get the paperwork done,” Dean readily agreed, and the men in the room all stood from their perspective places.

Bobby took several steps towards her, and it took everything in her power to not take a step back as he looked her over, searching for a flaw of any sort she assumed.

“I like this one Dean,” he announced after a few moments. Sam and Ruby were standing behind him, waiting for the elder man to make his way toward the door, but he didn’t seem to get in a hurry or care one way or another that he was holding them all up. “Don’t fuck it up boy. She looks good on you.”

“I don’t intend to fuck anything up,” Dean decreed with a face of stone. The old man nodded, and stalked towards the door. Sam reached up to slap Dean on the shoulder before following with Ruby in tow, leaving Y/N alone with Dean in the penthouse.

“What the fuck was that?” Y/N blurted out before slapping her hand over her mouth. Dean doubled over in a dark laugh before letting go of her hand and stalking off towards the minibar.

“It was nothing, they just came by to discuss the quarterly reports,” Dean informed her, still chuckling as he waved his massive palm in dismissal. “Bobby looks mean and scary, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was more of a father to me than my father actually was.”

Y/N stood in silence, watching him as he turned and leaned against the counter, his trademark black attire which consisted of a pair of black slacks, a solid black long sleeve button down, and a shiny pair of black shoes. The fabric of his clothing pulled against his chest and thighs as he crossed his arms and legs, his eyes racking over her with a hunger in them that made her shiver.

“I am sorry that you had to walk into that first thing. Normally, all business dealings are done away from here, but you know family, they tend to show up when and where they want,” he assured her and she nodded, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot; completely unsure as to what to do with herself.

“Come on,” he said, downing the rest of the amber liquid and rolling up his sleeves as he led her down the hallway. She followed him in silence, taking in as much as she could all while trying to keep up with his swift pace.

“This will be your room, change it or fix it however you’d like,” he voiced as he reached around her and opened her door to the left of where she was standing.

The room was bigger than the lounge of her old apartment. Her jaw hit the floor at the sight of her plush furniture, four poster king sized bed, and expansive windows overlooking the city. She’d only seen rooms like this in movies. Never in person. The fact that it was her, really hers, was staggering.

“You have your own bathroom behind that door there, and an intercom there to ring the kitchen if you need anything from the help. Just press that button, tell them whatever you want, and Ms. Butters will bring it right up. She’s my cook as well as the “keeper of the house” so to speak. She will be able to do anything you need.”

“So...I wont be sleeping with you?” she asked, and he snorted with indifference or amusement, she wasn’t sure which. He could be really hard to read.

“Honey you don’t want to sleep next to me I assure you. I don’t sleep much anyways, and I am a horrible bed partner. I don’t like to cuddle, and by the time I’m done with you in the afternoons you’re going to have more than your fill of me.”

Something in his voice was laced with a promise, and it struck fear into her...and excitement. She was a little ashamed of that latter part, but she’d deal with that later.

“So...I will have to perform ‘evening’ services or—”

“The contract states you will do what I say, when I say it, and don’t forget it. You will come whenever you're called. Morning, evening, middle of the night, whenever and wherever I feel like it. Other than that, and unless instructed otherwise, stay out of my way.”

That stung. She thought they were making ground. Last night he was much more friendly than he was today, and she didn’t understand why he was suddenly colder towards her than he was the night before, or even seemed to be just a few moments ago. Was it because she got confused that they weren’t sleeping in the same room? Why did it hurt so much? Why did she even care? She would have thought she would be thankful that he didn’t want her under him twenty-four hours a day.

Hell, this guy was supposed to be a sex addict! This is the third time she’d met him, and he was yet to try and get what he is paying for. Something didn’t add up.

“I’ll leave you to get settled. I have a meeting I have to attend downstairs, and then I have an errand to run across town,” he said as he leaned against the door frame of her room and watched as she explored the enormous bed in the center of it. “When I get home tonight, I will summon you for dinner, after which I will require your services. You can explore the penthouse, all but my bedroom at the very end of the hallway, unless I take you in there myself, it’s off limits to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” she answered and she was damn sure she heard a growl escape him as he crossed the floor to stand in front of her. She swore for a moment, just a moment, his eyes turned jet black as his large hand came up to roughly grab her jaw, pulling her into a rough kiss that was all tongue and teeth and too quick to really be classified as enjoyable. It was more of a display of control than anything; a pure carnal act with zero feeling or emotion. Now she understood why he said SHE wasn’t allowed to kiss him on the mouth, HE wanted to be in control of that, noted.

As he pulled away from her, a strange, brandlike tattoo shined on his forearm. It resembled some sort of strange tribal symbol, and for some reason, the mark really stuck out to her. If it was a scar, it was the strangest one she’d ever seen.

“Remember those manners later sweetheart. Good girls get rewarded. You don’t want to get on my bad side, baby girl. I may not be allowed to punish you, but I can still make you beg.”

Before she could respond he turned on his heels and left, leaving her alone in the huge house with nothing but echoing thoughts that she was too scared to let run wild because she didn’t know just how far down that rabbit hole she was willing to go.

Forever Tags:

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

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Jensen’s Babes:

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#the devils in the next room #dean winchester #dean winchester series #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanficiton #dean winchester fanfic #dean x reader #dean x you #mafia!dean winchester x escort!reader #mafia!dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn series #jawritter

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wincestbigbang · 6 months

Text

2023 Master Post

Title: When It Happens. Author: gracerene Artist: deerange Rating: Explicit Warnings/Spoilers: seasons 3, 6, 7, 11, 14, & 15; alternating POV; 5+1; drunkenness; jealousy; Dean's demon deal; brief soulless Sam; cursed Dean Winchester; (kind of) fuck or die; bondage; begging; s11e17: Red Meat; grief/mourning; mentions of canonical character death; hugging; pining; post-s14e18: Absence; post-s15e19: Inherit the Earth; kitchen sex; chair sex; frottage; mutual masturbation; two hands one dick; finger-sucking; implied switching, self-indulgence Summary: There have been many moments over the years when Dean and Sam could have acted on their not-so-brotherly feelings for one another, but they've always held back. Until they didn't. Or: Five times Dean and Sam don't kiss, and one time they do. Art: Tumblr | Twitter Story: Tumblr | Ao3

Title: Not What We Were Author: jdl71 Artist: striga Rating: Explicit Warnings/Spoilers: Werewolf Hybrids, Violence, Torture, Kidnapping, Separation, Heats, Ruts, Alpha Sam, Omega Dean, Knotting, Claiming Bites, Top Sam, Bottom Dean, Mating, Mating Bonds, Drugging, Threats of Being Sold Summary: After being turned, Dean is kidnapped by three assailants intent on finding out what he and Sam are before selling him to the highest bidder. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3

Title: Even Better Than the Real Thing Author: amypond45 Artist: bluefire986 Rating: R Warning/Spoilers: amnesia, death of a major character (temporary), grief & mourning, variation on 2x20 What Is and What Should Never Be, post 15x20 Series Finale AU, happy beginning to angsty middle with a bittersweet ending, a couple of explicit sex scenes (but this really isn’t a pwp) Summary: After a fall, Sam wakes up with amnesia about the past two years. Apparently, he and Dean have retired to a quiet town with happy memories from their childhood. Sam works part-time at the local library, and Dean works at the town garage. But Sam’s never been a reliable narrator where his own life is concerned, and there’s something just a little off about this idyllic life, a life in which he has everything he’s ever wanted, including the love of the one person he’s always wanted, but assumed he’d never have. Art: Ao3| Live Journal Story: Ao3 | Live Journal

Title: Reunion in Heaven Author: backrose_17 Artist: outofnowhere82 Rating: Teen and up Warnings/Spoilers: Implied past mpreg and 15x20 canon comliant Summary: There are those who like to think that soulmates are just a myth, made up of daydreamers and romantic souls who hope to find the one that would complete them. They were wrong. Soulmates do exist though they are rare and precious. Sam joins his soulmate Dean in Heaven. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3

#wincest big bang #wincest big bang 2023 #master post #2023 master post #mod post

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crashdevlin · 9 months

Text

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

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