#not trying to start a flame war i swear. if you love the bunker that is totally valid!
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Sabriel
I genuinely have no idea where this ship came from, but it is pretty cute, and I was curious to read a couple fics of them. Besides, I’m currently on season 13 and we deserve more Gabriel content in this time of stress. All of these also have Destiel in them, but which one the fic is focused on varies. I hope you enjoy them!
Rewriting the Book by MonPetitTresor on AO3. (37,224 words).
Tags: Dimension Travel, Alternate Universe, Gabriel in the Bunker, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sam Remembers Hell, PTSD, Post-Gadreel, Mark of Cain, Hurt Sam, Scared Sam, Emotionally Repressed, Sam Has Panic Attacks, The Cage.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: When Sam gets a little too close to stopping Metatron’s plans, the angel decides to use some of his extra juice to get Sam out of his way by sending him to a completely different reality. He never could’ve predicted what Sam might find there – or what he might bring back home with him.
Notes: The trauma in this was written so well, and it is part of what made this amazing. It was really respectful, realistic, and clearly well researched. And, as a bonus, an excellent plot!
In All Your Borrowed Finery by vanishingact on AO3. (67,950 words).
Tags: Winged Dean Winchester, Winged Sam Winchester, Winged Castiel, Winged Gabriel, Spells & Enchantments, Hunters & Hunting, Case Fic, Harpies, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor and Smut and Angst, Wingfic, Fan art.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: Dean finds an interesting symbol in Kevin's angel tablet notes and, against Sam's counselling, uses it in the heat of battle with a pair of angelic assassins. Side effects include pain, disorientation, and uncontrollable new appendages for the Winchesters. A disgruntled Castiel and a delighted Gabriel show up to help. Hunting (and life) gets interesting when wings are involved.
Notes: Okay this was literally adorable and you can not convince me otherwise. Every time I read a fic with everyone’s favourite archangel, I miss him just a bit more.
Black Swans by omphalos and Wolfling on AO3. (66,455 words).
Tags: Post-Apocalypse, Road Trip, Blasphemy.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: A post-apocalyptic road trip with a still recovering archangel wasn't how Sam had envisioned the aftermath of their big plan, but it sure beat a lot of the alternatives.
Notes: This was absolutely brilliant, so well written, and the plot was phenomenal! The misunderstanding was painful, and the original characters were great.
omni gladio ancipiti by lifevolutionary on AO3. (10,892 words).
Tags: Wingfic, Telepathy, Psychic Bond.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: The archangel Gabriel had never chosen a Bearer for his sword. Until now.
Notes: This was so freaking sweet, and I love the idea of Sam just casually having a flaming sword.
Dies Irae, or Something by AlchemyAlice on AO3. (51,223 words).
Tags: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Blasphemy, Alternate Universe - Canon, Biblical References.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: It starts with headaches, and it ends in a clusterfuck. So, business as usual, Apocalypse-wise.
Notes: I know it says Good Omens as well, but it is just a brief mention of Aziraphale and Crowley, so you don’t need to know anything about it! And this fic was written beautifully. Is it bad that I miss the apocalypse days?
That One Time Sam Winchester Googled Something Weird and It Had Pretty Awesome Results by quitepossiblyjanuary on AO3. (2,587 words).
Tags: Romantic Fluff, First Kiss, Stars, Humor, Courtship, Short & Sweet.
My Rating: 4 stars.
Description: In which Sam Googles something and his curiosity doesn't kill the cat. Or him. Or anyone. It's a pretty awesome feeling.
Notes: This was so adorable! Gabe was so sweet, and his mind reading skills made me laugh.
Bing Crosby’s Pennies From Heaven by twentysomething on AO3. (9,613 words).
Tags: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Gabriel, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Death.
My Rating: 4 stars.
Description: Sam always asks inappropriate, poorly-timed questions, so what comes out of his mouth doesn't exactly surprise himself. "Where were you?"
Notes: This was brilliant - the little gifts that Gabe left for Sam were adorable, and I burst out laughing at the image of trying to get Bobby’s wheelchair on top of a toilet.
‘Star Wars is Overrated’ by leftdragonpainter on AO3. (38,186 words).
Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Pining, Drinking, Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Neighbours, Swearing, Winchester Logic, Big Brother Gabriel, Clueless Dean, College Student Sam, Awkward Dates, Pie, Dean Cooks, Slow Burn, Injured Sam, Fixing Cars, Emotional Constipation, Angst, Confessions, Smut, Love Confessions, Temporary Amnesia, Star Trek References, Star Wars References, Angst with a Happy Ending.
My Rating: 4 stars.
Description: When Dean Winchester turned sixteen he was disappointed by the words that appeared on his chest. He never expected that it would take so much to find his soulmate. He never expected to not remember meeting them…
Notes: Every time I thought I knew what was going to happen, it either went in the complete opposite direction or something totally different happened, and I loved it.
Start Quoting Shakespeare and We’re Done by pyrebi on AO3. (15,579 words).
Tags: Romantic Comedy, Misunderstanding, Banter, Libraries, Food, Ridiculousness, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Human.
My Rating: 4 stars.
Description: In which Dean has the hots for a librarian named Cas, Cas may or may not have the hots for a mechanic named Dean, and Gabriel joins Sam in the peanut gallery in the hopes that he might just get to do a horizontal tango of his own.
Notes: Damn, the misunderstandings in this were so unbelievably painful. Overall, though, it was very funny and quite cute. Also, I love the idea of Gabe owning a sweet store.
Bring it On Home by lilyleia78 on AO3. (34,482 words).
Tags: Romance, Alternate Universe, Drama, Bonding, Angelic Soulbond, Angels, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale.
My Rating: 3 stars.
Description: When John sells his sons to Heaven in exchange for the Colt, Dean and Sam find themselves separated from each other and in the care of two very different angels. Dean and Cas work together to find out why Heaven wants Sam and how they can reunite the brothers - all the while growing closer every day. Meanwhile Sam should hate Gabriel and his endless string of conquests, but Gabriel's twisted sense of humor and attractive smile inspire something much more complicated.
Notes: First of all, I would like to say that John absolutely does not deserve any redemption or forgiveness in this fic, but okay. The idea - especially the Sabriel side - was a little creepy, but it was executed fairly well.
Our Mornings by entanglednow on AO3. (2,155 words).
Tags: Morning After.
My Rating: 3 stars.
Description: That would be the sound of his brother having sex with an angel three rooms away.
Notes: This was fairly cute, but a bit short for my tastes.
And, for all the Sabriel fans who don’t ship Destiel:
Highway of Love (Or: How Sam Winchester Learned to Stop Worrying and Relax Already) by Jassy on AO3. (24,536 words).
Tags: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, The Trickster.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: AU. Sam noticed a few things weren't quite right after they killed the Trickster. After going back to check things out, his life will never be the same.
Notes: This was probably the first Sabriel fic I ever read, and honestly I just didn’t understand it. I mean, not complaining, because I’ve read Mystrade fics before and we all know they don’t even share a scene, but I was still confused. Then, I read a really nicely done thing on Instagram explaining it, and I kind of got it. So I read this, and I really enjoyed it, and now I ship Sabriel.
So, they may be this fandom’s crack ship, but I hope you enjoyed this edition of Destiel + other ships. I’m thinking that I might do a Saileen one in the future, because she may have only been in one episode I have watched but oh boy she was an icon, and it’s good for my heart to ship things that actually happen (I think. No one tell me otherwise. I will cry).
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Swallows at Dawn
Summary: Further continuation of the Lt series. You can read part one, Queen of Swords, here and part two, Never Falter, Never Fail, here. Destroyer!Chris being soft after the nightmares have faded.
Who: Destroyer!Chris x reader
Word count: 1,280
Warnings: Swearing, PTSD, flashbacks, mentions of blood, nightmares.
Authors Note: This begins as angst but I promise it has a good ending. I did not serve in the USMC, but my husband did. I consulted with him about parts of this story so I could stay as true as possible to actual realities of deployment and PTSD. This is one of the hardest things I’ve written thus far and honestly I’m damn proud of it. Anything in italics is part of the nightmare. Much love y’all. Allie.
It’s just routine. Walk the same road, just farther down than you went yesterday. You and your team clearing the way so the medical convoy can get from base to a small village in desperate need of supplies. You wanted to go farther yesterday but you’d lost the light.
It’s not safe they said.
Don’t they know it’s never safe? It’s war. There is no such thing as safe in war.
You linger towards the back. You allow your dog to go a bit farther to the side of the road. He’s the most experienced, you should probably be leading but you prefer to double-check.
Just in case.
You pull once on the leash, he comes trotting back to you. Your fingers dig into the fur behind his ears, grounding you back to the task at hand.
There is no warning. It happens too fast for a shouted signal. Just the white-hot burst of flame and darkness.
It’s the sound of your thrashing that wakes Chris first. He bolts upright, his left hand going for the pistol on the bedside table. Even before his eyes adjust to the predawn gloom, the sight is trained on the door.
Silence.
He can’t help but wonder what he heard.
Your sense of smell returns first. There is a distinct scent in the air. The eye-watering, throat burning scorch of hot metal and burning rubber. There is no sound but the hollow ringing in your ears. Your skin feels like it’s being flayed from your bones. The blistering sensation of flesh that’s burnt. You’re pretty sure there is blood dripping from your scalp. You attempted to scrub your face before opening your eyes. Whatever it is, it’s mixing with the sand to create a gritty paste.
There is so much blood on your hands. The bright red looks almost fake, too garish in the sunlight, almost like a gruesome prop. But this is all too real.
You don’t know if it’s all yours.
And then the screaming starts. Horrible, gut-wrenching, terror-filled. As he turns back to the other bed, and the gun falls from his hand onto the mattress. Back arched, hands fisted into the sheets, your body contorts.
“Shit.” He jumps from his bed and onto yours. Straddling your legs and grabbing your shoulders, he almost shocked by how soaked in sweat you are in the chilly room. He pulls you close, cradling you into his arms and against his chest.
“C’mon sweetheart. I’m here. You’re here. You’re not there.” He’s not exactly sure where you are but he has a good guess.
Your eyes fly open as you try to fight free from his grip. Heart pounding, you’re still half trapped in the nightmare dreamscape of your memories but his arms hold you tight.
There is no sound in the room but the muffled sounds of a tv in the room next to yours and your own ragged breathing.
“You back?”
You nod, too broken to care that he saw what you’ve hidden from everyone. Your nighttime secret. Normally you take medication to sleep. Little white pills that keep the demons at bay, but the medic advised against it tonight after your brush with heatstroke earlier in the day. They’d wanted to keep you overnight at the naval hospital at Camp Pendleton and you’d refused. Too many memories in that place. You’d argued until Chris offered to let you stay with him. He could keep an eye on you he’d reasoned. You’d only accepted when he mentioned there were two beds. Despite your odd history with him, you weren’t willing to share a bed. Too much intimacy in that.
He goes to move off your legs but your arms wrap around his abdomen, clinging to him. He rests his chin on your head as you press your forehead against his chest.
His phone rings, startling you all over again. Keeping his right arm around you, he answers.
“Yeah, we’re good. No, don’t do that. She’s fine. Yeah. Ok.” He thumbs off his phone and tosses it onto his empty bed.
“You want to talk about it?”
“Swallows.” You croak, voice spent from screaming.
“What?” He hands you a bottle of water and you drain it.
“My swallows.” He runs a finger over the three birds at your hairline.
“Do you want to tell me? Or do you want a distraction?” He tilts your head up, his blue eyes searching your face.
“Can it be both?” You give a shaky laugh before he captured your mouth in a kiss. You immediately fall into it, your lips parting so he can taste you.
When it ends, you’re both breathless. He gently tucks strands of hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin.
“It was just a clearing. Nothing major.”
“You were EOD?” He’s referring to the bomb disposal squad.
“No. K9. We were detection, not disposal.”
“How many deployments?”
“Two. Both in Iraq. Ramadi and Fallujah.”
“Who was your partner?” You appreciate the fact he refers to your dog as your partner. He was, you were two parts of a single entity.
“German Shepherd. We called him ‘Hawkeye’ because he had this marking on his face that looks like his mask.”
“What haunts you, sweetheart?” He watches your face as you talk. There is no judgment there.
“There was an IED. Somehow the front team missed it. We never did find out how. The Humvee rolled over it. Killed three. Front team and driver of the Humvee. Four more almost died. I was behind them. Hawk and I got thrown from the blast. Nearly 30 feet. Blew out both my eardrums, embedded some shrapnel in my scalp. Six months of recovery. I was a lot luckier than the rest of them.”
“You still feel guilty.”
“Every damn day. I came home alive. Three of my men came home in boxes.”
He tightens his arms around you and you both sit in silence. It no longer feels like you’re suffocating or that your heart is going to explode out of your chest. The heavy on your shoulders, on your heart, doesn’t seem as leaden. You’ve never had anyone ask, never had anyone just sit with you until the panic fades. Outside, the sky has lightened into full dawn outside, light filtering through cracks in the curtains.
Your stomach growls loudly, ruining the moment.
“Hungry sweetheart?”
You nod, it’s been almost 36 hours since you ate anything beyond a protein bar.
“There is a diner nearby.” He climbs off your legs and you feel the rush of blood to your toes. You watch him strip out of his damp t-shirt, standing in just a pair of black boxer briefs that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination and he knows it.
“Named your dog Hawkeye. Never thought you to be a nerd. You’re a woman of many layers.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Do not quote Shrek at me. I have two others now too. Avalanche and Ren.”
He pauses, holding a clean shirt in his hands. “Ren. As in Kylo?”
You scowl and he laughs. “There’s the woman I know. Feeling better?”
As you slide out of bed and you see him admire your tattoos, none of them hidden by your idea of pajamas- a sports bra and boy shorts. “Change your mind about breakfast?”
He considers as he pulls on jeans. “Food first. Further distracting later. I have a late checkout. I mean…” his handsome face is suddenly unsure.
Putting your hands on his to still them, you lean up and brush your lips across his. “I guess you’ll find out.”
@nano--raptor @cchellacat @eurynome827 @jobean12-blog @book-dragon-13 @aesthetical-bucky @marvelgirl7 @sallycanwait68 @buckys-broody-muffin @softpeachbarnes @godofplumsandthunder @azurika-writes @ikaris-whore @this-kitten-is-smitten @randomfandompenguin @bugsbucky @littleredstarfish @imgaril-lindru @becs-bunker
#Lt series#Allie Writes#destroyer!chris x reader#soft destroyer!chris#Destroyer!Chris#PTSD#Nightmares#Fanfic#mood board#angst
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Adventure pt.2
adventure-pt1 adventure-pt3
Chapter two: rage
I watched as fire and ice danced together committed to winning the battle that had raged for centuries, the war that never seamed to end, a war that always seemed to leave ice melted and fire smoldered. I watched in awe as the fire somehow continued to burn even as the ice fought to put it out. Eventually both of the boys realized that they were getting nowhere so they switched to hand to hand combat. Just as I was sure that Bobby was going to win the tables turned and John got him into a headlock, after about twenty seconds of struggling Bobby tapped out leaving Pyro as the winner. “well that was an interesting fight.” I say. Kurt laughs once and agrees. After training I walked outside to feel the cool breeze on my fiery skin. I enjoyed the feeling of the grass beneath my feet, the smell of the fresh air, the warm glow of the golden sun rays on my skin. It was a bit colder outside than it was earlier but it still sent a beam of happiness through me every time I enjoyed the wonder that is the great outdoors. I walked over to my tree and pressed my back against it. I let myself slide down to the ground and I pull a book out of my bag. How to kill a mockingbird. I began to read. ‘I told him in detail about our trip to church with Calpurnia. Atticus seemed to enjoy it, but Aunt Alexandra, who was sitting in a corner quietly sewing, put down her embroidery and stared at us.’ I stopped when I felt someone staring at me. I looked up from my book and found Pyro staring at me. He was playing with his Zippo, flipping the lid up, lighting it then flipping it down again. I look away but not out of fear like everyone else seamed to, something else just caught my attention. I saw a green blur and my eyes went wide. I jumped to my feet and shoved everything in my bag, then sprinted across the lawn. I ran up the stairs of the building about to open the door that Pyro was leaning next to when suddenly a hand grabs my shoulder and I cuss under my breath. “crap.” I slowly turn and see a blue hair boy with bright glowing green eyes. Pyro is listening in withou looking so that we dont think that he’s eavesdropping. “hi, Ethan.” I say failing to keep the irritation out of my voice. He smiles and takes me by the hand. “come on lets go cliff jumping.” He takes me and throws me on his his back. I look back at pyro in fear, and mouth the words, Help me. He walks over to ethan and taps his shoulder. Ethan turns and looks at Pyro. “actually we were about to go to the library so mabey you guys can jump off cliffs some other time.” Ethan drops me and I land on my feet. He smiles at me. “no problem we’ll just go tomorrow.” I’m about to protest but it’s too late he’s gone. I look at Pyro and smile. “thanks.” He nods once and we both head inside. I’m about to turn the corner when he grabs me by the arm. “oh no you dont.” He tosses me over his shoulder and begins walking in the other direction. “hey put me down!” he ignores me. “I told him that we were going to the library so be are going to the library.” I huff and put my fist under my chin looking irritated. We finally got to the library and he drops me onto a large bean bag in the corner. I glare at him. “Your an ass, you know that right.” He chuckles once. “Absolutely.” thats when I spot Kurt across the room. He turns and sees me too. Kurt nug=does his friends and then they all turn Jean smiles and they head over to us. “Hey ,Tiki. What are you doing here?” I glare at Pyro. “I was abducted.” Bobby looks at him and laughs a little. “you kidnapped her?” John smirks. “mabey.” So we all hang out for a little bit, but then I get a text from Luke. ‘911!!! Meet me by the tree.’ “crap.” I jump to my feet and sprint out of the library. I push myself faster and burst through the doors outside. I stop Luke under our tree and sprint towards him. I get down on my knees and take his face in my hands. “are you okay, you dont look hurt, I swear if someone hurt you I’ll kill them” I say. he swats my hands away and then I see the tears in his eyes. The look in my eyes soften and I curl not his side. “whats wrong?” “Jade cheated on me.” Once the word were out of his mouth I was pissed. Suddenly I was on my feet. I know that I saw her in the library. I storm inside with Luke hot on my heels. I storm into the library and Jean and her friend spot me as I walk in. Then I spot her. I bare my teeth and let an angry roar rip through me. My eyes flash red, blood red. I didn’t even remember moving, but the next thing I know I’m in front of her and I grab her by her shirt. I pull my fist back and punch her hard. She manages to get out of my grip and she attacks me back. Before she can even throw a punch I throw my fist at her and she keels over. “How dare you cheat on Luke!!” I screach at the top of my lungs. I pull my fist back and punch her again, I hear a popping sound and then there’s blood rushing down her face. “All he has ever done is love you and this is how you repay him!!?” I grab her by the hair and literally throw her across the room with it. The next thing I know there are three people trying to restrain me. I keep moving forward as if ther was nothing there holding me back. Four more men join the first three trying to keep me away. I screach and my hands burst into flames, burning the seven men holding me. They all let go and cry out in pain. Then I stalk forward letting the flames go out. She’s scurrying backwards trying to get away from me. “If you ever talk to him, look at him or even think about his I swear to you I will kill you and you can run from me all you want...” my eyes flash brighter and now I smile widely. Murder clear in my eyes. “But you can’t hide from me, and no one can protect you.” I say. I let my smile fall and I stand up. I walk back over the Luke and my eye fade back to there normal color. I reach my hand out and he takes it without hesitation. “lets go raid the fridge for icecream.” He smiles and we walk out. I throw the freezer door open looking for icecream. I find a tub of mousse track ice cream. And he grabs two spoons. Now that I had calmed down completely I was crying. Luke ran over to me. “Durga took over didn’t she?” Luke held me and just whispered softly that everything was goin to be fine. I cried harder. I should have been the one holding him not the other way around. Later I go to the Professor’s office because he called me in. I reach out to knock but before I can I hear him call me in. I walk in and inside are several boys as well as the professor. It was clear on my face that I had been crying. My eyes were red and my cheeks stained with tear tracks. “Tiki I have come to understand that you attacked another student and burned seven others in the process.” I immediately look down in shame. “I can’t help it. Not when I get mad like that.” He raises an eyebrow knowing that there most likely more to the story. He gestured to the seat across from him. “explain.” I take a seat and begin. “everyone has both good and bad parts to their mutation. The bad part to mine is my rage. Is like becoming an entirely different person, the first time it happened I ran away and hid in a bunker I had found. I kept away from any living being for two years. Me and my friend Luke have a name for it. Durga, after the Hindu warrior goddess of death. It fits.” I shrug. “after I manage to calm myself enough my eyes will fade back to brown and I forget everything that happened during my rage.” He nods. “well I have a few people here that can help you with you anger. John Allerdyce, Alex Summers, Warren Worthington, and Kurt Wagner. They were present during your episode and have volunteered to help you.” I look at the four boys and then look back at the professor. “I’ll try but I highly doubt any of them can help. The last person who tried got burned and I burned my self in the process too.” He looks surprised. “well until we can get your anger under control you will be staying in a dorm with them. Of course there will be other girls so don’t worry about that.” I roll my eyes at that. “you boys can show her the the dorm now.” He states. John nods and walks over to the door to open it. I roll my eyes and walk over to the open window and launch myself out of it. They race to the window to see what happens and they watch as I Land skillfully on the balls of my feet. Then I sprint across the field and before I can let my irritation get to me knowing that if It does I’ll burst into flames. But I don’t get to the lake fast enough. My entire body bursts into flames and I sprint faster. I dive into the lake and swim across luckily my body is too wet to Burst back into flams. Instead it just smokes. I sprint into the forest and head to the one place that I know I can be at peace. After what feels like ages of sprinting as fast as I can, hurtling over boulders, trampling thorn patches with bare feet and bulldozing through thorn bushes even though that I only have on a thin button down shirt that I had tied so that it wasn’t too long and a pair of black and white adidas short shorts. My clothes were burnt, tattered, and soaked by the time I finally burst into an open field. Immediately I feel my agitation and anger begin to fade. I let my self fall backwards into the soft grass. My body begins to cool down. Soon the sun begins to set and watch as the moon rises. I sigh and rise to my feet. I sprint as fast I can back to the school, and once I burst back through the trees and out into the open a spot John and Alex waiting for me. It had started to rain on my way back so I was soaked and dripping my shirt was burned and tattered, and so were my shorts. I lifted my face up to the sky letting the rain wash over me. I then wipe my face with both my hands and sprint back towards the building. Everyone else was waiting inside. Luke was there too. He saw me and his jaw dropped. “Tiki how long were you out there?” I shrugged. “Five, six hours plus the hour it took to get to my field and back. So six to seven hours.” He rolls his eyes and I sneeze, causing my hair bursts in to flames then goes out. He pulls his jacket off and tries to hand it to me. But I refuse it and speed down the hall. I sit in the library, in front of the fire place. I had a blanket covering me and I was laying on ther floor, just thinking to myself the beautiful flams dancing in the fireplace lulled me to sleep.
A/n: not edited yet I hope you like it. Sorry for the bad writing. I will be making a part four
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Down Below (Chapter 61)
Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.
Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader
Word Count: 1449 words
Warning: swearing, mention of murder and violence
✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤
While Clarke, Niylah and I rushed to look for Madi, I stopped. Clarke turned around, stopped as well and tried to catch her breath. 'We don't have time to sit around, if Gaia inserts the flame were screwed.'
'No, I need to look for Octavia.'
'Okay, go. We'll go stop Bellamy and Gaia.' Niylah said.
Without second guessing, I quickly ran the other way. By guessing where she was at, I was sure Jackson and Indra kept her somewhere comfortable. After all, her brother put her in a coma purposefully.
Reaching the room, I stormed into Octavia lying on a bed. Indra stood next to her, watching over her as she was still unconscious. 'Octavia!'
'Y/N, where were you?' Indra asked.
'Bellamy drugged me and locked me up with Clarke. Indra, are you in on this with him?'
'No, I would never do anything to harm Octavia. I've eventually figured out he did this to her.' Indra's face flushed with guilt, 'Jackson eventually found out and I had to take him out.'
I crossed my arms, 'Hm. I knew it, you were behind killing Cooper as well. Why are you on their side? Don't you want Wonkru to survive?'
'Surrendering is helping Wonkru, why don't you see that? If we declare war on the only survival place on Earth, it's going to be destroyed. All of this for what? Pride?' Indra clenched her fist, stepping closer towards me.
'Glad to know where you stand, Indra.' Octavia sat up on the bed, pulling wires off of herself. 'Siding with a traitor that nearly killed me.'
'Gaia is probably putting the flames into Madi as we speak, we have to hurry. Clarke already went to look for her.'
Octavia hopped off the bed, 'I'm ashamed of you Indra.'
'And I'm afraid of you. I'm afraid of both of you and what you two have become. I blame myself for all of this and I don't want to make the same mistake.'
'You and all the other adults watched while we had to sacrifice everything!' Octavia wheezed as her body was still trying to recover from Monty's algae. 'You're a coward, just like everyone else.'
Octavia took a deep breath, then looked at me. 'Y/N, lets go.'
✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤
There was a herd of guards surrounding the area as Octavia and I finally reached the building. Squeezing through them, I then saw a little girl laying on the table unconscious as Clarke hovered over her. ‘Clarke?’
‘They’ve already put the flame in her. I was too late.’ She said as she caressed Madi’s cheeks. ‘I can’t pull it out of her either. It can damage her brain and she may never wake up. I can't let that happen to her.'
In the corner of my eye, I saw Bellamy starring at me. Being so busy worrying about Octavia and looking for Clarke with her kid, I totally forgot about him.
Our eyes met, he looked at me with hateful eyes. Bellamy never looked at me that way before. It hurt my heart to see him glare at me as if I was his enemy, as someone he didn’t love at all.
Even after he poisoned my friend, drugging me and locking me up, I still can’t hate him. I still couldn’t fall out of love but I guess that wasn’t the case with him. After betraying Wonkru, I now have to see the one person I truly loved possibly die.
‘Arrest the traitors.’ Octavia shouted.
I pulled my hand out, stopping the guards from going near Bellamy. ‘No, I got him.’
The guards nodded and continued to arrest Gaia while I cuffed Bellamy with his hands behind his back. Grabbing onto him, we walked toward the bunker. ‘Why did you do something as stupid as this Blake?’
‘That’s funny coming from you.’
‘I can’t believe you-’ All I can think about was him sitting on top of me, covering the rag on my face as he drugged me. I couldn’t say it didn’t scar me but seeing Bellamy like that had an affect on me. 'You drugged me.'
'You've done worst to your people. Don't act like this is all brand new.' His tone of voice was scary, scarier than the days when he sided with Pike.
'I'm sorry I tried to protect my family!' I didn't know what got over me, the shouting came out of nowhere. Maybe perhaps I knew where it came from; it was all the anger, fear and sadness I buried deep down for six years.
Bellamy eyed me, looking down at me. 'You kill, slaughter your own people. That's not protecting.'
'You have no right to tell me how to protect my people. We're doing everything to keep Wonkru together.'
'Is that what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night, Skafaiya?' He rolled his eyes and chuckled. 'At least I had the decency to only go after our enemy. Pike and I didn't kill our own. Never.'
'You're my boyfriend and you drugged me!' I pushed Bellamy on his chest. 'You didn't attack your people but you hurt me! You poisoned your own sister.'
He raised his eyebrows, 'If Monty didn't limit my Algae I would've have poisoned you too instead of just Octavia.'
'You-you don't mean that.' My heart immediately started thumping really fast. Faster than when I first killed a human, even faster than when I had my first kiss. This feeling was different and I felt like my world was falling apart.
Bellamy took a deep breath and paused for a little bit, watching me as I struggled to hold in my tears. All the years of hell and I've never been this close to shedding a tear.
'I somewhat get why Octavia is doing what she's doing. She went from being the girl under the floor to being a leader to a clan of 1200 people. Maybe all the pressure got her power hungry. I don't agree with what she's doing at all but I see why she's struggling.'
'You Reyes?' He bit his lips, 'You've lead us through tough times, fought a war we'd thought we've never come out of. You sacrificed yourself for us multiple times and damn it you're the strongest person I've ever met. One of a million reasons why I love you.'
'How do you go from that to being this? This demon that's slowly killing every single people you've sacrificed your life for. Not only you, everyone that died along the way too. Imagine Finn, Jasper, Lincoln and all the other people that died seeing you right now. They wouldn't even recognize you. You haven't even seen your sister yet and I don't know if I want Raven to see you like this.'
I starred into the distance, thinking of all the bad I've done while I was down there. I started imagining Finn watching me from behind the fence as I execute the warriors of Wonkru.
What was worst was that after all of this, I've hurt Bellamy. All the community we help built and keeping people alive, I ruined everything instantly. I let him down and while he was in space trying to be good, I was down here doing the worst human could ever do.
It didn't matter how the Dark Year started, I was still a part of it and I thought I didn't have a choice. We could've went the other path but I chose to be weak. I was okay with everything that happened during that time.
As a leader, I could've stepped up and helped Octavia and not drown her with me. Despite all the adults in Wonkru, I should've known better than to trust them. I've been down on Earth and survived without them, we could've survive the bunker easily too.
The sound of broken branches startled me as two guards approached us, asking if we were doing alright. Trying to act normal, I readjusted myself and blinked to make sure tears weren't coming out. 'Yes, we're okay.'
'Let us know if you need anything.'
'Actually-' Bellamy called for the guards, 'Can you take me instead? Reyes and I are done talking.'
One of the guard nodded, gripping onto Bellamy's cuff and walked away. The other trailed from behind, following them down to the cell in the bunker.
I stood there, watching Bellamy as if he was going to turn around and give me a smile.
It pained me to see him walk away because this time it was different. Bellamy turned away as if he was leaving my life for good. Perhaps that would be better for him. He would be better off without me anyways.
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tag list; @jodiereedus22, @coffeebooksandfandom, @bellamyblakemorley, @wisestydia-15, @dbtvluv , @hurricane–amelia , @lexalexy , @olkathefoxi, @lena-davina, @kellbell44, @thehakunamatara, @akelly4477, @morgannope, @littlegirl-fox, @captainam-erika-trash, @greygarbage, @nathaliabakes, @eternallyvenus, @rauwz, @broco8, @eridanuswave
#bellamy blake x reader#bellamy blake fic#bellamy blake series#the 100 series#down below series#raven reyes x sister!reader
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The 100 rewatch: 4x10 Die All, Die Merrily
I solemnly swear to myself that I’ll start writing short rewatch posts starting with the next episode, because I would like to finish this rewatch before the end of season 6. This will have to be the last long one...
This entire episode is basically JRoth and The 100 trying to do a Hunger Games episode, only without the essence of The Hunger Games series – where this violent death match between (usually) 12 participants was portrayed as a terrible thing, an example of the cruelty, privilege and voyeurism of the ruling classes and the oppressiveness of the system, while here, in The 100, it’s just a Grounder tradition that the show doesn’t seem to pass any judgment on and that’s just a way to have some cool sword fighting action on screen.
But a lot of people really love this episode. It’s probably the most overrated episode of the show. Now, don’t get me wrong, it is a very good episode. What is does – the fights are well staged, unlike the one in 3x04, and the action, the drama, even some the emotional moments, it all works very well. That’s why I gave it a pretty high rating. It would be in my top 30. Maybe not my top 25? But I’ve seen so many people, including media articles, call it one of the best episodes of the show, put it in top 10 or even top 5 best episodes…and that’s just odd. Come on, it’s not top 10 material. It’s not in my top 5 episodes of season 4 (let alone the entire show). But I guess people really love sword fighting?
In retrospect, the main purpose of this episode was to set up Octavia as the Osleya – Red Queen/Blodreina, making her the winner of this version of Grounder Conclave, and the ruler of the bunker. Now, pretty much every viewer could have guessed she would win, because she’s one of the main characters and has a massive Plot Armor, but in-universe, Octavia was the dark horse, the least likely to win out of the 13 participants. She’s been training in Grounder fighting for some 6 months, but that’s nothing compared to all the others, who had been training and fighting all their lives. The show hasn’t often been too realistic about her fighting skills, but this time, to be fair, her victory is made to look a little bit more realistic because her tactic is to do what she is uniquely qualified to do – hide, let the others kill each other, and wait for the moment when she can kill the last living opponent.
This is Octavia’s most triumphant moment, when she wins, and then when she decides to not keep the bunker just for Sky people (who would have filled just 400 out of 1200 places) but to share the bunker between all the clans. * And with that, Octavia becomes the Queen and Savior in the eyes of the Grounders and unite all the clans, living the dream that Lexa tried but failed to make happen.
* …Oh wait, wasn’t that the exact same thing Clarke suggested to Indra, Roan and the other Grounder leaders in the previous episode, and they all ignored her, because they preferred war over the bunker, and then to fight the Conclave, and flat out told her that they wouldn’t listen to her because she’s not a Commander? If you want Grounders to listen to you, you must either kill a dozen other people in the Hunger Games-like sworf fight, and/or have “special blood” from birth and then have a chip with dead people’s voices put in your head. You may have good ideas, Clarke, but it means nothing if you can’t fight with a sword.
From the point of view of the characters in-universe, they gained absolutely nothing with this Conclave that they wouldn’t have had if they had accepted Clarke’s suggestion – except 12 of them would be still alive. Roan, who suggested the Conclave, only managed to get himself killed. But in terms of the narrative purpose, this is the show raising Octavia high, making her the hero/savior/queen, just to make her a tyrant and a villain in season 5. It’s also why some other characters needed to die so Octavia’s dark story could happen – Roan, because having a strong and sly Grounder leader in the bunker would prevent the same power dynamic; Ilian, because his relationship with Octavia was starting to become (gasp!) healthy and healing, and we can’t have that. And then there’s Luna, who goes full grimdark, wiyh the worst “DEAATH TO EVERYONE! Humanity doesn’t deserve to survive!” nihilism, so she could be the main antagonist, and also push Clarke into her own desperate actions.
Luna’s character turn used to be one of my two main problems with this episode. I used to really like her, and this seemed like a completely OOC twist. But she is the character I’ve changed my mind the most on during my rewatch, and now I think this turn was foreshadowed and in character for her.
But my other big problem with this episode still stands. It de-protagonizes Clarke, and pushes her into a pseudo-antagonist role, by framing the episode as a battle where the audience roots for Octavia (and Bellamy) and spends all the time with them and other people involved in the Conclave, directly or indirectly, while not letting us see Clarke’s perspective and her decision-making for more than a few short moments early on, which are easy to forget when you’re watching the episode for the first time. Obviously, the goal was to make the twist ending more surprising. And because of that, I was really confused the first time I watched this, and didn’t understand how Clarke went from asking for everyone to share the bunker (and refusing to let Roan be assassinated, so only Arkers people and Trikru would share the bunker – which, apparently, even saintly Kane agreed to!), to stealing the bunker for the Arkers with Jaha. But on rewatch, Clarke’s motives and state of mind are so much clearer and more relatable to me throughout season 4 – and, to be fair, this episode does set up her reasons early on. It just distracts the viewers too much with the Conclave itself, which the viewers know Octavia is likely to win. But looking at the situation as the characters themselves see it, Clarke’s decision to steal the bunker makes sense – certainly a lot more sense than the Conclave itself, which is an incredibly stupid way to make decisions on the survival of the human race.
I used to be one of the people who really liked Luna and thought she was this wonderful voice of morality and non-violence, and when she appeared with the whole “I fight for death!” thing, it seemed out of nowhere. But she’s the character I’ve changed my mind the most on rewatch. What was I thinking? I guess I was just tired at the time of all the people celebrating violence and ruthlessness. Rewatching seasons 3 and 4, I realized that 1) this turn was, actually, in-character, and that 2) even before that, her pacifism was of the wrong kind and her moralizing was always hollow. She was running away because she was scared of humanity’s, or rather, her own capacity for violence, but she was OK with letting the rest of the world fall apart, as long as she could stay in her little bubble and not get her hands dirty. Maybe that’s a bit harsh. I’m aware that she’s been through terrible things – Grounder traditions are awful, she had to kill her own brother, and then everyone she loved died and she remained the last of her people. But even before the latter happened, she was flat out refusing to take the Flame and save the world from ALIE. Which, fine, her choice, and having voices of dead people in your head is pretty messed up – but she didn’t care if the rest of the world was enslaved by ALIE, as long as she thought her people would stay safe on their oil rig. Then, in season 4, after all of them had died of radiation, she didn’t want to help save the entire human race from Praimfaya, and had to be convinced to do it. Instead, she was moralizing about how humans may not deserve to survive. If you don’t want to save people because they aren’t morally perfect enough for you, there’s something wrong with you and your own morality. Having that in mind, it’s not OOC that she ended up making the step from letting the human race die, to actively trying to kill everyone.
(BTW, does Nightblood give people superpowers – and I don’t mean the ability to survive radiation and have the Flame or mind drives in their heads, but things like superior strength, agility, speed…? In season 4, I was definitely under the impression that it does, since Roan made that remark in 4x08 about Nightbloods like Lexa and Luna being superior fighters. And that would explain why Luna is supposed to be the most dangerous warrior of them all, which otherwise wouldn’t make a lot of sense, since she hasn’t done almost any real fighting for about a decade (I don’t know if she trained, I guess she should have just done it for sports), but she’s better than all of those other people, many of whom are physically much stronger than her if Nightblood doesn’t give you superstrength and who have been training and fighting all the time. You can’t even headcanon something like “she has the skills of all the previous Commanders in her head” as you can with Lexa. But nothing we’ve seen with Clarke, Madi or the Primes suggests that about Nightblood, so I’m very confused now. To be fair, The 100 was never very realistic about fighting skills, especially not when it comes to the Girl with a Sword characters.)
In any case, for the purpose of the show, Luna is the clear favorite, and Octavia is the least likely to win. Clarke is well aware of it, though she pretends otherwise in order to give Octavia encouragement. Bellamy is also aware of it, but he has to put all the hopes in his sister, because he loves her so much and can’t accept the idea of her dying. He also gives Octavia the best advice - use her experience of hiding as “Girl under the floor”, hide and let the others mostly kill each other.
While Kane also decides to hope for the best, Jaha really isn’t happy about having the Conclave as a way to decide who survives, and thinks it’s stupid (of course, he’s right), but, unlike the others, also doesn’t believe the Grounders would honor the deal if Octavia won. However, Kane assures him they take the tradition as sacred. We can see Clarke listening carefully – and, no doubt, thinking that Luna is most likely to win, and if they really honor the outcome, that would mean everyone would die (except Luna, that is – who really would be the last person on Earth). Clarke then goes to find Roan and tell him they have to stop Luna (while Echo is listening), but Roan blames her for disrespecting their traditions etc. Clarke tells him that she wants the humanity to survive, even if it’s not her people. (Which shines more light on her motivation. As she points out in 4x11, excluding any of the Arkers from the bunker means that the Grounders wouldn’t have anyone to run hydro generators and produce artificial food etc. But she made her decision to steal the bunker only after Luna entered the picture, and the possibility of the human race all dying became very likely.) Roan doesn’t listen and tells her to leave before she “dishonors her people even more”. Huh. Interesting views on honor. This is a guy who has no problem ordering assassinations and wasn’t upset when his army was burning villages and killing people just for the sake of it, but he takes Grounder traditions very seriously, as seen later when he banished Echo for cheating at the Conclave. However, Clarke’s words seem to have gotten more than he was ready to admit, because, in the end, he came to his senses and offered Octavia an alliance against Luna, deciding that, after all, the most important thing is for the human race to survive.
There are hints of what would happen that I didn’t notice the first time: Close-up of Clarke in thoughts. Close-up of Echo, also deep in thoughts, and deciding to cheat at the Conclave. IMO, Echo’s actions in this episode are more defensible and understandable than anything else she’s done up to this point. Everything else she did was for Azgeda to get more power, or she used the “I was following orders” excuse, but this time, it really is a matter of survival, so I can’t even blame her for deciding to kill a bunch of people to ensure that Azgeda gets the bunker, in the sneaky way, rather than by the rules, as Roan is trying.
One of the strengths of this episode are all the emotional moments. There is a big one between Indra and Octavia, as Indra genuinely gives her advice to help her, which Octavia finds strange, since, if she won, it would mean her people wouldn’t get the bunker, but Indra tells her she’s her people, too. The meaning of the phrase “my people” means is something the characters are constantly defining for themselves. (Interesting that same phrase “You are my people” was said in season 2 by Clarke to Lincoln, at the time when he still wasn’t living in Arkadia.) Indra is Octavia’s surrogate mother in a way, and considers her family. Besides, I don’t think it’s that odd to wish her luck, since the odds of her directly facing the Trikru warrior aren’t high anyway.
Gaia and Indra get a rare mother/daughter moment, when Gaia cries in her mother’s arms after the Trikru warrior is one of the first to fall. As far as they know at that point, this means death for them and all other Trikru.
Octavia and Ilian later do their best to pretend they are Katniss and Peeta in the first Hunger Games, since he is saving her and offering her alliance against the others, while she is rejecting it because she’d then have to kill him. He claims he didn’t volunteer to be there because of her, but it could have been a combination of motives. His entire family is dead, he will also die, but in a much worse way, of radiation, in a few days, unless one of this people wins the Conclave, but I’m sure he also wants to give Octavia more chance to possibly win, and the odds of the two of them being the last are very slim.
Of course, this episode also has big emotional moments for the Blake sibling relationship, and brings them together after almost two seasons of conflict – or rather, of Octavia being angry at Bellamy. Which leaves me halfway between feeling its’s heartwarming. and feeling bitter that it’s still all about Octavia forgiving Bellamy, after beating him bloody at one point. It’s a two-episode storyline - at the beginning, Bellamy regrets he wasn’t able to tell his sister that he loves her, even at the end of the world. (He gets the chance to do that in the next episode.) When Bellamy realizes that Echo is cheating, he decides to go in there to stop her. (I like how the show made it look for a moment like Kane will be against it, but then it turns out he just tells Bellamy to wait till it’s dark, so he wouldn’t be discovered.)
After killing a few people including mortally wounding Ilian, Echo tries to kill Octavia, again, and Bellamy stops her, and in their fight, almost chokes her to death. Bellamy chokes or strangles people quite often. Four episodes later, these two will be an item. Sure, it’s 6 years in-universe, but for the viewers, very short time, and Bellamy and Echo will have just one one-to-one scene together before they become a couple. I guess trying to kill each other counts as setup for romance on The 100, it’s like an equivalent of at least six months of dating.
Roan stops him and then banishes Echo, and Octavia overhears Bellamy talk about his love for her – telling Roan that he was the “lucky one” to have her as a sister. Is feeling unconditional love lucky, even if that person treats you like crap most of the time? Anyway, Octavia is very moved. I guess she really did not realize before how much Bellamy loved her, which is almost unbelievable - if anything was always super-obvious, it was how much Bellamy loves his sister and how much he was willing to do for her.
There are a lot of mentions of Lincoln. Octavia’s final decision to share the bunker is obviously supposed to be something inspired by what Lincoln believed in - and Octavia and Luna even argue over who Lincoln would be ashamed of. Which is silly, because Luna must be aware she’s talking nonsense and that he wouldn’t approve of what she’s doing. But most of what she says in this episode is BS, as when she goes on about how Skaikru taught her that people are selfish and awful. (Really? The Mountain Men didn’t, the Grounders fighting each other all the time didn’t, making her kill her own brother and fight other children in the Conclave, nothing? But when Skaikru tried to find a way for everyone to survive Praimfaya, which ended with Clarke injecting herself with Nightblood and volunteering to risk her life and be tested? That convinced her that people are awful and selfish? OK then.) She only starts making sense when she finally admits it is all about herself – she clearly has been traumatized and afraid of her own capacity from violence and darkness since she killed her brother in the Conclave.
Twist! Bellamy is kidnapped. And then we get the twist ending OMG! Shock! They stole the bunker! “They used the gas to knock everyone out, as in Mount Weather". Dum dum dum – another comparison to Mountain Men OMG, they are as bad as the Mountain Men, because they can use gas and… they knocked those people out that stood in their way, instead of killing them all (as Azgeda and Trikru had a habit of doing this season)? Uuum...
Timeline: There are 3 days left until the death wave comes, and the conclave lasts one day and one night.
Body count: All the people who die in this episode die in the Conclave: 12 Grounder warriors, chronologically:
Two warriors, including the Fio of Trikru (recurring character – he’s the guy who used to beat up Octavia in 2x11), killed by Roan;
two are killed by Echo’s arrows;
one warrior killed by Ilian, who was helping Octavia, another by some other warrior, one by Octavia (this was during one four-way fight);
two by Luna;
Ilian, mortally wounded by Echo and then Octavia mercy-killed him at his request (dramatic irony – she threatened earlier that she’ll kill him the next time she sees him);
Roan, killed by Luna, in a pretty horrifying manner, slicing his stomach and drowning him in a fountain of radioactive rain;
Luna, stabbed from behind by Octavia, after falling for a pretty cheap trick.
Rating: 8.5/10
Bonus:
Episodes 4x09-4x10 in a nutshell:
Grounders * fight a war for the bunker *
Clarke: The end of the world is coming! Instead of fighting, we could all share the bunker instead! There is place for more than just one clan!
Grounders: Meh. We don't care, we prefer war, and we would only listen to you if you were a Commander!
Clarke * is exasperated by everyone's stubborn and stupid behaviorand the probability of everyone dying * OK then, I'll make myself a Commander *
Roan: She became a Nightblood through science! Blasphemy!
Grounders: What an insult to our sacred traditions that were started 90 years ago by a bunch of nutty cultists and a scientist who made Nightblood through science so people could get computer chips in their heads! So, let's have war.
Roan: Let's have Hunger Games instead. The one tradition we love more than hereditary special blood that lets you get a computer chip in your head. A dozen people killing each other with swords is the best way to decide the fate of the human race!
* everyone agrees*
Luna: Hi. I'm the strongest fighter by far, and I want to fight so I can destroy the entire human race. DIE DIE DIE! DEATH TO EVERYONE!
Everyone: Well, that's fair. She will probably win and everyone will die. Reasonable. Let's hope that it doesn't happen.
Clarke * is really exasperated * Oh, hell no. I better make sure at least some people survive. * steals the bunker *
Octavia: * wins against all odds * We should all share the bunker!
Everyone: This is such a great idea, because someone who can fight with a sword said it! Hey, wait, what happened?
Clarke: .........
#the 100#the 100 rewatch#the 100 season 4#the 100 4x10#die all die merrily#clarke griffin#octavia blake#bellamy blake#roan kom azgeda#echo#roan#echo kom azgeda#ilian kom trishanakru#luna kom floukru#Indra#indra kom trikru
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We Don’t Always Get What We Want
Summary: Sam dies, and Dean and his daughter have very different ways of dealing with the grief.
Pairings: Dean x daughter, Sam x niece in memories?
Word Count: 3792
Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, mention of underage drinking, some swears (2? 3?) and then some fluff?
Author’s Note: This fic was written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing’s SPN Beautiful Word’s Challenge. Not gonna lie, I bawled my eyes out writing this, but it was also so much fun! The word I picked was Chrysalism, and I think it turned out well! I hope you guys enjoy, and if you wanna give me some feedback, I wouldn’t be opposed to it!
Dean’s felt pain before.
He felt it when his dad died. He felt it when Bobby died. He felt it when Charlie died.
He has never felt a pain like this.
He swings another bunch of logs over his shoulder, dropping them onto the growing pile of wood. He managed to find a quiet, private beach, perfect to burn a body on. He stares at the pile of logs for a long moment, before he shifts his eyes to the car where his daughter was, refusing to leave. Through the darkness of the night, he can see her in the front seat, her knees tucked to her chest, her head resting on the window. He swallows hard, looking down at the bagged body on the ground. He lifts the body up, struggling slightly as his brother was bigger than him, laying him down ever so gently.
Sam was dead.
Dean blinks away the tears as best he can, grabbing the salt he had brought from the car. He looks at it in his hand, realizing he was slightly shaky. He sprinkles it over his brother’s lifeless, bagged body, before he drops the salt to the ground, not caring if it was spilling everywhere.
“I’m so sorry, Sammy,” Dean whispers, not being able to contain the tears anymore. “I had one job in this world, and I screwed it up. I let you die and-” Dean has to pause, bringing his hand up to his face to wipe the tears away quickly. “I messed up, Sammy. I’m gonna carry this weight for the rest of my fucking life. I’m so sorry I let this happen to you.” He reaches to the ground, picking up the gasoline jug, squirting it all over the black sack. Setting it down, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a matchbox. He takes a single match out, striking it as he watches the flame burn. In a quick motion, he throws it onto the mound, letting the tears from his eyes carelessly fall. “I’m gonna miss you, little brother.”
Sera shifts her eyes to her dad, watching as he drops the match onto the pile of wood that was holding her uncle Sammy up. The same uncle Sammy that had taught her the alphabet when she was in preschool. The same uncle Sammy that helped her with all of her homework. The same uncle Sammy that was there for her in all the times her dad couldn’t be. The same uncle Sammy who was killed by a demon. A fire erupts on the beach, close to the Impala, as Sera shuts her eyes briefly. How could her dad just give up like that? How could he just his burn his brothers bones, ensuring the fact that there was no way he could come back. She shakes her head, before she opens her eyes, pushing the Impala door open. She needed to say her goodbyes to her uncle. Dad be damned, I owe it to uncle Sammy. She holds the blanket she was wrapped in around her shoulders, as she walks towards her dad and the fire.
“When will Daddy be home?” a 5 year old Sera asks, sitting next to her uncle on the couch.
“What, am I not good enough for you?” Sam teases, poking his nieces side. “He’ll be back on Monday, he’s only gone for the weekend.”
Sera nods, shifting her eyes back to the kids movie that was playing on the tv. “Uncle Sammy?”
“Yes monkey?”
“Would you still like me if I had 3 eyes?” Sera asks, looking up at her uncle.
He chuckles softly, pulling her closer to his side. “I would still love you if you had 3 eyes.”
“What if I had blue skin?!”
“I would still love you if you had blue skin.”
“If I was-,” she starts, before Sam cuts her off.
“Where are all these questions coming from?” he asks her, watching as she shrugs slightly. “I’ll always love you, kiddo. Even when you’re big and think you’re cooler than me, even when we get in fights, even when you say you hate me, I’ll always love you.”
Sera smiles, leaning her head back on her uncles side. “I’ll always love you too, uncle Sammy.” Sam smiles, leaning down as he presses a kiss to the top of her head.
She pushes the memory away, fighting back the tears. When she reaches the fire she stops next to her dad, looking at him quickly, the fire illuminating his face just enough that she could see the tear stains on his cheeks. Neither of them speak, the only sounds filling the night air being the waves rolling and crashing onto the shore, and the crackling of the wood in the fire. Sera can feel tears forming in her own eyes, as she looks back at the black body bag that held her uncle, her partner in crime, and one of her favourite people.
“You should’ve tried harder,” Sera manages through teary eyes, breaking the tense but peaceful silence.
“What?” Dean asks, looking over at his 17 year old daughter.
“You should’ve tried harder,” Sera repeats, her jaw clenched now, tears streaming down her face. “You gave up. You just stopped trying.”
“Sweetheart, I tried everything,” Dean tells his daughter, almost offended that she thought he wouldn’t. “I contacted every angel I could, I tried to sell my soul again, I looked into faith healers and black magic and everything in between, but there was nothing. I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything.”
“S-so you give up?” Sera asks, attempting to control her sobs. “Dad, you’ve told me my entire l-ife that you don’t give up on people you l-love. How was it so e-asy for you to give up on uncle Sam?”
“Easy?” Dean demands, watching her. “You think this was easy for me? I’ve spent my entire life trying to protect him. That’s what I’ve done since I was 4 years old. My entire being was built around him being safe. So no, Sera, giving up wasn’t easy, but there was no way in hell I was letting Sam turn into a vengeful spirit. You and I both know that he wouldn’t want that.”
Sera stares into the fire, before she speaks. “You should’ve tried harder.” With that, she turns and walks away, heading back to the Impala. Dean watches her leave, before he looks back at his brother. Silence ensues again, only the sounds of the wood snapping and the waves crashing heard.
---
It had been about a week since Sam had been gone, and things around the bunker hadn’t been the same. Sera and Dean had gone the entire week, not saying anything more than a “hi” or “hello” when passing each other.
Dean feels as if he’s lost his daughter. They’ve always been close, but right now he’s never felt more distant from her. He knows that right now they need each other more than anything, but with both of them being so hard-headed, neither of them were willing to take the first step to fix things.
Dean was done with not doing anything.
He takes a deep breath, standing outside his daughter’s bedroom in the hallway. Sera didn’t leave her room other than to get food, go to the bathroom, or go for a drive. She did her best to avoid her dad, or so Dean thought. He knocks on her door lightly, calling out to her. “Sweetheart, you in there?”
“I’m here,” Sera answers from behind the closed door. “What do you want?”
“Can I come in?” Dean asks her, not moving to open the door until she allows him.
“No.”
Dean sighs, resting his forehead on her bedroom door, his voice soft. “Baby girl, please. We’ve gotta talk about this.”
“No we don’t.”
Dean hates this more than anything. He hates how his daughter is pushing him away. “It’s been a week, kiddo. I miss you, please don’t shut me out.”
“I’m busy, maybe later,” Sera states, and Dean can tell she’s done with this conversation. He steps back from her door, nodding slightly even though she can’t see him.
“Okay, I uh- I guess I’ll be around if you want to talk.”
---
It had been two weeks now, and Dean was beyond glad that Sera was doing things out of her room more and more. She would eat her meals in the kitchen. She’d do some reading in the library. She’d spend some free time in the war room.
But with that came the going out more with her friends, which of course, Dean was still happy about. He was glad his daughter was feeling better and was willing to do more, but he wasn’t quite happy with the activities that she was partaking in.
Dean checks his watch, rubbing his face afterwards. It was 2:30am, and Sera hadn’t come home yet. Recently, she had been staying out later and later, and Dean was concerned for her safety. She wouldn’t check in with him, wouldn’t answer his phone calls, wouldn’t interact with him at all.
He’s torn from his thoughts when the bunker door slams. From his seat in the war room, he shifts his eyes up to the top of the staircase, seeing his daughter stumbling inside. “Sera? Are you okay?”
“I’m better than ever, daddy-o,” she slurs, smiling down at him. Dean gets up, walking to the bottom of the stairs as Sera descends them, gripping onto the railing as she walks. “Y’know, it’s amazing what some alcohol can do for you.”
“Have you been drinking?” Dean asks, his eyes meeting his daughters when she reaches the bottom.
“Pfft, no dad. Have you been drinking?”
“Don’t lie to me,” Dean threatens, not taking his eyes off of her. “You smell like alcohol. You’re drunk.”
“I swear to drunk I am not God,” Sera slurs, giggling as she looks at her dad. “I feel all floaty right now.”
Dean’s mad. He’s more than mad. He is beyond pissed. All of his being wants to yell at her, to tell her that this kind of behaviour, the underage drinking, the curfew breaking, that all of this is unacceptable. But he un-clenches his fists instead, bringing his hands to set them on the sides of his daughter’s face. He leans in and plants a kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay.” For a moment, she stands there, letting him interact with her for more than a second at a time. Sera all of a sudden pushes him back, stumbling slightly herself.
“Go away!” she exclaims, steadying herself on the railing. “Don’t- don’t touch me!”
Dean’s hands fall to his sides, his heart breaking slightly as he watches her. “Sweetheart, come on. This isn’t you. The drinking and the curfew breaking, this isn’t you. I need you back. I need my real Sera back.”
Sera chuckles, blowing a dramatic breath out of her mouth. “Yeah? Well I need my dead uncle back, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?” Dean looks at her, his jaw dropping slightly at his daughter’s outburst, before he watches her turn and head towards her bedroom.
---
It had been a month now, and there was still no change between Dean and his daughter. They still weren’t talking normally to each other, Sera was still rebelling, and Dean has had about all he can take. He walks outside of the bunker, knowing exactly where his daughter would be. He sees his daughter in Sam’s BMW. He looks up at the sky, almost as a silent plea, acknowledging how dark and gloomy it was outside.
He saunters over to the car, noticing how his daughter was sitting. She had her knees tucked up to her chest, her chin resting on them. She was staring straight ahead, probably lost in thought. Dean knocks on the passenger side window after trying the door, which was locked. She shifts her eyes to to him, not moving to do anything.
“Unlock it,” Sera can hear her dad say, as she rolls her eyes, pressing the unlock button on the door. Dean gets in, looking over at her. “I’ve had about as much as I can take, kiddo.”
“That’s nice,” Sera tells him, looking straight ahead again.
“That’s all your gonna say? Aren’t you tired of this?”
Sera swallows hard, shrugging slightly. “A little, I guess.”
Dean shifts his eyes to her, staying quiet as he observes. She looks exhausted, the bags under her eyes darker than ever. Her eyes are red, and Dean can tell she’s been crying. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, trying to start a conversation. Before he can continue, she breaks down, sobbing into her hands. “Hey hey hey,” he tries, pulling her towards him.
“Don’t!” she screams. These were more than tears of sadness. These were tears of anger. She pushes him back, opening the car door, slamming it after she gets out. Dean gets out quickly, rounding the car so he was standing across from her.
The skies had opened up, rain pouring down around the both of them, thunder heard out in the distance. “Come here,” Dean says softly, opening his arms for her. If it were up to him, she’d have accepted his hug, and they’d work things out. But it wasn’t up to him.
Sera shakes her head, feeling the anger build inside her. “This is your fault!” she shouts, not bothering to stop her tears. “You’re the reason I’m like this!” Dean watches his daughter lash out, shaking his head slowly. “It is! Uncle Sam is dead because of you! Because you gave up on him!”
Dean watches his daughter barrel towards him, her fists out. She slams into him, pounding her fists into his chest. Her attacks were random, and Dean knew they weren’t meant to hurt him. They were mindless in a sense, not meant to harm or disable him. They didn’t hurt, he was a lot stronger than his daughter. So he stands there, letting his teenager attack him. “Why aren’t you fighting back?!” she sobs, not giving up.
“I’m not going to fight you, sweetheart,” Dean tells her, watching as she pauses for a moment to look at him.
Sera glares at her dad through teary eyes, before she starts to pound on his chest again, pushing him back slightly. “Fight back! Fight me back!”
“No,” Dean replies calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“F-fight me b-back!” she repeats over and over again, not giving up the relentless attacks on her dad.
“You can blame me all you want, kiddo. You can hit me and you can yell at me, and that’s okay. If it makes you feel better, do it. If this is how you want to work things out, I’m all for it. But I’m not going to fight back.”
Through Dean’s speech, he almost misses the fist that was coming straight for his jaw. He quickly catches his daughters wrist with his left hand, twisting it up behind her back. He was gentle, making sure he wasn’t hurting her, just making it uncomfortable. He grunts when his daughters foot connects with his shin, before he uses his foot to softly kick out Sera’s feet from beneath her. She falls to the ground, with nowhere to go. Her right arm still twisted up behind her back, her left pinned underneath of her body. Dean kneels down next to his daughter, using his own leg to keep the two of hers pinned.
“Are you done?” Dean asks softly, kneeling next to her. He feels his daughters tense body beneath him relax, and he knew that was the moment Sera had given up. He looks at his daughters form, it was pathetic almost. Not in the bad sense, but in the sense that this was how she wanted to deal with her emotions. He meets her one green eye that peeking out through the mess of wet, blonde hair. Her face was covered in wet gravel, her jeans ripped from falling. He lets go of her arm, sitting back on the ground. He bends his knees, resting his forearms on them.
“You used to talk to me, kiddo. We used to never go to bed angry with each other. You’ve barely said a word to me this past month,” Dean sighs, watching Sera. She hadn’t moved from the position she had fallen into, her right arm still just hanging behind her back. “I don’t know what you want from me, baby girl. I’m trying here, I’m really trying.” Dean looks up at the sky, letting the rain fall onto his face, his eyes closed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired, Sera. I’m tired of the fighting and the anger. I’m tired of you bottling everything up inside until you explode.” He stays quiet for a moment, trying to see if Sera would take over, but she doesn’t. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” Dean sighs. Suddenly, Sera’s reacting. She moves slightly, bringing her arms over to her face, as if she’s trying shield herself from him. “I miss him,” she says in a whisper so quiet that Dean almost misses it. He can feel his heart break. She’s miserable, she’s destroyed. When she breaks, intense sobs escape her, tears streaming down her face. Like lightning, Dean is over beside her, sitting next to her. He pulls her into his lap, cradling her. To others it may look strange, Sera wasn’t a little girl anymore, but Dean didn’t care, knowing all his daughter needed was comfort right now. He holds her close, using his body as best as he can to shield his daughter from the pouring rain. “I m-miss him s-so m-much,” she continues to sob, Dean holding her tight.
Dean presses his lips against her wet, blonde hair, before he speaks. “I know, baby girl. I miss him too.”
“H-he’s g-g-gone,” she sobs, her arms wrapped around Dean.
“I know,” Dean whispers, not releasing her. “I know he is.” There’s silence now, the only sounds heard being the rain pounding onto the ground, and Sera’s sobs. She’s clutching to her father as if he’s keeping her alive, because in this moment, maybe he was.
It had taken almost 5 minutes of Dean whispering words of comfort and rocking his daughter back and forth before Sera begins to calm down. These motions bring Dean back to a memory, as he presses his lips against his daughter’s head.
Dean groans, trying to calm is wailing daughter. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart.” He bounces Sera gently, trying to soothe her. “You’re not hungry, you’ve got a clean diaper, what else do you need?” Dean turns when he hears his brother enter the nursery.
“She’s still not sleeping?” Sam asks, speaking loudly so Dean can hear him over the baby.
“Clearly,” Dean mumbles. “I don’t know what she needs.”
“Lemme try?” Sam suggests, walking into the room more.
Dean nods, passing the baby over. “Be my guest.”
Sam takes his niece in his arms, carefully getting her situated. “Hey monkey,” he smiles, speaking softly. “Shh, shh, shh,” he tries, rocking her back and forth slowly. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. What’s wrong, huh?”
Dean backs up, leaning against the wall as he watches his little brother interact with his daughter. “Y’know, kiddo, your dad’s pretty tired. I’m sure you’re tired too. Being a baby is hard work,” Sam chuckles softly, realizing that Sera’s sobs from before had turned into quiet cries. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, monkey. You’ve got me, and you’ve got your dad, and we’ve got you. We’ll always have you, I promise. Even when you get older and don’t want us to, we’ll always have you.” Sam’s slightly surprised when he looks down at his niece, her eyes now shut, and silence in the room. He walks over to her crib, gently laying her down before he covers her with a blanket. “Sweet dreams.” He turns, greeted by his brother who had a huge smirk on his face. Sam rolls his eyes, leaving the nursery.
“Who new the moose could also be a baby whisper?” Dean asks, raising his eyebrows in a teasing manner,
“Shut up,” Sam chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re just jealous that I got her to sleep.”
“No- I- whatever, bitch,” Dean mutters, brushing past his brother.
“Jerk!” Sam calls after him, smiling slightly.
Dean’s drawn from his thoughts by a loud clap of thunder, feeling his daughter flinch slightly, still gripping onto her dad. “You’re shivering, baby girl. Let’s move inside out of the thunderstorm, okay?” He can feel Sera pull away from him, as she stands up. “Get a shower, we’ll talk after?” he asks. She nods, turning as she walks inside the bunker. Dean sits there for a moment, watching her leave, before he stands up himself, following her inside.
Sera walks out of her bedroom, dressed in some sweatpants and a shirt, her hair wet from her shower. She walks into the war room, looking around. “Dad?” she calls, walking into the kitchen now. “Where are you?” She shrugs, heading to the bunker stairs, taking them two at a time. She yanks the door open, noticing her dad leaning against the Impala, his arms crossed, looking up at the sky. The thunderstorm had ceased, as Sera slides her shoes on, shuffling outside.
“Hey,” Sera greets her dad, leaning next to him on the Impala.
“Weird weather, huh?” Dean asks, as he sees Sera nod next to him from his peripheral vision.
“Dad,” Sera starts, as Dean shifts his eyes to her. “I’m sorry I blamed you for uncle Sammy dying. I’m sorry for hitting you and blocking you out, I-”
Dean cuts her off, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I forgive you, and I’m sorry too.” She leans her head on her dad’s shoulder, Dean leaning down and planting a kiss on her head. “But the drinking, the curfew breaking, the sneaking out- it’s all gotta stop, you understand me?”
“You knew about the sneaking out? How?” Sera asks, sitting up as she looks at her dad, her green eyes meeting his.
Dean smirks, placing his hand on the side of his daughter’s face. “I’m your dad, I know everything.”
Sera laughs, looking down briefly, before she looks back up. She’s met by her dad’s soft eyes, a gentle smile on his face.
Dean’s felt peace before.
He felt it after burning his dads bones. He felt it after burning Bobby’s bones. He felt it after burning Charlie’s bones.
He’s never felt peace like this. Peace with the fact Sam was dead. Peace with his daughter.
Peace with himself.
#dean x daughter#dean winchester#sam winchester#spn#supernatural#challengefic#thing-you-do-with-that-thing#beautifulwordschallenge
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Safe and Sound
Pairing: Gabriel x Reader
Warnings/Tags: Angst, Lots of Angst
Word Count: 1763
Song: Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift
I remember tears streaming down your face
When I said I'll never let you go
When all those shadows
Almost killed your light
You blinked slowly, your hands reaching up to rub the sleep from your eyes. Your body protested as you sat up. Sleeping in the car hadn’t been the best decision, but it had been a grueling hunt, and you had passed out the minute you had reclined your seat. You looked around groggily trying to figure out what had woken you up.
You jumped slightly as your phone in the cupholder next to you vibrated once again. You groaned, shutting your eyes and collapsing back onto your seat. There was really only one group of people who would be calling you this late, and if they were calling you, it meant you wouldn’t be going back to sleep.
Sure enough, Sam Winchesters name lit up your phone screen. Three missed calls. All within the last hour. Dammit. You had seen them only two days ago with a promise to let you know when they had all the spell ingredients and you very much doubted that they had managed that yet.
Crossing your arms, you watched stubbornly as your phone continued to vibrate before finally going silent. One minute passed. Then two. You were drifting off again when your phone lit up and began its merciless vibrating again. Swearing under your breath, you snatched it up and answered it.
“It’s one in the morning, what the fuck do you want.”
“Y/N” Sam’s voice sounded…odd. Controlled. Cautious. “I’m sorry, I know its late-it’s just-I-he…” There was a long pause as if he was unsure of what to say. By this point you had finally started to wake up and with that came a growing sense of dread.
“Sam, what’s wrong? Who’s dead?”
“No, nobody’s dead” Sam assured you. “It’s just…you need to come to the bunker, Cas is on his way.”
“Sam, what’s going on?” You asked, frustration growing. The line was silent. “Dammit Winchester, I need you to tell me what the fuck’s going on before I just drop everything and come rushing over.”
“It’ll be easier to explain when you’re here, Y/N-”
“Tell. Me.”
“It's him,” Sam said after a long pause. “It’s Gabriel.”
Gabriel
The first time you had heard his name, his real name, was in an old, cracked hotel room spoken by Dean Winchester.
Gabriel. Messenger of God. The Runaway Angel who fled Heaven because he cared too much. Who had left all the fighting behind him. You had dragged him right back into it.
And now he was dead.
You wanted to hate the Winchesters. You wanted to scream, make them understand how important He was, to yell that if they had just not made catastrophically stupid world-fucking up choices that He would still be alive.
But deep down you knew that Sam and Dean were just pawns in the great game called destiny, and right now they were the only things between us and the apocalypse.
Sam slid a disk over to you. “Gabriel wanted you to have this,” he said, and then the two men left the room.
Struggling to hold back tears, you put the disk in your laptop. There was no flashy entrance in this one, no casa erotica, no pornstach. Just Locke…Gabriel smiling sadly.
“Heya, Sweetheart. If your hearing this…I’m dead.” You shut your eyes feeling hot tears spill down your cheeks.
“By now I’m sure Thing One and Two have already spilled the beans. Surprise!” You could hear the forced cheeriness in his voice, “I’m an angel-archangel if you wanna get technical. You may know me as Gabriel” He smirked and bowed dramatically, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
You snorted. “Oh, please.” You said quietly “The pleasure is all mine…Gabriel”
“You were right, you know,” Gabriel said “It can be stopped, Michael, Lucifer, the whole enchilada. Unlikely but possible”
He raised an eyebrow and gave you a look “Now this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you to stay out of it, to stay safe, but you and I both know that’s not going to happen. Just…make sure you stay alive.”
“Sugar, what happened was not your fault and I’m sorry it ended this way. Just…just know that I love you and that you made me happier than I’ve been in a very long time.” His hand brushed the camera as if trying to reach through to you.
“Love you Y/N”
And then he was gone, leaving nothing behind but a black screen, and an aching emptiness.
I remember you said
Don't leave me here alone
But all that's dead and gone and passed
Tonight
“Sam!” You shot down the bunker stairs almost tripping as you went. “Dean! Cas!” No response. Without slowing, you began to check room by room. Nobody in the kitchen, war room was empty. Upon entering the library, you came to a screeching halt. At the far end of the room was a very familiar rip in the fabric of reality, and around it a circle of holy flame glowed, keeping any angels from crossing over.
You stared at it for a second, before turning to continue your search, only to collide with Sam. You were sent sprawling.
“Y/N-”
“Where is he?”
Sam hesitated “Y/N, Gabriel-he’s not…he’s pretty bad”
“Where is he?”
“Down this way-we got him a room.” You followed Sam down the hallway. Sam had explained over the phone all they knew about what had happened to Gabriel: Faking his death, fooling Lucifer, Heaven, Hell, and all in-between, Monte Carlo and then sometime after that being taken captive by Asmodeus.
You weren’t really sure how to feel about it.
Sam opened the door to reveal Gabriel sitting curled up on the bed, staring vacantly ahead. It was clear that he had been washed and was wearing new clothes (most likely Deans) but his face was covered in cuts and scars, his hands were trembling slightly, and he stared straight ahead his eyes would flick every so often to Sam, and to Cas-who standing by the bed and then to you. Probably wishful thinking, but you thought his gaze lingered on you for just a few seconds longer.
“He won’t take his Grace,” Cas said, looking tired and stressed. “He won’t eat food either” You arched the bed, reaching out tentatively, but Gabriel flinched backward. Something cracked inside you right then and hot tears blurred your vision. You stepped back and you felt Cas’s hand on your back as he guided you out of the room.
Once outside, Cas pulled you into a hug, and you wept. “He’s alive Y/N” he whispered in your ear. “Gabriel lives and we will save him”
“May I join you?”
You looked up from the book that you had been reading, startled out of your daze. Castiel stood awkwardly in your bedroom doorway, gazing at you with uncertainty.
“Um, of course, “you said, shutting and setting the book on the stand next to your bed. Castiel shuffled into the room, and there were a few awkward minutes of silence.
“You’re welcome to sit,” you said gesturing to your bed and Castiel nodded before settling on the edge. More silence. You had never really spoken to the angel before today and had no idea what he wanted.
“Dean tells me you knew Gabriel”
Oh.
“Yeah,” You said, blinking back tears. “Yeah we were very close”
Castiel nodded. “I am sorry for your loss,” he said softly
You nodded in thanks “You too” You said thickly “You must miss him too, he was your brother.”
“Yes,” Castiel said quietly “Losing him once was hard, to find out he was alive all along and then to lose him for good is…very painful.” The angel shifted apprehensively on the bed before continuing. “My memories of Gabriel are from eons ago and I know that time changed him.” His gaze darted up to meet yours. “I was wondering…if it's not too painful or private, tell me about him?”
“Tell you about Gabriel?”
Castiel nodded. “I can share my memories of him in Heaven as well. I thought it might help… heal.”
You gave a small smile “I think I would like that very much.”
Don't you dare look out your window,
Darling everything's on fire
The war outside our door keeps raging on
You stared at the cup of tea in front of you, as it grew colder and colder. You were working up the nerve to go back into Gabriel’s room, when Sam walked in, distressed.
“Gabriel took his Grace”
You stood so fast, the chair fell over. “He did? How is-”
“Asmodeus is coming,” Sam said, cutting you off.
You blanched “What”
Sam rubbed his forehead “Something about Asmodeus and Gabriel being connected through Gabriel’s Grace. He knows Gabriel’s here and If we don’t give him up in ten minutes, he’s going to try to take him by force.”
“The warding is up right?”
“Yeah, but against a Prince of Hell jumped up on Archangel Grace, who knows if it will hold.”
At that moment the lights went out, replaced by a red glow and alarms began to blare. You and Sam exchanged a look and took off down the hallway, almost running into Cas on your way. The three of you made your way to the war room, angel blades at the ready.
Suddenly you heard Sam cry out, and you turned to face him, only to be grabbed from behind by a demon. You struggled in its grasp and could feel it laugh. It’s grip suddenly loosened on you and its body collapsed to the floor, eyes burnt out. You nodded at Castiel in thanks, before you were all slammed against the opposite wall.
Head throbbing with pain, you could vaguely hear Asmodeus talking. “I’ve come to claim what’s mine.”
“Fuck you” you muttered struggling against invisible bonds. A door opened and two more demons came in, with Gabriel between them.
“Nonononono,” You said, desperately trying to free yourself. You could hear Asmodeus talking to Gabriel and the Angel’s distressed noises as they took him up the stairs.
Then Asmodeus turned back to the three of you, and agonizing pain flared in your stomach and chest and you doubled over, crying out.
Distantly you heard thuds, and the pain diminished somewhat as Asmodeus turned to face the angel once again.
“I broke you” Asmodeus snarled “You’re too weak”
Grace flared in Gabriel’s eyes and his face was suddenly smooth and healed. The air became electrified and you could see the shadows of the Archangels wings. Asmodeus lashed out at Gabriel but he knocked the blow aside. “Not anymore”
The demon began to smoke, before flames engulfed him, the heat stinging your eyes. Once he was gone your eyes locked with Gabriel’s. His gaze was apologetic and pleading, and then with the rustle of wings he had vanished
Just close your eyes, the sun is going down
You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now
Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound
Gabriel: @luciferseclipse @hankypranky
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Bringing Up the Past (Part 2)
A/N: Part two kind of took on a mind of its own… Part two is a part of Kas’ 2.5K Follower Writing Challenge! Congratulations on 2.5k @@kas-not-cas !! The prompt I chose was “ I am way too sober for this.” I was planning on releasing it earlier, but the I remembered that Angst Appreciation Day was coming up so I decided to wait until then. So... Happy Angst Appreciation Day everyone!
Honestly, this is one of the most descriptive and emotional things I’ve ever written. Though I suck at writing romantic stuff and comforting people, but I’m trying to improve. Also if I left something out in the warnings, please send me an ask so I can add it. Now, onto the apologies :P. Sorry for anything I got wrong. Sorry if Sam is too OOC. Sorry if I dragged on with the reader and that the reader’s past is longer than Sam’s. Sorry that I went into so much detail. And like before I’m sorry in general :P Don’t like, don’t read.
IN ALL SERIOUSNESS, I GET PRETTY DEPRESSING IN THIS PART. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. GUYS PLEASE IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY ANY OF THE WARNINGS, EITHER SKIP TO THE END WITH THE FLUFF OR DON’T READ IT AT ALL. I HONESTLY PREFER IF YOU DON’T READ IT ALL IF SO. IT’S COMPLETELY FINE WITH ME. I MIGHT BE GOING OVERBOARD WITH ALL THE WARNINGS AND STUFF, BUT SERIOUSLY I DON’T CARE I WANT TO MAKE SURE. Sorry if you’re being annoyed with all the stuff and stuff. Your mental health is important. You are important. The U.S. suicide hotline is 1-800-273-8255. And if you ever need to talk to someone, you can talk to me or go on this website https://www.imalive.org/ . You got this. Remember to always keep fighting. Love y’all.
Summary: After running from Sam, you think about your past. Sam confronts you again and you decide that it’s your turn to talk. Now it’s Sam’s turn to comfort you.
Ship: Sam x Reader
Warnings: ANGST, kinda graphic talk of depression, graphic talks of self-harm, suicide and attempted suicide, death (not the reader), self-hatred, graphic details of self-harm, description of self-harm scars, really negative thoughts, un-betaed, possible OOCness of characters, swearing, and (poor attempt at) fluff
Words: 5,710
Part 1
Tears blurred your vision as you ran past Sam. You wanted to go to your room, but you knew that Sam was more likely to check there first. So you knew that there were several other places you could go, but Dean was in the war room. If you wanted to go to some of your spots, you had to bypass Dean first. Hopefully, he was too busy trying to find anything on the Darkness or Cas to pay attention.
As you got closer to the war room, you wiped your eyes and slowed down. Peeking around the corner, you saw Dean engrossed on whatever he was doing. You slowly walked past Dean and prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn’t really notice you.
“So you finally decided to leave the kitchen huh?” Well, fuck. Of course he noticed. Taking a quick glance at him, you saw that his eyes looked up from the laptop to look at you. You nodded, hoping that he wouldn’t notice your red eyes.
You cleared your throat. “Yeah, just gonna walk around the bunker for awhile. Explore it some more. There might still be some rooms that haven’t been explored, y’know?”
“Uh huh, you sure you’re okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
And with that, you kept walking. Finally, you reached the electrical room. You were pretty sure that out of all of your spots in the bunker, this place was the last on Sam’s list. Hell, you didn’t even know if either of them knew you hung out in here sometimes. Opening and closing the door behind you, you thanked God that Dean had fixed the door after he destroyed it. Walking to the back of one of the machines, you grabbed the things you kept hidden: a bottle of whiskey and a lighter. Usually, whenever you were on a hunt, the lighter would be in your pocket; any other time, the lighter was here.
After the Demon Dean incident, Sam and Dean didn’t really come into this room, but you did. It was kind of comforting to be in here. You didn’t know why, but it was. So it became one of your favourite spots to be at. Especially if you didn’t really want either of the guys to bother you. Walking back to the door, you put your back to the door and sank to the floor. You stared at the bottle of whiskey in your hand; wondering if you should drink, but you had been drinking a couple beers while you had been making the pie. You set the whiskey down and lifted your hand to look at the lighter. Snick. You stared at the flame that flickered to life before releasing your thumb, watching as the flame disappeared.
Thoughts swirled in your mind. The kind of thoughts that made you not want to do anything or get out of bed, for fear of more of those kind of thoughts. Most of the time, you were kept distracted by your job as a hunter (or anything really) to focus on such thoughts anymore or you tuned them out. But after this hunt, you couldn’t really ignore them. So you did the next best thing: you baked and baked and baked. Until Sam came and brought it up. You had hoped that he was too distracted to catch your little slip up, but to no avail. You had nothing to distract you now from the thoughts that had been growing louder and louder since Madilyn.
You stared at the lighter in your hands as they whispered, It’s your fault. You could have saved her and her family. You should have been better. You should have been smarter. You failed. Just like you failed to save him all those years ago. You’re a failure. You don’t deserve to live after what you did. You should have done better. You hit your head with your hands. No no no no. You are not gonna listen to what they say. It isn’t true. I tried. I tried with everything I had you thought to yourself convincingly.
Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice someone lightly knocking on the door. It was only when they started pounding that you realized. They found you.
“Go away!” you shouted.
“Y/N, I just want to talk.”
Oh, so it seems like Sam did know this hiding spot. You turned your head to look at the door. You didn’t want to talk to Sam right now. You really don’t. But knowing him, he’ll just bring it up again later. However, this is something you never wanted to talk about. No matter how many years had passed since the events, you never wanted to talk about them.
“Y/N, please.”
“No! Just leave me alone,” you said frustratingly. You heard Sam sigh through the wood before walking away. You waited for a few minutes before getting up and opening the door. No one was there. You closed the door again and sank to the floor, you’ll come out of the room later. Snick. The flame flickered to life again as you tried to think of anything to distract yourself from the thoughts and memories of the past.
A Week Later…
You slowly came back to consciousness after taking a brief nap, when you felt someone watching you. Grabbing your gun from your bedside table, you pointed it at the the person, to find Sam sitting on the chair by your desk. Shit, you forgot to lock your door. Putting the gun back on the bedside table, you decided to try for humour.
“Really, Sam? Watching someone while they sleep? That’s creepy, even for you,” you joked. Sam still had a serious look on his face. You swallowed a lump in your throat. Getting up, you walked to the kitchen, rambling as you went.
“Y/N, you’ve been avoiding me for the past week, you’re sleeping in your room again which you haven’t done since we started dating, please can we just talk about it?” Sam pleaded as he followed you.
“So how long did I sleep? Dean back yet from the bar? Think he brought any food home? I’m starving. Are there still some leftovers in the fridge?” you continued walking as you avoided answering. Reaching the kitchen, you opened the fridge to find leftovers and two six-packs of beer.
“Y/N, we need to talk about-”
“There’s nothing to talk about!” you screamed as you slammed the fridge door shut with a loud thud. You turned to face Sam, chest heaving. He looked a little surprised at your scream, but didn’t move from his position in front of the doorway.
“There is nothing to talk about,” you said, your breath getting heavy. Some memories were coming back and so were the thoughts. You hugged yourself, looking down at the floor, as more thoughts and more memories flooded your brain. Your eyes started to well up with tears.
“There is nothing to talk about,” you repeated. Tears started to fall, as Sam slowly approached you. Your breathing got even heavier as more tears started to fall. Your chest rose and fell quickly as you tried to control your breathing and stop yourself from sobbing. You tried to wipe the tears from your eyes, but more kept coming. Sam cautiously wrapped his arms around you. You didn’t try to break from his grip and you stayed in that position for a few minutes until you gave up on trying to calm down. Tears kept falling as you started to sob, releasing over a week of pent up emotions. Sam’s arms tightened his grasp on you as you kept sobbing.
After what felt like an eternity, you stopped crying and began to calm down. Sam slowly released you from his arms and you moved to sit down at the table. He moved to sit down across from you as you gathered your thoughts. Tugging at your hoodie sleeves, you thought about what to say, but he spoke first.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed the issue. If you don’t want to talk about it, then I’ll wait ‘til you are ready to talk about. If you want to talk about it.” You don’t want to talk about it. Ever. However, you looked at him, remembering when he trusted you to talk to you about Madison and his issues. If Sam can talk about his past with you, then maybe you can talk about your past with him.
“No it’s fine, I shouldn’t have pushed you away like I did. I think… I think I want to talk about it,” you said softly.
“Are you sure?” Sam asked, surprised.
“Yeah… I’m sure,” you said a little louder. You paused, not sure where to begin. Sam waited patiently as you decided where to begin. You didn’t talk about your past and your family often, mostly because it brought up some painful memories. You told the Winchesters that your parents were former hunters and that you had three siblings. You told them that out of the three, only two were still alive. You told them that your parents raised you to know about the supernatural, but didn’t take you on hunts unless you really wanted to. You told them that your parents taught all of you to shoot a gun and defend yourselves. And that was about it.
“I guess I should start from when I was little. I already told you that I was the youngest of four kids, but I never really talked about what it was like, even though you’re the youngest too. It was… a little difficult. Having to constantly prove myself to my parents and trying to surpass my siblings. Marc was a sports star, Alli was a genius, Brian was a prodigy, and I was… nothing special. I tried out for sports but I wasn’t very good at them. Studied hard in school, but only got As and Bs unlike my sister. Brian tried to help me with painting and tried to get me to play an instrument, but I never got as good as he did. I was closer to him than I was with Marc and Alli. He was my favourite,” you confided.
“Why did you say you were nothing special? You are definitely someone special,” Sam frowned at you. You looked disbelievingly at him.
“You’re great at baking and you’re a great hunter. Plenty special to me,” he grinned. You gave him a small smile back.
“Not to my parents. I mean they loved me and all, but they pushed me to be like my siblings and when I couldn’t be, they were disappointed in me.. Though they never really showed it in front of me, I knew. Brian was there when I would cry about it. He was the best big brother; with no offense to Marc because he was great too, but Brian was always there for me. And I tried to be there for him…” you trailed off. You opened your mouth to continue and closed it again. Sam looked concernedly at you, before you stood up from the table and walked to the fridge.
“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked. You opened up the fridge and grabbed the six-packs. Kicking the fridge closed, you walked back to the table, and set the packs down.
“I am way too sober for this,” you replied, sitting down again and grabbing a beer. You grabbed another one and offered it to Sam, who took it. You both opened your bottles and as Sam took a sip, you took a big gulp. Sam stared at you as you finished that bottle and the second bottle.
“This isn’t enough. I’ll be back,” you called, before going to get your bottle of whiskey from the electrical room. You grabbed it and walked back to the kitchen. When you got back, Sam was still sitting where you left him, sipping his beer.
Sitting back down, you opened the bottle of whiskey and took a long sip of it, feeling the burn in your throat. Setting the bottle down, you stared at it for a second before continuing.
“I tried to be there for him. I tried. I was 11 and he was 13 when I noticed that his playing and his paintings got a little sadder. I asked him about it and he just said that he was just a little sad and that it would pass over soon enough. But it didn’t, they just got sadder and sadder. I tried to cheer him up in every way I knew how, I tried talking to our parents about it, but they said that it was just him being a teenager and that it would pass. I tried talking to Marc and Alli but they were too busy with their stuff to really pay attention. I tried to get him to talk to me but he just shut himself off. I tried everything, but he just shut me out,” you sniffed, your eyes misting again. Taking another long sip of the whiskey, you calmed yourself.
“At some point, he wouldn’t let me into his room, which never happened. Ever. I was the only person he allowed in no matter what. But then one day, I asked if I could come in and he said no. I kept trying to help him and I kept trying to be there for him. But two days from his 15th birthday…” you choked. Tears started to blur your vision again as you wiped them away with your sleeve. Sam looked at you with sad eyes, but you didn’t look back.
“He was taking a bath and I was gonna go next right? He was taking too long so I knocked on the door, but he didn’t answer. I knocked again, but he still didn’t answer. At this point, I was worried because if he was asleep, then he would’ve woken up by now. But I couldn’t get in because the door was locked. So I grabbed a bobby pin from my room and picked the lock. When I opened the door… God, Sam. There was so much red. The bathtub was practically filled to the brim with red. B-Brian was completely submerged in the red and I-I screamed and just collapsed next to him. I pulled him from the water and I tried to take his pulse but I saw his arms and there were cuts everywhere. But there were two cuts on each of his wrists that were long and vertical and new. I kinda knew what happened but I didn’t care, so I still tried to do CPR like my parents taught me. But I was shaking so much and there was so much red-” you sobbed, burying your head into your hands. Sam stood up from the chair and walked over to your side of the table to bury you in his arms. You moved to drink more of the whiskey.
“You don’t have to tell me the rest, if it’s too hard for you to talk about it. You don’t have to tell me the rest. I’m grateful that you told me at all. Thank you,” Sam murmured in your ear. You sniffed and shook your head.
“No I want to tell you,” you said determinedly.
“But-”
“No, Sam. You told me about what happened to Madison, you told me about what you feel. It’s only right that I tell you the same. Unless you don’t want me to keep going,” you paused.
“No, I want you to keep going. But I’m worried, are you sure you’re okay enough to talk about this?” he questioned. You nodded firmly and continued, wiping away the tears.
“A minute after I screamed and started to do CPR, my parents and my siblings ran upstairs. They saw me and Brian. And they were horrified. Dad tried to pull me away from Brian while Mom called 911. But I didn’t let go, I kept screaming that I had to do something, I had to save him. Alli and Marc were in shock, I think. I don’t remember much of what happened after Dad pulled me away. I don’t really remember what happened a week after too. I just remember a little bit of the funeral. I remember looking into his coffin, it was an open one.. He was wearing a leather jacket, so I didn’t see his arms. After the funeral, later that night, my parents, siblings, and I went to the cemetery. Dug up his coffin and salted and burned him. He deserved to be in peace and not come back as a ghost, or at least that was what my mom said,” you recalled, some tears still making their way down your face.
“I don’t remember anything else,” you took another sip as you felt the whiskey slowly coming into effect. It was getting slightly easier to talk now.
“Maybe you were in shock? Or maybe your mind couldn’t really deal with the trauma so it blanked almost everything out?” Sam suggested.
“I don’t know and I don’t really care.” you shrugged.
“After a couple of months, everyone thought I got my shit together. I was hanging out with friends again, my grades were up, and I looked happy and fine,” you sipped and your shoulders lost some of the tension that was in them. You were getting drunker, you could feel it. You didn’t care, anything to get you through remembering some of the worst years in your life.
“But you weren’t fine,” Sam stated.
“I wasn’t fine,” you confirmed, “I was still a mess. But I didn’t want my family and friends to worry about me any longer than they already were, so I pretended to be fine. Kept my grades up so they wouldn’t be suspicious. Hung out with friends and put on a smile to keep them from worrying. Every now and then, I would let slip something that indicated I wasn’t fine, but they chalked it up to me still mourning. After all, I was closer to him than anyone else. But no one ever pressed or asked if I wanted to talk about it.”
“I was tempted more than once to go to a crossroads and make a deal, but I knew Brian would be mad at me and would probably never forgive me for it,” Sam tensed at the thought of you making a deal, before relaxing.
“How come no one talked to you about it? I mean, you were the first one to see him,” he shook his head, “I’d think that would call for some therapy or at least some talks with someone.”
“My friends thought I was talking to my family about it. My parents were just leaning on each other and burying themselves in work, they kind of forgot about us for awhile. Marc would be at school, practicing until the coach forced him to go home while Allie would be at the library, burying herself in her studies until the library closed. Meaning that I was, for the most part, home alone. Being home alone, made me think. What if I had been more persistent? What if I had gotten someone to listen? What if I had come up earlier? His death was my fault because I didn’t try harder,” you swallowed the last of your whiskey.
“No it-”
“Shut up Sam,” you said lazily, an alcoholic haze starting to clouding your brain.
“I was too pathetic to save him. I didn’t deserve to be alive while he was nothing but ashes. I couldn’t save him, so it was my fault. Or at least that’s what my thoughts were saying. Later on they got worse. You’re a disappointment to your family. You’re too ugly to have anyone like you. You’ll never be enough. Time went on as I got worse. I could barely get out of bed everyday. Eventually, I had no energy to do anything whatsoever.There were just some days where I didn’t even talk because I was just so tired. I was so tired of everything. But I never let anyone else see me like that. I put on fake smiles whenever I was around everyone else. Made it so that no one even suspected that I was the slightest bit sad,” you slurred slightly. You were definitely drunk now.
“The only thing that made the voices stop was when I was taking a razor blade and cutting across my arm. Each cut I’d make, the quieter the voices would be. So I cut and I cut. I didn’t cut so deep at first. They’d bleed slightly and scar over, but then they’d be gone in a week or two. Sometimes they left a darker kinda mark, but not really a scar. At least I don’t think so.
“When everyone started asking why I was wearing hoodies all the time, I just said that I was setting up a trend or something. Made a joke about it. They would laugh and stop questioning it. Everyone thought I was fine, so why would they keep questioning it? So I kept on faking, kept on acting,” you looked down at your sleeve, brushing your hand lightly on the fabric.
“On the night of March 1st, I couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone was smiling and laughing at dinner, my parents had invited a couple of their friends over. They were telling stories and jokes. I excused myself from dinner and went back to my room. I locked my door and snuck out the window. Went down to the bridge that was a little bit out of town. Sat down on the ledge and wondered if I should jump. The fall would have probably injured me, but wouldn’t have killed me; so the water would have.”
“How old were you by now?” Sam asked, almost afraid of the answer. You stared straight at him.
“I was 12. I don’t really know how long I sat there. But I sat there long enough that a group of people noticed me there. They varied from kids about my age at the time to high school students. They talked me down from jumping, though it took awhile. Afterwards, they walked me back to my house. We talked and they said that if I ever wanted to talk, to just find them at this place. I said goodbye and snuck back up to my room. Snuck downstairs to find my family and my parents’ friends still at the dinner table, laughing. They never noticed that I was gone for two hours at least,” you shook your head.
“Eventually, despite the group’s help, the cuts got deeper. They bled more. I filled pages of a sketchbook or two with just my blood. Whenever they healed, they obviously left behind a scar, a horizontal bump on my arm. There were dozens of them on my left forearm and upper arm. A few on my right, but not as much as on my left,” you said, as if you were speaking about the weather. Sam looked horrified at your description.
“Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to go into so much fucking detail. Should I stop? I should probably stop. I’m gonna stop. I should have never fucking talked to you about this,” you said worriedly, the haze leaving your mind at the look on Sam’s face. You stood abruptly to leave, but he grabbed your wrist from across the table. You froze, unsure. Sam walked to your side and pulled you into a fierce hug.
“No, no you should be talking to someone about this. And I’m glad that you chose me,” he murmured into your hair. He let you go and you sat back down in your chair. Instead of going back to his chair across the table, he opted for the chair next to yours. He turned so the chair could be facing you.
“Can I…?” he gestured towards the sleeves and you nodded hesitantly, turning your chair to face his. He slowly rolled up the sleeve of your right arm, until he stopped at the crook of your elbow. On your right forearm were at least 8 scars, a few were slightly thicker than the rest. You watched Sam for his reactions, ready to yank your sleeve down. His face looked hard, not really showing any emotion. He moved to roll up the sleeves of your left arm, but you grabbed his wrist gently.
“You sure you wanna see this arm? It’s a helluva lot worse than the other one,” you warned. He rolled up your left sleeve anyway, exposing the dozens of scars that littered your left forearm; all of them varying in thickness and visibility. However, the one scar that stood out was the one that was almost at the middle of your forearm. It was about 4 inches long, the width of about 2 quarters, and it had little dots on either side of it.
“What…” Sam couldn’t finish. This one was obviously bigger than the rest, this one had needed stitches. Which meant…
“I’ll get to that one eventually,” you replied, not really answering.
“I talked to that group almost everyday and they convinced me to go to Mrs. Lee. Really, she was the mother of one of the people in the group. But she had a degree in psychology. So I talked to her and for the next two years, I was better. That was until I switched schools.”
“Why did you switch schools?” Sam furrowed.
“Because I had an emotional breakdown after school one day. Kinda freaked out my parents, I should count myself lucky that they didn’t really ask questions as to why I wanted to switch. I think they thought it was because I had some of the teachers that Brian talked about and had and it brought up bad memories,” you pondered.
“Either way they let me switch schools without much fuss. By that point I wasn’t seeing Mrs. Lee anymore since she deemed me to be better. A few weeks after I switched schools, I was trying to catch up with all of the work that I had missed. I was so stressed and upset because there was so much work and I could hear my sister arguing with my parents that I just… I grabbed a pair of scissors that I had in my drawer and just sliced at my arm,” you made a slicing motion on your left arm, where the scar was.
“It was deeper than I intended and the blood was coming faster than normal. I just stared at it, kind of going into shock. The blood was dripping down my arm and I passed out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital and my sister was sitting next to me with her eyes red. The rest is sort of a blur, just like when Brian died; the most I remember is that my parents were sending me to a mental institution, rehab, whatever you want to call it. I was sent there when I was 14 and I stayed there until I was deemed better when I was 16. The night after my parents got me, I packed a bag, stole some money from my parents’ wallet, grabbed a few weapons from the basement, and ran away, ” you shifted uncomfortably in your chair and Sam moved his hand from your thigh (when did he place it there?) to hold your left hand.
“I think we should stop,” Sam said cautiously.
“Why? I thought you wanted me to tell you everything,” you said a little sassily.
“Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed it or not, but you started scratching at your left arm a while ago and it’s turning red. And you’re crying again sweetheart,” he said, wiping the tears you just now noticed were falling down your face. You looked down at your arms, your right hand stopped scratching your left arm when he mentioned it. You didn’t even notice.
“I…”
“C’mon, let’s go to our room.” Getting up, the two of you walked to the room. As soon as the two of you entered, he herded you into bed. He changed into his sleep clothes and got into bed with you. Sitting back on the headboard he put your head in the crook of his neck and wrapped his arms around you. You smiled weakly into his neck, this was the exact way you comforted him over a week ago. You reached at Sam’s bedside table for his phone. The time read 2:30 AM.
“How long have I been talking?” you asked incredulously, you could’ve sworn that it had been about 7PM when Dean went to the bar.
“You slept for about five hours. When you woke up it was already a little bit past midnight. We’ve been up talking since.” It was quiet for a couple of minutes, the two of you just enjoying the warmth that the other provided. Lightly tracing your back, Sam spoke again.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“But-” you exclaimed, but he held up a hand before you could say more.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated, “If it wasn’t my fault that Jess, or Kevin, or Madison, or Ellen and Jo died, then it wasn’t your fault that your brother died. You said that you tried everything right? So it wasn’t your fault, because you tried. You tried with everything that you had. And that’s fine. You said you told your parents and that they just brushed you off right?” You nodded slowly.
“Then that makes it partially their fault. Because they should have listened to you. Doesn’t matter that it might have been because he was a teenager, they still should have talked to him. They also shouldn’t have pressured you and your siblings so far,” he said sternly.
“But they didn’t! They loved us! Yeah sure, they pushed all of us more than we wanted to, but they still loved us!” you protested.
“You said that your parents were disappointed in you whenever you weren’t able to reach their standards right?”
“Yeah…”
“Did your siblings ever tell you what they thought of your parents pushing?”
“Yeah… Marc and Alli would argue with them sometimes, because they pushed us so much. They both wanted to be something else.” you remembered the arguments that would lead to shouting matches. More often than not after the argument, you went to your elder siblings while Brian went to your parents.
“What did Brian do?” Sam pushed.
“He never really protested, but I could tell that it was wearing him down too.”
“Therefore, it wasn’t your fault. Your parents only have partial blame, but in the end it wasn’t really anyone’s fault that your brother died. And while you say you were never good enough for anyone. You’re good enough, more than enough to me. To Dean and Cas. You deserve to be here, because if you weren’t here then the people whose lives you’ve saved wouldn’t be here either. You’re beautiful and kind. You’re one helluva hunter and a great baker. You’re smart and great at researching. You’re worth something and I’m never letting you forget that again,” he smiled down at you.
“Promise me something,” he said, tilting your chin up to look at him, “Promise me that anytime you get any kind of negative thoughts again, you think about hurting yourself again, you come talk to me. Please?”
“I don’t think about cutting anymore.”
“Just promise me?” you sighed.
“I promise, as long as you promise to do the same,” you said firmly.
“I promise,” kissing you on the forehead, he adjusted your position so that he was lying down instead of sitting against the headboard. Impulsively, you pressed your lips to his. Just a simple kiss that spoke volumes. Thank you. I love you. Sam smiled at you and kissed you. I love you too.
A/N: Kinda wanted to write a smut scene in here, but then I saw that I was reaching 12 pages and I have also never written a smut scene before so I decided to not push my luck.
Tagging: @impala-dreamer @idreamofhazel @jared-padaloveme because I think they wanted a part two?
#supernatural#kas' 2.5k dialogue challenge#kas_not_cas#kas' 2.5k follower writing challenge#fanfiction#reader insert#supernatural oneshot#sam x reader#tw suicide#tw self harm#tw cutting#tw depression#tw blood#mine#writing#angst#angst appreciation day#angst day#bringing up the past#angst appreciation day 2017
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