#truly and genuinely WHAT was dean expecting from sam here

[chubbybloodfreak]

hello. I just need to ramble for a moment so bare with me. 

So the scene at the end of 9x13 makes me absolutely insane for so many reasons. Dean’s been super salty ab Sam trying to set a boundary with him after finding out ab the Gadreel situation. He’s trying to convince Sam that he “saved” him by doing what he did. He only see’s the intent of his actions and considers the end result (Sam still being alive) to be a success. I feel like he genuinely doesn’t understand how what he did could be super violating and traumatizing to Sam, which makes me feel insane, but some people really are just wired that way, where they can’t empathize with others feelings. Being around someone like is really invalidating and truly does make you feel like you’re going crazy. 

Anyways,, so he feels that Sam is being unreasonable for wanting to distance himself from him, which he makes really clear. You can tell that Sam is hurt by his trauma being overlooked but is about to just give up on the conversation bc Dean clearly just doesn’t get it.  But he kinda stops himself and comes back full force trying to make Dean understand. But Dean comes back with “you’d do the same thing.” which is just SO FAR from what Sam is trying to say. 

Sam wouldn’t take away someone’s autonomy for his benefit. But Dean doesn’t see it as just his benefit, he sees it as both of their benefit, because he feels he was doing it for Sam just as much as he was doing it for himself. So when Sam says he wouldn’t do the same thing, he views it as Sam saying “I wouldn’t do everything I could to save you. I don’t care as much about you as you do me.” but what he’s REALLY saying is “I would never want to hurt someone as badly as that hurt me. I wouldn’t wouldn’t go against someones wishes when it comes to their bodily autonomy and how/if they want to be “saved”. 

And ofc he keeps getting guilt tripped about his feelings/attitude towards Dean for what happened throughout the season and this plays SUCH a huge part in why he tries so hard to save Dean when he becomes a demon (or whatever the next conflict was that led to what happened to Charlie), because he’s now convinced that’s what Dean wants and expects of him and that it equates to him being a good and caring person. Dean’s convinced him that unless he does absolutely everything he can to help “save” Dean, then he’s a horrible person. GAH!!!! I’m losing my freaking mind over here.

#mine #text #rambling #s8 #s9

[thornedrose44]

Supercorp prompt-

Lena takes an art class to de-stress and Kara is the nude model. Awkward semi- naked flirting ensues.

(A/N: So, I put my own twist on this (hope that’s okay), I made Lena a teacher just because I liked the idea of Lena having to keep her lack of chill under control and be professional in front of a class funny - though this fic went down just a really light, fluffy route which I hadn’t expected when I started it.)

Read on AO3

It had been going well, the first term had passed with only a few missteps and one trip to the emergency room - though, the Dean had told her that Zach had yet to make it through a single class without some sort of accident and had been preemptively banned from taking Chemistry classes for fear of taking out an entire graduation class. 

Lena had never expected to return to her alma mater as a lecturer but the stars had aligned at just the right time. The youngest Luthor had reached a stage in her career where she had finally proven her adoptive mother wrong about not finding success as an artist and had made enough money that she need never paint another picture in her life again. The lack of necessity and the return to a more Luthor-esque lifestyle - galas, fancy balls and paid talks - had subsequently impacted her inspiration. She needed a change. A return to her roots and some sort of stability without losing her ability to make a personal impact with her work. 

Her mentor - J’onn - was stepping down from the art department and had recommended her as his replacement; National City University had jumped at the chance of the world renowned Lena Luthor taking up a teaching position there. 

She was now a third of the way through the school year, settled comfortably into her new role, and absolutely loving it. Her spark was back, and she was enjoying being in one place surrounded by her old friends. She was reconnecting with skills and techniques she hadn’t touched in years whilst simultaneously giving advice and encouragement to students that reminded her of herself when Lillian had cut her off to force her into attending business school and abandoning her dreams. She was finally able to return the kindness J’onn had given her all those years ago to the next generation of artists. 

It was the second term that Lena experienced her first set of real nerves. 

Lena had an artistic weak spot, an achilles heel that she had been able to keep out of her signature artistic style but she would now be forced to confront. 

Life drawing.

It had been her lowest scoring class by a mile and she had avoided the advanced elective classes like the plague. Lena knew practice made perfect but she’d never had enough interest to develop her skills. Her interest had always lied more in natural landscape beauty - J’onn had said her true inspiration lied with trying to recreate her childhood memories of Ireland: emerald rolling hills, rocky cliffs, dense forests ensconced by a mystical fog that lended her artwork a fantastical element that she was now known for.

The problem lied in Lena’s lack of interest in people. 

She had never really seen the ‘art’ in them.

Kelly, Sam and Andrea had spent hours over evening drinks psycho-analysing just why that might be, their two favourite theories were Lena’s family (the loss of her mother and the general unpleasantness of the Luthors) or Lena’s truly terrible dating history (their favourite topic of conversation due to the sheer number of embarrassing stories it elicited).

Lena refused to acknowledge the accuracy of both theories. 

It was therefore with a sense of dread that Lena prepared for the first Life Model Drawing class that Tuesday afternoon. The one small silver lining was that she didn’t need to arrange a model - she had vague memories of J’onn trying to entice volunteers and grumbling under his breath about some of the less than pleasant eager volunteers. J’onn had a list of regular volunteers that he had accrued over the years that were reliable and just liked to help out - most of them older with an appreciation for the arts and more time on their hands than they knew what to do with. The University admin team had organised everything and simply told her to expect a Kara Danvers at the studio some time before the class.

Lena had finished prepping the studio well in advance, reviewed the relevant techniques for most of the morning and even phoned J’onn for a much needed pep talk over lunch. She had just convinced herself that everything might be okay, that she just might be able to do this, when the most beautiful woman Lena had ever laid eyes on burst into the studio.

A toned body that glinted with a light sheen of sweat barely covered by a white v-neck tucked in at the front of a pair of dark jeans that merely brought all of Lena’s attention to the bronze belt buckle that locked away a thousand dirty thoughts. Glorious golden ringlet curls bounced up and down as the woman stumbled to a sudden stop as the most piercing blue eyes imaginable behind thick glasses locked with Lena’s green ones.

“Hi, I’m Kara!” The goddess announced, swallowing thickly and stumbling forward in her hefty black boots as she extended out a hand for Lena to take.

Lena only reached out due to years of Luthor training that had ingrained politeness into her muscle memory - her brain still not firing on all cylinders at the sight of the woman in front of her. Kara’s warm palm connected with Lena’s, long fingers curling gently yet firmly around the edge of her hand and sending arcs of lightning through Lena’s body and causing her breath to stutter. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for me for too long.” Kara continued, a bright apologetic smile lighting up her entire face and grinding whatever gears were still turning Lena’s mind to a dead - permanent - halt. “I try to always get here early to help set-up but the interview I was conducting overran - I’m a journalist, by the way - and then my bike - motorbike that is -” Lena’s mind caught on the motorbike and turned it round over and over and over again, “didn’t start and… I’m rambling. Oh, golly! I mean heck, I mean sorry.” Kara huffed, cheeks filling with air before releasing into an adorable pout. “Sorry.”

It was then that Lena realised two things.

One, it was her turn to say something and there had now been at least ten  prolonged seconds of silence as they stared into each other’s eyes.

And two, they were still holding hands because that’s what it was now, it most definitely could not be considered a handshake.

“Umm… hi…” Lena choked out whilst simultaneously jerking her hand back to her side, hoping the somewhat stifling heat of the studio would hide the red blush perfusing her cheeks.  “Lena. I’m Lena, that is…”

“Hi.” Kara murmured, smiling soft and sweet at her causing Lena’s heart to flip and melt and dance and do a million impossible things all at once.

“Hi.” Lena repeated dumbly - so dumbly.

“I should…” Kara chuckled, hands miming grabbing the edge of her t-shirt and lifting it up, “You know?”

Oh, god the goddess is going to undress, Lena’s brain screamed in gay at herself.

“Yeah, definitely do that.” Lena encouraged with a flap of her hand towards the centre of the studio where a solitary illuminated stool awaited. “Do you need anything? Is the lighting okay? Stool… umm… sturdy?”

Kara grinned at her, blue eyes barely sparing a glance at the studio’s set-up, “Looks perfect.”

“Great.” Lena cheered, jerking her thumb over at her desk in the corner where she had prepped her teaching materials, “I’ll… uh… be over there.”

“And I’ll be right here.” Kara shot back with a cheeky wink as she walked over to the stool, a towel awaiting her to provide suitable covering until the class had settled, shucking her white shirt over her head and revealing back muscles that would star in Lena’s fantasies for the foreseeable future.

“Yep.” Lena popped, taking a deep breath and trying to work out if she should be murmuring a thank you to God or screaming a desperate why me.

***

The class had gone well - except for the long periods where her brain shutdown whenever she studied the play of shadows across Kara’s defined musculature. She managed to cover it quite well by making it seem like she was just assessing her students’ work closely, analysing their line work and shading rather than going through an extended gay crisis that eclipsed seeing boobs for the first time in college.

Kara, on the other hand, was a consummate professional, holding a steady pose throughout and utterly unfazed by the concentrated gazes on her - though, Lena could have sworn that she caught deep blue eyes tracking her movements round the half-circle every now and again. 

“So, you’re experienced doing this?” Lena asked, once the last student had departed and Kara was finishing re-tying her sturdy boots back up.

“Taking my clothes off?” Kara chuckled, shooting the teacher an amused smirk, getting to her feet and strolling easily over to where Lena was examining the product of her class’ efforts. 

Lena faltered, “I meant-”

“I’m just teasing.” Kara reassured, reaching out to squeeze Lena’s forearm in a half-apology that Lena could have sworn burnt Kara’s hand print into her skin, “I’ve done this for a while now. I did an interview with J’onn a few years ago and his model bailed at the last minute and I was here already and…” Kara shrugged casually like stepping in was the obvious thing to do, like kindness was the only option - which Lena didn’t doubt for a second was something Kara genuinely believed. “I like helping out where I can. And I just kept coming back…” Kara explained, clasping her hands behind her back as she took a tentative step closer to Lena, “I was never really sure why until-”

“Hey, babe, you ready to go?” 

Lena’s head snapped round to see Andrea strolling through the doorway, eyes fixed on her phone utterly oblivious to the moment she had just trampled all over. Lena wasn’t sure whether Andrea was naturally such a good cockblock or if she practiced at it - regardless of either option Lena’s sexlife had vanished into thin air since she’d returned to living in the same city as Andrea. (Not that Lena thought that her and Kara were heading that way but Lena had been enjoying the hope of it at least).

“Andrea, you’re early for the first time in.... well, ever…” Lena snarked, rolling her eyes before glancing over to Kara, only to find the blonde had taken a large step away from her and her expression was far more neutral and guarded than it had been only moments before.

“Wait, we weren’t meeting at 4?” Andrea frowned, still not bothering to look up.

“Ah, so you’re not early, you’re over an hour late.” Lena remarked.

“God, you’re such a drama queen…” Andrea sighed, finally lifting her gaze from her phone, her eyes immediately alighting on Kara with undisguised interest. “And who is this?”

“Andrea, this is Kara the model for our life drawing classes.” Lena introduced taking a protective step in front of the blonde, an action that did not go unnoticed by the other two occupants in the room. “Kara, this is my supposed best friend who is regularly trying to lose that title.”

“Oh, best friend?” Kara repeated; the familiar brightness from before returning to her expression as she looked excitedly between the two friends.

“Yes.” Lena answered, smiling shyly at Kara and immediately forgetting Andrea’s existence, let alone presence in the room.

“That’s great.” Kara grinned, blushing a light pink a second later as her hands fidgeted with her keys, “I mean… ummm…. That you have a best friend. My sister is my best friend, though I have other friends. I just mean that… friends are cool.” 

Lena laughed lightly at Kara’s ramble, leaning closer towards the blonde without realising until Andrea appeared at her shoulder looking far too pleased with herself.

“Kara,” Andrea greeted, holding out a hand for the blonde to shake (Lena was comforted to see their handshake was quick, almost professional in comparison to the lingering touch Kara and Lena had shared earlier). “The pleasure is all mine.” Andrea declared, winking surreptitiously at the teacher - Lena instantly dreaded the upcoming girl’s night.

“Nice to meet you.” Kara replied friendly and sincere, before smiling softly at Lena and muttering a hopeful, “I’ll see you next week?” 

“I’ll be here.” Lena reassured, watching as Kara nodded farewell to Andrea and departed, waving on her way out.

“Well…” Andrea murmured mischievously.

“Don’t.” Lena said sharply, holding up a finger to deter whatever torment Andrea had brewing. “Not a word. Not a single word.”

“Ooookay.” Andrea lied.

***

“You okay?” Lena asked tentatively, watching as Kara sluggishly slung her bag over her shoulder the pep to her step nowhere near as present as it had been last week. 

They hadn’t had a chance to talk before the class even though Kara arrived much earlier to help set-up - Lena had been helping a student struggling with deadlines and a sudden crisis of confidence which prevented them from interacting. Despite being occupied, Lena had seen the fatigue weighing heavily on the reporter, saw how her impeccable posture dropped and how her students added weary lines to her expression in their artwork. 

“I think you fell asleep on that stool for ten minutes at some point.” Lena murmured, brow creasing in concern.

“Pfft… what?” Kara reassured with a light-hearted wave of her hand. “Impossible.”

Lena arched an unimpressed eyebrow, “You snore. Quite loudly.”

“Oh…” Kara pouted guiltily, rubbing at the back of her neck, “My sister is going through a rough patch and I stayed up late with her last night.”

Lena’s amusement drained away to be replaced with soft, supportive care, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s doing better.” Kara replied, blue eyes twinkling at Lena’s inquiry that had them both ducking their heads coyly and sharing furtive glances. “I should get going.” Kara coughed out, though she made no move to leave.

“Or…” Lena began hesitantly, heart fluttering in her chest, “we could go for coffee? You should probably have a coffee before driving,” Lena rationalised, nervously stepping back from the blatant romantic line she was toeing, “you know for safety…”

“For safety.” Kara repeated carefully, blue eyes glowing with warmth, “That sounds wonderful.”

***

It didn’t take them long at all to settle into a comfortable routine.

Kara came early to the life model classes, helping set-up the room as they talked about the students' progress and what Lena was going to make the focus of the class. During the class itself, Lena no longer needed to flit as regularly between her students, they had learned the basic techniques enough to practise for themselves, now only requiring light guidance which allowed Lena time to either do some marking or her own art. Kara posed perfectly throughout, though Lena was becoming more and more aware of Kara’s still gaze on her as the weeks passed by. 

After class, it was now custom for them to grab a coffee and go for a long walk around the university campus as they talked about everything and nothing. They would have been building towards a strong friendship if it wasn’t for the lingering touches, blatant flirts, blushes and wandering gazes. 

Lena wasn’t overly sure why they hadn’t crossed that line, made that final move, but she found she didn’t particularly mind the wait. She was convinced that they had both decided that the journey was making the destination all the more desirable.

It became abundantly apparent, though, that Kara thought differently if their conversation after the class midway through the term was anything to go by.

“So do you not like my body?” Kara asked, quick and fearful, eyes looking down at the sketch Lena had done during class of a vase of flowers in the corner rather than of the readily available model.

“What?” Lena muttered in disbelief looking up sharply from her desk to see Kara paling considerably having clearly not intended to ask the question that she had blurted out.

“I… uh…” Kara squeaked, mouth opening and closing rapidly, before lifting her bare wrist up with a jerky motion and whistling in exaggerated surprise, “Wow, look at the time. I’m late for… uh… this thing. Work thing. Interview! That’s a work thing.”

And just like that she was gone - Lena wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a Kara shaped hole in the studio wall with how fast she disappeared - leaving Lena with a sinking, twisty feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she might have lost more than her regular coffee with Kara over that one interaction.

***

Lena had Kara’s phone number and they had taken to texting throughout the day; however, since Kara’s panicked question - which probably revealed some deep vulnerability in the blonde - there had been complete and total radio silence. No memes, no cute animal pics, no sweet check ins… Lena’s phone remained silent when it once vibrated with life. 

Lena wanted to text or call Kara the second she had left the studio but Lena didn’t feel like this was a conversation they could have over text, so she waited impatiently for them to be face to face again, counting down the days until the next class. 

Lena even took to repeatedly checking in with the admin office to confirm that Kara hadn’t pulled out of modelling; reaching the stage where Jess, the most senior admin in the team, had taken to emailing her every couple of hours to reassure her that Kara still hadn’t cancelled. 

When Kara appeared, nervously stepping into the art room, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, it was like Lena could finally breathe easy again. The fear and loss eeking away in an instant, giving Lena the necessary courage to stride forward and bare herself in a way that Kara had been doing every week without Lena fully realising.  

“I don’t like drawing people.” Lena announced, shoving her hands into her pockets to resist the temptation to reach out to the other woman as the blonde blinked at her in surprise, listening intently. “It’s kind of a thing with me.” Lena winced, pushing down all the reasons for why that is. “When I draw something I… kind of let whatever it is into me, let it consume me and it… stays with me for a long time after that. It’s why I draw what I draw. I draw my home because it's a part of me already. Drawing someone means carrying them with me and… that’s scary for me.” Lena breathed, glancing at the blonde to see soft understanding in blue eyes. “I just wanted you to know it’s not you.”

Kara nodded, shuffling closer and dipping her head so that she could whisper into the still space between them, “Thank you.” 

“Right,” Lena murmured, swallowing thickly before jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “I should-”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Kara inquired earnestly causing Lena to freeze in hopeful surprise. “After class, that is?”

“Um… Yes.” Lena replied, nodding her head eagerly.

“Awesome.” Kara grinned brightly.

***

Kara took her to a tucked away italian restaurant that was one of National City’s hidden gems. The food was outstanding and the company was even better.

It wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t just friends going out for dinner either. 

Lena would call it a test-run but that would imply that Lena wasn't already one hundred percent certain that she wanted an actual date with Kara. It was more of a date-appetiser if Lena was going to call it anything, a taste to build interest before the real thing. 

Once they had finished their food, Kara didn’t hesitate to interlace their fingers as they went for an evening stroll around a nearby park, both wishing to prolong their time together.

“Can I see your art?” Kara requested; they had been sitting on a bench in front of a lit-up fountain for the last twenty minutes or so in comfortable silence. Lena had expressed an interest in sketching the fountain and Kara hadn’t hesitated to find them a seat and encourage Lena’s desire without complaint, occupying herself with people-watching in the meantime. 

“I’m pretty sure the images are all over the internet.” Lena replied drolly.

“Yeah, I know it’s just…” Lena’s pencil froze in it’s movements finally noticing how hard Kara was trying to act casual, “what you said about it being a part of you, I thought-”

“You want me to show it to you…” Lena inferred, setting her pencil down and closing her handy sketchbook in an instant. 

“It’s stupid, I’ll-” Kara laughed awkwardly, shaking her head in an attempt to brush over the request like it wasn’t a big deal

“I don’t have many pieces here in National City,” Lena said thoughtfully, getting to her feet and holding out a hand for Kara, “but I have some works in progress that I can show you… if you want that is?”  

“I would love that.” Kara beamed, jumping to her feet as Lena tugged her back towards her campus studio, already picking out her favourite pieces in her mind that she wanted to share with the blonde.

***

Lena and Kara’s ‘friendship’ continued to blossom into something neither could have anticipated that day Kara sprinted into the studio all those weeks ago. The weekly class they shared was now always followed by dinner, taking it in turns to share their favourite cuisines and restaurants. They had also grown beyond only seeing each other on their allotted class day, sharing lunches and movie nights and spontaneous coffees as they learned each other's schedule and needs. 

Lena read all of Kara’s articles and spent many an evening asking countless questions about the background to each of them. Likewise, Kara would appear for coffee with one of Lena’s artworks saved in her phone, burning with curiosity about what had inspired it.

Time spent with Kara flew by and, before Lena knew it, it was the final class prior to spring break. Her last class with Kara until the next school year and Lena was finally ready.

She had finally figured it out.

Why she had waited.

Why she had yet to seize the numerous opportunities to transition her relationship with Kara into a romantic one.

It was because she knew. 

She knew from the second that she had taken Kara’s hand in hers when they first met that this was it. That Kara was it.

And that was, and still is, terrifying. 

When they had first met, Lena hadn’t been ready for Kara. Hadn’t been ready for everything that Kara represented and would come to mean. She had needed the time, the time to lower her guard, to trust and hope. 

And now, she was ready and she knew exactly how to let Kara know.

The class came to an end with Lena giving her students a quick speech on how proud of their progress she was and wishing them a good spring break. Kara lingered behind as was now custom, helping Lena tidy up the area before they headed out together.  

“Kara?” Lena called out nervously, sweaty palms rubbing against her black denim covered thighs as her heart beat thunderously in her chest. “I was wondering…” Lena began, clearing her throat as Kara stopped what she was doing to give Lena her undivided attention. “Can I… can I draw you?”

Kara’s brow instantly furrowed in confusion, “I thought-”

“Yeah…” Lena laughed shyly, staring into deep blue eyes, practically begging for Kara to understand what she was really saying. “Can I?” Lena repeated.

Kara pursed her lips thoughtfully as she studied Lena’s expression - it was then Lena realised that Kara understood exactly why they had been waiting. Kara wasn’t replying because she wanted to check that Lena was sure, was giving Lena a chance to delay, was saying - without really saying it - that she could wait longer.

Lena didn’t take the escape Kara offered, instead she lifted her head higher and arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

A thousand-watt smile of excitement took up residence on Kara’s face as she nodded eagerly, “Of course.” 

“Clothes on.” Lena clarified - she had promised herself that the first time she truly studied Kara’s body it would be in a setting where touching would not break any professional standards. 

***

Lena had Kara sit opposite her in her private studio, their knees pressed tightly against one another providing a warm point of contact to keep them grounded. Lena’s gaze flickered from her sketchpad to Kara’s features; occasionally, she would reach out to adjust a lock of golden hair so it caught the light. Kara, meanwhile, had an ever constant soft smile that didn’t diminish for the entirety of the session even as she was forced to rein in her boundless curiosity to stop herself from sneaking a peek at Lena’s sketch until it was ready to be revealed.

Lena only drew Kara’s head because, though, she had spent countless hours in the presence of Kara’s naked body over the course of the last few weeks - when Lena thought of Kara (really thought about her in the way that made her heart skip), it wasn’t her abs or her biceps that Lena pictured (though she did think about them regularly when she was in her bed alone at night). 

It was Kara’s eyes that Lena thought about most. 

How they were so bright and hopeful whilst simultaneously melancholic and lost.

There were whole galaxies in those blue eyes and Lena knew that she could spend the rest of her life drawing them and never get bored, nor get them exactly right.

“What do you think?” Lena asked, slowly turning her sketchbook round for Kara to see.

It wasn’t finished. It was mere line work that would require further detailing but it was a good start and she hoped Kara could see its potential like she did with everything else in the world - like she did with Lena.

“It’s…” Kara began, licking her lips as she pulled the sketchbook closer to her chest like it was something treasured and infinitely rare. “It's incredible.” Kara breathed, the sincerity of her words undeniable due to how they were accompanied by a watery film to her blue eyes.

“I like your body.” Lena whispered, shattering the companionable silence they had drifted into as Kara admired Lena’s artistry.

“W-w-what?” Kara stammered, head jerking up at the out-of-the-blue declaration.

Lena reached out for the sketchbook, lifting it out of Kara’s hand and placing it on the nearby table so that she could take Kara’s hands in hers. 

“You asked if I liked your body a while ago,” Lena reminded the blonde, “and I just thought you should know that I do. I really, really do. I mean really.” Lena emphasised, glancing appreciatively down at Kara’s body prompting the blonde to blush a pleased pink. “But it's more than just that. It’s become more than that. Talking after class, getting coffee, going for dinner… it's the best part of my week. You’re the best part of my week.”

“Lena-” Kara began, her mouth suddenly snapping shut as her jaw clenched and her chin lifted in determination. Blue eyes studied Lena for a long moment and all Lena could do was hold her breath and wait. 

Lena made Kara wait weeks, she could therefore wait the stretched seconds that Kara needed in return without complaint

Kara got confidently to her feet, tugging Lena up with her, squeezing their hands once before releasing her so that she could reach up to tenderly cup Lena’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Kara declared, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank fu-” Lena sighed gratefully, cut off from offering up her thanks by Kara’s perfect lips sliding over hers.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp prompt

[littlewetbeast]

so this is coming from your tags on a post about s8 and 9. as someone who only joined the fandom after nov 5, I'm always curious about what the fandom was like when the show was airing. can you talk about that a little bit more? maybe elaborate on your tags? thanks a lot <3

i can only really tell you what it was like from my perspective back in the day, and what i can say is that there was SO. MUCH. HYPE. when season 8 was coming out. people were pointing to the source material and going, wait! that shit isn’t just a gay sex joke, that shit is like - textual romance! and that’s what made people begin to argue that this time, it wasn’t bait, but a narrative that they surely wouldn’t drop the ball on. of course, now, in hindsight, we all know spn is the baitiest of bait and supreme trashfire, but at the time it truly did seem like things were headed in a new direction - and we had the textual evidence to back us up on that. i mean, i was there watching it all live throughout season 6, 7 and 8 - most of my close friends watched it, and the destiel tumblr community was on fire by the time season 8 rolled around. i wish i could find some of the old meta posts, but essentially, season 8 truly got so many people thinking that this time, the tides were changing. charlie and kevin were now part of the main cast, and there was undoubtable intent in season 8, not just from cas' side, but from dean's as well. people went bonkers over the aaron scene. this was a time where queerbaiting was at a an all-time high amongst so many popular tv shows, but there was simply no one that went the length that supernatural did. and it wasn’t just the undoubtably gay shit - it was the introduction of kevin and charlie, that incremental effort to include more characters outside of a white, male cast, which bolstered the argument that spn was finally headed in a new direction. i mean, they’d done the same shit over and over for years, surely this was a sign that they knew they had to switch things up. i remember being so genuinely hyped, along with my other queer friends, because we started to believe that perhaps spn truly was going to follow through on this. it was literally all there, in the text! one of dean’s closest friends was a lesbian. dean was in a love triangle with two men. dean got romantically flustered when a gay guy hit on him. dean hallucinated cas and altered his memory to cope with him leaving. dean was on his knees telling cas he needed him, and it broke the connection. there was just so much. anyway. having had that experience, the unfolding of spn’s ending and cas’ confession literally felt like a ‘classic spn’ moment for so many of us. we’d already been burned before by having the naïve expectation that spn could... you know, actually be normal about queer people, and write fulfilling narratives for them. throughout season 9 through 10, a huge amount of things that season 8 set up were undone - kevin was killed, charlie was killed, cas and dean were separated and no homo-ed repeatedly. there wasn’t an outrage that i could see on my dash, but myself and all my close friends just... stopped watching. there were crickets on my dash, maybe a few gifs here and there. the interest completely plummeted. there was a silent deflation and quiet acceptance from those of us that had actually gotten our hopes up that spn really was that show. when i discovered they’d killed off both kevin and charlie, that cemented the knowledge that supernatural was never going to give us what we wanted. i can’t even fully describe how fundamentally that experience changed me, but my attitude towards media and queer representation was completely altered as a result. spn has refused to move with the times, but they had already demonstrated before that they were never going to make that leap. they were in the stranglehold of the network, and the desire to retain their conservative viewership overrode every attempt to move beyond the gun-slinging sam-and-dean bro show.  so yeah, in the end, i have such sympathy for newer fans that got burned so badly by the finale, but as an older fan, i looked at it as it was all unfolding and just went - yup, been there, done that. it’s a classic spn move. i stopped giving credit to those who were throwing out crumbs of representation, when what we actually deserve is to feast. anyway, in summary, spn has expertly burned its queer fanbase for almost a decade. in response, i reject many parts of the canon and simply enjoy the fanon content, because it’s stupid and i do what i want. 

#rosa answers #long post #sorry #know herstory i guess #funnily enough the experience with spn's baiting made watching yuri on ice an incredible experience #queerbaiting is rife in anime as well and i'd also... pretty much stopped anime as well at that point #but made an exception for yuri on ice #i was literally sat there going 'no way they're gonna follow through on this' #and then they DID #anyway. spn fundamentally alters your brain chemistry i guess

[acklesterritory]

That Kind of Love Never Dies_Chapter 1

Hey guys, Now that more voted to split my fictions in 2 parts, I'm back with the first part. I hope you like it. Don't forget to leave me feedbacks. I'll always appreciate them. Love you all.

This is for writing event @tvdspngirl314

My quote is "That kind of love never dies"

Dean x Reader series (just 2 parts)

This chapter words: ~5k

Series warning:

Angst, fluf, smut, angry Dean, hurt Reader, hurt Dean, there's some more but I hate spoilers so I insist on "Angst & Hurt"

It all started with a stupid argument at home. What was it? Three months ago? Sam couldn't remember the exact date but after years, it was the first time this awkward coldness between Dean and Y/n had started to build. He could remember the first time he and his brother came across Y/n like it was yesterday, they were hunting a very nasty creature who used to kidnap young and lonely women at night, then got them wrapped in ropes and ties on a bed in a warehouse to rape, torture and feed on their blood until the victim either died or accepted to turn into one of his kind.

Sam could remember the helplessness in people's eyes too. The pain of the victims' families, the frustration and anger on cops' faces when no one could find the criminal yet, even after the sixth missing girl.

"Sammy, he just kidnapped another girl. And I think I know where he's gonna take her. Let's hunt this son of a bitch."

When Dean was saying that, Sam never expected him to fall in love with the woman they would save that night. Well, unfortunately they weren't fast enough to prevent any harm to the girl. When they arrived and Dean killed the nasty creature, Y/n was almost dead. The monster had already raped her, tortured her … and when he felt the hunters enter the place, he drank almost all of her blood, to gain more energy to fight. So as always, Dean was up to blaming himself. Of course only in his own eyes, not anyone else's.

"Call Cas to come home. Tell him it's an emergency."

Dean told his brother when he finally could get Y/n out of those ropes. And Sam knew he was right. At that point, no one could save Y/n unless God or his angels. Maybe she was not so lucky coming across a nasty supernatural creature like that but she was lucky enough that Cas arrived just on time and healed her. However, angels can only heal physical wounds. But Y/n was hurt much more than that. She couldn't just move on from the things that the bastard had put her through. Even after Cas tricked her brain to forget some certain things, she still had bad nightmares and had this dark shade of hopelessness in her eyes. Soon, she started to eat and talk less and less. And Dean just couldn't let her go. He really wanted to fix all of that for her but she kept shutting him out… until the depression hit her. It was so bad that Cas felt the need to tell them to prepare themselves for her death. Because after all those days and unlike everything else in their lives, The Winchesters were already used to her presence around them; like the way a lonely person can get used to a wounded cat more and faster than anyone else.

"I'm not gonna hunt until I'm sure she can live her normal life." When Dean stated that, Sam really thought he was joking. But after a few days he started to believe it. Dean truly would do anything to keep her alive. From cooking vegetables to laughing at his own dad jokes in front of Y/n to make her smile. That was when Sam started to feel that they can be more than a random hunter/rescued victim relationship! It felt like his brother had finally found his motivation in life: "Saving Y/n."

Gradually Y/n started to respond to this special attention from Dean with trust and smiles. Soon they became a power couple that could motivate each other so easily that sometimes Charlie would call them out. And honestly Sam had no problem with it. In fact Y/n had become his other sister.

"My God, Dean! You're burning up!" It was two day after a werewolf hunt in which Dean had got hurt. At first it was just some scratches on his arms and chest. Yet as the time passed, more symptoms started to appear: headache, pain, fever, cold sweat, even nose bleeding and before they could figure it out, Dean fell unconscious. Apparently the claws of the werewolf were poisonous. However Sam wasn't sure. The only thing he got no doubts about was the fact that it was already too late. Dean couldn't make it to the hospital. So either Sam had to do anything possible to save him or Cas should've picked up his God damn phone.

"No. no, no, no, no. Dean … Dean!!!"

That was when Sam got to hear Y/n's helpless cry and see her true feelings. She was already in love with his brother.

Luckily, unlike typical love stories; no one died that night. Sam's antidote worked. And Dean opened his eyes an hour later.

"Sammy … Y/n?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Y/n grabbed his face and put her thirsty lips on her beloved hunter's, letting the tears stream down on her face… and then his.

"Never do that again." She begged, breaking the kiss, her trembling hands holding Dean's face so she could look into his eyes.

Sam couldn't stop his smile remembering how cute they were. Y/n literally had Dean wrapped around her little finger, to the point he accepted to teach her how to hunt and soon she was part of their team too. Until … a few months ago. After two years of them being constantly close to each other, Sam could tell something was off when Dean started to go out without eating breakfast with Y/n. Of course she got suspicious after the third time and that was when their endless arguments started.

"Why don't you just tell me what's wrong?"

"Because nothing is wrong, Y/n."

Actually there was. Something was VERY wrong. Anyone could tell that just by the change in Dean's eyes whenever he wanted to look at Y/n. Day by day he was getting more quiet and cold. Now they didn't even eat pie together or watch movies late at night. And Sam couldn't ignore his brother being grumpy or drunk on hunts, not anymore.

"Ok man, I've had enough. You either tell me what's wrong with you or next time I won't make any excuses so you can leave Y/n out of our hunt plans. I'm serious, Dean, I'll tell her the truth." He finally said, when they were alone in the impala, on their way to do their next hunt.

"She wants more."

"More?"

"Yeah. Sometimes it's like she sees more in me. She thinks we can have a different life. There's no need for any saying, I can see it in her eyes whenever we accidentally come across some family at a diner that try to feed their kids or people's wedding photos whenever we go to talk with some witnesses or whoever during the research! Sometimes she even looks up wedding dresses or kid stuff on the net!" Dean blew his anger out of his nostrils and sighed, shaking his head.

"Wow." Sam couldn't find the proper word to say but he couldn't hide his surprised face either.

"What?" Dean gave him an annoyed look.

"I mean …" Sam chuckled. "… are you telling me you're actually angry with her for imagining the things you always dream about?!"

"Sam …"

"No, really. I'm just curious. What's wrong with you, man?" Sam asked genuinely, waiting for an answer.

"What's wrong with me?! You think something is wrong with me just because I'm the rational one in this relationship; who's actually able to see the difference between a dream and the reality?"

Yeah, anyone could take that earnest speech, but not Sam. He'd seen and knew enough about his brother.

"What's the reality? Aren't you and Y/N living that dream life already?"

"What?! No. No … that's not the same." Dean shook his head.

"Really? How is it not? It's been two years, Dean. You two are constantly with and/or around each other. Always worried when the other one is in trouble and still looking at one another like there is nothing in the world that can make you happy as much as this relationship. So … excuse me if I won't buy your pretty speech; man ." Sam said, Rolling his eyes.

"Ok, let's say you're right but ... is it gonna be like that forever? With all the supernatural crap that we have to take care of … and the constant danger and chaos in this hunter life we have… I …"

"You what?" Sam asked when Dean didn't finish his sentence. He was lost in his thoughts, staring at this unknown point in the depth of the road. Finally he blew out his despair.

"I just can't let her fall for the things I know I can't provide for her. It's not fair, Sammy. It's not fair to lock her up in this dark life with me just because she loves me … especially while I know there is a whole bright future out there waiting for her."

"Here we go, the old Dean's self-doubt" Sam thought to himself as he took a deep breath before finding the best words to wake his brother up from this nightmare

"Yeah, I know but I don't think it's your call. If Y/n wants to go to hell with you instead of living in heaven with someone else, it's her choice. Not your responsibility. Right?"

Dean shook his head while his lips curved up a little to fake a smile but he never answered or said anything about that conversation ever again. He kept his silence for like three weeks … until someone new showed up: "Gary Smith". A tall man with the most stylish haircut and the most perfect teeth and smile.

They saw him for the first time at their hangout bar, as the new bartender who almost jumped in Y/n's way as soon as they entered the bar.

"Oh my God, bunny! Is this really you?" He said, pulling her in his embrace. Like she was the long time missing piece of his beloved puzzle!

"Bonny? You're wrong. Her name is Y/n." Dean said, pretty annoyed by the way Gary tightened his arms around Y/n's little shoulders, making him chuckle.

"No, uh … it's just a nickname." Y/n said as soon as the guy let her go.

"Yeah, actually the most fitting nickname that I could think of. I mean … you have to agree. She got the most cute little ears in the world." The guy explained, chuckling and pulling on her little star earring. Well, if Sam wanted to be honest, he had to agree with him. He never paid any attention to it before but now that Gary mentioned it, he could tell Y/n's ears were truly small.

"I see … So … I guess this means you were close friends?" Dean said, already hating the way Y/n e's blushed with hearing her old nickname.

"Uh … well, no. Actually more than that." The guy grinned, ruffling his own hair while he was awkwardly laughing and looking at Y/n. Just like a proud embarrassed teen!

"We used to date." Y/n said.

*oh* Sam tried his best not to let that stupid grin sit on his lips but Dean's frown and his sudden heavy silence didn't let him do so.

"Yeah. We are kinda each other's first. Like … you know? prom date." The man added, giving Y/n a wink while Dean's gaze was still locked on his large arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah. It's been years, Gary."

"I know. But believe me, bunny. you still look the same." He said, bending to put a kiss on her right cheek.

Dean would kill him. Sam just knew that. Because his brother's eyes were already burning with jealousy.

"By the way, don't you wanna tell me who these gentlemen are ?" The guy asked Y/n, giving her his softest smile.

"Of course. This is Sam and this is Dean. My colleagues who are my friends now. I live in their place."

After they met, everything got even more complicated. Y/n, the girl who was still trying to get old-happy-days Dean back suddenly stopped whatever she used to do. No more complains, no waiting at nights to see Dean before going to bed, no more effort to get involved in hunts, no nothing. And despite what Dean had claimed before, it was making Dean even more frustrated. Day to day he and Y/n were getting colder towards each other and there was nothing he could do to fix it. That was what made him even more furious. Sam already knew all of that and he still had to live with both of those grumpy faces. So last night when they began to fight, he could see this was coming: Y/n left the bunker after Dean let some hurtful things out of his mouth, just because he didn't know how to deal with all the heartache anymore. He now was convinced that Y/n didn't love him anymore. Yet the next day after drinking whatever strong drink they had, he begged Sam to come with him. Apparently Jodie texted Dean about Y/n being in her place for that night. Just to make sure that her crazy step son won't sell his soul over a tracking spell! So Dean almost begged his brother to be there with him, cause Dean believed that as much as Y/n didn't care about him, she still respected Sam and cared about him. Like a little sister and her elder brother.

So here they were, In Jodie's living room, in front of her and Y/n.

"Considering your sleepy eyes, I think we caught you at bed time, huh?" Sam asked, checking Y/n's obvious eye bags.

"Who says that? I'm totally good, Sam."

She said with a small smile, looking much more in control and stronger than before. So Sam knew it was a lie. Y/n Just had made her peace with what had happened last night. The realization۹ kicked Dean in the gut. Y/n always used to be stronger and bolder when she got hurt.

"I'm gonna make some coffee for us. Why don't you guys take a seat till I come back?"

Jodie interrupted, to ease the heavy and sharp silence that suddenly had fallen over all of them.

Y/n gave her a smile.

"Of course."

It was so fake. Her smile didn't even curl her lips completely. She was still badly hurting.

Sam swore in his head when he looked over his brother who sank silently into the nearest seat at the end of the table like a broken shell that he was too . One of Dean's hands was in the pocket of his jacket, the other formed a fist on the table. Sam was sure Dean knew it too. He knew everything was almost past saving. "Almost". Sam tried to stick to their small chance.

"So …" He cleared his voice before he put some (semi fake) hope into his words."You're … you're gonna come back home today or did Alex and Claire made you promise them otherwise?" He laughed and tried to make it funny but the truth was he asked this for Dean's sake, knowing he already was struggling to find the words … to let Y/n know how much he wanted her back … to ask her to come back.

"To be honest … I don't think I can live in the bunker anymore." Y/n said and as Dean's head snapped up to look at her in horror, she raised her hand to stop his (likely) protests.

"I applied for a job 3 weeks ago and to my surprise they called me this morning to tell me I'd actually got it."

*What?*

No one had to ask it. The question was already hung in the air. She snored mockingly in her nose. "Perfect timing, right?"

She moved her gaze from her interlocked fingers on the table to Dean's eyes.

He didn't answer, he didn't move but he got tense. Still staring back at Y/n.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam asked, once again saving Dean from asking the question he was itching to ask with some other words that for sure couldn't be nice.

"I wanted to but I didn't think I could actually get it and even if I did, I never figured out how to tell you. Besides, I never considered the "move out" option before..." She looked at Sam for a second before she turned her gaze on Dean. "... But I actually appreciate that you bring it up. I think now I can take the advice. I'm gonna move on."

Sam's heart dropped in his stomach when he heard those words. Because he knew what this meant. It felt something like having to watch Dean get stabbed in the heart.

"Is this … because of that Bartender?" Dean asked, staring deadly at Y/n with his bloodshot eyes. He was already chewing on his bottom lip. And Sam knew a heavy storm was on its way to hit them.

"I don't want to answer that question."

*shit*

"Why? Because you can't just simply say no?" Dean scolded and Sam could see how it pushed on Y/n boundaries.

"No. Because it's not your fucking business and it's not Gary's business either. But at least he knows his limits."

*well, fuck*

"By "limits" you mean when he drools on you just because for God knows whatever the reason, you started to wear leather jackets when we go there?"

"WHAT?!"

*Oh, fuck* Sam thought to himself, watching Y/n rise from her seat.

"You think … you really think that I …" she laughed nervously and Sam could tell she would punch Dean in the face if she wasn't a sweet, super nice person.

"How you can even …"

"I can even what, Y/n? Are we now going to pretend like I'm a blind man who can't see how you got attracted to your ex again? Did you really think I couldn't see how your hands were shaking when his filthy face lighted up by seeing you for the first time after all these years?"

Sam wanted to interrupt him or at least leave the room but everything was happening so fast.

"So what? Why and since when you care about my private life?"

"Since you stopped drinking bunker's beers just because you rather drink those crappy poisonous cocktails he makes at the bar!"

Dean was on his feet now as well. And despite his will, Sam couldn't stop his smile. He never saw his brother this jealous before. It was fun.

"Poisonous? … You … of all people, you are the one who says this? cause as much as I know, you're the one who puts dormitives in my guest's food so the poor guy gets tired and can't spend his time with me!"

"Yeah, because your poor guy is not welcomed in MY PLACE!" Dean yelled, punching the table with so much power that made everyone almost jump out of their skins.

"Dean!" Finally Sam interrupted but as soon as he stood up, someone rang the doorbell and Sam could hear Jodie welcoming someone inside.

"Guys … I know it's not my place to interfere but you two really need to sort things out somewhere private … of course that's when both of you can be much calmer than this."

"No, we have nothing to say or to talk about, anymore. Your brother was clear enough when he said he wants me to move out, so I'll move out. And that's it."

Y/n declared, looking at Sam to resist any eye contact with Dean, probably to make him even more crazy.

"And that's it? You wanna ignore that part where you were too eager and ready to accept that suggestion and leave the bunker instantly like your pants were on fire?!"

Dean retorted while Y/n was shaking her head like she couldn't believe him.

"Whose pants are on fire?" Jodie interrupted as soon as she re-entered the room with the coffees she'd made, this time a man was with her. Y/n's guy. The famous bartender.

*Oh, No!*

Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a second so the guy couldn't read his face.

"Obviously not mine." Dean hissed through his teeth, looking first at the guy and then at Y/n with such a disappointment and rage that no one could ignore.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The guy asked, choosing the worst spot to stand on: right next to Y/n.

"My typical life I guess. Nothing's new." She mumbled in reply to him but her eyes were still on Dean.

"No, nothing is wrong with your life, Y/n. It's about your choices. That's what's wrong with you. As always." Dean said bitterly. As sharp as a knife, as cold as ice. Sam could see how it drained color from Y/n's face.

"You better watch your mouth, buddy." The Gary guy warned Dean and Sam could tell that if it wasn't for the sudden thud sound that stole everyone's attention, Dean would throw a fight right there. But …

"Y/n!" Jodie almost screamed. Y/n was laying on the floor, seemingly unconscious.

"Oh, God." Sam said as Jodie rushed to her.

"Y/n? … Y/n can you hear me?"

As she sat next to her, Gary's fingers already were on Y/n's carotid pulse point. So Sam couldn't stop himself from looking up at his brother, who was still standing where he was. In shock.

"Oh, shit!" Gary's worried voice made Sam check Y/n's pale face again but Jodie was the one to dare ask the question which was on everyone's minds.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Her pulse ... too faint." He said before turning to Dean: "Is she bleeding?"

"Bleeding?" Dean blinked and mumbled in confusion.

If it was up to Sam, he'd ask *What bleeding?* & *Why are you asking this from my brother?*

"Oh my. You still don't know. Do you?" Gary sneered.

"Know what? What's happening?" Jodie was freaking out now and Sam actually felt the same. He didn't like the way this stranger pretended like he knew her better than them. However what happened next was much more unexpected. And … rude!

To everyone's surprise, the guy reached out to Y/n's jeans and drew his hand between her legs but before anyone could react, he spread her legs open so it could be possible for everyone to see that big red stain there. Then he raised his hand. It was all wet and red in blood!

"She's having a miscarriage." He revealed.

Sam's gaze instantly caught Dean's ... Burning. Dean was burning inside with his heavy silence.

"Don't you worry. It's not mine." Gary added more fuel to that hell with such a mocking tone, staring right back at Dean's eyes.

Now Sam could feel it. The storm was there: rising in his brother's roar!

Before Sam could've moved any muscles, Gary was already pinned to the wall, Dean's hands on his now-ripped-out collar.

"Dean, no!" Sam jumped in, trying to catch his brother's arm before his fist make any contact with the guy's nose but all he could do was changing the direction of the punch which landed on Gary's shoulder, making a painful cracking sound.

"I said no … Dean, stop it." Sam had to literally cage Dean in his arms so the furious man couldn't tear Gary apart.

"Get off me, Sam. This son of a bitch has to learn his place."

"Enough!" As Dean just broke himself free, Jodie's scream stopped everyone in their tracks.

"It's enough!" Jodie warned all three men, pointing at them one by one.

"You want to fight? Not here. Not in my house!"

"But ..."

As soon as Dean opened his mouth to protest, Jodie cut him:

"And you … you should know Y/n is pregnant with your twins. So … you'll be a responsible man who will try his best to save them or you can get the hell out of here and never come back!"

"What?" Sam was too shocked to suppress his reaction while Dean couldn't even find any words to say. His confused look darted between Jodie's face and Y/n's figure while his parted lips kept moving without making any noise, just like a dying fish on the shore!

"I promised her not to tell anyone but it was a promise under normal conditions, not this." Jodie sighed, struggling to keep her emotions under control. Sam saw the worry in her frown. Like a real mother, worried for her children. However it was nothing in comparison to his brother's blank eyes and pale face.

"Dean, It's ok. We just need to take her to hospital. … it's ok, man. I promise."

He had to grab Dean by his jacket, as his brother was struggling to process all of these in his head.

"Come on, man. We got no time. Do I need to do this alone or you'll …"

"Get the car, Sammy."

It was just a simple sentence. Yet it had enough power to make Sam's heart sank. Since Dean had put the car keys in his hand saying that, Sam couldn't stop thinking about that tone. Dean never had called Baby a "car" In years. And Sam had never heard that crack in his voice since their Dad's death.

"You ok?" He finally let himself ask, two hours after they arrived at the hospital.

"I want to be." Dean closed his eyes and put his head against the cold wall, letting the dim light to darken the shadows under his eyes.

"I'm sure she'll be good. She's strong, Dean. You know that."

He smiled and Sam looked away not to watch him. He knew that smile. Dean used to give him that, whenever everything was gone so wrong that Dean couldn't promise him anything good. Like when both of them were still kids. Hungry, cold and all alone in a rusty motel room where John had left them on their own for a one day long hunt but then a heavy snow had crashed the roads and kept them apart for half a week. So Dean had to wash the dishes and do the laundry in the motel to rent the room for another day and provide some snacks so they wouldn't starve to death. But after three days, the hotel managers didn't want them to be around. And Sam could vividly remember that smile on his brother's face when he asked: *Where should we go then?*

"You were always such a father material. You know?"

Sam admitted with a broken smile on his face.

"You were always responsible, kind and caring with me as a kid. And I can't imagine anyone who deserves to be a father more than you."

Dean took a deep breath and opened his eyes without looking at him: "But I don't want ... I really can't, Sammy."

All, it certainly wasn't the response Sam had expected. He used to believe that Dean would never turn down any chance to start a family with Y/n. Especially after everything in the world was back to normal.

"Are you kidding me? You always wanted this."

"No …" Dean finally turned his gaze to meet his brother's confused eyes. "No, Sammy. Not like this. I don't want to raise another kid without his mom. I'm not that strong anymore."

Dang. Once again Sam's heart dropped in his stomach. Dean was really helpless.

"Mr. Winchester?"

Dean was on his feet as Sam just realized the doctor's presence.

"It's me."

Sam prayed for any good news as doctor took a glance of Dean and fixed his glasses on his face …

"To be continued …"

READ CHAPTER 2 HERE

tag list:

@jay-and-dean @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278

The next and also ultimate chapter will post on Sunday, April 25. Thanks for reading.

Feedback are always appreciated.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x ofc #dean x you #dean winchester #allyswritingevent #Acklesterritory #dean winchester x ofc #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you

[rainbow-shine]

i'll never wear your broken crown, but in this twilight our choices seal our fate

An alternative s4 in where Dean has powers and that changes everything and nothing. Dedicated to @wormstacheangel and inspired by this headcanon.

It started with little things.

So little that Sam wouldn't have noticed them had it not been for the fact that he couldn't help but look at his brother like a hawk lately, partly to comfort himself that he had Dean back and partly to make sure his brother wouldn't find out about his extracurricular activities.

Dean doesn’t gets hurt anymore.

Sam felt his heart stop inside his chest when he entered the kitchen at Bobby's house and found Victor's ghost with his hand embedded in Dean's chest. With a swift movement Sam fired, the ghost disappeared and Dean fell to the ground.

Completely unharmed.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked either way. Dean gave him an unimpressed look before saying no.

The thing was, Sam had seen Olivia's corpse, had seen the corpses of the rest of the hunters. Right now Dean should be bleeding to death on the floor, his heart ripped from his chest, but instead he was just catching his breath like he'd just taken a good hit.

Sam, at that time, thought it was a fluke.

But it kept happening.

They had a dangerous job and the threat of the apocalypse only made the monsters worse, but Dean was always unharmed. Not a single mark stained his body and the times something or someone managed to hurt him, those wounds always disappeared in less than a day.

"You test him, right?" Sam whispered to Bobby, as soon as Dean went to buy something for dinner and Sam stayed with the excuse of researching something on a new book.

"Who?"

"Dean," Sam clarified. “After he was resurrected”.

"Of course I test him, Sam," Bobby hissed. “Do you think I'm stupid?”

"No, it's just…" Sam stopped speaking, realizing that his arguments at the moment would sound more like conspiracies. The fact that Dean was apparently untouchable wasn't exactly a bad thing.

"What?" Bobby asked sharply.

"Nothing," Sam replied, quickly coming up with an excuse. “It's just that I feel like there's something different about him”.

"Sam, your brother just came back from hell. Literal hell,” Bobby exclaimed slightly condescending. “His mind is trying to process a trauma that, as far as I know, no one has ever experienced. You can't expect him to be the same as before, because he won't be”.

"I know, Bobby."

"Then stop complaining".

So Sam stopped. After all, Dean was still Dean and the fact that nothing could hurt him was just one more reason for Sam to do everything he could so that nothing that could reach him.

•●•

The first time Dean went to sleep after being rescued from hell, in the uncomfortable but familiar couch in Bobby's house, he dreamed of a light.

A light so bright that he felt it might be able to melt his eyes out of his sockets, but at the same time it was warming a part of him that always seemed to be cold.

A light that was comforting and gentle. A light that meant love and salvation.

That night, in an abandoned barn in Illinois, Dean knew that he hadn't been dreaming at all.

•●•

When he was a kid and dad decided to start taking Dean on hunts, Sam used to kneel by his bedside and pray that god would keep his brother safe.

After Jess appeared nailed to the ceiling and their apartment was consumed by flames, Sam began to pray for forgiveness.

The day Dean was dragged to hell Sam stopped praying, because he knew that no one was listening to him.

But then Dean was saved. Dean was saved by an angel and Sam felt his faith restored. How he couldn’t have faith when an angel had achieved what he had been trying to do for months?

But apparently Sam Winchester couldn't have good things, because again his faith was destroyed and the angels, as Dean had said, were nothing more than dicks with wings.

The boy with the demon blood.

The curse Azazel left on him and the only chance they had to truly stop Lilith.

There was fear in Dean's eyes.

And that hurt so much more than anything the angels could have told him.

His powers were a curse, but he had stopped Samhain thanks to them. They may not have saved the seal, but an entire city was beginning their day with nothing to worry about thanks to them.

Sam was doing the right thing. He truly was.

It didn't matter that no one seemed to agree with him.

•●•

"Let me guess, you're here for the ‘I told you so’" Dean said, turning on the bench to look at the angel sitting next to him.

“No”.

“Well, good, cause I’m really not that interested”.

"I am not here to judge you, Dean." The angel's voice was surprisingly gentle and Dean tried to ignore the way the light from his halo suddenly looked alluring. Dean hadn't told anyone, not even Sam, what he could see.

Because Dean still wasn't entirely convinced that he hadn't gone crazy.

Big black wings curved slightly around both of them as they chatted and Dean, for a moment, stopped seeing Castiel, the righteous angel of the lord and only saw Cas, someone who looked as lost as Dean felt.

"I don't envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean," Cas whispered. “I truly don’t”.

Then Cas leaned into him and Dean felt his mind short circuit for a second, because the angel clearly seemed to want a kiss. But no, Cas stopped an inch from touching his lips, simply watching him simultaneously with the blue eyes of his vessel and with the hundreds of curious eyes of his true form.

“What…?” Dean's question was interrupted by something coming from Cas' lips and colliding with his. Dean instinctively parted his lips and allowed Cas to give him whatever he wanted.

It wasn't liquid, but it wasn't a gas either. It was tasteless and Dean didn't feel it pass down his throat or vanish in his mouth. His heart raced and he felt… safe. Blessed.

As soon as it started it was over and by the time Dean managed to control his heartbeat, Cas had vanished and no one seemed to have witnessed what had happened.

•●•

Ruby didn't like Dean.

For many reasons, some more obvious or justifiable than others. But for the sake of the role Sam had to play, Ruby forced herself to cooperate with the older of the Winchesters.

But this was too much.

The mere presence of Dean made her feel like there were cockroaches crawling all over her body. His soul had taken on a new glow and Ruby didn't want to know what kind of things Dean was doing with his angel to have that kind of purity.

"I think there's something wrong with Dean," Sam confessed and Ruby could feel the fear making his voice shake or maybe the shaking came from the blood that was still running down her arm.

"What are you talking about?" Ruby asked sweetly, almost genuinely concerned. If it were up to her Dean would still be rotting in hell, but Sam was on his way of doing a miracle and Ruby felt that someone like that deserved all the happiness and satisfaction in the world. Even if it meant having to put up with Dean Winchester.

"He looks different," Sam said. "I think the angels are doing something to him. My brother would never have..."

"What?" Ruby prompted. "Would never have risked his life for an angel?"

"Well, no".

Ruby had a sudden epiphany that they weren't talking about Ana.

"Maybe the angels are… purifying him," Ruby suggested. "I mean, you know what he did when he was in hell".

The idea of ​​Dean, brave and kind Dean, torturing souls in hell and enjoying it was too funny to be true.

"It's something more than that".

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know!"

Ruby thought that they had already wasted a lot of time talking about Dean, so she decided to silence Sam with a deep and dirty kiss, climbing onto his lap and thinking that heaven could purify Dean as much as they wanted, because she would see to it that Sam was more powerful than they could ever imagine.

•●•

The angels had taken his brother and Sam swore he was going to kill them as soon as he found them.

Wasn't it enough that they were manipulating and corrupting him, they also had to make him relive what happened in hell?

Dean had protected him from many things. Dean, his older brother, had taken it upon himself to give him a childhood that he never allowed himself to have. Dean had been in the front row of his school play. Dean had made him tomato rice soup whenever he got sick. Dean had put a wad of money and a cell phone in his bag when he had left for Stanford.

Dean had sold his soul to save him.

So now it was Sam's turn to save his older brother.

•●•

"For what it's worth," Cas murmured against his lips. Dean was shuddering with what could be fear or perhaps anticipation. "I would give anything not to have you do this".

•●•

Sam had killed Alistair and Dean was furious.

Hundreds of emotions were piling up in his mind and he wasn't able to understand how his brother could be so stupid to not see that his powers were changing him for the worse. Dean could feel that something was wrong with Sam and his little brother didn't seem to mind.

"I did it to save you!" Sam insisted, throwing his hands up as if Dean was going to lunge at him despite still being slightly dizzy from the hospital drugs. "I only used my powers to protect you when the angels couldn't!"

"Cas did the best he could."

"Really?" There was a note of hysteria in Sam's voice. "Are you going to defend him?"

"Sam..."

"He forced you to torture Alistair despite knowing what you did in hell!"

"He had no other choice!"

"He's using you!"

"But at least he has never lied to me!"

The lightbulb in the room exploded.

Both brothers froze and Dean could see that Sam was breathing heavily and refusing to meet his eyes.

"Sammy?"

"I'm going to get some air," was all Sam said before he practically ran out of the room.

Leaving Dean wondering if things between them would one day stop being so broken.

•●•

Dean's eyes glowed blue.

Angelic blue.

Sam had to save his brother before it was too late.

•●•

The first time Dean healed him, Sam felt like something inside him was burning.

It had been a hunt like any other. No seals threatening to break, no angels or demons. Just the two of them against an angry ghost, just like old times.

Except the ghost was really angry and by the time Dean managed to burn their bones, Sam had been thrown into several graves and several trees and he was sure the back of his head was bleeding.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, running up to him and gently laying him on the ground, with his head in his lap, examining the severity of the injury. Sam felt like a little kid again, feeling safe next to his big brother.

For a moment, there was no apocalypse or arguments. Just the warmth of his brother's body and gentle fingers running through his hair.

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam managed to say. "You know how much head injuries bleed. It's less serious than it seems".

"I know, Sammy".

And then Sam felt the soft strokes on his hair turn into flames and a gasp escaped from his throat. The pain lasted only a second and by the time Sam regained awareness of his surroundings, none of his injuries were still hurting.

"What did you do to me?" Sam hissed, pulling away from Dean and standing up quickly and nearly falling back to the ground from the wave of nausea that washed over him.

"I… I don't know." Dean looked as terrified as Sam felt. "I just wanted to make you feel better".

Dean wasn't normal anymore. Whatever the angels had done or were doing to him was changing his brother.

And Sam no longer knew if he could save him.

•●•

"What's happening to me, Cas?" Dean asked. Trying to convince himself that his little brother was safe and that even though Lilith had escaped, she at least hadn't made any deals with Sam.

"You're changing," was Cas' soft reply. "A metamorphosis, a revelation".

"Am I not human anymore?" Dean asked with his voice showing the terror he really felt.

"You're always going to be human, Dean," Cas reassured him. "Every saint, every messiah, was as human as you".

"I don't deserve this, Cas," Dean gasped, closing his eyes to avoid seeing Castiel, his wings and halo, his eyes and his light. He wasn’t worthy of witnessing the greatness of an angel, not this angel at least.

"Do you still think you don't deserve to be saved?" Cas whispered and Dean trembled slightly as he felt a warm hand gently touch his chin, forcing him to look up and open his eyes. Cas was looking at him so adoringly that Dean felt like he was going to combust in any minute. "Do you think you don't deserve to be loved?"

This is love? Dean almost asked, but instead he connected his lips to those of the angel in front of him and tried to ignore the way in which, for the first time since he had been dragged to hell, he felt pure.

•●•

Castiel couldn't keep doing this.

Heaven had lied to them. Castiel had delusionally believed that he was keeping Dean safe, that he was rendering him immune to demons, healing his wounds and protecting him from all danger.

When in reality Castiel had only been poisoning him.

Shame mingled with guilt within his grace. His wings were flapping as fast as they could, pulling him towards Dean. Trying to warn him about what heaven was planning. Trying to save him from the hell Castiel had condemned him to.

The angels found him first.

Castiel felt how his wings were imprisoned and how his entire being seemed to be consumed by the most absolute pain.

"Take him to Naomi," ordered one of his superiors. "Fix him as soon as possible".

The last thing Castiel felt was the bond he had begun to form with Dean being brutally ripped apart.

•●•

No demon could touch him and surprisingly that wasn't the strangest revelation Dean had that day.

No, the fact that the demon that tried to touch him in Jimmy Novak's house let out a scream of pain as he held onto his burned hand paled in comparison to everything else:

Seeing Sam, his baby brother, throw himself on a demon to drink her blood, broke his heart in a way that Dean couldn't even begin explain.

After that, seeing how Cas looked like his wings had been passed through a shredder while his true form's eyes seemed dull and unfocused only served to make his wounded heart surrender completely.

Dean was practically invincible, but right now, with the broken pieces of his heart trying to stick together, he felt more fragile than any glass.

•●•

Bobby wasn't having a good day.

No, that wasn't good enough, Bobby wasn't having a good life.

But this day was particularly bad.

No matter how much he wanted to ignore them, Bobby could still hear Sam's delirious screams. And to think that the boy who had entered his house years ago, hiding behind his older brother and observing everything with big eyes full of curiosity, was now going through a detoxification process for having consumed demon blood, was something that Bobby could hardly tolerate.

The fact that Dean was a mess didn't help much either.

Dean appeared to be a shadow, drowning in alcohol and carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Bobby wondered if there was something wrong with him too, for on more than one occasion the lights around him seemed to flicker and his eyes seemed to emit a strange light.

What had these two idjits gotten themselves into now?

•●•

Dean didn't know what else to do anymore.

"She's poison, Sam," Dean said, praying his brother saw reason. Sam just gave him a wry smile.

"What about Castiel?" Sam hissed and Dean instinctively took a step back. "Is he poison too, Dean?"

They had both lied to each other and here were the consequences.

"Cas is an angel," Dean replied. "He's just protecting me".

"What makes you different from me?" Sam asked. "Tell me, why are you allowed to be a freak and I'm not?"

"Sam that's not how things are..."

"Of course they are!" Sam yelled. "All my life I have been the freak of our family, I never fit in with you and dad, and I was ready to accept that I'm different from you, but it turns out that you are the same freak as me!"

"It's different and you know it, Sam," Dean tried to argue. "Cas never made me drink his blood, he never made me promises too good to be true, and he never made me addicted to anything".

"Why?" Sam asked, sounding exactly like the scared little kid who had believed that the monster under his bed was real. Dean felt his heart ache. "Why if we are both freaks I have to be the monster?"

"It's not too late, Sam," Dean pleaded. "We can still stop this. No angels and no demons, just you and me. Like before".

"I… I can't do that, Dean," Sam denied.

"Of course you can," Dean insisted, moving slowly toward Sam. "Say goodbye to Ruby, return with me to Bobby's house and we will find a way to end it all. I just want you to be okay, Sammy".

Sam's skin began to burn the moment Dean placed his hand on his arm.

No.

"Sammy?" Dean didn't recognize his own voice, he felt like his body had ceased to be his. A witness of his worst nightmares. A tear ran down his cheek. "Sammy, please".

The blow hurt less than the implications of what just happened.

•●•

It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair.

The place where Dean's hand had touched it still hurt. A reminder of what he had sacrificed for the greater good. A mockery of what he had lost by trying to be a hero.

But he couldn't stop, not now that he was so close to ending it all. Not when it was only a matter of hours before Lilith tried to break the final seal.

Ruby's presence was a comfort with the same intensity as a punishment, because Dean hadn't trusted him the way she did, but still Sam wanted the presence of his older brother.

That part of him that had believed for years that his older brother was a superhero right now wanted to run up to his brother and beg for forgiveness.

But Sam was no longer a child and his brother had made a decision.

It was time for Sam to made his, too.

•●•

The angels had kidnapped him. There was no other way to describe what they had done to him, but Dean had made a promise and he planned to keep it. So he stayed there and listened to what the angels told him.

But the moment Zacharias leaned toward him, his movements clinical and expressionless in a way Cas' had never been, Dean couldn't resist the urge to seal his lips, lower his gaze, and take several steps back.

"Dean," Zacharias sighed, as if Dean was a little kid who didn't want to eat his vegetables.

"No," Dean refused and before he could regret it he added. "I want Castiel to do it".

The expression on Cas' face was heartbroken.

"Very well," Zacharias agreed, before ordering Cas to come over to him.

With Cas' lips so close to his and with the warmth of what he now knew was grace enveloping his body, Dean wondered if Sam had been right and Cas had been poisoning him too.

Perhaps both of them had poisoned each other.

"You're almost ready," Zacharias marveled when Cas broke away from him. "Everything will go according to plan".

Dean wasn't so sure about that anymore.

•●•

"Sam," Ruby said, her dark eyes showing a panic Sam never remembered seeing. "Time is running out, are you going to do it or not?"

With Dean's voice telling him that he was a monster echoing in his head, Sam knew he really had no other choice.

•●•

"You know what's real?" Dean asked and didn't wait for an answer before grabbing the lapels of Cas' trenchcoat and slamming his lips against his.

Cas seemed to freeze for a moment before reciprocating the kiss with intensity. His black wings curved around both of them and Dean felt the heat of his halo brushing against his hair. Invisible hands caressed his skin and hundreds of eyes watched him adoringly.

"This is real," Dean gasped as they parted. "This, us, people, families— that's real. You're gonna watch them all burn, Cas?"

"What would you have me do, Dean?" Cas whispered. His wings trembling slightly.

"Get me to Sam," Dean said. "We can stop this before it's too late".

"I do that, we will all be hunted," Cas replied. "We'll all be killed".

"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it" was all Dean could say.

Dean barely had time to react before he was being pushed into one of the walls and kissed desperately. Dean raised his hands to tangle them in Cas' hair and parted his lips the moment he felt Cas' tongue touch his lower lip.

His body accepted Cas' grace with ease.

"We have to find Sam, we have to stop him from killing Lilith," Cas told him when they parted.

"Why?" Dean asked, feeling a little dizzy. "Lilith is going to break the final seal".

"Lilith is the final seal," Cas said. "She dies; the end begins".

•●•

Sam had never felt a power like this.

It was all about to end and he could finally have the life he deserved. His nightmare would end and everything Azazel had planned would be in vain. Sam would use the powers that hell had given him for good. He would use the demon blood that ran through his veins to prevent the apocalypse.

And maybe, when things finally ended, Sam could apologize to Dean and all of this would be nothing more than a bad memory.

Lilith was smiling and Sam was eager to erase that smile once and for all.

Finally, everything was about to end.

•●•

Castiel was committing treason.

He didn't even think twice before vanishing Zacharias and carrying Dean as quickly as his wings allowed him to the house of the prophet of the lord. It was the only chance they had to find Sam and stop the apocalypse before it started.

"You guys aren't supposed to be there," said the prophet, frowning. "You're not in this story".

"Yeah, well..." Castiel said. "We're making it up as we go".

Castiel then took a moment to look at Dean, his soul shining as bright as the sun and cradling his grace as if he never wanted to be without it. Castiel felt a wave of affection for the human he had rescued from hell, for the man who had kissed his lips like a lover.

He sensed the archangel's presence long before he appeared and Castiel knew that they had run out of time.

Regardless of whether the prophet was watching them, Castiel pulled Dean to share a heavy kiss. A kiss of regret for lost time. A goodbye kiss.

"I'll hold him off!" Castiel gasped against Dean's lips, allowing most of his grace to flow to him. If Castiel couldn't protect him, at least he would make sure his grace did. "I'll hold them all off! Just stop Sam!"

Dean connected their lips one last time.

"Good luck".

In the end, Dean had been right. This was something worth dying for.

•●•

He had been too late.

•●•

"I was the best of all those sons of bitches!" Ruby yelled, a maniacal smile curving her lips. "The most loyal!"

Sam had stopped listening to her, just staring in horror at what he had done.

This is not how things are supposed to be. This shouldn't have been the end of this. He had made a stupid mistake, he had been arrogant and he had been naive. Sam had only wanted to protect the world; he had only wanted to take some of the burden off his brother's shoulders.

Sam, for once in his life, had just wanted to do something right.

"You're too late," Ruby scoffed and Sam felt like he might start crying when he saw his big brother.

"I don't care," Dean hissed and Sam could only watch paralyzed as Dean placed his hand on Ruby's forehead and she started screaming, her eyes on fire and the demonic essence of her fading.

"I'm sorry," Sam sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Dean".

Dean couldn't even look him in the eye.

"We have to get out of here," was all Dean said. "Let's go, Sam".

"Dean," Sam gasped. "He's coming".

Dean ignored him, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the exit.

For the first time in months, Dean's touch was no longer uncomfortable.

•●•

The apocalypse had begun.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #castiel #ruby #destiel #deancas #samruby #spn s4 #spn fic #supernatural fic #destiel fic #deancas fic #spn au #i still don't know what i'm doing #but i couldn't resist #this idea was awesome #bestie i hope you like this #my writing

[emily-the-fae]

Every Day is a Lullaby

A oneshot. This honestly came to my mind yesterday night, I do not know how well the idea turned out to be.

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x OC

Warnings:probably language, blood, injury, background character death, brief mentions of sex, angst mith mix of fluff

Rated: T

Mr Ketch has many sides, likable and repulsing - but which one of his faces is truly his is sometimes an uncertainty even for him.

Harper reflects on the changes on their relationship as they get out of a hunt gone wrong. While Ketch reconsiders some of his past choices... And reasons why he is still alive.

If he's a serial killer

Then what's the worst

That can happen to a girl

Who's already hurt

I'm already hurt

The first time Harper met him was a coincidence. It was long before the whole nephilim thing, long before she found out what kind of man he was, what kind of hunter he was. Yet even back then in the span of their first couple of meetings  she felt he was no good.

A stupid hunting coincidence.

Harper was not used to hunting alone. She did that to herself - separated herself from the Winchesters. However much she loved Sam and Dean, she could not bear continuously being around them, not after everything that happened. Not after Charlie. Because no matter what Dean said or how Sam reassured her - it was her fault. Charlie was a great friend. Charlie had the brightest soul. Harper was late to help her and now Charlie was no more. It was all Harper's fault.

Driving away and going head first into hunting was the outmost Winchester way of dealing with the guilt and grief. Hunting alone while slowly coming out of her lowest phase - those were the circumstances under which Harper met Arthur Ketch.

The first time it happened it was a coincidence - two hunters choosing the same target is not uncommon. Harper was already on spot and all in the fight when he arrived. "Are you insane going into a whole vampire nest alone?" - those were the first words she ever heard from him. She might have been slightly insane, but he sure was a damn psycho. To be honest if not for him she would have probably ended up dead or turned in that vampire nest that night. Harper hates being honest about it.

The second coincidence happened just a few days after the first one - she would later on doubt if it was a coincidence at all. Perhaps it was. Harper would never really know - what she did know though was that he still had a small scar left above his left eyebrow - a mark of where she hit him with the grip of her gun, thinking it was the witch that was creeping up to her and absolutely not expecting to hear a male voice swearing after her blow. Arthur had not known her for 24 hours in sum and they were already making a scene after a hunt - Harper almost pitied she had not knocked him out straight away.

What happened on the next day? He caught her in the town and suggested to team up to avoid "future confusions". Rule number one how to become friends with Arthur Ketch: hit him in the face. Harper wasn't going to become friends with him - with any hunters for that matter - but fate seldom cared what Harper was going to do anyways.

Harper definitely lied to herself when she said that they were going to be only friends or that she was going to hate him after all the British Men of Letters invasion story. She didn't. Not with the way they met in the first place: him ripping her out of the claws of the angry remnants of the vampire pack - slightly concerned greyish blue eyes and a British accent was what greeted her at dawn that day, even though mid in fight she had accepted she would not see the sun again. It seemed symbolic how he saved her from giving up, from herself. And certainly not after the way their relationship went from mutual curiosity to blind semi-professional trust. Harper did not need a "friend" to console her: if she had wanted that she would have stayed around Sam - she needed someone unfeeling but understanding enough to see through her and consciously let it be.

She remembered it clearly - three hunts into their relationship - a month after their first encounter - they were sharing a hotel room. Two beds, late night after a hunt, she lied on her side and quietly cried. It was a demon hunt. The memories were too much. Arthur came into view and stared at her for a couple of moments before walking to his own bed.

- I'd say you can talk about it when you want to, but I doubt you will ever feel the necessity, - a brief caress of his hand against her shoulder. He did not try to relieve her, he allowed her to get to her own way of coping. For that Harper was grateful more than ever. - We all have skeletons in our closets, it's the downturn of the job.

Oh, dear Arthur, we are both now  aware you knew far too well what you were talking about. Harper doubted any hunter had a closet cemetery as large as Ketch's.

Yet... Even after that - the awkward reuniting with the Winchesters, being pulled away from him as she came back to her old friends and witnessing, luckily from a safe distance, how the man she grew to trust without actually knowing him, uncovered darker and darker sides of his personality. What was worst - after she refused to join the BMoL, he would continue to sometimes keep her hunting company, going on like nothing happened. Like nothing changed. Why worst? It let the image of the heartless killer that she should have seen before her now connect and combine with the image of the man who would patch her up on her darkest nights and put a firm hand on her shoulder when Harper was too deep in memory to restrain herself. His presence around her became a reassurance in itself - because he did not have to know to understand. And because he simply had not been there - looking into his eyes Harper wouldn't get reminded of the times when everything was still right, wouldn't get reminded of that one time everything went very wrong. Probably those were the main qualities that helped him win a spot in her heart. Those and his unending casual flirting.

And now? After everything was over, after his very dark side was revealed, the confessions were made and the redemption was played, what did she think of him? The hunter, turned out just a very well trained assassin - he had served the British Men of Letters, he had served Asmodeus - now here he was separated from any commanding he ever had, living a hunting life of his own and sometimes collaborating with the Winchesters. Therewere many dark moments forgotten for the sake of peace. Many more had yet to come up - judging by how Ketch treated his own history and interests of others.

" - I wonder where Mick went, he was always so nice... Nicer than you, anyways. Pity he went away all of a sudden, - Harper mentioned once after a hunt.

- He did not go anywhere. I shot him in the head just like Hess ordered, - Ketch seemed calm and cold as steel. " Sometimes Harper thought that leaving BMoL would change him, but moments like that she realized how slowly the changes - if any - would have to occur. That night she simply walked away, not saying another word.

If anyone ever asked Harper how Arthur's spot in her heart had shifted after all the mess he had caused? She would say that he never even had one... And think that truth to be told there was no flame hot enough to burn him out of her chest - his name carved on her ribs would have been easier to get rid of than the bittersweet affection she harboured for the moral wreck of a man named Arthur Ketch.

If he's as bad as they say

Then I guess I'm cursed

Looking into his eyes

I think he's already hurt

He's already hurt

Despite that Harper never dared pursue a relationship. Why? She was very sure with people like Ketch the only right strategy was not to expect them to be capable of attachment. The flirting, the sweet promising looks he would give her after a well-accomplished hunt... Harper would dream of believing them to be genuine. She was very well aware thinking him in any way genuine was a risk she was not ready to take. She knew Ketch would not mind letting that affair happen - he made that quite clear. She also knew it would mean absolutely nothing to him apart from some company and a warm body in his bed. Arthur Ketch was cold, unemotional and taught himself well not to get attached to anyone - and even if that was not true, he tried his damn best to make it seem so.

Harper sometimes hoped she saw it in his eyes: a silent "please keep safe" when they would part after a hunt, a sparking "I missed you" when they would meet once again. Arthur sometimes hoped she would see it too - very deep in his soul, deeper than he would ever be able to admit even to himself.

In other words, the outcome of the new hunt would have presented itself sooner or later anyways. They were actually quite lucky to have it present itself the way it did.

The werewolf did not seem such a hard target - away from bigger packs, alone terrorizing the neighborhood - just because he could. Problem and solution crystal clear - a hunt where one clearly sees the root of evil is a blessing for a hunter that's used to all the versions of heartbreaking stories. What Harper did not so clearly see was the gun in their opponent's hands. To be more precise: she did see it, but a little too late.

Two gunshots rang at the same time: her silver bullet hitting right into the monster's heart and his normal one - ... Ketch fell against the wall, sliding down to the floor: his left shoulder bled, the bulletproof vest, even though being pierced in the thinner area, had preserved him from being too deeply injured - but not kept completely safe from wounding.

Several seconds of silence - making sure the werewolf is not a threat anymore - realisation and fear finally hitting Harper.

- Ketch?... Ketch?!... Arthur! - the hunter was too disoriented to answer and his silence was taken as a bad sign. - Oh Lord, Arthur, no! - gone are the self-restraint and professional coldness: the moment she sees blood on his chest, she rushes to his side, forgetting about everything else in the world. She needs to make sure he will be fine. He has to be. - Arthur, please, don't die on me! Arthur! - she calls for his attention, the hunter slowly regaining his senses.

For a moment there he believes he hears Tony. This reminds him of some of his unlucky hunts from the years before, though back then he had certainly had it worse. Besides this definitely was not Tony.

Tony would have said "Ketch's down" and carry on with the hunt, eyes on the target, and when the deed was done she would pass him with a short "How is it?" - more out of politeness than genuine caring. That was exactly what she did the only two times he had been seriously injured infront of her.

- Ketch, answer me right this instant, don't you dare fading out! - panic in her voice, genuine. The idea of someone caring as much as to panic at the thought of his death seems too good to be true - for him at least. Arthur feels hands investigating his chest, checking for the wound: cold thin fingers running over his blood-covered skin. Not Tony - Harper.

- I'll live, darling, it's nothing too serious, - attempting to sound confident, but his voice is rasp. It's nothing serious, but it hurt nonetheless: the blow on the shoulder was much harder than anticipated and the bleeding needed to be stopped.

Harper looks into the light blue, borderline grey eyes - he is staring up at her, his gaze unguarded only for a moment that lets her see the uncommon softness and hope in his expression - just for a moment - she believes the things she guessed about him were true, she believes the pain visible in his eyes is true, only by accident revealed to her. The state lasts only a couple of moments - but even that is more than enough for his visible emotions to imprint into her mind.

Arthur Ketch was able to feel. Arthur Ketch could be in pain. Arthur Ketch was capable of needing help.

I said "Don't be a jerk, don't call me a taxi"

Sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat ooh-ooh

I just wanna dance with you

Hollywood and Vine, Black Rabbit in the alley

I just wanna hold you tight down the avenue ooh

I just wanna dance with you

It was a wonder that the hotel clerk did not stop them on their way - Ketch looked positively dying - Harper was quite sure there was no legal thing that could have happened to him that would have explained this appearance. This was the reason normal hunters chose motels: less suspicion. Harper briefly wondered where he got the money to maintain his former lifestyle, since he was stripped of the BMoL funding, but she guessed there were other sources on his side and he was just too stubborn to change his ways.

When they stumbled into his hotel room, Arthur made a move to drop himself on the bed, but Harper grabbed him by the collar swiftly, dragging him away in the other direction.

- Ketch don't you dare stain the sheets, they'll report us, - she mumbled, pushing him to enter the bathroom and dropping him to sit on the edge of the tub.

He would have laughed if the sudden movement had not caused sharp pain to shoot through his damaged shoulder, making him wince. Alexandra. He had wondered for so long whom Harper reminded him of and out of all moments they shared it was this that made him realise. The memory reappeared in his mind so vividly now.

"Artie, no! Don't go to your room, you'll stain your carpet! Mum will kill us!" - and the older girl held him under his arms, guiding him to the kitchen.

He still remembered it: the years before school, before Kendricks, him and his sister mostly alone in the house with parents constantly away. Alexandra had brought him up before Kendricks had. Alexandra had a lovely voice, she would read him bedtime stories, she would sing to him, she was kind and caring - probably the only human being in his life that ever seemed to care. When he went to Kendricks was the last time he had ever seen her... Well, alive. Alexandra was kind and caring - and that was probably the reason why she had not made it through the training. In fact her death might have been the only reason why he survived and made it to the top - having no one care about you has a benefit: you don't have to care about anyone too.

After his sister's funeral life had never felt the same and Arthur had been quite certain before that it was for the better. Now, watching Harper rush about, trying to find the medical kit to help him, he thought that he had been terribly wrong all the damn time.

How long has she known him? A couple of years, not more, but the relationship between them reached beyond the borders of friendship or companionship. That little american hunter - the first time he saw her he thought she was suicidal, the second one - bold and full of sass. The following months proved her well capable of combining both while turning out to be so much more, one of which being: to be able to love Arthur Ketch. Of course he knew she loved him - this was among those traits in her that he openly treated with polite contempt and deep down envied more than anything.

He watched Harper come to his side, sliding his hunting gear off his shoulders - her movements so gentle, her eyes filled with worry and guilt.

- I'm so sorry Arthur, I should have... - you're always sorry. You always think it is your fault and none else's. This was most probably the main reason why it was so easy for him to openly reject her feeling: they both knew she loved him, they both knew he saw it, he toyed with her so many times, being suggestive, flirting. "As long as I enjoy the physical aspects of having an affair, the emotional attachment that other people believe necessary to form is rather pathetic" - he told her once. He actually said that, those were his words. I would like to fuck you as long as you shut your disgustingly human little heart. She stared at him for a moment, her beautiful face almost successfully hiding the hurt - then turned away silently, shrugging her shoulders. He was being a jerk. Harper never stopped him from that, Harper seemed to take it all in and believe he was right, believe that her feeling for him was utterly pathetic. That it was her fault.

- It was no one's mistake, love, it was an unlucky accident. Besides it didn't turn out that awful, - he trailed off. She was cleaning his skin over the wound now, preparing to apply stitches. Arthur could sense a little shudder in her at the word "love". He was so used to saying it that he forgot about all the connotations it held. Lord, was he bad at this.

Harper continued her work silently. She felt him studying her face and prayed to be finished as quick as possible - she did not need another heartbreaking hope and she had already made the mistake of looking into his eyes that night. When the last stitch was done, she turned away to put the materials aside and sensed him straighten up behind her back - Harper felt he wanted to say something else, but she could not give him that opportunity. She almost thought he would die that night - seeing him on the floor made her blood run cold - she did not need any more pain to add to the aftermath of the shock.

- I'm going to my room, but please call me if you feel worse during the night, - she spoke, not turning to face him, ready to walk out of the bathroom. Harper felt his hand grab her wrist in a rushed movement and turned abruptly only to see him staring back at her with unguarded softness in his eyes. The only time she remembered Arthur look at her like that was when she twisted an ankle during the hunt all due to his mistake. It scared her a little to see that expression on him.

- Why won't you just stay to keep an eye on me? - his voice low, with an undertone she so often heard when he flirted with her.

- You're a big boy, Ketch, we both know that even stitching you up was superfluous, you can perfectly well tend to yourself, - a smile. Harper tried to brush it off jokingly, ready to make her leave, but his grasp on her wrist only grew stronger.

- Stay.  At least for this night. Please, - the smile disappeared from her face. He sounded wounded, he sounded like he really pleaded. Harper broke away from his grasp, taking a step back.

- You don't need a... - she shook her head.

- But I do, - he stood up, taking a step towards her, not letting her increase the distance between them. His fingers came up to caress her cheek gently. - Harper, stay, - she shut her eyes, standing still and quiet for a couple of seconds, seemingly fighting back emotions.

- You don't mean this, - she said, looking up at him sharply and confidently, but in a moment, failing to restrain herself, she continues more quietly and softly. - Why do you have to be so cruel to me? - he could see tears brimming in her eyes.

They stood frozen in front of each other, her face so close to his, her eyes watering - not because of this particular evening, but because of all those times before he had behaved in similar nature. It was the first time she had so directly addressed the issue of her feelings for him. "Why do you have to be so cruel to me?" She seemed to be waiting for an actual answer. Why was she always so kind to him? Like he was normal, like he didn't hurt her? Arthur leaned down, his hand still cupping her cheek, his lips touching hers gently and firmly.

Harper closed her eyes - not as a girl would do in a pretty romantic movie - she shut her eyes, pressing her eyelids together, holding her breath, shuddering. A single tear ran down her cheek.

When they parted, though his face still stayed just a few centimeters away from hers, Harper opened her eyes again, her breath shaking.

- Arthur...

His free hand circled her waist, pulling her closer to him, as his fingers slid away from her cheek,  moving behind her head, running through her hair. Arthur leaned close to her ear, his breath ghosting over her neck.

- Because I hate how you make me feel like I can still have a life, like not everything is lost. I hate how you make me feel worth being cared about and able to care. I hate how you make me feel, - he said that rushed and quiet. Pressing his front to the side of her head, breathing deeply.

- And what if you are lying? What if this all is for the sake of one night? I'm tired of guessing if you have a soul or not, Arthur, I'm too worn out, - she wispered after some time, leaning her forehead into his uninjured shoulder.

- Then trust me this one time. I promise. Please.

- Why?

- Because I need you. I need you to feel alive.

Arthur felt her let out a deep breath, her petite form pressing itself to his, her arms sliding behind his back to hold him close. She raised her head, freezing for a moment before their eyes met, then leaning up - their lips meeting now less gingerly than the first time.

- Does that mean you'll stay?

- You're such an asshole, Ketch...

- I know.

Harper hid her face in his chest, sobbing quietly, her form shacking, worn out both physically and emotionally. Arthur kissed her temple softly, caressing her back, for once feeling like he did everything right. For once feeling like they had a chance.

Happiness is a butterfly

Try to catch it like every night

It's escaping from me into moonlight

#supernatural #spn fanfiction #arthur ketch x oc #this is written half at night and half on school breaks please don't judge me #i havenot revisited this fandom in such a long time #arthur ketch x reader #arthur ketch #sam winchester #dean winchester #british men of letters #angst #happiness is a butterfly #lana del rey #oneshot #songfic

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 12

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 12

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2369

Summary: Finally starting to talk about the dreams encourages Sam to start trusting himself. 

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           In an ideal world, you would’ve been patient enough to let Sam bring it up next. But adding the layer of possibility of seeing Dean, really Dean, again, opening some channel to talk to him in your dreams, was sending you into a spiral that ironically was preventing you from sleeping.

           You lasted a few weeks before waking up on a morning of early spring melt and waiting for Sam at the breakfast bar with your now-prized notebook. He came out of the bedroom as you were cutting a grapefruit for him and you passed over a cup of coffee.

           “You seem, uh, chipper.” He was still blinking slowly like he always did for the first few minutes after waking up, fingers wrapping nearly all the way around the ceramic and bypassing the handle.

           Waiting until he sat down on one of the stools and smiling at how short it looked compared to his legs, you put a bowl of yogurt and granola in front of him next to the fruit. Cheap bribery, but you were willing to try anything you had. “I’m hoping maybe we can, um, try to figure this out. I thought if we could make kind of a timeline then maybe we could—” you stammered, having run through this script in your head and still feeling your heart ram against your ribs as you watched for Sam’s reaction. He set the mug down and rubbed his face before resting his head in his hands.

           “Okay.”

           “Okay?”

           “I mean, yeah. I’ve been—I don’t know, I’ve just—”

           “Sam, you don’t have to explain anything.”

           His mouth tightened into a firm line and you could see his jaw flex before he picked up a spoon and started stirring the granola into his yogurt. “Where do you want to start?”

           You’d had a small variety of dreams where Dean narrowly avoided death, but you and Sam decided the best place to start would be the dreams that were explicitly good. That left:

           Sam hadn’t immediately offered what his dreams with Dean were about, and when you sensed that moment of hesitation you didn’t push. That privacy was the least you could give him, already feeling guilty at prying into his thoughts as much as you were.

           “Well, what about those days? Did anything different happen on the days you had those dreams?” you asked, trying to change tack.

           He raised his eyebrows and considered it for a minute. “The first time was obviously the, uh, the cupcakes.”

           Remembering it made you smile a little to yourself and you wrote it down in the notebook. “And the next?”

           “Uh, that Thursday.”

           “Right, but what happened that day?”

           Sam bit the inside of his lip. “Nothing, really.”

           “Okay, well work sucked, that’s for sure. Maybe that was it, that you were more tired? Remember I fell asleep on the couch while you were in the shower?”

           “If you weren’t covered in grenadine I would’ve left you there.”

           “Can you imagine how sticky and gross I would’ve been in the morning? So work was shitty, I fell asleep on the couch, what else—”

           “You folded my laundry for me.”

           “What?”

           He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “You, uh, you folded my laundry for me.”

           “I always fold laundry.”

           “No—not the laundry, my laundry.  I forgot a bunch of my stuff in the dryer and you folded it while I was in the shower.”

           “I really doubt me folding th—”

           “We talked about it in the dream, it was the laundry.” Before you could pry, he took a big gulp of coffee. “So where does that put us?”

           “Wait, I’m still on the laundry.”

           “It was…I don’t know, it was just really nice. It felt like a really nice, normal thing. And it’s not—I mean, who cares, it was just laundry, about the lowest stakes favor there’s ever been in our lives, but it kind of hit me how far we’d come and it made me realize I’d fold your laundry too, you know? The big stuff we’ve already proven, right? But it’s little stuff like folding the laundry, that day-in, day-out, I’m-thinking-about-you—”

           “Gummy worms,” you murmured.

           “What?”

           “I feel like that when you buy me gummy worms. Maybe you’re just doing that because Dean did or whatever, but there’s something about those extra things that add up. I get it.”

           “I—yeah.” Sam gulped.

           You started writing.

           Spinning the notebook back toward him, you let Sam read and didn’t say anything for a long minute past when he was sure to have finished, even getting up to refill your coffee cups while he thought. You came back to the counter and wrapped your fingers around the warm mug, unwilling to be the first one to speak.

           Sam’s jaw tightened around nothing and he nodded slightly without looking up, vision trained on a blank spot of counter next to his bowl. When he finally tilted and met your eyes, his were so big and shiny, so Precious Moments that you almost would’ve laughed, almost would’ve smacked his shoulder and told him to stop manipulating you with those Victim’s Family Puppy Dog Eyes. But they were genuine and unmoving, electric with emotion in the morning light. You traced the angle of his jaw and slipped a fallen piece of hair behind his ear before steadying your palm on the back of his neck, hair warming your fingertips as you met his eyes, leaning an inch or two closer to Sam’s face and then he glanced down at your lips. He didn’t move at all as you slowly, carefully closed the distance between you until at the last second Sam wrapped his fingers around your wrist where it grazed his throat and turned into it, pressing his lips to the now-thrumming pulse there for an extended beat.

           He opened and closed his mouth to try to explain, but you kissed his forehead in apology before he could say anything.

           “I, um—thank you for going over these with me,” you whispered into his hairline, feeling his nod against you.  You broke away from him, taking his empty bowl to the sink for an excuse to do something with your hands. “I need new scrapers to take off the popcorn ceiling, is there anything else I should get at the hardware store?” You knew it would be hard to hear you over the running water to wash the dish, but you couldn’t risk your voice cracking if you spoke louder.

           Mercifully, he didn’t push. “Nothing I can think of, no.”

           You left a few minutes later while Sam was in the shower, careening way too fast around the curves in the rural highways just to feel the weight of the Impala strain to stay on track. There were so many things coming together, so many sweet and comfortable aspects to your life, but it was so frustrating to have the two you wanted most to be just barely out of reach; the ability to be truly happy with Sam or to see Dean in your dreams both obfuscated by the self-flagellating remnants of Sam’s unimaginable torture.

           And yet, impossible for you to be angry with Sam at all; it was yet another in a long stream of ways his life had been torn to shreds by external forces, yet another reminder of how unimaginably resilient he was to be standing at all. Screaming at the complete unfairness of it like a moody teenager in the privacy afforded by the car and the trees, you only had to wipe a few tears away in the parking lot before going into the hardware store.

           Diane was working and had some helpful tips for dealing with the ceilings, as well as a picture of her new grandchild to show you before you headed back to the cabin. You had to bump the front door open with your hip because of the heavy paper bag of supplies, and when Sam heard you he walked over from the couch with a few long strides, taking it out of your hands. His hair was still wet, dripping an uneven collar around his shirt.

           “Is this—uh, did you—do you only want this so we can see Dean again?”

           You weren’t expecting to get into it again, at least not right away, and had to take a deep breath to soothe your surprise at Sam’s nervous energy. He set the bag down a little roughly on the kitchen counter as you followed him inside.

            “Sam, of course not, Jesus. I mean, but I—but yeah, I want to see him again, don’t you?”

            “Of course I do.” He winced, pained even at the suggestion otherwise.

           “I’m sorry I misread the moment earlier. I’m—I, I love you Sam; those days were the only real happy ones I’ve had since Dean died, and if being together means we get to—” and you were cut off by Sam’s hands cupping your face as he kissed you, firm and urgent with tight closed lips like he was trying to seal himself to your skin.

           It was over as soon as it started, Sam holding your head as he pulled his own away and searching your eyes. “If it isn’t rea—” he stopped short, screwed his face together before continuing, consciously unclenched his jaw and smoothed the furrows of his eyebrows. “If we’re doing this, it has to be about us. I can’t—I just can’t build everything on some dreams.”

           You nodded, stunned.

           Sam kept looking between your eyes furiously like he was trying to communicate something you weren’t getting. You tried desperately to race through what it could be and came up short, your brain melting and swirling together inside your skull. It was impossible for you to tell whether he’d found what he wanted or not, but after a few brief seconds of shifting his center of gravity like he was getting ready to either be socked or start a sprint, his face tightened in frustration and he touched his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I’m—I’m not ready,” he growled, more to himself than anything as he shut his eyes hard. You waited for an explanation, your breath gone shallow and your cheeks fiery-hot under Sam’s hands.

           He brushed along your cheekbone with a callused thumb and lifted your chin with featherweight pressure, your lips not a half inch apart from each other. You inhaled the citrus off his breath and held perfectly still until Sam finally kissed you again. It was softer than moments before but just as serious, the emotional weight of his lips so much more than the tender movement of them against yours. As kisses went, it was one of the most innocent you’d had—even more than your first kiss ever, middle school boy you’d thought was cute at the roller rink whose braces had caught on your lips—but if this was what Sam could handle it was enough for you, would have to be enough for you. You kissed back only as his mirror and broke away when he did feeling dizzy with complicated restraint.

           “I’m almost there, I’m so sorry, I’m almost there,” he murmured, straight into the inches between you so you could let them soak in. “Please, I’m so sorry, I just—if it’s not real I can’t—”

           You wrapped your hands around his where they held your head. “I know. I know, Sam, I know.”

           Later you wouldn’t remember how you’d moved on to the rest of the day, rhythmically scraping popcorn texture off of drywall while listening to Bikini Kill. But it was a hug and a few tears in a chain of thousands between you, and that was part of it. Like Sam had said, those moments that meant so little on their own and added up over time. You both worked on different chunks of the ceiling and got through a good amount of it. The difference was remarkable, making the cabin look so much cleaner and more modern. After your shoulders got too sore to keep going, Sam threw together a bastardized puttanesca and you both tried really hard to lighten the mood over dinner, ending the evening feeling pretty close to normal.

           When you climbed into bed, Sam leaned over so that his hair fell in a curtain around your face. The closeness took your breath away, and you cursed your body for betraying you like this, unable to focus for the scent of familiar warmth coming off of him and hypnotic color shift of his eyes. For a fleeting second of panic you wondered if he would ever feel protective and safe again or if these shocks of heat—spurred on by what, two chaste kisses?—were all you’d ever feel around Sam again, if you’d be able to sleep knowing how close to tipping over that boundary you were.

           You could tell from the look in his eyes that he was going to apologize and stopped him by resting a finger on his mouth as he opened it to speak. He smiled against your hand, gentle and a little sad, before touching his lips to yours for the third time that day. It felt like some kind of healing burn; a cauterizing iron splitting you in half and reassuring you that scattered into pieces was the way you were supposed to be; giving you permission to crumble into dust, let yourself be swept away trusting that there was a plan for the place that every grain of yourself would land. There was no way to know precisely Sam’s intention, but if it was to send your mind unspooling like a cheap yo-yo about what that fourth, fifth, sixth kiss might feel like, he had succeeded.

           “Thank you,” he whispered, holding your gaze for a moment before turning off the light and fitting himself like a puzzle piece along the curve of your back.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 13

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[roublardise]

ok so hear me out. it's about dean co & sam being oversupportive. and also comphet.

it's very drafty bc it's a shitpost check out my ao3 for better writing <3

--------

Dean hasn’t felt closeted in a very long time. He never truly was, he just avoided talking about it and confronting Sam to the fact he was fucking men. Which was common decency. Switching the stories so they were about women was a move he started doing when Sam assumed Dean was talking about a woman. He just didn’t correct him - not wanting to go into That and let alone with Sam.

He had figured Sam didn’t know for quite some time and he wondered, sometimes, how his brother would react. He’d love for him to shrug it off and say “okay. I think the vampires are in this cabin.” Though it would feel anticlimactic, and maybe wrong? Isn’t coming out supposed to be this whole thing…. It was this whole thing about his gender, with a lot of people, and now he was so tired.

So tired he ended up thinking that, hell, Sam was a smart boy, he could connect the dots. So then Dean just stopped trying to conceal it, and after Benny and Crowley - what was there to add?

A lot, apparently.

.

Dean is only two sips into his coffee when Sam barges in the kitchen, socked feet sliding on the floor and almost making him trip. He does slow down once he crosses the doorway and tries to keep a composure - he takes a few breaths, probably tells himself to be cool.

“With such a rush, you better tell me you’re engaged.”

Sam looks down, then left and right. “Where’s Cas?”

Okay - it’s getting weird. Dean drinks some more and lays back in his chair, giving all the little attention he has to Sam. “Playing harp. What’s with you?”

“Do you…” Sam stops with a sigh. He slightly leans on his side when he starts next. “Eileen is saying…”.

“She better be pregnant.”

Sam rolls his eyes and walks up to the table. He sits in front of Dean and joins his hands in front of him. Dean is starting to think someone died. But then Sam, finally, explains in a rush:

“You and Cas are together like dating-together?”

Dean doesn’t reply right away, simply because… what? “Yeh.”

“Oh.”

Sam looks down again - anywhere but Dean. Might as well go all the way into awkward territory.

“Dude it’s been like, months.” More than that, truly.

“So you…” Sam doesn’t finish this sentence either, but Dean can get the idea.

He shrugs. “Yeh.”

And he expects some speech about acceptance or maybe more questions of why Dean never said anything. And he doesn’t want to have to say he did say stuff, but Sam is apparently unable to perceive it. Does he know Eileen is bi? It’s too early, his coffee is cold, and Dean regrets ever leaving his bed - Cas was right, there was no point.

However Sam only clears his throat, says “okay,” and leaves.

Younger Dean was wrong - it’s not anticlimactic, this short reply is all he ever needed.

.

So it’s not a big deal and Dean never thought it even was something Sam didn’t know - so nothing changes. And Dean doesn’t think much about it.

Except he can’t catch a break, can he?

.

He had time to finish his coffee this time, and he’s just reading in the library when Sam calmly walks to stand in front of him.

“Let me finish my chapter,” Dean says without looking up.

“It’s.. quite important.”

Dean finishes the sentence he was in and drops a finger under the line before staring at Sam. “What?” Sam only puts a gift - wrapped with a ribbon and all - onto his book. Dean frowns. “What’s that? It’s not my birthday.”

“Can’t I give you something just because?”

“You can, but it’s weird.”

“Just open it.”

Dean puts on a show of looking annoyed as he puts the wrapping away, but his façade gives up to a genuine confusion as he notices some fabric, purple and blue standing out until Dean unfolds it to reveal magenta. Oh god no.

He must look confused more than mortified, because Sam tries to explain his train of thought. “It’s hm- the bi flag. Bisexual flag.”

Dean can’t figure what to say. He closes his book and runs a hand on his face. This may be his most uncomfortable coming out.

“Dude-”

“You don’t have to say anything, I know you don’t like the whole.. talking. I just wanted to show that… you can be proud, you know? You don’t have to hide who you love. It’s good with me, and I’m sure it’s good with anyone, and if it’s about dad-”

“Sammy shut up for two seconds.”

Dean gestures for his brother to sit on another sofa in front of him, and he waits for Sam to be settled and perfectly silent before leaning forward. It’s worse than telling Jack about sex.

“I’m not bi”, he states.

“You know, it’s a process, right? Maybe you’re not there yet, I shouldn’t have pushed-”

“I’m gay,” he continues, ignoring Sam.

“Oh sure, it’s fine if you’d rather use this umbrella term.”

Dean is one minute away from praying to Cas to erase this conversation from his memory.

“Are you messing with me or something here? I like dudes.”

“Yeh, I got that-”

“I don’t like women.”

“Oh.”

“Yeh, oh.”

Sam isn’t meeting his eyes, instead staring at the fabric that Dean doesn't know what to do of. Sam’s probably gonna sit with his shame for a few days. It’s not worth making a big deal out of that, but Dean can’t bring himself to say it’s nothing either. It’s still something. The mistake is understandable, in a way. To Sam, Dean had way more stories with women that he actually did. And with Cassie and Lisa, well, Sam never had to know how Dean felt exactly about them. For a brief moment guilt twists into Dean’s guts - that maybe he should have talked about it with Sam… Maybe that’s how this works. But why? It’s not his business.

Dean sighs loudly and opens his book again. “We done here?” He doesn’t mean to dismiss him while looking pissed, but he is genuinely annoyed.

Sam mumbles "yeh, sorry" as he stands up, walking quickly out of the room.

“And, hey, Sammy?” He waits for Sam to meet his gaze. He throws the package back to Sam who catches it but clearly isn't sure what Dean wants him to make of it. Keeping it makes no sense, but throwing it away is too bad. So... "Give that to Eileen."

#spn fic #my stuff #spn #gay dean winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #implied trans dean as usual #spn takes

[fics-of-culture]

Nightmares and Angels

Requested by anonymous

Summary: The littlest Winchester has been experiencing hallucinations and nightmares of her brothers covered in blood. Can a certain whiskey eyed angel come to the rescue?

Words: 2,123

Warnings: Blood, Hallucinations, Nightmares. Reader has PTSD. Possible misrepresentation of mental illness. (I personally don’t have many experiences with PTSD or hallucinations so take everything here with a grain of salt.) 

It was late. And you found yourself milling around the bunker. Again. Trying to find anything to occupy your time with in order to avoid going back to your room. You were positive that if you went to bed you’d have nightmares. You’d been having them a lot recently. Along with some other... issues that you’d yet to address. Today had been especially difficult for you in that regard. Your older brother Dean had been in the kitchen making dinner when you had another one of your ‘attacks’ as you called them. 

“You want bacon on your burger?” Dean turned away from the veggies he’d been chopping to face you. You were seated at the kitchen table, nose buried in a book and just enjoying your brother's company when he had asked. Being caught off guard by the question, you let out a little ‘huh?’ “The burger.” Dean repeated. “You want bacon on it or- Ah shit!” He exclaimed suddenly. You stood from your chair to check on your brother when you saw it. A steady trail of red streamed from his thumb onto the cutting board. Apparently Dean had nicked his finger while he was distracted. You froze in place. Images flashed rapidly before you as Dean grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding. You watched in horror as the blood seeped through the towel. Slowly, it continued to spread until it was running as a steady steam down his arm pooling around his shoes. You took an unsteady step back, priming yourself to run out the door when a pair of fingers snapped in front of you. Dean was staring at you with concern. Hand wrapped in a towel completely devoid of blood. “I said can you get me a bandaid?” Dean asked. Watching you curiously as you stood there. Shaking off your latest trance, you gave Dean a sharp nod before turning to locate your first aid kit.

It wasn’t always like this. Some days were just worse than others. You had gotten so accustomed to seeing your brothers steeped in blood that you had started to see it even when it wasn’t there. Your brothers didn’t know about this. No one did. And you intended to keep it that way. They always looked as though they had the weight of the world on their shoulders and you couldn't bear to stress them out more with your personal problems. You sighed as you wandered into the kitchen. It was empty now. Your brothers had gone to bed hours ago, meaning you could roam around freely without your brothers worrying about why you were up so late. Knowing you’d be awake for a while longer, you decided to brew some coffee. You were pouring yourself a steaming cup of coffee when you heard wings flap behind you.

“Is that for me? Oh sweetheart, you shouldn’t have.” Gabriel speaks in your ear as his arms wrap around you to pull the cup out of your hand. You roll your eyes as you turn to face him. You cross your arms as you stare at the angel who has been your best friend since he’d been ‘brought back to life’. A smug smirk graced his lips as he kept your beverage from you.

“Gabe, that drink does not have nearly enough sugar for it to be for you.” You sass him as you reach out to take your cup back, but he continues to withhold it from you. 

“I’ll tell you what, you give me a little sugar right now and you’ll get this drink back.” You cross your arms and groan in annoyance as the mischievous angel taps a finger to his cheek. “Come on hon, one little kiss and I’ll stop buggin’ ya. Besides, I’ve been gone for weeks! Don’t you wanna welcome me home?” It is true that he had been gone for quite a while. He and Cas had been working overtime in heaven trying to keep the lights on. Uncrossing your arms, you sigh in mock defeat as you step closer to give your favorite angel a kiss on the cheek. He lets out a dramatic gasp as you give him a quick peck. You turn your face slightly to hide the blush spreading on your cheeks. If Gabriel notices your sudden bashfulness, he doesn’t say anything.

“You only get a kiss because I did miss you.” You mutter quietly. Gabe gives you a soft, genuine smile. “Now can I have my drink back?” You raise your arms and make little grabby motions with your hands as you wait for Gabe to give your drink back.

“Hell no!” He basically shouts, showing no concern for the other sleeping tenants of the bunker. He swiftly raises his right hand and snaps the coffee out of existence. Your arms fall to your sides as you regard your friend with a look of betrayal. You open your mouth to whine at him before being quickly cut off. “You have any idea what time it is, sugar? You don’t need coffee. You need sleep.”

“You promised you’d give it back.” You said, giving Gabriel your best pout. Maybe your patented Winchester puppy dog eyes would distract the angel from the lateness of the hour.

“Honey.” Gabriel’s voice was suddenly lacking that playful tone from before. “I know you and the rest of the mystery gang are used to burning the midnight oil, but you need to take care of yourself. Are you guys even on a case right now?”

“No.” You muttered quietly. “But!”

“But nothin’ sweetheart. You gotta go to bed. Unless there's something you’re not telling me?” Gabriel had suspected that something had been up with you for a while, but damn if you weren’t a tough cookie to crack. You just huffed out a little sigh before saying goodnight to Gabriel and heading to your room. You were certainly not interested in explaining your lack of sleep to Gabe. You figured that you could probably get away with loading up Netflix on your laptop and staying up a bit longer, but Gabe was right. You desperately needed sleep. Chuck knows you’d been lacking it for the past couple weeks. You resign yourself to your fate as you get ready for bed. Maybe with Gabe in the bunker, the dreams won’t be so bad you think to yourself as your eyes slide closed.

-

Sam was suddenly woken to the sound of your screams. His bedroom being situated directly across from yours gave him the benefit of being the first one to hear your destress. In less than a second, your brother sprung up from his bed, blankets violently tossed to the side as he rushed toward your room. Once he was in the hall, he shouted once for Dean, but didn’t linger to wait for him. Instead, Sam burst into your room, shotgun in hand. Expecting some sort of intruder, Sam was caught off guard when all he found was you screaming and writhing blindly on your mattress. 

“Y/N!” Sam shouted your name as he rushed to your side. Jostling your shoulder in order to wake you, your brother watched in horror as your eyes opened suddenly, falling upon his face. Instead of his presence soothing you as he thought it would, you instead jerked away from his touch and let out a scream of what he could only describe as haunting despair. From your perspective, you weren’t seeing your sweet brother Sammy as you normally would. Instead, you watched as your brother’s face was covered in blood and contorted in anguish. Desperate to get away from this haunting image, you pulled away from his grasp and pinned yourself to the headboard of the bed. As far away from your concerned brother as possible. Vaguely you recognized that he was speaking to you, but you couldn’t pull away from your panic long enough to hear him. All you could do was stare at the blood pouring down his face, repeatedly jerking away from him each time he tried to touch you or otherwise get near you. A few moments later, you were curled into a ball on your bed when the door swung open once more. It was Dean. He stood there staring at you with a worried expression similar to Sam’s, apparently having heard the ruckus you’d made. But you couldn’t focus on that. All you could see was the copious amounts of blood dripping from what appeared to be a stab wound right where his heart was. Just like when Sam approached, you jerked away from Dean when he got near you. You were unable to do anything in this moment other than tremble and sob at the horrific images of your bloodied brothers before you. You truly tried to calm yourself, but nothing seemed to soothe you. And the presence of your brothers were just making your stress worse. You couldn’t get the picture of your blood soaked brothers out of your head. Subconsciously, you desperately cried out to the only being you thought might be able to save you. You didn’t even register the new presence in your room until you felt the bed dip. Your head jerked up, frantically searching for the new intruder when you saw Gabe. He wasn’t covered in blood or half dead. He was just your Gabriel. You let out a little cry of relief when you saw him. Instantly moving to crawl into his lap for comfort.

“Hey hon, what’s going on?” You hear him whisper as he wraps his arms around you. From your spot in his lap, you couldn’t see the confusion and worry on his face as he tried to figure out what was happening.

“I can’t- I can’t make them stop!” Your voice sounds pathetic to you as you speak frantically. Gabe runs his hand through his hair, not entirely sure what to do. 

“What’re you talking about? What won’t stop?” His hand falls to your head and he lets his fingers card through your hair as you whimper into his chest.

“The hallucinations! I can’t make them go away.” With your head buried in his chest, you don’t see the grim look Gabriel sends your brothers. Your brothers turn to share a look as if to say ‘Did you know about this?’

“What’re you seeing?” He turns his attention back to you. He kept his voice gentle as he spoke to you, not wanting to spook you more than you already are.

“Sam and Dean. Covered in blood. Oh God make it stop.” The trickster was positive he felt his heart break when you said this. He knew you’d been having some sort of problem that you weren’t sharing with him, but he never imagined it was anything this severe. And according to the shocked looks on your brother’s faces, they hadn’t known either. He sucks in a breath and steadies himself, wanting to be confident for you.

“Look again.” He speaks calmly. And you pull away to look him in the eyes for the first time since he arrived. You let out  a little ‘what?’ He’s patient as he speaks to you. “Look at your brothers again. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Hesitantly you do as he says. You turn your head to look at Sam and Dean as they stand helplessly in the corner of your room. Clearly unsure how to help you. To your shock, they looked completely normal. A little ruffled from getting out of bed so suddenly, but they didn’t have a speck of blood on them.

“Ho-how?” You can’t wrap your head around the sudden change. 

“A little angel magic. As long as I’m here, you won’t have to worry about those pesky images.” You let out a little sob as you hugged him with renewed vigor. Gabe cuddled into bed with you and when you seemed calm enough, your brothers left the two of you alone. Dean was grumbling a bit about leaving his little sister alone with the trickster but Sam just shoved him out of the room. You were sure that they were going to have a long talk with you tomorrow, but for now they seemed content to just let you relax.

“Gabriel?” He let out a distracted ‘hmm?’ as his fingers continued to comb through your hair.

“Stay with me tonight?” You spoke so quietly that if Gabe hadn’t been an angel, he wasn’t sure he would’ve heard you.

“Anything for you, sweets.” The two of you made your way under the covers. You laid your head on Gabriel’s chest and slowly allowed yourself to succumb to sleep. Knowing that for the first time in months, you would be getting a peaceful sleep.

#spn #spn gabriel #gabriel #gabriel x reader #gabriel imagine #spn gabriel x reader #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural reader insert #reader insert #fanfic

[sofreddie]

Serendipitous Souls (Part 3)

Summary: Y/N reveals a bit more about herself as the clock winds down to midnight.

Characters: Dean x OC!Reader, Sam

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1,581

A/N: Here's where some of the OC comes into play. Were working to the smut, I promise.

"Two hours," she heard Sam whisper to Dean as Sam glanced at his watch, "I think I'm gonna go lay down," he announced louder to the room, "Chuck twisting my insides really took it out of me," he chuckled, rising from his seat and tucking in the chair. Dean nodded in response, his mind too preoccupied with his own situation.

"And, Y/N?" Sam said, stopping and turning his attention to her with a genuine smile, "Thank you. For saving my life," he said with all sincerity and it made her heart clench. She didn't feel like she had done anything. But in retrospect, she supposed she had.

"You're welcome," she responded with her own soft smile. Sam nodded before heading to his room, leaving the pair in awkward silence.

Y/N sighed, her gaze falling to her hands as she fidgeted with the new ring on her finger.

"Have you ever been married before?" Dean asks.

"I have," she nodded, "Didn't end well though."

"I'm sorry," Dean responded. She merely shrugged in response, "Any kids?"

"Uh, no," she said, meeting his eyes as she flashed him a small smile, "He left because we had trouble conceiving," she huffed a laugh, "But I guess that's not going to be an issue now."

"I feel like everything I say is the wrong thing," Dean confessed defeatedly.

"No, it's fine, really," she finally relaxed, shifting back into her chair like she was ready to settle into the conversation, "They're standard 'get-to-know-you' questions. I just have shitty answers," she smirked at him.

"Mine aren't much better."

"I know."

"Yeah, I guess you do," Dean said with a furrowed brow, remembering she's a fan, of the TV show, about their lives. He shifted in his seat, a look of deep thought crossing his features, "So then I guess you know a lot about us then, right? What we do, how we live, who we are?"

"Well, tell me about you then," Dean shook it off and decided that regardless of how he felt about that information, he couldn't be upset about it. She may be a fan, but she wasn't like Becky, which he was grateful for. For starters, she wasn't squealing with excitement or trying to rub all up on either of them. If anything she was distant and trying to avoid or pull away from touch as much as possible. He supposed she still could be like that. But he just didn't feel like she was.

"Uh, well," she laughs and blushes and Dean thinks he likes the sound and look of that. It's such a stark contrast to the somber mood they've been experiencing, "Actually, it's kinda of funny-not-funny, but, uh," she chuckles again, this time seemingly embarrassed and Dean's chest feels warm, "I always felt that your existence-slash-nonexistence was like some big cosmic joke. A-and it turns out it really is!"

She's full-on laughing now and Dean's pretty sure it's a mix of the alcohol and a few hysterics. He reaches a hand across the table, resting it atop one of hers in an attempt to ground her.

"Why is it a joke?" Of all the things she could've said, that's certainly not one he expected. A joke? How could it possibly be a joke?! He remains calm and holds her gaze when she raises her head to meet his eyes. She sighs heavily and pouts and his eyes flit to her lips before quickly going back to her eyes.

"Because," she half-groans, half-whines, slumping back into her chair and removing herself from his touch. He kind of misses the feel of her already. She groans and a series of expressions cross her face and Dean realizes he can read that look. That look says 'let's rip off this bandaid and get it over with'.

"Because, my whole life I've felt so alone, so misunderstood, so out of place," she began. And all Dean can think is, 'Yeah, 'cause you were supposed to be with me'. "I'm the oldest sibling," she starts and Dean thinks he sees where this is going, "My sister? Is four years younger than me. Just like Sam is to you. And me too, by the way. I was born about seven months after Sam," she says with a light blush and a shake of her head, getting herself back on track as she rambles. Dean thinks he likes listening to her talk, even if she is rambling. She's so animated and he's enjoying just quietly taking her all in.

"I also have a younger brother, who's a year younger than my sister," she took a deep breath and Dean's eyes trailed down her neck and to her heaving collarbone peeking out from the top of her shirt. He decided she had a very nice collarbone.

"Both my parents worked all the time, demanding jobs with long hours just to pay the bills. So I was left in charge of my siblings," Dean's eyes snapped to hers and he felt a deep empathy. That was a life experience he was all too familiar with. "I had to cook and clean and do chores and walk them to school and home again. I was this weird third parent to my siblings and this sort of peer to my parents. It was a weird in-between to live in," she complained with a pained expression. Dean wanted to smooth away the crease in her brow.

"There's life experiences that are so precise and unusual, but somehow we share those things in common. When I first watched the show and discovered you," she shook her head, that embarrassed blush returning and Dean realized it kissed her collarbone. He wondered how far it went. "I didn't like you at first," Dean frowned at that, "You were too pretty, too cocky, too 'devil-may-care'," she smirked, "But after you came back from-" she hesitated with a wary glance, "-you know- you were different. And I saw you different. There was somehow more to you, more revealed. So I watched more," she explained.

"And then I quickly realized: here's this person - who has been through the same things as me, the same unusual things that make me so different, so difficult to understand. Here's someone I've been looking for my whole life. Finally! Someone who could truly understand me," she smiled but it wasn't happy as her eyes were filled with tears, "A-and he's a fictional character. It was the most painful cosmic joke ever!"

Several tears fell from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks, dripping off her jaw and chin. She shook her head to come to her senses, quickly and roughly cleaning up her face with her hands and shirt.

He froze, processing her words and how broken she looked over the whole thing. For the life of him, he could only think to say one thing.

"Y/N," he rose from his chair and walked over to her, swinging her chair sideways and crouching in front of her, "I'm right here."

"What?" she mumbled, sniffing away the last of her tears as she looked down at him in confusion.

He shifted, kneeling between her parted legs and resting his hands on her knees.

"I get where you're coming from. And I know how you feel. I get it," he emphasized, squeezing her knees, "I don't know how all this is gonna go or play out," he sighed, shaking his head, "But I know we're in this together, forever," he held up his hand to show his ring before placing it back on her knee, "But if you feel like you need me, for whatever reason…I'm right here. I can be that for you."

"You don't have to," she tried to backtrack and Dean shook his head, moving closer into her and moving his hands to her lower back, keeping her close and focused on him.

"Beyond tonight, we don't have to be anything if that's what you really want," he offered, "But I figure, if we're in this anyway, then why not try?" he shrugged, "Maybe it'll work out and we can be happy. Maybe it won't and we find we're better as friends. I don't know. But I'm willing to find out."

"Just like that?" she was skeptical, but wishful all the same. He was a million times more attractive and distracting at close proximity. His eyes. They were a force of nature all their own and she knew - especially as a fangirl - that she should've seen it coming. But somehow - despite the comments from others who had gone to conventions or the fans who wrote fic after fic about his eyes in painstaking detail - she was not prepared for the depth and captivity of those intense eyes.

"You and I," he said, gesturing between them with one hand while the other remained on her back, "We literally share a soul. We are literally two pieces that make a whole," he chuckled and shook his head, a broad smile adorning his face and she felt her heart stutter and damn near stop for a few beats, "I have to believe that means something. I feel like it does. So I'll trust in that and see where it takes us."

She was surprised and amazed at his confidence, the surety of his statements and confessions. How could he be so okay with it? He so quickly resigned to this 'fate'.

She swallowed hard, very aware of his hands on her - respectfully, but still there.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

Dean Winchester:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

Serendipitous Souls:

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@xhannahbananax03

@440mxs-wife

@crist1216

#serendipitous souls #dean x reader #dean winchester #reader-insert #oc!reader #supernatural #spn

[katelyn--renee]

Out of the Fire (Part two)

Title: Out Of The Fire (Part two)

Fandom: Supernatural AU

Main Characters series: Reader, Lieutenant Firefighter!Dean Winchester, Lawyer!Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester (Moore), Nurse!Lisa Braeden (Formerly Winchester), Ben Braeden-Winchester, Harper Winchester (OFC), Charlie Bradbury, Firefighter!Benny Lafitte, Firefighter!Jo Harvelle, Firefighter!Castiel Novak, Claire Novak, Mechanic!John Winchester, Firefighter Captain!Ellen Harvelle, Mechanic!Bobby Singer, Doctor!Arthur Ketch, Nick Vaught and many more!

Pairings: Dean x Reader (eventual), Dean x Lisa (past), Reader x Nick (past), Lisa x Ketch (current), Sam x Jessica (current)

Word count: ±2200 words

Series summary: A slow burn romance. Reader is trying to get away from her troubled past and start fresh; a new name, new town, new friends, and a new job. A clean slate. After years of planning and saving, she is able to open her own business. With the help of her best friend and business partner, Charlie Bradbury, and her new flirty firefighter friend, she is hopeful, even when disaster strikes and her past threatens to catch up with her years later. 

Part two summary: Flashback to when you first met your green eyed hero and their budding romance. 

Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fire or mentions of fire, fluff (so much fluff), angst, eventual smut, mutual pining, alcohol abuse, alcohol intoxication, mentions of domestic abuse (physical, verbal), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of adultery/cheating, mentions of death, dangerous or life threatening situations, stress, descriptions of injuries, blood, hospital scenes, character death. 

Author’s note: Here is part two! I hope you enjoy this chapter and all it’s fluffy goodness! :)

A special thank you to @that-one-gay-girl and @deanwanddamons for being the wonderful beta’s that you are! Your feedback is always appreciated! Check out their awesome work and spread some love!

All graphics and dividers done by me! :)​

If you like this story, please don’t hesitate to leave a like, comment and if you’re feeling extra generous, share! Your feedback gives me live and motivation! If you would like to be tagged in the series, please don’t hesitate to ask!

Thank you and let’s enjoy this ride together!

<<-- Read part one, here!

Out of the Fire Masterlist!

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

About five weeks ago.

The shop was busier than usual, but being the final days of summer, it was expected. It wasn't anything you or Charlie  couldn't handle, of course, but it sure did make for long days and even longer nights of cleanup. 

"Charlie, table two needs refills, table six never got their vanilla lattes, and table four is ready to pay." You announced as you joined your partner behind the counter with a handful of dirty mugs and plates, having just made one of many rounds through the seating area.

The two of you danced around each other gracefully, moving in harmony as you switched from one task to another. “On it.” She acknowledged, already preparing the missing drinks and throwing in a complimentary pastry for the mistake.

You set the pile of dishes down into the sink before turning to the next customer in line, flashing him a friendly smile. “Yes, hi, how can I help you?” You greeted urgently, looking up to meet a set of stunning green eyes. You faltered slightly, taken by surprise by his strikingly good looks.

He smiled, almost bashfully, as he began to place his order, seeming not to notice your hesitation. “A round of coffees, black, for me and my buddies ,” He motioned toward the booth near the large bay window which was occupied by three other bodies; two men and one woman, all of whom adorned matching uniforms. “Cream and sugar on the side. Oh, uh, larges… or eh, talls?” He added with a sheepish chuckle, clearly unfamiliar with the coffee house lingo.

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent yourself from smiling more and potentially embarrassing him. “Venti.” You corrected him playfully. You saw the confused look on his face, his head cocking like a confused puppy, before adding, “For our ‘large,’” 

You used air quotes to emphasize your point, rolling your eyes at the technical terminology. “It’s venti.” You saw it the moment he understood what you were telling him, and he chuckled again, not missing the way he ducked his head to hide the slight flush to his freckled cheeks.

 “Never too old to learn something new.” He chuckled again and winked at you, the gesture setting butterflies loose inside of your stomach. It was your turn to look away this time, your face hot with a blush. He fished his wallet from his dark blue cargo pants, looking at the assortment of baked goods.

“Throw in a few of those bagels and croissants, too, please.” He added, casting his gaze down at the display case once again. “Oh, and a piece of that cherry pie.” He added almost dreamily, pulling out a couple of twenties. 

Upon further inspection, you took notice of the soot and ash that dirtied his face and darkened his hair in certain places. He had dark circles under his gorgeous eyes, too, clearly exhausted after a long shift. You glanced in the direction of his crew members, finding much of the same. “Long night?” You asked, trying to be friendly as much as you were curious.

“I look that rough, huh?” He teased, a look of mock offense accompanying his handsome features.

 You shook your head, a smile still curving your lips at the corners, “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that.” You clarified hastily as you calculated his order  into the register, making a point to leave off the coffees; it was the least you could do for him… eh, them, right?  

He winked again and laughed, the sound deep in his chest, assuring you that he was only teasing. “I know you didn’t,” The corner of his mouth turned up into a smile, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, watching your face and the way you tried to suppress your smile. “How much do I owe you, sweetheart?” He asked, glancing down at the display screen. 

The term of endearment made your heart flutter slightly, and you couldn’t keep the smile from creeping onto your face again. You swallowed the feeling down, pressing the enter key before you read aloud his total. 

“That’ll be $19.94, Mr. Firefighter.” He rose a questioning brow at the total, glancing up at the menu prices. “Coffee’s on the house.” You added quickly with a closed-lip smile, your eyes sincere. “It’s the least I can do for your services.” 

Several emotions seemed to make their way across his face, contorting it briefly before settling on gratitude. “Thank you.” He said, his voice genuine. He held out one of the twenty-dollar bills, paying for his order. “That was really kind of you, truly.” He smiled softly, glancing down at the name tag attached to your apron. “(Y/N).”

A smile formed on your lips before you could stop it, and your cheeks flushed at the way he said your name, your eyes finding the name embroidered onto the left side of his dark blue button-up shirt, opposite of a silver badge over his heart. Red patches were on either sleeve, proudly showing off the station they serve. “It’s no trouble, Lieutenant Winchester...” You promised with a sly smile. 

He laughed, appreciating your observation. “Dean.” He insisted as you accepted the bill. Your fingers touched, brushing against each other softly. The touch, however slight, was like an electric shock, igniting every part of your body. 

There was an annoyed grunt behind the firefighter, but the two of you paid little attention to it. You put the money into the till and collected his change, but Dean insisted that he didn’t need it. He walked backwards to his table, his bottom lip drawn up between his teeth. The two of you couldn’t seem to stop watching each other, nor did you want to, silently flirting with your eyes. 

You giggled when he bumped into an unoccupied table, watching as he almost knocked over its contents and awkwardly fumbled with the accompanying chair that nearly fell over. He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled self-consciously, trying to conceal his embarrassment. He ducked his head when he got back to his table, his friends giving him a hard time. 

He hid his face in his palms as a dark-haired man with scruff and blue eyes clapped a hand against Dean’s shoulder, booming with laughter. “Smooth,” You heard the blonde female tease, snickering at her partner. You watched them as you gathered up their order, blushing when you caught him stealing a few glances your way. When finished, you brought their order out to them personally, earning you another wink from the fireman.

The rest of the shift went by in a blur, unable to get those emerald eyes out of your head. Charlie had seemed to notice your distraction and, in perfect Charlie fashion, commented on it as you were closing up shop. “That fireman sure left his mark on you, huh?” She teased, a knowing smile drawing her lips up. 

You scoffed at her and tried to play it off like you didn’t know what she was talking about… and failing. “W-What? No - No, I - Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Charlie.” You muttered, locking the doors and placing the keys into your pocket.

She looked skeptical and cocked her hip, propping a hand there. “Uh-huh, sure.” She stated, waving her hands. “And I’m not the Queen of Mordor.” She said sarcastically, “Oh wait, I am.” She said exaggeratedly with her hands thrown in the air, referencing her extracurricular activity of LARPing. 

You rolled your eyes fondly at your best friend; she’d dragged you along to her LARPing weekends on more than one occasion, and you’d humored her, going along with it because it made Charlie happy. “You can’t fool me, sista, now spill the beans.” She insisted, following behind you with the broom as the pair of you cleaned up.

You sighed, wiping down one of the tables and the chairs that joined it, already knowing that you wouldn't win this battle against the feisty redhead. “I don’t know…” You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip as you thought about the encounter. “I can't explain it, I don’t know how to explain it… but there was just something about him… y'know?" You recalled, picking up one of the chairs and putting it on the table. "I just… I can’t quite put my finger on it…"

Charlie giggled, "Bet you wish you could." She teased, clearly hinting at more than she said. You gasped and feigned innocence, throwing the towel at her. Charlie laughed more, catching the soiled cleaning cloth before it collided with her face. "Oh, come on (Y/N)! I know that look in a woman's eye. I’ve seen it dozens of times! You want him. Bad!"

She threw the cloth back, and you caught it with ease. "Jeez, you make me sound so desperate." You grumbled, not denying Charlie's observation, despite the dramatics. 

Charlie hadn't missed a beat, and she grinned, a cocky sparkle in her eyes. "So you do like him." She chimed accusingly, clearly happy to be right.

You rolled your eyes again, moving onto the next table as Charlie continued sweeping under the one you'd just cleared. "Okay. Yeah, fine." You admitted, "I thought he was cute and charming and sexy in that uniform," 

Charlie made an ‘I-knew-it’ face, but you continued before she could make a sly remark, "But it doesn't matter. It's not like I'm ever gonna see him again." You stated with a reluctant sigh, spraying down the next table with the cleaning agent, trying to hide the disappointment lingering in your voice. You began to scrub at a stubborn spot on the table, trying to distract yourself.

Charlie frowned sadly, reading into your mood, and leaned the broom down against the table before closing the space between you. "I'm sorry for being pushy. It's just that you work all the time. When was the last time you did anything for yourself?" You were about to answer when she held up a finger, "Other than this café. This doesn't count, this is work." 

She had a point. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done anything that didn't involve this little shop. "Exactly. I just wanna see you have some fun and that," She thumbed over her shoulder toward the door, referring to Dean, "was fun." You chuckled softly, your cheeks getting warm at the thought. 

"You deserve to live a little,” She put her arms on your shoulders and squeezed affectionately, “Especially after what that snake put you through." You frowned at the reminder, dread coiling inside of your stomach and a frown pulled at your lips at the mention of your ex, Nick. 

Like always, Charlie didn’t let you get too lost in your thoughts, "And who knows, maybe he has an equally attractive sister for me." She added with a playful shrug and a giggle, effectively distracting you. "Fate works in mysterious ways, sista; you never know what she might throw your way." She added mysteriously, wiggling her eyebrows for added effect. 

As it turns out, Charlie was right. Fate did work in mysterious ways because, in the weeks that followed, Dean continued to show up, sometimes with his crew, but mostly by himself. The times he showed up varied, depending on his work scheduled, which you soon noticed was quite busy. Regardless of the hour, he always showed. 

It wasn't long before you memorized his order by heart; a venti coffee, black, and a slice of pie; whichever flavor was baked for the day's special. The flavor never seemed to be an issue for the firefighter, but it didn’t take you long to realize that cherry was clearly his favorite, with pecan  a close second. 

The pair of you flirted and subtly got to know each other as time went on, teetering somewhere between acquaintances and friends. He’d flirt. You’d flirt. But it never went any further than that.

Charlie teased you about it the whole time, of course. She wouldn’t be your best friend if she hadn’t. You’d just roll your eyes or shake your head every time she’d urge you to "grow a pair and ask him out already." 

You wanted to. Of course, you wanted to; you’d be an idiot not to want that.

But you didn't, of course, because you were too embarrassed and too afraid to act on your feelings. You'd done that once before already, and you paid one hell of a price for it. Hell, in a way, you still were. Nick left such a nasty scar on your heart; you weren't sure if you could ever love again. You were in a constant state of fear, afraid of being hurt again.

Charlie, being the wonderful best friend that she is, always tried to remind you that love… true love… would never hurt you. That real love was the stuff of magic and fairy tales. That what you had with Nick wasn’t love. It helped, a little, but that fear never truly went away, you just sort of learned to live with it.

Maybe someday you’ll feel differently.

And there you have it. Part two is complete. I hope you enjoyed that chapter as much as I did. Awkward/adorable Dean is one of my favs. Haha. 

As always, thanks for reading! 

Read part three, here! -->>

Taglist!

Supernatural

@akshi8278​

Out of the Fire (series)

@vicmc624 // @anotherspnfanfic // @krazykelly // @compresshischest09 // @thefamilybusiness  

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural au #dean winchester #dean x reader #firefighter!dean #firefighter au #firefighter dean #firefighter #firefighter series #supernatural series #out of the fire #part two #series #katelynw93 #katelyn writes #kate writes #SPN #spnfandom #spnfamliy #spnfanficpond #SPN fanfiction #spn au #spn #dean #fluff

[amwritingmeta]

15x20: New Beginnings

I’d like to speak of the cause and effect of the ending.

I agree that the execution could’ve been skewered just a tiny bit and it would’ve made the overall impression more palatable, but assuming production was at the very least hampered by COVID restrictions, we know that this wasn’t actually Dabb’s final vision. It’s what we’ve got, though, and it still leaves us with a lot of tying up of narrative threads. 

How?

We have a final image of Dean and Sam together and I understand why this is irksome and why it feels regressive. Here’s why I think it actually isn’t:

Dark Side of the Moon tells us that Dean and Sam are most definitely not soulmates meant to share a Heaven. Dean’s memories are focused on Sam while Sam’s memories are completely devoid of Dean. Dean also needs to find Sam (and is helped to do so by Cas). Ie. they brothers are not in a shared Heaven, the way Jimmy and Amelia and Mary and John are highlighted to be.

We also know that Heaven’s system is basically a prison for the mind of the souls of those who have died, right? You get stuck in your best memories. This is simply Heaven’s idea of benevolence, because Heaven, and the angels, have never understood how much choice and free will matter to humanity.

So. No matter how much Dean and Sam succeeded in saving the world throughout our narrative, they were still always headed for forced separation and this prison for their minds and being filed away behind one of those white doors, in essence ceasing to exist, and the point of all their trials and tribulations would have been what? Living a long and happy life, only to die and go to what Dean wouldn’t have chosen for himself with a gun to his head? Eternally brainwashed into thinking he’s content? 

Can you think of anything more horrible to be waiting at the end of their road?

So the point to this ending we got is, to me, gloriously clear and it’s this:

The journeys of these men, throughout this entire narrative, made the new Heaven possible. 

This new Heaven, where there’s freedom of choice and endless possibility for exploration. Where human souls are now granted an afterlife worth actually living, where everyone can reconnect with the people they’ve cared about, the people they’ve loved. 

(Buddhists have six Heavens and believe life exists on multiple planes meaning when you die you simply transcend to the next plane where there’s more living to be done) (Swedish children’s author Astrid Lindgren explored the death of two brothers through sacrifice and illness in her novel The Brothers Lionheart and in the mythology of this book the first Heaven one enters just after death is called Nangijala, and once you die in Nangijala you move onto Nangilima and so on) (etc.) 

What we get in the Supernatural mythos is that there’s no more prison for the mind. No more only soulmates get a shared Heaven: ie. family genuinely doesn’t end in blood.

So look at what this means for the entire structure of our narrative and our character journeys -->

The Road 

If Dean and Sam hadn’t been codependent, they wouldn’t have made those bad choices that brought Cas into the narrative. 

If Cas hadn’t been influenced by Dean to rebel and start making bad choices of his own, he never would’ve made Heaven fall apart by trying to stitch it together and teach angels free will and stepping into a leader role he wasn’t quite ready for, and he wouldn’t have begun on the journey that brought him right to the moment when he expressed his need of bringing back a win for Dean, and for himself.

That win, turns out, was Jack. 

Cas’ faith in Jack, Cas fighting for Jack, Cas feeling responsible and stepping into the Good Father Figure in order to keep his promise to Kelly and protect Jack was what led to Cas making a bad deal with the Empty, but that bad deal also left Cas with the opportunity to save Dean’s life when death was threatening to break down that door and kill them both.

The remarkable truth that’s added to this moment is that Cas’ journey has brought him to a place in his progression where he’s no longer afraid of his feelings, he’s no longer questioning them or thinking they mean a weakness he shouldn’t let define him, because he realises that what he needs isn’t Dean to love him back for that love to be real, to be valuable and valid. His fear of alienating Dean through loving him is the lie. That’s where his happiness stems from, him recognising and finally embracing this truth. 

Because the love he feels isn’t a weakness. It never was: it’s his strength. It’s always guided him, even when he didn’t realise it.

And the strength of it lets him tell Dean exactly how he sees him and that he loves him, and opening up to and being honest with himself is what allows Cas to integrate with his shadow. The Empty takes him, but Cas is at peace, because he no longer fears and avoids his unconscious, he no longer needs to engage in suppression and repression of his emotions, and so his shadow no longer holds any sway over him, which is a fact given to us by how Cas’ ending in this narrative means him being free of the Empty. 

A freedom that never would have been granted, never would have been possible, without his faith in, his fighting for and his protection of Jack.

Cas’ words to Dean makes Dean begin his final steps into integration as well, meaning Cas’ declaration of love directly affects the outcome of the fight against Chuck, because Dean wants Cas back, but it’s not everything he’s focused on, since it shouldn’t be everything he’s focused on. 

It can’t be, since there are bigger fish to fry, and because of Cas’ view of him, Dean is opening up to his true self, to trust, to having faith in himself, which allows for a letting go of the need for control and thinking it’s all on him and everything is his responsibility or everyone dies. 

Thanks to this, we get Dean in teamwork mode with Sam and Jack, the three of them together figuring out how to manipulate Michael into bringing Chuck to them in order for Jack to de-power him. 

Dean’s integration is complete, and given to us through the symbology of his inner child (Jack) sucking the power out of his shadow (Chuck) and is then underlined by the ego (Dean) telling his de-powered shadow that it’s to be forgotten. Dean’s shadow, which has fed on and also fuelled the need in Dean for repression and suppression, no longer holds any sway over him. 

And Dean’s understanding and embracing of his true identity is highlighted by how he refuses to kill Chuck. 

Because that’s not who Dean is: he’s not a killer. He’s internalised Cas’ view of him. Cas’ truth making way for Dean’s own truth to shine a light. 

Dean is done with self-denial. And self-destruction. 

Which is what 15x20 is all about: that lack of self-destruction and the finality of goodbye.

Because Dean being shown to accept the finality of the loss of Cas has such direct bearing on Dean’s ability to accept the finality of saying goodbye to his brother.

The Greatest Love Story Ever Told

All of this, all of it, is because of and thanks to Cas’ LOVE for Dean. 

Thanks to the moment that allowed Cas to express it and to SEE Dean for who he truly is. 

Thanks to the moment of Cas’ integration we get Dean integrating.

And it’s so beautiful that it’s the loss of Cas this time that allows for Dean to do this, because he’s always plummeted into despair without Cas. His progression has slowed to a crawl without Cas in the narrative. His entire sense of self, his entire source of faith in anything, being drained out of him. 

This has been romantic and lovely and fabulous, but it’s also so unhealthy. 

Dean being shown to mourn, to want Cas back, to expect Cas at the end of that phone call, only for him to move away from the need and want to have Cas back, recognising that it’s possible Cas’ return is now an improbability and choosing to look to the future, because now he’s feeling worthy of a future, this is such an important detail for the love story to move from profound bond territory...

(where Cas used the bond forged by Heaven as an excuse for why he kept hanging around Dean) (Dean was his charge, his mission, he was meant to protect him) (a view shattered by Hester in S8) (and properly dismantled by the human!Cas arc) (at least the way I see it because that’s where Cas got that love he feels brought into actual stark relay like oh fuck I’m in love with him)

...to the healthy, selfless, loving side to that bond, which isn’t about self-deception, miscommunication and fear, but about blowing all of that apart, letting feelings flow freely, opening up to the truth of them, the strength of them, and these two men being able to finally free themselves of all those past doubts by embracing their true identities.

I realise there’s frustration that we only got part-textual Destiel. I felt it too. But I never expected canon Destiel. I hoped and wished, but up until Cas’ declaration of love, I questioned whether the studio would be onboard, and it turns out they weren’t okay with making SPN an overtly queer narrative. Was Cas’ declaration of love baiting or BYG? I hope my meta reading in this post will tell you how little I feel it was.

So then. Letting go of the initial shock of it all, I’m leaning on what I did expect: the love story so strongly highlighted in the subtext that we were all left with zero doubt that we’d been seeing it there for a reason.

Subtext is part of the text. For any writer worth their salt, subtext is more important than the surface text. Text without subtext is flat and dull. The text we’ve been dealing with for fifteen years has always had layers upon layers.

These final three episodes, as I’ve already pulled on above, brings it in spades and our subtext tells us plainly:

Dean Winchester is in love with Castiel, just as much as Castiel is in love with him. 

How does it tell us this plainly?

Cas is finally able to integrate because he opens up to the truth he’s carried with him for so long: his love for Dean. Unconditional. He no longer needs Dean to say it back, to validate the emotion, Cas is realising that happiness in the feeling itself, in acknowledging it and allowing it free rein. Cas moves into making peace with himself, for himself.

Now, we know Cas loves Dean because, well, declared, but why is it plain that Dean loves Cas back?

Firstly, because of the episode being entirely structured around people in love losing one half. That’s as much of an in-our-faces use of mirroring as underlining of the subtextual love story that we’ve ever gotten from Berens. 

Even stronger than the mirroring, for me, is the fact that Cas’ love for Dean allows Dean to finally move into integration. 

Cas’ words infuse Dean with a sense of self-worth that immediately paves way for him beginning to have all that faith in himself that Cas has always represented to him. The build from 15x18 through to 15x20 is like a gentle moving away from Cas being the external source of Dean’s faith, to Cas’ love and expressed faith revealing Dean’s internal source of faith in himself.

A source which has been suppressed and repressed out of a whole layer of different fears, which have in turn brought on the belief that a toxic masculinity armour was necessary for survival and that all feelings are weaknesses, but because of Cas’ faith in him, because of Cas’ expressed love, Dean is able to no longer need an external source of faith, because he’s now internalised and embraced the truth of what makes him who he is.

Just like Cas is shown to do, we’re given Dean recognising that the love he feels isn’t a weakness, but a strength, because Cas’ words is about Dean’s capacity for LOVE. It’s this love that takes away Chuck’s ability to tell Dean who he is. 

No one can tell you who you are -- you choose who to be. 

For his entire life, right up until that moment in that room with Cas, facing death (literally) all Dean can see himself as is someone who can do nothing and who knows nothing except how to give into his anger (he’s never been able to control it because he’s never recognised the source of it) and find something to kill.

This view of himself has been constantly whispered to him and reinforced by his unconscious, his Shadow-side, who’s kept Dean thinking that he doesn’t have good things last for him, ever, so he can’t have love in his life or a future to look forward to, because he doesn’t deserve it. A perpetual emotional roundabout where his Shadow-side has stayed in complete control.

One might argue this has always been the source of Dean’s anger: his inability to dare open up to his true identity that has kept the toxic masculinity armour in place, kept the performance up, kept him more often than not lying even to himself of who he is and who he wants to be, because he never felt there was a choice in the matter. 

Truly allowing himself to recognise and feel all that longing for love that’s been like a tight ball in his chest always, meant giving into weakness meant getting Sammy killed or himself or both of them meant failure.

But the only way to beat back and conquer our Shadow-side is by recognising and accepting our flaws and no longer feeling unworthy because of them.

That’s what Cas’ words and his love does for Dean. 

That’s right there in the subtext: Dean, even in the moments before certain death, being unable to open up to the truth of who he is and what really drives him; Dean needing his external source of faith, this man that he’s loved for a long time, to tell him that how he sees himself is wrong, to afford him a different view of himself, to bring the truth to light so that Dean can finally feel worthy it, because Dean couldn’t beat his Shadow back on his own, his dark view of himself was much too ingrained for that.

It had to be Cas. The narrative tells us it always had to be Cas. And so it is Cas who saves Dean from himself. And saves Dean’s life. And saves Dean from having to spend his afterlife in a prison of the mind.

Love wins.

And Cas only ever entered the narrative due to Dean’s need to Protect Sammy at all costs, because that has always been such a huge identity marker for Dean, his entire self-understanding and sense of self tied to whether he can keep his brother alive and out of harms way, which, as he grows up, then translates itself into Dean’s enormous capacity for selflessness and caring about others. 

His core trait was never weapon, it was shield. It was protector. Stemming directly from all that love he carries around and can’t allow himself to feel because it means weakness and that means death and that means he’s failed and is worthless and around it has always gone.

And would always have gone, too. If not for Cas.

Love fucking WINS.

I mean. DAMN! It’s so gorgeous.

(this angle still holds even if Dean in any way was ever meant to actually reciprocate in that scene, because it’s made so clear to us how Cas never expects Dean to say it back) (if Dean is meant to say it back and the love story is meant to be textual that would be mind-blowing head-exploding joyful news) (but it doesn’t change the subtextual move away from unhealthy holding on to healthy letting go) (the textual would only ever strengthen the fact that we have subtextual confirmation) 

But what about...?

Yeah, but what about that ending then? What about the last twenty minutes? What about all the focus on the brothers? 

Was the execution of the finale perfect? No, I wouldn’t say it was, but I could see, when I watched the finale again on the 21st, that there was efforts made to make something good enough. Something geared toward tying our narrative up as best as possible with the means presented to Dabb. 

I understand why people feel stuff is missing.

Because stuff is missing. Dabb told us they had to change the ending, that they were supposed to have a whole lot of people back to populate Dean’s Heaven. Found family galore. Misha said the same thing. They couldn’t (I’m not going to speculate on why, it’s just clear that they couldn’t) and so the ending had to be modified. To me that’s fairly plain in how it’s structured.

Did they have to focus so hard on the brothers?

Well... given the restrictions, I think this was the only way to end this narrative, because the story has always been centred on these two brothers and the bad choices and sacrifices they’ve made, and the blood, sweat and tears they’ve shed in order to remain together.

Their absolute inability to let the other go actually kick-started their onscreen journey.

Because this is a story about dependency, and letting go of that dependency to make way for a healthy, equal coexisting; which is what, to me, that final shot is all about.

Should Cas and Jack have been there? Sure! There will always be stuff missing from the final two eps that I’ll wonder about. Like, if Cas was never meant to be in the story (as per Misha he was but let’s say for argument’s sake) then why didn’t Dean just ask, very calmly, in 15x19 of Jack our New God: “What about Cas?” and then Jack our New God could’ve answered gently, but plainly: “He’s at peace.” Simple. Why didn’t we get an establishing of Eileen as Sam’s wife? And it would’ve helped so much to have Charlie and Stevie reestablished in the visual narrative as alive, however plain it is to me that Jack will have brought them back with everyone else who were away-ed by Chuck.

Sure, there could’ve been more.

But what I love about that final shot of the brothers is this canonical fact:

It would not have been possible without Cas. 

Cas learning and growing and integrating to the point that he knows exactly how to fix the home he’s broken more than once, and how to bring free will, at long last, to Heaven, to the benefit of humanity.

And Dean’s little sideways smile (his “I want this smile”) when Cas is mentioned, when he realises that Heaven is different thanks to Cas, well, isn’t that just the darnedest thing? 

*forever headcanon that Dean was expecting to see Cas again somewhere somehow he just didn’t know when and now... here Cas is* 

When Cas went, it took a little time to adjust, but Dean let go of Cas and didn’t make a deal and didn’t go crazy or self-destructive, there was no nosediving into depression, because Cas’ words made those types of coping mechanisms no longer necessary. 

Dean drinks and indulges at the start of 15x19 because he’s still processing, but by 15x20 Cas’ words have been fully internalised, Dean has integrated, and he’s looking to the future. Set on living, because otherwise he’d render Cas’ sacrifice meaningless.

Dean’s death has zero blaze and glory to it. He didn’t expect this day to be the day. But it is. And he accepts it. And because he does, because he’s open and honest with his brother, because he tells Sam all the words he needs Sam to carry with him, gives Sam all the faith in himself that Cas left Dean with, he’s brought to a Heaven that has been readied for him by the love of his life. 

Cas is right there. And he’s been waiting. And he’s used his time well, because Heaven is now the afterlife that Dean deserves. The ultimate salvation. Love and happiness and companionship and LOVE LOVE LOVE. Forever.

If that isn’t the biggest reward for the both of them after everything they’ve been through, I don’t even know what is!

Sam arriving is a given, but I have to say I genuinely do not see Sam as living his life in pain and grief. He’s happy. He loves his kid. He’s a good father. Just like Dean was, and Bobby, and Cas. All the Good Father figures threaded through 15x20. And this narrative has been about these two brothers. It ending on them together, at peace, feels fitting. 

Yeah, but shouldn’t Dean have gotten to live his life?

Sure, this is my interpretation 100%, but Dean’s death feels softly ironic and fitting because it is unexpected. 

I can’t hit on this enough: there’s no blaze and glory.

Dean was ready to make the most of life, but through accepting death and accepting separation from Sam, Dean is brought into the same moment Cas was brought into, a moment of recognising what’s important, where Dean opens up fully to vulnerability and hands over his trust and faith in that Sam will be fine without him, which pushes Sam into the same integration that Cas’ words afforded Dean. Voicing trust and faith will do that for a person.

And Sam’s arc was always dependent, narratively, on the progression of Dean’s arc, so it makes a lot of narrative sense that this needed to happen for Sam to get pushed out of the nest and forced into having proper faith in himself. Because there’s no other choice. 

He’s left doing what he has to and it results in a balance between that family life he’s always wanted (foreshadowed in 15x01) and staying aware of and raising his son to be aware of the reality of their world, given to us via the tattoo on Dean Jr.’s wrist. (oofta I wish he’d had a different name but since everything had to be done in the visual narrative it’s the easiest way to connect us with Dean still being present in Sam’s life so I get it)

There’s also that romantic in me that feels as though Dean is greatly rewarded for all his suffering and struggles, for all those years of living his life in fear and feeling as though he doesn’t matter by not only bringing him into a Heaven he made possible, but by reuniting him with the love of his life and this time they’re equally immortal, equally made of light, equally eternal, equally integrated and balanced and ready to accept all that love and happiness.

That just makes me fucking happy. For them both.

Bring on the New Beginnings

The fact that the narrative has opened itself up to being interpreted as somehow glorifying death or saying that happiness can only be found in death is distressing, but I hope that the threads I’ve pulled on here gives enough of a basis for me to say how I truly feel like this is simplifying why the choice was made for Dean to die.

It’s not about happiness only being found in death. 

It’s not about devaluing living your life, it’s about the idea, the soft hope, even the narrative promise that death, for our characters, not for humanity as a whole, but for these specific men, who have always avoided it and made bad deals and feared separation and been brought into a crisis of identity (Dean because he doesn’t know who he is without Protect Sammy as purpose and Sam because he genuinely and continuously seem convinced that he can’t hunt without Dean to lead the way) whenever death has touched them have now reached a point where the separation is an accepted part of life.

And this acceptance is rewarded: because the separation isn’t forever.

Death is not the end. It makes way for new beginnings. For all three of TFW. Actually all four, because of course Jack is included in this endgame.

There’s a transformation that takes place, thanks to them integrating. They get to transcend what’s come before and move onto the next plane of existence together. 

Together.

TFW 3.0!

Death on this show has always been about a moment of rebirth, of entering a different leg of their journeys.  

I don’t find it out of place at all that the ultimate moment of death for our characters mean just that. 

Not an ending, but a new beginning.

In conclusion

Could there have been more? As said, yes. Absolutely yes. But I doubt Dabb isn’t aware of that. I don’t think this is the ending he originally intended. It might have been a brothers focused ending, because I think Dean was always meant to die and go to Heaven, but Dean’s Heaven was meant to be a celebration of found family. 

The subtext of this narrative is what I’ve been reading and what I’ve been hooked on for four years, and what I’ll continue to be hooked on for the rest of my life, I’m fairly sure. I wish it could be celebrated, the way it always has been, the way we’ve always known to look deeper.

I hoped Supernatural would turn out to be a vehicle for overt representation. I always hoped that, and believe that was what the writers wanted. The fact that we didn’t get overt bisexual Dean and Destiel as unquestionable canon was distressing to me too and I’ll always think of this ending as a missed opportunity and I wish the CW would learn and fucking do better already. 

I understand the frustration, I understand the anger, I just wish we could all look at the richness of this ending and everything it says about the narrative, about our subtext, about our love story, about our character journeys, and lean into the treasury of it.

And omfg we got Cas as canonically queer. 

We got a main character on our show that is overt representation, on a journey towards a moment where he gets to express love and hope and clarity and this in turn moving through and enabling the integration of Dean and ultimately of Sam as well.

Truth begetting truth. Happiness begetting happiness. And love saving the day.

So, my friends, I will say this: saying that all the writing is bad, or claiming that there’s no depth, nothing to pull on, that it all just plain sucked, that doesn’t quite cut it. These three final episodes, just as any episode ever of this goddamn show, contain all of those layers and layers, especially when looked at together and certainly when taken into the context of the show as a whole.

And yes, you are, of course, more than welcome to your own interpretation! 

To finish I’ll quote Bruce Almighty: 

Lovelovelovelovelovelovelove!! 

#spn meta #spn finale #spn 15x20 #tfw #tfw 2.0 #cas #castiel #dean #dean winchester #sam #sam winchester #finale positivity #positivity party #jack #character progression #narrative threads #heaven!verse #I love this damn show #deancas #destiel #the greatest love story ever told #cas is queer #dean is bi #treasure #home love family #endgame #tfw 3.0 #spngate #destielgate #do better cw

[selenitawars]

Pressentimento

Never Be The Same - Part 7.

Pairing: Sam x Daughter!Reader, Dean x Niece!Reader, Castiel x Platonic!Reader.

Summary: To save Dean’s life, Sam changes a big part of his past, hoping that he’d only forget memories with his college girlfriend. But, not only he changes his life, he also creates a new one.

Word Count: 2332.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Yes, I’m back after over a year and a half. I know I’m a dumbass for making y’all wait for so long, but, honestly, I want this to be a fun writing, so I try not to pressure myself. Won’t make promises. Either way, always love to know your opinions. Hope  you enjoy this comeback haha!

Pressentimento masculine noun 1. act of feeling in advance, more through emotion than reason, the occurrence of a future fact; suspicion. "I have a p. that this will not work" 2. knowledge of what will happen, obtained by intuition; forecast, hunch, omen.

You still hadn't explained everything to your father nor your uncle. Cas remembered one of the episodes that occurred with you when you were younger, around ten or so. It was hard for you. Every time you tried to explain yourself, things were hard to explain. All the time, something blocked you from exposing the fear inside you, the fear of letting things out.

The way their "new" memories came to them didn't help. It was so unpredictable. Cas remembered you praying first and then, mixed memories, tiny ones, which made him assume a lot about you already; and worry as well. Dean remembered more, like the time Sam was soulless and you lived with him for months, you concluded he was remembering things by the impact they had in his life. As for Sam, well, apparently things were coming more chronologically for him, but a little late, since he also had a lot of Camila to remember.

You tried to think how to talk to them about your crisis. The big ones. It was so complicated. When it started happening, you had your godmother to help with calming down and understanding how sensible you were; but even Vanessa had to talk with the Winchesters to fully understand what made you so much stronger and sensitive. Anyway, she wouldn't help you now that she was in the list of people to whom you never existed.

Oh, and your mother...

Looking at pictures of her nowadays became an addiction. You couldn't sleep before searching a little more about her, not that you've been having much sleep or any of this helped. You wish so bad you could talk to her. And now that Sam told ya you reminded him so much of Camila, you really studied her, trying to find the resemblance.

How would you tell them there's more? More of you to worry. You wanted to wait for a time when the memories hangovers weren't so heavy on them. They were all trying to act normal, but it was obvious - you've never been at home for this long, they were never so quiet. Dean wasn't even drinking, to make sure he wouldn't be more confused.

You were lying down on your bed, trying to ease the headache. It was normal to have a day just to be tired, but after the all day just resting you still got a headache by night. Went to get a pill to make it better and when you swallow it, you realize something.

"I don't exist." You whisper to yourself.

For the first time in that day, you felt useful. Even with the headache, you got in front of the computer and started to do your thing. For some reason you got happy when you confirmed your theory.

"I was never born."

"You gotta stop thinking about that." Dean warned you.

"No, I mean... I don't exist."

The three men stared at you with confusion, you repeated.

"I don't exist."

Still nothing. The room was filled with silence while you hoped for the clicking in their minds. It never came. You sighed.

"I never existed! Never did anything!"

Sam looked at you like he was starting to worry, while holding a bowl with cereal. Just like Dean, who chewed his, probably thinking you've gone crazy.

"I don't understand why you're so excited saying it." Cas finally said.

"Isn't it obvious?" They once more, didn't react. "There are no records of me, at all. Nobody knows about me. I only left the bunker once."

"What's your point?" Dean asked.

"We should keep it that way."

"What? Why?" The brothers said together.

"Well, if nobody knows I'm here, we're in advantage. It's always good to have a secret backup, right?"

"Like... as a surprise element?" Castiel suggested, you nodded. "Y/N, you don't truly expect us to treat you like a secret weapon..."

"Hell no." Dean agreed.

"It's not like it."

"Well, I don't see your point." You father stated. "I know this seems messed up, but, we can fix it. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried, I'm thinking!" You made them quiet. "C'mon, think with me: I barely left the bunker, how could anyone know about me?"

"We know about you." Dean answered.

"But you've seen me. And your memories, are just yours, this doesn't mean the world knows about me."

"Ok, but you'll need to use an ID sometime. Or will you live forever here, inside the bunker?"

"Dean, you should know it's easier to make a fake ID look real if there isn't a real one to prove the fake one as fake."

Sam took a deep breath.

"Ok, so we leave it as it is. How much long do you think it would last?"

"Not much, I know. But at least, for a while it could be useful."

"I don't see how, Y/N. I'm not using you as my secret-spy-soldier or whatever."

"Sam is right. It's not worth it."

"Castiel?" You looked at him, only to find the agreeing look. You looked down.

"Look, how can you be sure nobody else remembers you?" The angel tried to clear your mind.

"For most people I know, I never happened. And the others, will probably only remember me when they see me, if they do. Until then..."

"That's not right." Sam interrupted. "I had this feeling about you, before we arrived on that day; like I left something behind, but I couldn't remember why."

"So did I."

"I got one your prayers for not getting news from us." You stood there, silent.

"That's it? A feeling you forgot something?!" You left for your bedroom, a little ofended they didn't listen to you. Your idea was good, logical. You genuinely thought they would see it as a good thing out of all this.

Reflecting on it, you finally notice: you may not know your family as well as before. At first it sounds crazy, but this is all crazy, ain't it? And after doing their exercise for a couple hours, thinking about your childhood, the events that crossed it and when it all began, you got yourself some questions.

You fell asleep while still thinking, trying to find logic somewhere and always getting to the same point, a lost point. Somehow while sleeping, you had no dreams, didn't wake up once; not even the fact that you were with a jacket bothered you.

"Hey, man. You good?" Dean noticed Sam squeeze his eyes.

"Yep. Just those flashbacks. I hate to have them by day, but I can't sleep no longer."

"Like a constant hangover, thank God it's not a heavy one." Sam did not answer. "Sam?"

"Right..." Sam stared at the floor, seeing stuff in his mind. He blinked multiple times after a little.

"You all right? You seem shocked. What did you remember?"

"It's just... Y/N's suggestion."

"Dude, that was today."

"Very funny!" Dean smiled a little to ease his brother. "It got me thinking. Why would she want that?"

"Honestly," Castiel entered suddenly. "I think she is trying to get something good out of this."

"Good? I see her point, but..."

"Not good." Cas interrupted, correcting himself. "Useful, at least."

"It's not as useful as she thinks." Dean says as if it's obvious.

"It's the only thing she has to offer." Castiel putted it in a weird way, but made sense. They silented for an instant. "Still, how does that has to do with your flashback, Sam?"

"I thought that maybe I should listen to her. Maybe there was a point."

"You, Sammy, considered the possibility of being saved by her?"

"Obviously not. I wondered: what if her non-existence helped her get away from this craziness. Like, she could get to any school if we put some effort."

"You concluded it fast." Cas commented.

"Well, yeah. Then I... questioned." Sam felt the gazes at him. "How did she get dragged into hunting in the first place? Why did I not stop it? And one more thing popped up: why did I leave college?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Dean couldn't understand his brother.

"Dean, if it wasn't for my anger towards Jessica's death, who knows..." He explained. "So why I left Stanford, making Camila stay behind and after weeks drop out too?"

Castiel took a seat.

"Why did you?"

Sam opened the door, showly. You were in your bed, far from his atmosphere, enjoying a rest you needed. He passed the door carefully, took a look at your room and turned the lights off. Ever since that hunt days ago, when he saw you sleep at the motel bed while he was reading about the case, the day he woke up before you and as you slept in the car coming back home, Sam felt peace as he watched you.

It was the moment he could breath easily and a little relaxed. You were resting, next to him, nothing could hurt you in your sleep. There, you were safe and wasn't leaving soon. So he couldn't help watch you once more; just stood by the door for a couple seconds, smiled at the taught of you having a break from this madness for some hours. Grabbed the door and heard your move, turning to check if he had woken ya.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." Your voice sounded lazy. "I have a light sleep."

"So do I." You nodded. You knew it. He regrets commenting it.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"No, tell me." He understood you couldn't sleep anymore.

"You don't want to talk now."

"It's about earlier, I know." You said while rubbing your eyes. "Just spit it." He gave in and sat in your chair.

"Why do you wanna do it?"

"Why don't you?"

"Why would I?"

"You've always wanted this." He gulped.

"What? No!"

"You never wanted me to be in risk, you hated the fact I made you all vulnerable, now nobody knows I'm here. I know this isn't permanent and things can change, but for now, you could finally be at peace. Nobody knows me, none of you have to worry."

Samuel digested everything you said and got his answer prepared fastly enough.

"For a long time I asked myself if Jessica never died, would I be here? And you know, as things turned out to be, as I found out more and more throughout the years I got the answer." He paused. "I would. Because if it wasn't Jess, it would be Dean or dad, or a friend."

"What do you mean?"

"I left college for revenge." You got surprised. "It wasn't Jess. Not anymore." That sounded weird. "I made a choice and I know now that somehow, at some point, no matter how many times... I would make that choice again. As soon as somebody I care about got in danger. So I left college. For you."

Sam got back from his first hunt after two years. Camila was waiting. They talked and she was serious when she told him to call Dean. Leave as soon as he could. She said she had a bad feeling, he had to find his father. Was something repentine, fast and clear - the fear in her voice stopped Sam from questioning.

"The way she talked to me... her eyes, getting sudden tears. At first I tried to calm her, jokes on me, I blamed her hormones. Camila proved me wrong. I knew she had that sometimes, like with tests or bad decisions, maybe something simple like knowing staying in was better than going to a party. She was always right. If not totally right, fast enough to avoid regret." He looked down as her voice came to his head and repeated her words. "'This is your family we're talking about, Samuel! Your child's grandfather.' She screamed. I was scared." You two laughed a little. "She begged. Aggressively. But, I didn't leave because she did."

"Why then?"

"I called Dean to get back there and pick me up because once we talked, I got that bad feeling too. And was suddenly afraid. Afraid something would happen to either of you." You stayed silent. "I hoped things would be more simple, soon I'd be back and things would go back to normal. You would be born and grow up, normal. We would be a family..."

"Please, don't say normal." He smiled.

"Your mother's bad feeling... I don't know what is was about exactly. She got scared too in that moment and it was the only time I saw her that scared. But I know that mine became true. Only, it was even worse. There was no blame. Of all things that happened in those months, how worried I was with my father, you, Camila and even Dean... The hunts, the confusion and overwhelming information all at once. The fear. Your mother's death was the most sudden and painful." You saw a tear run down his cheek, followed by a couple more. Sam had more to say but you spoke before, in the heat of the moment.

"She knew." He looked back at you, now with red eyes. "I think she knew something bad was going to happen."

"She knew we would be in danger." By we, he meant himself, his uncle and your grandpa.

"No. Not that. She knew that something terrible was happening already and would get worse. But she didn't tell you to go to stop it." His tears froze, lost in your words. "Like you said. Camila was always right about this bad feelings. She was certain." You were sure thanks to your own experience with it.

"About Dean needing me more than her?" You denied.

"About you needing the rest of your family once I was born."

#sam x daughter!reader #dean x niece!reader #castiel x platonic!reader #sam x daughter au #dean x niece au #castiel x platonic au #dad!sam winchester #uncle!dean winchester #uncle!castiel #winchester!reader #winchester!daughter #sam winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester x niece!reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural au

[katsidhe]

How about Family Matters for the SPN reviews? I'd love your take on some SoullessSam.

I took a sabbatical from these for the end of s15, but now I’m Back. Here we go!

6.07 Final Thoughts

I love early season 6 as a meditation on the ways that Sam is present when he is absent, and absent when he is present. Making Sam objectively, provably Not Himself does some lovely and horrific things to drag the ways he has been forced and forces himself to fit certain molds into the light. 

We open on Sam, whom Dean has beaten bloody and unconscious and tied to a chair, for the crime of—*checks notes*—saying he feels there’s something wrong with him, and that he needs help. Boy, I sure do wonder why Sam was reticent. A mystery. 

Okay, but actually, those aren’t Dean’s reasons. Because he went way overboard. Sam was not a physical threat to him. Dean was certainly upset about the you-let-me-get-vamped thing, but he wasn’t overcome with rage over it. This was not 4.21, or 4.04, or any time that Dean has lashed out at Sam in anger or desperation or because Sam was fighting back. In fact, this wasn’t Dean lashing out at Sam at all: Dean is cold, Dean is putting down a threat. Dean beat Soulless!Sam unconscious precisely because he was not Sam enough. Dean is lashing out at the unbearable possibility that the Cage might have changed Sam, indelibly, forever, to be someone that Dean won’t recognize. And that implicit degree of judgment is utterly terrifying. 

Lies and honesty in season 6... it’s a whole thing, webs within webs, really. Cas will later be excoriated for hiding his deal with Crowley from Dean and Sam. Both Samuel and Cas are lying to Sam for the whole season about who rescued Sam, and Crowley is lying to them both in turn. But the fact that Sam literally didn’t know what was wrong with him or how he escaped Hell but was expected to confess anyway, along with the way Cas and Dean stand there discussing Sam’s status and diagnosis over his head, is an excellent illustration of the way that lies to and lies about Sam are treated. 

Also, Cas, entering the brunt of his woes post-s6: the way that Dean and Sam, and especially Dean, take his assistance and his involvement for granted. He’s been inducted into the family, and he’s glimpsed the utter loyalty demanded, but now those demands will really start to kick in. “Your problems always come first.” lmao

Soulless!Sam is remarkably cooperative! He relies on a tactic that mid-seasons Sam uses actually quite a lot to win over Dean: persuasion via self abasement. (I’m the least of any of you, I know I’m a freak, I know I  messed up)… it’s appeasement, full-throttle. “I’m sorry, Dean, I won’t do it again,” he says, with admirably well-leashed insincerity. 

It’s so obviously, delightfully performative. It makes me think about 15.17, and other times in late seasons, when Sam is relying on these tried-and-true tactics to talk Dean down. How much of that is performative? How much does Sam truly believe? How much does Sam believe in spirit but not in word? The potential for dishonesty and slant truth is fascinating. 

Soul (or lack of soul) touching!!!! Cas didn’t even heal Sam’s face first, because he knew we wanted to see him all bloody :) 

The treatment of Family also gets a good shake-over in season 6, with the introduction of the Campbells. Dean’s open hostility towards the Campbells is unsurprising; he’s threatened, he’s suspicious, and it reminds me of how Dean felt when he discovered Adam in 4.19. 

And yet Dean uses a similar tactic on Samuel as Soulless Sam is using on him—offering trust in the hope that it’s returned. “You call the plays,” he says, apparently without any sense of irony. 

Dean accuses Sam of having “no instincts.” And that’s--both true, and precisely untrue. Sam able to figure out every kind of cue this episode quickly and keenly, not by empathy, but through observation. Also ironically, Sam’s ease with following Samuel’s orders is so close to Dean’s sense of instinct, as he would have defined it pre-series! Do what Dad asks, because he’s family: you can really see Sam’s confusion when Dean isn’t on board with that. 

I think we should appreciate how baffling the back and forth in Family (tm) is for Soulless!Sam. He set himself up to follow the Rules as he understood them: save people, hunt things, obey Dad Grandad, only for the goalposts to move. 

What’s interesting here is, as Soulless says himself, he doesn’t actually need to stick around with Dean. He could have left. Reasonably, around the time that Dean gives him the “I drive the bus, I call the shots” speech, he should have been out of there. We are supposed to feel disappointment at the prospect that they broke up but I mean goddamn, who wouldn’t run from that ultimatum. The real twist is that he decides to stick it out.

I love the brief flash of genuine fear Soulless shows when Crowley threatens to throw him back into the Cage. 

Soulless!Sam is still so fundamentally his own person, even when he’s allowing himself to be led around by the nose by Dean. And yet… he’s just as compromised as Sam is. He’s got that fear of being swallowed up, by Hell or by Dean. Being twisted into something he is not, being forced to fit a shape he can’t survive: that’s the point at which he’ll fight back. But up until then? He’ll stretch himself quite agreeably to meet expectations. He’ll fit himself into the imposed mold without complaint, whether it’s Samuel’s or Dean’s, and he’ll feel a real sense of relief to have that structure. 

Unlike many other soulless people we’ve seen, Soulless!Sam doesn’t operate at all on id. Rather, he reads to me as the precise opposite: ego and superego run wild. He places too much weight on divining and acting according to what his tiny society thinks is acceptable. All his survival drive is bent towards consequence, towards the judgment of pragmatic outcomes, rather that what he’d like in the moment. He doesn’t mind hurting or subsuming himself temporarily to gain a later advantage. He feels safest when fulfilling expectations, both practical and moral. He’s built himself a scaffold to support whatever it is he knows he's become, and he uses it to defend himself against the guilt and failure and agony that he remembers, that he’s desperate not to return to. 

“This family—this is it for me now,” says Soulless!Sam to Samuel, and even though he’s lying, I think he’s telling the truth. 

#thanks for the ask! #6.07 #sam and soullessness #sam and dean #this is a really really good soulless episode #the number of compromises soulless sam is willing to make is staggering #denugis #4.19 #15.17 #final thoughts

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Knot In Love - Alpha!Dean x Omega! Reader

A/N: Part Eleven is back. Again, where it’s a daily thing? I am not tagging anyone new. 3pm is the magical time, usually. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy one of my favorites <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Series Warnings: Forced mating. Knotting. Alpha/Omega dynamics. Witchcraft (more based on real craft than Hollywood). Angst. Etc. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: Roughly 4,700

“Hey,” Sam walked up as Dean focused on making his quick lunch. Peanut butter and jelly. With the strawberry jam. How thrilling, he internally sighed, pouring the gooey concoction onto the bread.

“Hey.” He returned listlessly. Not having the energy for pleasantries.

“P.B. and J for breakfast. Strong work.” Sam was trying to be cheerful. So much so that it only made Dean's mood more bleak.

“Yep.”

“Wanna beer with that?” Sam offered in that eager to please kind of voice that made Dean's head rise to attention.

“I'm cool,” His statement ended as more of a question as he turned to look at his brother in confusion.

“Come on. Live a little.” Sam coerced cheerfully, shutting the door. Two of the aforementioned drinks in hand. “Here.”

One plopped on the island in front of Dean, as the older brother went back to the breakfast of champions. “What's goin' on with you?”

“What do you mean?” Sam tried to play innocent. His eyes going just slightly wider as the enormous brain of his went into overdrive. Dean wasn't impressed, and the green gaze reflected it. Lips pulling tight as he turned his eyes back to the sandwich. Not even having the energy to argue. “Anyway, check this out.” Sam rushed into what he'd been buttering his brother up for, “I think I found something.” The tablet was pulled out. An article rested on the screen. Staring the hunter down. “Three days ago, kid named Shawn Raider was found wandering on the side of the road.” Sam stated, selling the hunt better than a used car salesman, “near Grand Junction, Colorado. Bleeding from the head.” Dean still didn't look too keen, so he kept going. “Best friend was missing. And get this,” His long finger waved with his catch phrase, “only word he said?” He waited for a response with his final word, “Monster.”

“Okay,” Dean began, wrapping up his plating. Brows lifting only a hair. “Well, that sounds like something.”

“Yeah,” Sam jumped on it. “So, I thought I'd check it out. You and me.” That really caught his older brother's attention.

“What about Jack?” He'd been better with the kid. Letting him be around. But, that hadn't meant he liked it. He didn't. At all. “And, Y/N?”

“He's uh,” Sam turned towards the door as he began. “He's catching up on all my old fantasy DVD's.” He began listing them off as a way to show how busy the boy would be. “Red Sonia, Beast Master, uh, Beast Master II. You know, the one with the time traveling ferrets.” Dean was looking at Sam as if he'd lost it.

“Yeah,” Finally, the older brother sounded a bit more like himself, “Wow... How you ever got laid, I'll never know.”

A breathy chuckle left Sam at the teasing, “Yeah, tell me about it.” He genuinely wanted Dean to rip into him. Wanted to see the spark of life back in his eyes. “So, I was thinking,” Sam was taking the large leap as he stopped chewing at his lip, “we'd leave Jack behind.” Dean was no longer amused.

He sucked a flake of peanut butter off of his pinky before responding, “Really?”

“Yeah,” His voice cracked, making him sound less confident then he'd been hoping for. “We'll throw up some extra warding. He'll be fine.”

“You never said anything about Y/N.” The attached Alpha spoke up. “Got a plan for that, too?”

“Y/N? She can stay here, too. Or, go visit with Jody. Whatever she wants. She'll be alright.” Sam's hands rested on the cool surface in front of him. “I mean, when's the last time we worked a case? Just you and me?” Sam motioned between their bodies. Hoping like hell it would be enough.

“It's been a while,” Dean acknowledged, his head bobbing with the answer.

“Exactly.” He tried hard to not sound too excited. To not scare Dean away. “So?” The scrunched up nod said plenty.

Maybe it'll be good, Dean thought to himself as the sigh of relief left his brother. He didn't have a clear head in the bunker. He couldn't do what he needed to with you and Jack around every corner. Yeah, he decided, yeah, I'll go.

–

“It's just you and me, Jack.” Your arms crossed as the roar of the Impala faded into the distance. “Want to jump into the ice cream?”

“Can we?” He sounded like a kid at Christmas. Earning a grin on your lips as you motioned back towards the entrance of the bunker. “Hell yes!” You winced a bit at that. Knowing that it came from Dean.

As he ran inside, you sighed. Watching the trail of dust fade away in the distance. Hoping that Sam was right. That all Dean needed to right his head was a hunt, booze, and a strip joint.

Part of you wanted to join them on the road. Not wanting to be so far from your mate. The other part? She was petrified of the thought of another hunt.

Your arms crossed over your body to hold yourself together. The after effects clung to you like a second skin. Late at night, you could see Buddy and Mia playing through your mind on repeat. Could see Dean's terror at the thought of losing his brother echoing in the air. Your own response chilled you. Not that you'd ever been particularly afraid of death. But, you'd never openly welcomed it as you had in that moment.

You turned away from the negative thoughts, leaving them to the breeze. Sending Dean away with the healing energies you'd been able to muster. Hoping to find your own piece of clarity in the process.

–

“So, he didn't say anything?” Sam got out of the passenger seat once they reached the Royal Towers Motel. Far more upbeat than their usual place.

“Not a word,” Baby's door shut behind Dean. “Whatever that kid saw? It messed him up.” Dean checked his watch. He didn't like leaving you alone. Didn't know when it would be a reasonable time to check in. He wanted to make sure Jack hadn't come unhinged- not that he could say that he truly believed it would happen. His anxiety, however, didn't pull any punches.

“Well, I say that we talk to the other friend. Uh, Mike,” The younger brother remembered the name as he rounded the car's hood, “first thing in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” The watch was dropped. As if that would make him forget.

He turned towards the glass doors, fully prepared to settle in for the night. And to get that damned call in before he went crazy. His mark was practically itching at being away from your side. Reminding him of the need to get it abolished. Just as fast as the thought crossed his mind, he grew more bleak.

“So...” Sam's voice pulled him from wallowing in self-pity once again, “strip club?” The forced question set off every warning bell Dean possessed.

“Wait.” The older brother drew himself to a halt. Looking up into the widened, nervously shifting gaze of the taller one. “Sorry...what?”

A small noise made its way from the back of his throat before he could respond,“S-strip...club,” Sam internally cursed himself for the stutter. “There's one just outside of town.” He didn't know what to do with his hands. Waving them a bit before stuffing them in his pockets. Trying to look cool. “The uh...” He took a deep breath. The name was physically painful. “The Clamdiver.”

Dean stared at Sam as if he was a stranger, “You,” a hand pointed at Sam as he emphasized what he'd just heard. “Wanna go to The Clamdiver?”

Sam couldn't look him in the eyes, and instead settled on the tie, “Yeah.” Then his eyes came up. “It...It got great reviews.” As if that made the situation better.

His brother only became more incredulous, “You read reviews...for The Clamdiver?”

“It...” He couldn't help but to stutter at the ridiculous conversation that he'd started. Trying to justify the need to go was only making it worse. But, like a derailed train, he couldn't stop. “It...it got four and a half-”

Dean couldn't take anymore, “Dude, what is going on with you?”

“What are you talking about?” Again, his eyes stuck to the tie. Unable to meet the green gaze.

“All day,” The older brother started calling him out. “You give me a...a beer for breakfast.” That wasn't all though. Oh no. Dean had a list. “You...you gave me Agent Page, which you always like to be.” Sam didn't find that to be a huge red flag, but his brother wasn't done. Not even close. “You...you didn't whine about me blaring my music the whole way here.” He'd expected Sam to try and talk about you or Jack. He hadn't had him in it to hear it, then. So...music. The lack of protest, though, had raised even more suspicion. “And when we stopped for lunch, you ordered me chili fries.” The accusing hand was aimed at him again. As if that final piece had been a sin.

Sam's mouth was slightly ajar as he glanced back up with a minimum shrug, “You love chili fries.”

“Everybody loves chili fries,” For half a second, Sam had hope that Dean had been taken off course. He should have known better. “That's not the point.” His lips pulled back before he went onto the most recent offense, having caught onto the tactic. “Now you wanna go hang out at a strip club?” That damned hand was back in business, “You hate strip clubs.”

“No, I don't.” An indignant scoff left the younger brother before transforming into a broken chuckle. He really did, but Dean...

“Dude,” Dean had no problem jumping onto the lie, claws drawn. “The last lap dance that you had was...was...was,” A moment to think gave Sam hope that he could intervene, “at Christmas.” So much for that thought, came the rueful internal response. “It was a gift paid for by me.” His voice grew deeper as the memory became clearer. Sam hated that particular night. He'd wished Dean had forgotten it. By all means, he should have with all of the tequila he'd ingested. Yet, there he sat; reciting it better than he could a Metallica track. “You spent the entire song trying to convince the girl that she should go to nursing school.” Dean's head bobbed as he tried to meet Sam's wandering eyes all the way up to the point where he turned his head away with a small sigh. He opened his mouth to argue, but simply clamped it shut. Unable to protest. His brother was right. “So...what is it?” The demand followed the evidence flawlessly. Sam was cornered. “Its it my birthday? Did...did I win a bet that I don't know about? What?”

“No,” Sam broke. “No, nothing.” Dean didn't look convinced, so he didn't stop. “Nothing. I...I mean, I'm just trying to be nice.”

“Why?” Ever distrustful Dean came forth. No one was nice to him without a reason.

“Because it....” He sighed deeply. Giving up the entire act. “You know why.” The unimpressed head tilt he received made him want to shake his brother. He knew what was coming as his words sunk in.

“I'm fine.” With that, Dean moved to walk away. Shoulders straight.

“No, you're not, Dean.” Sam didn't hesitate. He knew his brother too well to not know that Dean would want to escape the conversation. His brother's hands came up to try to wave the doors into opening. Nothing. Sam moved forward, refusing to back down. “You said that you don't believe in anything, and...and that's not true.” Dean looked inside the office, trying to push away what was being said. “That's not you.” With a dark scowl, Dean jerked open the door. Annoyed that he'd expected a bit more glam at that place. He could have gotten away faster. “You...You do believe in things.” Sam rushed to follow. “You do believe in people. That's who you are. That's what you do.” The desk forced him to stop. Sam didn't. Dean's eyes shut, asking for the patience he'd never had. “I know you're in a dark place, and I...” His heart was breaking all over again. “I just wanna help.”

“Okay,” It wasn't something he could avoid. So, he turned to his younger brother. “Look,” He hated the hopeful look on Sam's face in that moment. “I...I've been down this road before, and I fought my way back. I will fight my way back again.”

“How?” Came the pointed question. Dean wasn't thrilled with the response and the look on his face reflected that.

“Same way I always do,” Sam's head shook, saying that wasn't enough of an answer. So, Dean did what he did best. Resorted to the three 'B's. “Bullets, bacon, booze.” His fingers ticked each one off with love. With that, he slammed his hand on the bell. No longer having the patience to deal with what he'd been given. If he'd been home, he'd have had the fourth 'B', too. Boobs. “A lotta booze.” A sigh left his lips.

–

“Hey,” Your voice was a little too upbeat for you to be happy with it. Jack simply gave you an unimpressed side eye. Kid was catching on quick. With slightly narrowed eyes, you pushed his face away teasingly. Earning a smile. “What's up, Dean?”

“Sam's driving me nuts,” He muttered, glancing towards the bathroom where his brother was prepping for the night out. “He's tryin' to get me to go to a strip club. Can you believe that?”

“So, why are you talking to me?” You crossed your legs as the half angel boy left the room to refill the ice cream bowls. Giving you a moment of privacy. “Go out, Dean. Let loose.”

“Are...” Dean's voice cracked a bit, before he straightened it back up with a little throat clearing action. “Are you messing with me right now?” He sounded positively mad. It only made you grin. “Cause if you are, I'll have you know that it's not nice to-”

“Dean,” The calmness in your voice made him go silent. “Go out with your brother. Let off some steam. It'll be good for you.”

“What kind of mate are you?” The accusation in his voice made you bite back a full blown laugh. An over dramatic huff followed. “Well?”

“The kind who knows that you've been too wrapped up with life here at the bunker,” The slightly broken note had Dean frowning into his cell phone. Realizing that you were serious. “Just...go. Let loose. I won't hold it against you.” Yet, part of you wished that he wouldn't. The piece of him that resided in your mark. “Go be a normal person for a night, Dean...it's okay.”

“What're you two doing?” Dean changed the conversation, unable to sit on the tension. Hated the brokenness that he'd accidentally drawn forth.

“Eating our weight in ice cream.” You answered honestly. Rubbing over your stomach. Knowing the gut ache that would follow.  “Jack wanted to try chick flicks. He's trying to see why you hate them so much.”

“Is he figuring it out?” The wince was audible, turning your mood back upwards.

“Yeah,” The laugh that escaped you bubbled through him. Making him lighter than he'd hoped it could. “He's not a fan of anything Nicholas Sparks. Figured I'd give him the ultimate experience.”

“You're a cruel woman, Y/N.” The older Winchester tsked into his phone. Cruel enough to not give him anything he didn't ask for.  “So, it's good, then?”

“What'd you expect, Dean?” The fuzzy, disabling little voice came over the speaker again. “We're good. Jack's impatient for you two to get back. Every five minutes, he has a different question. It's cute.”

“And you?” He wanted to know what you were feeling. Needed to know if it was as one sided as he feared.

“What about me?” It was back. That breathy little note that made his knees weak. His brain pictured the way your lip twitched when you tried to hold back a smile. Wondering if it was doing it, then.

“Do you want us back home?” The gravely question settled into your gut. “Do you miss me, yet?”

“Go have fun, Dean...” Was the only response you could come up with. “I'll see you soon.”

You ended the call before he could respond. Truth was you did miss him. More than you'd expected. It wasn't just the mark. There was something about him, in himself, that was starting to draw you in.

“You're falling in love with him,” Jack stated from the doorway. Making your head jerk up.

“I think you've been watching too much romance, Jack.” Your voice held no steel, though. He wasn't buying it. “How 'bout we switch it up a bit?”

“Like what?” He let you slide. Not wanting to hurt you, on accident.

“Let's try some action.” You turned your mind away from your mate. Too afraid that Jack was right. It would be all too easy for you to give your heart away to the older Winchester.

The next morning, you woke up to video of Dean on your phone. He was out cold; snoring loudly from the booze that was splashed across the tan carpet, no doubt. Still in his wrinkled, well worn FBI suit from the day before. His tie wrapped into a bow around his forehead. Sunglasses just above it. A frilly pink bra around his neck. Using his shoe as a pillow. What appeared to be a rope whip in his hand. You weren't truly sure if you were honest.

Disappointment saturated everything else. On some level, you'd hoped that he would have turned it down. With a sigh that said you should have known better, you tossed your phone. Curling more into your blankets. Your stomach taking the expected hit from the sugar overdose you'd experienced the night before.

You got through the day. You weren't exactly sure how, if you were honest. When you could finally settle in for another late night binge session, you couldn't have been happier. Being left alone with Jack was both rewarding and exhausting all bundled into one. Not in a negative way. Simply made you appreciate full time parents all the more. As the images flaunted across the screen, you couldn't help but to wonder what Sam and Dean were doing.

–

“I think it might be another ghost,” Sam stated as doors slammed. The glass from a photo exploded as it hit the ground.

“I think there's a lot,” Dean returned. The air around them both was freezing. They'd taken down the doctor. Light bulbs shattered as the energies surged forward. Coming towards the men rapidly. “Let's go! Go!”

“We need a doctor,” A woman's voice whispered frantically as they hit the stairs. Joined by a man's. Over and over, the phrase was thrown into the air. “Where is the doctor?”

Dean was breathing hard as they entered the landing that was filled with beds. “They're asking for the doc.” It all came together, then.

“These must be the people he killed,” Sam winced at the realization. One spook was bad enough. An army of them? Hell was easier. Their flashlights moving across the room, checking for any apparitions.

“Well, if they're ghosts, then why can't we see them?” The older brother challenged. Looking for answers to explain what was happening.

“Maybe they're not strong enough to pierce the veil,” The younger shot back. More bulbs exploding as they were discovered. Beds aimed sharply at them by the furious spirits.

“Yeah, but they're strong enough to kill us?” The shouted question was thrown out as they ended up on the move, again.

“Great.” Sam followed Dean down the stairs. Not much more impressed with the turn the night had taken.

“You know what,” His breath was labored but he didn't slow. “Those bodies have gotta be buried in the house somewhere.” The next landing was met. The house larger than it looked from the outside.

“Okay, so we check it top to bottom.” Sam was ever logical, even when there was an unknown amount of spirits calling for their heads. Dean, knew better. Slamming the bag he'd been carrying to the ground, he started looking for the items he'd learned to keep in stock.

“There's no time.” He replied, feeling his fingers brush across the case.

“What are you doing?” Sam's head jerked down to see what his brother was planning. The house vibrating in years of once contained rage.

“I'm gonna find out where these bodies are buried.” That couldn't have been more vague.

“So?”

“So, I'm gonna ask 'em.” Dean moved all the junk out of the way to bring the needed items to the top.

“What? How?” The case was thick, green, rectangular, and old. However, it held what they needed.

“Easy.” The lid snapped open under the light. Two large needles rested inside, filled with white liquid. “One needle stops the heart, and the other one starts it up again.” Dean lifted the one out and then looked up at Sam. Instantly, his brother started protesting. “Look, we can't talk to them on this side of the veil, so I'm gonna go to the other side.” Dean boomed, leaving no room for argument. “I'm gonna work my way through all of these Caspers until we find out where this freak hid the bodies.”

“Dean, you're talking about killing yourself!” Sam shouted back. As if it was the first time his brother had made that move.

The cap was removed with his teeth, “Yeah?” It clattered to the ground. “Well, it worked before.”

“That's an insane risk to take.” His voice cracked as he tried to reason. Tried to make Dean see.

“Listen,” Dean cut him off before he could say more. “I need three minutes, okay?”

“D...Don't even...” The needle was pressed in before he could finish. Plunger slammed. Directly below the cardiac muscle. “Dean!” The older brother groaned. The pain harsher than he'd expected. He should have known better. “Dean!” He couldn't hear Sam anymore. Letting out his own little cry. “Hey!” Down  he went, rolling to his side. “Damn it!” He took the two steps and landed beside his brother.

Dean was inconsolable. Gasping for air as his body shook. Fighting against the drug that was killing him without meaning to. Sam tried using his voice to calm the dying. It was useless. Dean didn't hear a thing until he stopped moving. His head bumping across the ground.

Sam rolled him over. Checking his pulse as Dean watched on from the side. Running his hands over his non-physical body. Being a spirit was weird, but it wasn't the first time. He knew just what to do. His eyes landed on the stairs and he was on his way.

“Hey! Ghost dude!” Dean called out, moving after the other entity. Each step jarring out another 'hey'. “Hey, wait up, pal.”

“Hello,” A woman's voice stopped Dean. Reapers. He'd forgotten about them if he was honest with himself. “My name is Jessica and I'm here to lead you to your next life.” The bubbly red head smiled at him. So sure in her quest.

“Yeah,” He didn't have time for the game. “Hi, Dean.” He introduced himself, looking her directly in the eyes. “Little busy right now.” His ghost friend was getting away. “Yo!” He was on the move again.

“Oh god,” She followed him with her gaze. Comprehension was always less than pleasant when a reaper ran into a Winchester.

Meanwhile, Sam checked his watch. Twenty one seconds had gone by. He grabbed the salt, circling it around the body to be safe as the storm outside raged on. Another step that had been forgotten. He was cursing Dean all the while. Then, his phone rang. Jack.

“Hey, Jack. Now really isn't a good time-” He didn't get a chance to say more. The blood curdling scream on the other end cut him off. “Jack? What's goin' on?” The young boy didn't answer. Shouting in panic as he dropped the phone. Begging you in the distance to stop hurting yourself. The specifics getting lost over the agonized cries. “Oh my god.” He breathed out, looking at Dean's corpse. The mark darkening his throat beneath the flashlight's gaze. “What did you do?”

“Hey!” Dean called out. Loudly. Impatiently. “Hey, wait up!” He was getting tired of the chase. He had things to do. Like getting back home to the warm body in his bed. Luckily, he seemed to have cornered the guy. “Hey, do you, uh...” Then, the spirit vanished through the fireplace. “Oh, come on!”

“I know you,” A male voice stated from behind him. Dean turned to see the boy they'd been looking for. “Shawn.”

“You're the FBI man from my house.” Blood coated the shirt. A bandage stuck to his temple. There was no saving the child. Even on his hunt, he was failing. “You're dead, too?”

“I, uh...” What did one say in that situation? Dean didn't really know, so he improvised. “Yeah.” He decided to go with the technical truth. “What happened to you?” He took a few steps towards the boy. Concern dancing on his face.

“The man with the drill. He was in my room.” He stared blankly as he talked. Traumatized even after it was all sone.

“The doc...he possessed you, and he killed you.” Dean finished for him.

“I...I...I couldn't stop it.” Fear was heard then. Remembering how it all ended. “He said I'd feel better, but....I just...” His voice broke, then. “I miss my mom.”

“Shawn,” Dean's throat grew tight. Regret filling him. “I should've...” His words caught inside of him. “I'm so sorry.”

“Evan's here, too.” As if that made it better. “We can't leave. We...Why can't we leave?”

“I know you're scared, okay?” Dean moved forward, slowly. “But, I'm gonna help you. I'm going to help you get out of here.”

“Help me go home?” The weak voice questioned.

“Help you go to a better place.” It was all he could promise. Home no longer existed for him. Something Dean would live with for the remainder of his life. “But, I need you to tell me...The doc, where did he put your body?” As soon as he had the answer, he was bolting up the stairs. Calling for Sam. As if he could actually hear him. “Let's do this.”

His brother was checking his watch, needle in hand. The phone in his ear was blasting with indecipherable sounds. Loud, whatever they were. The beeper went off. Signaling the end of the game.

“All right,” Sam whispered, rubbing at Dean's chest a little before pushing the needle in with a heavy grunt. The plunger shoved it deep into the cold body. He threw the syringe to the ground, leaning over the empty vessel.

“Come on,” Dean was impatiently waiting. Chanting the phrase as he watched for some kind of sign.

“Dean,” Sam was watching his face. Patting his arm. “Dean?” Nothing. A paw landed across his chest. “Hey! Dean!”

“Why is it not working?” Dean asked himself. Watching in disbelief. Sam grew more frantic, then. Patting and shaking the body as if it would all magically solve the problem.

“Hey, Dean.” A female voice sounded. His eyes left the scene in front of him, turning to the top of the stairs. There she stood.

“Billie.” He hadn't been scared before. Simply in disbelief. But seeing her there set it off.

“We need to talk.”

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @michaelneedssomemilk @lemondropirwin @fanfictionismydeath @neii3n @surmya1907

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff  @woodworthti666 @coldmuffinbanditshoe

#supernatural #spn #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #Supernatural angst #spn angst #dean #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #alpha dean x omega reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfiction #dean angst #dean winchester angst #alpha dean winchester #a/b/o

[mittensmorgul]

hi! so this is really random, but i am about to start a new fic and i wanted to have sam w/ someone as a side pairing but couldnt decide yet and it got me to thinking did jared ever enjoy any of his onscreen love interests who were not gen? i know he didn't seem to care for the eileen relationship for some reason and i know he hated the amelia one as well. do you know if he ever mentioned if he prefered anyone for sam outside of "ruby"

Hi there! First off, ooh yay! Good luck writing your fic!

Second, maybe this is just me, but I don't really take into account how the actors who played the characters may think or feel when writing fic. It would be like being concerned about what the girls who acted in Marie's play from 10.05 thought the characters they played should want, you know? It's YOUR vision you're writing about here. You can write YOUR version of the story!

I still can't believe they redeemed Becky into a positive role model for fanfic writers. :'D

But since you asked specifically, of course Jared always said he liked Ruby/Gen. I mean, he liked her enough to marry her in real life. What else is he supposed to say when he's asked that question?

As to what he said about Eileen after the finale... about thinking Dean would never have wanted him to end up with a hunter... I have no idea what that was about, but Dean was the biggest in-canon Saileen shipper. So like... I have no idea what that was about. Just trying to not make waves about the fact Eileen was excluded from the finale? Did he really feel after they spent most of s15 demonstrating a healthy and positive relationship developing between him and Eileen to the point even *I* was like "OKAY THEY'RE OBVIOUSLY ENDGAME" after being incredibly wary of the relationship most of the season (because of how Eileen was brought back, because she was one of Chuck's pawns pushed into their lives unwittingly to manipulate them). So if they managed to convince ME that they were truly choosing each other and in love by 15.18, I have no idea why Jared couldn't see that, but whatever... He acted the heck out of that whole arc with Eileen, and his distress in 15.18 when Eileen disappeared felt genuine to me. The only piece missing from their relationship was the reunion between them I think everyone was expecting in 15.20, you know? So maybe it was just Jared's own work to rationalize the script he had to act out that didn't explicitly include Eileen and Sam ending up together. I don't know that he didn't enjoy the potential of that relationship while it was unfolding on screen, only that his post-finale comments felt weirdly jarring after we'd all watched a love story unfold between them all season.

But we're here to talk about writing fic, where we're 100% allowed to write any relationships we want. I've always said I personally ship Sam/Happiness first, so regardless of who I've paired him with, my goal is for him to be happy with them (and obviously for his partner to be equally happy with him, no matter who it is). But that's in the way they're written together in your fic, and not even really dependent on how things unfolded in canon.

I personally (since I'm mostly here for destiel focused fic anyway) haven't really written Sam's relationships as main focuses of a story, so I might not be the best person to ask if your fic is more Sam-centric. I've personally written Sam/Jess, Sam/Eileen, Sam/Rowena (and several times implied Sam/Eileen/Rowena... heck once I implied a potential for Sam/Donna, though it never developed in that fic), and in addition to those have also read Sam/Jo, Sam/Sarah Blake, Sam/Jody, Sam/Ruby, Sam/Original Female Character (some of the original characters I have ADORED, too, so that's always an option for you! Heck, I even wrote one in Plotbunny). I know a lot of people ship him with Gabriel, too (and sometimes as a threesome with Rowena). So if you see Sam as something other than straight, that's definitely an option for you, too.

As to the Amelia relationship, I haven't really read that one in fic because the audience in general also felt that was a bit of a weird relationship of convenience for both of them more than a true love/happiness match. The way it was handled in canon was.... odd, as well, and even the way their scenes together were shot had an air of unreality to them, to the point a LOT of the audience at the time questioned if she was even a real person, or if Sam's recollections were even accurate. I can see why Jared would've felt weird about that relationship, as well, especially given how abruptly it ended and then was never mentioned again in canon.

It's your fic, so honestly who do YOU find most interesting to pair Sam with for your story? Because that's all that matters in your fic.

#sam fucking winchester #i personally ship sam/happiness first so no matter what i consider first who he would be happiest in the context of what i'm writing #different stories with different themes sometimes make me see different ships for him in those circumstances #so rather than worry about what anyone else thinks... really think about what works for what you're writing :) #and good luck anon! :D #writing is hard #and sometimes hitting on the 'right' character for a role can help immensely :)