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yourmomxx · 10 months

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Family Line

father of mine masterlist

summary: the hunt for the monster starts. We find out what happened all those years ago between Dean and his daughter.

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, descriptions of blood, descriptions of murder, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 8,5k

a/n: we did it, guys! this is the last part of the father-of-mine series. I’m really sorry about the late upload, but I do hope it was worth the wait! This might be the ending of this series, but not quite the ending of the story … thank you all so much for sticking around and supporting this story, sequels and prequels about dean and his daughter will definitely come!

pt1 pt2 pt3

Sioux Falls 2007

It was late at night, and in Bobby Singer’s Junkyard, the lights were still on. Accompanying the chirping tunes of the cicadas, a fading pop song from somewhere in the ‘70s was trailing out the windows.

On the small wooden table in the kitchen, Dean and Sam Winchester had spread out a multitude of lore books found in Bobby’s bookshelf, some worn out, some torn, and Sam was currently leaned over a particularly ugly-written paragraph dedicated to the magical use of a pan’s flute.

“Dean, I can hear you being silent.” Sam raised his head to look his older brother in the eye. “What is it?”

Dean shrugged, threw a look at the numerous variations of old books about supernatural creatures laid out in front of them, then at his little brother.

“You’re overworking yourself, Sammy,” Dean pointed out. The keyboard clicked as he typed something on the laptop.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” Sam said. “I’m just trying to find a way for you to not die. You can’t exactly blame me for that.”

“Yes, exactly, we’ve been over it,” Dean countered. “And I told you there’s no way around it. I made a deal, that’s it. Period, no refunds.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Well, I don’t want that to be it.” He muttered under his breath.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself when they heard the sound of tiny footsteps over the floor.

Dean perked up and turned his head.

“Hey, my little love.”

A while ago, the soft tone in his brother’s words would have caught Sam completely off guard. By now, he was already getting used to the way Dean’s eyes had a different look in them – one of pure love – and he spoke with a softness as if his words alone should wrap their recipient up in satin cloth.

Sam turned around to look at who Dean was talking to, and was not surprised to see a small girl trutting towards them, little legs still uncoordinated after only just waking up. Her small fists were rubbing her squinted eyes, the light in the living room must be blinding her.

Y/N made her way over to Dean and made grabby hands up at him.

Dean chuckled and picked his daughter up under her arms, placing her carefully on his thigh as she nuzzled into his dark flannel shirt.

Sam smiled at the contrast of Dean’s shirt, and her bright yellow children’s nightgown with the washed out Led Zeppelin-logo printed on.

Dean’s big hand was rubbing circles on her back, as he craned his neck to bow it down to her.

“What are you doing awake so late, sweetheart?” He hushed.

Y/N nuzzled her nose into his neck. “’d a bad dream,” she mumbled.

Sam could see the emotion cross over his brother’s face for a brief second as he made eye contact with him.

They both knew that this could – would – happen. That little girl had been through so much already, at her young age, had seen and lost things no child should ever see or lose.

They both had known that nightmares would probably eventually start haunting her, but yet, they had still not been prepared for when it was the time.

Dean didn’t know what he should be feeling, his daughter had had a nightmare, and all he wanted was to wrap his arms around her, keep her there, and kill everything in her way to becoming happy.

But he knew he couldn’t do that. And that’s why he wanted to, so much more.

“Really?” He asked instead, hand not leaving her back. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

“Everybody was leaving me,” Y/N sniffled, small fist rubbing her nose. “You, Auntie Ellen, Jo, Uncle Sam, Grandpa Bobby.” Another sniffle.

“I was all alone.”

Dean felt like sobbing. A heavy weight had latched itself on his heart. Oh, his little girl. How much he loved her.

“Sweetheart, it was just a bad dream,” he promised to her. “We are not going to leave you alone, I swear.”

Y/N pulled her face from the crook of his neck and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes.

“Pinky promise?” She asked.

Dean lifted his free hand and linked his pinky finger with hers. “Pinky promise,” he said.

Something told him he had made a mistake. But he couldn’t care right now.

Still, he felt like a liar.

“Now,” he said, a conspiratorial tone in his words, “What do you say we get you back to bed and I stay until you fall asleep, hm? How does that sound?”

Y/N didn’t fuss long about it, she just nodded her head and nuzzled closer to him.

Dean understood the silent command, and lifted her into his arms as he stood up. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Sam looked after them as they disappeared up the stairs. Now alone, he turned his attention back to his research. Why he was reading everything about the dog Cerberus right now, he couldn’t quite decipher, but he was grasping onto every straw.

A few minutes passed by, and Dean was still not back. Another few, another few.

Sam frowned as he looked at the clock on the wall. 5.13 in the evening. Sam realized now that the clock was broken.

Curtly, he stood up from the table and climbed the stairs to the bedrooms.

The door to Y/N’s room was open, hiding the colored sign she had written her name on (with Dean’s help) to inform everyone of her territory.

Careful to be quiet, Sam stepped closer to the threshold, peeking into the dark room. A dim night light in the form of a crescent moon was burning on the nightstand. In the bed laid a small bundle of blankets and stuffed animals, which Sam could only guess was Y/N.

Next to her, holding the girl in his arms, Sam spotted Dean, probably holding on for dear life on the edge of the narrow bed.

Sam smiled at them.

Through the silence, a soft, hummed melody reached Sam’s ears, and he perked up.

He knew that song from somewhere, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Na-na na na. Nana na-a.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Dude, are you singing her Smells like Teen Spirit?”

Dean looked at him, grinning. “Yeah. It’s a classic.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Sam was the stupid one.

“I mean, look at her,” he said, his gaze shifting to his daughter again. “She’s gonna be a badass one day. Right? One day, you’re gonna be as badass and cool as your daddy.”

Oh yeah, that girl was out like a light.

Sam just shook his head chuckling. “All right, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Dean didn’t answer him, but he knew he heard him.

A few minutes after Sam had left, currently sitting at the kitchen table again, starting a new chapter of the same book, Dean came downstairs.

Wordlessly, he took his seat across from Sam, and pulled one of the lore books closer to him.

And though he had an idea where his brother’s new sense of determination came from, Sam didn’t say a word when Dean started reading.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

Now

When you called, for a brief second Sam was worried that Dean was gonna crash the car. The way his face morphed into shock, concern and then anger, while he was talking to you on the phone had his little brother worried.

After you hung up, Sam pretended not to notice the way Dean pushed further into the gas pedal.

The first rays of the morning sunlight made their way over the hills, when Sam and Dean arrived at the Group Home. Dean didn’t bother with a neat parking maneuver, and just turned the motor off, then made his way with fast steps over to the castle.

Sam trailed behind.

They had no problem entering the building, Maria had given them an official key card for their investigations. Dean stormed down the hallways with a fast step, as if he had memorized the entire way by heart.

Sam wouldn’t blame him.

You were sitting on your bed when they came in. Or more, cowering there.

Sam was all too familiar with the look of disturbed terror in your eyes, even when you firmly avoided looking at either of them.

“Y/N?” Dean moved a step forward, stretching his hand out towards you as if to soothingly touch your shoulder, but hesitated in his movement and pulled away.

Sam threw him a worried look that Dean didn’t seem to catch.

“What happened?”

Your fingers were continuously drumming against your knee pulled close to your chest.

“’d a bad dream,” you mumbled. Sam could hear the fear in your voice. Dean sat down in your chair opposite the bed.

“When I woke up, there was …” You swallowed and hardly squinted your eyes. “I don’t know what it was. Looked like two yellow … eyes.”

Sam couldn’t help the disgusted twist his face made at the word. He couldn’t imagine waking up to something like this.

Dean exchanged a look with him. Your story confirmed their theory even more.

On the bed, you had gone quiet again. Your fingers were still drumming an uneven pattern on your skin.

This didn’t make sense. This didn’t make sense. She was dead, Cass was dead. Roy was dead. Dean Winchester was here. He left you, and now he was here, but not for you, no, but for Roy. They were all dead.

And you were next.

“Have you ever heard of an alp?” Your head snapped up as Dean’s question pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“An Alp?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “I mean - yes, I came across that lore when I was still taking German literature.”

“You took German Literature?” Dean regretted his question as soon as he asked it.

“Yes,” you answered, but something had shifted in your tone. It was low and pressed. Shit. He knew he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. Sam felt like smacking his brother across the head.

“So you know what they are?” He asked instead, and you shrugged, looking at your feet again.

“Yes, well, I know that the Germans believed that an Alp would sit on their chests while they slept, and it would feed on their good dreams - plaguing the sleeping person with terrible nightmares. That’s why they used to have shortened beds, because if they weren’t lying down, the alp couldn’t sit on their chest.”

While you talked, realization hit you like a brick. Or more like a huge wave, rather, if the feeling of being violently ripped of all air was anything to go by.

“Oh my God,” You breathed out. “Cass and Roy both had nightmares before they died.” You looked between Dean and Sam with shock-widened eyes. “This Alp thing was the reason for all of this, right? I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“Not if we have a say in it.” Dean’s jaw remained stoically clenched as he spoke his promise.

“What did you dream about?” Sam asked.

You ducked your head even further into yourself and picked at the skin next to your nails. “’s it important?”

“It could be.”

You took a deep breath and bit the inside of your cheek. “Same as Roy,” you simply said. “Worst day of my life.”

And, okay. Sam didn’t get into college for being slow, he knew exactly what day that was. And judging by the brief flicker of emotion crossing over Dean’s face, he knew, too.

But he didn’t address it and only cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Look, if it really is an Alp – which it probably is – then we already know how to get rid of it.”

“We would lure it into a trap. You know, get us some … bait and then just –“ Dean symbolically dragged a finger across his throat.

You raised your eyebrows in concern. “And how do you think that’s gonna work?”

Admittedly, this hadn’t been your smartest moment, but given the circumstances you were in, you figured you could be forgiven.

Sam dipped his head. “That’s where you come in.”

“You can always say no,” Dean carefully offered. “If you don’t want to do it.”

You lifted your chin in the air. “This thing is the reason two of my best friends are dead,” you said. “I want to pay back the favor.”

Sam nodded. “Alright then.”

“So you guys got a plan?” You asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we do.”

—

It was loud in the cafeteria. It always was. Today, though, you were especially aware of it, because most of the noise was heavily directed towards you.

Or rather, about you, which had just the same effect in your opinion.

You had barely entered the big room and had already felt a few dozen eyes fixated on you. The whispering had started when you got closer to the buffet, and the occasional double-take and looking-fast-away-when-she-is-looking had continued when you had sat down.

Of course, how else should it be, you had been given the rehearsed “My condolences” or “I’m so sorry for your loss”.

Long story short, to you it felt like the day of Roy’s death all over again.

Except this time, they were serving pasta, and not chicken with rice.

It was days like these (which, in your opinion, had been happening far too often over the past few weeks), that made you hate this place even more. It’s not like you had had a reason for that before, the supervisors were nice, so were the helping staff and, of course, Maria.

Maria, who had taken you under her wing from the first day you arrived here. She had acted like a mother towards you, the one you had never had, no matter how hostile you had acted towards her.

Still, as you grew older, the whole thing felt simply more washed out and sickening.

Maybe this really was just a side effect of puberty, as your gynecologist had said.

As you let your gaze travel over the many familiar faces, you couldn’t help but notice that Finn wasn’t under any of them.

Finn, your beloved Finn. You then suddenly remembered the text conversation the two of you had had the other night. Before, well – everything. You still needed to stay true to that.

Silently, you made a note to yourself in your head, to drop by his room straight after lu-

A broad silhouette squeezing into the seat opposite you blocked your view over the hall, and your eyebrows shot up as you realized who it was.

“Uhm, hello?” You asked as Dean folded his hands on the table.

“You told everyone I was dead?” He asked, purposely skimming over your question.

You frowned and opened the small package of parmesan. “Well, aren’t you? About six times?”

Dean frowned and you caught him counting something under his breath with his fingers.

You shook your head, making a point of ignoring him and poured sauce over the dry spaghetti.

“That’s not even my point.”

“What, you’re saying you didn’t barge into the middle of my lunch – after the night I had – to scold me over the inaccuracy of your death rate?” You clicked your tongue. “Surprise.”

Dean apparently didn’t deem it necessary to address your sarcastic tone. That, or he knew just how much he deserved it, which you were fine with, either way.

“Look,” he started, and Jesus, this was going to be serious. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night.”

Confused, you tilted your head.

“I mean about the dream,” Dean quickly added. “I mean, we both know what it was about, and I just …” He cut himself off, cleared his throat, and let out a short breath that was probably supposed to be failed attempt at a laugh.

“I’m not a big … talking guy, you know? But I just … I always told myself, if I ever had kids, that I would be different then. That …” He stopped again.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You scoffed. “You’re a bit late for that,” you spat. “I mean, it’s been what, almost a decade? ‘Sorry’ travels far, but not that many years.”

“I know that,” Dean said, “But I want you to know, that-“

“Well, I don’t want to know!” You interrupted him. Maybe too loud, if the simultaneous turn of heads was anything to go by. “I don’t want you to tell me anything. No excuses, no explanations, I want, and I need absolutely nothing from you, you understand?”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek.

“Believe me, I do.” He said. “But still-“

“No!” The dishes clattered as you slammed your hand on the table. “Dean, you don’t understand! You just left me here, at this orphanage –“

“It’s a group home.”

“Same thing, Dean!” You snapped. “Just a fancier word.”

Dean carefully pulled his hand away from the table, folding it with his other in his lap. You could feel him watching you, but you consequently avoided his gaze.

“Look, I’m not gonna have this conversation right now,” You decided. “I am going to go talk to my best friend, and when I go to sleep, I’ll try not to get killed! So goodbye.”

And with that, you picked up your still full lunch-tray, dumped it on one of the cleaning wagons, and made your way out of the cafeteria.

You never turned around to see Dean looking after you.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

St. George, Louisiana 2012

Dean Winchester was standing by a window. Through the clean glass he had a clear view of green gardens, well-kept flowers and trees leaning in the soft breeze of the wind.

Further away, he spotted the tall hedge walls of something that had to be a garden maze.

“I hope you know just how grateful I am for what you and your brother did for me.”

The voice of Maria Whitlock lifted Dean out of his thoughts, and he turned around to face the older woman.

She spoke in a soothing tone, one that reminded him of a mother he never had, but learned to long for.

Dean nodded. “That’s our job.”

Maria gave him a look and tilted her head. He was standing in her office, a neatly tidied room with a shelf for books and files, and a rather expensive looking desk. Very clean as well.

“What you decided to do was probably very hard,” she continued. “But I can assure you, in most cases, it turns out to be the better option for both parties.”

He didn’t like the way she talked about his plan like it was a good thing, when it wasn’t. It didn’t make him a good person for doing it.

“I’m sure, Dean, that there will be a lovely family out there who will take care of her –“

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly interrupted her. It was the first time in here he had spoken more than for words. “I don’t … I don’t want someone else to take her in.”

Maria raised her skeptical eyebrows at him. “Do I understand correctly, Dean?” She asked. “You want her to just - stay here?” And her tone was implying exactly what she held of that idea.

“Look, I know how that sounds.”

“I really hope you do.”

“But my job doesn’t allow me to properly take care of her. When Bobby was still - well, she stayed with him, and we visited her from time to time.”

Maria nodded. “I understand. But what you have to understand, is, that this will surely not be easy for her. Whereas many of the elder children indeed do live here, the younger ones are usually adopted by a foster family who can take care of them. Who can love them,” she added.

Dean looked out the window again.

“I understand that,” He said. “But this is how I want it.”

He couldn’t see Maria behind him, as he was turned away from her, but he could well sense the way her observing, maybe judging gaze was burning between his shoulder blades.

“Well, then.” She sighed.

And as Dean watched the flowers dance in the wind, listening to Maria shuffling through her papers, he couldn’t help but think that this might be one of the most selfish decisions he has ever made.

—

Soft wind was tugging at Dean’s hair. Somewhere in the distance he was aware of the rippling water of a small fountain.

Dean tried to not actively think of what he was doing here. Of the consequences his actions would inevitably cause. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Y/N’s hand was holding his in a strong grip, as they walked up to Maria and he greeted her.

Maria leaned down to be on eye level with his daughter and smiled at her.

“Hello Y/N, it’s very nice to meet you. Your Dad has told me so much about you! I’m sure you’ll settle in here just nicely.”

Dean crouched down and placed both his arms on Y/N’s for her to look at him. She had been eyeing Maria and the castle suspiciously.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he started. “Maria is really, really nice. And because Uncle Sam and I have to work so much, she is going to take very good care of you.”

Y/N averted his eyes and stared at her shoes. Then, sh burst forward, slung her small arms around Dean’s neck and buried her face in his chest.

“I wanna go with you,” she mumbled into his jacket. Dean sighed. With a heavy heart, be broke out of the embrace. “I promise I’m old enough, I want to go with you!” She pleaded again. With every word, Dean’s heart shattered just a bit more.

“Look, you remember when you stayed with Grandpa Bobby for a while when me and Uncle Sammy had to work?” She nodded, sniffling.

“This is gonna be just like that. I promise.”

Y/N sniffled again. Then she held out her hand to him. “Pinky promise?”

I promise that we’ll be fine.

I promise that we’d never just leave you alone.

I promise that Grandpa Bobby will be alright.

Dean pulled Y/N into his chest again. He breathed in deep, as if that would somehow help him savor this moment, savor her to be engraved in his brain to never forget. His little girl, the only thing good and pure in his life.

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart again.

He stood up, and even though he wasn’t that old, everything in his body hurt at the movement.

“But I don’t know anyone here!” Y/N said again. It has been her go-to argument the entire car ride to the castle.

“I want to go with you and Uncle Sam!”

“Y/N!” The sharpness in Dean’s tone felt like it was cutting him. “I said you can’t.”

Her bottom lip started to tremble, before a big tear rolled down her cheek. Then another one, and another one, until she was full-on sobbing.

“Please, Dad!” She cried, and Dean’s heart shattered.

Behind her, Maria put a caring hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, sweetie, say goodbye to your dad.”

Y/N violently shook her hand off her body. “No! No, I don’t want to go with you! I want to stay with my dad!”

Maria and Dean exchanged a look. In her eyes, he recognized something that told him to change his mind.

It took everything in Dean to turn around and walk away.

He fixated his eyes on his car a few feet away from him. He wasn’t walking very fast, but with the weight that felt tied to his feet, it was the best he could do.

Behind him, Y/N kept crying. And as she was pleading and pleading, for him to come back, for him to stay, the feeling of realization started heavily sinking in, that he was really waking away.

Not only from this situation, from his daughters cries, but from her. From his child.

His feet felt even heavier.

When he reached the car door and opened it, he didn’t feel anything. Everything happened in a haze. He vaguely registered starting the car and pressing his foot on the gas pedal.

His daughter’s sobs were still replaying over and over in his mind like the sounds of a broken vinyl, as the naked road flew by the dirty windows.

Sam didn’t address the single tear that rolled down his brother’s cheek. And Dean just kept driving.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

Now

Since forever on, you had never been quite good with your emotions. Portraying them, talking about them, feeling them.

It was an obstacle.

Looking back at it, you figured it was probably somehow running in your family, the whole being emotionally unavailable thing.

Could that be inherited? According to your biology teacher, yes, but you didn’t know how well you believed that.

Nevertheless, as you knocked on the cold door that was the entrance to your - only left – best friend’s room, emotions welled up in your throat as choking as a tidal wave clashing its weight over your head.

It was dark in there. The curtains had been pulled closed and the thick material wouldn’t let a flicker of daylight in the room.

A smell hung over the entire place, of stale air and leftover food, and the sensation of hopelessness. Finn was sitting on the edge of his bed, a dark silhouette staring crooked at his hands in his lap, only illuminated by the weak light of the bedside lamp.

Without properly acknowledging him, you took quick strides to the other side of the room, and without further ado, ripped his curtains open.

The sun was already lowering down the horizon again, but the leftover light was still enough to turn the dark silhouettes in the bedroom into concrete shapes, of dirty plates, glasses, and clothes scattered all over the floor.

From his place on the bed, Finn groaned lowly, like a small bear being awaken from hibernation.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes as you sat down next to him. The bed dipped under your weight and you moved over a few study sheets that laid on his duvet.

“Hey,” you said.

Finn dropped his hands into his lap again and turned his tired gaze on you.

“Hey,” he said back.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Finn’s eyes tiredly scanned the room around him, the mess it was in, and then shook his head.

“Nah.”

“Alright.” You weren’t, really, but that conversation could wait until another time.

“How you holdin’ up?”

Finn tilted his head to you in a way that said ‘Ain’t it obvious?’ and you shrugged in response. “Stupid question, got it.”

Finn sighed.

There was a silence building between the two of you that you didn’t like. You kept yourself from fidgeting impatiently on the sheets.

“I just-“ Finn cut himself off and ruffled his hand through his hair. “Ever since – well, yesterday – I’ve been thinking about …”

He broke off again, blinking with his face towards the ceiling to avoid the falling of tears.

“Y/N, the last thing I said to her, was – we fought.” Finn’s confession was almost a whimper as he looked at you, awaiting your reaction.

Your heart broke at the look in his eyes, so clouded full with guilt and self-loathing, you almost didn’t recognize him.

“Oh, Finn, she loved you.” You sighed, and placed a gentle yet firm hand on his arm. “She knew what you were going through, what we were all going through. And trust me, she never, not for a second, held it against you. That was one moment out of almost ten years we all spent together. It didn’t mean anything, not in the long run.”

Finn sniffed and rubbed his nose, diverting his gaze to his hands again.

“Finn, she didn’t die hating you.” You put emphasis on every word as much as you could, because you wanted him to hear you, to understand, to believe. You didn’t want to let him wallow in his own self-destructing thoughts about something that wasn’t even true, not in the slightest bit.

Finn just hummed, but didn’t meet your eyes, just kept them trained on his lap. You sighed and let your hand slowly slide from his arm.

For a while, it was quiet again.

“My father is here,” you then blurted out.

Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “The one that died?”

“Yeah.” You weighed your head. “In my defense, I thought he died too, until he showed up in a fancy suit, investigating my best friend’s murder.”

The typical phrase of ‘seeing gears turning in someone’s head’ was the only way you would describe what you were seeing displayed on Finn’s face right now, just before the realization hit him.

“Wait, your father’s one of the hot FBI agents?”

You pursed your lips and nodded.

Finn blinked in disbelief.

“Wow,” He breathed out.

“Yup.” You said, popping the ‘p’. “Just got a lot less hot, huh?”

Finn raised his hands in surrender and shook his head. “For my own safety, I’m really not gonna answer that.”

You let out a laugh and playfully shoved him with your shoulder.

“Idiot.”

Finn grinned. “You love me.”

You hummed. “You’re right, I really do.”

A long while later, the door closed behind you again with a click.

Finn had to promise you to get in touch with you if he felt the need to, and to at least try and keep his room in order. After a brief conversation of how his view of himself and his ‘need to call you’ was very different from yours, you had hugged him and decided to leave.

Before you had walked out, your hand had rested on the handle, and you had turned around to Finn, not quite looking him in the eye.

“You know I love you too, right?” You had said. “No matter what happens.”

Finn frowned, but if he got suspicious, he didn’t mention it. “I know. Same here.”

You swallowed and nodded.

Then you left the room.

Now you were standing outside of his door, gaze drifting into the distance, and the same weight that had been lifted off your shoulders replaced by another one, just as heavy.

Funny, how, even if indirectly, saying your Goodbyes, made the lingering presence of death looming over you like a dark shadow much more real. If only one thing went wrong tonight, then-

You shook your head at the thought. No, Sam and Dean were going to take care of it, they promised. You had to put their trust into them with this.

But if tonight really was it, then you were content with the feeling that the last conversation you had, had been with Finnegan Beckett.

The walk back to your room stretched longer than usual.

Sooner than you would like it to, the sun disappeared behind the hills and night reigned over the land.

Sam and Dean were standing in your room, rehearsing their – honestly, pretty vague – plan with you, making sure you knew exactly how everything would go down. To be fair, you didn’t really play a big part in the whole thing, but it was nice having some sort of reassurance.

“Alright, so you know what to do?” Sam questioned once again.

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Lay still and look pretty,” you joked. “And try not to get killed.”

“Leave that last part to us,” said Dean. “You don’t have to worry about anything. By the time you wake up, everything will be over.”

You nodded.

You had seen it in Dean’s eyes, that he wasn’t all in with the idea of using you as bait, but you had done it nevertheless.

You weren’t a little child anymore, especially not his, he wasn’t going to decide what you wanted or not wanted to risk.

You took a deep breath that lifted your shoulders and huffed it back out. You were going to do this. It was easy.

—

Like hell it was.

Whoever told you you had the easiest part of the plan had been fucking lying to you. Turns out, sleeping is way harder with the knowledge of probable death hanging over your head like a dark cloud.

Every time your eyes slipped closed, a glimpse of doubt squeezed its way into your mind. What if Sam and Dean didn’t make it? What if everything went wrong? What if, in the end, you did die?

The sheets were already pooling crumbled by your feet when you slipped out of consciousness.

The mass of hot bodies pressing together and towering over you was clamming. A figure was running away from you, you were chasing after it. You smelt old leather and gunpowder. It made you feel comforted. You wanted more of it.

Gravel clattered underneath your boots as you got out of the car on your own, like all the big girls would.

“Look, Daddy!” But Daddy wasn’t there.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” There she was again, the nice girl with the black hair. She held out her hand and you went to grab it, her warm presence looming you in, and then the floor opened up under your feet and you were falling into nothingness.

Your heart pounded rapidly in your chest, as you startled awake in your bed, feeling your lungs tighten up and making it hard to breathe.

Your panicked gaze flew to the door of your room – wide open, the light of the hall casting a dim shadow into the room.

“Wha- Sam! Dean!” Hastily, you pulled the covers off your body and hurried out the door. Something must have gone wrong, terribly, terribly wrong.

You followed the sound of footsteps and scuffle down the hallway, turned the lights on where it had gone off at a few junctions.

Your breathing was still shallow, but you pushed through that and your still dazing mind, adrenaline pumping through your veins with every step you took.

Rapidly turning around another corner, you almost stumbled over the long legs of Sam’s body on the floor. You came to an abrupt halt and kneeled worried next to him.

“Sam? Oh my God, are you-“

Sam groaned and moved his head, eyes still pressed shut. “’s strong,” he babbled, and you tried your hardest to understand what he was saying.

By the way he was slurring his words, you had well reason to think he had suffered a concussion.

“It’s alright, stay here,” you ordered him, as he tried to sit up.

Only then, you first noticed the struggling noises a few feet away from you, and lifted your eyes away from Sam to check where they were coming from.

What you saw almost made your heart drop into your stomach.

Not that far away from you, maybe a few armlengths, was Dean, laying on the floor on his back just like his brother. But he was wrestling with something sitting on his chest, something small and hairy, hunchbacked like an old witch but only with the size of a cat.

The thing, which had to be the Alp, had long, bony limbs, and was fighting tooth and nail, hissing, biting and scratching, against Dean.

It reminded you of a gremlin, of sorts.

In your head, you heard Roy’s voice scold you, “There’s a distinct difference between all supernatural creatures. Elves don’t equal fairies, and gremlins don’t equal goblins, because while gremlins are fuzzy and cute in the beginning and only bad later when they turn, goblins have always been known for harassing humans.”

Alright, so no gremlin then.

Near you, Dean was still rolling around on the floor, fighting for the upper hand with the Alp.

Your heart sped up as you realized that something had to be wrong. Because why wasn’t he just killing it?

“So how do you kill it?”

Sam pulled something out of his duffel bag and turned it in his hands, the dim light of your lamp reflecting on the material. “Silver dagger dipped in vampire blood.” He spoke.

“Wait – vampires bleed?”

Dean scoffed. “This isn’t Twilight, kiddo. Yes, vampires bleed.”

You shrugged and inspected the phial he had laid into your hand. “I was thinking more of Fear Street, but alright.”

Dean ignored that he didn’t know what that was, but made a mental note to look it up later.

Sam stuffed the dagger back into his arsenal.

“You don’t have to worry about that part, though,” He assured you. “That’s what we’re here for.”

Dean nodded. “He’s right. You just dream sweet, and we’ll handle the rest. Fool-proof.”

You nodded, passing Dean the blood back. You could only hope they were right.

The shining silver of the dagger caught your eye. It had most likely been scattered away from Dean and landed near a wall, far out of his reach.

You took quick steps over to pick it up, Dean’s struggling grunts making you alert, and probably the reason why you didn’t think about what you did next, you just did it.

The silver dagger felt light in your hands, coated in the dark fluid of what had to be vampire blood. The blade reflected the clinical white light from the hallway as you lifted it up over your head, and, using the strength of both your hands, pushed it with force into the monster’s upper torso.

The squelching sound it made, as it penetrated bristly fur, skin, and organs, would later make you feel repulsed and gagging, sort of like nails scratching on a blackboard, but in this moment, you just clenched the dagger tighter and pushed it further into the monster’s chest.

The screech it let out could not be compared to any animalistic sounds you had ever heard before. In a swift move, you pulled the weapon out of the Alp’s body, and the small creature slumped to the floor right next to Dean.

You waited for a second. Two, three panting breaths. Dean was the first to move. He put a hand somewhere where the thing’s neck should be.

Then, swallowing in-between his hard breaths, he nodded. “Done,” was all he said. But it was enough for a sigh of relief to leave your tired lungs, and you sunk to the ground right next to him.

Looking closer at its lifeless body, the Alp had more similarity with one of those dead, stuffed animals that hunters hung in their houses as trophies. But maybe that was just rigor mortis.

Through your haze, you barely registered Dean clapping a firm hand on your shoulder. You turned your head to look at him, eyes suddenly feeling heavy as the adrenaline was wearing off. Like sucking air out of a balloon.

“You did good today, kid.” He said, and though you were tired, in his eyes you could see that he meant it. It filled your chest with a warmth that hadn’t been at home in there since … God knows when, and it made you smile.

Near you, Sam staggered closer, still holding his hurting ribs, and tilted his head as he squinted his eyes at the lifeless Alp before you.

“Is it just me or does it … look like a cat?”

You and Dean both looked over at him, and then at the dead monster on the floor.

“Looks more like a gremlin-goblin hybrid,” You panted. “A gromblin.”

Sam threw you a look of pure confusion, while Dean was grinning proudly. You smiled back. It felt honest.

And very likely, it was.

-- It was quiet again.

From the fight and struggles a few days ago was no trace left, as you stood by your desk and sorted through some old photographs you had replaced on your wall.

The pictures you were sorting through mostly showed you, Finn, Roy and Cass together.

At school, at the movies, going out to eat.

You sighed and plucked some tape from the back of another one.

Right at that moment, a knock sounded from your door. Without even looking up from Cass and Roy smiling at you, holding a stray cat, you let out a “Come in,” at the person on the other side of the door.

The familiar sound of the hinges creaking signified the opening and closing of the door. And then, Dean Winchester was standing in your room.

“Uhm …” He was rubbing his neck awkwardly, as you looked at him expectantly.

“Hey. What’s up?” You asked, and put the photographs in a drawer.

Dean took a deep breath and looked at you. He wasn’t wearing the same casual clothes as he had been that terrible night, but had settled on his FBI suit again. Maybe for effect.

“Look, I was just-“ Dean fumbled for a second and then took a seat on the small chair that was standing around. “We should talk. This time for real.”

You tilted your head, and avoided looking at him.

Dean didn’t wait for any response, he simply kept talking. Maye rambling.

“I know I already tried, but it wasn’t my best, so I …” He sighed.

“I never explained anything to you. why things went down how they did. Y/N, please look at me.”

You had sat down in your deskchair, pulling your legs to your chest and now did your best to fix your eyes on Dean.

“What we do, the hunting … it’s no way to grow up for a child. I know how that is. And I never, ever, wanted that for you. I already had plans to end things sooner than they did, but then ..” He shook his head. “Didn’t work out. So, when Bobby died, I saw no other chance than to get you somewhere else. And I took that chance to just … remove you from my life, as hard as it was.”

“But I promise you, Y/N, it was all just to keep you safe. I never would’ve done it if there had been another way. And I wanted you to know that.”

Dean stood on his feet again and placed the chair back on its original spot. You looked away as he reached for the door handle, to get out of your life, again.

“So you’re just gonna leave? Again?” Your words were accusing and they were meant to be that way, but still you almost felt bad, as Dean dropped his hand by his side and let out a sigh.

“Like I said, it was for the best. Still is, in my opinion.”

“What, to remove me from your life again?” You jumped out of your chair, fury burning in your eyes and voice growing louder with every word you spoke.

“Y/N, you don’t get it-“

“No, you don’t get it!” You jelled at him. What was burning in your eyes were now more tears than anger, but it didn’t matter.

“For years, I’ve been trying to … to figure out what I did wrong. For years, I’ve been trying to do better, every day, I wanted to be better, because I thought —. I thought that if I had good grades, and if I started working out, and if I was always on my best behavior … I thought that you would come and get me. But somehow you never did. And I just … I don’t understand, I want you to tell me, what did I do wrong, what made you leave, because I swear, I’ll change. I’ll change, and I’ll work on it, just please…” A begging undertone accompanied your tear-choked words. “Don’t leave me here again.”

Wordlessly, Dean quickly crossed the room and put his arms around you. it took you a second to realize what was even happening, before you clung to his suit jacket, digging all your strength into it, as if the fabric was the only think that kept you from drowning in black water.

You felt the shadow of warmth, as Dean turned his head to press a featherlight kiss into your hair.

“I regret having to leave you.” He murmured next to your ear. “But what I do not regret is keeping you safe. Even if that meant leaving you.”

You sniffled, and pulled away from him. Dean’s own face wasn’t full of fresh tear stains, but still you could see the sincerity and something like sadness on his features.

You wiped your cheeks to clean them off the drying liquids.

“I’m older now,” You said, and Dean scoffed, already knowing where this was headed. “No, please, listen to me! I’m older, I can make my own choices, take my own risks. You saw how great I was a few days ago!”

“Yes, but that was one monster!” Dean countered. “Out there, there are hundreds of those things. We don’t get enough sleep, no nice food, not even nice beds! Trust me, Y/N, compared to this-“ he gestured around your room, “what we do has nothing on it.”

You shook your head. “But you’re together when you do it. You and Sam. And I just want that, I want to be with you.”

Dean sighed and took a step back.

“Please, Dean, I’m begging you!” You urged. “You said you never wanted to come back here, but now you had to, I mean – don’t you think that’s some sort of … sign or something?”

“I don’t believe in signs.”

“Well, screw signs, I’m here!” You pointed to yourself. Your voice was desperate, but so were you.

“I am here, and I want you to take me with you.” And in a whisper, you repeated, “Please, Dean, this time – let me come with you.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, Dean heavily sighed and pulled the chair closer to him to sit down.

The church bells were tolling a loud, fast tune. It was ironic, you thought, and you didn’t know if you should cry or laugh about it.

You watched as two dark caskets were lowered down into the earth, into two separate 6-feet deep holes right next to each other.

The gravestones had not yet been prepared, but you didn’t exactly need those anyway. If the huge pictures were any indicator on who was getting buried here.

This was your last time saying Goodbye. To Cass and to Roy, and, unfortunately, to the last one remaining.

Funerals weren’t for the dead, you had once read somewhere, they were for the living, for those seeking closure in their desperate times of grief.

You had thought it to be bullshit, what difference would a burial make in a journey of overcoming the loss of someone so important?

But, as you threw a full hand of dark earth onto each of the dark caskets, you somehow understood. It was one weight less.

They were still here, some part of them. Something you could always come back to, they hadn’t just vanished off the back off the earth. That thought was, indeed, comforting.

Damn life lessons that are right.

“Hey,” you suddenly heard a voice next to you, and were a bit surprised to see Finn standing there.

You had been too lost in your own thoughts to even notice him approaching. The lack of sleep probably didn’t help your attention skills much, either.

“Hey,” you answered.

“Look, I need to tell you something,” you started, just at the same time as Finn said, “I know what you wanna say.”

Both of you let out quiet laughs.

“You first,” He said.

You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him, scanning the gravestones before you as if you had known everyone buried under them personally.

“Sam and Dean,” you started, “I mean, they’ve been here for a while and honestly, I never even thought I’d see them again. So I never really thought about what would happen if they would just – show up, you know?”

Interesting, Peter Gravill only lived to be 57 years old.

“But now they’re here, and I just-“

“I get it.” Finn suddenly interrupted you. Your head whirled around so fast you were afraid you were gonna get whiplash.

At your confused look, he added, “I mean, if my parents suddenly showed up on my doorstep and gave me the option of going with them –“ he shrugged his shoulders. “-I would most definitely take it.”

Before you could even think about it, you already lunged forwards and wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face in his neck and holding him tightly.

The hot feeling of tears burned behind your eyes, but you managed to put them away. You pulled Finn even closer.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

“You’re still younger than me.”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

The hug lasted endless, but endless went by way too quickly. You fixed Finn’s suit jacket, apologized for the tear- and make-up stains you had gotten on the expensive material, and waved him a last Goodbye.

Down by the parking lot, a black car was already waiting for you, two adult men leaning against it. They had been watching the entire thing go down from a safe distance, not wanting to interfere in either the funeral, or the emotional Goodbyes.

Sam tried not to think about what laid ahead of them, or behind them, as his niece walked towards them, away from the graves of her best friends, and leaving the only one that was still alive, behind.

His niece. How long hadn’t he said that title, let alone thought it.

He liked the familiarity of it. The rightness.

Dean opened a creaking car door for you, as you reached them.

“You ready?” He asked.

Sam could see your shoulders tighten, as you lifted your chin, and looked his brother straight in the eye.

“Yeah.”

Dean nodded, and you got in the backseat. He slammed the car door closed behind you. With one last look at his younger brother, Dean rounded Baby and took his place as the driver, Sam claiming shotgun.

Behind them, you leaned your head against the window as the engine roared and you drove off.

The car smelt like leather and gunpowder. It made you feel comforted.

And in the backseat of an old 1967 Chevy Impala, listening to the music that was a mix of Metallica, Kansas and Billy Joel, you slept the best night’s sleep you had had in weeks.

taglist:

@psycho-magnotheric-slime , @openmindedperson2200 , @emily-roberts

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jinkieswouldyoulookatthis · 7 months

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Anti-destiel Wank (sorry but I have to)

If you hardcore ship Destiel, please just scroll on by. Please.

Ok, I'm gonna get myself in trouble, I'm sure, but I gotta get this off my chest...

Destiel may be a perfectly fine ship,

but,

IT'S JUST A SHIP.

In the actual context of the show there IS NO ROMANTIC OR SEXUAL TENSION/RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN DEAN AND CAS.*

Full fucking stop.

Subtext can be interpreted in ANY WAY YOU WANT. It is subjective. You will find whatever you look for in it. Please stop waving subtext interpretations around as if they were objective facts, they aren't. Subtext, by its very definition, relies on implied meaning and understanding, this means it is a subjective interpretation of the media that varies from viewer to viewer. The inherent variations are what make it fanon/headcanon instead of canon.

If you see tension of that sort there and it makes you happy to postulate the what if, then go ahead, that is what fanon and head canon and fan fiction is all about. But if the fact that the tension you think you see isn't being addressed in actual canon makes you grumpy, maybe you need to take some of the fanatic out of your fanning. If you are beginning to think the show creators are actively trying to repress Dean's "true sexuality and feelings" because they are evil, you might need to consider that you've dug in too deep.

Because, like I ship wincest. Yeah, I said it. But I am aware that canon doesn't actually include any level of sexual or romantic (in the modern sense) relationship between Sam and Dean. Wincest is not canon.

Now, are Sam and Dean the real "love" story of the show? Yes, yes they are. That has always been 100% the entire point of Supernatural, the great love story of two brothers struggling to save the world together. It's about family and everything that means, but at its heart, it is about Sam and Dean WInchester. Not all kisses and cuddles and sex kind of love, but love nonetheless. Full stop.

Now, the fact that Destiel is such a popular ship is not surprising to me in the least. Jensen and Misha are two gorgeous guys who share a lot of chemistry on screen and off. And, it is canon that Cas loves Dean. That has been evident since Lazarus Rising (4x01) when Cas was introduced. Castiel's love of Dean Winchester has been his character's main motivation all along and culminated with Cas sacrificing himself to save Dean, after telling him that he loved him in Despair (15x18)

But Dean's main motivation has always been to watch out for his brother. And though Castiel became Dean's best friend, he still comes second to Sam. Nothing against Cas, he just isn't Sam.

So why are so many people so absolutely convinced that Destiel is so real within the context of the story?

Well, I'm pretty sure that it is the same reason that they are so opposed to the idea of wincest.

As we all know, incest is bad, mmmkay? Incest is probably one of the biggest, strongest, cultural taboos we have. So it makes perfect sense that the idea of two blood-related brothers having sexual or romantic feelings for each other is considered icky. It's so off putting that it is a complete no go for even fantasizing about for most people. And that's probably a good thing, tbh, incest should be taboo. But where does that taboo spring from? Why is it so deeply off limits? There are several reasons, but the two main ones are:

That incest can lead to inbreeding.

That incest too often involves molestation or rape of children.

Both of these are seriously bad enough that we all pretty much collectively agree to avoid incestuous relationships. But, do either of these two reasons really apply in the case of Sam and Dean?

The short answer is no. Primarily this is because they are fictional characters that are being played by unrelated actors. But to humor the objectors we'll look at it closer.

We can take the first one right off the table. As two cis men, neither of them is capable of becoming pregnant, so outside of the mpreg (male pregnancy) or gender bending subsets of fanfic tropes, this is not applicable.

The second reason only becomes an issue when talking about the characters earlier in their lives, pre-show or flashbacks. Weecest or teencest, or whatever, are things, but these typically have separate ship names for a reason, because even when dealing with fictional characters this squicks a lot of folks who are otherwise down with the wincest ship. So most content is tagged or labeled as its specific flavor, so anyone can find it or avoid it. But wincest that involves adult Sam and Dean (the specific pairing I'm referring to in this post) doesn't apply to the second reason listed above.

So there really is nothing morally wrong with Sam and Dean having sex with each other. I know that statement is going to bother a whole lot of people, but it is true. Just because something is taboo does not automatically make it morally wrong. Being gay used to be taboo in our culture, and is still taboo for way too many people, even though there is nothing morally wrong with homosexuality.

Now, I wasn't in the fandom back at the beginning of the show, but I've heard tell that the very first Sam/Dean fic was posted just a few hours after the pilot episode aired. A few hours, that's all it took for some highly motivated fan to type out a story where they were more than just brothers. The story is called Reunion. If you watch the pilot, even with your anti-incest goggles on, the chemistry between Jared and Jensen is palpable throughout. There is a reason the show lasted for 15 years, and that reason is that Sam and Dean just work on screen so well together. So if it only took one episode for that ship to be born, what did all the future destiel shippers do? Well I imagine they felt somewhat uncomfortable for the first 60 episodes.

Flash forward to season four and the introduction of Castiel. Finally there was another male character for fans squicked by the notion of sweet, sweet brother loving to focus on! Cas was clearly fixated on Dean more than Sam, which followed the plot since Cas had been instructed to rescue Dean from Hell. As it would turn out, the brothers were destined to be the meatsuits that Michael and Lucifer wore to the big prize fight to determine the fate of the world. Prepping Sam for Lucifer involved him consuming demon blood, which made most of the angelic host view him as an abomination, a factor that Cas had to learn to get past in his relationship with the younger brother. But Dean was ready to go right out of the box, no assembly required for Michael. Castiel, and many of his angelic brethren, as well as a lot of Demons, seem to be drawn to Dean in a way that they just aren't drawn to Sam. Is this fair? Hell no. But I mean, look at him! Jensen has sexual tension with literally everything he comes in contact with, people, food, his car, the man oozes sexual attraction. Don't get me wrong, Jared is a sexy fucking ball of sunshine, and our Sammy is a damned attractive man, but he tends to be more repressed and less openly sexual than his brother, so it is what it is.

Where was I going with this? That's a good question. I got a bit distracted, sorry. Oh right...

At its root, destiel is a reactive projection. There is undeniable tension between characters in the show. Since all of the main cast are male, that tension is highly homoerotic. The two main characters, who are undeniably emotionally enmeshed and co-dependent with each other (a very well established canon fact btw), happen to be blood-related brothers. Oh no! Where is all that tension coming from since we cannot admit or accept that it's coming from them? Ah ha! Here is a new male character that we like, yes, it is obviously coming from his interactions with one of the brothers, even though he wasn't in the first 60 episodes. Yes, it all makes perfect sense now, all that tension was merely foreshadowing.

I've read through all the destiel subtext posts. I've gone back and watched all the scenes they reference multiple times with the express purpose of finding destiel. I'm telling you it is just a fanon ship. Which is 100% fine and good, ship that ship, just stop declaring it more canon than canon, because it's not.

And if you don't like fictional incest, cool, cool, you don't have to. But the underlying sexual tension existed in the first 60 episodes prior to Misha being cast on the show, so it was coming from somewhere. And it'd be cooler if you learned how to scroll past people shipping wincest, like I'm sure you do for all the other weirdass, squicky shit that people post all over the internet. But if it makes your heart beat a little faster to imagine that Dean and Cas have eyesex but that Dean and Sam don't, that's fine. I think it's delusional because neither ship is actually canon and both are 100% A-Ok in fanon, and honestly Jensen doesn't seem to be able to control his eyes, which is not something anyone should feel bad about (it's fucking marvelous) but you do you.

*Castiel does love Dean. He confessed as much, but Dean did not reciprocate. What I am referencing is a mutual romance or attraction, which does not exist.

#anti destiel #anti destihellers #anti hellers #wincest #canon vs fanon #fandom wank #destiel wank #I've been sitting on & adding to/refining this post since Feb 2018 time for it to see the light of day

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samsrowena · 1 year

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#just curious <3 #spn.txt #spn polls

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spngirlpolls · 11 months

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#spngirlpolls #spn polls #spn #supernatural #supernatural polls

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deancasbigbang · 7 months

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Title: A Hard Place

Author: Deanna

Artist: parhelion_ava

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel Novak; Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore; Dean/Meg (one time); Castiel/Mick (one time); Dean/Robin (one time)

Length: 90000

Warnings: undefined

Tags: Professor Castiel Novak; student/rockstar Dean Winchester; BDSM AU; dom Cas; sub Dean; flogging; rough sex; fluff; dom/sub drop; happy ending

Posting Date: October 19, 2023

Summary: Castiel Novak is a college Professor, who values education beyond all else. That is, until a certain rockstar enrolls in his class. As a Dom at the BDSM club “A Hard Place”, Castiel thinks he’ll never find his perfect, permanent sub. When rockstar Dean Winchester needs to go back to college, he’s reluctant to do so. That is, until he meets his smoking hot Professor. Dean is torn between his Professor and a wing-masked Angel he meets at a BDSM club.

Excerpt: Towards the end of class, Castiel notices that some of the students have lost focus. A few girls have even attempted to take selfies with the rockstar. If there had been more time left in their session, Castiel might have said something. Instead, he decides to assign a prompt for the students to work on over the weekend, asking them what they hope to gain out of this class. To wrap things up, Castiel writes his name on the whiteboard behind his desk, along with his phone number. “All my contact information is on the syllabus, but I like my students to be able to reach me anytime, so feel free to write down this number as well. You may address me as Castiel, Mr. Novak, or any variation of the word ‘professor’.” Castiel uses actual air quotes, eliciting a laugh from the class. Nearly all the students are writing down the information, while Mr. Famous takes out his phone and snaps a picture of the whiteboard. Dean then leans over to the girl next to him, nudges her with his elbow and whispers, “Scored the teacher’s number on day one, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her and she blushes, giggling to her peers. Castiel, however, is not so amused. He dismisses the class, but stops Dean when he reaches the front of the classroom. “Mr. Winchester. Please stay behind for a moment.” “Ugh, man, please stop calling me that…” Dean groans as he leans on Castiel’s desk. Castiel stands from where he was seated, hoping to loom over the man, but finds that he is in fact shorter than Dean. Regardless, Castiel isn’t going to let a height difference interfere with their dynamic. This is Castiel’s classroom and he expects his students to respect that. “Of course, Mr. Winchester. As soon as you stop referring to me as ‘dude’ or ‘man’.” Dean huffs out a laugh. “Ha! Good one, professor. That better?” “Lose the attitude and we’re golden.” “Dude, I don’t -” “Dean.” Castiel drops his voice slightly to grab Dean’s attention and Castiel is very interested to know what the man is thinking when he sees Dean’s jaw tighten. “You may be famous amongst your peers, but to me you are just another student. While in this classroom, you are here to learn. You will show respect to myself and your peers, or else face the consequences.” “Consequences, huh?” Dean smirks. “What kinda consequences we talkin’ here?” “The kind where you fail my class.” Castiel replies shortly. He’s not taking anymore of this man’s crap. Dean’s face falls slightly and Castiel is glad to have put his foot down. “Man, you’re no fun.” Dean whines as he pushes off the desk. “I’m here to teach, Mr. Winchester. Not to have fun.” “Suit yourself, handsome.” Dean punctuates his sentence with a wink, then turns to leave the classroom. Castiel sighs. This is going to be a long semester, he grimaces.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2023 #fic preview #2023 promo #deancas #destiel

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withasideofshakespeare · 1 month

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In light of recent discoveries, I will be changing the name of this blog to honor the true author of these 37/8 plays we all know and love: Christopher Marlowe.

It has been unequivocally proven as of this week that Marlowe did not in fact meet his judgment in 1593, but rather lived on to continue his career as a great poet and playwright.

Previously, it was believed that his works left unfinished and the body identified as his were solid proof that the plays he wrote under the name of “William Shakespeare” could not have been written by the same hand as the great Tragical History of Doctor Faustus and Hero and Leander.

But as of this week, it has been proven that this evidence has long been misinterpreted. It is true that he left behind unfinished poems and that there was a body identified as his. In fact, it is even true that the body identified that day was his.

Where generations of scholars went awry, however, was in their lack of consideration for the spirit of the man whose body died that day. Using modern technology including EMWA (electromagnetic writing analysis), it was discovered that William Shakespeare did physically write the plays, but it was the spirit of the great Christopher Marlowe who was behind them via the ancient art of human consciousness possession (HCP).

Yes, you heard that right: it has been scientifically proven “Shakespeare’s” posthumously published folio which brought us some of our most beloved plays is simply radiating with electromagnetic particles that suggest the mind behind the text was not Shakespeare’s but Marlowe’s, in possession the former’s body.

I study English rather than paranormal writing analysis, so I can only explain what little I know about the subject, but from what I understand, analysis of an original printing of the first folio produced these results. Modern paranormal expert Sam Winchester says of the discovery: “It reshapes the fields of both English literature and paranormology. Most cases of PoP [Possession of Poets] are fairly low-profile. It’s rare to see a case like this. We studied the folio by analyzing the IPs [inspiration particles] and comparing them against a text authentically written by Marlowe and then one we could expect Shakespeare’s possession by Kit wouldn’t have influenced—his will. The IPs analyzed from over six hundred lines of the folio were similar in shape, color, and potency to those detected from lines of Marlowe’s Faustus, Tamburlaine, Edward II, and Hero and Leander but markedly different from those of Shakespeare’s will. The variations in the hue of the particles between Marlowe’s writings while living and those produced after his death via his possession of William Shakespeare showed that “Shakespeare’s” plays were consistent with the particles we see in other cases of PoP, proving that they were in fact written posthumously by the mind of Marlowe and the hand of Shakespeare.”

Anne Hathaway, actress and immortal wife of the late William Shakespeare said that she was “not surprised” by the new development. “Will sure seemed odd after ‘93—sorry, that’s 1593 for you all. He became suddenly obsessed with writing plays and sonnets. I was pretty excited about the sonnets initially until I realized most of them were written to some twink and not me. I suppose that’s how these things go. I still think Will would be proud of his legacy even if it wasn’t entirely his.”

Winchester recommends that “Shakespeare” scholars worldwide “acknowledge Marlowe as the true author of the plays, sonnets, and poems both out of respect for the mind behind the verse and to avoid being possessed [them]selves.” He says that paranormologists have “no reason to believe that Marlowe isn’t still out there waiting to add a few more plays to his repertoire.” In fact, he and his team are currently analyzing Tom Stoppard’s plays to rule out the possibility of another case of possession by Marlowe.

#shakespeare #christopher marlowe #marlovian authorship theory #sam winchester #paranormology #…#April fools

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italwayshadtobeyou · 9 months

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#spn #spnedit #supernatural #supernaturaledit #jaredpadaleckiedit #demon meg #meg demon #meg!sam #sam winchester #variations on sam winchester #gif warning #mine #season 2

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woundlingus · 4 days

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Colour Grading, Insincerity, and Loki is right and Gabriel is wrong; a Lokiel Meta

It’s the big gun, it’s the mother lode of me ripping apart Unfinished Business frame by frame to feed my shipping and laying out all my thoughts on the matter clearly as can be so maybe I can sway some people sitting on the fence or at least give some context to those who see my posts and go “wtf” because they’re not viewing this through the lens of my insanity. Want to know why these guys haunt me? Here;

Credit where credit is due, the one thing I’ve always really liked about supernatural is how they use colour grading to tell the story, and it’s not really all that secretive that the Gabriel episodes look aesthetically like some of the best episodes because they colour them very specifically to set the tone for them;

Fun

Nonsensical

Insincere

The three big tells that something trickster is afoot in the episode, (and I apologise for the scuffed quality on some of these, I’m skating the tumblr upload rules).

(Tall Tales 2x15)

(Mystery spot 3x11)

(Changing Channels 5x08)

It tells us that whatever is currently happening typically feels very real to those experiencing it, but is actually not at all. This is make believe. It’s a figment of Gabriel’s imagination that he’s whipped up at his own convenience to tell the story he wishes to impart upon the narrative. While this is obvious in the earlier season when they’re still shooting on film and using the dark overlays to create a spooky ambiance, it still follows through to the end for Gabriel until he puts down the trickster label and picks back up the archangel one and officially joins the Winchesters bringing him into the same dark coloured world that we’re used to viewing. There’s a sadness in it, that Gabriel went from all these bright colours to essentially having his spirit snuffed out by Asmodeus, but it gives us a very clear point to reference when things are real and when they’re make believe.

Obviously Gabriel is a liar, we’ve all known that to be true since his very first appearance- but there’s one incident that I talk about often that bothers me deeply but I’ve never really explained why.

The hotel with the rest of the trickster gang.

Gabriel tells this story three times in a pretty short time span- short enough for Dean to remember and call him out on it in the moment, and every time he tells it the story is altered ever so slightly.

I was alone with porn stars in Monte Carlo

I was alone with Loki and Co in Monte Carlo

I was with porn stars AND Loki n Co in Monte Carlo

He’s always been a very unreliable narrator, but this one was particularly on the nose and when it comes to “continuity errors” Gabriel is always aware of them, he does it on purpose because he wants to get caught. We should ask the question, why did it take you three attempts for us to hear this?

He tells his final iteration of the story in grand bright colours, telling feats of his sexual exploits and how good he is at cards, “and then everyone clapped and cheered for me” and then Loki Judas betrays him because Gabriel is so cool and his brothers are so tough and Loki was scared witless and hoping to avoid bloodshed blah blah blah…

Here’s what the real world looks like in comparison to Gabriel’s little fantasy he’s got running here-

This matches the rest of supernatural, this is a realistic portrayal of events through the eyes of Sam and Dean. This is the bitter reality Gabriel is avoiding with his fantastical little displays; he’s a broken little man who is hurt, injured, and scared.

So, Loki tells another variation of this story, yes? Gabriel was the betrayer here, not Loki. Gabriel ran out recklessly and while passing world saving information to the Winchesters, both saving the world AND the vast majority of Loki’s family, he cannot convince Odin to leave and he dies in battle (and like, he would’ve gone to Valhalla can we just unclench a little?). That is why Loki chooses to damn Gabriel to Hell with a very reckless move to attempt to take down an archangel, sell him to a demon, and then cross his fingers and pray his bestie- the 6th most powerful thing in all of creation ever- doesn’t break free from this pitiful demon eventually and come looking for him. But the environment tells another story, look;

It’s the return of the high vibrancy filter, because this room isn’t real, Loki isn’t real, and neither is the story he’s telling. What are the tricksters, if not liars and showboats?

There’s a huge lack in vulnerability which is what they’re both trying to paint over in these scenes to make themselves cool, to make themselves the victim, to make themselves untouchable. Loki tells a half cocked story about the archangel bastard who took his father, completely detached from any real sort of attachment to Gabriel or Odin- even says himself that he hates Odin! And in a story where we know the ending is Gabriel at the hands of Asmodeus he spends ninety nine percent of the story talking about pornstars. They cannot be vulnerable with these outsiders watching them, they also don’t seem to want to admit to themselves what the crux of the issue is here.

They both want to be the ultimate victim of the situation, they’re painting these half done stories trying to convince an audience (Sam and Dean) that doesn’t care that they are right and the other is wrong—

Until they meet each other;

You can lie to everyone, but you can’t lie to yourself.

We’re back, grounded in reality in this moment when they come face to face with each other, the lighting darkens and becomes gritty once more meaning all facades are down and what’s transpiring here between them is without tricks, and there’s an honor in that when it is a battle between two very clever tricksters who could make this endlessly complicated if they wanted to. When they fight, Gabriel is next to silent (listening, or trauma response? You can decide) and Loki does all his talking for Gabriel and Gabriel alone. They have no one to impress here, they sent the Winchesters on a fools errand to have this moment alone creating a tense intimacy where Loki shreds Gabriel’s facades and calls him out for what he truly is and lays out his deep rooted fears and secrets bare, letting us as the outside party they’re unaware of know that what the two of them were here wasn’t some ordinary friendship or half cocked deal out of desperation, but a real and honest bond between two beings terrified, alone, and looking for safety and someone to confide in. They’re each others secret keepers. Long time confidants. Their most trusted. The reason both of them ran to begin with, in a plan that would involve them wrapping themselves so tightly around the other they’d become one in all ways but physical, and promise to keep each other and that secret until death do them part.

It is bloody, and messy, and Loki has no real way of winning this fight because he cannot hurt Gabriel in any way that matters because he’s an archangel and whether he takes damage or not he will live because of the way he was made, only one of them is killable here and only one of them has any intention of killing the other and it’s not Loki. It’s never been Loki. Ever faithful Loki.

They made a vow, and maybe it was childish and unrealistic but that’s what the two of them are by nature are they not? Fickle, childish, and endlessly devoted. To their families, to their lovers, to their fathers, to each other.

Loki should run at this point, if he has any intention of wanting to live. He’s not stupid, he knows Gabriel better than anyone else in the world and Gabriel acknowledges this by how hurt he is emotionally by the way Loki talks about him and the secrets they’ve passed over the thousands of years they’ve known one another. He’s smart enough to know sentiment won’t save him here, it didn’t save his sons, Sleipnir tried that already and it failed spectacularly. Gabriel is here to kill him, and when you take into consideration the wild power imbalance here in this battle what Loki is doing is essentially laying his head down on the chopping block for Gabriel. He’s a smart creature to survive this long, he could be gone if he really wanted to be just like the many times we watched Gabriel disappear.

He doesn’t.

To me, the crux of their story here is abandonment. You left me. Gabriel made the choice to break his vows, and chase after a family he left behind and even though YES it was for a noble reason that is still nothing when it was a personal stab in the back to Loki who also left his family behind to run away with Gabriel and didn’t go for Odin even though the call was put out to Loki to join the gods for the evening.

Loki didn’t go for his family, but Gabriel did.

Loki didn’t go to save his father in an event they were both invited to, Loki had the opportunity to go and save Odin and he chose his bond to Gabriel over saving him. Gabriel discarded his vow and went anyway, and Odin died.

Gabriel betrays Loki, and it’s not that Odin died, it’s that Loki was willing to sacrifice the opportunity to save him and Gabriel couldn’t say the same for his own family. Odin died for nothing, when Loki could’ve been there the whole time to come get him, and he was robbed of that opportunity while Gabriel went behind his back to do exactly that for his family.

Loki was faithful to his own detriment, and Gabriel was not.

Gabriel is punished fairly in Loki’s eyes because this isn’t just about some deadbeat dad (who chained Loki in a cave to torture him). This is a slight of a much more intimate nature. This was a betrayal of the worst kind.

Gabriel is unfaithful.

Everyone knows that Asmodeus is the demon Prince of lust, but in a little more detail that’s not entirely what makes him up. The cardinal sins are the worst because they are what you inflict upon others, an upon your very soul. Lust is something inherent to the condition of just being alive, but the sin is in the act of hurting others and yourself, so the vast majority of what Asmodeus is imagined ruling over is the adulterer, he is most often the one depicted punishing the unfaithful. Loki wasn’t just looking for a way to hurt Gabriel for the sake of inflicting pain, the trickster is never like that. The trickster doesn’t strike just to maim. Loki is sending a very explicit message to Gabriel by giving him to Asmodeus of all people;

“You were unfaithful.”

— Okay, maybe it’s wrong to say that Loki had every right to do what he did because it was definitely still A LOT to do to someone, but it’s far more understandable when the emotional weight of Gabriel’s crime is made clearer. You probably shouldn’t torture anyone ever for any reason— I’m avidly anti-torture— but dick move Gabriel…

And look, yeah they both sleep around and invite porn stars and hookers to the hotel rooms and what not and I certainly will not hang my ‘Gabriel is a bad person here’ hat on the human morality of monogamy because I think it’s shallow and a disservice to the kind of bond the two of them actually have, but there’s an extra added pain in it that Gabriel also turns up for his ex girlfriend in this situation who is willing to betray him for basically a can of pop but not for Loki who will let Odin die to protect Gabriel.

Gabriel comes back, and he offers no apologies because he isn’t capable of learning his lesson, he is selfish by nature (Also the inherent message of the nature of Hell and torture being one that is wholly unnecessary and cruel, punishment never breeds change internal or societal, you can’t change and reform under immense duress it just further traumatises and keeps you locked in the cycle, the system of Hell shouldn’t exist period). Instead, Gabriel comes to kill Loki’s boys so he can watch them struggle and die first before Gabriel delivers the final blow to the man himself. Would you want to live after all of that either, entirely alone without your family or the one who loved and understood you the most- or so you thought?

And could Gabriel live with it either, knowing the punishment didn’t fit the crime but that Loki had a point (see script) and he wasn’t innocent either and it’s cost him everything because now he gets to look at what it was he saved and it’s a brother who seeks him out in the dark just to torment him about his abuse?

And the story ends circular here, devastating me personally even further by twisting the knife.

Gabriel ran away because his family was so horribly broken, and Loki took off with him to escape his torture. Together they made the plan to become one and Gabriel could use Loki’s face and name to hide among the pagans, and his archangel might to take all the hits being thrown Loki’s way and keep him hidden, because no one’s going to fuck with the god who has the freaky new upgrade and just escaped the slammer. Slowly over time what was Gabriel and what was Loki had melded into two very similar personalities, a little different based on their life experiences, but still so the same they were indistinguishable to everyone but each other.

The core difference between them is their life experiences.

Until Gabriel comes back, tail between his knees and asks Loki to please take him back and let him resume playing the ‘Loki’ character, and Loki says sure, and he binds him and and subjects him to torture at the hands of Gabriel’s very own snake in the cave. Mouth stitched shut. “Be me, then,” He says. “Be me in my entirety.”

And Gabriel comes back after this, bitter and angry and he picks up a weapon and he starts knocking Loki’s family down piece by piece, stalking them through the night no matter how far they run, to make sure Loki’s family is as broken as his own before he delivers the final blow to end his life.

Loki’s family as shattered as Gabriel’s, Gabriel as shattered as Loki himself. Fully one in death.

#spn #supernatural #gabriel spn #Loki spn #supernatural s13 #supernatural meta #lokiel #long post #sona’s lore

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impala-dreamer · 8 days

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Help me get my groove back!

Let's make a bingo card of smutty goodness. Send an Ask with your square desire and I'll write it in and then (hopefully) write it!

Prompts like:

Character/Pairing + Kink/Troupe

(Ex: "Negan + Breeding Kink" "Jensen/Reader x only one bed")

Characters and Ships I shall consider at this juncture:

SPN: Dean Winchester (all variations), Castiel (all variations), Ketch, Destiel(×reader)

The Boys: Soldier Boy, Homelander, Butcher.

MCU: Bucky! Steve, Sam Wilson, Stucky×Reader.

Walking Dead Universe: Rick Grimes, Negan, Daryl, Shane

RPF: Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Cockles(×reader), JDM, Sebastian Stan, Chris Evans

And... if it's not above and you know I write it, just ask ;)

Ok? Let's do this!

#bingos #fanfic #halp

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spnexploration · 1 year

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Pack chapter 17

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Madison

Series summary: Omega!Reader is thrown into a world she's not expecting when her mate turns out to be a hunter, and she's not used to Alpha & Omega Pack dynamics.

Chapter summary: Dean calls a family meeting.

Chapter warnings: none

Word count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 16 <- -> Part 18

“-has to be me, obviously, but what about Mads?” I heard Sam saying as I walked down the corridor. I paused where I was, not wanting to interrupt the conversation.

“It’s too dangerous, she’s not going,” Dean replied firmly. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have wanted her there.”

“I don’t, I agree it’s too dangerous. But Y/N is terrified of me currently-”

“She’s not terrified of you.”

“She is, Dean, and that’s ok. I get it. And we've been trying to stay out of your guys’ way, plus Madison feels guilty for suggesting Y/N comes to our room when she was upset-”

“Christ, this has to be the first time in history that I'm not irrationally blaming myself for things outside my control, and everyone else is.” There was a brief pause and then a sound like a hand slapping a thigh and Dean said, “RIGHT, we’re having a family meeting. Get the girls.”

I scampered away from the door, not wanting them to find me listening. My mind was reeling from hearing them, and I felt guilty and embarrassed.

I was luckily around the next corner of the corridor by the time Sam found me, so I could look like I was just walking through. “Dean wants to have a family meeting, can you go to the lounge please?”

“Umm, ok,” I said, trying not to look guilty. I am nonchalant, I told myself. I am unaware what this is about. This is a normal turn of events. I tried to force myself to act like I believed it

Sam turned and left, probably looking for Madison. I headed to the lounge, trying to calm my racing heart and not give myself away.

---

“Alright,” Dean said once we were all seated in the lounge. He looked relaxed, elbows on knees as he leant forward. I sat next to him, not touching, with Sam and Madison in the arm chairs that he'd moved to be opposite. “I think we need to address the elephant in the room.”

I pulled my knees to my chest. I couldn't help but feel that I was the elephant in the room.

“I chose to hunt the Rugaru,” Dean continued. “The Rugaru shot me. I probably ignored some symptoms that my wound was getting worse. My shoulder got infected. The stupid clinic has crap rules. Now, has anyone heard me say the words 'Madison’, 'Sam’ or ‘Y/N’ yet?”

He looked around expectantly until we all muttered variations of “no”. Madison was chewing her nails and even Sam looked a little uncomfortable.

“Right. Y/N went into shock because my shoulder got infected. We were separated because of a dumb clinic’s rules. My scent was wrong because I'm the idiot who got shot. So, tell me, who are we blaming?”

“It's not your fault you got shot!” Madison exclaimed.

“Thank you, Madi. I think I probably screwed up some things and you know, in hindsight, maybe we shouldn't have gone on that hunt. But the whole way along, we were doing the best we could with the information we had. And yeah, shit happened.”

He paused and looked around at us all, then sighed, “I'm not seeing a whole lot of believing me.”

“Sorry, Alpha,” Madison mumbled.

“Ok, Madi, before you were marked, do you remember the time Sam piked early and we stayed up late watching horror movies and you got scared? I remember it was the first time I’d had a girl in my lap who I wasn’t trying to sleep wi-” he suddenly glanced at me and cut himself off. Madi giggled behind her hand. “Anyway, you were so drunk I had to carry you to Sam's bed, and Sam grumped all the next day about having none of the fun and all of the clean up.”

“I remember, it was the worst hangover I’d ever had.”

Dean smirked, “Right. So, you were pretty cuddly with me, did it affect your bond with Sam?”

“No...”

“Right. Because your hormones didn't think Sam was dead.”

I sucked in a sharp breath before I could stop myself. Dean ran his hand down his face. I got the feeling he regretted that choice of words.

He looked back at Madi and said earnestly, “Mads, you did the right thing. You comforted your Pack mate, you did exactly what she needed in that moment. If you'd left her alone her body still might have done the exact thing, only she’d have gone through far more pain and suffering. And who knows, maybe even been worse. None of this is your fault.”

Tears were falling down Madi’s face. Dean opened his arms out wide and she quickly crossed to him, climbing into his lap to hug him. He held her for a moment before she got up, wiping away her tears. “Thank you, Alpha,” she said, heading back to her chair.

Dean turned to me and reached out to cup my face. “I'm going to get to you too because this isn't your fault either, but you're most important so you're going last, ok? I'm going to talk to Sam first, but you hang in there, sweetheart.”

I nodded slightly and he dropped his hand.

He looked to Sam, “Sammy, I think you're trying to organise everything and everyone to cover how uncomfortable you are with this situation and what you perceive to be your role in it. But dude, you did a great job. You saved my life, you got the monster killed, you protected two Omegas, you saved me again, and you saved my Omega. I'm probably shit at making it clear how much I appreciate you and your efforts in this Pack. So, you know, thanks man.”

Sam grinned at him, “That's gotta be the nicest thing you've ever said to me. You concussed or something?”

“Dude, I ain't communicated this much in my fucking life. I am having a fucking apoplexy on the inside.” Sam and Madison both laughed.

Dean turned to me, “Alright, sweetheart. I'll be honest, I don't even know to convince you that this isn't your fault. I feel like I've been trying for days. I was hoping seeing that the others are similarly beating themselves up for no reason might help, but now I dunno...” he trailed off.

“Ok,” he said, clearly trying again, “Did you control the release of your hormones?” He looked at me expectantly until I shook my head. “Did you know what was happening to you?” I shook my head again. “Did you mean for any of this to happen?” I shook my head forcefully. “Right, so how the hell could this be your fault? It's a weird quirk of evolution to cater for scenarios where the mate really does die, and I'm unlucky enough to have accidentally triggered it. I'll be honest, I've died a few times, so it's probably karma or something for that-”

“You've DIED?!”

“Uhhh,” he looked sheepish, “Yeah. Angels were messing with us at one point. Fuck,” he ran his hand down his face, “This isn't the point, I am fucking this up.”

“You're cute when you're flustered,” I said quietly, a small smile on my face. “And you swear a lot more.” I was feeling less guilty, knowing that everyone else had been beating themselves up too even though it wasn't their fault. And Dean had made some good points.

“Has my adorableness convinced you?”

I smirked, “A little.”

“Ok, well, Sam is heading out soon to help out on a hunt-” Dean said, but was cut off by an anxious Madi.

“What? Where? By himself?!”

“He's going to help Claire with a hunt she found,” Dean answered as Sam reached out and took Madison's hand.

“I'm going with him,” Madi declared.

“No, you're not. It's too dangerous.”

“WHAT?! You'll happily let a literal child participate but not a grown ass woman who happens to be an Omega?!”

“Sam is going so that he can protect Claire, because we haven't managed to convince Claire not to go, and I'm not having her out there alone. If you're there too he won't necessarily be able to protect both of you.”

“It's not because you're an Omega, Mads,” Sam said earnestly. “We know you're a good hunter.”

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“So, as I was saying, Sam is heading off. Are we,” he gestured at himself, Madi and I, “going to be ok? Are we all going to stop tiptoeing around each other and feeling guilty all the time?”

Madi was still sulking from Sam leaving, so it probably wasn't the best time to try to ask her. But she still replied, if a little sullenly, “Yes, Alpha.”

He looked expectantly at me. “Yes, Alpha,” I muttered.

“Alright, if that's the best I'm going to get them I guess I'll take it,” Dean jokingly grumbled.

Sam reached out to Madi and she let herself be pulled to him, then he lifted her onto his lap. They started to snuggle and I looked away, trying to give them privacy. Dean stood up and held out his hand to me. I took it and he led me out of the room.

---

The afternoon went fine, although Madi kept somewhat to herself. Dean cajoled her to come watch TV in the evening, sitting me on his lap and her in the recliner next to us. Every so often he reached out and stroked her hair, or squeezed her hand, or rubbed his wrist on her neck.

I felt weird being on his lap for so long and tried to get off, but he stopped me. “Are you not enjoying sitting here, or are you feeling like you should get off?” he whispered into my ear.

“It must be uncomfortable for you,” I whispered back.

He sighed, “Omega, for once, be selfish. You need my scent to feel better. So stay where you are, you are fine. I like having you here.”

I huffed a little but stayed put. He wrapped his arm around my waist and nuzzled my neck until I relaxed back into him.

“Having to spend time with me isn't so bad, is it?” he murmured. I laughed.

We kept watching, until a little while later Madi stood up and declared she was going to bed. “Ok, if you want to go get ready we’ll be there in a minute to all get settled,” Dean answered, reaching to turn off the TV.

“Umm, Alpha,” Madi mumbled, looking suddenly very unsure of herself, “I didn't think I would be sleeping with you.”

Dean frowned, “Madi, you hate sleeping alone.”

She glanced nervously at me, then looked down. “I can stay in my normal room.”

Dean tapped my side lightly, “Can you stand up for me, sweetheart?” I did so, and he stood up behind me, reaching out for Madison.

“Madi,” he said gently but firmly, hands on her shoulders, “we talked about this. It's not your fault, and you're not in the way. Now just come with us to bed already.” He dropped his hands, sounding a little exasperated.

“It's ok, Madi,” I said tentatively. “You looked after me when Dean was gone. We can do the same for you.”

Madi gave me a tight smile, “Ok. Thanks.” I reached out and squeezed her hand.

We headed down the corridor, Madi splitting off to get ready in her own room, then heading to ours. I felt awkward, now that we came to actually go to bed all together. I crossed my arms in front of myself and hung back. Madi, who was normally incredibly confident and directing play, seemed to also be hanging back.

Dean looked between the two of us and sighed. “Anyone would think you two were about to broker a peace deal with North Korea, not sleep in a bed you've both been in multiple times before,” he half-muttered, a smirk on his face.

He lay in the centre of the bed and beckoned me over to one side and Madi to the other. I climbed into bed and he manoeuvred me up on to his chest, tucking my head in to the crook of his neck where I could scent him. “There you go, sweetheart,” he murmured.

He got Madison to lay next to him on the other side, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she lay against him. I reached out and touched her hand. She took my hand and held it, which felt nice.

“Everyone ok?” Dean asked.

“Yes, Alpha. Thank you,” Madi replied, sounding more like herself.

Dean gently poked me until I answered. “Yes, Dean. It's all good now.”

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#alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #dean winchester x reader #a/b/o #protective!dean winchester #protective!sam winchester #alpha!sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #spn a/b/o #dean winchester hurt/comfort #sam winchester hurt/comfort

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layce2015 · 8 months

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Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

The Monster At The End of This Book

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

The boys and I, now wearing FBI costumes, enter a bookstore and walk over to the counter to see a heavy-set man stocking his shelves. "Uh...can I help you?" The man asked us as we pull out our badges. "Sure hope so. Agents DeYoung, Shaw and Gowan. Just need to ask you a few questions." Dean said.

"Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?" Sam asked him. "Like what?" The man asked us. "Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights." I said and the man still looks at us like we are crazy. "Uh, I don't think so. Why?" The man asked.

"What about noises? Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?" Sam asked him. "And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?" The man asked, skeptical. "What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?" I asked and then the man starts to grin.

"I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?" He asked and the boys and I exchange looks. "Excuse me?" Dean asked. "You're fans." He said and I furrow my brow in confusion. "Fans of what?" I asked. "What is LARPing?" Dean asked. "Like you don't know." The man laughs but he notices our confused looks.

"Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too." The man said as he looks over our looks. "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about." Dean said. "You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books. What are they called?" The man said as he thinks then snaps his fingers. "Uh...Supernatural. Two guys and a woman, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh...Steve, Dirk and (a variation of y/n)? Uh, Sal, Dane and (different variation of y/n)?" The man said and the boys and I exchange a look before Sam turns to him.

"Sam, Dean and (y/n)?" He said and the man snaps his fingers and points at him. "That's it!" He said. "You're saying this is a book?" I asked him. "Books. It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." The man said and he goes over to a table labeled Bargain Bin, the boys and I follow him.

"Let's see. Um...Ah. Yeah..." he said and he hands Dean a book. "That's the first one, I think." He said and I come up next to Dean and sees the book cover. It had two men, who were both very muscular, standing in front of an haunted looking house. One of the men had long dark blonde hair that was blowing in the wind, he had his shirt off, showing off his six-pack, and holding a shotgun with jeans on. The other man was standing on the right of the man and he had short brown hair and was wearing a tank top and jeans

Then over on the left side of blonde man was a woman with long brown hair, also looking like it was blowing in the wind, and she was sitting on the hood of the Impala. She was wearing short shorts and a black tank top that seemed a bit too tight on her, her boobs were almost protruding out of the top, and she had this sexy, sultry look on her face while her right leg was pulled up to her.

"Supernatural by Carver Edlund." Dean reads then he flips the book over, which had the front end of a motorcycle appearing out of the corner of the book, and reads the back cover. "Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths." He reads then Sam grabs the book. "Give me that." Sam said as he looks over the book then turns to the man. "We're gonna need all the copies of Supernatural you've got." He said.

Later, we were in a motel room and Dean is reclining on the bed, flipping through a book and frowning. I was sitting on the other side of the bed, reading another book. Sam was seated by the window with his laptop. "This is freakin' insane. How's this guy know all this stuff?" I asked. "You got me." Sam said.

"Everything is in here. I mean everything. From the racist truck to – to me and (y/n) having sex. We're full-frontal in here, dude." Dean said as he gets up and crosses over to Sam and I get up and stand next to him. "How come we haven't heard of them before?" Dean asked. "They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one–No Rest For The Wicked–" he said then he turns the laptop towards us, displaying a web site listing the books. "Ends with you going to hell." He said.

"I reiterate. Freaking insane." I said as Dean browses the site and I go and grab my laptop and pull up more information on the books. "Check it out. There’s actually fans. There’s not many of them, but still. Did you read this?" Dean asked Sam. "Yeah." Sam said as I read some more on the site. "Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this – Simpatico says the demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic." I said, reading from my laptop, and Dean scoffs. "Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it." He grumbles.

"Yeah. Well, keep on reading. It gets better." Sam said and we read some more. "There are Sam girls and Dean girls...oh and even (y/n) girls and – what's a slash fan?" Dean asked and Sam sighs. "As in...Dean-slash-(y/n)...Sam-slash-(y/n)..." Sam said. "Like, as in a couple?" Dean asked and Sam nods.

"Uh...there's also Sam-slash-(y/n)-slash-Dean and sometimes I'm written out, rude, and there will be Sam-slash-Dean...together." I said and Dean looks at me, confused. "Like, together together?" He asked and I nod and his face turns into disgust.

"They do know we're brothers, right?" Dean asked as he gestures between him and Sam and I shrug. "Doesn't seem to matter." I said. "Oh, come on. That...That's just sick." Dean said, disgusted, and he shuts the laptop. "We got to find this Carver Edlund." Dean said. "Yeah, that might not be so easy." Sam said.

"Why not?" I asked him. "No tax records, no known address. Looks like Carver Edlund is a pen name." Sam replied. "Somebody’s gotta know who he is." Dean said and Sam thinks for a moment.

"So you published the Supernatural books?" Sam asked the young lady, who was the publisher of the books. Sam figured she might at least know who Carver Edlund really is. "Yep. Yeah. Gosh. These books...You know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know – Doctor Sexy, M.D.?" She said then scoffs. "Please."

"Right. Well, we're hoping that our article can...shine a light on an underappreciated series." I said. "Yeah, yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press then m-maybe we could start publishing again." She said then Dean looks a bit panicked. "No, no, no, no. God, no. I mean, why – why would you want to do that? You know, it's, uh, such a complete series, what with Dean going to hell and all." Dean said and I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, my God! That was one of my favorite ones, because Dean was so...strong...and sad and brave. Oh, and finally having a badass female character. (Y/n) is the type of character women should look up to. I mean, her standing up to Dean in Bloodlust, when she told Dean how replacing his Dad with Gordon was an insult to his father's memory and then challenged him to let his anger out on her. Or how she helps the boys out of sticky situations. God, what a badass!" She said and I couldn't help but smile at this.

"And that last moment Dean and (y/n) had together...proclaiming their undying love to each other..." she said, getting emotional, as she places a hand on her chest. "Romantic. And that slow burn between those two...it was like c'mon, you idiots! It's right there, you two are obviously in to each other! Get together! Kiss! Do something! I mean, I loved it but I also hated it, especially since they got together sometime before Dean goes to hell. They didn't get enough time together!" She goes on while Dean and I exchange a look and I see Sam smirking.

"And Sam...I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. You know, like in–In Heart, when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in Home, when Dean had to call John and ask him for help." She turns away at this then let's out a sigh. "Gosh...if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings."

"Real men?" Dean said, a bit offended. "I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?" the publisher asked. "Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside." Dean said and I elbow his side. "Is that supposed to be funny?" She asked, incredulous. "Lady, this whole thing is funny." Dean said and I elbow his side again.

He stops and the woman looks between us. "How do I know you three are legit, hmm?" she asked. "Oh, trust me. We, uh...we're legit." I said, trying to assure her. "Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys and my girl." She said and the boys and I shake our heads.

"No! No, no, no. Never."

"No, that's..."

"We – We are actually, um...big fans." I said and she eyes us. "Hmm. You've read the books?" She asked. "Cover to cover." Dean said as Sam and I nod. "What's the year and model of the car?" She asked. "It’s a 1967 Chevy Impala." Dean replied.

"What's May 2nd?" She asked. "That's my–Uh...that's Sam's birthday." Sam replied. "January 24th is Dean's." Dean added. "And June 16th is (y/n)'s." I said and the woman nods. "Sam's score on the LSAT?" She asked. "One..." Sam said then looks at us, almost at a loss. "...Seventy-four?" He said, questioning, and she nods.

"Dean's favorite song?" she asked. "It's a tie. Between Zep's Ramble On and Traveling Riverside Blues." Dean replied.

"How old was (y/n) when her father taught her how to drive a motorcycle?" She asked. "Thirteen." I replied. "What is Dean's and (y/n)'s song?" She asked and Dean and I exchanged a look before I clear my throat and said. "Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon." And it seemed she was happy with our answers.

"Okay. Okay. What do you want to know?" She asked us. "What’s Carver Edlund's real name?" Sam asked her. "Oh, no. I – No. Sorry, I can’t do that." She said, quickly. "We just want to talk to him. You know, get the Supernatural story in his own words." I said. "He’s very private. It’s like Salinger." She said. "Please. Like I said – we are, um..." Sam. Said then he unbuttons his shirt, cringing a little, to reveal his demon-protection tattoo. "...big...big fans." He said then he looks over at me and Dean.

I sigh and pull down the collar of my shirt to show my tattoo just as Dean, who rolled his eyes, displays his own tattoo. The woman licks her lips, which made me feel a bit uncomfortable. "Awesome. You know what?" she said then she turns around and hikes up her skirt, showing us her tattoo. "I got one, too."

"Whoa. You are a fan." Dean said then he turns to me. "You should've gotten yours there too." He teases me, quietly, and I slap his chest as the woman turns back to us. "Okay." She said and she scribbles something on a pad of paper. "His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off." She informs us as I take the paper.

Later, the boys and I approach a ramshackle house with trepidation. We get out of the Impala and I stare at the house and started to wonder if I really wanted to learn the secrets that lay beyond that door. We make it to the front door, share a look then Dean pushes the doorbell.

Then a disheveled man, wearing only a shirt, shorts and a bathrobe, answers the door. "You Chuck Shurley?" Dean asked him. "The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?" Sam asked him. "Maybe. Why?" Chuck asked us. "I'm Dean. This is Sam and (y/n). The Dean, Sam and (y/n) you've been writing about." Dean said and Chuck closes the door.

Dean rings the bell again and Chuck opens the door. "Look, uh...I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life." He said and he tries to shut the door, but I put out a hand to stop it. "See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books." I said as I shove the door open and enter, forcing Chuck to back up into the house.

"Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny." Chuck stammers. "Damn straight, it's not funny." Dean said. "Look, we just want to know how you're doing it." Sam said. "I'm not doing anything." Chuck said.

"Are you a hunter?" I asked Chuck. "What? No. I'm a writer." Chuck exclaimed. "Then how do you know so much about demons?" Dean asked as he advances on Chuck, who falls onto the couch. "And Tulpas, and changelings?" He asked. "Is this some kind of Misery thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a Misery thing!" Chuck shouts, panicked. "No, it's not a Misery thing. Believe me, we are not fans!" I said.

"Well, then, what do you want?!" Chuck asked. "I'm Sam. And that's Dean and (y/n)." Sam said. "Sam, Dean and (y/n) are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!" Chuck shouts at us.

Minutes later, we take Chuck out to the Impala and Dean opens the trunk, displaying the arsenal. "Are those real guns?" Chuck asked, shocked. "Yup. This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs." I said. "Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans." Chuck said and I let out an annoyed sigh while Chuck looks around at us, nervous. "That’s, that’s awesome. So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house." he said.

"Chuck, stop." Dean said, annoyed, as he reaches out to Chuck. "Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me." Chuck said, panicked, as he moves away from Dean. "How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?" Sam asked and Chuck looks at him, startled.

"Wait a minute. How do you know about that?" He asked us. "The question is how do you." I said, questioning. "Because I wrote it?" He replied, shrugging. "You kept writing?" Sam asked. "Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did that – Did Phil put you up to this?" Chuck asked and I sighed.

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm (y/n) (l/n) and this is Dean Winchester, and his brother, Sam." I said and Chuck was shocked once again. "The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down." He said and it seemed like he was about to pass out.

Back inside his house, Chuck pours himself a large whisky and gulps it down, then sets the glass on the kitchen sink. He turns around, sees us, and groans. "Oh! Oh, you're still there." he said. "Yup." Dean said. "You're not a hallucination." Chuck said. "Nope." I said, shaking my head.

"Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously I'm a god." Chuck said. "You're not a god." Sam said. "How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through – The physical beatings alone." Chuck said, upset. "Yeah, we're still in one piece." Dean said.

"I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica." Chuck said to the boys then he turns to me. "And I burned your mother alive. And then gave your dad cancer." He said. "Chuck..." I said, a bit sympathetically, but he continues on.

"All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for...entertainment." Chuck exclaimed. "You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us." Dean said and Chuck looks up at us.

"Did you really have to live through the bugs?" He asked. "Yeah." Dean said. "What about the ghost ship?" Chuck asked. "Yes, that too." I said. "I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing...if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass." Chuck said. "Chuck, you're not a god!" Dean yells.

"We think you're probably just psychic." I said to her. "No. If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard." Chuck said. "It seems that somehow, you're just...focused on our lives." Sam said. "Yeah, like laser-focused. Are you working on anything right now?" Dean asked and Chuck has a look of realization on his face.

"Holy crap." He mutters. "What?" I asked and he goes to pick up some pages. "The, uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird." He said. "Weird how?" Sam asked. "It's very Vonnegut." He said. "Slaughterhouse-Five Vonnegut or Cat's Cradle Vonnegut?" Dean asked, intently, and Sam and I look over at him, confused.

"What?" we asked.

"What?" Dean said, defensively.

"It's, uh, Kilgore Trout Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house...confronted by my characters." Chuck said and we exchange looks.

Later, we were at a laundromat ans Sam and I were doing laundry as Dean sits nearby, reading Chuck's latest manuscript. "I’m sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself. My head hurts." Dean said, pained. "There's got to be something this guy's not telling us." Sam said as he turns to toss his darks into the machine.

"Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.” Dean said and Sam turns to Dean. "Stop it." He said. "'Stop it,' Sam said." Dean reads then he looks up at Sam. "Guess what you do next." He said and Sam turns away, scowling.

"Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive." He reads and looks up at Sam. "I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders." Dean said and pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head. Great, now my head hurts! I thought.

"(y/n) felt like her head was gonna explode, like the pressure of it all was coming down on her." Dean reads and I raise my head and glared at him. "Dean, please..." I said, exasperated. "'Dean, please...' she pleaded." Dean reads and Sam sighs, exasperated. Dean looks over the manuscript again. "You just thought I was a dick." He said and I choke back a laugh while Sam turns around, looking impressed. "The guy's good." he said and Dean gives an unimpressed look to him.

The next day, the boys and I arrive back at Chuck's house as he called us and said he had something to tell us. He paces nervously, as if building up the courage to speak. He holds more pages in his hands.

"So...You wrote another chapter?" Sam asked and Chuck nods. "This was all so much easier before you were real." Chuck said. "We can take it; just spit it out." Dean said. "You especially are not gonna like this." Chuck said to him. "I didn't like hell." Dean remarks and Chuck sighs

"It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam." Chuck said and I furrow my brow. "Coming to kill him?" I asked. "When?" Sam asked at the same time. "Tonight." Chuck replied. "She's just gonna show up? Here?" Dean asked and Chuck sits down at his desk and puts his glasses on.

"Uh...let’s see, uh...Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion." He reads and Sam laughs and I try to bite back the smile. "You're kidding me, right?" Sam asked and Dean turns to him. "You think this is funny?" Dean asked him and I turn to Dean. "You don't? I mean, come on. Fiery demonic passion?" I said, a bit of a laugh in my voice.

"It's just a first draft." Chuck adds. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a little girl." Dean said and Chuck shakes his head. "No, uh, this time she's a comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana." He said, reading from his manuscript. "Great. Perfect." Dean grumbles.

"So what happens after the...fiery demonic passion?" I asked Chuck. "I don't know, it hasn't come to me yet." Chuck said and Dean growls under his breath. "Dean, look, there's nothing to worry about. Lilith and me? In bed?" Sam said, as if the whole thing was ridiculous, but Dean glares at Sam and I turn to Chuck.

"How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?" I asked him. "You mean my process?" Chuck asked. "Yes, your process." I said and Chuck sighs. "Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so...I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream." He said.

"The first time you dreamt about us?" Dean asked as he turns to Chuck. "It flowed. It just, it kept flowing. It still does. I-I can't stop it, really." Chuck replied. "You can't seriously believe –" Sam said to Dean, who turns to him. "Humor me." He said and he stands up while Chuck holds up the manuscript for him. "Look, why don't we, we just..." Dean said as he takes the manuscript.

"Take a look at these and see what's what." he said and he looks to Chuck. "You –" he started to say then Chuck finished his sentence. "...knew you were gonna ask for that. Yeah." he said.

Later, Dean was driving and Sam sits beside him reading the latest chapter while I was in the backseat. "Dean, come on." Sam said, exasperated, and he begins to read. "The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean and (y/n) were still seeing stars. Both of them scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aids on their faces." He reads.

"So?" Dean said, shrugging. "So, I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you'd put on a pink flower Band-Aid." Sam said. "And I haven't put on a Band-Aid like that since I was like five." I said.

"What's your point?" Dean asked. "My point is this – all of this – is totally implausible, it's nuts." Sam said. "He's been right about everything so far. You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?" Dean asked and Sam scoffs before he continues. "Huh. Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala, (y/n) sitting next to him, and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow." Sam reads.

"A tarp?" I asked, confused. "Yeah. On the rear window. And Dean drives it like that." Sam said. "Well, he might be wrong about the details, but doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result." Dean said.

"So we’re just gonna run?" Sam asked. "Dude, we are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith." said Dean but at that moment we come upon a roadblock and Dean stops and an officer leans over the window.

"What seems to be the problem?" Dean asked. "Bridge is out ahead." the officer said. "We're just trying to get out of town." said Dean. "Yeah, afraid not." said the officer. "Is there a detour?" Dean asked him. "Nope." The officer replied.

"There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?" Dean asked. "To get to the highway, you have to cross that river. To cross the river, you have to take that bridge." The officer replied. "How deep's the river?" Dean asked, sounding a bit desperate. "Sorry. Afraid you three are gonna have to spend the night in town." The officer said and Dean lowers his head while Sam looks over his shoulder at me and I shrug.

We stopped at a dinner to get something to eat, while I was now reading the manuscript as Sam looks over a menu, Dean was just sitting next to me. "Hey, this could be a good thing. I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path." I said, optimistically, and Dean gave me the what the hell are you talking aboutlook.

"How do you mean?" Sam asked. "It's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say that we go left –" I said and Sam's eyes light up with understanding. "Then we go right." he said and I nod. "Exactly." I said. "So, we get off-book. We never make it to the end. It's opposite day. It says that we, uh, we get into a fight. So, no fighting. No research for you..." Dean said. "No bacon cheeseburger for you." I remarked and he looked a little put out with that.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll just order something else." Dean said just as the waitress approaches. "Hi, uh, what's good?" Dean asked her. "Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country." She said and Sam and I laugh at this. "Really?" Dean asked, disbelieving.

"I'll just have the cobb salad, please." Sam said. "And I'll have a chicken sandwich." I said. "I'll have the...veggie tofu burger. Thanks." Dean said and she takes their menus and leaves.

"This whole thing's ridiculous." Sam grumbles. "Lilith is ridiculous?" Dean asked. "The idea of me hooking up with her is." Sam said. "Right. 'Cause something like that can never happen." I remarked and Sam starts to scowl, then controls himself. "Guys, for the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close." He said.

"So?" Dean and I said. "So...we've got the jump on her. If we know when she's coming, we know where she's – this is an opportunity." He replied. "Are you –" Dean said and I could just feel the anger radiating off of him. "It frustrates me when you say such reckless things." He growls. "Well, it frustrates me when you'd rather hide that fight." Sam said and I sigh, angrily, at this. "And It frustrates me when both of you get like this." I grumble as the Waitress comes back.

"Cobb salad for you. Chicken Sandwich for you." She said as he places Sam's plate in front of him then mine. "And the tofu veggie burger for you." She said to Dean as she places his plate down. "Thank you." Dean said and she leaves and Dean leans in close to Sam.

"It's not hiding. It's being smart. It's picking your battles. This is a battle that we are not ready to fight." he said and he takes a huge bite of his burger and his eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, my God. This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!" he said and I look and noticed the burger.

"Um, honey, that's not..." I started to say but then the waitress comes back, flustered. "I am so sorry. I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake." She said as she takes his plate away and walks off.

That night, Dean drives us up to a very sleazy-looking motel and pulls into the parking lot. "Dude, this place charges by the hour." Sam remarks as we get out of the car and look around at our surroundings. "Yeah, well, the book says Lilith finds you at the Red Motel. Hence, the uh, hooker inn. It's opposite day, remember?" Dean said and we head inside.

Once inside, Dean drops a bag on the bed and starts pulling out items. He takes a few small string-tied bags and places them around the room. "What are you doing?" I asked him. "Couple of hex bags ought to Lilith-proof the room." He replied.

"So, what? I'm supposed to just hole up here all night?" Sam asked, annoyed. "That's exactly what you're gonna do, okay? And no research. I don't care what you do – use the Magic Fingers or watch Casa Erotica on Pay-Per-View." Dean said and he reaches into Sam’s bag and pulls out Sam’s laptop, smiling.

"Oh, dude, come on." Sam whines. "Just call it a little insurance." Dean said as he hands me the laptop and I put it in my bag, that I had over my shoulder. "What are you two gonna do?" Sam asked. "Well, the pages say that we spend all day riding around in the Impala. So I'm gonna go park her. Behave yourself, would you? No homework. Watch some porn." Dean said as he smiles, gestures for me to follow him and we leave.

"I sure hope this works." I said as we drive away from the motel. "It will. We just gotta do everything in our power to make sure Sam and Lilith don't get together." He said as he parks the Impala and we get out. We check the doors, then walk away across the street.

Moments later, we look back to see two teenagers attempting to break into the car. We run towards them. "Hey!" We shout but then I hear a noise beside me. I turn to see a van coming at us and I let out a scream as Dean grabs me and turns me around, so that he'd be my shield, and we get hit by the van, knocked us out.

"Oh my God. Just take it easy, you two are gonna be okay." I hear a female voice say as I start to come to. I open my eyes to see a woman hovering over me and she was wearing long dangling earrings, shaped like stars.

"Stars." I said, incoherently. "What was that?" She asked as I blink and look over to see Dean on my left and he had pink flowery Band-Aids on his face. "I'm so sorry. I just didn't see you two. Are you okay?" The woman asked as I raise my hands up to my face then I hear Dean starting to wake up.

"And sorry about...you know." the woman said as I sit up then see the woman indicating a young girl standing nearby. "M-My daughter's going through a doctor phase." she said and Dean starts to sit up.

"What are you talking about?" Dean groaned and I raise my hand to my face and felt Band-Aids on my face. "You're all better now." the girl said while Dean looks across the street and stares in horror. "Oh, no..." he mutters as he gets up and I look over and see that the back window of the Impala was shattered.

I sigh then turn to the girl. "Thanks, Doc. We feel all better now." I said and the girl smiles as I get up and go over to Dean while he catches a glimpse of himself in the side window and sees the Band-Aids. Frowning, he slowly peels one off.

I go over to the passenger side and look at the mirror to see my face covered in Band-Aids and began to peel them off.

We put a tarp over the rear window and then Dean, still pissed, starts to drive down the road while I sat in that passenger seat. "For what it's worth, Dean...I wanted to say thank you for at least trying to save me." I said and I don't hear him say anything but just a small grunt, which told me he was too angry to even talk.

Later, we made it into Chuck's house and waited for him since he was nowhere inside. Finally, he walks in, carrying a bottle in a brown bag and six-pack of cans. He walks in slowly and does not appear very surprised to find me and Dean sitting in his living room.

"Dean. (Y/n)." He said. "I take it you knew we'd be here." I said as Chuck looks us over. "You two look terrible." He points out. "That's 'cause we just got hit by a minivan, Chuck." Dean growls. "Oh." Chuck replied, taken aback.

"That it? Every damn thing you write about me comes true; that’s all you have to say is oh?!" Dean yells as he walks up to Chuck. "Please don't yell at me." Chuck said, cowering.

"Why do I get feeling there's something that you're not telling us?" Dean yells, angrily. "What wouldn’t I be telling you?" Chuck said asked. "Chuck, please...tell us how you know what you know." I said, trying to be the calm one. "I don't know how I know, I just do!" Chuck said, panicked.

"That's not good enough." Dean growls and he shoves Chuck against the wall. "DEAN!" I yelled as I go up to Dean's side. "How the hell are you doing this?!" He yells at Chuck.

"Dean, let him go!" A voice demanded and we all turn to see Castiel standing behind us. "This man is to be protected." Castiel said. "Why?" Dean asked him. "He's a Prophet of the Lord." Castiel replied.

"You...You're Castiel...aren't you?" Chuck asked, shocked, as he sees Castiel. "It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I...admire your work." Castiel said as he picks up one of the books and starts paging through it. "Whoa, whoa, what? This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's – he's...he's practically a Penthouse Forum writer." Dean said and I turn to Chuck.

"Did you know about this?" I asked him as he stumps over to his armchair; he cracks open a fresh bottle of whisky and pours himself some. "I, uh, I might have dreamt about it." He said and my eyes widen and jaw drops as Dean turns to him. "And you didn't tell us?!" He yells. "It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night-level douchiness." Chuck replied as he finishes this tirade and desperately gulps down the whisky.

Then Dean turns to Castiel. "This is the guy who decides our fate?" He asked, quietly. "He isn't deciding anything. He's a mouthpiece – a conduit for the inspired word." Castiel replied. "The word? The word of God? What, like the new new testament?" I asked him. "One day, these books – they'll be known as the Winchester and (l/n) gospel." Castiel said.

"You got to be kidding me." Dean, Chuck and I said, in unison. "I am not...kidding you." Castiel said and I sigh. "If you'd both please excuse me one minute." Chuck said as he stands, still clutching the bottle, and disappears upstairs.

"Him? Really?" Dean asked Castiel. "You should've seen Luke." Castiel said. "Why'd he get tapped?" I asked him, gesturing towards the stairs Chuck went up to. "I don't know how prophets are chosen. The order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command." Castiel replied.

"How high?" Dean asked. "Very." Castiel said. "Well, whatever. How do we get around this?" Dean asked. "Around what?" Castiel asked, confused. "The Sam-Lilith love connection. How do we stop it from happening?" I asked him. "What the prophet has written can't be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass." Castiel said and Dean and I exchange worried and fearful looks.

Dean drives us to the motel, parks, and we get out of the car. Then we head inside. "Come on. We're getting out of here." Dean said to Sam as we enter and I shut the door. "What? Where?" Sam asked. "Anywhere, okay? Out of this motel, out of this town. I don't care if we got to swim, we are getting out." Dean said while I look around, confused.

"Sam, where are all the hex bags?" I asked him. "I burned them." Sam replied and Dean and I turn to him, sharply. "You what?" we asked him. "Look, if Lilith is coming, which is a big if –" Sam started to say but Dean shakes his head. "No, no, no. It's more than an if. Chuck is not a psychic. He's a prophet." Dean said.

"What?" Sam asked, shocked. "Castiel showed up, and apparently Chuck is writing the gospel of us." I replied and Sam thinks then nods a bit. "Okay." He said. "Okay. Let's get the hell out of here." Dean said as he grabs our bags. "No." Sam said, firmly.

"Lilith is gonna slaughter you." Dean said to him. "Maybe she will, maybe she won't." Sam replied, shrugging. "So what? You think you can take her?" I asked him. "Only one way to find out, guys, and I say bring her on." Sam said.

"Sam..." Dean and I said, worried. "You two think I'll do it, don't you? Both of you think I'll go dark side." Sam accused. "Yes! Okay? Yes. The way you've been acting lately? The things you've been doing?" Dean yells and Sam looks up, startled. "Sam, the way you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly, it was pretty frightening." I said, giving him a worried look, and Sam looks over at Dean, fearfully.

"Oh, I already knew. Her and Cas told me." Dean said and Sam's eyes narrow. "What else did Cas tell you?" Sam asked him. "Nothing I don't already know. That you've been using your psychic crap, and you've been getting stronger. We just don't know why, and we don't know how." Dean said. "It's not what you think." Sam said.

"Then what is it, Sam? 'Cause we're at a total loss." I asked him as Dean grabs his bag and heads for the door, I go and grab mine and follow him. Dean stops and looks back. "Are you coming or not?" he asked. "No." Sam said and Dean and I turn back to the door, pause, then drop our bags forcefully on a chair by the door before Dean leaves. I sigh then follow him out.

Dean heads to a soda machine and drops coins into it, and I could tell he was fuming. I frown and walk up to him. "Hey..." I said to him, softly, and I placed my left arm around his shoulder. "How can he be so stupid?!" He asked me, angrily. "I don't know, Dean. I wish I knew myself." I said.

“I mean really! How can he hear a Prophet giving him his fortune and decide to let it happen?!” Dean asked, steam practically coming out of his ears as he continues getting more and more enraged.

I open my mouth to try and say something but Dean continues ranting. “Why did we fight so hard to prevent every vision you two had from coming true? Why are we trying to stop these seals being broken? Why do we even TRY!” Dean shouted, pulling away me to punch the soda machine and cracking the glass.

“Dean please, calm down.” I pleaded. “Why?! I have every damn right to be upset!” Dean growled. “I know you do and I’m upset too. Right now, I want nothing more than to go back into that room and give Sam a piece of my mind. But clearly arguing isn’t gonna do anything and neither will breaking your hand.” I said.

Dean let’s out an irritated huff and turns away. “And to be honest, you’re starting to scare me a little.” I admitted. Dean turns back to look at me, his harden expression had finally softening. “I’m sorry it's just…” He tried to say, he sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t wanna lose him. I can’t…I can’t lose either of you.” He said, tearfully, voice breaking.

My heart broke at the sound of his voice and I step over to him, taking his hand to hold it. Dean looks down at our hands and squeeze mine, while I rub little circles on the back of his palm. “I know. I can’t either. We’ll find a way to stop this.” I said.

Dean continued staring down at our hands for a moment. “How?” He asked, raising his head to look at me. “I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out. We always do.” I said, giving him a little reassuring smile. Dean eyes moved away from mine, looking thoughtful. “…I might have an idea.” He muttered, returning his gaze onto me.

He leans in and gives me kiss. When he pulls away, he rested his forehead against mine. “Thank you.” He whispered. I smile, giving his hand a little squeeze. “Anytime.” I said.

He sighs and closes his eyes before he speaks. "Well, I feel stupid doing this. But...I am fresh out of options. So please. I need some help. I'm praying, okay? Come on. Please." he begs and I run my thumb over the back of his hand again.

"Prayer is a sign of faith. This is a good thing, Dean." Castiel's voice said and we pull back from each other and see Castiel standing next to us. "So does that mean you'll help us?" I asked him. "I'm not sure what I can do." he said. "Drag Sam out of here, now. Before Lilith shows up." Dean said, firmly. "It's a prophecy. I can't interfere." Castiel said and I could see the anger growing on Dean's face again as he walks up to Castiel.

"You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything. Not a damn thing. But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please." he begs. "What you're asking, it's...not within my power to do." Castiel said, plainly. "Why? 'Cause it's divine prophecy?" Dean asked him. "Yes." Castiel replied and I run a hand over my face.

"So, what – We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?" I asked Castiel, who gives me a look of sympathy. "I'm sorry." He said. "Screw you. You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help us now, then when the time comes and you need me...don't bother knocking." Dean growls and he grabs my hand and we brush past Castiel and begin to walk away.

"Dean. (Y/n)." Castiel called out. "What?!" Dean yelled as we stop and turn to him. "You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected." Castiel said. "I get that." Dean said. "If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon." Castiel informs and my eyes widen, getting at what he's doing.

"And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?" I asked him. "Yes." He replied and Dean and I share a look. "So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon –" Dean said, thinking, as he looks back at Castiel. "Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand...why I can't help." Castiel said and I smile at him. "Thanks, Cas." Dean said and Castiel nods. "Good luck." He said and Dean and I head to the Impala and make our way to Chuck's house.

We enter Chuck's place, seeing him sprawled out on his couch, and approach him. This time he actually does seem surprised to see us. "What are you two doing here? I didn't write this." Chuck said as Dean begins to manhandle him. "Come on. We need you to come with us." Dean said. "What? Where?" Chuck asked. "To the motel where Sam is." I replied.

"That's where Lilith is." Chuck said, fearfully. "Yeah, exactly. We need you to stop her." Dean said. "Are you insane? Lilith? I know what she's capable of, guys. I wrote her." Chuck said and I roll my eyes. "All right, listen to me. You have an archangel tethered to you, okay? All you got to do is show up and boom! Lilith gets smoked." I said and Chuck looks between us.

"But I-I haven't seen that yet. Th-the story –" he stammers. "Chuck, you're the only shot that we've got left." Dean said. "But...I'm just a writer." Chuck said, upset. "This isn't a story anymore, man. This is real! And you're in it!" I yelled at him. "Now, we need you to get off your ass and fight. Come on, Chuck." Dean tells him but Chuck shakes his head. "No friggin' way." He said.

"Okay, well, then, how about this – I've got a gun in my pocket, and if you don't come with us, I'll blow your brains out." Dean threatens. "I thought you said I was protected by an archangel." Chuck said, questioning. "Well, interesting exercise. Let's see who the quicker draw is." Dean said and Chuck looks between us and, eventually, he decides to come with us.

We make it to the motel and go to our room door and the three of us burst in. "I am the prophet Chuck!" Chuck shouts as we see Sam and Lilith standing there. She looks over at us, a bit unimpressed.

"You've got to be joking." She said and she leaves Sam and approaches Chuck. "Oh, this is no joke." Dean said just as the room begins to tremble, and a great white light pours in through the windows. "You see, Chuck here's got an archangel on his shoulder. You've got about 10 seconds before this room is full of wrath and you're a piece of charcoal. You sure you want to tangle with that?" Dean asked her.

Lilith gives Sam one last look then she leaves through her vessel's mouth and the light and the shaking of the building stopped.

After taking Chuck home and helping the woman Lilith possessed, the boys and I drive out of town. The rear window still busted and still clumsily covered in a tarp flapping in the wind.

"So a deal, huh?" Dean asked Sam after he told us what Lilith really wanted. "That's what she said." Sam said. "To call the whole thing off – angels, seals, Lucifer rising, the whole nine?" I asked, not really buying it. "That was the gist of it." Sam said and Dean hums at this.

"What?" Sam asked. "You didn't think once about taking it?" Dean asked him. "You kidding me? Dude, you and (y/n) spent all day trying to talk me off the Lilith track." Sam said. "I'm just saying..." Dean started to say but Sam talks over him. "She would have found some way to weasel out of it. And all it would have cost us was our lives." He said.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Dean mutters. "Anyway, that's not the point." Sam said. "What's the point?" I asked him. "The point is, she's scared. I could see it. Lilith is running." He replied. "Running from what?" Dean asked. "Don't know. But she was telling the truth about one thing." Sam said.

"What's that?" Dean and I asked. "She's not gonna survive the apocalypse. I'll make sure of that." Sam said, in a serious determined voice.

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