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sweetness47 · 3 years

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Fixing His Regret

Pairing Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1731

Warnings: not many, sex scene, mentions of losing a loved one, being widowed while pregnant, pining, I think there might be one or two swear words? Rated 18+ just in case

This is for @idreamofplaid and her They Belong To Us Now challenge

Prompt #30: “Stay here tonight.” (paired with) Time travel/fix it

Also for SPN Fluff Bingo 2021 square: Childhood sweethearts

And for SPN Kink Bingo 2021 square: Saran Wrap

📷

Dean smiled down from heaven as he watched Sam have a family and enjoy life. It was what he always wanted for his brother. Truth be told, it was what he’d always wished for himself, but the one person he’d wanted for that role was the one person he’d run from long ago.

YN had been one of his friends growing up. Even with all the shit that had stormed through his life, she was the one thing that always kept him going. When his dad would drag them all over, he always wrote to her, and she would write back. When they were close enough to visit in person, she would often keep him company while he was watching Sam.

He'd run because she’d confessed to having feelings for him one night. They were 16. Instead of coming clean and confessing he was in love with her, he’d turned and run away. He stopped communicating with her. Stopped writing to her. All because he was afraid of his feelings. He was afraid that he would make her a widow from hunting. That was no life for someone as amazing as YN. She deserved better. She deserved stability. Marriage to a hunter wouldn’t give her that. She was better off without him. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

But he always thought about her. About the hurt look on her face when he’d walked away from her confession. He could clearly remember the tears pooling in her eyes, and for one second his resolve nearly crumbled. But he maintained that he was doing the right thing, and shut the door on that part of his life forever.

That time he’d tried playing house with Lisa, when Sam had died, it was ok. He filled the emptiness that Sam’s death had left in his chest, but often he wished he’d been able to find YN, beg for her forgiveness, praying that she wasn’t married to someone else.

But he never pursued her. He’d hurt her. He hated himself for destroying her heart like that.

“What are you thinking about Dean?”

Jack’s voice startled Dean. He jumped, then relaxed when he saw Jack approach. “A girl I once knew. She was amazing. Smart, funny, talented, and one of the few friends I had growing up.”

Jack was intrigued. “What happened to her?”

Dean hung his head in shame. “I walked away from her confession of love. I didn’t want her wrapped up in the life of a hunter.”

“Did you tell her that? Did you even ask her if that was a deal breaker? Or did you just assume she was better off.”

Jack’s words stopped Dean in his thoughts. He really hadn’t asked YN how she felt. She knew what his dad did, she’d always known since the first day. But she was too good for this life. She deserved better, didn’t she? He’d done the right thing when he’d walked away, right?

Jack shook his head. “You didn’t ask her. Do you want that chance back? I can give you a second chance Dean. If you want it.”

Dean’s jaw dropped at Jack’s offer. “Seriously?”

Jack nodded.

Dean thought about it. How many times had he wished for a second chance? How many times had he wished he could go back and change that moment? Too many to count, that’s for certain.

“Do it.” Dean turned to Jack, who nodded again, and snapped his fingers.

Dean blinked, and as his eyesight adjusted, he found himself at a local diner he frequented a lot as a teenager, especially with YN, who happened to be sitting across from him. He remembered this day. It was the day before her confession to him.

He promised himself that this time, no matter what, he was not walking away. He was determined to stay, to keep her close, to cherish every moment he had with YN. She had been his world, and he would be an idiot to let her go a second time.

So the next evening, when she confessed she had feelings for him, he took her in his arms and admitted, “I love you too YN. A lot more than I ever thought possible.”

That was the moment they shared their first kiss. They became near inseparable after that night. When Dean dropped out of high school to keep his focus on Sam, he made sure to keep YN a part of their lives. She asked him to prom, stating there was no one else she’d rather spend the night with, and he happily said yes.

The first time they spent the night together, it was new for both of them, both physically, and mentally. Their relationship hit new heights. Dean never pushed YN, always the perfect gentleman. It was she who made the suggestion for him to stay.

The night of prom, after the dancing and celebrating were done, Dean had taken her home, like he always did after a date. She invited him in, and he accepted. Her dad was out for the weekend, having accompanied Dean’s dad on a hunt, so it was just the two of them. They cuddled and kissed, till the wee hours of the morning.

When Dean suggested he call it a night, and stood to leave, she caught his arm. “Dean? Don’t go. Stay here tonight. With me.”

Dean swallowed hard. “You sure?” he rasped.

YN nodded. “Definitely.”

Not another word was spoken as she took his hand and lead him to her bedroom. The frilly pink décor hardly occupied his thoughts. Instead, he moved to undress her, his hands shaking, mouth suddenly dry. YN was mirroring his movements, her own nerves showing as she fumbled with his clothes. When they finally free of the offending garments, he let out a low whistle.

“Beautiful.” He whispered.

YN blushed. “Back at ya.” She countered.

Dean leaned down to kiss her then, the passion burning through them as they slowly began to explore each other. Dean’s hand travelled to the sweet junction between her legs, and growled at the wetness he found. YN got a similar reaction when her hand brushed up against his rock solid erection.

Tumbling on to the bed, Dean began stroking YN’s core. She bucked and moaned as his fingers worked her sensitive nub, then slipped inside her tight channel. Her cries echoed off the walls as her walls clamped down on his fingers, her juices spilling free, coating the bed and his hand.

He moved over her. That’s when they both wondered the same thing. Protection.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked.

Dean shook his head. Shit!

YN’s face lit up suddenly. “Wait here. I have an idea.”

She raced out of the room, only to return moments later with a roll of Saran Wrap from the kitchen. Dean chuckled. “Nice.”

She tore off a piece and brazenly took initiative, wrapping his thick cock in the plastic. Then she was back on the bed, and Dean brought her legs up to wrap around his waist. She felt the blunt head as it pushed and stretched at her slick channel, past the virgin barrier, filling her. He kissed away her tears that silently fell, then he stilled, letting her get used to the feeling of him being inside.

When he moved again, she gasped as she came hard, the sensations overwhelming her. Dean thrust in and out, consuming and owning every part of her, body and soul, vowing that from this moment on, she was his, and only his.

The night and most of the next morning, Dean and YN explored their newfound status, making good use of the plastic wrap. They both giggled at the half gone roll as they finally placed it back into the kitchen pantry.

The following week, they spent near every moment together they could find, mostly because they couldn’t get enough of each other. For a graduation present, Dean managed to acquire the most stunning engagement ring, and presented it to her during the grad dinner. People cheered and clapped for the couple, but most importantly, YN’s father and Dean’s dad approved.

They married the following year. YN hunted with the boys, lived with them (obviously), sharing in their triumphs and their sorrows.

Their third year of marriage, YN presented Dean with a gift, their first child, a revelation she’d made known on Father’s day. It was the only child they chose to bring into the world before it was righted again by the brothers, and Jack.

Shortly after that day, YN found herself with child again. Her son was 12 now, and she was thrilled with the idea of surprising him again.

But that day never came.

YN was found herself widowed, and pregnant, after losing the love of her life in what should have been an easy outing for the boys. Sam and YN hugged and cried, as did John, Dean’s son, and made sure to give him a proper funeral fitting for a hunter.

Sam filled in as a male role model for John, while also finding love for himself. YN’s children, and Sam’s, were good friends as well as cousins.

Sam outlived YN by two years. He was there to keep her company when her son and daughter couldn’t. But the entire family were present when YN took her final breath. Both her son and daughter told her it was ok, that she could go and finally be with Dean.

When Dean saw his YN standing on the bridge, he ran to her and picked her up into his arms, swinging her around and showering her with kisses and tears. He praised her over and over about how well she’d done raising John and Mary, but more important, he let her know how happy he was to have her to hold again.

When Dean saw Jack standing there, looking at the two embracing, Dean smiled and hugged Jack, thanking him for giving him his heart back.

Jack just smiled and faded away, leaving the lovebirds to do some serious catching up.

@idreamofplaid @akshi8278 @drkcnry67 @lyarr24

#spnfluffbingo #spnkinkbingo #they belong to us now

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winchesterwords · 4 years

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“You and I” John Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: Set before the boys raid the vampire nest to get the colt, John visits you to get insight on which vamps have it. Owning a bar, you are a highway of information for the supernatural and an “old friend” of johns. How will he react around you while his sons meet you for the first time?

Word Count: 3753

Warning: Swearing, Alcohol, lil steamy moment

Song I Wrote To: “You and I” by Lady Gaga

Note: This is a bit canon divergence but I liked the concept. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t write smut, but I hope this lil steamy moment was okay. I don’t see enough John fics on here or ao3 so I wanted to do something. I wish we would have gotten more of his character. Tho i think that’s just cause I love JDM so much.

-------

In the dark of a lone American road, a 67’ Impala rolled along the rain-slicked street.

“You have that look on your face again,” Dean Winchester said, looking over at his brother. Sam turned to him, confused.

“What look?” he asked.

“The look that says you want to either punch Dad or punch him twice,” Dean said with a knowing glance.

“I just don’t get why he won’t tell us where we’re going,” Sam said with a deep sigh as he stared at the taillights of their father’s truck ahead of them. “He just has to make everything so damn mysterious.” Dean laughed as his thumbs drummed on the steering wheel.

“You’re just realizing that now, Sammy? Dad has always been like this, but he knows what he’s doing. Always does.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Sam grumbled and Dean rolled his eyes. In their search for the colt, they had gotten word that the break-in was perpetrated by a nest of vampires. The problem was, they weren’t sure where to start when it came to the bloodsuckers. Then, John had mentioned he knew someone who could give them a hand. That was all he said before jumping in his truck and telling his boys to follow him. Sam and Dean had done what they were told and revved the Impala’s engine, but now, Sam was getting restless.

----

John Winchester drove with an eagerness.

He knew where he was going. He had the route memorized no matter which direction he was coming from. You were the kind of woman that he couldn’t forget even if he tried. There was something about the way you didn’t take any bullshit when it came to anyone. Then there was the fact that you handled a sawed-off shotgun as well as any hunter he had ever met. John always liked keeping you to himself, his own personal getaway when things were getting a bit too dark for his tastes.

However, unfortunately, this visit would not be a social one. He needed your help and he was running out of options to find the colt. If anyone knew where to find a vamp nest with a desire for a mystical gun, it would be you.

John hit the gas and sped down the road, keeping Sam and Dean in his rearview mirror. He was actually nervous for once. There was so much of his life that he kept private from his sons. Dean knew a bit more than Sam, but they didn’t know about you. They didn’t know about how you had saved his life twice or that you had asked him to stay with you on multiple occasions, but he couldn’t. You always understood that he had a mission to complete. Not just for Mary, but for his boys as well and you respected that even when all you wanted was a bit more time with the man, just as he did with you.

Turning off the highway, John rolled into a town that seemed like coming home. Dean followed him through the winding streets as John drove straight for your bar. You had owned “The Iron Outpost” since before you had met the eldest Winchester. The entire building was lined with pure iron to keep unwanted spirits at bay. Not to mention the devil’s traps at both entrances and holy water you added to all the drinks.

You were pretty lenient with most supernaturals such as wolves, witches, even the odd vampire on occasion, but demons was where you drew the line. They never got past the door and if they tried, they would be met by you or your business partner, Dawn, who was also a hunter. The two of you had become an information highway for everything going on in the supernatural world and that was why the Winchesters were now at your doorstep.

Parking in front of the Outpost, John got out of his truck just as his sons pulled in. Sam still looked annoyed as he got out of the Impala, but Dean just looked confused. “Alright, Dad,” Dean said, “what’s going on? Who is this secret contact of yours.”

“Never said she was a secret, Dean,” John said, “I just said you had never met her.”

“She?” Sam asked.

“She’s a hunter,” John said, nodding towards the front door. “Sort of.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look before following John into the bar. It was pretty crowded for a Tuesday night. The low hum of conversation rolled throughout the room as drinks were poured and food was served. Dean immediately spotted the odd charms that hung around the main entrance, as well as the warding symbols carved into the door frame.

There were two levels in the place and people milled about on both floors, smiling and drinking their fill. It was a typical place to find hunters and Dean immediately loved it. Sam was still a bit skeptical but remained optimistic that this place would offer answers.

John searched the floor for you, but could only spot Dawn as she worked behind the bar, smiling at patrons. Moving further into the bar, John kept his eyes peeled for you. “Is she meeting us here?” Sam asked.

“She owns the bar,” John said, turning to his youngest. “She should be around here somewhere…”

“Closer than you think, Winchester,” a voice came from above and John visibly relaxed as your voice reached him. Looking up at the balcony on the second floor, he finally spotted you. Grinning, you turned and jogged down the stairs. John’s eyes followed you as you approached him and the boys.

“(Y/N),” he greeted with a smile.

“Heya, Handsome,” you said as you walked up to him. “I’ve missed you,” you whispered as you leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. John smiled down at you, taking in your face as if he was trying to memorize it. “And I see you’ve brought guests,” you said, peering over his shoulder. Though, it didn’t take long for the pieces to fit together in your mind. “Or should I say, family.”

“(Y/N),” John said, “these are my boys, Sam and Dean,” he introduced, gesturing to each of his sons. You shook both of their hands, smiling.

“Wow, John, you never mentioned how tall they were,” you said, looking at Sam with amusement in your eyes. The youngest Winchester chewed on the inside of his lip, awkwardly. Turning back to John, you sat into a single hip, crossing your arms. “What are you doin’ back in my neck of the woods?” you asked.

“Need your help on something, (Y/N),” he said and you recognized his tone of voice immediately. This wasn’t going to be one of your more...entertaining visits.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, giving him your full attention.

“We may need a bit more privacy for this conversation,” he said, glancing around and you instantly understood.

“That kind of ‘something’, huh?” John nodded, “Alright, boys. Why don’t you grab a seat and I’ll start closin’ up early. I’ll send Dawn over with a bottle,” you said. John reached out and squeezed your arm.

“Thanks,” he said. You sent him a wink and then disappeared to start clearing out customers. John led his sons over to the table he always sat at when he came to visit. Shrugging out of his coat, he leaned back and watched as you spoke to Dawn across the bar, gesturing to the three men in the corner.

“Dad?” Dean said, gaining John’s attention. “How exactly do you know her?” John sighed, running a hand over his face.

“I met her a few years ago,” John began, “I was on a hunt not too far from here. Some large-scale haunting and I hadn’t realized there was more than one ghost. These were nasty spirits. Salt slowed them down, but every time I turned around, three more would show up. I was being cornered by at least four of them and I was out of rounds when (Y/N) showed up and showered them in salt,” John chuckled slightly at the memory. “Woman was like Rambo with a salt grenade and then she hauled my ass out of there.”

“So you got your ass handed to you by a chick?” Dean asked, amused. John shrugged.

“Twice actually,” he continued. “She came with me to salt and burn the bones when a vamp came out of nowhere. Freshly turned one too. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast with a machete.”

“But I thought you said she wasn’t a hunter,” Sam said.

“I said she was sort of a hunter,” John corrected. “(Y/N) hunts when she can. Mostly local things to keep her town safe, but she has other...talents. (Y/N) is connected in the world of the supernatural. She always knows what is going on within the monster world.”

“What? Like having Wolfman on speed dial?” Dean asked and Sam kicked him under the table. Dean threw a glare at his little brother, annoyed.

“Kind of,” John said, “it’s complicated.” Dean pursed his lips but didn’t press the issue as Dawn arrived with a bottle of bourbon and four glasses. She dropped them on the table. “Thanks, Dawn,” John said. Dawn grinned at him.

“Good to see you, John,” she said. “Things have been a bit boring around here since you left.”

“You know me, D, gotta keep moving,” he said and she rolled her eyes.

“Right,” she said with a knowing look. “Alright, you guys have a good night, I’m heading out.” Dawn nodded to the boys and then gripped John’s shoulder as she headed for the back, ready to have an early night. Dean poured the drinks and handed them out, pouring an extra one for you as you finished up sending people home.

John sipped from his glass as he watched as you dragged a very drunk psychic from the bar. “It helps me see better!” the woman complained, trying to stay on her feet.

“Then go buy a bottle at the liquor store, Shay,” you said, hauling her to the door. “I got shit to do!”

“You are going to have a hard life, (Y/N),” Shay said, pointing her finger at your face. Then, the psychic fell over, trying to reach the door.

“Bet you didn’t see that coming,” you quipped as she stumbled out the door. With a final dismissal of the staff, the Outpost was finally quiet. After locking up, you joined the Winchesters, gratefully accepting the drink John handed you. “Alright, fill me in.”

“Wait,” Sam said before John could begin, “how do we know we can trust her?” Dean rolled his eyes and John narrowed his at his youngest. You, however, had expected this.

“Something tells me you have questions, Sam Winchester,” you said, downing the bourbon. “Ask away.”

“How do you get your information about the supernaturals?” Sam asked. You reached for the bottle again and poured yourself another drink as you spoke.

“I have my sources,” you explained. “Not all ‘monsters’ are bad, boys. There are wolves that eat cow hearts from the butcher and vamps that drink blood-bags instead of people. If you know which ones are the less horrible ones, you can make deals with them. Offer them protection from other hunters in exchange for information. I don’t deal in demons though,” you assured them. “However, I do know how to summon one if the situation is that dire. Which it rarely is in these parts. Psychics and witches are also easy to find and very easy to bribe once you get to know them.”

“So you run a black market for information?” Dean asked.

“That’s one way to put it, sure,” you said with a shrug. “I find that monsters are more willing to speak to you than other hunters. I offer them a deal and they usually take it.”

“What deal?” asked Sam.

“If they prove to me that they don’t kill people and offer good information, I keep them protected and keep their secret.”

“And if they break the deal?”

“Then I kill them,” you said simply.

“Just like that?” asked Dean.

“Just like that, Dean,” you said. “Satisfied?” Dean hesitated before nodding. You looked at Sam and he did the same.

“She’s good, boys,” John said and you smiled at him, gripping his shoulder.

“So,” you began, “tell me what you need.” John turned fully towards you and you could see that he was exhausted. You weren’t sure when the last time he slept was. Then again, you hadn’t seen the man for months. A hundred different things could have happened since then.

“We’re looking for the colt,” John said and your brows shot up.

“As in Samuel Colt?” you asked.

“You know it?” he asked.

“I do, but nobody knows where it is.”

“We did,” Dean interjected. “Another hunter, Daniel Elkins, had it, but it was stolen.”

“By vamps, (Y/N),” John said.

“What would vampires want with a gun like that?” you asked, confused. Everyone that knew about the supernatural was aware of the gun. It was legendary, but most people thought it was just a fable, a myth to tell monsters so they would be scared. You never imagined that someone you knew would be after it.

“We don’t know,” John said, “but we need it.” You sighed, placing your drink down.

“I can ask some of my contacts, but I can’t make any promises. And as soon as I do, people, monsters, spirits, you name it, they’re all gonna know the Winchesters are after it.”

“We’re out of options, (Y/N),” he said.

“I’ll do my best,” you said.

“Aren’t you gonna ask why we need it?” Dean asked.

“Not my business,” you said. “When you’re in the business in making deals and keeping secrets, you tend to learn to not ask questions. Excuse me,” you said as you got up and headed for your office upstairs. The three men watched after you.

As soon as the door to your office shut, John turned to his sons. “Really? Did you have to interview her like a suspect?” He didn’t wait for them to answer as he got up and followed after you.

“How well do you think they actually know each other?” Sam asked, watching after his father.

“You don’t think…?” said Dean and then he cringed. “Not an image I needed, Sammy. Not at all.”

-------

Slipping into your office, John shut the door softly behind him.

“Your boys are a lot like you,” you said from your desk as you texted away on your cell phone. John walked around the room as he looked at all the memorabilia you had from various hunts and adventures. Some he had even joined you on. When his eyes fell on the leather couch in the corner, he couldn’t keep the smirk off his face.

“Sam is like me,” John eventually said, “but Dean is more like his mother.” John turned and walked back to you as you set your phone down and walked around to lean against the desk. John met you there. You reached out and ran your hands up his chest and then over his shoulders.

“You look tired,” you said softly, looking into his hazel eyes that stared back at you through thick lashes.

“So do you,” he pointed out. You shrugged.

“It can be hard in my line of work. Never know when someone is going to need me up at three in the morning.” John nodded as his hands slid around your waist under your shirt, his large hands gripping you tighter. His thumbs rubbed along your skin. “I was hoping you’d visit soon,” you said quietly.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he said, stepping closer between your legs.

“I heard you mention the haunting we first worked,” you said as your hands crept up his neck and into his hair.

“It was a tough one,” John said. “I should have done my research and of course, listened to the local bartender who told me the history of the place.”

“Yeah, probably would have helped,” you said with a grin.

“You know,” John said, leaning forward to trail his lips along your jaw ever so slightly. “I never did thank you for saving me that night.” Your eyes fluttered closed as he nipped at your ear, your hands tightening in his hair.

“I remember you did,” you breathed out.

“Oh?” John asked, innocently. Pulling back, he looked down at you with lustful eyes. “Would you mind reminding me?” With a hard tug, your lips met his and he grabbed your hips, placing you on the desk.

John kissed you hard as he tried to make up for all the time lost between the two of you. You gripped him tightly, letting him take control. His hands moved from your waist to your hips and then your thighs as he took charge of your body.

Sliding your hands from his hair to his waist, you ran them up his stomach beneath his shirt, feeling his hard chest beneath your fingers. John pressed in closer, gripping the back of your neck to tilt your head back for better access. When he parted your lips, a small groan echoed from your throat which only made him more eager.

There was nothing better than kissing John Winchester. He was the only man to ever make you feel like this and the second he walked out of your bar, you craved him until he returned.

Your nails raked down his back as he let go of your lips and moved to your jaw and then down to your throat. Leaning back on the desk, you let him mark you, feeling electricity flow through your veins. You gasped as he bit down just above your collarbone. Keeping one hand on your neck, he used the other to grip your thigh. Your leg came up and between his legs. John pressed his body against yours harder at the movement.

You were flush against him, feeling his body fit perfectly against your own. He dragged his teeth along your throat, eliciting another moan from your mouth. “You’re gonna cause trouble if you keep doing that,” he whispered against your skin. “Not that I’m complaining,” he said as he lay you back on the desk, running his hands along your body as he leaned over you.

“Don’t be a tease,” you warned as he grinned, wrapping your leg around his waist.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a smirk as he trailed a finger across your chest.

“John,” you breathed out as he moved back to your lips, swallowing your whispers.

Just as his hand began to move towards the waistband of your jeans, your phone rang.

“Fuck,” you groaned as he paused. Detangling yourself from his body, you slid off the desk and grabbed your phone. John stood back, trying to control his breathing as he smoothed down his shirt. You fussed with your own clothes as you picked up the call.

John didn’t listen as you spoke to whatever contact you had reached out to. Instead, he tried to come down from the high he had just experienced in that small moment with you. He had almost forgotten what it had felt like to have you in his arms, to feel you respond to his touch. His heart jumped in anticipation at the thought of having the opportunity again, he knew it was unlikely. They still had a job to do.

“You’re in luck,” you said, grabbing his attention as you pocketed your phone. John turned to you. You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand and smoothed your hair. “I have the location.”

-----

Once the two of you had made sure you didn’t look like horny teenagers, you rejoined Sam and Dean.

“I got it,” John said, raising a piece of paper in his hand. Your vampire contact, a nomad who you had crossed paths with occasionally had heard about two humans who had been taken by a nest. A nest that was gloating about getting the jump on some guy named Elkins.

“Just like that?” Dean asked.

“I told you,” John said, “she’s good.” Sam still looked skeptical, but Dean seemed to be alright with how things turned out.

“Do you guys need anything else?” you asked, trying not to let the sadness on your face show. You knew he had to leave now and you weren’t sure when you would see him again.

“We’re good,” John said softly and you nodded, crossing your arms.

“Well, don’t any of you be a stranger, okay?” you said. “And for god’s sake be careful so I don’t have to hunt you down cause you got turned.”

“We’ll do our best,” John said with a longing look that Dean caught immediately.

“We’ll meet you outside, Dad,” Dean said as he grabbed his brother’s jacket. “It was nice meeting you, (Y/N),” he said and you nodded back to the both of them. As soon as the door closed behind them, you grabbed John’s arm.

“You’re going after it, aren’t you?” you asked. “The demon. That’s what the colt’s for.” John grimaced and you sighed. He had told you about the yellow-eyed demon the second time he had come to see you. To most people, a conversation like that would seem like bad pillow talk, but it was normal for the two of you.

“You know I have to,” he said, reaching for you. His hand came up to hold the side of your face.

“I know,” you said. “He’s not gonna know what hit him when John Winchester shows up with Samuel Colt’s gun on his hip,” you said as you pulled him closer, your hand resting on the place his gun normally sat. You pulled his lips to yours and you kissed him fiercely. He melted into the kiss and you felt as if this was finally goodbye. You didn’t know why, but something about the way you held each other spoke volumes.

Pulling back, you looked right in his eyes and tried to memorize those beautiful hazel irises. “(Y/N), you are...it’s been you for so long,” he whispered and you fought back tears. You kissed him once more, letting your lips linger for just a few seconds before letting go again.

“Go get the bastard,” you said. John smiled at you.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

#winchesterwords #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #john winchester #john winchester imagine #john winchester x reader #reader insert #apolloloki97 #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #spn fic #spn imagines #JOhn winchester fic

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

The right guy

Summary: Dean is more than a rebound guy to you and his brother doesn’t like it a bit.

Pairing: AU!Dean x Reader, former AU!Sam x Reader, Sam x Jess (mentioned)

Warnings: angst, language, arguments, jealous Sam, OOC Sam

A/N: Sequel to Rebound Guy

Six months later…

Jessica Moore, daughter of Mr. Marcus Moore and Karen Moore,

and Sam Campbell, son of Mrs. Mary Cambell,

request the honor of your presence

at their wedding

on the twenty-eighth of May, two thousand twenty

at two o'clock in the afternoon

Regency Hallway Ballroom

Lebanon, Kansas

Dinner & dancing to follow

Black tie & robe required

Dean has to reread the invitation he got to his brothers wedding thrice to be sure Sam didn’t even name his father. While he sulks silently, ready to rip the invitation into tiny pieces you snuggle closer to him.

“What killed your mood, Baby?” Leaning your head against Dean’s shoulder you glance at the envelope in his hands. You recognize the handwriting – it’s Sam’s. “Sam…huh?”

“He didn’t call or talk to me for over two months again and now he sends me an invitation to his freaking wedding. See, he didn’t even name our father.” Dean sniffles, as you crawl onto his lap to cup his face. “I know dad and Sammy, they had bad blood but this…this is…”

“Sam should be ashamed, Dean. This has nothing to do with arguments or living the life you want. Naming only his mother is…”

Nodding Dean tosses the invitation onto the table to place his hands at small of your back. “Your father found his mother's murderer if anything this is worth to be named.”

“I know…” Dean sighs deeply, not understand how Sam could be that cold-hearted to not name John.

He knows that his father was far from being good at parenting but Sam became the man he is thanks to his father. “We should do something else than attending a wedding we are not wanted at…”

“Dean, he sent you an invitation…” You try to find a way to survive Sam’s wedding and to not let Dean down. “I…I hate to attend this wedding too, Dean. Sam, he made me feel like I am not good enough.”

“You’re not the one who fucked up, Y/N. It was Sam’s fault and I must admit.” Pecking your lips Dean grins up at you. “I love he lost you ‘cause it’s my win…”

“Can I be honest, Dean?” Humming Dean runs his hands up and down your back. “I loved Sam, but he gave me the feeling I have to fake things sometimes.”

“Orgasms?” Now you snicker. Dean has the talent to distract you from intrusive thoughts. “I dare you to fake anything with me, Sweetheart.”

“Nah. This wasn’t about sex. In the beginning, it was a wild ride, ya know. Unlike you, Sam lost interested one day. I thought that like other pairs…”

You know you sound like a fool and stop to find excuses. “I think I knew the moment Sam stopped kissing my neck in the morning or to drag me into the shower to have a quickie that he had someone else on his mind. I was just too chicken to confront him…”

“I’d like to drag you into the shower right fucking now, Sweetheart.” Licking your lips, you wrap your arms around Dean’s neck. “You’re a red-blooded woman and I love it. When you bend over my car, I want nothing more than to marry you or fuck you right there and then…”

“Difficult decision, Mr. Winchester. How about we stay with fucking me over the hood and keep the marrying me part for later…” Dean nods eagerly, already sliding his hands down your ass to grope it roughly when the doorbell rings.

“Son of a bitch! Can a man not have dirty sex on his car with his girl on a Sunday morning?”

Reluctantly shoving you off his lap Dean gets up, but not without having a good look at your ass in one of his boxers. “Love you are wearing one of my shirts, Sweetheart.”

While you give Dean a wink, already walking toward the kitchen when he opens the door, your boyfriend freezes. Someone he didn’t want to see after getting the invitation leans against his doorframe.

“Did you get my invitation?” Sam looks over Dean’s shoulder to get a glimpse of you only in your panties and one of Dean’s shirts. An unreadable look on his face Sam watches you place a tray onto the table.

If Sam would be honest, he would admit that deep down inside he had hoped that you and Dean broke up. That his elder brother was only a rebound guy to you but here you are, beautiful as ever, maybe even more beautiful while you are wearing the wrong man’s shirt.

“I got it like three days ago.” Not giving away he’s disappointed, hurt even, Dean crosses his arms over his chest.

“Won’t you let me in?” Sam’s eyes are still glued to you when Dean clears his throat and you look at him, recognizing Sam lusting over you. “Dean?”

“I have to discuss this with my girlfriend before I let you in. We invite people…together.” The door closes and you can’t stop the snorts leaving your lips.

“So…we invite people together now, Babe?” Dean shrugs, glancing at your exposed legs, suddenly too aware of what his brother was staring at the whole time.

“How about I change into something less revealing and you can talk to your brother. I’ll stay in the bedroom…”

“My girlfriend will not hide in a room to avoid my brother. If you want me to attend his wedding and let him in, you’ll stay by my side. Sam can’t come here and ruin our Sunday morning rituals only as he wants me to attend his shitty wedding.” A smile on your lips your cup Dean’s face to kiss him softly.

“I’ll change and we can have breakfast. Thanks to you, I don’t want to kill your brother any longer…” Pecking Dean’s lips again you smirk.

“Why?” While you walk toward your shared bedroom, sway in your hips you turn around to give Dean a wink. “Y/N?”

“I’ll tell you later, Dean. Now let your brother in as the ‘bend me over your car’ part ain’t off the table.” Dean nods eagerly, a dirty grin on his lips. “Love you, Babe.”

“Love you too, Sweetheart.” A love confession leaving his lips easily is something Dean never imagined before but here he is, head over heels for you, his brother’s ex-girlfriend…

“Rules.” Dean glances at the bedroom door, waits for you to come out while he makes sure Sam will behave. “No staring at my girl, no mentioning of your past or pulling shit like last time.”

“Okay…fine…” Sam licks his lips, hearing the door open.

“I mean it, Samuel.” Lump in his throat Sam looks at his brother. Dean never called him Samuel before, not a single time. Not when he found him after he left. Not at John’s burial.

“Y/N and I met without knowing you were her ex. Cut the crap and live with the fact that your ex-girlfriend, the one you dropped for Jess, is my best girl now.”

Dean’s eyes follow Sam’s when you step out of the bedroom. Both men look you all over, drink your outfit in while you only have eyes for Dean. Wearing shorts, a crop top, and no shoes you walk toward Sam, offering your hand with a faked smile.

“Samuel. What brings you into our simple home?” Your smile turns cold. You saw the look on Sam’s face. Dean is a simple guy, doesn’t need fancy furniture, just like you.

All you needed to feel comfortable in his apartment was a few fluffy pillows, a new mattress, and decorative crap – as Dean calls the fairies on the bookshelf or the colorful vase you placed onto the kitchen counter.

“Y/N…” Sam chokes out watching you sit next to his brother, not him. Dean’s hand places yours onto his thigh and you smile at the gentle gesture.

“I…I wanted to say I am sorry for the way I ended our relationship and my reaction the last time we met here.”

“What’s past is past, Samuel. If I am completely honest, our relationship never fulfilled me.” You can see Sam’s face fall when you lean your head against Dean’s shoulder. “I have to thank you for treating me like trash.”

Sam looks at you, surprised by your words. “Thank me? I don’t think I understand…”

“Well, without you acting like an idiot I would’ve never met my soulmate, the man loving me the way I am, Sam. Without you, I would’ve never gone to a bar to get drunk and forget I wasted years on a man not loving me enough to support my dreams.”

Your words are like daggers to Sam’s heart, but he must admit – he brought it upon himself.

“So…thank you, Sam.” Your smile is genuine now and it makes Sam realize, you mean what you said. Dean is the man holding your hand, and he’s the person getting to see you smile. “I hope you are as happy as I am about your decision to end us.”

“Yeah…uh—ahem. I am happy, very happy.” Sam is not very convincing but you let it slip as you don’t want to cause trouble between Dean and his brother.

“That’s the reason I am here, to be honest. We need confirmation that you will attend our wedding.”

Hopefully, almost desperate Sam looks at his elder brother, the last family he’s got left. “I don’t know if you want a Winchester at your wedding.” Dean tries to control his anger and disappointment, tries to ignore Sam did not name his father.

“You’re mad about the names on the invitation…I get it.” While Dean squeezes your hand, you try to encourage him to let his frustration out.

“Wouldn’t you be mad if your brother, the only family you have left not only changed his surname but also pretended for years to have no family. Then he sends you an invitation to his wedding and doesn’t even name his father…”

You tried to keep your mouth shut but you saw the hurting in Dean’s eyes and just can’t stop your tongue from slipping. “That was low, Samuel. Even if you and your father didn’t get along well, you could’ve named him. He wasn’t a monster, only a man on a mission…”

“A possessive bastard.” Sam retorts and Dean gives him a warning glare. “He wasn’t a father, rather a drill sergeant.”

“Yes, he was. John Winchester was a possessive bastard, determined to find his wife’s murderer. And yes, he wanted us to become cops, but this isn’t a reason to change your surname. You did it as mom’s family was wealthy and dad was just…”

“Simple…” You whisper.

“He was a simple man, found happiness in simple things like watching his son become a lawyer.

You know, he was there and watched you from afar as he knew, just like me, that he wasn’t allowed to be a part of your life. When he called you, it was out of desperation to see his son one last time before cancer killed him.”

Huffing Dean looks at the invitation, and his hands shake when he opens the card. “Not even now you can give him a tiny bit of respect, Sammy. All dad wanted was for you to forgive him. If you would’ve come here only once, you…”

“He was stubborn. Dad would’ve never forgiven me for not following his lead. He wanted me to become a cop.” Sam talks back and Dean, well Dean drops the invitation.

“John Winchester was a stubborn man, a proud one but, he would have apologized to you for the pressure he put on you. With his last breath, he said two things.” Dean is close to tears and you need to squeeze his thigh to help him bring the words out he told you months ago.

“Dad, he said that he loves me and that he’s proud calling me his son and then he said I shall tell you that he’s sorry. That he wishes he could’ve said goodbye. His last word was Sammy and then he was gone…”

“He did…” Choking on his words Sam tries to read his brother's expression but over the years, he lost his brother, just like his father. Now a foreign man sits in front of him with watery eyes and Sam can only blame himself.

“I shouldn’t come to your wedding, Sammy. I know you did it out of…I got no clue why you did it but…” Dean gives his brother a sad smile when he places the invitation into his hands.

“You will be happier if you keep on pretending, I never existed, just like dad. There will be so many people you are genuinely interested in, you won’t need me – the brother you didn’t want any longer, at your wedding.”

“Dean, please don’t say things like that. I left because of dad…not you.” Sam tries one last time, but Dean laughs bitterly.

“Odd. Last time I checked you didn’t contact me since dad died and even before, you did not waste a single thought at me. Go ahead, live your life and keep me out of your family, as I am a Winchester and you aren’t…according to your invitation.” Storming out of the room Dean slam the door shut behind him.

“That wasn’t the best result…” Sam sighs deeply, still holding the invitation in his hands. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Dean…is he more than a rebound guy to you? Do you love him?” Surprised you look at Sam, meet his hazel eyes for the first time since he entered your home. “Y/N?”

“Yes. Dean is so much more than a rebound guy, Sam.” Smiling you look at Dean who reenters the room. “Dean is the right guy. The one I was looking for…”

“The right guy…” Dean mumbles.

“I know that I can’t force you to come to my wedding, Dean but please rethink your decision. There’s still time and I don’t need an answer today.”

Placing the invitation and a card with his phone number onto the table Sam looks hopefully at his brother.

“I know that I messed up big time, Dean but the invitation wasn’t my idea. Jess ordered them, just like everything else and I just saw dad wasn’t on it... She believed it’s the right thing to do to avoid questions…”

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll think about it, Sammy. Let me think about it and I’ll call you next weekend. If you can wait that long.” Sam nods, even get up to hug Dean tightly.

“I hope you will come. I need you at my wedding, brother.” Sniffling you look at Dean who doesn’t know how to act around his brother. “Please…”

“I will call you, promised…”

Part 3

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redneckangelsdrinkmoonshine · 3 years

Text

Okay, here's a thing -

I kind of like that Cas and John never met because if they did, well, lemme use the form of fanfic to show you what I think would've happened:

"Dean?"

"Cas! Come here buddy, want you to meet someone!"

Castiel walked down the noisy metal stairs, took a second to process where his human's voice was coming from and once he decided it was the kitchen, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his trench coat and headed down the hall. A small smile curled at the corners of his lips as Dean and Sam's laughter echoed off the walls, a sound that made his heart warm but unfortunately he got to hear it on a rather rare occasion.

Castiel stood in the doorway, about to greet his family, when his blood started to boil and turned to ice at the same time. He clenched his jaw as he pulled his hands out of his pockets and instead widened his stance with clenched fists.

That monster sat there on Castiel's chair, chugging down what the angel assumed was his third beer. The smile on Dean's face, who seemed to be drunk on his daddy's venom, pierced right through Castiel's heart as he innocently introduced them to one another, "Dad, this is Castiel, that son of a bitch who gripped me tight and raised me from perdition." Dean lifted the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the scar that had stayed there. Castiel got on idea.

John's expression was already sour but Castiel wanted to make things better. He gave John a brief, plastic smile before he decided to focus his attention on his adorable lover who was wearing plaid pyjama pants and one of Castiel's t-shirt's from his time as a human, "Well, I like to mark what's mine. Babe, would you get me a beer?" Castiel softly bumped his foot against Sam's who slammed his beer down as he started to choke. Judging by his twitching nose, he was actually laughing at John's pure expression of horror and Dean's slightly shocked face. The older brother didn't hesitate as he got up and walked to the refrigerator to pull out a cold one for Cas. He put it down in front of Castiel and Sam let out a wheeze that he masked with a cough when Castiel gently patted Dean's bum, "Thank you." Dean nodded with a soft smile before he returned to his seat, way too scared to look John in the eyes and instead focusing his eyes on Sammy and his lover.

John spoke up as he raised from his chair, looking down at Castiel, "'Ey, Cas, why don't you come with me.. I think we need to have a chat." Dean's eyebrows lifted briefly and he momentarily flared his nose drills at his angel. Castiel gave him a reassuring grin before he took the beer, removed the cap with two fingers and finished the whole thing in three chugs. He stood up from the chair and a smirk curled at his lips when he saw the small surprise in John's otherwise cold eyes. Without saying a word, Castiel walked out of the kitchen confidently, not looking back even though he didn't hear the man follow him until later.

Castiel was sitting on his chair at the big wooden table in the library when John's low voice made his presence known, "So... You're the angel who saved my son from hell? After his stupidity got him there in the first place?" Castiel got up, letting his true eyes flash for a moment, knowing damn well the bright blue light that poured out of them always made his power known," First off, I'm not just an angel. A Seraph, to be exact. In fact, I'm taller than most of your sky scrapers here. And second, please tell me how your son is stupid when you did the exact same thing not that long before him?" John's jaw twitched but not like Dean's did when he was angry, John looked like a snake when he did that, "I let them torture me for a one hundred years while my son wasn't even able to go thirty years before he -" "I'm going to stop you here. You see, you most likely think I don't know what happened while you were in Hell. But I do, I know every single second of it. I know how at one point you begged them to torture you, because they never even touched you with a finger. The form of torture they had for you was to have all the times you let your kids down, all the times you hurt the ones you were supposed to raise with love, replay in front of your eyes but not from your point of view but from their's. You felt their pain, you felt their anger and I am sure that no matter what you'd ever say, that hurt so bad that you'd prefer any other form of physical torture than that. But listen to me, your son has a heart of gold. The time he lasted was longer than most because people usually give up five minutes after the torture's began. When your son gave up, I had people of my qarrison, good solders, I made them follow me down there so I could save him. The moment I held him against my chest, I felt like home, that's how pure your son's heart is, heart that ached for love since it was born. I've given up powers, I've given up armies, I've given up Heaven for your sons and I would do that again. But for now, one of them expects me to be their family and the other expects me to love him unconditionally. Well, that's exactly what I am gonna do."

Castiel turned to walk away when John's voice made him stop a few feet away from him, "How exactly can a low-life disgrace like you TEACH my kids how to love is so unclear to me. You're nothing but a faggot that somehow got lucky and now you're pouring your poison all over th-" John wasn't able to finish his sentence because Castiel's fist sent him to the ground before he could. He crouched down and gripped John's neck with one hand before he lifted him up effortlessly, the punches and kicks that John desperately tried to lay on him didn't make him even twitch because the anger in his veins burned worse than any other form of injury he could get. He heard Sam and Dean call his voice, he was aware that both had followed them and eavesdropped the entire time, but he didn't care. John gasped for air as Castiel spoke up, his voice low and dangerous, "You think Heaven gives a damn about who you lay with? You're damn wrong. You see, even if you have an icon in your car somewhere, if you were a piece of shit then you still go to Hell. Too bad Heaven's already using you like one of their batteries." Castiel released John from his grip and the man fell to the ground with a groan. The angel put two fingers to his forehead and smirked when John flinched," What's up, boy? I thought you're not scared of some fag with power." John stared up at Castiel in surprise when he realized that whatever injuries he had were gone.

Castiel turned on his heel and walked away while Sam helped his father up, just to get pushed away with "I'm fine" growled under his breath. Dean, however, followed Castiel, but the angel was too ashamed to look at these soft green eyes that he loved so much.

"Cas, wait." Castiel did. He sighed before he turned to face the man, but his eyes were glued to Dean's shoes instead of his eyes, "Look, I won't apologize for what I just did because I had to. Ever since you were born, even before that, ever since Mary bought that angel figurine I had to watch that assbutt treat his family like crap and all of the pent up anger released itself and I know I should've just walked away, I tried to, but then he decided he knew Heaven better and I shouldn't show you and your brother love when you need it and I-"

Castiel's eyes widened in surprise when he was pulled into a kiss. Dean's hands cupped his face softly but firmly as everything was he wasn't able to say with words was poured into that kiss. The "I love you." to the "Thank you." and even the "That was extremely hot." Castiel allowed his eyes to shut before he slowly sneaked his hands under Dean's shirt and dug his fingertips into Dean's back just the way he knew Dean liked it. The low sound that rumbled from somewhere in his human's chest indicated that he had done a good job in remembering all of Dean's weak spots.

When they pulled back they both had smiles that were drunk with love, Castiel's hair was all over the place because sometime during their kiss Dean had started to run his fingers through it and pull. The tie on Cas's suit was also loosened and his shirt was unbuttoned three buttons down. Castiel's hands were still under Dean's clothes but no longer under Dean's shirt. Dean giggled in a way that would've made him terrified earlier in his life but he no longer gave a damn because he was in love and that was important, "You think what I'm thinking?" Castiel pretended to think which made Dean swat at his chest playfully. Castiel chucked as he gripped Dean's hand and started to pull him down the hall, "Let's go, cowboy."

What followed afterwards was Heaven on Earth for the two but complete Hell for John who took the guest room that was just down the hall. Sammy had learned his lesson and he had bought himself noise cancelling headphones and enough podcasts to help him through the night if one of Rowena's spells failed and his room was no longer soundproof.

To be honest... Yeah, they should've met AT LEAST ONCE.

#supernatural #destiel #Some fanfic because I'm a junkie for destiel #Wrote that in less than one hour sorry for typos #Cas and John ain't gonna be besties

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deansmom · 3 years

Text

this is a draft from some time in s12 with background established deancas, tattooed!dean and mary getting to know dean. (ao3)

The first time Mary patches Dean up after a hunt, he tries not to squirm.

He’s sitting on the motel bed in Cas’ running shorts and nothing else because he’s got a huge gash across his chest and twenty minutes ago he had a knife sticking out of his shin. Vonnegut is staring up at him from his thigh.

Dean’s had worse. Hell, he’s stitched up worse on his own - but this time his mom was there.

Mary comes out of the bathroom and freezes in the doorway, blinking at him.

He offers her and awkward wave and winces at the movement.

It seems to snap Mary out of it because she shakes her head a little and walks over, “Sorry, I just...”

She makes a noise that Dean thinks is supposed to be a laugh.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

Dean smiles a little bit to himself, amused, “You’ve seen the protection sigil.”

Mary rolls her eyes and sets the first aid kit on the bed next to him, “Yeah, I’ve seen the protection sigil but I didn’t know that you had Vonnegut on your thigh.”

Something in Dean’s chest clenches and melts all at once and the sudden rush of emotion knocks all the wind out of him.

He licks his lips and has to clear his throat to get any words to come out. His voice cracks, “You like Vonnegut?”

Mary laughs quietly as she pours the vodka from the trunk over the stab wound. Dean sucks in a breath and grips the mattress, biting his tongue to keep from yelping.

“He was one of my favorite authors,” she explains, dabbing the wound with some gauze. “Slaughterhouse-Five is one of the only books I read after graduating.”

Dean hisses, not sure what to say.

Mary finishes cleaning the wound up and out and sits back against the other bed while she gets the bandage, gauze and tape together.

“It’s... beautiful.”

Dean looks up, surprised and a little embarrassed. It’s nothing special. It’s old and faded now and it needs to be touched up soon. Some random kid the year he dropped out of high school threw a party and his older brother had a tattoo gun. Dean gave the kid his last twenty bucks and got a pretty solid, but still shit tattoo at sixteen.

John wanted to kill him.

He tells Mary as much as he leans back on the bed, “He didn’t see it until we were on a hunt when I was eighteen. I thought he was gonna hand me over to the vampires we were hunting.”

She doesn’t say much, just lets Dean talk and tell her about how angry John was and all the awful stuff he said to their son.

Mary can see some other tattoos peeking out from under Dean’s shorts and on his lower calf. They’re all older and faded, and she feels like she’s stumbled onto something she’s not supposed to see.

She finishes bandaging up his shin and pats the other knee gently, “Ok kiddo, you ready for me to clean up your chest?”

It takes her a moment to get off the floor, using Dean’s good knee as a brace to do so. He offers her a hand but she just waves him off, “I’m fine, you’re the one who looks like shit.”

Dean laughs, a genuine laugh, before moving to lay fully on the bed.

“Gee, thanks mom. That makes me feel better.”

Mary pokes his armpit as she sits next to him, reorganizing the first aid kit. She catches a glimpse of another tattoo near Dean’s armpit and spends half a second too long staring at it.

Dean shifts a little bit on the bed, “You’re gonna give a guy a complex.”

She shakes her head, laughing at herself, “Sorry, sorry, I just -”

Mary looks at him again, trying to broadcast acceptance with her expressions and body language.

“I’ve been around you for a while now Dean and I had no idea you had tattoos.”

She smiles tiredly and looks away quickly, grabbing the vodka again.

“Just seems like something a mom should know.”

The room goes quiet again while Mary works on cleaning Dean up. The tick tick ticking of the old clock in the kitchen fills the silence of the motel room.

In the room next to them the TV is blasting some infomercial. There’s a car in the parking lot that has their bass turned all the way up and if Dean closes his eyes, he can almost feel the bass.

Dean opens his mouth to say something, anything, and Cas opens up the motel door with dinner in hand.

He lets out a breath and smiles, some of the tension in the room and most of the tension in Dean’s body dissipates.

“Burgers? You’re awesome.”

Once the case is done and they make it back to the bunker, Dean finds Mary in the library. She’s flipping through one of the big tombs.

Sometimes Dean thinks it’s funny just how much of his mom he sees in Sam. If Mary had brown hair and was freakishly tall, they’d look identical in this moment.

The air switches on and the clank of the old metal startles Mary, making her look up at Dean. “Oh, hey.”

Dean offers her a small smile, “Hey.”

He’s nervous. He hasn't’ been able to stop thinking about what Mary said in the hotel room - things that a mom should know about her son.

It’s not a big deal, it really isn’t, but... it is. His tattoos are all small and objectively bad, but they’re little pieces of who he is. They represent all the different parts and important people of Dean’s life and they’re... personal.

“I, um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have a couple tattoos.”

If Mary’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. “Oh,” she says. “Ok.”

“The Vonnegut one, you saw...” Dean clears his throat and shifts on his feet, “And uh, I have dad’s dog tags - that’s what was by my armpit.”

He raises his arm just enough so that Mary can see the edge poking out of his sleeve. She lets out a small breath and gets out of the chair like she wants to walk over to Dean.

He interrupts her before she can say or do anything else, “And, uh, I have the opening chord progression from Hey Jude on the other thigh. Cause...” Dean shrugs kinda helplessly, “Y’know.”

Mary looks like she wants to cry.

Dean coughs, clearing his throat, “And, uh, Sam’s birth and death days on this side of my ribs.” He pauses for a beat, something occurring to him, “I should probably update that one.”

That startles a laugh out of Mary, “Yeah, probably.”

He hesitates for a moment, suddenly nervous to tell her what the other two are.

They’ve made a conscious decision to never hide their relationship, but they don’t go around parading it either. And for one terrifying moment, Dean wonders if his mom knows that he’s in love with his best friend who’s also an angel.

“Um,” Dean clears his throat, his voice going deeper all of a sudden. “And uh - this one.”

He pulls his jeans down just about an inch on his left hip to reveal a line of enochian in white ink. It’s the newest one Dean has even though it’s already a couple years old. It’s beautiful small, fragile line work with some red outlining to make certain letters pop.

Mary steps closer, about to lean down to look at it before realizing what she’s doing.

Dean laughs nervously and shrugs, “It’s fine.”

She smiles and gets close enough to just look at it, but not touch, “It’s beautiful.”

The compliment makes Dean’s heart swell a little bit, “Thanks. It’s my favorite one.”

Mary stands up fully, meeting his eyes with a kind smile, “What’s it say?”

The frankness of the question catches Dean off guard for a moment, but it shouldn’t. It also steals the wind out of him for a moment, because, well -

“It, uh,” Dean clears his throat, tucking his shirt back in. “It says beloved.”

Before Mary can say anything, Dean clears his throat again, trying to make himself sound normal and not like he’s freaking out. “And, uh, the last one is just... a C.”

It’s another white ink tattoo and it’s fading, always fading, but Dean loves it. It’s on the webbing of his ring finger.

The library is quiet for a moment, the only sound filling the room is Cas and Sam in the kitchen. The air kicks off, making Dean jump this time with the old metal settling.

“So,” Dean rubs the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at his mom. “Yeah. I just - I... y’know.”

Wanted you to know, he wants to say. Thought you might care, he thinks.

Mary smiles and sets a hand on Dean’s forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Dean looks up again, meeting her eyes and smiles nervously, “S’no big deal.”

She opens her mouth to say something else, but is interrupted.

“Dean!” Castiel pokes his head in the doorway, smiling at them, “Hello, Mary. Dinner is ready if you’re hungry.”

Mary can’t help but notice the way all the tension leaves Dean’s body again, but she doesn’t dare say anything about it.

It’s not her place. It’s no more her place than if they were two strangers at a gas station.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean offers, a small private smile on his face. “We’ll be in there in a minute.”

Castiel nods and leaves without preamble.

Mary still doesn’t know what to make of him.

Dean clears his throat, the deeply awkward feeling settling in around them, “I, uh… I know that you’re, y’know.”

He cringes before he can stop himself, “Not entirely comfortable. But I just…” Dean harrumphs, his arms coming up to wrap around himself, “I don’t know. You’re… my mom.”

Even if he’s not her Dean, which he understands, he still wants her to know him.

And he thinks she wants that too. To know them as men, as people… to just be a friend.

Mary just squeezes his elbow gently, too scared to say something that will fuck up the moment.

Dean gets it.

“Come on.” He offers her a smile, his head inclined towards the kitchen, “Let’s get some food.”

#spndeancas #dean and mary #destiel text #deancas fic #mackenzie attempts fics #personal #otp: cursed or not

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lovelazarus · 3 years

Text

rating: Mature

archive warning: graphic depictions of violence

words: 2645

tags: Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Harm (fairly graphic), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, graphic description of suicide attempt, Flashbacks, Trauma, Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Dean is alive, Castiel is alive, Hurt/Comfort, POV Dean Winchester, brief mention of John Winchester - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Sad with a Happy Ending, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Past Abuse, Homophobic Language, 15x20 Fix-It

summary: (This fic starts out with a graphic dream/flashback of Dean's mid-20s.) Cas showed up to save Dean in 15x20 after he let himself get impaled on rebar, his attempt to stop living while thinking Cas was truly gone in the Empty. It's been a few months since that event in the Barn. Things have been calm since Chuck lost his power & Jack brought Castiel back to help rebuild heaven (although Jack isn't in this directly!). Even with things being okay, Dean's decades of trauma are still bubbling up and Dean has to face the reality of his actions (past & present).

PLEASE read all tags before reading!

The last thing Dean remembers is sitting down on the couch in the Deancave, waiting for Cas to come pick tonight's movie. He must’ve dozed off at some point because suddenly it's 2004 and he’s 25 years old again.

The two years Sammy was off at Stanford was one of Dean’s lowest points in life; including his trip to hell, being a demon & helping kick start the apocalypse. He was completely alone.

Sam was gone, John was irate and blamed Dean for Sam leaving, for not stopping him from leaving. Dean was hunting alone, without his family, for the first time in his life. His last hunt however was the first to deeply scar him irrevocably.

A father and 2 sons, roughly the same age apart as him and Sam. Both attacked by an extremely vengeful spirit, the father was gutted and the sons were supernaturally manipulated into hanging themselves. Dean walked into their house hoping to save the family after following trails of the case, but he walked into a gruesome scene that left him shaking and holding back from vomiting.

In Dean’s mind, it was a representation of his own torn apart family. He left the home, found the grave of the spirit, and put it to rest with unsteady hands and bleary eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time… I could’ve saved you and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t good enough to help you. I’m so sorry.” Dean whispers, half to the victims and half to his younger brother, thousands of miles away and unable to hear his plea.

He gets to the motel room he rented with his duffle slung over his shoulder and stands outside the door with the key in his hand, almost afraid to enter, lest he finds another sick and twisted scene inside. He exhales roughly and shoves the key into the door and strides in.

All that's inside his cheap bottle of gas station whiskey and a pack of menthols.

He drops his duffle on the extra twin bed before scooping up his liquor and smokes. He wants to erase this entire hunt from his mind if he can.

Oh, how he wants to.

Three hours later his whole pack is gone, cigarette butts shoved into an old ashtray, and 3/4th the bottle of whiskey is sitting harshly in his stomach. Dean can’t stop picturing that family as his own. Thoughts of his father’s anger circle inside his mind like a tornado.

“I told you to watch out for Sammy, boy! Do you even use that brain other than to continuously disappoint me and fail your brother? To fail Mary?”

HIT

“I left you alone for two weeks! TWO WEEKS THAT'S ALL! Now Sam has run off and you’re going to pay for it.”

HIT

“So you blew through all the money I left you and now you’re turning tricks like some little faggot? You’re going to influence Sammy to that shit and I won’t allow my sons to be like that.”

HIT

With each memory of John rushing back into Dean’s mind, he can still feel the physical hits coming. His dad was right. This would never have happened if he hadn’t been more careful. If he had protected Sam like he was told to. If he had been a better son.

He finishes the last of the whiskey as the screams of his father’s voice start to fade back into the black void inside his mind. But the moment the last drop of liquor touches his tongue, he breaks. Every punch landed by his father that he took in order to protect Sam comes rushing back. Every harsh word and drunken fight he got into. Every argument with Sam over being too controlling, too much of a soldier.

Dean feels sick.

The toilet in that crappy motel room has certainly seen better days, but no matter how much Dean vomits, he stays just as drunk.

In a moment of blind anger, he destroys the kitchenette, the TV, and the nightstand. He chucks the empty whiskey bottle at the wall and watches the glass fly everywhere as it shatters.

He absent-mindedly picks up a large piece of glass.

This could kill me. One quick and easy slash to my neck or wrist and that’d be it. No more pain for Sam, and no more disappointment for dad.

He lets his hand drop to his side and allows the shard to fall to the floor. This isn’t the first time he’s had thoughts like this in moments of weakness, but it's certainly the first time there was a calm push behind it. He collapses to his knees with a broken sob. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. He's tired.

God, he is so tired.

Dean isn’t sure when he decided this was his only option to stop the deep visceral pain he’s feeling, but it's where he’s at now.

Swallow all the pills in the med bag? No, that's what bitches and girls do, plus… it's painful.

Slit his wrists in a nice warm bath? Even worse than pills! You really are some kind of faggot, aren’t you?

Shotgun to the face? Now that's the man’s way out.

He pauses, looking over to his favorite sawed-off. It’ll be an absolute mess if that’s the way he goes. He thinks again to the family he couldn’t save; how gory and horrific it was. He shudders and breathes in sharply. He can’t do that to someone else, especially not some innocent civilian.

“Of course,” he mutters under his breath “I have a rope in the trunk.” So that’s the plan.

He stuffs all his shit into his duffle, writes out an apology to Sam, Bobby, and John (it’s a suicide note, but it doesn’t explain anything), and then he ties a military-grade noose. He finds a chair that isn’t completely destroyed by his earlier rage and begins to tie the rope onto the ceiling fan.

He stands there for a moment, contemplating. “Am I really about to do this? I’ve fought monsters and demons and ghosts for twenty years and this is where it ends?”

He shakes his head and shrugs.

“Always knew I'd die before thirty.”

He raises the noose to his head and just as he is about to slide it around his throat… The chair breaks apart, and he's left lying on his back with the wind knocked out of him.

“FUCK!” he manages to yell out before his lungs and chest start burning again. Tears begin to pinprick at his eyes as he lays motionless (and probably concussed, he didn’t break his fall at all). “I can’t even kill myself right.” he thinks to himself.

Slowly, he gets himself off the floor, groaning at the pain in his skull and back as he does. Crawling over to his bed, he sees the glass shard he dropped earlier.

“I just want to stop this fucking FEELING” his mind screams. “Just do SOMETHING you worthless son of a bitch!”

He picks the glass back up.

Everything is hazy when his brain starts to come into focus again. His hands feel slick and wet, so he brings them to his face to see what he touched.

Blood.

His own blood.

Three long gashes across his forearm, roughly a quarter-inch deep and four inches long each. He needs to stitch himself up for sure.

30 minutes later and it just looks like a hunt gone bad, his arm is sewn up and all the motel towels are stained red.

For a fleeting moment, he feels at peace. The rush of discovering what he did in a fog of failing to kill himself and the overwhelming feeling of failing his family, he feels like this was something he deserved. Like he deserved to be punished.

After an hour of dissociating and staring at the wall, he passes out and sinks into a moment of silent nothingness. No nightmares, not yet.

Dean practically jumps out of his skin when he hears Cas’s voice from the doorway.

“Dean? You look pale. What's going on?” Castiel asks with his familiar cadence.

Dean wishes he knew what brought that memory back up. Instead, he plasters on a fake smile and shakes his head reassuringly the best he can.

“Nothing Cas, just thinking I guess. What took you so long? You burn the popcorn or somethin?” Dean knows he sounds insincere, he knows that Cas knows, too. He doesn't want Cas to worry any more than he already does, though.

“Dean, your heart rate sped up and you were on the verge of hyperventilating, what happened?”

Damn it. He should’ve known Cas could still do that weird x-ray angel shit. Instead of trying to hide it further, he sighs and motions for Castiel to sit beside him on the couch.

However, he blanches when Cas passes behind him and brushes his hand against Dean’s shoulder. Cas sits down carefully, not to overwhelm Dean. Castiel has seen him during a flashback before, especially after hell. Cas looks inviting, ready to listen to whatever Dean has to say. Cas was always trying to be open with him lately, Dean knows it’s because of the struggles the last six months.

Cas dying, if briefly. Dean ALMOST dying, because of it.

Wait…

That's when Dean realizes.

Every time he’s lost someone, it's been bad. Drunk passed out on the floor, let Baby be filthy, run into hunts without any concern for his safety, bad…

The two worst times were when he lost Sammy, and when he thought he lost Cas to the Empty.

Dean must’ve been sitting there with a strange look on his face for a while cause Cas reaches out gingerly to silently ask if he’s alright. Dean gives him a half-smile and lets out the breath he was apparently holding.

“Cas, did I ever tell you about what I did in 2004 when Sam was off at Stanford and I was hunting by myself?”

Cas tilts his head in that endearing way he always does, “Not that I recall. Is something from back then troubling you now still?”

Dean clenches his jaw and runs a hand over his mouth, a nervous tic he picked up from John decades ago. “I did something similar back then to what I did in that barn. I gave up.”

Castiel’s eyes widen a bit, starting to understand what Dean is trying to say, but staying silent, to let him get this out.

Dean cracks a wry chuckle, “y’know, when you pulled me outta hell and into my body again, I was surprised you wiped the slate and got rid of all my scars.” He glances at Castiel, just for a moment, to see his reaction. It's soft but a little confused.

“At the time, I thought you would like to come back whole. A fresh start after what you went through in hell. I know now that life is about the imperfections and that the littlest things have meaning and memories. I’m sorry if I took those from you, Dean.” Cas meets Dean’s eyes with apologetic fondness and sincerity.

“Cas, it's okay. Really. Sometimes… I don't know, there's some scars I just miss sometimes.” He runs his hand along his forearm, where the self-harm scars would’ve been. “The ones that were here… they gave me a constant reminder of what almost happened. What I almost did.” Dean can feel his face getting warm as he talks about it, eyes watering up but no tears slip down his face.

Cas seems to nod along, waiting for him to continue with concerned patience. “I tried to kill myself back in ‘04. Sam was gone and doing fine without me, he had Jess. Dad was pissed at me for not getting him to stay and hunt. I had no one. I hit a low point after finding a really fucked up case about a vengeful spirit that gutted a family, father, and two sons…” Dean chokes up, as he pictures the glazed eyes of the corpses he found. A shiver runs down his spine as he can still picture it like it was yesterday.

“You saw your father and Sam in them and it brought up a lot of emotions, that’s understandable.” Cas tries to reassure him but doesn’t quite understand what Dean’s trying to get at.

“I got drunk after I salt and burned the spirit's corpse. I felt empty inside and like nobody needed me. I couldn’t save those kids and I didn't see any point in saving myself…” tears are now flowing gently down Dean’s face as he tries to push out what he needs to say, what he needs Cas to understand about this. “When you, when you said all that stuff before you left… I felt that same exact way. Even though I had Sam and Jack and then the whole bullshit after with Chuck and Lucifer and Michael… I felt so damn alone. Like I’d failed you, cause I couldn’t even save someone I love the most.” Dean’s voice goes harsh as he full-on sobs at those last few words.

The past few months since Castiel has been back, they haven’t talked about Cas's confession before being taken by the Empty, and Dean hasn’t said it aloud (even though his mind is screaming those three words every time he looks at Cas). Dean feels Cas touch his hand gently, reverently. A sob violently racks his body as he looks up into blue eyes also filled with tears.

“I’m so sorry Dean. I’m sorry.” the last word catches in his throat as Dean grabs his hand fully, intertwining their fingers.

“I know Cas. You did it to save me. You seem to keep doing that, huh? From hell, saying yes to Michael, Billie, from myself…” Dean softly strokes his thumb against Cas’s hand while tear tracks continue to stain his face. “Cas, thank you. I know I’ll never be able to pay you back for all that you’ve done for me and for Sam but… thank you.”

They lock eyes for a moment, Dean knows Cas loves him and he knows he loves Cas. He can’t think of a goddamn thing standing in the way right now. Dean releases Cas’s hand, cups his face, and brings their lips together, finally.

It takes a moment for Castiel to understand what's happening, but he quickly catches up and kisses Dean back fervently.

Cas tastes like summer rain after a long drought, like lightning and thunder all at once, like earth and something ethereal Dean can’t quite place. Cas tastes like coming home, and he is.

“Me too, Cas. Son of a bitch, I love you too.” he whispers into Cas’s mouth as Cas lets out a sob-laugh.

They pull apart for a moment, hands still against each other's cheeks. Communicating with their eyes is something they’ve mastered after 12 years, but there's something unknown now. Something new, something hopeful. And dammit if Dean isn't going to latch on to that hope.

They decide on an old western, Dean’s seen it a hundred times before. They’re leaning into each other silently watching as Dean’s eyes begin to close. He can feel Cas running his fingers against his arm, where those scars would’ve been. It's then, in the comfort of his Angel, that Dean falls fast asleep.

For the first time in 40 years, he doesn’t have nightmares. Not of yellow eyes, not of losing Sammy; not of John’s anger, not of hell; the apocalypse, Michael, Chuck, losing Cas… it all feels distant and far behind him now. When Dean wakes again, Cas still has his arms around him, eyes closed, and is running his fingers through Dean’s hair.

Dean knows all his trauma won't just vanish, but in this moment with Cas...it feels possible.

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thursdaygirlgn · 3 years

Note

my friend i am here with the self insert oc sam parallel episode, i have a history exam tomorrow and i refuse to revise in favor of writing this. let me take you on a journey.

this is very self indulgent and spans kind of the entirety of the series (because im nosy and want to be involved in every cool plot) so im not gonna embarrass myself OR bore you but the general gist of the first episode is this:

i am an 18yr old psychic kid raised by a hunter, meeting the boys in s2 through a “my father was also murdered by a ghost of his past”, except he did not immediately assume i am the antichrist while i was an infant and raised me relatively normal, thus demonstrating that john winchester was a fucked up parent because he allowed himself to be.

i am what sam could’ve been and he is once again reminded that all he ever wanted was to be normal and loved and how that was taken away from him, unfairly. he is angry. he is jealous. he feels bad about being jealous because “her dad’s dead, what the fuck,man”. he wants me to be ok, ultimately, ofc he does, but he doesn’t understand why i got it, why he didn’t, why couldn’t john do it. this serves as more material for soul-searching bc i am a firm believer that understanding the circumstances of abuse and neglect and wrapping ur head around them helps lift the guilt we often burden ourselves with: it’s not that if sam had been a better son john would have loved him more, it’s that john refused to look at sam for what sam really was: a child wracked by generational trauma and unprocessed grief, whose autonomy was violated before he could say his first word, in need of love, and chose to instead look at sam through his own grief muddied goggles and link him to mary’s death. insane how this is turning into sam analysis isn’t it.

i am also angry because im still sort of a child but not really, not anymore, im on the cusp of adulthood and going into it knowing that the world is unfair and hateful, grief is written all over me and sam thinks oh nono, because hope’s kind of the whole point isn’t it, and i had it and now it has been taken from me along with my parent and sam feels so alone and furious with everything, he’s plagued by skull cracking demonic visions, and he doesn’t want this idealized version of himself to ultimately end up like the version of himself that he is now, the one he doesn’t understand, the one he’s afraid of. he’s looking in a weird funhouse mirror, sees a kid who was different like he was but was cherished, and sees her end up in the same position he is now: fatherless, on a quest for revenge. he thinks that if we get the monster of the week, ill be better and he’ll find his hope in that. all roads lead to rome but he wont allow this one to reach the colosseum (defying destiny theme, hello).

the monster of the week hunt begins thusly, with sam generally uncomfortable. i confide in him about my psychic abilities and i explain to the brothers that i can help. both are opposed, but i am a chaotic little bitch and get involved anyway. throughout my involvement, sam learns more about the world of psychic mediums and thinks aha! hope! maybe if i dig deep enough (whore for lore amirite babes) ill find someone who’s lived an experience similar to mine! miss oc what are ur book recs for “i think i am psychic and terrified of it” and i say “fear not nerd have a very small cup of coffee and let me tell you about this great college course on divination”. this is relevant because i wanted to see more of sam desperately trying to fit into some sort of community, even a community of supernatural folk john and dean might’ve disapproved of, and finding that, at this point in time, he does not. he’s an outsider to normal people, he’s an outsider to those in contact with the paranormal. really hammer in that freak (affectionate) tagline. (he WILL build a safe haven in the men of letters bunker for all misfits in his adulthood, party city wig sam i do NOT perceive you)

the hunt culminates in an impressive showdown that includes the following: pyrotechnics, a cool spell, seeing things that aren’t really there, the power of friendship and a butter knife thrown like a frisbee. at the end we all look like final girls because im gay so blood is sexy. sam, who has come to regard me like a younger sibling/some sort of manifestation of his inner child, learns what it’s like to be deeply concerned with a youth’s safety and has a heart to heart with dean about how yeah, handling a teenager with incredible amounts of simmering rage and unprocessed grief while being barely equipped for any guardian-like role IS hard, man, is this what it felt like every time i busted out a batshit plan last minute and barely executed it in time to survive??? “yeah. bitch” “jerk.”

the epilogue is as follows: we see sam feeling many complicated things, but he is satisfied for the moment. we have a little heart to heart while laying flowers on my father’s grave. we both look a little worse for wear, but hopeful. “what’re you gonna do now?” “im not sure. college, maybe?” we keep in touch. i go on to art school and make homoerotic art pieces, as is my right. i make guest appearances whenever they need a deus ex machina bs spell to get out of trouble.

maybe in later seasons i go a little ape shit and commit some magical atrocities in the name of the greater good. maybe i get a little antagonized and he gets to offer me the understanding he couldn’t get when he needed it. i see you, sam, treating all misfits in later seasons with kindness, and i offer you a claire-like parallel to be there for through the tough times, thus healing some of your own wounds. everyone deserves an angsty wlw teenager to bond with . (i am only on season 9 of my rewatch and i have not seen seasons 12-15 in their entirety, if he does get one im not disrespecting that character and i love them probably)

the boys hit the road. vienna by billy joel plays, because it makes me feel things.

Slow down you're doing fine

You can't be everything you want to be before your time

Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight

Too bad, but it's the life you lead

You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need

Though you can see when you're wrong

You know you can't always see when you're right

You got your passion, you got your pride

But don't you know that only fools are satisfied?

Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?

end scene.

this is poetry. i will cherish this forever thank you for sharing with me and good luck on your exam

#all roads lead to rome but he won’t let this once reach the colosseum....#clown posting #asks #sammy #i guess lol #sammy tag is needed for the sam analysis

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katybaby00 · 4 years

Text

Life as I knew it

Pairings: Young!Dean x reader (underage), Dean x reader (tiny) age gap, season 3 Dean.

Warnings: NSFW, (MoC), tiny bit of angst of you squint, definite slow burn, slight dub-con, smut, that’s it. 18+ there is the sex!

Authors note: alright! So before you read you must know that this is my first story I’m ever posting. So yes this is an original piece! I’ve wrote before when I was like 13-14 but that’s just... scary to think about. So!! My inbox and page are always open for your requests and criticism as well. Also everything in italics are flash backs! Enjoy my loves!

Word count: 5,176

(GIF is not mine)

You knew it was wrong. You knew that working woth the Winchester’s was a bad idea.

Your father, Clint, was a wonderful man. Sweet, kind, honest, and trustworthy. He had grown up with John Winchester. They were inseparable, "attached at the hip" as my mother, Grace, used to say. My mother and I had always stayed home when my father went on "business trips". That's how I had grown up with Dean, him being only 5 years older than me. My mother and I were always over at John and Mary's home. My mom and Mary became close friends. Mary and her would talk about where my dad was when John was busy with us kids, not wanting him to know of his "job". Dean and I became very close very fast. Him and those damn green eyes. I developed a very large crush on the boy at a very young age. I guess it just never went away. John had no clue about the hunting life until the night Mary died. He started hunting and dragging his boys along with him.

Naturally Sam and Dean spent a lot of time around my family. It was mainly the boys and my mother and I, because John would almost always convince my father to go with him. When I turned 11, my father died. He was in a car accident involving a drunk driver. We always thought he would go out hunting. My mother died at the hands of a demon when I was 15. I have been on my own ever since.

~Present~

Another town. Another demon. Another case. Time just seemed to blur by. Drinking, fucking, and hunting. Rinse and repeat. Nothing special. Being 25 now, I knew I wasn't going to settle down and have the "apple pie life".

Quietly my phone started buzzing on the bathroom counter, Bobby Singer, "What the hell could he want at this hour?" I thought out loud. "Hey Bobby, how have you been?" I said while spitting my toothpaste into the sink. "Hey Y/N, I was wondering if you have heard from Sam or Dean?" "No Bobby, Dean is an ass who left me on my porch crying, and Sam is too tall for his own good, so it's been a couple years since I have seen or heard of them. Why?" Bobby sighs on the other end, "I was afraid of that, they got into some trouble down in Mississippi, haven't returned my million phone calls. Was wondering if maybe you could pop on down and check on them?" I could hear the silent pleading in his tone. I know this is going to be a bad idea. "Yeah, I guess i can. Anything for you Bobby. I'll call if things get too out of control." He laughs happily, "Okay Y/N, thank you, I owe you one." "Damn right you do Singer. Now, what town?" "They are in Ocean Springs, at the Siegel Select Gautier motel, right off Route 90. That's the last I heard. Room 19. Let me know what you find." You write down the address on an old piece of paper from the motel. "Thanks Bobby."

As you head out on your quest to save these fucking Winchesters, you turn up the radio and blast some boy band that's got you hooked. Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. Dean Winchester... "Son of a bitch!" Picking up the phone you put it to your ear, "Y/N, I need your help, it's Sam." You scoff into the phone, "I swear to god Dean! You always think you need me to help clean up your mess! Ever since we were fucking kids! But since it's Sam... I guess I have no choice. Right?" Dean is hesitant at first and then he finally breathes, "Y/N, I'm sorry for all of the things that have happened in the past. I'm not the same person I was back then and I am so fucking sorry for everything," He takes a deep breathe, "please help me?" Taking a deep breathe, you sigh, "Dean I'm on my way now. Bobby called me and said you probably would need my help. So I packed my shit and I'm on my way. Don't get mushy and shit about it." Dean chuckles into the speaker. "Okay. You know I don't do that chick-flick bullshit. I'll see you when you get here. Bye Y/N." You pause, "Bye dean," He hung up the phone, "I love you...".

Pulling into the motel in this shit-hole town, you see the Impala in all her glory parked in front of room 19. Parking right next to the beautiful car. Getting out of your shit-box truck Bobby had given you for your 16th birthday. You patted the top of baby, "Hey sweetheart. You look good." You said as you walked past the car.

Tomorrow is your 18th birthday. Ever since your family died and you were left alone you never really celebrated. That was until this year. You were sitting on the front porch listening to the summer breeze wrestle the trees when you heard the sound of a familiar engine rolling up your driveway. As usual, Dean was behind the wheel and Sam in the front seat. They looked older. Dean looked very… mature. Sam is still the tall and goofy giant he has always been. I have missed them. Mainly Dean.

Stepping out of the car Dean grabs you in a big hug lifting you off the ground. You breathe him in and your stomach clenches. Whiskey, gunpowder, and leather. “I missed you D.” He chuckled deeply and you felt the rumble in your chest, “I missed you too sweetheart.” The nickname makes your cheeks heat up. He put you down and Sam wrapped you in a hug and you both said you missed each other. “What are you guys doing here?” Following them to the trunk. “We wouldn’t miss your 18th birthday for the world Y/N, and besides, you’ve always made the best pie.” That made Sam let out a chuckle. “You guys really didn’t have to come, it wouldn’t be the first birthday I've spent alone.” Trailing off you started walking to the house. Sam stops in front of you, “Y/N, we know how hard it is spending birthdays, christmases, and thanksgivings alone. This is a big birthday for you and we wanted you to have a good one. So that's why we are here.” He looks at you sincerely. Dean comes up next to you, and puts his hands on your shoulders, slightly rubbing, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Thanks guys. I appreciate it.” Smiling genuinely.

Once inside and the boys being settled into their spare rooms. You grab your mother's old cook book and get to work on one of the boys favorite to have when they used to come over. Sam comes to stand in the doorway leaning against the frame, “Hey, you need some help?” You turn around and look at him, “As long as you don’t get in my way Winchester, you can chop some tomatoes.” “Sounds like a plan boss.” He says while he shoots you a wink. Sam has never made you uncomfortable. Being almost the same age you guys had always been best friends. That is one thing that has never changed, and hopefully never will.

Finishing up dinner you call for Dean to come eat but he doesn’t respond. That’s odd, you thought. “I’m going to get Dean, I’ll be right back.” Walking up the stairs you go past your room and then Sam’s. As you get to Dean’s door and are about to knock you hear grunting on the other side. Taking a few steps back and then putting your ear to the door you hear Dean breathing heavily. Grunts and moans coming from his mouth. “Oh… fuck… Y/N.” You take a couple steps back from the door. Never in a million years would you think that Dean fucking Winchester would be interested in you. Knowing EXACTLY what he is doing in there. You knock. “Shit, h-hold on. One second.” “Hey D, dinner is ready.” Dean slaps his hand on his thigh, probably hoping you didn’t hear what he had just been doing. “Yeah, okay, I’ll be down in just a second.”

Sitting at the dinner table you try not to stare a hole through Dean. wondering that maybe you probably just imagined the whole thing. ‘Damn you are really going to have to get a hold of this crush Y/N’ which you thought you had said in your head but apparently the whole table had heard. “What was that Y/N?” You’re in shock. You don’t know what to say, “O-oh n-nothing, just thinking.” Sam leans over and puts his hand on yours. “Whatever it is, you can tell us, we are practically your big brothers.” He said with a chuckle. Well damn Sam way to punch me in the gut like that. Dean sits at the end of the table nursing his beer. “Do you guys want dessert? I made pie.” Dean immediately perks up. “Hell yeah we want pie. Are you kidding?” Getting up to grab the pie off the counter, you can feel someone staring holes into the back of your head. ‘I wonder who that could be‘. Turning around you catch Dean's eyes staring right at your ass. “You know what. You boys enjoy your pie. I’m going to go shower and get in bed. It's been a long day.” You gave Sam a goodnight kiss on the forehead and patted Dean's shoulder.

After showering and putting on some cozy pajamas you walk back to your room and find that your bed is not so empty. “Dean?” He jumps when he hears you. “What are you doing… in my bed?” He stares at you and walks towards you. He wraps you into a big hug and kisses the top of your head. “I just wanted to be the first one to tell you Happy Birthday.” Looking over at the clock on your nightstand you realize it’s 12:02, “Oh D, thank you.” “You should get some sleep sweetheart. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Goodnight Y/N.” You squeeze him back. “Goodnight D.”

You awoke the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee, bacon, eggs, toast, and pancakes. Wondering who was cooking that amazing food in your kitchen. Turning into the kitchen your eyes go wide at the freshly squeezed orange juice, fresh cut strawberries, pineapple, kiwi, and cantaloupe. Taking a strawberry off the table you take a bite and look at everything else. “Oh! Good morning Y/N, how did you sleep?” Sam came into the kitchen wearing his grey sleep pants and a white cotton shirt. “Happy birthday Y/N. I see Dean has out done himself this morning.” “Yeah, you’re definitely not wrong. Speaking of Dean. Where is he?” Just as you said that he comes into the kitchen in plaid pajama pants, black T-shirt, and a kiss the cook apron. “Good morning sleepy heads!” He bellowed in excitement. “D, did you do all of this by yourself?” He grabs you in a side hug and squeezes a little. “I sure did. It’s your 18th birthday. You deserve nothing but the best sweetheart. Now sit and eat. We've got plans today.” You sit in your usual spot, grabbing eggs, bacon, and pancakes topped with strawberries. You dug in and caught Dean stealing quick little glances at you while you shovel your face full of the delicious food. Sam is looking between the two of you, almost knowingly. “So guys, what’s the plan for today? I need to know so I can either wear shorts or a dress.” Dean chokes a little on his eggs and washes it down with a gulp of coffee. “Sorry about that,” He chuckles, “we have decided that you’re going to go hunting with us. Simple salt and burn. For your birthday.” Tears welled into your eyes. You sniffed because you always thought your father would have taken you. But now you’re sitting here with the Winchester’s, they tell you that you’re going hunting for your birthday. Your mind was trying to wrap around it. “I would love that so much!” You jumped up wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck and he pulled you into his lap. Making your cheeks heat up. You kissed his cheek and walked over to Sam wrapping your arms around him too. “Well come on guys let’s go!” “Woah, hold on there Y/N. we have to get all of our bags and things packed. I need to make sure baby is in tip top shape before we just hop on the road. So Sam is taking you into town to get you some boots and some pants and other things that you might need.” You chuckle and walk to the hallway closet, open the door, and flip on the light, “Dean, trust me. I am more than prepared for this occasion.” He walks up to the closet that is covered with warding symbols and sigils of all kinds. Guns, knives, lore books, and holy water line the shelves neatly. Your dad’s journal at the very top. “You did all this yourself?” You nod. “Well I’m impressed. Right Sammy?” Sam clears his throat and walks over to the closet where you and Dean are standing. “This is most definitely impressive.”

Walking up to room 19 you sigh before you knock knowing who is on the other side. Knock. Knock. The door swings open before you have time to even get a word out, you are wrapped in a rib crushing hug. “Oh my god! Dean. let me go. I can’t,” gasping for air he loosened his grip. “Breathe. I missed you too.” Saying those words felt like a kick to the chest. You knew he didn’t feel the same way you always have. Maybe when you were younger. But definitely not now. “Alright. Let’s get down to business so I can get out of here.” setting your bag down on one of the dusty motel beds. Dean frowns. Not knowing what to think. “Why do you say that? Haven’t missed me?” You chuckle turning to look at him, “Dean. You can’t be serious? It’s been 7 years, you have obviously already forgotten. So I won’t bring it up again. We can talk about it when you remember how you left.”

He just stares at you. He walks over to the fridge, grabs a beer and tosses you one too. “Alright,” he began, “Sam fell into hell, h-” You choke on your beer and spit it onto the floor. Interrupting him. “He WHAT?!”, Dean fucking Winchester. You better be pulling my fucking leg because if you aren’t I swear to god I will shoot you.” Dean stares at you with wide eyes. Thinking of his response carefully. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. “He fell into hell. More like Adam dragged him down with him. He slipped and now he’s down there. I have been up day and night thinking of what I can do to try and save him. He told me to go and have a normal life, go find Lisa and Ben. But, I can’t give up on my baby brother like that. He didn’t give up on me when I was in hell.” You walk over to him. “Don’t you think you should at least try to have a normal life? For Sam?” He looks at you, tears in his eyes. You’ve never seen this man cry. “I want him back. I don’t want to just give up like that.” “Dean if he told you he wanted you to try and have that life. Then I think you should at least give it the old college try. Go find Lisa and Ben.” He stands, turns to you and pulls you into another hug. “I don’t want Lisa or Ben, I want you.”

When you arrived in some small town in Texas you stepped out to stretch your legs. “You guys hungry? We could get pizza?” Your mouth starts salivating at the thought of a greasy piece of pizza. “That sounds really good.” “You guys can get a pizza, but make sure you grab me a salad too.” Sam says. You laugh at the green giant. Following Sam and Dean into the motel room you see that there are only 2 queen beds. “Rock, paper, scissors for who gets the beds. Whoever loses takes the floor.” Dean looks at Sam with question all in his eyes, “How about the losers have to share a bed?” Sam deadpans. You roll your eyes and stick your hands up, ready to win. In the end Sam won and you and Dean ended up sleeping together.

Later that night while you were about to hop in bed you see Dean put a pillow next to him in the middle of the bed. “Wow Dean. I don’t have cooties you jerk.” “Oh, no, sorry. It’ll just be… safer this way.” You’re definitely confused but you just shrug and climb into the scratchy sheets. Back pressed against the pillow and you can hear Deans breathing start to even out. You slowly sit up to see that he’s asleep and you let the silent tear roll down your cheek.

In the morning you stir awake but only to find that Dean had thrown the pillow to the floor and is down cuddling you. You can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest and his breath fan across your neck leaving goosebumps in its wake. You try to move. To untangle yourself from his hold. To no avail of course, everytime you would try and get away he would just pull you closer. Not realizing until he pressed his hips to your ass. He was hard as a rock. You let a slight whine fall from your lips which must have woke him up because as soon as it happened his whole body went stiff pushing away from you. “Y/n, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You jerk away from his grasp. “Thanks for making me feel better Dean!” Slamming the bathroom door you sit down and cry into your hands. ‘How could he not see it. How could he just push me away. I’m 18. I’m not a child anymore. I haven’t been since my parents died.’ You get up off of the floor and open the bathroom door to see Sam gone, and Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his hair. “I’m going to take a shower, or do I need your permission since you think I’m still a child.” You say as you walk over to your bag on your side of the bed. “Y/n, I never said I thought you were a child. I’m sorry about cuddling you this morning. But I can’t do that to you. You just turned 18 yesterday. I would be taking advantage of you.” “Wow Dean. You know you would think that all the experience you have with women you would know when one was interested in you. I know that I just turned 18 Dean. But guess what? I don’t care if you’re older than me. You could be 10 years older than me and I wouldn’t care. But seeing you literally push me away this morning gives me my answer.” Grabbing your clothes out of your bag you walk into the bathroom slamming the door before Dean could say another word. When you come out dressed and ready to go Sam is back and greets you before walking into the bathroom. “I’m going to grab coffee. Need anything?” Dean just shakes his head. You scoff and walk out.

While in the car with the boys you in the backseat Sam and Dean are discussing the plan for tonight. ‘Simple salt and burn Y/n. Simple salt and burn.’ Trying not to psych yourself out. ‘Everything is going to be fine. It’s all going to be okay. Easy peasy…’ “Y/n,” Sam starts. “I know the first hunt can be a little scary but trust me if you’re anything like your dad you will be just fine.” Giving Sam a genuine smile you look in the rearview mirror to see Dean staring at you. “I’m really glad you guys decided to take me hunting for my birthday. I know how hard the decision must have been.” “Why do you say that?” Well, maybe because Dean thinks I’m still a child and the only reason I felt anything for him is because I have always been alone, you thought to yourself. “Because you both,” adding emphasis on the word both just for Dean, “see me as a little sister, and you would hate for something to happen to me just as bad as I would hate for something to happen to you.” Sam gives you a side smile and Dean just lowers his head and sighs.

It was simple enough. You did just fine. Even Dean was surprised that you handled it so well. You did great research and handled your own. Dean climbs into the driver seat and Sam slides into the passenger side. “Alright Y/n, congrats on your first kill. Now how about some juicy burgers and a beer to celebrate?” Sam looks back at me and smiles. “I’m totally in! Can we try that bar I saw on the way into town?” “Of course we can, birthday girl.” “Dean, my birthday was yesterday.” You deadpanned. Making Sam raise an eyebrow. “Everything, okay with you guys?” “Fine.” You both say. “Hey D? I still have one more thing I would like to do for my birthday.” “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“Y/n, you can not drive my baby this fast you’re going to wreck! Do you even have your license?” You laugh speeding along down some backroad Dean had pulled off on so you could drive. “Of course I do D.” You lied. “Okay. That's enough. Pull over so I can drive. You’re done driving for the rest of your life.” Pulling over you jump out of the driver seat and give Dean a giant hug. “Thank you so much. I have always wanted to drive your car. Since I was little.” “You’re welcome sweetheart.” That damn name. Sam gave you a hug too, He whispers in your ear. “You know you’re lucky right? Dean doesn’t even let me drive his car. Unless absolutely necessary.” That makes your body heat up, you had no idea that even Sam hardly ever got to drive Dean's car. Later the next day you had finally made it home collapsing on the couch and breathing in the scent of your home. “Are you guys going to stay another night or head back out?” Dean is standing in the doorway talking to Sam. As you turn the corner you see them standing there. A hurt look on Sam’s face. “Bye Y/n. I’m really glad that I got to see you and spend time with you on your birthday. I’ll see you around.” You gave Sam a goodbye hug and turned to Dean. “I’m really glad that you guys came and spent time with me. It really means a lot. I know that you have to go and save more lives. So i will see you and Sam around sometime.” Turning to go back into your house Dean grabs you by your upper arm and spins you right into a bruising kiss. His mouth melts against your own. It ends too soon. “Y/n, I love you. But I can’t drag you into this life.” He turns and walks down the steps, down the sidewalk and into the impala. “Dean wait! Please wait! You can’t leave like that!” You fall onto the ground and watch through blurry eyes the impalas taillights fade out of your view.

“Dean. I thought that you didn’t want me? You said you loved me but I thought you meant as a sister. I thought that’s why you told me you didn’t want to drag me into this life. Was because I was like a little sister. Not that you actually loved me.” Dean took a deep breath and grabbed you tighter. “Y/n I love you so much. I always have. That’s what I was going to tell you that night I was waiting for you on your bed. But I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did so I pushed you away. Please don’t hate me for waiting this long to tell you. I was just scared that you would reject me. I-I’m so-.” You crashed your lips to his and pulled his face closer to yours. “Dean Winchester. I have loved you since I was 13. Don’t you ever push me away again.” “I promise Y/n I won’t. Never again. I love you so much. I want to have the apple pie life with you. I don’t want anyone else but you.” “Okay D.”

The kiss continued to deepen as he made his way down to your neck and then your collarbone. He ripped his leather jacket off and then yours. Hands reaching the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. Only breaking the kiss for a few seconds before fisting your hands in his hair and bringing him closer if that was even possible. He broke the kiss and took his shirt off and your hands clung to his biceps and shoulders and chest trying to get a feel of his god like form. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you apart. “Y/n please tell me that you want this and it’s not just me. I want you and I want all of you.” Breathing heavily you grab at the back of his neck and pull his face close enough to feel the heat from his body, “Dean Winchester, if you don’t fuck me like you mean it I’m going to shoot you in the leg.” At that, Dean kisses you and you jump up to wrap your legs around his waist. He grabs at your ass and thighs desperate for any type of friction. His cock is pressed right up against your clit causing just enough friction to make you whine. He grunts in response and tosses you onto the bed and climbs over you. “God Y/n you’re so damn beautiful. Can’t wait to taste you.” You sigh in response and he goes to work. Tugging your shorts and panties down your legs in one swift motion. He climbs up your body and unclasps your bra, tossing it to the floor. Fully naked and exposed underneath him. He groans and runs his hand down your body. From your lips, to your neck, down to your nipples, to your stomach, and finally down to your aching pussy. “God you’re so wet. This all for me?” “God, yes Dean please. I need you.” “Already begging sweetheart? I thought you were stronger than that.” He sinks two thick fingers into you and you clench. He starts slowly thrusting and curling his fingers right into your sweet spot, kissing down your neck and along your collarbone. “Dean.. I.. ah!” You came clenching around his thick fingers. “Fuck Y/n. I need to be inside of you.” He lines up with your entrance and inch by glorious inch he sinks into you. Stretching deliciously along your folds. Bottoming our he lets out a low groan and falls to his elbows next to your head. He’s deeper than you thought possible. “Fuck baby. You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, so tight.” “Dean. Please move!” He slowly drags out of you almost all the way before he snaps his hips forward and and scream leaves your lips. He sets a bruising pace. Your pussy clenching tight around him. You can feel your stomach heat up and the coil tightening. Threatening to snap any minute. He’s so fucking deep. His breathes are coming out ragged and sharp. “Y/n I don’t know how long I can last with you squeezing me like that.” He groans out. Know one has ever been able to fuck you like this. Your orgasm hits you like a cement truck you clench around him, white spots flooding your vision. Not soon after his hips falter and he’s cumming deep inside you. His moans in your ear are the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. He rolls off of you and pulls you into his side and falls asleep.

The next morning you wake up blushing from the events that had occurred the night before. Turning over trying not to wake Dean. You roll out of bed and take a shower. The hot water runs over your aching muscles from last night's previous activities. You take a deep breath. ‘What if he doesn’t feel the same?’

Coming out of the bathroom the steam follows and you see the groggy man in your bed stirring. “Good morning D. Did I wake you up?” “No sweetheart, I just got up. What time is it?” He rolls over and checks his burner phone and groans. “It’s only 9:30. Man I was hoping it was later.” You smile and climb into the bed and snuggle up next to him. “D?” “Yeah Y/n?” “What are we going to do about Sam?” “He told me he’s always wanted me to have a normal life. So I think that I should do just that… with you. Because, you see, baby, I love you I have since we were kids. I thought that since I was older and you were a little younger than me that you would have a thing for Sammy. But you didn’t. It was me all along and I didn’t realize that until your 18th birthday. I’m sorry Y/n. I’ll never leave you again. I promise.” You cuddle up closer to him and pull him tight. “I love you too Dean. Always have. Always will. No matter what, and if a normal like is what you want then a normal life is what you’ll get. I promise.” Dean rolls over and kisses your cheek and scoots closer to you. Grabbing your hip and pulling you closer to him. “I know I’m not one for the mushy moments right?” You sigh and nuzzle into his chest. “Yes Dean. I do. I haven’t been since my parents. I never thought I would love anything ever again. Not until you came along. You waltz in on my 18th birthday and suddenly all of those winks, nicknames, and lingering looks made sense.” Dean just pulls you closer. “Of course they made sense Y/n. I never thought it would work until you practically slapped me with your words. But it worked, and I ain’t ever letting you go.”

Tags::

#dean x reader #supernatural #deanwinchester #spnsmut #supernaturalsmut #smut #dean smut #young dean winchester #spn season 3 #smutty

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years

Text

The Girl Next Door (Part 5) - Date Night

Summary: Dean and the reader have their first date...

The Girl Next Door Masterlist

Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader

Word Count: 3,300ish

Warnings: language, medical emergency

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

Dean POV

“Where are we going?” asked Sam for the hundredth time the next morning. Dean only shrugged as he drove, Sam rolling his eyes again. “Dean.”

“Would you relax before you have an aneurysm over there,” said Dean, smiling to himself.

“Funny,” said Sam.

“Oh, come on, it was a little funny,” said Dean. “We’re almost there. Ten more minutes at most.”

It only took five for Sam to see the sign to the state park and Dean to drive in. Sam raised an eyebrow when Dean found a parking spot and hopped out, grabbing the cooler and a couple of chairs from the back seat. Dean plopped them down in the grass by the lake edge, Sam walking over and taking a seat while Dean cracked open a few sodas.

“I remember this,” said Sam as he took his root beer. “Our first ‘brothers’ vacation.”

“Yup. We went swimming, ate some burgers and you got your first kiss from that girl in the red bikini at the beach over there,” said Dean.

“Yeah, I remember,” said Sam, chuckling to himself. “Time flies.”

“That it does,” said Dean, both boys quiet for a few minutes. “Mom and dad are gonna swing by tomorrow night for a few hours if that’s cool.”

“Excited for your date with Y/N?” asked Sam.

“It’s really not a date, Sammy. We’re just hanging out,” said Dean, sipping on his drink. “We’re friends.”

“You talk to her every single day and I see you smiling at your phone when you text her at night. It’s a date, dude,” said Sam.

“We’re just friends,” said Dean, taking another sip, pursing his lips.

“Dean.”

“Fine, it’s a date. Now shut up about her. I like her. I said it. Moving on,” said Dean.

“Alright, alright,” said Sam, a smile on his face. “But you’re gonna tell me how your first date goes tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright, Sammy.”

“Hey,” said Dean the next night, walking downstairs in a light blue button down shirt with rolled up sleeves and khaki shorts. “Is this...okay?”

“Yeah, it’s good,” said Sam with a smile. “Bring over that bottle of wine that’s been sitting in the back of the fridge forever. Y/N seems like a wine girl.”

“Good idea,” said Dean, Avy popping her head over the back of the couch.

“Do you have a date Uncle Dean?” she asked.

“Mhm. I’ll be right next door at Y/N’s if you need anything,” he said. “Grandma and Grandpa will be over real soon.”

“Sooner than you think,” said John, opening up the screen door. “You guys hungry?”

“Starving,” said Avy, John chuckling as Mary came in and gave Dean a hug and then Sam as he got to his feet.

“Look at you all cleaned up. You got a date or something?” asked John. Dean shrugged.

“Just...plans,” said Dean.

“Hey, Dean’s here 24/7 most of the time. Let him have a night off for him,” said Sam, turning to his brother. “Hey and don’t come home until late, okay?”

“Yeah,” said Dean, taking the wine from the kitchen and slipping on his shoes. “See you guys later.”

Reader POV

You had finished with the cake for Dean not too long ago when the doorbell rang. You smoothed out one of your summer dresses, still hoping it wasn’t too much. You were pretty sure after all the flirting the past week that it was an actual date and all but you didn’t want to assume anything.

“Hey,” said Dean with a big smile when you opened the door.

Oh. He put on a dress shirt. And nice shorts. And brought wine.

This was so a date.

“Hi,” you said, Dean stepping inside, handing over the bottle. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “You know, I actually haven’t been in your house yet.”

“Well come on in then. Bathroom is right around the corner,” you said, pointing at the door past the stairs. Dean hummed as he followed you to the kitchen, pausing when he saw it.

“Wow. This island is huge,” he said, walking around, spotting the cake sitting in the center. “Red velvet bourbon cake?”

“Yup. I figured I’d call and order that pizza?” you asked. He nodded and wandered around a bit more. You went out to the family room, returning after a minute to tell him it’d be there in about twenty minutes. He was standing in front of your chalkboard, pointing at a scribble you’d written down.

“S.W. business talk?” asked Dean.

“Sam mentioned possibly helping out. I said I’d think about it,” you said, Dean’s gaze stopping on your dessert binder. “Take a look. I got all my offerings in there, including seasonal.”

“I bet you make some awesome sugar cookies,” he said.

“Guilty as charged,” you said. “I got fourth of July coming up in a few weeks. I can whip up a batch of ‘em for ya. I make them look like little flags.”

“I’m going to get so fat living next to you,” he said with a laugh.

“Number one rule of being a baker. Don’t eat the product,” you said. “Too much.”

“I don’t have that kind of will power,” he teased, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Should we let this breathe?”

“Oh. You a wine expert?” you asked, going to the drawer and pulling out a corkscrew for him.

“IPA guy more myself but I like a glass on occasion. I know, shocking considering the high caliber job I have,” he said.

“Eh, stuck up snobs are overrated,” you said, smirking at him. Dean returned it, pouring the two of you a few glasses after a minute. He slid one over when you hopped on top of the counter and crossed your legs.

“To Sam’s recovery,” you said, holding yours out.

“To Sammy’s recovery,” said Dean, clinking his glass to yours. You both took a sip, nearly gagging at the taste. “The fuck?”

“What is this?” you said with a wince. “Shit, that’s gross.”

“I don’t know. It’s not good,” said Dean.

“It tastes like spoiled garbage,” you said, shaking your head. “I got a six pack in the fridge and leftover bourbon from the cake in the cupboard.”

“Now that’s my kind of date.”

“So, Dean Winchester,” you said, leaning forward in your seat. You were two and half slices of pieces of pizza, part of a piece of cake and two beers in. To say you never in a million years had felt more relaxed on a first date would have been an understatement.

“So, Y/N Y/L/N,” said Dean, smiling as he rested his chin in his hand, leaning across the kitchen counter.

“How the hell are you single?” you asked.

“I don’t know. Am I single?” he teased.

“Well…” you said with a smirk, Dean biting his bottom lip. Your doorbell just had to ring and you sighed, a fist pounding on it quickly. Dean moved around, holding out an arm for you to stay back as he went over.

“Dean!” you heard through the door. He pulled it open to see a woman standing there.

“Mom? What’s-”

“Y/N, your friend. She’s a doctor right?” she said, locking eyes with you.

“What’s wrong?” you said, brushing past Dean.

“Something’s wrong with Avy,” she said. You were out the door like that, not even bothering with your shoes, Dean pulling it shut as you jogged across the yard and inside Sam’s. Sam was sat on the floor in Avy’s room next to her bed, an older man on the phone with 911 you assumed.

“What happened?” you asked, feeling for her pulse, finding it steady but too fast. Avy looked tired and like she was having a little bit of trouble breathing.

“I don’t know. She was upstairs playing with dad when he said she just couldn’t take a full breath anymore,” said Sam. You looked at their father, the guy holding up his hands.

“Alright. What did she eat for dinner? Anything new or different?” you asked, checking her breathing, a bit shallower than it should have been. “Tell them I think it’s anaphylactic shock.”

“What?” said their dad.

“Allergic reaction if I had to guess, probably food based. Sam, what did she eat?” you asked.

“Nothing. We had pizza,” said Sam. “Supreme from-”

“Has she ever eaten mushrooms before?” you asked. “That comes on supreme pizzas. She’s little so she may not have eaten that before.”

“I don’t...I don’t think she has,” he said.

“Alright. That’s probably it. They’ll test her to be sure. Ask them how long before they get here,” you said, Avy sucking in a shallow breath. “Shit. How long?”

“Fifteen minutes,” said their dad.

“Fucking hick town,” you grumbled as you stood up and looked back at Dean. “Dean, carry her. Put her in a car and speed to the hospital, now. I don’t care how fast. Go. Now.”

He didn’t wait for Sam to even get to his feet before he was out the door with her.

“What…” said Sam, staring at you with big eyes. “What-”

“She’ll be okay but we don’t want to wait around fifteen minutes. I bet Dean can get her there in five,” you said. Sam went to move out the door but you grabbed his arm and sat him down on the bed. “I know that’s your daughter but you need to calm down for a moment, take a breath and then all four of us will get in the car and go to the hospital.”

“But-”

“Sam,” you said, putting your hands on his head gently. “Dean’s got her. She’s safe. We need you to be safe too. Adrenaline and your medicine you’re on are not a good combo. I want you calm before we move you. I want you to count with me, alright?”

“One,” he let out, looking to his parents when you shook your head.

“Just me, Sammy,” you said, a funny look in his eye. “Sam.”

“You can call me that,” he said quietly, closing his eyes. “Two.”

“Good job. Three,” you said.

“Three. Four,” he said, body relaxing a little.

“Keep going, Sam. Nice and even like that,” you said.

A few minutes later when he was calmer, you went downstairs with all three of them.

“Hey,” said Dean, calling his mom a minute later as you were just driving down the street. “Avy’s okay. They stuck one of those allergy pen things in her leg. She’s a lot better now, breathing just fine.”

Sam untensed for the most part but you knew you better get him over to the hospital to see her as fast as possible.

“Hey,” said Dean, wandering over to a set of chairs you were waiting in.

“How’s she doing?” you asked as you stood up, bare feet cold against the tile floor.

“She’s fine. Bad mushroom allergy apparently but they’ll give her an epipen to carry around. Doc said we made the right call in not waiting around. It could have been a lot worse,” said Dean.

“Sorry to start barking orders like that at everyone,” you said.

“Hey. My niece is going to be just fine because of that. Sam too. The Winchesters are pretty glad to have you around,” he said.

“Maybe I’m just your bad luck,” you said, glancing down.

“I don’t believe that,” he said. You smiled when you looked up, a doctor walking down the hall giving you one.

“Ah, Y/N. You’re in with the girl with the anaphylactic shock?” he said. “Should have known you’d be the one to tell the paramedics to screw themselves.”

“I was always impatient, Dr. Bradley,” you said, looking to Dean. “This is Dean, Avy’s uncle. I live next door to their family. Dean, this is one of my old residents. I didn’t know you moved out here.”

“Oh, I was sick of the city. This one would have made one hell of a doctor. But her cookies are very good too,” he said, his pager going off. “Good seeing you, Y/N.”

“You too,” you said, giving Dean a smile when he left. “You want to finish our date tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I almost had myself a girlfriend there for a minute.”

You blinked up at him and give him a sweet kiss, Dean looking surprised when you moved back. He leaned in and gave you one of his own, pulling away with a bashful look.

“Can I drive you home?” he asked.

“Yeah. You can drive me home, Dean.”

You woke up the next day with a stretch and a smile. Sitting in bed you scratched the back of your head. In a way, last night had been a disaster. Avy was thankfully fine though, happily eating a bowl of mushroom free ice cream when you’d said goodbye to her at the hospital.

On the other hand, you liked Dean. You felt at ease around him, relaxed. He was far too handsome for his own good, not to mention how devoted to his family he was, putting his own life on pause to take care of his brother.

You liked Dean Winchester.

You shut your eyes, that sense of dread returning to you that’d been shoved away the past few weeks. You tilted your head and sighed, flashing open your eyes when you heard the stairs creak. You glanced to the open door, blinking a few times when a body came into view.

“Jack,” you said dryly.

“Sis,” he said, giving you a nod. “Nice place. I like it better than that city apartment. Nice neighborhood too.”

“How are you here?” you asked.

“It’s called a day pass,” he said. “They do let me out of the nut house on occasion you know.”

“I just...what are you doing here? And how’d you get in? Or know where I live?”

“I came to visit, the spare key was under the rock in the front and google,” he said. “Anymore stupid questions?”

You rolled your eyes and got out of bed, grabbing your robe and tossing it on before you brushed past him and downstairs.

“Nice to see you too,” he said. You heard him follow after you and into the kitchen. You made yourself a cup of coffee, Jack looking around. “Bakery business good?”

“Yup,” you said.

“Still not going back to med school?”

“Nope.”

You glared at him over the rim of the mug, Jack’s smile falling away.

“What do you want, Jack?” you asked.

“My share,” he said.

“Until a doctor tells me you’re mentally fit-”

“If I wasn’t mentally fit, they wouldn’t give me a day pass,” he said.

“Mentally fit people don’t break into other people’s homes,” you said. “And it’s my decision when it happens so back off.”

“Oh, I didn’t break in. Just give it to me, sis and then I’ll leave you alone forever,” he said. “I need it.”

“Why? So you can get into all kinds of trouble and wind up dead in a ditch? No thanks,” you said. He glared at you, narrowing his eyes.

“Did you spend it? My share?” he asked.

“I didn’t fucking spend it. You know that. You’re not in a state of mind to-”

“I’m not nuts,” he growled, biting his bottom lip.

“Hey,” you heard through the front screen door. You sighed from the kitchen and saw Dean step in, glancing down the hall to you and Jack. “Everything alright in here?”

“What are you? Nosey neighbor? Get lost,” said Jack.

“Leave, Jack, or I call...them, and tell them about this. Come in my house again without permission and it’s the cops next time,” you said.

“Why would I think you even cared,” he mumbled. You stared at him until he spun around and went past Dean, bumping him on the way out. You shut your eyes, Dean stepping inside and back into the kitchen.

“Everything alright over here? I saw your front door open and then heard some arguing…” said Dean.

“Let’s just say I don’t have the relationship with my older brother that you and Sam do,” you said. You sat down at the counter, twirling your coffee around in the mug. “It’s fine.”

“Alright. If it’s ever not...you can talk to me about it,” he said. You nodded, Dean tapping a finger on the counter. You lifted your chin, Dean giving you a half smile.

“He’s not dangerous,” you said. “Just...you can understand wanting to help your brother but knowing it’s out of your hands.”

“Yes, I do,” he said with a smile, turning to go. “Sorry for barging in like that.”

“No, it’s okay. Do you want to stay for coffee?” you asked. “If you got time?”

“Sure. My parents are over Sammy’s,” he said, sliding onto a barstool. “Us four talked this morning. They’re going to stay over on the weekends for the next little while to help out.”

“Good. You deserve a break from it all,” you said, rubbing a hand up and down his back as you went past.

“I don’t do anything special,” he said quietly.

“Yeah you do,” you said.

“You’re very kind to me,” he said softly. “Genuinely. That’s...nice.”

“Being mean is too much energy,” you said, working on another cup of coffee for him. “Are people not kind to you?”

“No...I’m still working on that being kind to yourself thing though. I’ll figure it out one of these days,” he said.

“Well if you do, be sure to share the secret with the rest of us,” you said.

“You seem so put together though,” he said.

“I’m put together...and very much alone,” you said, glancing down at your cup. “You have a family. I’m by myself so much...it’s not where I thought I’d be at this point in life, you know?”

“Me too,” he said, moving his legs up to the seat, sitting cross legged, something innocent about him for a moment. There was some subtle difference between him and Sam, something you hadn’t quite picked up until that very moment.

It was as if, there was something missing. Something Sam knew or had learned that Dean hadn’t quite yet.

“You’re staring,” said Dean with a chuckle.

“Sorry. You just look very cute like that,” you said.

“Oh, I know it,” he said, flashing a wink your way. You giggled, Dean playing with his own coffee now. “Well, I don’t think you’re alone if it means anything.”

“Maybe not so much lately,” you said, a flash of heat on your cheeks.

“What do you do for fun?” he asked. “When you’re not baking or saving the damsels in distress next door?”

“Nothing,” you said. He frowned, tsking you. “Really. I don’t...I’ve been a workaholic most of my life. With school, college, med school, my business. I don’t really go and have fun.”

“You like music?” he asked.

“Yeah…” you said.

“Great. I’m taking you out tonight,” he said. “I’ll swing by around five if that works?”

“Sure? What’s-”

“It’s a surprise,” he said. “You’re gonna love it, I promise.”

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #series #spn series #au!dean x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction

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letterstothemidnightsociety · 4 years

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It’s week three of my Global-Pandemic-Induced decision to rewatch all of Supernatural, and so I’m still attempting to make this watch more productive than the last show that I binged.

So I’m on disc two now - that’s episodes 5 - 8 for those of you watching on Netflix. By the time we get to this disc, we know the basic formula for Supernatural as a series - Two Hunks + Fighting Evil to the Power of Acceptable Levels of Gore x Missing Dad = Ratings Gold. Or at the very least, good enough ratings that we’ll give you a season (or fourteen). And then...well...then.

Episode five is “Bloody Mary”, easily the scariest episode of this first season and, based on the nose dive that the formula takes after season 1, probably the entire series. Maybe it’s that the Bloody Mary legend was one that really got me as a kid, maybe it’s just that I don’t do so hot with ghosts, but guys this episode still made me turn on all the lights and avoid all my mirrors. I accidentally turned this episode on at 9pm and regretted it immediately. I walked away at one point to go clean my kitchen to strategically miss some of the spookier points and I walked back in during an even spookier point. I was mad that there were no commercials at the commercial break cut-to-black! The first time I watched this episode, I’m pretty sure I watched it through my fingers. This most recent viewing, I ALSO watched it through my fingers. Guys, THIS EPISODE.

I will say it a-hecking-gain: This episode scared the SHIT out of me.

AND THEN, THEN! Then this show has the gall to go ahead and drop a major season/character plot point right there in the middle of all this content that I am actively trying not to look at: SURPRISE! Sam has premonition powers and sorta kinda knew that his girlfriend was gonna die a terrible death weeks before she dies. Because sure, why not?

Ohmiglob the DRAMA.

I’m gonna take a moment to say that, yes, technically this piece of plot gets dropped within our first six episodes, so we can still safely say that, you know, they’re still setting up the story for the rest of the series. It’s not like a sudden twist they drop half way through the season, it’s being laid down as ground work. And I know that this turns out to be a MAJOR issue for the next four seasons at least, but can I just say: Kripke, you’re really throwing a lot at us. I mean, OK. here’s what we’ve got -

The Winchester’s lost their mom at a young age to some evil thing. Cool, got it.

THEN they have daddy issues with C-minus Single Dad John Winchester. Alright, that seems logical.

The brothers hunt bad guys looking for the thing that killed their mom. Ok still on board.

There’s family drama, relatable.

Dad’s gone missing and we gotta find, ok ok ok.

Also Sam’s girlfriend dies in a fire, alright, so we’re looking for that thing now too.

OH! And now Sam has magic powers.

I mean, it’s a lot, right? We got a lot of layers here. That’s all I’m sayin.

So “Bloody Mary”, right? Big episode, big bad guy, they kinda loophole their way into defeating her but I’m not mad. Big reveal at the end, so kind of an important lore episode. And then...well...then we get the following episodes:

“Skinwalker” - gross-out fx, establishes Dean as a lonely asshole with a lot of APB’s out on him

“The Hook Man” - takes the Urban Legend angle of the show and dials it up to 11

“Bugs” - Does what it says on the tin.

Now to be fair: all three of these episodes have at least ONE shining moment that reveals a little more about the characters we’re working with, and that character development plays out in important ways in the rest of the season/series. But all three of them are arguably---

FILLER EPISODES-ODES-ODES-ODESSssssssss.

Alright, maybe that’s unkind. Maybe we should call them standalones or self-contained. A Filler is an episode designed to “fill out” your season. It doesn’t necessarily move the overarching story of the season forward, although it may contain some concepts or revelations that are important later. I’d argue that Supernatural has only ever had two kinds of episodes - Series Arc and Filler. Not that that’s a bad thing - I like a filler episode now and again. Depending on how heavy your season gets (and by all accounts Supernatural gets pretty heavy), they can be a nice breath of fresh air - also known as a Breather Episode. Or they can be just for fun. I’mma reference “Once More with Feeling” again because sure, why not throw in a musical episode in season 6 of a show about vampire slaying, that’s fine. I wanna reference something from Community here too, but honestly anything after season 2 could probably be called filler or self contained, so who even knows. I’ll point at the Voltron episode where they spend a day in the mall to gather some unobtainium for the ship and wacky shenanigans ensue. Point being, they can be times to break the mold and experiment and have fun with what you’re writing. Or they can be ridiculous nonsense. Mileage may vary.

The crazy thing about these episodes is that they most closely resemble what Kripke intended the show to be in the first place. Kripke wanted a show that revolved around characters investigating American urban legends. What is more quintessentially urban legend than Bloody Mary, the Hook Man and curses from ancient Native American burial grounds? These were stories that I as the viewer was already sort of familiar with because I’d heard of all of them before. What I appreciated, specifically about the Bloody Mary episode, was that they a) acknowledge the fact that these are Urban Legends (capital letters and all) and then b) acknowledge that the legends vary wildly so a part of their job is figuring out what is true and what is rumor. I guess you could also call that a cop out but when I was a kid, I was told that Bloody Mary was the ghost of Queen Mary of England who was sister to Elizabeth I and was also violently anti-protestant. WHERE did I get this story? I have no idea. But I also have no idea where Sam got the “mutilated bride” story from either.

In an old article I found circa season 2, Kripke actually talks about preferring standalone content to mythology/lore episodes in television. Both as a creator and as a viewer, he wants a show where people can jump in at any time and “join the party” wherever they are. That’s the beauty of procedurals - you don’t need to start from the beginning to enjoy them.

But what really got me personally hooked on the show was the mythology, was the season long arc to find John Winchester and whatever killed their mom. Those mythos episodes were where the meat of the show was for me - it usually involved a lot of feelings and a lot of character development which is still mostly my jam. If I’m obsessively watching a show, it’s because I’m connected to the characters and watching them struggle through the challenges in their path, not because I want to see what monster they kill next.

And again, I’ll reiterate that each of these episodes contains an important nugget of character. In “Bloody Mary”, easily the least likely to be called Filler, we find out that Sam has weird magic powers that are the real source of his guilt over Jessica’s death.

In “Skin”, we find out a lot about Dean’s inner landscape from the DopppleDeaner, who reveals that Dean is probably most afraid of people leaving him (be still my 19-year-old heart).

Wasn’t mad about this bit...

Coulda done without this bit tho...

In “Hookman”...alright, you kinda got me on “Hookman”, but we do get the first appearance of the rocksalt shotgun and Sam talks with a girl about her dad issues which is really Sam talking about his own dad issues in the language of tv shows. Also, he maybe starts to move on from Jessica???? It’s unclear, and also a little weird but I guess he’s only 22 and that’s not that far off from 18/19.

Really, WB?? Sneaking into sorority houses?

And then in “Bugs”, yes, even in “Bugs”, we get juicy little bit of tension between the brothers as they advise some teen boy about family dynamics. The fight shows a lot about what each character feels about their own experiences growing up the way they did, how they manage the expectations from their own father, and how they believe those family dynamics should exist. I mean I guess you could also argue this is the episode that plants the seed for Wincest, but I don’t really want to go there, let’s not talk about it.

This kid’s like, “This is...not a conversation about me and MY dad, is it?”

So they could be worse. I mean the last two definitely aren’t great, and we’ll see how they measure up to the Monster Truck episode later in the season, but they’re not bad episodes.

So let’s flash forward to Now again - have we seen the end of Filler Episodes?

As I have mentioned in previous posts and will probably continue mentioning in future posts, the 22 episode season is not the norm anymore. A lot of articles I’ve read point to Breaking Bad as the first American show to really break that mold. Breaking Bad released only 7 episodes in it’s first season in 2007. When you’ve cut your story down that much, there’s no room for filler - you’re basically producing a 7 hour movie.

Now notice I said American TV show. I’m pretty sure for most of the rest of the world, 22 episodes is way outside the norm, but really I can only speak to UK TV. Seasons in the UK do not last as long as seasons in America. Doctor Who, one of, if not the, longest running show on BBC, aired its first season with 42 episodes, which is mind boggling. But since the series revived in 2005, it hasn’t had more than 13 episodes in a season. Spooks/MI5 never had more than 10 episodes. The IT Crowd only aired 6 episodes per season. Broadchurch had only 8. And because I must complete the Superwholock trifecta, Sherlock seasons were only 3 episodes a piece. These are the shows that spring to mind while I’m writing this, but you get the idea.

So why does American broadcast TV have such long seasons? Well, the answer is: moneymoneymoney.

We live in an age of “prestige” TV. Some throw around “Golden Era”, but there’s been like, a Golden Era of television every 10 years since tv’s became household commodities, so that phrase basically means nothing. TV today is more similar to long-form film making than it was a decade ago. We associate terms like “film” with other terms like “art”, and sometimes we forget that television is, and always was, a business. It’s a business that’s making a lot of money entertaining you for hours on end, but a business nonetheless. I’d argue that it doesn’t mean it’s not art, but I don’t think we can separate the art and entertainment value of tv from its actual monetary value.

Strategically, the 22-episode season was to get a show to a magical number of total episodes - 100. Once you hit the 100th episode, somewhere around season 5 (thanks math), then you can sell the show in syndicated reruns. This is also referred to as second-run syndication or off-network syndication. When a show is syndicated, that means the production company that produces the show can now sell the right to air episodes to other channels. Think channels like TBS or TNT or even USA Network - they don’t really dabble in producing their own content, they just repackage content from other networks to plug in to empty slots in their programming. And because these channels can air episodes 5 days a week, 365 days a year, that means the production company can actually make more money by selling the show in syndication than when they sold the show to the primary network. The more episodes you have in a season, the faster you get to syndication, and sometimes that means a show that’s on the brink of cancellation due to poor numbers may still get greenlit for another season or two if they’re closer to that magic 100th episode. For a show like Supernatural, that has a very procedural, not-super-heavy-mythos, structure, you can do very well in syndication. Just cuz another network agreed to air your show doesn’t mean they agreed to air it in order, so procedurals work better in syndication than your season-arc shows do. And that’s why we have episodes like Bugs, that have nothing to do with the overarching plot of the season and also phone in some questionable CGI.

Apparently they DID use real bugs to shoot this scene and everyone got bit to hell but the bugs didn’t show up good and they went with CG anyway?!?

But these days, you don’t have to hit 100 episodes. Sometimes only 80 episodes will do. Sometimes, you run a streaming site and you don’t have to worry about reruns at all because your revenue isn’t generated from air time or even ads, but from subscription prices. Honestly, when you think of it that way, it makes way more sense to greenlight shorter seasons so that you have the budget to buy more and more diverse shows that will appeal to a broader audience of viewers.

So if Supernatural was produced today, would we get these off-shoot, self-contained episodes that have little to do with the plot of finding Sam and Dean’s dad? It’s hard to say. Knowing what I do about Kripke’s original plans for the show and his thoughts on procedural standalone episodes in general, its possible that he’d still try for a traditional season aired on a traditional TV network. But in that same interview I quoted above, he also mentions that the only way to get into a show with a heavy mythos is to buy the DVDs. We don’t need DVDs anymore - we have Netflix. And Hulu and Prime and any number of other streaming services that pick up any show they can get just to have a larger library of content and attract new viewers. I think a good indicator of what Supernatural would look like if it aired today is Hulu’s Helstrom - a show about two siblings with a childhood marked by strange and terrible happenings, who spend the season trying to defeat an evil demon. This show is a Hulu original that dropped all 10 episodes on October 16, 2020, and damn if that doesn’t sound familiar. I told a friend, “it’s like Supernatural but more emotions.” (Her response was, MORE emotions?!?!?) And before you dive down the rabbit hole, the characters in Helstrom made their debut in a Marvel comic back in the 70’s, so you can just chalk it up to nothing new under the sun.

Big Mood, guys. Big Mood.

I’ll close this one by reiterating I don’t mind a filler episode. Some fillers can be weird and great and wonderful. I’d say “Tales of Ba Sing Se” (Avatar the Last Air Bender, Season 2) is a great example - with the possible exception of Appa, the vignettes presented in “Tales” are basically side quests that have nothing to do with the main quest of season 2 and only serve to develop characters. The stories are sweet and touching and also light and fun.

I’m not crying, YOU’RE crying! It’s ok, I’m also crying.

And the longer a show runs, the more likely you are to run into these fillers - episodes that take a break from the main action to bring something that’s new and out of the box and possibly/probably writers getting bored with the every-day formula of the show. I think season 1 of Supernatural does a decent job of balancing the two styles of episode so that neither gets boring. In fact, I’m pretty Supernatural was what taught me the difference between the two episode styles in the first place. And the first time around, I was hyped for those season arc episodes, because back in the late 2000’s, I hadn’t seen a lot of TV content like that. Now, 15 years on and mired in a sea of seasons that stick mainly to a season arc story with little to no room for breathing, I think that if all TV became nothing but season arc episodes...well, it’d get pretty boring.

#Supernatural #Supernatural Season 1 #Bloody Mary #Hookman #Bugs #Skin #Jensen Ackles #jared padalecki #kripke #helstrom #Filler episodes #TV #TV history #Supernatural Rewatch #CW #Sam #Dean #Winchesters

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superbjudgewagonperson · 3 years

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I never thought I'm gonna talk about my feelings for supernatural ending... But how they made it so poorly really pissed me off. They could make it better but decided to ruin it all.

First.

They want to make it back to the old school supernatural... Okey, I got the point here and I liked it. Two brothers, saving people hunting things and family business, dad's journal kinda thing, amazing baby. But what I hate is they don't make it serious. What the Fuck? The stupid mask vampires and vampire chick Jenny. I don't hate them but don't you think it kinda lack of many things? If you the real fans of the old supernatural seasons. I'm sure you feel the difference. I've been watching it from the beginning. Half of my life dedicated for supernatural ( I revealed my age) I know the vibe. But this is a joke. It's like watching a low budget amateur action horror TV show. OMG you could make it better!! If covid-19 restricted you for extra people and places, hey you have enough amazing actors (love the goodbye speech between Dean an Sam. Well acted) and amazing crews to make it good. You wasted your chances! You don't lose their skills because of covid-19, right? So why this happened!!!

Second.

Why choose killing Dean? Why!!! They have enough death already. Why don't make they living a good normal apple pie life together for once without any consequences? Dean deserve it. Sam deserve it. Close the bunker. Rent a house close to Eileen. Dean find a job. Be a mechanic, or firefighter or anything. And Sam continuing school at local university and work part time. Continue dating just by the text. If you still want to kill Dean, you can choose by killing him in an accident at work or still making him a hero by saving people at work. Not by a monster. And then Sam can accept it moving on with life having family until he die. We don't need blurry wife just make Sam's kid talking with ASL and we understand he married with Eileen. Fuck!

Third

You make Jared looked awful. Fuck, that wig, I hate it. I hate the photos at Sam's room. Even you can't effort to put on Eileen's and castiel's or any other friends he have photoshop photos .And you choose make a large photo of John and Mary? Are you not understand the character or what? And you choose make Sam looked miserable waiting his time to end. Well, you don't have a choice except miserable Sam because you fucked up all the storyline. Are you crazy!

Fourth

Huuh... My blood pressure getting high.

The heaven things... I love Bobby. He has a right to welcoming Dean since he's the one who like a real father to him. And the Roadhouse too. Ellen and Jo just like his own mother and sister. Unfortunately we can't see them dues covid thing. But I understand that. But again John? That dude supposed to rotten in hell. But then again you make him like a good daddy for Dean and Sam. Oh come on! Not mention him way better. You wasting dialogue. You could just mention anyone else. Like Ellen and Jo, or Ash.

And the last. You mentioned Castiel helped Jack to build a new heaven. How dare you make him not going to visiting Dean? Even if you can't bring Misha to shoot because of covid, you can make castiel's apparence just the glimpse of his coat and his voice "hello dean" at the bridge after his reunion with Sam.

All of the episode just like a lazy piece of shit. Maybe if you wait a little bit more and make a real good episode would be great. We don't mind waiting. Hey we already waiting long enough before. You could do better! Except you can't because Walker gonna start shooting (right😑).Even the master piece of Jared and Jensen acting couldn't save the episode.. I feel bad to them, to the crew. All their hard work for 15 years, 15 years and the final episode becoming the second worst rating of all the episodes.

OMFG!!!

I can't believe this.

#mythough #supernatural #wtf #15x20 #lazypieceofshit #misha #jensen #jared #theydeservebetter #deansamcas #dean #sam #castiel

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holylulusworld · 5 years

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Right kind of wrong – Part 10

Summary: Dean claims Y/N as his. The only problem, she’s John’s chosen Omega.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, Bobby Singer, Azaziel, OFC Mary, OMC John jr.

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, ABO dynamics, suffering Omega, characters death, Jake, demons, daddy!Sam, daddy!Dean, fluff, implied smut, pregnant reader

Right kind of wrong Masterlist

“We need to find him, Dean.” You sniffle holding tight onto your Alpha for dear life. Some hours ago, Dean and Sam wanted to get something to eat and now Sam is gone and you can’t feel him anymore.

“Can you still not feel him?” Bobby asks.

“No…” You choke out.

“He’s somewhere, I know it, Omega. Don’t worry we will find Sammy in no time.” Dean lies not knowing how to soothe you. His head suddenly hurts, and he sees a bell with a tree on it…a large bell.

“Dean?” You scream panicked as Dean is close to passing out. Rubbing his forehead, he groans and doubles over.

“Boy, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, Bobby, I saw an old town and a bell with something on it.” Dean pants and Bobby looks at him concerned.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know. A headache?”

“Do you get headaches like that a lot? Like Sam?” Bobby asks and Dean scoffs.

“I don’t have visions…” Dean loses track of what he wanted to say as he falls against the car in pain. He sees another image, this time of Sam.

“Dean? Dean!” You gasp kneeling beside your Alpha, trying to make him look at you.

“Are you okay?” Bobby asks.

“Yeah, I think so. I saw Sam. I saw him, Bobby.”

“A vision then?” You ask. Most of the time you avoided talking about Sam’s visions, about the things he saw.”

“What else did you see?”

“Uh… there was this bell again. Like a big bell with some kind of engraving on it…” Dean pants trying to get back up. “Damn, now I know what Sammy was talking about. Sucks having visions.”

“Engraving?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it a tree? Like, an oak tree?” Bobby asks and Dean nods. “Exactly.”

“I know where Sam is. Cold Oak, South Dakota. We should hurry then. Get your weapons ready. I suggest Y/N has one this time too. We don’t know who or rather what will wait for us.” Bobby says.

“The yellow-eyed demon, I guess.” You whisper. “Having John’s soul was not enough.”

“Omega…” Dean whispers remembering the fight after he got to know you knew about John and his sacrifice to save him.

“We need to stop him but we do not have the colt…”

“Get in the car, we will find a way. First of all, we are going to save Sammy, after that we will move on.” Dean mutters opening the door to the passenger seat for you. “I swear we will find your Alpha, Y/N,” Dean says softer this time.

“I can’t lose him, Dean.” You sniffle. “I almost lost you and it killed me. I can lose Sam…please.”

“We won’t lose him.”

—-

Sam is running, he can’t kill Jake so he needs to hide, needs to get away from him before he kills Jake as the yellow-eyed bastard wants him to.

He can hear a familiar noise and then he sees Dean and Bobby running toward him. A smile on his face he hears his brother calling for him.

“Sam!”

Dean and Bobby approaching, with flashlights, towards him. They walk toward each other, in the rain.

“Dean!” Sam sighs relieved not seeing Jake running after him a knife in his hand. He tries to lunge at Sam, to stab him but a gunshot catches his attention before he feels the bullet piercing his heart, dropping the knife Jake falls to the ground.

“Y/N,” Dean gasps rushing toward you, catching your falls as you start shaking. “I killed him…” You choke out, dropping the gun. “I killed a man.”

“He would’ve killed Sammy, Omega. Shhh…you did well. That bastard wanted to kill your Alpha.” Dean whispers rocking you back and forth in his arms.

“Sam…” You gasp holding out your hand as he kneels to move his arms around your trembling body.

“She needs you,” Dean says and Sam scoops you into his arms as you hold tight onto him, trembling in his arms. “Alpha…”

“I’m here, you saved me, Y/N. We should get out of here. He brought us here, to kill each other till only one is left.” Sam explains and Dean looks at Jake.

“Guess this makes you the winner.” Dean shrugs and Sam nods. Rain is soaking your clothes, just like Sam’s. Your body starts shaking even more, due to the rain and you press your body close to Sam’s warm chest.

“I’ve missed you, Alpha.” You whisper and Sam’s heart aches. The whole time he only thought of you and Dean. He never imagined you would miss him as much as you would’ve missed Dean.

“She didn’t stop yearning for you. Y/N needs you. Get in the backseat and hold her for a while. She needs to feel her Alpha.”

Your eyes drift toward Jake who lies on the ground, dead…bleeding. Your stomach churns but you know he would’ve killed your Alpha. There’s a moment of peace as Sam is holding you in his arms before you see him, the monster taking you Alpha away from you.

The monster killing John…

“I’m disappointed and surprised at the same time. You did not kill Jake, but he almost took you away from me. I wish I could’ve seen his surprised face as a little Omega killed the strong Alpha.” Yellow eyes chuckles. “I must admit you found a nice Omega. Sharing it with your brother is not worth a leader.” He’s circling Sam and you can feel the tension in your Alpha’s body as the demon tries to touch your cheek.

“Hands off my mate!” Sam warns and the demon chuckles.

“I only wanted to see why she is that special to you and Dean. I guess she’s one nice piece of meat. I want you to keep her, not like Jess. You need the motivation to fight. How about that…” Snapping his fingers the demon cuts your air supply off. Choking you claw at Sam’s shirt, close to passing out.

“Stop! Why are you doing this?” Sam gasps as the demon smirks at him.

“Your nice little Omega killed Jake. You are the only one left. I will give you a key and you will open a lock for me. Till then I will keep her.” The demon snickers, snapping his fingers once again and you are gone.

“Where is she, bastard!” Dean yells storming toward the enemy.

“Stay or I will kill her. You can go with Sammy, Dean. He will open the door and Y/N will return, safe and sound. Don’t worry, I’m a man of my word. Ask your daddy or your mommy.” The demon chuckles handing Sam the colt.

“What keeps me from killing you right now?” Sam spats aiming the colt toward yellow eyes head.

“Y/N will die the moment you pull the trigger, son.” He chuckles.

“If you hurt her or if you touch her, I’ll kill you…” Sam snarls and Dean puff his chest. “We are going to rip you and every demon into pieces,” Dean adds.

“Ah, ah…not as long as I’ve got your sweet little Omega. Go to Wyoming. Use the colt and open the door for me, or she will not just die, she will suffer like no one before.” The demon says handing Sam a map. “You’ve got three hours before I start hurting her…”

The demon vanishes and Sam falls to his knees, looking up at his older brother he starts crying.

“My fault…again…” Sam whispers as Dean grabs his arm, shaking his head. “No, his fault. Now get your shit together, our Omega needs us. We will open whatever he wants us to open and then we will kill that bastard.”

—-

“Here we are, now let her go!” Sam growls seeing the demon holding your arm in a tight grip, making you wince in pain.

“You will open the door on the cemetery first. After that, I’ll let her go.” The demon smirks not intending on letting you go.

“Fine.” Sam scoffs nodding at Dean who follows him as Bobby hides behind the Impala, ready to attack the demon. The old hunter only prays the spell he used to hide him from every demon will work so he can save you before Sam opens the gate to hell.

“Hurry up. I’m losing my patience.”

“Ready if you are,” Sam says smirking at the demon as Bobby attacks him with a knife, dunked in salt and holy water. Driving the knife deep into the yellow-eyed demons back Bobby smirks as he let go of you.

Dean is grabbing your wrist dragging you away as the demon tries to get hold of you but it’s too late. Sam is aiming the colt, firing the remaining bullet, killing the demon in an instant.

“That was for mom, dad and every single child you fed with your blood,” Sam pants, dropping the colt to move his arms around you.

“I guess he’s off our list.” Dean gasps, picking the colt up. “What now?”

“Sam is glancing at you and then at his brother. “Now we are going to plan our future without demons, hunting and killing things…”

—-

Around 5 years later…

“Daddy look at the picture Mary drew.” Your son squeals showing his father the latest picture his sister drew for her father.

“Daddy is proud of you, Mary,” Sam says smiling wildly at his daughter.

“My son drew the Impala. Look at it, Sammy.” Dean chuckles showing Sam the picture his son drew hours ago.

“That’s not a car…” Sam chuckles. “Looks like a turtle on wheels.”

Dean shrugs, glancing at the picture once again he shakes his head. “Nope. That’s the Impala. Have a closer look.” The Alpha insists and you shake your head.

“Guys…Alphas. Can you lift this? I would do it but being six months pregnant with twins makes it way harder to carry heavy stuff.” You mutter pointing toward the box full of toys.

“I’m on it, Omega.” Dean stammers grabbing the box to carry it back into John jr. room.

“How was work, Sammy?” You ask seeing your Alpha’s tired eyes.

“Work was work. I’ve missed you and the pups,” Sam whines kneeling to plant a soft kiss to your huge belly.

“You saw me and them this morning and during lunch, Alpha.” Smiling you move your fingers through his shaggy hair.

“Is he whining once again?” Dean chuckles looking at his brother kissing your swollen stomach.

“Your workshop is right behind the house. You can see her all day long.” Sam mutters glaring at his big brother.

“Dude, your office is about twenty minutes away. She brought you lunch and according to her status of dressing you did more than eating lunch.” Dean teases knowing about the lack of underwear.

“Uh…” Sam clears his throat trying to hide all the dirty things he did to you in his office. “I was just checking on her…”

“Don’t lie, Sammy. Her underwear was missing and one of the straps of her dress was ripped off. Damn, she smelled like you and I had to take her to the showers and take care of the problem.” Dean mutters giving his brother a dirty grin.

“You too? I thought I wore her out.” Sam says glancing at you.

“What? I’ve got two hot and potent Alphas. I’m pregnant and high on hormones, nothing wrong with wanting you both all the time.” You shrug.

Dean is nodding, giving you a bright smile. “No, nothing wrong, cause it’s the right kind of wrong…”

THE END

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 5 years

Text

Dear Hannah,

Pairing: technically Destiel, but that’s not what this is about Word Count: 4.9k (wow wtf) Warnings: mentions of self-harm, cancer, shitty father John (as per usual), angst and angst and father-daughter love and angst. Summary: When Dean, strapped to a bed, coughing up a storm, catches sight of his newly-adopted baby girl, he decides that, if he is to leave this world, he has to leave something behind for his favorite person. So he writes a booklet, trying to tell her all the things he would’ve if he was alive. Author’s note: This was originally done for @welldonebeca ‘s 2019 Song Challenge but I fucked up thinking the deadline was the 31st of October instead of the 15th. Whatever the case, my prompt was movement, by Hozier, which I interpreted as Dean being fascinated by his daughter enough that he’s inspired to write a letter book to her. Of course this wouldn’t be the entire thing, but I had to keep it under wraps.

Feedback is always welcome! No beta, all mistakes are my own.

~~~~

Hannah,

Christ, it’s the third time I’m starting this. The truth is, I’m coming up with blanks as to how to actually start. This has got to be the best I’ve got.

I’ll tell you the moral of this story, my story, from the get-go. Life’s a fucking bitch, okay? I want you to know that from now. I’d try to hold back on my swearing, but I want you to know me as the person I am, the person I’ve always been. I know what having an absent, terrible father’s like, as you’ll soon see, and I don’t want that for you. I wish I could tell you all this up close, give you advice, tell you all my crazy-ass stories as the dumbass of the teenager I was, and all the shenanigans your uncle (wow, Sam really is a friggin’ uncle!), by a campfire, while you drink your first beer.

Sadly, my odds aren’t looking so great, honey. So this is all I got. I know it’ll never be enough but something is better than nothing.

Enough with the chick flick introduction, though. Let’s start.

The pen’s heavy in his hand, and it’s equal parts the mental heaviness, the weight of the task, as it is his fatigue. Dean’s really just started this. He can’t believe it. The heaviness of uncertainty, of whether or not he’ll get enough time to finish it settles on his chest like an anvil. There’s a solid chance he doesn’t make it before his time comes.

Hannah’s sitting right there, carelessly looking at the plastic, grinning stars above her crib. She’s so innocent, skin creamy, chocolaty and bright, a young, fearsome woman that’s gonna turn out to be so incredible, he’s certain. A small baby who’s soon to walk.

Dean already knows, this kid is destined for great things.

She’s gonna grow up, past the tutus and the miniature racing-car collections, she’s gonna have a movie she’ll play on repeat for ever and ever, with a song that he’ll learn by heart after having heard it so many times. She’s gonna go to high school and she’ll be bullied but she’ll learn to kick some serious ass. She’ll develop interests, she’ll have mediocre grades but a fiery passion and a love for anything alive.

She’ll, then, go to college. She’ll fall in love, with people and life itself. She’ll do what she loves most and she’ll be so damn good at it, she’ll excel.

And Dean… Dean will be nowhere near her to see all of it.

The bitterness… it makes his eyebrows stitch together, his lip curl in clear frustration and sadness. After everything he’s been through, finally finding the person he loves most and creating a full-ass apple pie life, and it’s all gonna be gone as soon as it started. Because, as he told his favorite Hannah, life’s a fucking bitch, and there’s no denying it.

As he lays there in his bed, pale as a sheet, watching her giggle for a while, reaching for the stars, soon yawning, small eyelids shutting softly and rocking just slightly, he… he falls in love with her. This tiny, tiny happy-beyond-words creature that could ask anything of him, and he’d do it, god damn it. He really would.

A giant bubble grows in his chest, a bubble that makes him feel like he’ll protect her at absolute all costs. He’ll grab the moon and fucking move it if that’s what she needs. And all she has to do is yawn and fall asleep.

A tear appears in the corner of his eye, lingering and falling down his ashy cheek. He can’t believe he brought this bright ray of sunshine to this world, and he’s about to make her live with an absent father. That he won’t get any memories with her at all. It’s torture. All of it.

He doesn’t know what else to do, so he grabs his pen with more determination. If he’s to leave her with something, it’ll be a part of him and that is that.

~~~~~

I was born on January 24th, 1979, the first son of a, dare I say, colossally unlucky family. Your uncle, Sam, my brother, is four years younger and will ALWAYS be a wimp, don’t let the height fool you. He always had terrible, shaggy hair and was always the sharpest tool in the box. Hell, the boy went to freaking LAW SCHOOL of all places! That’s kinda crazy!

My parents, your grandparents, were Mary and John.

Mary was a sweet, incredible, fearsome blonde woman, kindest of them all. She’d cut the crusts off my toast, sing Hey, Jude to me before bed and tell me angels were watching over me. (While we’re on the topic of the Beatles, make a note to listen to them. “Hey, Jude” must be your first song, but beyond the classics [Let it Be, Hard Day’s Night, I Saw Her Standing There, I Wanna Hold your hand etc] I hope “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” will hold a special spot in your heart, much like me.)

So, Mary. Sweet Mary. She was a real badass, you know. This one time, Sammy was hungry, so I decided to make, get this, French fries. I think I was seven. She caught me getting ready to pour oil in a very hot pan. When I say she swooped in, I mean it, quite literally. I think she saved me a hand that day.

Now, about John…You’ll have to forgive the mess that I’m about to make with this, but John was a fucking sorry excuse of a father, alright? He got piss-drunk every night after Mom died, and naturally, Sam and I were the punching bags, sometimes literally. The best nights were the ones he wasn’t home.

For years, the house was silent. Sam and I tried to keep everything clean, stock up on canned food, because at times we would only have ten bucks to hold us for over two weeks. I took him to school, fed him, made sure he studied –not that I really had to- and kept John of his hair. At sixteen I picked up a shift at Bobby Singer’s garage, a man that, at this point, deserves the Dad title significantly more than John.

Whenever Sammy was sick, it was my fault. Was anyone loud? Dean’s fault. House dirty? Dean’s fault. Did we wake him up? …Let’s just say we learned not to do that.

I tried to put myself before Sam, did anything I could to protect him. There were times when that wasn’t even enough.

I dropped out of high school at seventeen. The second I saved up enough money, I rented a hole of an apartment at the other side of town, in an attempt to help Sam have a normal life, and we hauled ass out of there.

Before I tell you about our shitty apartment, let me tell you about the highlights of my high school career. Starting off with me “unintentionally” kicking a ball at my least favorite teacher’s face (and hitting him) ((Don’t take your father’s example, kid, violence isn’t the answer.)) (Did feel pretty good at the time though), making out with Jenny in the Janitor’s closet and with Arthur at the locker rooms afterhours (I don’t know what age you’re reading this at, but I sure hope it’s over 16). Also, that one time I pulled a prank at my friend, Cole. I spray painted his entire locker. He didn’t like me very much, to be honest…

~~~~~

An important story I feel inclined to share with you, would be the fact that I was once a bully.

Kids are just mean, but also, I couldn’t understand that troubles at home, traumatic pasts and anger are not to be taken out on other people who are not at fault. Instead of finding a healthy way to deal with everything that was happening at home, I decided that every happy person that was weak enough to meddle with, didn’t deserve any happiness.

I picked on a couple of people, but I think the one I will always regret will be Kevin Tran.

Kevin was a freshman when I was in junior year. He was in the Math club, the Science club and the Robotics club. He had maybe two friends, he was skinny, short, shy as hell, he drowned himself in oversized clothes and always carried a neon green book bag around, that worked on me like red cloth to a bull.

Every time I spotted the bag in the hallway, the drill would start. Shoving the poor kid against the locker, calling him names and laughing at his face for no apparent reason. I’d steal his calculators when I found out he had chemistry tests, spray paint the door of his locker and cause rib bruises from my shoving him against walls and furniture.

I soon find out Kevin was severely depressed. In fact, I saw him in the back of the school, where I’d usually go out to smoke because I thought it was cool (it’s not, it makes you light headed, unfocused and struggle to breathe. Just an all-around terrible experience, but this is just a side-note.)

It was a Friday after school. I didn’t wanna go straight home and Sam still had one more period, so I decided to go smoke and listen to some music in the back of the school building. And that’s where I found him.

I don’t know into how much detail I should go here, but Kevin was harming himself. With a small pocket knife, he sat on an old basket and made incisions on his arms, tears running down his face like a faucet. My God, Hannah, I’ve never felt like a bigger piece of shit in my life, because I knew, and I knew very well, that at least part of those incisions were caused by me.

I called out to him, and the look on his face, as he scrambled away from me, made me feel so much worse. I was the scum of the earth at that moment. I was the biggest asshole on the planet.

My initial reaction, I’ll admit, was pretty harsh. I grabbed the pocket knife out of his hands and threw it as far as possible in the grass. I grabbed a small first aid kit I had in my bag (in case anything happens to Sam), made him sit down by force and bandaged him up. He’d been reduced to sniffles by the time I was done.

Somewhere in between, I remember, he asked me why I was doing this. I didn’t answer.

Eventually, when I was done, I sat on the ground in front of him, ripping blades of grass from the ground. I apologized. Something along the lines of “I didn’t know, not that that’s an excuse. What I’m going through is not an excuse, but I hope it makes you understand that it was nothing to do with you. I’ll stop. I’m sorry. Don’t do this to yourself, man.”

That evening, Kevin was one of the very first people who found out about John. His own dad had passed away, and things at home were rough with his mom. That, along with the whole depression thing… it wasn’t a good combo.

After a solid two hours of talking with him, making amends, apologizing profusely and getting my apology accepted (which I absolutely didn’t deserve by the way,) we made it back out front.

From then on, I stopped picking on anyone. Kevin and I actually became really good friends, though we drifted apart eventually. I think he works in Google now.

This is really important. I want you to pay attention and take heed of my words. There are a couple lessons in this story.

One, be kind. Always be kind. To everyone. It doesn’t matter if they’re going through a rough time or not, the same way it didn’t matter that Kevin’s father was dead. You don’t know the other person. There’s never a reason to not be kind, if the person has done nothing to you. A smile can make somebody’s day, a compliment can go a long way, and being open and honest and kind will make people who are looking for help find you, it will make other’s lives better, and if you’ve helped even a single person, your life has been successful.

Two, never, and I mean never take your emotional pain out on yourself, or others. There are healthy ways to deal with ugly emotions. There are people who can help. Find a new hobby, as silly as it sounds. Start doing something creative, something that draws your attention elsewhere, like art of any kind, or, in my case, fixing cars. Something to keep you busy. If you’re in trouble, emotional or otherwise, there are people who love and support you, who will do their mightiest to be by your side, and if those aren’t your friends, they’re definitely your family.

Bottling up emotions, or dealing with them in horrible, unhealthy ways has been my go-to. Don’t be like me. Express yourself in different ways, and don’t keep your feelings shoved under the carpet, because it will, absolutely, unceremoniously explode, and you’ll take people down with you. And that’s when you’ll feel like the worst person in the world. The guilt, the residue of said ugly feelings isn’t worth it. Trust me.

If you make mistakes, if you hurt people who don’t deserve it, learn from it, grow, be better. Do not sink into yourself , don’t hate yourself. Apologize, make amends and move on, try to never do the same thing. It’s okay. We’re all human. The only thing that matters is that you try to be better.

No matter what, remember that I will always love you.

~~~~

So. Our apartment back in Kansas was, as I told you, a real dump. It had a tiny-ass kitchen with a miniature stove, two mattresses that were creaky and lumpy and were left there by the previous owners, as well as the TINIEST bathroom you’ve ever seen. It didn’t have shower walls, it had a shower head and a drain on the floor and was not in any way separated from the toilet. The walls of the place were peeling, the floor was tiled and cracked in a bunch of places and the humidity must’ve been over 80%.

I fucking loved that place.

On our third day there, I borrowed some spray paints from Cole, carried them in a cardboard box up the claustrophobic, green stairs, and opened the door in absolute triumph. That day, Sam and I opened the two windows, scratched the paint off the walls with two spatulas and went WILD. It must’ve been the only day Sam didn’t study.

Actually, no, now that I think about it, there was another time, when little ol’ ten-year-old Sam fell off a ledge and freakin’ broke his arm. I dumped him on Cole’s bike and pedaled to the hospital like a maniac. That was the first day he didn’t study.

Anyways, that apartment wall made our crappy little living situation a home. Our own sanctuary. We finally got agency over our lives, from staying up late, to choosing which type of dish soap we’d use because it smelled better and didn’t remind us of the terror chores once were. Eventually, we got soft blankets, books, board games, decorations… Finally, after 18 years, we’d started our lives.

I think one of my favorite memories would be coming home from my first date with a guy. I was just 18 and Benny, the dude, kissed me before I left, his fists clutching at my flannel. I was driving home with a giant, dopey-ass smile, stretching from one ear straight to the other. That same night, with new-found confidence, I told Sammy to drop his book, bought ourselves some beers and snacks, and drove to my favorite clearing.

There, right under the stars, with Sammy trying out his first beer, I told him I’m bisexual, and the cute bastard hugged me and told me he loved me no matter what. That same night, he thanked me for everything I did for him while living with John. We talked until the sun was rising.

I’ll tell you this right now, kid, in case you haven’t gotten it yet. I love Sam. Love him to bits. I raised that kid all on my own and will do anything to protect him. I know he cares for me, I know it kills him to see me like this, in a bed, pale, miserable and coughing every three seconds. I just want you to know, honey, that whatever you need, anything at all that, for some reason, you don’t want to tell Dad, you go to Sam, okay? You can trust him to be supportive, loyal, to be there for you when no one else is and to love you like you’re his own daughter and best friend. I promise you, he will always, always be there when I’m not.

That night made us grow so much closer. The lesson here, I’d say, is be bold and confident in what you believe in and who you are. Be your own, unique self, be brave, and love whoever you choose to fully and with your whole heart, without shame, ever. If you are yourself, I promise, you’ll find the people that love you for you, not the person you’re pretending to be. You’ll inspire other to be themselves.

A good example of this would be my best friend, Charlie. When I came out, I was armed to the teeth to deal with whoever wanted to bully me for that part of me. To tell you the truth, my school coming out was a mishap. It takes nothing but a risky make-out session in the janitor’s closet and nosey students that rip doors open far too violently. Nevertheless, I was literally out of the closet, fists up. And that’s exactly when I met Charlie.

With her comic book stories and her books, her bubbly personality and bright smile, she wiggled her way into our lives and permanently stayed there. She was a freshman when I was a senior, but she seemed to find sanctuary by my side, as I did by hers. She was just one of those people who clicked, you know? Far too mature and interesting for her age, with an obsession with computers, even back when they were barely even a thing.

She now lives with her long-term girlfriend, Gilda, who owns the best bakery in the state. Ask for the apple pie, you will not be disappointed.

Charlie demanded of me to tell you, first off, to watch Marvel and screw DC right to hell (with which I have to agree, though Batman still remains one of the coolest Superheroes of my childhood (and Joker, the coolest villain)). She also told me that, if you read this, go ask her for her comics, She’d love to let you borrow them and she’s certain you’ll love them. Second off, she asked of me to tell you the Impala story…

It’s not as grand as she makes it out to be, honestly. However this is the part where you’ll learn all about the one and only Bobby Singer.

Bobby was my boss, an old friend of dad’s John’s and the first person who ever saw the bruises under my sleeves. He gave me a job, a family, and later on… a car.

Bobby owns a scrapyard. He taught me everything I know about cars, including driving, and for my seventeenth birthday, he brought a dusty, beat-up car in my workspace. The hood was bent, the seats were torn, and the engine needed immediate replacing. The customer never paid the price for the compartments the garage had paid, so under store policy, the car was ours.

Hannah, I can’t exactly describe to you how long it took me to repair that car. Buying the spare parts and assembling them would’ve probably taken less time. I built her from the ground up, it took me almost a month and a half of daily, eight-to-six work, but I made it. I fixed her up. She was in prime condition, and I had completely fallen in love with her.

I finished working on her early January, dreading the moment I would see her drive away. Bobby had seen all the effort, by then I’d worked at his place for over a year. So, on the day of my birthday, I opened my locker to put on my jumpsuit, when I saw a box placed on my neatly folded clothes. I’m sure you’ve guessed it by now. Yes. It was the keys to my dream car. A beautiful, sleek, black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, the one I had brought back to life. And it was all mine.

I don’t think I’ve hugged Bobby any tighter since then. Hell, I don’t think I’ve hugged him period.

That car… That car is probably the most stable thing in my life, apart from Sam, obviously. I’ve cried in that car, I’ve escaped from my terrible past, I’ve laughed, I’ve had my first time, I’ve been through breakups and I’ve spent my best days with it. I cherish it more than any other item I know. It’s not even an item, it’s my baby. I love it almost as much as I love you.

I met your dad, and kissed him for the first time in that car.

It’s actually a pretty fucking hilarious story. Cas was on a date with this guy who was completely disgusting and creepy as hell, so in true movie fashion he decided to, get this, jump out the bathroom window and escape.

Yeah.

So just as he was running out of the bar, the guy must’ve caught wind of him or something, because he stepped outside in order to find Cas. What did your dad decide to do, I hear you ask? He ducked behind a car in the parking lot, opened the first unlocked door he found, and jumped in.

Spoiler alert. It was my car.

I was sitting in the front seat, fighting with Sam through text when the door opened. It was highly comical, watching this guy duck behind the bench seat, mumbling “oh God, oh God, oh God, please don’t see me, oh God.” I cleared my throat.

“Oh, I see you, buddy.” That’s the first thing I told him. The look on his face and the genuine yelp, made me laugh a full belly laugh, and completely forget about my fight with Sam. He apologized profusely, explained panicked what had happened and begged me to stay in my car just for a couple minutes so the guy can lose him.

Long story short, we ended up going out ourselves. I don’t know how to explain it… we just clicked immediately. Like, there was a connection. Him and his big words, his baby blue eyes, his steady, deep and rough voice… I knew right away that all I wanted was to spend time with him, learn everything he was willing to share with me.

I’m so glad to have met your Dad. He was, is and always will be one of the best, kindest, most humble and genuine people on the planet. He sees the world from such a beautiful point of view that contradicts my eternal realism (he enjoys calling me pessimistic.) He’s a genuinely great person, and I can’t wait for you to figure so out yourself, if you haven’t already.

Of course, it wasn’t all fine and dandy. Meeting his parents was hellish. Let’s just say, Chuck and Naomi aren’t… the best people. They tried really, really hard to stop us from seeing each other, and eventually, they completely disowned Cas. He doesn’t like to talk about them much. His brother, Gabriel is an asshole, but a loveable one, while his other brother, Michael, you probably don’t know about. And you shouldn’t. Let’s just leave it at that. If Cas wants to share that story with you, he’ll do it at his own time.

I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned here. Something about, when finding your person, to keep them, fight for them, don’t stop loving them because everyone else is telling you (unless of course that person is toxic). But I don’t think I can give you solid love advice through a dumb book. Every relationship is different, and your Dad’s better at this than me anyways.

I don’t know exactly how long this thing is, by this point, but I’ve almost finished the pages of this booklet. I was really, really worried I wouldn’t finish it in time, but here we are. However many thousand words later, and I’m clueless as to how to wrap this up.

My life isn’t over yet, however it looks like it soon will be. I will confess to you, I’m scared, but most of all I’m angry. I’m angry at the world, at life and fate, if that’s even a thing, at God even. I’ve fought my whole life for peace and quiet, and right when I have found it, it’s being ripped from under my feet. Cancer fucking sucks.

No matter, my chin is up, and so are my fists. Winchesters don’t give up easy. I will fight this until my last breath, even if the chance of watching you grow up and being able to tell you everything I’ve written face-to-face, is nothing but a sliver. After all, impossible odds were always my favorite.

Sweetheart… I don’t know what to say. This might be the only thing you have left of me for the rest of your life, and it tears me up inside. Of course, I will not be able to write thirty five years of experience in a small book such as this, but this is a part of me, memories you can keep all to yourself. Ask Dad or Sam about any of it, I’m sure they’ll fill some gaps, tell you things I haven’t written.

I don’t want you to cry much, even though I’m not sure you will at all, given the fact that you’ve never met me. Either way, whether you feel or think anything of me or not, I want you to know that I love you so much. I’ve only known you for a couple of months, and, already, you’re the brightest ray of sunshine in my life.

I promise I will be by your side no matter what happens, through every milestone and hardship, I will love you from wherever I am.

Honey, please stay true to yourself. Never give up, no matter what curveballs life throws at you. There’s always reason to keep going, even if you can’t see it. Always keep fighting, ‘till your last breath, ‘cause you’re a Winchester and you’ve absolutely got this.

If there is something I want you to remember from the scribbly mess I’ve made, it’s this:

I love you. I’m proud of you. I believe in you.

Go get ‘em, tiger.

Bonus:

Tears streaming down velvety soft cheeks, dainty fingers gripping the book tightly, like her life depends on it, Hannah stares at the ceiling and groans at the mess she is. It’s the second time she read that last bit, and just as she thought she’d gotten over it, here she is, crying just as hard as the first.

She gets off her bed, pulling on her sweater sleeves. Feet in slippers, she makes her way down the corridor, knocking on the door, and opening when she gets an answer. Her fingers grip the doorknob, the other clutching the book, and she stares at the bed, watching as green eyes look up from his laptop.

“Why did you give this to me, you ass, you’re not dead,” she sobs, and Dean pushes his laptop to the side, arms opening wide to invite her in them.

“Aw honey,” he coos, a gentle, loving smile on his face. Hannah climbs on the bed and slides to his side, curling up in his arms. “It’s okay.” Fingers stroking her hair gently, as sobs wrack through the poor girl’s body. Dean almost feels bad.

Just then, Cas appears in the doorway, having heard Hannah’s cries. He sees the booklet clutched in her arms, her face buried in Dean’s neck, hidden behind her spring-curly hair. He makes eye contact with his husband, a knowing half-smile on his lips, as he leans on the doorway.

“I love you,” Hannah says, nose stuffed and running. “Thank you for not giving up on a relationship with me, even when you didn’t think you’ll survive.” Tears wet Dean’s eyes, as he presses a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I love you too.”

#dean fluff #dean angst #destiel #daddy!dean #destiel dads #supernatural au #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn angst #spn fluff #oc

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years

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Taphophobia - Dean x Reader (One Shot)

A/N: Okay, this is going a little slow. But, seems to be going still. I have this edited piece, and then at least one drabble to post before I crash. As usual, feedback is always incredible. I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse. Phobias. Being buried alive. Reader death. Nothing but angst.

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

“What's your biggest fear?” The air chilled around you and Dean. Fogging up the breath you let out into the night. Sixteen years old, and too many cares in the world.

Hunting did that to a person. Aged them young. You both felt as if you were forty. Weighed down by the weight of others' lives.

“My biggest fear?” He passed over the whiskey, and leaned back against the tree behind him. Humming a bit as he thought. Looking up at the moon as you rolled up the sleeves to his jacket over your own arms. “I don't know...I guess...” The Winchester inhaled deeply, trying to settle on one as you took a swig. “I guess being alone.” His lips tightened as he dwelled on it for a moment. “Yeah, I think that's it. Sammy...he's already talkin' college. And being left with dad...”

“Being alone sounds less scary than being left alone with John,” You shuddered at the very idea. Thinking of the bruises that had been known to line Dean's body.

He told everyone it was monsters. Always had. Yet, you knew better. A drunk, angry John Winchester was a force to be reckoned with. Dean rarely came out on top. But, he took it so you and Sam never had to. Always had been, and always would be, your hero.

“At least he's familiar,” The green eyes turned towards you. Trying to see the positive.

However, he must not have been able to. They widened as he imagined life alone with his father. Silently asking that you didn't leave him to face the reality. Didn't force him to make the choice between facing the emptiness he was so scared of, and the harsh life he'd live with only John by his side.

“Yeah...I get that.” The words seemed to relax him a little more. Letting a deep, heavy sigh leave the boy that carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Your own parents had been killed six years prior. You'd just been a kid. So had Dean. The only reason John had allowed you to join the crew was so that Sam was never left on his own. Unfair? Perhaps, but that's how things were.

The Winchesters were all you had. If it came down to choosing John over nothing? You'd choose the abuse. As sad and lonely as it would be. Anything to be close to the memories of Sam and Dean.

“Now, what about you?” Dean's brow rose. Asking you to dig deep. You took another large swig in response. Letting the burn down your throat give you strength. “That bad?”

“It just freaks me out,” You shuddered, passing over the bottle for Dean to finish. Wincing a bit at the after taste. “You know I don't like small spaces?” An easy nod was his answer.

It was no secret. Hiding away, in the back of a closet was the first thing you were able to remember. Listening to the screams of your family. Hearing the roar of the wolf that had tore their beating hearts from their bodies. That kind of thing left scars.

Maybe even more than holding a baby brother while everything burned had impacted Dean. At least he hadn't been able to see Mary on the ceiling. You could see the flash of blood through the panel's cracks. See the bodies being thrown.

John had tossed you in a coat closet, once. His version of a fitting punishment. For simply grabbing his fist before it could hit the squared jaw of the oldest boy.

While you were in there, you could hear John raving. Words slurring as he tore Dean a new one verbally. Not even caring that Sam would be witness for once. Too deep in the drink and grief to care, anymore.

When Dean had opened up the door, the damage had been done. Eleven years old, and mentally broken. Tears trailed down your face as the heavy panting left your parted lips. Too trapped in the memories to move.

The older brother had to crawl in next to you. Drained and all, he'd helped you ground yourself enough to walk away. To plaster a smile on your face to tell the youngest that everything would be okay.

“Just small spaces?” His brow furrowed at that. Remembering it all. Wondering, not for the first time, just how damaged his father had left you.

“Almost,” You shrugged, tugging Dean's leather jacket closer around your body. Needing that sense of security as you faced what haunted your dreams. “Being buried alive.” His head tilted a bit as you explained. “There's the small space, for one. The lack of control that comes with it. You can't escape...it isn't slow, either. You have time to panic. To try and claw your way to safety...but, in the end? There's not a thing you can do.”

Every nightmare you'd ever had stared back at you. There wasn't a thing you hadn't imagined. The terror that came with it sank into your bones.

“Come here,” Dean tugged you closer, holding you under his strong grasp. His chin rested along your scalp. “Let's think about something more positive, alright? I'm kinda sick of all the doom and gloom.” Sick of seeing your unease. He wanted you happy. Safe.

As you nodded, his lips dropped to press against your temple. Telling you how much you meant to him without words. A gentle squeeze pulled some of the tension from your body. Trusting him to keep you secure. After all, he always had.

–

“Where is she?” Dean growled out, stalking forward with fury in his green eyes. The male witch was shoved backwards by his throat.

There was no fear present in his face. No remorse. Simply amusement. As if he got off on causing pain.

“You aren't going to make it in time,” The being bit out gleefully. Looking up at the hunter with a smug grin. It didn't fade when the solid fist slammed into his head. If anything, it only grew stronger despite the blood dripping down his chin. “She had six hours...if she's lucky.”

“You better hope you're wrong.” Magic stalling cuffs held him captive. Leaving Dean time to play. Time he didn't have.

Every minute ticked by faster and faster. Making the Winchester more desperate with each click from the clock. Torture was a trick he'd learned to keep under wraps. However, he had no problem placing each cut into the unmarred skin of the witch. Ensuring that his pain would be too much to bear. Sure enough, it worked. “She's buried,” The bloodied being hissed out, arching against his restraints. “But, that's all you're getting from me, Winchester.”

“You did what?” The hunter roared, grabbing the man by his collar. His stomach twisting at the thought. He could hear your voice from all those years ago. Echoing in his head as his fist slammed into the smug face. Over and over again. Not caring if the witch was dead, or just unconscious. It was only the thought of time running low that pulled him away. “Sammy?” Dean was on the move as he called his brother. “We need to get some shovels. Start looking for any disturbed ground.”

“Why?” The younger man's voice cracked in fear. He had reason to be terrified. There was only minutes left. If you were lucky.

“The bastard threw her in the dirt,” Dean bit out, already on the prowl. Needing to fix everything. To save you. “We've got two acres to cover. He figured six hours, Sam...”

“Dean...what if-”

“Don't say it.” The biting tone ended the thought before it could escape. Terror squeezed at his heart. It was if he was feeling what you were. Suddenly his lungs burned. “We're going to make it in time. We have to, Sammy.”

“I'll meet you around back,” Sam stated softly. Almost as though he felt it was hopeless. Dean ended the call with a slam. Refusing to buy into the negativity.

It would be okay. You would be fine. You had to be.

Ten minutes. Twenty. By thirty, Dean was coated in sweat. His heart raced as he desperately searched over the ground.

Then, he saw it. The disturbed dirt was nestled beside a tree. At the very end of the property.

“Sam!” He shouted, already on the move. By the time his brother made it to his side, the flannel had been discarded. A large dent in the top started.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, taking in the size of the hole. There was little mistaking what rested underneath the dirt.

Neither brother said a word from that point on. Too afraid to do more than shovel. And pray that everything would be fine. Miracles happened every day. If anyone was due for one, it was you. Holding onto that thought, the dug until their muscles ached.

They'd ripped open a million graves in their life time. But this time? They were digging up yours. And it made all of the difference. What would usually take hours, and breaks only took them a fraction of the time.

You were down to seconds as Dean threw the final layer of dirt out with his bare hands. Exposing the shiny coffin that had been reported missing eight hours before. The witch had planned on nabbing one of them. You'd just happened to be in the way.

“Y/N!” He yelled out, yanking it open. There was no sound outside of their harsh breathing. You didn't move- didn't react- as the light hit your face. The color was leeched from your skin. “Y/N?” The broken crack left Dean as he stared. Trying to see movement. Anything to tell him you were okay. There was no fluttering of your eyelashes. No twitch in your limbs. Not even the rise and fall of your chest. “No,” He whispered; his eyes filling with the water he'd been fighting so hard to repress. “No...god, please...no.” He was lunging at you, then. Checking for your pulse. Even knowing that there would be none. “Damn it, Y/N...” Dean bit out, moving his hands to yours to begin chest compressions. “You can't leave me, okay? Not like this.” You didn't answer as he slammed his hands over your sternum rapidly. He bent over, pinching your nose before breathing into your parted lips.

Sam watched as his brother lost it. The tears slipped down the dirt covered skin only to land on your body. Cracking filled the air as the force of his will broke your ribs. But, there was no in drawn breath.

Fifteen minutes passed before the younger brother couldn't take anymore, “Dean...” Yet, the older brother didn't stop. Begging you quietly through gritted teeth to open those E/C eyes inside that coffin. “I...I think she's gone.” Sam's voice cracked, watching the scene unfold helplessly.

“She can't be,” Dean hissed out, starting to slow. His arms burned. The breath leaving his lips was ragged. Sweat trailed lines across his grey t-shirt and dirt coated skin. But, none of that mattered. Not so long as your chest didn't rise on its own.

“Dean-”

“No!” He shouted back. Voice hard and filled with threats of violence if anything got between him and you. “She's alive, damn it. She has to be...I have...I have to save her.” But that time, his movements ceased. It was beginning to sink in. “I...” His words ended as he looked down at the blue tint to your skin. There was no coming back. Your nails were ripped to shreds. Hands raw and bloody from your attempts to dig the coffin open. The material above your head was shredded. You'd fought til the end, he was sure. “Y/N?” The finality of it sunk in when you didn't respond. He lost it in earnest, then. “I...I...I'm...I'm so...so s...sorry, sweetheart.” His fingers ran through your hair, gently. Shaking as a broken sob left him. Sam could only sit back and watch as his brother mourned the love of his life.

It was daylight by the time he managed to pull himself away to begin building a pyre. The younger brother had it over half done. Preparing to give you a hunter's funeral. It felt more right. You had never been scared of fire.

Dean carried your body to the pile; kissing the cold forehead as he'd set you up on the wooden stand. When he'd pulled away, he willed you to move. Anything to tell him it was all a bad dream. That he was making a mistake.

There was nothing. With a defeated sigh, he stepped back. A small crack sounded, making him jerk down to the noise. Your phone rested on the ground, underneath his boot.

You'd never felt the need for that kind of privacy a password offered. He swiped the screen. Preparing to shut it off. Only, the sight of a sending message caught his attention.

An audio file glared up at him. Daring him to listen. Slowly, he pressed play. Raising it to his ear.

“Dean...I don't know if I have much time left,” Your voice shook into the phone's speaker. Dean looked over to the pile your covered body rested in. Forcing himself to remember that he wasn't hearing you in that moment. “I shouldn't be talking... It uses the air faster...I...I know that.” The broken edge that followed let him know that you were crying. “But, I'm getting tired...” He swallowed tightly; his eyes beginning to water at the anguish he was hearing. Dean had thought he'd been out of tears. He'd never been more wrong. “And I'm scared...” He'd known you would have been. But, hearing the words tore through him even more. “So...so scared.” A sniffle followed, “It's okay, though...” You swallowed tightly, trying to compose yourself. “Because...I know...I know this means...means that you're safe. He didn't get to you, first.” A weak laugh left your lips. As if that made everything alright, again. “And I know you won't be alone.” A thud sounded as your elbow hit the lid. He could picture you trying to wipe away the tears. His heart squeezed at the message. “Sammy's home, now.” The shakiness as you fought to remain strong was apparent. Not for yourself. But, for him. “He'll stay with you...If...If he doesn't, I'll haunt him. Burned body be damned.” You coughed, then. The air thickening the more you talked. There must have been some fight left in you. The beating of your fists could be heard before another sob, and a broken cry escaped. He hated the sound of it, but clung to the fact that you hadn't been completely resigned to your fate. You had been strong. If only it had been enough. “I just...I love you, okay?” You came back to your senses, for a moment. Remembering your mission. “I know...I know I say it a lot...but, I needed you to hear it right...right now.” Another sniff left you as you repressed the tears for a moment longer. “This isn't your fault, Dean...this...I'm...I'm okay with...with this being it...if..if it is.” Your final, gasping words that he'd ever hear had him dropping to his knees, “You're not alone, Dean...You're not...not gonna be all alone. I promise...That's what matters, alright? You're...you're not alone.”

The message ended, then. Leaving him to realize that your biggest fear hadn't truly been being buried alive, after all. You'd been trapped in that coffin. Facing the thing that you had claimed to be the one thing you couldn't handle. But, in the end? It had been something much deeper.

Your biggest fear had been that Dean would be, or feel, all alone. And have to face what you'd both been terrified of with it. The thing that he hadn't realized? His biggest fear hadn't truly been being alone. It had simply been being without you...

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

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lilulo-12 · 5 years

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In My Time of Dying-1

Because I totally need to start another story right???

This is another Supernatural story because I’m obsessed and we know how I love my OC’s. I use OC’s because I hate using “Y/N” and I need to be able to use details. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I suck at summaries! This is an original character story- Alianna Winchester, twin sister of Sam. It starts off right around when Dean comes back from hell. Ali and Sam’s relationship has been fractured since he left for Stanford. She struggles to repair their relationship has they navigate the Apocalypse, her close relationship with Dean and beyond. Like Sam- She is special in a very different way. Truly the Ying to his Yang that causes a deep connection between Ali and Castiel.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!

Masterlist

Then:

“Ali, come on. Come with me to Stanford. Don’t stay here with him, on the road. You deserve so much better than this life.” Sam pleaded with his sister. She was the spitting image of their mother. Sam only knew by the pictures he had seen. Her wavy blonde hair spilled down her back. She had striking grey eyes. When she was upset, the flecks of gold stood out, like they were now.

“Sam, it’s not about him. It’s about Dean. I’m not leaving him.” Sam’s stomach felt hollow from the pit in it. He always teased her about being the baby of the family, she was only about 2 minutes younger than him. They had been together every day, before their lives even started. He didn’t want to be without her now. Alianna had her bottom lip under her teeth as she stared at her brother. She was the rose between the two Winchester thorns.

Sam tried to squash his jealousy. They had been a pair, they were close. They had their own language when they were kids, but to his sister, Dean hung the moon. She adored him and Dean doted on her more than he did Sam, if it was possible. She wouldn’t leave him. Sam knew that deep down. Sam also knew that Dean needed her now more than Sam would.

Ali clasped her hand over her mouth to choke back her sob as she watch Sam get further and further away. Once he was out of her sight she squatted and buried her face in her hands and sobbed, getting it out of her system before she went back into the motel. She didn’t want John to see her break. She knew how upset her father was. If he thought Sam had made her cry, it would have been worse.

She was a Daddy’s girl. John and Mary had been surprised by Ali. They hadn’t expected twins. They struggled naming her as Sam and Dean had been named for Mary’s parents. John had always loved the name Ali, so they incorporated part of Deanna’s name to continue the tradition. John had loved his sons, but he had been a goner the moment he held his daughter. Even now, she could soften the harsh hunter.

She heard the door to the motel room slam. She whipped around and saw her father jump into the Impala, undoubtedly headed to the bar. He didn’t notice her standing there. Her broken heart fell to a few more pieces. He and Sam had a difficult relationship. She hated it. Sam was half of her soul, but she adored her father, faults and all. She had to find a way to make John understand. A moment after John left, Dean stepped outside.

“Ali?” He called out to her. She didn’t try to hide her tears from him. He came rushing outside and wrapped her in his arms and let her cry. And she cried until it felt like she didn’t have any tears left. Sam was gone. Her other half was gone. She felt alone for the first time in her life.

“You didn’t go with him?” Dean finally asked. “I was sure that you would have packed a bag and gone too.”

“Not without you. Sam...he’ll be fine. On his own he’ll be just fine. But you and me? We’re more alike than Sam and I. We need to stick together. I just have to hope that someday he’ll come back.” Dean pressed a kiss to her forehead and then ushered her into the room.

Now:

Ali rubbed her forehead in confusion. Dean was alive. He was back from the dead. Back from hell. How was he back from hell? She watched as Bobby ran him through the gamut of tests to prove that he was, in fact, Dean. She covered her mouth and choked back a sob of relief. Once Bobby was satisfied, he stepped out of the way so Dean could pull Ali into his arms and hug her. She had never felt relief like this. She had never been as devastated as she had been when she watched Dean be ripped to shreds.

”Where’s Sammy?” it finally registered in his mind that his two siblings weren't together.

”I don't know.” Ali finally admitted after struggling to find the words.

”What do you mean you don't know?” She took a deep breath as Dean watched a variety of emotions cross her face.

“I was here, researching ways to get you back while he was out there searching. Then he vanished. I couldn’t find him. He didn’t want me or need me. I didn’t know what to do, so I stayed here, hoping he’d come back. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You should have stayed together!” Ali stepped away from her brother and his harsh tone. Bobby watched her visibly flinch.

“He’s the one that ran off without me.” Dean’s eyes were burning into hers. “You should have gone with him in the first place.”

“Dean! He didn’t want me with him! He asked me to stay here. I thought he needed space. He blames himself and he wanted to be effective in trying to get you back. I didn’t want to argue with him. So I lost you and then I lost him. I’ve been alone while Sam has been doing God knows what. I’m sorry. I should have done better. I’m sorry.” She was crying again. All she did for 4 months was cry. She wrapped her arms around herself and left the room and headed outside to get some air.

She heard Bobby yelling at Dean, but she was a failure. She couldn’t save her father and she couldn’t save Dean. Sam didn’t want her because she was useless. She had a feeling Ruby had slithered her way back to Sam. She was far more valuable to Sam. Ruby could do things. Even the crossroads demons knew how useless she was. She sunk to her knees trying to figure out the precise moment their lives went to shit. There were too many to choose from. She held her face in her hands in the middle of the lot and cried. Her heart physically ached. It was overwhelming. The last time she felt this bad was when Sam had left for Stanford. Loosing John had been devastating, but it meant she kept Dean. Her father begged her not to be sad and to protect Dean. She couldn’t even do that. She felt her brother kneeling in front of her.

“Al...Ali...c’mon look at me.” He Was begging, but she couldn’t look him in the eyes. She let him down too. She was supposed to take care of Sam and she couldn’t do that either. She finally pulled her hands away and wiped her eyes and looked at Dean. The fury and disappointment had melted into something softer. She held her hand up to him when he tried to speak.

“I wanted to keep him close. Keep him safe. He didn’t want me. I failed him and I failed Dad. I was supposed to keep you safe. I tried to get you back. I begged every last crossroad demon to take me and bring you back. Sam needs you more than me. The world needs you more than me. They didn’t want me. They said it wasn’t even a fair trade. I’m weak.” She watches the anger return to his face.

“Dammit Alianna! You tried to take my place? I couldn’t, I wouldn’t...You’re too good to be in hell. You hear me? You’re too pure. That’s why they didn’t want you. You are the best of all of us. They wouldn’t have been able to break you. They knew that. So they hurt you by making you think you were unworthy. It’s not true. I couldn’t have lived knowing you were down there for me. And Sam left because he’s undoubtedly doing some fucked up shit trying to get to me and he doesn’t want you to know. You being disappointed in him is worse than anything Dad ever threw at him.” Dean put his hand on the side of her face and made her look him in the eye. “It’s not your job to protect me. Dad was afraid of what would happen with Sam. He knew you would be the only one that could pull him back. We may still need to do that. It’s MY job to protect YOU. I’m sorry I got angry.” Ali nodded her head and Dean pulled her into a bone crushing hug. “Let’s go find our idiot brother.”

Then: Sam ran down the stairs as the pounding on his door got louder.

“Jesus...I’m coming, calm down.” He whipped the door open l, his irritation melting as he saw the tears pouring down his sister’s face. “Ali...what the hell happened, are you okay?”

“Dad....he found out.” Sam pulled her into his house shutting the door behind her. He sat her down on the couch and grabbed her a glass of water. It took about a half hour to calm her down before she could speak.

“How did he find out?”

“He and Dean finished the hunt early and walked in on us kissing. He doesn’t understand. I think if it was one or the other maybe he wouldn’t have freaked.” Sam clenched his jaw.

“Ali, don’t make excuses for him. We’re in the 21st century. There isn’t anything wrong with being bisexual. Nothing. Do you hear me? All it means is that you love without bounds. You love someone for who they are, not what they are.” Ali rested her head on Sam’s shoulder.

“I wish you had never left. But I know you had to. I didn’t think I could leave. But now I don’t know if I can go back.”

“What did Dean say?”

“He tried to stop Dad from freaking out. But you know how he is with Dad. But he made sure I could get here safe. I should actually call him and let him know I’m okay.”

“He should have driven you here himself.”

“Sam, don’t. He’s doing the best he can. I won’t put him in the middle.”

“You gonna stay?” Sam was afraid to ask.

“For a while anyway. I miss you.” He smiled at her and led her upstairs to the spare bedroom. Jess was standing at the top of the stairs and hugged Ali when she got to the top.

She stayed for a few weeks until John convinced her to come back. Sam followed her out to the car trying to convince her to stay.

“Sammy, he apologized. It took him by surprise and it was a rough hunt. I’m not made for the life you have here. I need to be on the road. I need to keep moving.”

“What are you running from Ali?” Sam watched her eyes fill with tears and she looked away for a moment to compose herself.

“Nothing, everything? Myself? I don’t know Sam. But I can’t stay here. I love you, more than anything. I miss you so much it physically hurts. But me staying here? I can’t. Be happy Sam. Be happy with Jess. You deserve to be happy.”

“So do you.”

“Will you settle for Happyish?”

“For now. Call me when you meet up with them. Call me before. Just...call me more often than you have been. Just because I left hunting doesn’t mean I left you. I know Dad is dad, but come see me more.” Ali wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly and he rested his chin on top of her head. “I promise Sammy.” And then she was gone.

Now:

The girl that had been in Sam’s hotel room was bugging Ali. She wasn’t quite who Sam was leading them to believe. She could feel it deep down, but she didn’t want to ask Sam in front of Dean and Bobby. Regardless of how pissed she was at him, she wouldn’t throw him under the bus. He had given up on saving Dean and was hunting Lilith, he didn’t even tell her. Ali felt a fire in her belly that hadn’t been there in a while. The anger pushed away the melancholy and it felt good.

The anger was mixed with guilt over what happened with Pamela. Pam had found out the name of whatever it was that had rescued Dean. Castiel. It didn’t sound like the name of a demon. And why would a demon rescue Dean? The lot of them had been thrilled to hold another Winchester, especially after John’s escape.

Ali listened quietly as Bobby and Dean went back and forth on whether or not they should tell Sam they were going to try and summon Castiel.

“You’re awfully quiet back there, in fact you have been all day.” Bobby met her eyes in the rear view mirror.

“She’s stewing Bobby. She’s pissed at Sam and she’s heating it up. She’ll blow her top soon.” Ali gave him a dirty look.

“I’m with Dean. Leave Sam out of it.” Bobby shook his head and continued down the road.

Ali looked around the warehouse at all of the symbols Bobby had put up. She was ignoring Dean and Bobby’s banter when she felt the warehouse start to shake. She grabbed Dean’s arm to steady herself.

“Wishful thinking, but maybe it’s just the wind?” Dean’s comment made her crack a smile, which quickly faded when she saw what appeared to be a man in a suit and trench coat enter the warehouse. She saw Dean grab the demon knife out of the corner of her eye as he approached.

“Who are you?” Dean demanded.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” Ali raised her eyebrows. His voice had grit and was intimidating. Dean was standing half in front of Ali to protect her. While he came across as intimidating, she felt nothing but peace. Ali places her hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, it’s okay...” he either didn’t hear her or ignored her because he plunged the knife into his chest. Ali covered her mouth in shock as he pulled it out and dropped it to the floor and then stumbled back as Bobby attacked and before she knew what happened Castiel touched his fingers to Bobby’s forehead and he dropped to the ground. Castiel approached Ali and cocked his head to the side studying her.

“You are unexpected. I’m sorry but I need to speak with your brother alone.” He gently slid his hand onto her cheek and guided her to the ground as she slipped out of consciousness. Dean watched in confusion at how different he was towards his sister versus Bobby.

....“Dean...I think he’s telling the truth. I always get this feeling around demons. Intuition that they’re evil, I don’t know. But when he walked in, I just felt like we were going to be okay. I felt peace. And I mean...if he’ll exists, wouldn’t that mean heaven does too?” Dean scoffed.

“Don’t you think that if angels were real, that some hunter somewhere would have seen one...at some point...ever?”

“Yeah. You just did Dean.” Sam quipped back.

Ali sat deep in thought as Bobby, Dean and Sam continued to go back and forth. She believe Castiel. Dean was stubborn but she knew he would accept it eventually. The fact that an Angel was walking among them meant something big was coming their way.

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