Tag Archives: Ater Imber

Stay That Way

This is this years’ Christmas/holiday fic.

On Dec. 14th I will be uploading a New Years fic, and then the last post of the year on the following Monday. (Dec. 17th) I will then take a two week vacation from posting, and will return in January! (I’ll explain more in the post on Dec. 17th)


Wee!Chesters

Words: 2,111


“… What are you doing?”

“Uhm…” Sammy’s eyes went to the ground, cheeks flaring, “nothing.”

“Nothing?” Bobbys’ eyebrows went up, “That’s an awfully loud nothing,” his eyes drifted to the lump under the covers on the bed, “a pretty big lump, too.”

The kid swallowed thickly, eyes darting to the lump before back to the father-figure standing in the doorway, “W-what lump?”

Bobby chuckled, holding up his hands, “Okay, okay. Well you just let me know if you need any help with that nothing.”

“… Okay.”

Bobby re-closed the bedroom door, shaking his head as he made his way down the stairs, what is that boy up to? He went out to the backyard, picking up the paint spray gun and mask, just down burn down the house.

 

 

Bobby awoke startled, hearing a loud crash from the kitchen, what in the hell…? He was out of his chair in an instant, stalking his way over to the kitchen doors, hand on his gun, mentally running through the salt-line check he’d done before falling asleep.

He opened the door and sighed in relief as he saw the five-year old jump up from the floor.

“Jesus, Boy, you almost gave me a heart attack,” he leaned himself against the door, eyes roaming over the flour-covered counter, “Whatcha doing, Sammy?”

The brunette swallowed thickly and ‘hid’ a cookie sheet behind his back, eyes threatening to spill over with tears, “… Nothing,” at the mans’ eyebrow raise he sighed in defeat, bottom lip poking out, “I-I’ll clean it up…”

“Clean up?” Bobby craned his neck a bit so he could see over the counter and noted the un-cooked cookies that littered the floor, “Now why would you do that?”

Sammy blinked in surprise as Bobby got an apron out of the closet, “… What?”

Bobby’s heart broke, John what the hell have you done to this boy? He took the cookie sheet from the child and placed it on the counter, before winking, grabbing the mixing bowl, “We can’t let you destroy the kitchen for nothing.”

 

 

“Wow,” Sammy was practically laying on the counter, watching the cookies cool on a wire rack.

Bobby chuckled as he washed the last of the dishes, “You’d think you’d never seen a cookie before.”

“I’ve seen cookies,” he rolled his eyes, “I just can’t believe I made these!”

“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?”

“I know you helped but still…” he reached out to touch one, recoiling as it burnt his finger, “These look like real cookies. Like the ones you get at a store!” He turned to the older man, “I can’t believe we turned eggs and milk and all that stuff into these! It’s like magic!”

Bobby did his best to hold in his laughter, “Yeah, cooking is pretty cool.”

“Definitely,” he tilted his head a bit to the side, “… can making cookies be a job?”

“Yep,” Bobby leaned against the counter, taking a swig from his beer, “They’re called bakers.”

“Really?” his eyes went wide and he gave a thousand-watt smile, “That’s so cool! Do you think…” he bit his lip and averted his eyes, smile fading, “Do you think I could do that?”

“’Course.”

“But won’t Dad-”

“It doesn’t matter what John says,” he narrowly stopped himself from hitting the counter, “I mean,” he took a deep breath, “you should do whatever you want to do. Don’t worry if John doesn’t understand. Do what makes you happy.”

Sammy nodded before turning back to the cookies, “I want to make these every day!”

Bobby smiled, going over to ruffle his hair, “Then you do that.”

Just then, the boys heard a rumble from outside, the Impala.

Sammys’ face lit up again and he practically jumped off the counter, running to the front door, “They’re back!”

The brunette sped to the front hall before – much to Bobbys’ surprise – bee lining for the stairs, bedroom door slamming shut. Bobby looked after him for a moment before shaking his head as the front door opened, John bursting in, Dean in his arms.

That can’t be good, Bobby went to the kitchen, fetching the first aid kit, coming back as John placed Dean down on the couch. His face was set in a scowl, and he was covered head to toe in a mix of dirt and blood. Dean had a deep gash across his head that was oozing blood, glad Sammy decided to go upstairs.

“What happened?”

John shook his head, “He didn’t want to list-”

“John,” Bobby shot him a look as he pushed him away, kneeling down and beginning to clean the boys’ wound.

John let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he began pacing, eyes on the ground, “I told him not to go after it.”

“That’s great,” Bobby pushed the gauze harder against the wound, not liking that Dean didn’t even flinch, “What else?”

“What does it look like?” Johns’ hands balled into fists at his side, “The thing flung him halfway across the room, he only stopped cause he hit a wall. Head collided with the corner of a table on the way down.”

Bobby closed his eyes and grit his teeth, “He needs to go to the hospital.”

“No.”

“John-”

“I said no!”

“Do you want him to die?” Bobby stood, turning angry eyes on the other man, “Cause that’s what’s gonna happen if he stays here.”

John blinked in mild surprise, “You can’t stitch it?”

“He’s unconscious.”

John took a step toward him, getting close enough Bobby could smell the whisky on his breath, “Can. You. Stitch. It?”

Bobby used all the strength he had to not punch him in the face, “No.”

“Fuck,” John blew out a breath, eyeing his son, taking a small step back, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Go to the hospital.”

“We can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m still wanted for that skin-walker job, remember?”

Bobby grit his teeth, closing his eyes for a moment to think, “Fine. I’ll take him, you stay here with Sammy.”

John paled a bit at the mention of his other son but nodded. He watched as Bobby picked Dean up off the couch, helping to load him into the truck. Bobby hopped in before giving John a death glare, “Do not tell him about this.”

 

 

“Seriously, Bobby, I’m fine,” Dean swatted at his arm as he was easing himself out of the truck.

“Oh yeah, you pass out from blood loss and get a concussion every day,” the older man gave him a pointed look and kept his arms out for support.

“Pfft, you know what hunting’s like,” Dean successfully stood on the ground, and blinked, swaying slightly on the spot, “It’s always dangerous.”

“You’re not your father, Dean,” Bobby shut the truck door and trailed behind the blonde as they made their way to the front door, “also, you’re nine.”

“Exactly,” He climbed the steps, leaning heavily against the banister, “Time for me to grow up.”

Bobby rolled his eyes and unlocked the door, holding it open for the blonde, not surprised to see John was no longer in the living room, big surprise.

“Dean!”

A mess of brown hair launched itself at the blonde, nearly knocking him over. He caught Sammy easily, plastering a smile on his face, but Bobby didn’t miss the flash of dizziness.

“Wha-? Who’s this?” he brushed some of the hair from his brothers’ eyes, “Oh, Sammy! There you are!”

The youngest giggled and Bobby was amazed at how quickly the elder could switch into Big Brother Mode. He began walking them over to the couch, “So, Sammy, what have you been up to?”

The youngest looked like he was going to explode, “I made you something!” his expression fell as he noticed the bandage on the blondes’ head, “What happened?”

“Eh,” Dean waved a dismissive hand, “I’m fine. What did you make me? Is it…” he looked around the room, pretending to think, “A Tickle Monster?” he then threw the five-year-old onto the couch before all but tackling him, tickling his stomach.

The youngest let out a loud squeal, doing his best to wiggle away. John came out of the kitchen at the yell, and Bobby was mildly surprised to see he had showered. He hung back as he saw what was happening. The eldest Winchester leaned against the doorway next to Bobby, small smile on his face.

Sammy began gasping for breath after a few minutes, face going red.

“Dean.”

At the sound of his fathers’ voice, Dean immediately stopped, smile fading and he practically jumped up from the couch, puffing his chest out. A soldier ready for duty. Sammys’ gasps had also died down, eyes going straight to the floor, as if he were ashamed.

“Sammy,” Bobby nodded toward the kitchen, “why don’t you go get what you made Dean?”

He nodded, smile reappearing before zooming back up the stairs.

Dean turned confused eyes to the other men, “What is it?”

Bobby shrugged, “Last time I saw it, it was a giant lump under the covers.”

A small smile graced Deans’ face, and his cheeks flushed.

They saw the youngest stop at the top of the stairs, whatever it was carefully hidden behind his back, “Close your eyes!”

Dean rolled his eyes before closing them, “Okay! They’re closed!”

“I don’t believe you!”

Dean huffed, before opening them, giving Bobby and his father a look, “Little help?”

Bobby smirked, giving him a pointed look, “Well?” the blonde re-closed his eyes, “They’re closed, Sammy!”

The men watched as the youngest did his best to walk down the stairs without holding onto the hand rail. Whatever he made was big enough it needed his two hands to carry. He got to the bottom and carefully walked himself over, bringing the gift – that was carefully wrapped in red and white Christmas paper – out from behind his back.

“Hold out your hands,” upon doing so he placed the present in them, and chuckled as Deans’ arms fell a few inches, pretending it was heavy, “Okay, open.”

The blonde opened his eyes and let out a whistle, “You wrapped this?”

“Mhm,” Sammy was beaming, bouncing slightly where he stood, “Open it! Open it! Open it!”

“Okay, okay, geez,” Dean made his way back over to the couch, placing the present down on the coffee table.

He began unwrapping it slowly, brows knit together wondering what could be so heavy, before revealing a cardboard box.

He turned to his brother, “Wow, Sammy, it’s uhm…”

The youngest rolled his eyes, giving his brother a slight push, “It’s in the box, Dean.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.”

The blonde took his switch blade off his belt to open the box, prying the top open and peering inside, before letting out a small gasp. He reached into the box carefully, pulling out what looked to be a Lego version of their fathers’ Impala.

He turned his eyes to his brother, “What…? How did you…?”

“I built it!” Sammy was bouncing up and down, “I took all the black Legos I had from my other sets and built it,” he flung his arms around his brother, “Now you have one, too!”

“I can’t believe this…” Deans’ eyes drifted back down to the present he was holding, face stunned, “This is… amazing, thank-you.”

“Is that what you were doing up in your room all week?”

The youngest gave Bobby a nod before turning back to his brother, “You like it?”

“I love it,” Dean held the car up to his face, inspecting it, “You even got the license plate right!”

“Good job, Sammy,” Bobby went to sit on the arm of the couch, “Now that kitchen mess makes more sense.”

“Oh!” Sammy smacked his head, before running into the kitchen, “I forgot the best part!”

Dean starred after him, “There’s more?”

Bobby winked, “I helped with this part.”

The youngest returned a moment later with the cookies he and Bobby had made, placing the plate down on the table next to the car.

Dean looked over the cookies and chuckled, “Are these supposed to be us?”

Sammy nodded his head excitedly before removing one of the door Legos from the side of the car, placing one of the cookies into the driver side, “Look! They fit inside, too!”

“Wow, Sammy, that’s so cool!” Dean wrapped his brother up in a bear hug, “You’re one smart kid, y’know that?”

“I know!”

“This is great, Sammy,” he turned his eyes to the plate of cookies, eyes widening slightly, “I just have one question.”

“What?”

His stomach grumbled then, as if on cue, “Does that mean I can’t eat the cookies?”


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Top 5 Pros/Cons of Working From Home

You don’t have to get up early every morning, deal with rush hour, you’re your own boss, you get to work on your schedule. What could be better, right?

Wrong.

It’s not all sunshine and good times. Working from home is actually a giant pain in the ass. It’s one of those things you love-hate. On the one hand it can get pretty stressful/hectic, especially because you’re trying to do everything, but on the other there is no way in hell you would trade the stress for a ‘regular’ 9-5. I’m not saying it can’t be great, but there is much more to it then what meets the eye.

Below are my Top 5 pro’s/con’s of working from home:

#1: You’re Your Own Boss

This is absolutely the number one best and worst thing about working from home. Being your own boss means you don’t have anybody to answer to. Sure, this means that if you forget a deadline you won’t get yelled at, and you have the freedom to move said deadline to whatever you want. But the flipside is: you have no one to answer to.

Nobody’s going to hold you accountable for missing a post, not writing an article, skipping a day because you’re bored/lazy/just don’t want to. There’s nobody else writing articles for you, scheduling your social media – basically nobody’s there to save your ass. If you aren’t doing it it’s not getting done. No matter how much you wish it would do it by itself, you have to dedicate a bit of time to everything in order to keep things running. And, trust me, when you really sit down and start trying to plan all the things you want to accomplish, things can get stressful very fast. I’m not saying it’ll all fall apart and all your readers will leave if you miss one post, but they’ll at least be disappointed if it doesn’t come.

Think that doesn’t apply because you’re just starting out and don’t have anyone looking at your stuff? Not quite. If you’re just starting out, sure it can be tempting to not post if you don’t feel like it because nobody’s watching, but if you want to grow and get people to start looking at your stuff, you’re gonna have to post at least somewhat consistently.

#2: It’s Hard To Detach

Another big con is that since you’re already home, it might take you longer to get out of Work Mode. Also, since you work from home, even when you do decide to relax/shut it down for the night/take a day off, the temptation is always there, and you might find yourself feeling guilty during your days off for ‘slacking off’. It’s tempting to say, ‘my laptop/notebook, etc is just upstairs/in the other room, I should be working, not wasting time doing nothing.’This is something I’m certainly guilty of.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m a writer or what, but I always feel like I’m ‘on’ anyway, whether it’s scanning crowds of people for character descriptions, accidentally listening a bit too hard to that conversation on the subway for a funny line I could put in a story, or running over whatever plot-line I’ve been stuck on when I’m supposed to be not thinking about work – I feel like writers/singers/artists are in a weird state of limbo between working and not working that ‘regular people’ just don’t understand. Our jobs while amazing, make it hard to truly turn off Work Mode.

We’re constantly scanning our life for inspiration, which makes it hard to truly be done at 5pm like most other jobs. Most other jobs you go to the office, work on whatever and then punch out at a certain time. For artists that’s not really an option. It also makes it hard to find the line between ‘I’ve worked enough today’ and ‘I should be cramming as much work as I possibly can into each day because I work from home’.

Is there any fix for this? Not really. It’s always gonna be hard to detach from work, but one thing that might help is trying to put some sort of organization/structure to your work.

For example, I post on my website every two weeks, on Fridays and Mondays, so I try to break up my weeks like this:

Week 1 (Non-Post Week)

  • Search for/work on freelance work
  • Begin new articles/stories for next week
  • Finish at least 2 (other) short stories/articles (to throw in The Vault [so their ready for other weeks])
  • Work on upcoming novel/books
  • Think/Begin new designs for merch
  • Schedule posts for social media (usually done on weekends)

Week 2 (Post Week)

  • Make sure article/short story for this week are done
  • Schedule posts for respective days
  • Finish merch design/s from previous week and add to store
  • Keep working on/finish other short stories/articles from last week
  • Schedule social media posts

If you give yourself some sort of structure like this, it should help ease your guilt when you decide to call it a day, because then you can at least say you ticked off everything you wanted to get done. If you organize everything you need/want to get done, it can also help manage your stress, instead of trying to do everything at once, once you write it all out, you can sort it into whatever you feel are your top priorities and work on those first.

And, this of course you should make sure to schedule days off for yourself as well. I like to keep it simple, and stick with having the weekends ‘off’. (I do ‘easy’ stuff on these days, like photoshop) You can’t constantly be working all day every day – seriously, look it up, it’s bad for your health. Make sure to cut yourself a break every once in a while. You’re the boss, you’re allowed. (Just don’t give yourself too many days off)

#3: Ignoring The People Around You

In this same line of reasoning, with it being hard to detach, it’s not just hard on you. The people around you can feel jaded when you’re constantly blowing them off to work, or, if they work all day, come in and you’re still working. It can feel like you’re actively ignoring them in favour of work. While that might not be your intention, it can (and will) start to wear on those around you if you can’t find a dedicated ‘stopping time’.

I personally have had conversations with the people in my life about this issue. Now that it’s been brought to my attention, I try not to do that, but it’s not always that simple. Sometimes it’s hard to stick to my self-imposed ‘quitting time’, especially if I’m on a writing roll, or, if it’s someone’s day off. That’s when I feel really guilty.

Also, I feel like sometimes they assume since you work from home and you can do it whenever, (especially when you’re just starting out) and they might not see why it’s so important this thing gets done on a certain day. Stick to your guns on this. Sit them down and explain why this is important, and what you need from them first.

While it’s tempting to give in, it’s also important you talk to the people around you so they understand exactly why you have to do things the way you say, and why it’s important you don’t skip the work days.

#4: You Can Focus On What You Want

A giant plus of being your own boss? You get to push your blog/business in whatever direction you want. You want to write about why puppies aren’t really that cute? You can. Why ‘not all men’ say ___? Go for it. You don’t really like cake? Sure, that works too.

One of the biggest pro’s is that you don’t have to write/focus/dedicate your time to someone else’s vision/dream – it’s all you all the time. Whether or not you’re 100% sure of where you’re going doesn’t matter, as long as you’re pushing forward.

Nobody likes writing about a topic they don’t like (or worse, have the opposite view-point on) and working from home gives you the freedom to write what you want, how you want.

#5: You Can Work In Your PJ’s

Definitely one of my favourite things in life is getting to get up and not have to wear any uncomfortable ‘work’ clothes to get my sh*t done. Nobody sees me so if I don’t wanna get dressed? No problem, I can type in just about anything, pj’s included.

I don’t recommend doing this all the time, but every once in a while it’s nice to literally roll out of bed and then get to work. I usually do this once every few Fridays, since it’s the end of the week, it’s kind of like my version of Casual Fridays. It also helps to get some of the stress of the rest of the week out of my head. Pj’s are comfy, so they fit perfectly with the ‘do some work’ vibe I get on Fridays, instead of the ‘try to do everything in the universe’ of the rest of the week.


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Project: Soak

Written: 18.09.06

Words: 1,207

Gen.


“Cas, duck!” Dean spun around, firing off a shot in the space the angels’ head had just occupied.

The blonde dropped to his knees behind the rock, reloading, man, they are relentless!

Cas crouch-ran over to where the hunter was, “We’re surrounded!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean craned his neck to look around the rock, pulling back as a shot was fired in his direction, he scanned the half of the park that was behind them, why are parks always so open?

He saw a lone tree a few feet away from them, is it big enough to hide both of us? He turned to Cas, who was hiding completely behind the rock, head between his knees, gun laying on the ground next to him.

Why do I bother? The blonde shook his head and tapped him, pointing, “See that tree? We’re gonna run to it. Think you can manage?”

Cas starred blankly at the tree for a second before nodding, “We’ll fit there.”

In the next instant, the two men were behind the tree. Dean blinked, head spinning from the sudden movement before turning to Cas, bewildered and slightly queasy, “You can still teleport?”

The angel looked at the hunter like he was stupid, “Of course.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Do you know how useful that would’ve been-” he cut himself off, shaking his head, “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

Dean peered around the trunk, noting the two men were still heading toward the rock they were just behind. Good, maybe now we’ll have a bit of time to- “Cas!” Dean knocked the gun from the angels’ hand, “What the hells’ wrong with you?”

“What?” Cas frowned, looking like a child, “You gave me the gun!”

“You weren’t supposed to shoot from here. You just gave away our position,” The blonde checked around the trunk again and, of fucking course, the two men were running full speed toward them.

“Can you teleport us out of here?”

At the lack of response the blonde turned to the man on his right, you’ve gotten be kidding, “A butterfly? Really, Cas?”

The angel held up his finger in triumph, “They’re endangered, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know they’re-” Dean huffed, chancing another look around tree, mentally cursing as the two men were nowhere in sight. He turned back to the angel, “Can you teleport us out of here?”

The angel turned surprised eyes to the hunter, did he forget I was here? He sighed before gently blowing the butterfly off his finger, “Wouldn’t that be cheating? You said not to use my powers.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Now you listen? Okay, look,” he checked around the tree, men still nowhere in sight, “it’s not cheating if we don’t have any other options. And since we’re cornered-” a shot hit the tree, nearly hitting Dean in the head. He let out a whistle and shot back, “anytime you’re ready, Princess.”

Cas’ brows furrowed for a moment before he sighed, placing his hand on the hunters’ shoulder.

Deans’ knees buckled against the ground as they landed. He looked around, no longer hearing the sounds of the park, home? He sighed and turned to the angel, “Damn it, Cas!”

“You’re welcome,” the angel slipped his trench-coat off on his way to the kitchen.

“Cas,” Dean rolled his eyes, following suit, “You weren’t supposed to take us out of the park – just out from behind that tree. To a better vantage point,” Dean went over to the fridge, inspecting its contents, “You just made us lose.”

The angel let out a sigh, “I don’t understand that game.”

Dean shook his head as he began pulling things from the fridge, of course you don’t, “Me and Sammy used to play all the time when we were kids. We finally had a day off, I figured we could both use something distracting.”

“But…” the angel chewed his lip a second, tilting his head to the side slightly, “you shoot to kill all the time, how would play shooting your brother be a distraction?”

“It was fun, Cas,” He closed the fridge and moved to the island where the angel was sitting, “Y’know, fun? You’ve had to of heard of it in all the hundreds of years you’ve been around humans.”

“…It wasn’t fun,” He picked at a chip in the table, “You were being mean.”

Dean sighed, exacerbated, “I wouldn’t of been so mean if you’d just-”

“You guys left mid game so you could cook?” Gabriels’ voice made both parties jump and turn to the doorway.

“We left because we wanted to leave you two with some of your dignity,” Dean began chopping vegetables, “I mean, you were losing against Cas.”

“Pfft, please,” Sam plopped down at the island next to the angel, “We were kicking your asses.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night, Sammy,” the blonde turned to the stove, grabbing a pot and throwing the veggies in.

The giant rolled his eyes before running them over the ingredients displayed on the counter, “You’re making Pasgetti?”

Dean twirled back around to the island, nodding proudly, “Best meal after any hunt.”

Cas looked between the two, obviously confused, “But you weren’t-”

“Just go with it, Cas,” Gabriel took the last seat at the island, “It’s good.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at the other angel, “How would you know?”

“Pfft, please, who do you think taught her the recipe?”

The Winchesters’ jaws dropped and they both turned to the angel in unison, “What?”

Gabriel smirked, “Oh yeah, me and your mom go way back.”

“You son of a bitch, if you ever-”

“Relax, Dean-o, I don’t mean that. We were friends for a long time. Tried teaching her all kinds of recipes, but, well…,” he looked between the two humans before shrugging, “Some people just can’t cook.”

Dean eyed the angel, “You’re lying.”

Gabriel held up his hands in mock defence, “Believe me or don’t, either way, I’m the reason you two exist at all so…”

“Okay, now I know you’re definitely lying,” Dean turned back to the stove, angrily stirring the pot.

“Oh c’mon, you two already know your parents’ being together was part of heavens’ Almighty Showdown. Who do you think convinced Mary to go on a second date with the Neanderthal mechanic?”

“He’s right,” Cas didn’t bother to look up from the chip he was digging at, “Dad made sure an archangel was sent to watch over them, since it was such an important task, and we all know Michael and Lucifer couldn’t be trusted…”

The brothers’ shared a disbelieving look before Dean smirked, “You taught Mom the recipe?”

Gabriel nodded proudly, “Yep. I must’ve made it with her over a hundred times. She couldn’t quite match the awesomeness of the original, obviously.”

Dean nodded, “Okay, so… you wouldn’t want any of this then, since it’s not as good?”

Gabriel stopped himself mid-mod, mouth opening slightly in shock, “W-well, I-” his eyes narrowed at the hunters’ smirk, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh no?” Dean half-turned from the pot.

“Of course not,” Gabriel touched a finger to the pack of spaghetti on the island, winking at the other two men as it disappeared, “Kicking your ass really works up an appetite.”


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Face to Face

Inspired by the lyric: He’s not the only one who had a secret to hide – left the secret at the grave (Carrie Underwood – Two Black Cadillacs)

Words: 988

Started: 17.07.20

Finished: 18.08.22

Sabriel, Destiel


“Oh my God.”

“I had to,” Cas’ voice came from somewhere behind him.

Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from the burnt remains of wings that were spread across the floor, what did you do?

“I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t know what else to do.”

The blonde closed his eyes and took in a breath, his heart breaking at the pain in the angel’s voice, “It-it’s okay, Cas.”

“He didn’t give me a choice.”

“Cas, it’s okay,” Dean swallowed thickly as his eyes landed on the face of the body, “You don’t have to explain.”

“I didn’t-”

“Cas,” he turned to face the angel, hoping he was doing a better job of masking how freaked out he was than he felt, “let’s just get you home.”

“But Dean-”

“Cas, it’s fine,” he closed the small distance between them and pressed a kiss to his lips, “Trust me, okay?”

Cas gave a sheepish nod before allowing himself to be pulled towards the exit, “What are we gonna do?”

Dean let out a breath as he held the door open, “I have no friggin’ idea.”

“Hey, what took you guys-” Sam’s question died on his lips as he took in the expression on Cas’ face, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Dean came through the door, keeping a guiding hand on Cas’ back as he stood there, eyes not leaving the ground.

“Are you sure?”

Dean held up a hand and shook his head. Sam nodded and shut up, confused eyes not leaving his brother.

Dean rubbed the raven-haired man’s shoulder a bit, “why don’t you go lay down for a while? I’ll come in to check on you in a bit, okay?”

The angel nodded meekly and headed off to his room, eyes not leaving the ground as he passed the younger hunter. Dean starred after him until he heard the door to his bedroom close, then he returned his gaze to his brother.

“Dean, what the hell happened?”

Dean gave his brother a once over, feeling a boulder settle into his stomach, how in the hell am I supposed to tell you?

Sam took a step closer, noticing the look in his brothers’ eye, “are you okay? Did something happen?”

You’d never forgive him…

“Dean?”

“He…” the blonde swallowed thickly, feeling the boulder grow, maybe you don’t have to know all of it, “he killed an angel.”

Sam’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair, “he what? How did… what do you – What happened?”

The elder let out a sigh and made his way to the couch, “I don’t know.”

“What?” he followed his brother, “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” he flopped down on the couch and closed his eyes, “I walked in after whatever happened, happened and just saw him standing there.” Over his body.

“He didn’t say anything to you?”

“No, Sam, he just stood there looking guilty as hell.”

The younger brother – thankfully – went quiet for a moment. He pulled a stool over to sit in front of the couch, running a hand through his hair. Dean sighed in slight relief, no more questions, please.

“A-are you sure it was an angel?”

Dean held back a snort, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“Well, maybe… Maybe it wasn’t. It could’ve been someone else.”

“It was an angel, Sammy,” Dean ran a hand down his face, leave it alone, Sam.

“How do you know?”

“Just…” He got up, how the hell am I supposed to tell you? “trust me, I know what a dead angel looks like.”

“It could’ve just been a vessel, or maybe-”

“It was one we knew! Alright?” Dean blinked as the words left his mouth, eyes going wide, shit-shit-shit-shit.

“One we knew?” Sams’ eyebrows knit together, “Who was it?”

“Sam…”

“Dean.”

The blonde rubbed a hand at the back of his neck in nervousness, swallowing thickly, forgive me.

Sam let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair, “Fine, if you won’t tell me who… can you at least tell me why?”

“All he said was that he had to do it.”

“I just…,” Sams’ eyes focused on the hall where Cas disappeared, “I can’t believe he killed an angel and wouldn’t tell us what happened.”

“Yeah, well, he probably,” Dean got up, “he probably just doesn’t know how to explain it. We both know what it’s like to kill someone we didn’t want. It’s messy.” He watched the gears in his brothers’ head turning, don’t over think it. “I should go check on him.”

Sam nodded, still clearly distracted trying to work out what happened, “Yeah, okay.”

Dean eyed his brother, “Maybe you outta head home?”

Sam blinked, coming out of whatever scenario he was imagining and finally looked at his brother, “What?”

“Look man, I’m not gonna lie, you look like shit,” at the snort he continued, “That hunt wiped both of us out. I was just gonna crash anyway, no point in you sticking around if we’re both sleeping.” Please, take the hint and leave.

Sam stood, stretching his back out a bit and stifling a yawn, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He checked his watch, eyes widening, “2:30am? Gabriels’ gotta be worried sick.” Sam started toward the front door, turning around in the doorway, “You’re sure you won’t need me?”

Dean nodded, leaning against the door, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t wanna take care of two babies tonight.”

Sam chuckled and nodded, “Alright, fine. Night.”

“Night,” the blonde closed the door, leaning against it while he breathed out a sigh, shit. He slid down the door, resting his head against it, I’m sorry, Sammy.

“Dean?”

His head whipped up in the direction of the bedroom, “Y-yeah, Cas,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be right there.”

He got up and headed for the hall, scrubbing a hand down his face as he switched gears, he’ll piece it together when he gets home.


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Satanic Mechanic

A Halloween fic.

Title based on the line from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Finished: 17.10.23

Words: 2,271

NFF


“Damn it!”

She kicked the car out of frustration and sighed, running her hands through her hair, of all the days, you decide to crap out on me now? She pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it up, searching for a signal.

“Great, that’s just great,” she pocketed the device before looking up and down the stretch of road she was on.

There was nothing but trees on either side, and she couldn’t see anything past the giant hill up ahead. She began walking up the road, the same way she was driving and pulled her jacket tighter against her chest, this is literally how every horror movie starts.

After a few minutes of walking, she saw a truck appear over the edge of the hill. Please don’t stop, please don’t stop… the truck slowed as it approached her, and the driver’s window rolled down, of course.

“Excuse me, Miss? Need a lift?”

Damn, he’s cute, and that accent… she gave the stranger a once over, No! Focus, girl, focus. On the one hand, he might actually want to help, but on the other, her eyes darted to the bed of the truck, wishing she was two inches taller, he could be a serial killer or something…

“Ma’am?” He leaned out the window a bit, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at his voice, making her dip her head so he missed her blush.

Fuck it.

She brought her gaze back to his face and smiled, “Sorry.”

He’s too cute to be a serial killer.

 “Do you happen to know where the closest mechanic shop is?” she pointed back over her shoulder, “My car broke down.”

He followed her finger before turning back, “Looks like it’s your lucky day,” he started his truck and drove the few feet forward, stopping again beside her car.

“Hey!” She jogged after him, what the hell is he doing?

She watched as he jumped out of his truck, before striding over to her car, lifting the hood.

“What, uh, what are you doing?” She kept a small distance between them, just in case.

He shut the hood and smiled at her, “I’m the only mechanic in town,” he began hooking her car up to the back of his truck.

“…Really?”

“Yep, I was just on my way out to get a few parts,” he went to the passenger side of his truck, wrenching the door open before looking to her, “How lucky is that?”

A little too lucky.

“Yeah…”

Wasn’t Ted Bundy attractive?

He chuckled, “There’s no need to worry, ma’am, I’m just trying to help,” she still didn’t move so he closed the passenger door, before walking around to the drivers’ side, “I can tow your car up to my shop, if you’d like. It’s only a few miles passed that hill. I can start working on it, if you’d rather walk. I’d just feel bad leaving you here, alone.”

“I just… it’s kind of hard to believe that the first person I meet is the one who I need, y’know? It’s a little too… coincidental.”

He laughed and hoped into his truck, “Well, that’s the thing about small towns,” he winked, “there’s only so many people.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, my God, that laugh… she turned her gaze to his eyes for the first time since meeting him, baby blues, damn it… she chewed her lip for a moment, looking back to the hill, how bad could he be?

“I suppose I’d be rude not to accept a ride,” her heart fluttered at the thousand watt smile he gave her.

She closed the distance before climbing into the truck with a huff, “Sorry,” she wiggled into place on her seat, “guess I’m just not used to people being so nice to strangers.”

He laughed again before starting the truck, “Maybe I can change your mind?”

She bit her lip and turned to look out the window, “Maybe.”

What’s the worst that could happen?

 

 

“Here we are.”

They turned onto a long, dirt road, heavy trees covering each side, hiding the path from the main road. She peered up as they stopped in front of run-down looking house, definitely how horror movies start.

She jumped out of the truck and looked around, “This is your shop?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he slid out of the truck before going to unhook her car, “Been in my family four generations.”

Wow, she wandered, taking in the barely-there scenery, there wasn’t too much that screamed mechanic, aside from a few cars on cinderblocks off to one side, “No offence, but it doesn’t really look like a shop.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled and wiped his hands on his pants, “I get that a lot.”

She brought one hand up to her temple, beginning to rub it as she felt the first stabs of a heat headache, I knew I should’ve worn a hat. He came around the side of his truck, grabbing two water bottles out of the back before tossing one at her, “My grandfather did used to have a real shop, but when he met my grandmother…”

She caught it easily, albeit surprised, how did he know…? She took a couple big gulps of it as she made her way over to the porch, taking a closer look, feeling the pain in her head start subsiding. Already? She looked at the bottle in her hands, studying it, looks like regular water…The blue paint on the railing was chipped and faded, the whole house seemed faded away by the years, it looks sad.

“My gran always talked about owning this house, said growing up she’d ride past it on her way to school and it was the most beautiful house she’d ever seen,” she heard him creak up the porch steps, “After things started getting serious between them, he sold the shop to buy this place.”

“It’s still beautiful…” she ran her free hand along one of the window sills, leaving a streak through the dirt, “like an old photograph.”

“Yeah…”

She felt his eyes on her back and took another swig of water, heart beating just a little bit faster as he got closer. Relax, girl, he’s just being… friendly.

“The years haven’t been kind to her. I’ve tried to repair as much as I can,” the hairs on her neck stood up as she felt his breath, “but being out here all by myself…”

A shiver ran through her at his voice being so close – she could practically feel the heat rolling off his body – she felt herself beginning to get wet.

Has it really been that long?

Her logical side was telling her something wasn’t right, that she should run in the other direction, but the rest of her, well…

She took a sip of water in an attempt to cool herself down. Calm the hell down. What do you think this is, a porno? He’s not gonna let you do him for payment. A mental image of him peeling his shirt off, kneeling over her flashed through her brain and she felt herself blush. Jesus, you don’t even know his name! Get it together.

Whoa, she felt herself sway on the spot as a sudden wave of dizziness hit her, what the hell?

Her knees buckled, and she felt his arms wrap around her waist, ooohhh… keeping her up. A small burst of electricity ran through her as they touched.

She shook her head, failing to get rid of her wanting, snap out of it, girl. Something’s not right.

“I…” Her brain suddenly foggy, she struggled to find the words, “W-what did you…?”

“Ssshhh, it’s alright,” goose bumps broke out over her skin as he placed a kiss to her neck.

Her instincts kicked in, telling her to run, but as soon as she tried to straighten herself and get out of his grasp, he pulled her tighter against his chest.

“I-I need to-”

“Relax, baby.”

Her brain short circuited at the baby, legs instantly loosing their ability to work, the fight leaving her body. He began sucking on her neck, making her gasp as he hit that spot. Mmm… her eyes fluttered shut as she tilted her head to one side, exposing more of her skin to him. His stubble tickled her flesh as he switched to nibbling her ear, causing another spark of electricity to shoot through her.

“You are so beautiful…”

“Y-yeah?”

“You must be tired after such a long drive.”

She whimpered as she felt her feet leave the ground, water bottle slipping from her hand. She rested her head against his chest, the gentle thump of his heart pulling her towards sleep.

“I’ve got a guest bed you can use,” his voice was thick with lust, sending another wave of pleasure through her body.

“You’re so warm,” she mildly registered that she was slurring her words as she started loosing the fight to stay conscious.

“You shouldn’t try to talk.”

She nuzzled her head against his chest, trying to get closer.

“Let’s go sleepyhead,” his voice was barely above a whisper, the kiss to her forehead giving her a sense of peace.

A crunch made her eyes open, “wha…?”

“Ssshhh, it’s okay, just a water bottle,” she watched as he kicked it, it rolled under the railing before falling off the porch.

The water…he… her head throbbed as her brain tried to connect the thought.

He carried her through the doorway just as her eyes slipped closed again.

 

 

She groaned as her eyes blinked open. What the hell…? She went to sit up but couldn’t. Looking to her left, she saw her hand was handcuffed to a bed. Her heart beat increased as she saw her legs were bound too. Okay, it’s okay… just breath. Don’t freak out, you don’t know what’s happening yet. She lifted her head the small amount she could and saw a man standing with his back to the bed, doing something she couldn’t quite see.

“Oh, good,” she heard the clank of metal before he turned around, smiling, “you’re awake.”

“Y-yeah,” she blinked in surprise at the hoarseness of her voice, “W-what did you do?”

He had the audacity to look shocked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She rattled the handcuffs against the bed post, glaring at him, “What did you do?”

He smirked as he made his way over to the left side of the bed, “You don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t fucking remember.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he stopped inches away from her hand, “where’s all this hostility coming from?”

Is he serious? “How about from the fact I woke up handcuffed to a fucking bed?”

The blue-eyed man sat on the edge of the bed, eyes sparkling as he wiped sweat off his head with an arm.

Sweaty? Why would he… oh my god, “D-did we…y’know…?”

He nodded with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

Oh my God, “I’m gonna be sick,” she swallowed thickly, and turned away from him.

His expression turned hurt, he cast his gaze to the floor, “You really don’t remember?”

This can’t be happening, there’s no way that I- she snapped her head back, “You drugged me!”

“Wha-?” He got up from the bed and made his way back over to the other side of the room.

She lifted her head, not trusting to take her eyes off him and saw him fill a needle before making his way back over.

“Whoa, hey, what is that? What are you doing? Get away from me!”

“Sh-sh-sh-sh, it’s alright,” he turned her head before pushing the needle into her neck, “it’s just something to help you calm down.”

She gasped as she felt the liquid rush into her, “So is this w-what you do? Pose as a mechanic to rape woman?”

“I didn’t rape you,” he pulled the needle from her neck, “well, not the first time.”

First time? She felt her brain start to get foggy again, fight it, “H-how long have I been here?”

He shrugged before walking away again, “three days? I don’t know, I wasn’t really tracking it.”

Oh, great… “I’ve been drugged for three days? T-that’s… awesome.”

He scoffed before coming back into view, this time holding a lit candle, “I didn’t drug you,” he placed it on the bedside table before brushing some hair away from her face, “but I am going to set you free.”

“Set me free?” she shook her head, trying to shake the fog out, “W-what are you talking about?”

He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, “That way you won’t have to worry.”

Her eyelids began growing heavy, “Worry? W-what are you…? I d-don’t…”

She rattled the handcuffs weakly in frustration, C’mon, focus!

He let out a heavy sigh, “I know it’s hard to accept, but no one can be good at everything.”

“I-”

He pounded a fist down on the bed and got up, “Why can’t you see? You won’t have to suffer anymore!”

Suffer?

“No more disappointing the opposite sex, no more worrying about if you’re doing a good job, it’ll all be over,” he pulled a knife out of one of the bedside tables’ drawers.

Oh my God…

His expression softened as he gave her body a once over, “You are one of the prettier ones…”

“I-if I’m…” black spots danced on the edges of her vision, “w-why…?”

He smirked before straddling her hips, leaning down so he was right beside her ear, knife poised against her chest, “I had to make sure I was right.”

Caught Up In The Moment

Written: 17.07.20

Gen. SamxJess


“Mom, can you please stop crying?” Jess threw the last box into her trunk, “I’m only gonna be half an hour away.”

“I can’t help it,” her mom sniffed, “my little girl’s going to be out there all on her own!”

“She won’t be on her own Margaret, she’ll have a roommate. Right, Jess?”

“Right,” she smiled at her mom, “I’ll be in a house full of other girls, there’ll probably be hundreds.”

“B-but what if-”

“I’ll be careful,” she placed a hand on her arm, “I promise.”

“You should get going, Sweetie, don’t want you to be late,” her dad wrapped an arm around his wife.

Jess checked her watch and nodded, “Good idea, it’ll take me the better part of the day to get all this stuff unpacked,” she wrapped her arms around both her parents, “I’ll call you guys as soon as I’m settled, okay?”

Although looking like she’d rather have her daughter be late, her mom nodded and kissed her cheek, watching with fresh tears as Jess climbed into the car. She waved to her parents as she backed out of the driveway.

“Be careful!”

Jess smiled as she turned out onto the road, “Always!”

 

 

Wow, she pulled into the Stanford parking lot and gazed up at the building, this place is way bigger than it looked on the website. She hoped out of the car and couldn’t help letting her jaw fall open as she took in the campus.

“It’s pretty big, eh?”

The voice from behind her made her jump. She spun around and saw a tall brunette man smiling down at her.

“Not as big as you. Where’re you from? Texas?”

The stranger laughed and she couldn’t help feeling butterflies at the sound, “No, not Texas. That’s a good one, though.”

“Pfft, yeah, right.”

“No, really, that was good.”

She waved a hand dismissively, “I’m sure you get that all the time.”

He gave her a once over with a half-smile and shook his head, “I haven’t, actually.”

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, Texas but I’ve gotta start unpacking and call my parents before my mom has a heart attack,” she walked around to the trunk of her car.

“Maybe I could help? I mean,” he shifted his weight nervously and darted his eyes away from her, “if you want me to come up to your room, or if that’d be… I mean, shit I- maybe I better just go.”

He turned to leave as she stood there in awe, how could someone that adorable be that nervous?

She bit her lip before closing her eyes, “Wait.”

He turned back, visibly fighting a smile, “I’m having a couple friends over later, if you want to come by.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What time?”

“Around eight?”

He gave her a smile, “Great, I’ll be there.”

“Great,” she watched him walk away for a few minutes before pulling out her phone, “Hey, do you wanna come over later?”

 

 

“All I’m saying is that I was promised free pizza,” Brady held up his hands as he took a seat on the couch.

Jess flicked her eyes up to him from the mirror she was doing her makeup in, “And I told you you’ll get it later. We can’t have everyone show up and have a half eaten pizza sitting out.”

“Wait, what do you mean everyone? I thought it was just us.”

Jess put her makeup away and went to sit on the arm of the couch, “There might be one more coming.”

Chris and Brady shared a look before turning back to the blonde, “Who?”

“The tall mystery guy she met when she pulled up,” Molly chimed in from the other side of the room.

“Does this mystery guy have a name?”

Jess felt her cheeks heat up and she glanced at the floor, “Yes.”

After a moment of silence, she chanced a glance back up at them, and they were all starring at her, like she predicted, “What?”

Molly made her way over to the rest of them and plopped herself down on the other arm, “What’s his name?”

“I… don’t know,” at the confused look she continued, “I met him like five seconds after I pulled up, he offered to help me unpack, so I told him to come by. Names didn’t come up.”

Chris laughed, “Names didn’t come up? Isn’t one of the first sentences you say after meeting someone, ‘hi, I’m blank, what’s your name?’

“Apparently not,” Jess got up off the arm and made her way over to one of the boxes stacked in the kitchen, “Break time’s over.”

 

 

“I hate to say it Jess, but it’s been over an hour. I don’t think he’s coming.”

“Eat your pizza,” she was pacing in front of the door, chewing her bottom lip, he seemed so nice. Why would he stand me up?

“Jess, come eat with us,” Molly patted the spot next to her on the floor, “you’re gonna chew your whole lip off if you keep pacing.”

She checked her watch again before reluctantly going to sit with her friends.

They all clapped as she sat down, “Oh, haha, very funny,” she grabbed for the pizza box and hit play on the movie that was waiting, “let’s get this started.”



 

 

“She didn’t give you any information?”

Sam huffed at his phone, “Don’t you think if she told me anything that I’d be at her place instead of calling you?”

“Okay, okay, geez, no need to get snarky. Do you remember where she was parked? If she was just moving in, she’d probably be close to the building.”

The brunette ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know man, she was parked outside the main office. What am I gonna do, Brady? She’s gonna think I flaked on her.”

“Calm down, just explain the next time you see her.”

“I might never see her again,” he started heading back toward his dorm, “Do you know how many blondes go here?”

“Sorry man, but I gotta go. A friend promised me free pizza for helping them move, and I’d actually like to get to eat some of it this time.”

Sam sighed and ran his free hand through his hair, “Yeah, alright. Have fun.”

“Thanks man, and good luck.”

 

 

“Hey,” Sam turned and saw Brady jogging toward him, “so… how’d it go last night? You find her?”

“No,” he kicked a pebble, “it’s impossible, man. There’s too many students, I’ll never be able to find her.”

“Cheery up, Sammy. It’s not like you slept with her or anything.”

“Dude,” he whacked the shorter man in the arm.

“What? That’s a much more crucial emergency to find a chick. Especially if you were both drunk and-”

“I’m not listening to this,” Sam put his fingers in his ears.

“I’m just saying,” Brady shrugged, “you wanna get coffee?”

“Yeah, alright.”

They started toward the coffee cart on the other side of the grass.

“So,” Sam sighed, “how was your night?”

“It was good. We were just chilling and watching a movie. Molly’s friend was bugging out about some dude, you know, nothing new.”

Sam chuckled and shook his head, “I’m sure she wasn’t that bad.”

“Dude, she delayed eating and the movie for an hour for this random dude she had a five minute conversation with. She didn’t even know his name.”

“That’s not that weird.”

Brady shook his head, “I just hate seeing her like that. She’s only been here a day and she’s already getting played by college douche bags. This was supposed to be her fresh start..”

“I hear that,” they stepped into line at the coffee cart, Sam checked his watch, “why is it only ever busy when I need to be somewhere?”

“See? Even the place itself is telling you to lighten up on studying. I think you can afford to lose the first ten minutes of your day-long study session.”

“This is important, I have to make sure I know the material so I don’t get behind.”

“Why are you always so worried? Seriously, it can’t be healthy.”

“I just need to know I know what I’m doing.”

“Dude, when you start reciting laws in your sleep, I think you know what you’re doing.”

“Texas?”

Sam turned around, confused, before spotting the blonde and a black-haired girl standing behind him, “Hey! I’m sorry about la -”

“Wait, Brady?”

“Jess?”

Sam looked between the two for minute, “Wait, you two know each other?”

Brady gave him a confused look, “Yeah, this is Molly’s friend. How do you two know each other?”

“He’s the guy I was telling you about last night,” she lightly hit him on the arm, “You could’ve told me you knew who he was!”

“Wha-? You said he was tall.”

“He is tall!”

Brady looked back to the brunette and shrugged, “He’s not that tall.”

“Yeah, to you,” Jess rolled her eyes, “You’re like six-feet,” she turned back to Sam, “so, uhm, did you get busy or something last night?”

“What?” Sam blinked, “No. You forgot to tell me where to meet you. And I didn’t know your name,” he turned to Brady, “Why didn’t you tell me who she was, again?”

Brady held up his hands in mock surrender, “I didn’t know you two were looking for each other. That would’ve made last night a hell of a lot easier though.”

“So,” Sam bumped his arm, “introduce us.”

Brady shook his head, “Jess, this is Sam. Sam, this is Jess.”

She smiled at him and stuck out her hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Sam.”

“You too.”

Sam’s watch started beeping, he dropped her hand and turned it off, “Sorry. I gotta run right now, but can we hang out later?”

Jess nodded, “Yeah, sure,” she turned to Brady, “Give him my number?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, bye.”

“Bye,” she watched him go again, not bothering to hide her smile.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

She turned around to face the barista, “Oh, sorry. Can I just get a small black?”

The barista nodded and she stepped to the side of the line, Brady following suite.

“So,” he turned to face Jess, “do I want to know why you call him Texas?”


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Injuries and Winchesters

Written: 14.07.01

Gen. Sick!fic, xReader


“Hey, where are you?” You hear one of the boys yell from the front door.

“I’m on the couch!” You yell back, punctuating it with a cough.

You hear some shuffling around and the scrape of him taking his boots off before you see a head poke in the doorway. Well, more like a mop of hair popped itself into the doorway.

Guess that means I know whose back. You thought, coughing again as you chuckled.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Sam asked, stepping into the room to come sit beside you on the couch.

“I’m really good, actually.” You lied, with fake enthusiasm.

He nodded and hugged you, almost cutting your limited air supply off.

“You don’t have to be strong, for us. I know it must be a bitch.” Sam said, holding you out by the shoulders, studying your face.

“No, really, I’m feeling better.” You stated, trying to look at him with your ‘I’m not lying’ face.

“How could you call her a bitch?” Dean exclaimed, walking into the room, looking at his brother with a smirk.

“I didn’t!” Sam exclaimed, eyes going wide under his hair.

“I believe that Dean is what is commonly referred to as ‘teasing’ you, Sam.” Cas stated, popping into the room right behind Dean.

“Damn it Cas!” Dean swore, jumping slightly.

“I apologize Dean, it’s hard for me to gage how close to others I will be when popping into a room that is so…small.” Cas explained, looking around the tiny space, as if in wonder.

Dean glared at the angel before walking over to sit on the arm of the couch that your head wasn’t on. Sam was looking at Cas like he still hadn’t gotten used to the angel randomly popping in on them (which made you laugh because it had only been seven years). You moved to push yourself up on the couch, so you weren’t taking up all the space, when Sam put his hand on your chest, pushing you back down slightly.

“You shouldn’t try to move yet, you’re still in a lot of pain.” He explained, gently taking his hand off you when he’d noticed Dean’s eyebrow’s shoot up.

“No I’m not.” You protested, but allowed yourself to be pushed back down anyway.

“Cas, can’t you just angel mojo it away or something?” Dean asked, clearly not liking that you were injured for so long.

“Dean, we’ve already been over this, I can’t heal this type of wound. If I were to intervene it would possibly make it worse.” Cas explained, taking a couple steps closer to you.

“Wait, when did you go over this? And why haven’t I heard about it?” You asked, looking between the boys around you.

Sam looked down in guilt, Dean looked away, starring at the off T.V like it was the most interesting thing on the planet, and Cas just tilted his head in confusion, being the only one who didn’t take his eyes off you.

“You didn’t explain the complications?” He questioned, eyes flicking up to Dean.

“No, they didn’t. I was told you were too busy with the war and being hunted to have time to pop by.” You informed the angel through gritted teeth, sitting up against the arm of the chair, none of the boys noticing.

“Dean, why would you keep something as important as that from someone?” Cas asked, still seriously confused.

“Yeah Dean, why would you keep that from me?” You questioned, glaring at the hunter.

“It’s not just my fault – Sam could’ve said something about it too!” Dean defended, looking up to the angel with daggers.

“Hey!” Sam cried, looking up to his brother in shock.

“Don’t give me that, you know you could’ve and you didn’t, so I shouldn’t be getting all the blame for this.” Dean stated, standing up.

“At least I only found out this morning!” Sam yelled back, also standing.

“Were you going to tell me Sam?” You asked, curling yourself slightly closer to the back of the couch – sometimes you forgot how giant those boys were until they got angry.

“You did not! I saw you talking to Cas a week ago!” Dean accused, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam’s face suddenly drained and he took a step away from his brother. He momentarily turned to flick his eyes over to the aforementioned angel before looking back at his brother and swallowing thickly.

“Y-you saw us talking or you heard us talking?” Sam stuttered, voice losing it’s menacing tone, making him sound like a frightened kid.

“What’s the difference?” Dean asked confused, his anger disappearing as well.

“Uh – nothing.” Sam replied quickly, eyes shifting down to look at the floor.

“Sam?” Dean questioned, eyes narrowing.

Sam turned his back to his brother, which you assumed meant he was heading toward the door to leave the room, when the angel popped up in front of him. Sam jumped back slightly surprised at the sudden occupied space in front of him.

“Sam, I think it’s time to tell them.” Cas informed, his gravely voice making it almost unnecessary for him to attempt to whisper.



You turned yourself around slightly, resting your arms on the back of the couch so you could continue to watch the action before you, regardless of the sharp pull from your injury.

One thing that continued to surprise you was that even though you’d been with the trio for a fair amount of time, mostly everything they did seemed like it was being done in a movie-esque way, as if begging for someone to swoop in and capture it on film.

“Yeah Sam, I think it’s time you tell me.” Dean piped up, his angry stare back now that he knew his brother had been keeping something from him.

Sam’s head went down and even though you couldn’t see, you just knew he’d closed his eyes. Cas dipped his head, as if wanting to get the hunter to look at him before placing a hand on his shoulder and his face softened immensely, conveying the most emotion you’d ever seen from the angel. Sam lifted his head up to meet the angel’s eyes and they seemed to be having a conversation in their heads before the hunter nodded reluctantly and turned back to face you and his brother.

Cas dropped his hand off Sam’s shoulder but let it dangle dangerously close to his hand, their fingers just barely brushing against each other.

“Sam, what have you been keeping from me?” Dean demanded, clearly getting sick of the wait.

“It’s really not that big of a-”

“Just tell me damn it!” Dean yelled, stomping closer to his brother, looking ready to punch him.

Suddenly, Cas was between the two brothers, oddly enough protecting Sam from the one person who was sworn to protect him. You looked between the boys, not sure if you should try and intervene or not, although considering that was how you  got injured in the first place, you were leaning more toward not bothering to step in. You gasped in pain and doubled over slightly, clutching at your side as you felt new, cool waves of liquid start to seep out of it.

“Dean,-” Sam was cut off by your gasp of pain.

You doubled over slightly, clutching at your side as you felt new, cool waves of liquid start to seep out of it, gritting your teeth, still trying to not show them how injured you actually were.

“Damn it!” Dean swore, running out of the room, hopefully to grab the first aid kit.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re gonna be fine.” Sam muttered, suddenly taking up the space in front of you, one of his giant hands on your shoulders.

All you could do was nod back in response, and try to keep the tears from falling down your face. Cas was suddenly beside Sam, his one hand on your other shoulder, the only way he’d figured out how to comfort a person. You pressed your hands harder into your side, and gave the boys a weak smile.

Dean strode back into the room, holding a few towels and the first aid kit. He glared at his brother, getting Sam to move, however slightly.

“Sammy, I’m gonna need more room than that if I’m gonna patch it up.” Dean ground out, obviously impatient.

“Why don’t I stitch it back up?” Sam offered, holding his hands out to receive the items.

“Damn it Sam! We don’t have time for this!” Dean exclaimed, throwing the items down before stomping back out of the room.

“I will go make sure he doesn’t do anything he’ll regret.” Cas stated before disappearing, leaving you alone with the youngest.

“I’m gonna need to move your hands away so I can get a good look at it, okay?” Sam asked, looking at you cautiously.

“Of course.” You replied, taking your hands away slowly, trying to hide your wince.

You absolutely hated how he was still the only one walking on eggshells around you, it wasn’t even his fault and yet he felt guilty. If any of them should be feeling guilty, it should’ve been the eldest, not the one who’d patched it up in the first place.

He pulled your shirt up slowly, watching your face for any signs of additional pain, which you had to admit was starting to piss you off – he should know by now that you weren’t a freakin’ china doll! You could take a hit – from Dean no less and not be reduced to a pile of tears, they needed more faith in you than they did.

“Sam, I’m fine. Just stitch it up so Dean can come back.” You stated, with a small smile.

“You want Dean to come back? Last I checked you liked it better when he wasn’t around.” Sam stated, raising an eyebrow as he set to work, wiping away the blood with one of the towels.

“Well, I’d rather have him in here than trashing some place else.” You reasoned, watching his hands to avoid looking at his face.

You knew that instead of what you’d actually said, he’d heard, ‘I’d rather have him take it out on me then something that doesn’t deserve it.’ Which bugged the hell out of you – you had gotten way to close to these boys.

“You know Cas and I wouldn’t let that happen.” He replied, eyes flicking up to your face.

“Speaking of you and Cas, were you actually going to tell him?” You asked, hoping to change the subject.

Sam let out a small laugh at that as he put the towel down and shook his head, picking up the needle.

“I was thinking about it, but Cas doesn’t want to tell him, he knew how pissed he’d be. So no, we’re not gonna tell him yet.” Sam answered, beginning to stitch your wound up.

“Of course he’s gonna be pissed but the longer you wait to tell him, the more pissed he’ll be. I’d say to get it over with and bear the enraged monster now.” You stated, with a small smile.

“I’m an enraged monster now, am I?” Dean asked, walking back into the room.

You looked up to him, still smiling as you pretended to give him a once over, before nodding, earning you a pillow to the head.

“Hey! I’m not done stitching yet!” Sam cried with a laugh, throwing the pillow back to his brother.

“Well hurry it up, Bitch. We got stuff to do.” Dean replied, his smirk returning.

Sam just shook his head and went back to stitching you up. You looked at his face, trying to gauge if he would reply but it became evident he wouldn’t.

“Jerk.”

Sam’s head shot up and Dean’s eyes widened as they both looked at you, jaws agape.

“What? Sam wasn’t going to say because he was busy, so I figured I’d fill in.” You shrugged, smiling at their matching expressions.

The brother’s looked to each other, expressions staying the same before looking back to you again. You started laughing at their faces – for men who claimed to only deliver bad news, they sure knew how to make someone laugh.

“What kind of stuff do we have to do?” Sam asked, slowly pulling your shirt back down and putting the needle away.

“We gotta talk about how long you’ve been dating a certain angel.” Dean deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam looked up to his brother again, trying to see if he was serious or not.

“I haven’t been dating an angel Dean. Who told you that?” Sam asked, standing up and moving away to throw the bloody towels away.

“Doesn’t matter who told me. What matters is I know.” Dean stated.

“What does Dean know?” Cas asked, almost falling over the arm of couch as he popped in.

“Dean says someone told him I’ve been dating an angel.” Sam explained, throwing the towels away before walking back to sit on the coffee table.

“Did he say who?” Cas asked again, looking to the mentioned Winchester.

“Doesn’t matter who told me, what matters is I know.” Dean repeated, looking to the angel.

“Should this not wait until one of us isn’t seriously injured?” Cas suggested, taking a few steps so he was standing in front of you.

“I’m fine.” You replied automatically.

Cas gave you an ‘oh please’ look that would’ve been comical if not for the growing tension in the room.

“Cas is right, we can sort this out after we take of this.” Sam nodded, putting a hand on your knee.

Dean looked at the three of you before sighing and visibly deflating, nodding as he gave in.

“Fine, but I’m so kicking your ass after.”

“Deal.”


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Surviving

Written: 16.06.23

Smut, DeanxReader


“Hey,” Dean greeted you at the door with a thousand watt smile and a kiss, “how was your last day? You excited to be done?”

You shrugged your bag off and rolled your eyes at his enthusiasm, “I’m not done-done, I just finished this year.”

“Still,” he pulled you into his arms and squeezed you to his chest, “I’m proud of you, Sweety.”

“Okay, geez,” you snorted with laughter and lightly pushed against him, “can we be done with the mushiness?”

Done-done or just done for this year?”

“Oh ha-ha,” you tried to step back again without success, “Dean, I need to shower.”

“Excellent,” he swung you around in a circle, expertly getting your feet off the ground and began walking you over to the bathroom.

“D-Dean, wh…,” you cut off your question to protest as he threw you up in the air, “No-no-no-no-no,” he caught you just in time for you to hit his arm, “Don’t do that!”

“Oh, c’mon, you know I’d never drop you.”

“Oh?”

“Of course, you’re too adorable.”

“Why do you always do that?”

“I just like when you hold me tighter,” he winked and kicked the bathroom door closed, placing you down on the counter beside the sink.

“Yeah, well, you could always just ask, instead of giving me a heart attack,” you slid your shirt off as you spoke and smirked as you watched his eyes drift to your chest.

“Uh-huh,” he nodded in agreement but his eyes never left your cleavage.

Have I really been that busy with school? You leaned forward and pushed out your chest, making them appear bigger than they already were, “You like what you see?”

“Ooohhh, baby.”

The breathless reply shot straight to your vag, leaving a trail of goose bumps as your body woke up. You reached behind you and undid the clasp of your bra, being sure you kept the garment to your chest. A sharp breath in escaped his lips and you could see his shorts were tented. He leaned closer to you, but didn’t make a move to touch. As if he was mesmerized by your little show.

Maybe it has been a while…

You carefully let one strap fall, then the other, still not removing the offending object completely. His emotions fought over his face, mainly between desperation and annoyance, but the man still didn’t move.

“Good boy,” you teased, before completely exposing your chest.

Now that your breasts weren’t covered, Dean’s expression softened to adoration. He took a small step forward and lowered his head, gently sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Ooohhh,” you cooed and closed your eyes at the touch, loving the electric wave that moved through you.

You felt a rush of wetness from your opening and was surprised by your body’s intense reaction to your man’s slight touch, Okay, clearly it has been that long.

Somehow finding the strength within yourself, you gently pushed his head away from your chest and jumped off the counter, “Lock the door.”

Sure, you loved Sam, but if he walked in on you doing his brother again you’d have no choice but to move.

Dean did as instructed faster than you thought was possible and was back to being rooted in place while you wiggled out of your jeans.

“No panties?”

You bent at the waist and stuck your ass out for him to admire as you turned on the water.

“Jesus.”

“What,” you flipped your hair and turned your head to face him, faking innocence.

“You look so good like that,” he licked his lips and stepped closer.

“Like what,” you baited, giving a playful wink as you wiggled your ass.

“Like this,” he grabbed your hips and pulled your ass back to meet his crotch, “bent over, ass up… Mmm baby, would love to pound you like this.”

You smiled at him and straightened back up, pressing your naked body close against him, “Why don’t we save that for later, and shower before wasting all the hot water?”

You then pulled down his shorts before stepping into the bathtub, hiding behind the shower curtain.

Dean chuckled before stepping in after you, completely naked. You exchanged appreciative looks at the other’s body—your eyes lingering on the hard on that was dangling between his legs—before he turned around to face the spray, wetting his hair.

“I love seeing you all wet and hard for me,” you pressed a kiss to his back and snaked your one arm around to his front.

“I-,” he let out a small sigh as your hand enclosed his shaft, “I thought we needed to shower?”

“We are showering, silly,” you pressed another kiss to his back and continued to massage his dick.

“We won’t be if you keep that up.”

You chuckled and let go, trading places so you could stand under the spray.

“Mmm,” you closed your eyes at the relaxing feel of the water, “this feels so good.”

“It’s a pretty decent picture too,” Dean chuckled, wrapping his arms around you to cup your breasts.

A small coo escaped your lips and you leaned yourself back into the touch, “this is a good way to celebrate.”

“Yeah,” he brought his head down to your shoulder to whisper in your ear, “you liking this, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you felt him slide one of his hands down across your stomach to your lips.

He rubbed at it slowly, dragging his finger over your slit, but not going deeper.

“Mmm, De,-”

“Ssshhh,” he pressed a kiss to just behind your ear, “let me take care of you.”

And take care of you he did.


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Secrets Are Bad, Dudes

Written: 15.01.29

Gen. Sick!Dean


“Whaddya say, Dean?”

Dean’s head whipped up and to the side, looking over to see his brother looking at him expectantly.

“Uh, yeah – sure. Sounds great.” Dean replied, putting on a fake smile as they made their way to the car.

Whatever Sam had asked, that seemed to be the answer he was hoping for, since he returned the smile and (thankfully) slid into the driver’s seat.

Keep it together! Dean thought to himself, trying to stifle the cough that tried escaping from his throat as he got in the other side.

 

 

What Sam had asked, apparently, had everything to do with extra bacon, extra grease, and extra hyper-awareness of everything Dean was doing. Which is how Dean found himself here, starring back at his reflection in the men’s bathroom of a diner a few blocks away from the motel they were staying at while they chased down this hunt.

He looked back at himself in surprise – he was looking nothing close to the complete crap he felt like. He felt as though he was sweating through his clothes, his head felt like it was on fire and all his bones felt like Jell-O.

How the hell was he supposed to stuff down those burgers while the mere smell of them made him nauseous? Even just thinking about putting them in his mouth made his stomach clench. There was no way he could do it, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to order soup, as that would be a giant red flag to Sam that something wasn’t right, and he’d be damned if he made Sam worry about him this close to just getting him back.

Could this be some sort of Purgatory sickness? Dean didn’t think so, otherwise it would’ve shown up closer to when he got out – not two weeks later – right?

It’s probably just the flu. He thought before doubling over as he started coughing violently.

He watched as he spat a mixture of mucus and blood into the sink.

Okay, definitely not the flu…He turned the tap on and rinsed whatever it was down the drain, gathering water into his hands to splash over his face.

He jumped a mile at the knock on the door, feeling his heart pound out of his chest.

“Dean?” Sam called in cautiously.

“Yeah?” Dean croaked, before clearing his throat.

“Food’s getting cold.” Sam’s voice was closer to the door, and more concerned.

“I’m fine Sammy – be right out.” Dean replied.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in as he heard the footsteps retreat and took one last look at himself in the mirror.

“I’m fine.” He breathed, trying to convince himself before going out to face his brother.

That wasn’t a complete lie – he was decidedly better off with whatever this was then when he was in 360 degree combat down downstairs.

He could do this.

 

 

He could not do this.

Or, at least – not for much longer. It was getting harder to hide his symptoms from Sam, and he knew his brother wasn’t an idiot – he was catching on. And even if by some miracle he hadn’t yet, he would.

Dean was rummaging around in the trunk, searching for some cold medicine. He’d gone from just feeling nauseous and sweaty to actually sweating through his shirts and getting insanely dizzy and winded, even after the shortest trips.

It was getting more annoying than anything else.

And why didn’t Sam have any medicine in the car?

Oh…right.

He shook his head and tried to not focus on the answer to his question, which was easy enough since shaking his head made him regret it immediately.

“I’m too old for this crap.” He mumbled, closing his eyes and trying to not focus on the spinning in his head.

He tried to take some deep breaths, to calm himself and only ended up having a coughing fit – which ended in bloody puke being pushing past his lips. He waited until he was just dry heaving before deciding he was alright enough to straighten up and open his eyes, wiping the tears away and being grateful no one was around to see him.

“Oh, c’mon!” He sighed, wrinkling his nose at the puke in the back seat.

That was definitely going to be a bitch to clean, especially at – he checked his watch – 2:30 in the morning.

Well that’s just great. He thought, scrubbing a hand down his face.

 

 

Finally. Dean sighed, his aching body hitting the mattress, barely glancing at the clock that read 4:30.

He’d scrubbed the spot until his hands were raw before thinking of how odd it would look if just the back seat was clean, so he ended up giving Baby a complete cleaning, oil change and tire checks included.

He’d also broke down and walked to the closest drug store (which seemed much father away when he kept stopping every two minutes to catch his breath and wait out his swimming vision) in the hopes of buying some of the good stuff, or at the least, stealing it.

But apparently the drug store wasn’t open that late (imagine that) and he was too tired to break in, so he walked back empty handed, which felt as if it took at least double the amount it did to get there.

Least I can sleep now. He thought, letting himself relax into the crappy excuse for a bed.

“Dean – time to get up.”

Dean groaned and flinched his leg back at the slap but otherwise didn’t move.

“Dean, c’mon – let’s go!” Sam yelled, throwing what Dean assumed was his duffle on top of him, knocking the wind from his lungs.

His eyes flew open and he bolted upright, gasping for breath, hands instinctively going up to his chest, his duffle falling to the ground.

“You got ten minutes!” Sam called before the door closed.

Dean grumbled and looked at the clock – 5:00am.

Fuck.

He went to stretch his arms over his head but was stopped by a shooting pain blazing from his right shoulder.

Great, now what? He thought, making his way to the bathroom for a shower.

He was stunned by his reflection – he’d gone pale as a sheet and his eyes looked sunken.

“Jesus.” He breathed, bringing a hand up to touch his face, making sure it was really him.

He started the water and peeled his sweat-soaked shirt off carefully, not liking the way his whole upper body complained – apparently he was too old for this. He stepped in carefully and sighed as the water hit his body, feeling the heat envelope him like a blanket.

Dean hadn’t even realized he was freezing until that moment. He held his head under the water and closed his eyes, smiling as he felt the pounding of water on his scalp. The steam was also helping clear his sinuses and, dare he say – he didn’t feel like complete crap in that moment.

Naturally, he was wrong and dropped to his knees just in time to feel bile fly past his lips for the second time that night. He reached his hand out to steady himself against the wall, the physical connection also helping him to distinguish which way was up.

“Dean! Let’s go!”

“Alright!” He yelled back, internally cursing himself for his voice breaking.

He rinsed his mouth out before turning the water off and grabbing a towel, carefully stepping out of the tub and failing, slipping on the tile floor, before a quick spin of colours went passed his eyes and he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head.

Crack!

He heard Sam burst in the door but couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, which he knew somewhere in the back of his mind wasn’t a good thing – but was really too tired to care. He felt a change in altitude and a quick wave of nausea come over him, but defiantly swallowed it down, sending him into a round of coughing.

“Whoa – hey, breath, just breath.” Sam cooed, rubbing circles into his back.

Sam stopped as soon as the coughs did and Dean felt a shift in the air – confirming his suspicion that he coughed up blood.

“Dean, I need you to open your eyes.” Sam requested his voice low but concerned.

“T’red.” Dean replied, trying to turn his head away from the sudden onslaught of light.

“Yeah, I know you’re tired, but I need you to stay with me Dean. Okay? Just stay with me.” Sam said, not quite able to hide the rising panic in his voice.

“M’kay S’mmy.” Dean reassured, weakly bringing his hand up to pat his arm.

“Yeah, you’ll be okay Dean. Don’t worry.” Sam said hastily.

Dean relaxed more at those words and welcomed the blackness that threatened to overtake him, acutely aware that Sam was still talking in the background.

 

 

Dean came to slowly, feeling himself lying on a mattress – a good mattress.

His eyes flew open and he bolted into a sitting position, choking on a tube that was down his throat, before hearing what sounded like sirens and seeing a bunch of nurses rush into the room, some pushing him down and one empting a needle into one of his feeds.

 

“Mr. Weston, how nice of you to join us.” The doctor greeted.

Dean looked around cautiously – it was bad enough he didn’t remember what the hell happened, but he woke up in a hospital.

“You gave us quite a scare.” She continued, walking to the end of the bed to grab his chart.

“You’re looking good now though – no doubt you’re feeling better?” She asked, peering at him from over her glasses.

“W-where the hell am I?” Dean stammered, his heart speeding up and mind going directly into hunter mode.

“You’re at Ramsay General. You don’t remember coming here yesterday?” She sounded almost skeptical.

He shook his head and felt his heart sink – he most certainly did not remember.

“You’re cousin called you in early yesterday morning, around five I believe-”

“Shit.” Dean swore, cutting her off.

“I’m sorry?” The doctor asked, looking offended.

“No, not you. S-my uh, my cousin – he must be worried. Can I see him?” Dean asked hopefully.

“Mr. Weston, while I applaud you for wanting to get going and not wallow, I don’t think you understand the full sight of what your body’s been through. You were about an inch away from death when you got here, and although you’ve made tremendous progress – I’d recommend you don’t over do it. We wouldn’t want to see you back here so soon, would we?”

“Mr. Kroger – please! You’re not allowed-”

At that moment Sam and a worried looking nurse burst through the door, her face red, Sam’s eyes going directly to the doctor.

“I’m sorry, Miss. He insisted.” The nurse said, a blush creeping up her face.

“You said twenty-four hours.” Sam stated, voice low, looking at her as if she were prey.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” The doctor asked, looking nothing but amused at the intruder.

“Five minutes.” She allowed before walking out and motioning for the nurse to follow her.

Dean took in how wrecked his brother looked – he was going to get one hell of a chew-out for this, he could tell.

“Sam – listen, I’m-”

Dean cut himself off with surprise at the look Sam gave him – it was the same way he looked at him after the first time he saw him when he got back from Hell.

“Sammy, I’m okay.” Dean reassured.

“No, you’re not.” Sam shook his head, taking in all the machines around his brother.

“I-”

“Damn it Dean!” Sam yelled, spinning around in a circle.

“Sam-” Dean started, his eyes on the back of his head.

“Don’t even bother with that ‘I’m fine’ crap!” Sam screamed, pacing and looking like he needed to punch something.

“They told me you died Dean! You flat lined twice!” Sam spat, fingers running through his hair, knuckles turning white.

Dean was absentmindedly surprised that he didn’t end up ripping any of it out with the amount of force he must’ve used.

“Sammy-”

“They told me I lost you!” Sam roared.

Again.

Neither brother said it, but the word hung in the air between them anyway and took Dean’s breath away. How could he have missed that? No wonder he was so wrecked.

“They told me I-” Sam choked, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Dean slid out from the bed and walked to his brother, wrapping him up in a much needed hug, squeezing him tight to his chest. Sam hugged him back just as hard and couldn’t hold back his tears any longer, letting them free fall – soaking the stupid hospital gown the eldest wore.

“Sh, Sammy, I’m okay. I’m okay.” Dean whispered, rubbing circles into the giant’s back.

“You were gone and I – I couldn’t-

“Sammy, its okay, just breathe. I’m alright.” Dean cooed, moving his hand up to pat his hair.

Sam let go and took a few steps back, sniffing and wiping at his eyes, looking embarrassed, much to Dean’s surprise.

“I know. I’m alright.” Dean repeated, walking over to where his clothes laid in pile.

“Whaddya say we get out of here, huh? Before they discover you’re not related to that diva?” Dean offered, looking to Sam who still looked stunned.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah? Uh – yeah. S-sounds good, I’ll uh – I’ll wait in the hall.” Sam replied, before making a move for the door.

“Eh, Sam?” Dean called, effectively stopping his brother.

“Yeah?”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t have found a way back.”


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The Little Dreams

Written: 14.02.27

Sabriel


Sam was sitting at the table in the corner of the room, his eyes red from reading unhelpful article after unhelpful article about which was the correct method to kill the thing they were currently hunting. All of them claimed to ‘actually work’, which made Sam snort because if they all worked he and Dean wouldn’t be here. Dean was out talking to witnesses, would probably be back in an hour or so, giving Sam less time than he’d originally wanted to try and find something that had a hope of working.

“Gabriel? What are you doing here?” Sam asked startled as the archangel suddenly appeared sitting on top of the desk.

“What? You don’t want me here?” Gabriel asked innocently.

“No – it’s just – I’m working.” Sam stuttered, feeling his face turn red.

“Exactly why I’m here Sammy-boy. You need a little break.” Gabriel replied, reaching forward to close the laptop.

“Ugh – thanks?”

Sam watched as Gabriel started laughing, suddenly too dumbfound to move or find his voice. His laugh was so genuine, Sam realized, he’d never heard the creature before him make that sound before. It wasn’t the ‘My-God-how-stupid-are-you?’ laugh of the Trickster or the ‘I’m-way-better-than-you-suck-it’ laugh of the cocky archangel, this laugh seemed to be saying exactly what it sounded like – it was pure laughter that meant that Gabriel thought something was funny. It was the most magical sound Sam had ever heard – cursing himself for only being able to use such a stupid cliché to describe it – and he knew instantly that something was off. Not good off, but not bad off either, something just wasn’t right, and despite not wanting to, Sam knew he’d have to figure out what it was.

“C’mon Sammy, you don’t have to get right back to work do you?” Gabriel asked, pleading evident in his eyes.

“I – I guess not.” Sam replied, trying to ignore the soft tug he felt in his chest.

Gabriel’s eyes lit up and he jumped over the laptop, landing in Sam’s lap, wrapping his hands around his neck. Sam looked at him startled, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

“Hi.” Gabriel smiled.

“Hi.” Sam said, smiling back and hoping Gabriel couldn’t feel his rapid pulse.

Gabriel smiled softly, almost tenderly at him before resting his head down on Sam’s shoulder. Sam brought his arms up to wrap around the small man on his lap, telling himself that it was because he didn’t want him to fall, not at all because he didn’t want the angel to leave. Gabriel sighed and Sam felt the tingle of breath against his neck, feeling oddly at peace, regardless of what was going on. Sam rested his head slightly on top of Gabriel’s, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of Gabriel – it was a sweet mix of rain, freshly mowed grass, mint and a hint of chocolate.

“Sammy?” Gabriel asked after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, mumbled by his hair.

“I need you to do something for me.” Gabriel stated, rubbing his head against the hunter’s neck, trying to snuggle himself closer.

“Anything.” Sam promised.



“Sam!” Dean’s voice cut through the peace and Sam raised his head, irritably looking around.

Sam blinked and saw his brother straddling his lap on top of the covers, looking scarred shitless. Sam took a moment to let the room come back to him, he was in the same motel but he was in the bed, not sitting at the table in the corner where his laptop was.

“Jesus Sammy, you couldn’t have woken up sooner?” Dean grumbled, climbing off the bed.

“Dean?” Sam asked confused, looking down at himself and realizing that he was only wearing a tank top and boxers.

“Yeah genius, it’s me. I need to go out to talk to some witnesses and I need you to start poking around the web, try to get anything useful to gank this bitch.” Dean instructed, before grabbing the keys to the Impala and waiting at the door.

“Oh, okay.” Sam said, getting up to fish around for some actual clothes.

“Let’s go Princess, we haven’t got all day!” Dean exclaimed.

“What? You said I was on research duty.” Sam stated.

“After breakfast you moron, let’s go. Or did you forget that we promised Cas to meet him at the diner?” Dean asked impatiently as he watched Sam pull on some clothes.

Sam just nodded and avoided looking at his brother, trying to shake that dream out of his head. He should’ve known that it was just a dream, there was no way that an angel, let alone an archangel would want to be with him. He picked up his duffle and walked toward the door, where Dean finally stomped out of the room. Sam looked over to the table with the laptop with a sigh; he kind of wished that he didn’t wake up.

Don’t worry Sammy – that was just a little taste of what we’ll be doing later.


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