Tag Archives: TAF

The Moment I Knew (Version 2)

Started: 17.11.14

Finished: 18.01.12

Words: 3,147

I actually completely forgot that I had written two versions and didn’t upload the second one. Sorry this is so late, but I hope you enjoy.

Based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name. (Listen to it here)

SF, Destiel, TW: Suicide (Mentioned)


“Cas?”

The mentioned turned away from the window, smiling as his eyes met emerald green.

“What’re you doing street watching?” the blonde flopped down on the couch and peeked through the blinds, “it’s just snowing.”

“I just needed a bit of quiet,” he couldn’t help the blush that crept up his neck.

“A bit of quiet?” Dean turned from the window to face him, “y’know it’s your party, right? You can tell them to shut up if you want.”

Cas chuckled and shook his head, “As long as they’re having fun and not breaking things, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Well then you definitely don’t want to miss this,” the taller man stood up with a smile, “Gabriel’s table surfing.”

“Table surfing? Where?”

“On the kitchen island,” Dean tucked his hands into his pockets as he leaned back to check it out, “aaand yep, just what I thought. He’s got your cake precariously placed between his legs.”

Cas shook his head and laughed again, “Remind me next year not to serve alcohol.”

The taller man chuckled, offering him a hand, “C’mon. Let’s get you back to your party.”

“Cas!”

The voice startled the black-haired man out of his thoughts. He blinked and looked around, boulder beginning to grow in his stomach at the lack-of-Dean. His eyes flicked up to see Gabriel sauntering over before turning back to the window. Where is he?

“Are you deaf? I’ve been calling your name for like an hour!”

Maybe he’s just late… his eyes scanned the empty street, hoping against all odds to see the blonde materialize on the sidewalk, he said he’d be here.

“Hello?” Cas blinked as Gabriel waved a hand at his face, “anybody home?”

He sighed and turned away from the window again, “What?”

The brunette waved a dismissive hand, “Man, stop wasting your time waiting for that dickhead. What did I tell you? He’s not showing.”

“You’re drunk,” the raven-haired man felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes at his brother’s words.

No-no-no-no, he’s wrong. He’ll be here. He has to. He failed to swallow the lump in his throat and willed the tears away.

“C’mon, you’ve got candles to blow out,” he slung an arm around his brothers’ shoulders before dragging him off in the direction of the kitchen.

“You mean my cake didn’t fall during your surfing stunt?”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Surfing?”

“Yeah, on the-” he cut himself off and turned his gaze to the floor, oh.

The brunette’s eyes lit up with mischief, “Were you gonna say on the island? In the kitchen?”

“No…” wait, did he say I had to blow out candles?

Gabriel gave his brother a sideways glance, noting his saddening expression, “you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” I can’t believe it’s already that late. He better get here soon.

“Don’t worry little bro, I’ve never defiled your kitchen counter by surfing on it. Fooling around on the other hand…”

Cas shook his head and tried to push the sinking feeling aside, “You’re definitely drunk.”

“Pfft, naw,” Gabriel tripped on the lip separating the living room from the kitchen, before turning a lopsided grin to his brother, “okay, maybe a little. But it’s a party!”

The shorter man gave a tight smile as he helped him up, before going through the swinging kitchen door.

“Okay, sit here,” the raven-haired man was pushed into the only chair at the end of the island, before Gabriel scurried back out.

Everyone else began gathering around the table, continuing their conversations in hushed voices. Cas felt sweat break out across his neck, he knew it was his birthday, but the way no one was talking to him, and the way they all kept eyeing him while whispering, well… he wasn’t that stupid. C’mon, Dean, where are you? His eyes swept over all their faces absently while he waited, subconsciously searching for those emerald green’s.

Gabriel came back through the door, pushing it open with his back while he held the lit cake, face splitting with a grin as he made his way to the island, “Happy birthday…”

The room exploded with off-key singing as the cake was placed down in front of him. Cas couldn’t help feeling like the wind had been punched out of him when the cake was put down – it was like it cemented the fact the one person he wanted to be there the most, wasn’t.

He said he’d be here, he felt tears prick back at the corner’s of his eyes, this time failing to blink them away. He closed them in the hopes of keeping them at bay and tried to swallow the lump in his throat, I can’t believe he didn’t-

“Don’t wish for too much, Cas.”

He opened his eyes to see Gabriel starring at him, nodding toward the still-lit cake. Taking a quick look around the room again, maybe I just missed his face, he realized everyone was starring at him. Some confused, others leaning over to whisper to their neighbour.

“I-I don’t-” I can’t do this, he got up, avoiding his brother’s questioning gaze and all but ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He sunk to the floor as he felt the tears begin to fall, he promised…

 

 

Winchester!”

 Dean slid out from under the car he was working on to see his boss, chest heaving, face red, stomping toward him.

“Where the hell is my daughter?”

“Probably still sore from last night,” he smirked before sliding back under.

He felt his boss’ boot catch the end of his creeper, yanking him back out. The blonde glared up at the other man, I don’t have time for this.

The vein in his head began throbbing as he narrowed his eyes, “You want to try that again?”

The blonde ran a hand through his hair, shrugging.

His boss stomped his foot, face almost purple, “You will show me some respect, Diana!”

Diana? You really want to go there? He sighed before standing up, towering over his boss, “Sir, if I knew where your daughter was, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, keep making those jokes. We’ll see how funny you find them tonight,” his lips curled into an evil smile.

“Tonight? I think you’re losing it man, I get off at six.”

His boss’ smile grew, face returning to a somewhat normal colour, “Is that so? Interesting,” he took a few steps away, mindlessly looking over his tools, “I could’ve sworn the schedule said you were covering for her tonight.”

“Covering for her? You mean taking the graveyard shift?” Deans’ hands balled at his sides, no chance in hell, pal.

“That’s the one,” he picked up a screwdriver, smiling at it, “such a gentleman, you are.”

The blonde grit his teeth and had to use all his willpower not to punch him, “How so?”

He put the tool down, out of place, before meeting his eyes, smiling sweetly, “Offering to cover her shift without pay, of course.”

“Listen, if you think-”

“No, you listen,” he was back in his face again, eyes sparkling dangerously, “The only reason I don’t fire you,” he dropped his voice, “is because I promised your father. But if you ever talk about her like that again you will be sleeping under the bridge off 33rd Street and fighting over a barrel fire. Do I make myself clear?”

Deans glared in response, knuckles turning white at his sides.

“Don’t forget who owns who.”

He backed off again, clapping his hands, “Okay, good talk,” he looked around the shop and spotted the other two mechanics watching, “What’re you looking at? Get back to work!”

They both jumped at being caught and rushed back over to their cars, keeping their eyes on their work. His boss pulled the lapels of this suit, straightening it before walking back across the shop to his office.

Dean waited until he saw the office door close before knocking his toolbox to the ground, “Fuck!”

Tony and Mike looked up from their cars again, both men only coming marginally closer. Dean tugged at his hair, grinding his teeth together, if he thinks I’m staying for the graveyard shift, he’s got another thing coming.

 

 

Shit, Dean glanced at his watch before checking the positioning of the creeper, this’ll have to do.

He locked his tool box before grabbing his jacket, sneaking over to his boss’ office. He peered into the window and saw he was sitting, facing his computer. The blonde quietly came around the other side of the office, pressing his ear to the door. He held his breath as he listened.

Just as I thought, he smiled, shrugging on his jacket as he heard soft snores. He strolled over to the door before taking one last look around the shop. Nodding to himself that everything was in order, he walked out the door.

“Damn!” he pulled his jacket tighter around his chest as the cold hit him.

Jogging to his car, he fumbled with his keys, fingers already freezing. Oh c’mon!

After what felt like forever he finally wretched the door open and climbed inside. He spent a minute rubbing his hands up and down his bare legs, making a mental note to start leaving an extra set of clothes in the car. Thank God I did laundry last night, he rubbed his thighs through his boxers.

He took his phone off the seat next to him, punching the speed dial before bringing it to his ear, please pick up… please pick up…

“Hello?”

“Cas, hey, buddy, I’m so sorry, my boss was being a dick and gave me the graveyard shift, but I’m leaving now. I should get there-”

“I-it’s fine, Dean. You don’t have to come.”

Dean blinked, next sentence of his explanation dying on his lips as he took in his shaky voice, something’s wrong, “Are you okay?”

He heard a sniff, “Y-yeah, I’m fine. You don’t have to come over.”

You don’t sound fine, “Don’t be stupid, it’s your birthday, of course I’m gonna be there. I might’ve missed your brother making a fool of himself, but you and I both know the party doesn’t really start until I get there.”

“Dean,” his voice was hard, but the taller man didn’t miss the shaky inhale on the other line, “you missed the party. Everybody left.”

The blonde failed to swallow the guilt he felt building in his throat, “Oh.”

“Yeah, so just… it’s fine, don’t come over.”

Dean nodded, starring at himself in the rear view mirror, I should’ve been there, I should’ve left earlier then I could’ve- he cut himself off as he listened, heart breaking a bit as he heard the soft gasps of the man on the other line. He could picture him sitting there, hand over his mouth trying to keep the blonde from hearing him cry.

He closed his eyes, licking his lips, keeping his voice soft, “Cas,” what can I say? How can I make it up to you? “I’d still like to see you.”

“No, I-” another shaky breath, “you can’t.”

Dean felt his heart quicken, “What do you mean I can’t?” he was already jamming the key in the ignition, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Damn it, he threw the broken end of the key to the ground, eyes glancing skyward, you’re not gonna make this easy, are you? He looked around the lot, racking his brain for another idea, walk? No, it’s too cold for that. C’mon there has to be something I can-

He paused as he saw the old, broken down car in the corner of the parking lot, will it run in the cold? Time to find out, he climbed out of the car and all but ran to the other side of the lot, phone pressed tightly against his ear.

“Cas? You still there?”

“Yeah…”

“I’m on my way,” he tugged on the handle, not surprised to see it was unlocked.

“Dean-”

“I’ll be there soon, okay?” he dug through the glove box for the keys, “Don’t do anything… rash.”

A dry laugh filled the air, making his blood run cold.

His hand closed around the key, yanking it from the glove box, “Hey. Promise me you won’t do anything. Don’t even move-”

“Dean, I-”

“Promise me, Cas,” he jammed the key in the ignition, smiling as it roared to life.

“O-okay. I won’t move.”

“Good. Alright, I’ll be there in twenty,” he threw the phone down on the seat next to him before speeding out of the parking lot.

Hang on, Cas.

 

 

“No, no, no, no, c’mon baby!” he hit the steering wheel as the car began to slow down.

He was about halfway to Cas’ house, car running better then he’d hoped it would in the rain. Naturally, that was where his good luck ran out – now the car was dying as it tried to make it over the bridge. And it had started pouring. C’mon, I don’t have time for this, he turned the key again, swearing to himself as it didn’t start. He leaned his head back, eyes closed, scrubbing a hand down his face with a sigh, what the hell am I supposed to do now? He failed to ignore the feeling of dread that was settling into his stomach, he wouldn’t actually do anything stupid… would he? He spent all night with his brother drinking… something was definitely wrong when I called him earlier. Dean fumbled, hand searching the seat beside him for his phone, maybe I really am over-reacting, he hit speed-dial and brought the phone up to his ear, he’s probably fine, there’s no way he’d actually-

This is Cas. Leave me a message.

Shit. Dean ended the call before trying again, c’mon, Cas, don’t-

This is Cas. Leave me a message.

Shit, shit, shit, Dean was in the back seat, searching the car before his brain had registered he’d even moved, feeling of dread deepening. He double-checked the time on the dash, he shouldn’t be asleep yet, before he brought the phone to his ear, one more time.

He leaned his head against the window, struggling to see, “Why did it have to start raining?”

This is Cas,” He growled in frustration before snapping the phone shut and throwing it to the ground, I’ve got to get over there now.

How am I gonna get there? Stupid car, if only I could- he bit his lip, cutting himself off as his hands balled into fists at the realization, I’m gonna have to run it.

Fuck, the blonde ran his hands through his hair, eyes raising skyward, you’re really not making this easy, y’know that? I thought you were supposed to be the helpful one. He took a deep breath, picking the cell up off the floor, okay, alright, I got this. I can run it, sure it’s only ten blocks… in my boxers… in the rain… shit. No, okay, on the count of three.

One, he climbed back over into the driver seat, hand on the handle, two, he took in a deep breath and failed to banish the fact that the rain was coming down in sheets, three.

 

 

Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck! He wiped water out of his eyes, squinting to see the house numbers, 459… 459…c’mon, I know it’s- ah-ha! He ran up the driveway and pounded on the door, right hand tightening his grip on the cell.

“Cas!” He pounded on the door again, thankful for once that Cas had insisted on having a roofed porch.

“Cas! C’mon, man! Open the door!”

God damn it, he pounded once more on the door, before hoping off the porch, making his way around the side of the house to the window, you better be- he stopped when he saw the bathroom light was on, door ajar.

“Cas?” He tapped on the glass, wiping more water out of his eyes.

He failed to wipe the water from the screen, punching the raven-haired mans’ number, before bringing it to his ear, working his way to the other side of the house. He grit his teeth as he stepped through a bush, branches scraping against his bare legs. He peered into this window, thankful he had a better vantage point of the bathroom. He could see Cas’ legs stretched out in front of the door, not liking the boulder that was settling into his stomach. C’mon, Cas, pick up!

This is Cas. Leave me a message.

He pounded his free hand against the window, “Cas! Cas!”

Punching redial, he tried to calm his racing heart, he’s fine, I’m sure he’s just passed out from drinking. He always was a lightweight. And if he was alone with Gabriel-

“H-hello?”

His heart almost leapt out of his chest at the non-robotic voice, “Cas!”

“D’n?”

The boulder in his stomach grew, something’s not right, “Yeah, buddy. I told you I’d make it. Come open the door.”

Dean swallowed thickly, noting how laboured his breathing sounded, not liking how small his voice sounded, like he’s fading, “I-I’m outside, come let me in.”

He squinted into the house, willing his legs to move, twitch, anything. He waited a few beats, boulder growing with each shaky breath he heard come through the line.

“Cas? You okay? Come let me in, let’s-”

He heard a crash before seeing the phone fall to the bathroom floor. That’s it, he took a step back, checking out the window before kicking it. Glass shattered around him, mixing with the falling rain. It had barely exploded before Dean was already scrambling into the house, hands and knees getting cut on some of the pieces. He got himself back on his feet and all but ran to the bathroom, falling to his knees as he spotted Cas leaned against the bathtub, blood flowing from both arms.

“Cas,” his eyes welled up with tears, as he reached out to his neck, hoping to whoever was up there that he still had a pulse.

“God, Cas, what did you do?” He pressed his fingers into his neck harder, not liking the stillness he felt.

Dean peeled his shirt off in an instant, ripping it in half, “You’re gonna be okay,” he swiped at his eyes as he wrapped the shirt around his arms, “y-you have to be okay. Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll fix this,” his eyes scanned the room for something he could use to make him okay, I need you to be okay, “I’ll fix you. I can-”

He cut himself off and reached for the piece of paper that was on the sink, sliding it out from under the razor. He swiped at his eyes as he brought it down to his face,

Dean,

I’m sorry.

C

A strangled cry made it’s way past Dean’s lips as he pulled the limp body toward him, crushing it against his chest, “No, no, no, baby. Y-you? Y-you don’t-”

He buried his head into the shorter-mans’ hair, tears dampening the strands.

“I-I’m sorry, too.”


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All Over The Place





Written: 19.02.01

Words: 767

Wee!Chesters


“I’m hungry.”

He sighed, hanging his head lower, grip on the counter tightening, “I know.”

There was a moment of silence as the gears in his head turned, he couldn’t keep doing this – selling drugs for money, it wasn’t right. Not only because of the obvious dangers both sketchy addicts and otherwise – but more so because it wasn’t fair to his brother.

He was supposed to be taking care of him, not going out every night after he got back from school, only to come back at 3am reeking of cigar smoke and alcohol. He knew his brother wasn’t stupid either – Sammy knew he was doing something to earn the money he had, he just prayed he wasn’t quite smart enough to figure out exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to take it if he found out.

“… De?”

The blondes’ head whipped up and he saw his brother, holding out the ugly neon pink piggy bank he’d bought him last Christmas. His brows furrowed, “What are you-”

“Take it.”

“Sammy, no, I can’t. It’s yours.”

The kid huffed out a breath, pushing it against his brothers’ chest hard, eyes shining with tears, “Take it!”

Dean blinked in surprise, eyeing his brother, “Sammy?”

His brothers’ bottom lip poked out and he hung his head, hair falling to cover his face, voice shaking, “Don’t… don’t go out tonight, De.”

Dean felt himself pale, oh, God, no. He sucked in a breath, “Sam, it’s okay. I’m-”

“No!” The five-year-old stomped his foot on the ground, lifting his eyes to his brother, tears streaming down his face, “You don’t need to anymore!” He shook the piggy bank, “Let me help!”

The blonde rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, debating about what to do for a moment, feeling a boulder of guilt settle into his stomach, “… Okay.”

Sammy sniffed loudly, eyeing his brother as he took the piggy bank, “You won’t go out tonight?”

Dean smiled softly, ruffling his brothers’ hair before he sat down at the table, doing his best to keep the wince off his face, “I won’t.” He uncorked the bank, coins spilling all over the table, face falling slightly as he mentally counted the coins.

Sammy jumped up into his lap and looked over the table, before turning to him, “How much is it?”

Dean hid his disappointment and chuckled, “It’s exactly what we need, Sammy. Thank-you.”

The brunette narrowed his eyes before turning back to the coins, “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” he scooped the coins off the table quickly, placing them back into the bank, “Now I can go shopping later.”

“Why don’t you go now?”

“Because,” Dean placed his brother on the ground, going to stand up, “you have to go to bed first.”

“Aw, Dean!” Sammy rolled his eyes, “I don’t wanna go to bed!”

“Uh-oh,” Dean hid a hand behind his back, face going serious, “He doesn’t like that.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Tickles!”

Sammy squealed as his brother lunged forward, tickling hand stretched out in front of him, “No! No, not Mr. Tickles!”

“You better hurry! I think he’s hungry!” Dean chased his brother up the stairs, feeling himself relax as his brother giggled.

Sammy stopped mid-way up the stairs, stopping to turn confused eyes to the blonde, “Hungry?”

Dean nodded, continuing up, “He eats five-year-olds. He tickles them to death, and then eats them.”

His brothers’ eyes went wide and he continued up the stairs, practically flinging himself onto the bed, pulling the blankets up over his head. Dean chased him in, jumping on the bed before tickling his brother over the covers, chuckling as he began laughing hysterically.

“No! Dean,” the brunette was gasping for air within minutes, “Stop!”

“Okay, okay,” he gradually stopped tickling and let his brother up from under the covers, face red from lack of oxygen. He waited a moment, relaxing as his face returned to a normal colour, before reaching for the duffle bag that was stashed under the bed, throwing some clothes at him, “Go shower.”

Sammy let out an exasperated sigh, “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Dean nodded matter-of-factly, “Unless you want Mr. Tickles to come back…”

“No! No! Okay,” Sammy hopped off the bed and ran to the doorway, pausing, “You won’t go shopping until I’m back, right?”

Dean gave him his thousand-watt-smile, “And miss story time? What do you think I am, a monster?”

Sammy smiled before disappearing around the corner. Dean starred after him, stretching himself out on the bed as he picked up one of the books on the nightstand, thanks, Sammy.


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What We Get To Be




Happy New Year everybody!

Hope you all had an awesome holiday break, and are ready to get back into the swing of things.

Posting will continue on with it’s regular schedule. (TAFs every other Friday [next fic Feb. 22nd, etc.], articles every other Monday [Feb.11th, 25th, etc.] , and Product Reviews every 13th of the month)

This is this years’ Valentine’s Day fic. Hope you enjoy the Valentine’s holiday whether you’re with that special someone, a group of friends, or are rockin’ stag.

This fic was inspired by the song Rewrite The Stars from The Greatest Showman. Specifically the lyric: It’s up to you, and it’s up to me, no one can tell us what we get to be.

You can listen to the song here.

Written: 19.01.18

Words: 299

NFF


“Fuck!” She ended the call and slammed the counter.

“Uh, is everything okay?”

The voice from behind her made her jump, heart beating faster as she saw it was him, please, not today. He leaned down on the counter, a smidge too close for someone who was just a ‘friend’.

“I’m fine, I mean… I can handle it,” she shoved her phone back into her pocket and did her best not to squirm under his gaze.

“I know you better then that,” he brushed his hand against her arm, dropping his voice, “You need a place to stay, don’t you?”

She took a breath and slid her arm away, “You know I can’t let you do that.”

“Says who?”

“Pfft,” she gestured broadly to the rows of desks outside the small kitchenette, “Take your pick.”

“You think I care what they think?”

“You should, if it got out that you were even thinking about being with me, it’d-”

“Hey,” he moved himself closer again, this time placing his hands on her shoulders, “let me worry about the press. You just worry about getting yourself to my place.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, “I won’t be known as the one who wrecked your reputation!” she took a few steps back, turning her back to him as she felt her eyes fill with tears, “You’d never forgive me.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder, and she savoured the comfort it brought. After a moment, she took a deep breath and turned back around, “You know if you do this there’s no going back, right?”

“If being with you is gonna wreck my reputation,” he pulled her into his chest, kissing her forehead, ignoring the gasps that came from behind him, “then it’s a reputation I don’t want to have.”


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Countdown




Happy New Year!

This is the last fic of the year! Next fic will be posted Jan. 11th

NFF

Words: 826


Okay, tonight’s the night, we’ve been dancing around each other all year, he felt his palms get sweaty as he tried to psyche himself up, starring at the girl from across the room. It’s New Years Eve for Christs’ sake, people always kiss on New Years… don’t they? He took a deep breath, wiping his hands on his pants, okay, here we go.

He took a step forward, before being stopped by his – extremely drunk – friend, Pete.

“Hey, Dave!” even over the blaring music he could tell his friend was yelling, “You kiss ‘er yet?”

The brunette promptly smacked his hand across Petes’ mouth and dragged him a few feet away, shaking his head, “Can you keep your voice down?”

Pete nodded, eyes wide with surprise. He removed his hand, before immediately looking back at the girl. Pete turned to look before letting out a huff, “You ain’t just gonna stare at ‘er all night, are ya?”

“No,” Dave shifted his weight, “I’m gonna kiss her. At midnight.”

“At midnight?” Pete let out a bark of a laugh, “That’s some rom-com shit, ya know that?”

“No it’s not,” He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling his cheeks heat up, “People kiss at midnight all the time.”

“Yeah,” Pete swayed slightly on his feet, wrapping an arm over his shoulders’, “If they’re goin’ out, maybe. Not out of the blue. That’s just weird,” he took another swig from his cup, looking at the girl with a sigh, “Kissin’ a stranger at midnight… pfft…”

Dave chewed his lip, maybe he’s right, maybe… wait, why am I taking his advice? He flicked his eyes back to his friend, “How would you know?”

Pete blinked in confusion, “Huh?”

“How would you know what’s weird? You’ve never kissed a girl before.”

“Dave, my man,” Pete turned so he was standing directly in front of him, “Ya don’t gotta kiss ‘em to do other stuff,” he wiggled his eyebrows, shit-eating grin splitting his face, “know what I’m saying?”

“Ugh,” Dave pushed his arm off him, “You’re disgusting.”

Pete shrugged, stumbling away, “But I’m right!”

“Here we go everybody!” The whole place went silent and everyone turned their gazes’ to the clock, “10!”

Dave shook his head, it’s almost midnight already? Shit. He took a deep breath before starting toward her, here goes nothing.




 

She spotted him halfway across the room, starring at her. She quickly looked away, unable to help but smile, please come over, please come over, please come over…

“Hello? Emily?”

She turned back to her friend, hiding the blush by taking a drink, “Sorry, what?”

Lola rolled her eyes, “Of course you weren’t listening,” she flicked her eyes over to the boy before sighing, “This is getting ridiculous. Just go talk to him!”

“I can’t!” She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, “We haven’t really talked all year and then suddenly I want to kiss him at midnight? It’d be too weird.”

“You what?” Lolas’ face lit up, “You want him to kiss you at midnight?”

“What? No, I didn’t-”

“Shay! Katy, get over here!” Lola all but pulled their two friends to the ground with her force, “She wants him to kiss her at midnight!”

“Aaawww!”

Emily sighed, oh great… all three girls starred at her expectantly, “… Must we?”

“Yes.”

Emily shifted her weight from one foot to another, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal!” Katy shrieked, “Your first kiss ever is on New Year’s Eve at midnight?” she touched her heart, “It’d be so cute!”

Emily pretended to vomit, before giving her a pointed look.

“Oh, come on, Em,” Shay gave her a pointed look, “You can’t act like you aren’t excited.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Here we go everybody! 10!”

“You’re allowed to get butterflies when you like a boy, y’know,” Lola placed her hands on her shoulders, dropping her voice, “You are a girl.”

“9!”

“Get off of me,” she slipped out from under her hands before shrugging, “I don’t know why you guys are making such a big deal about this-”

“8!”

“We haven’t even talked the whole party, and it’s practically midnight. It’s not gonna happen, so just forget it.”

“7!”

The girls’ faces fell but they all nodded. They all wrapped her up in a hug, and she fought the sudden wave of sadness that washed over her.

“6!”

Emily shook her head, trying to shake the sadness away as she turned her attention to the clock, “5!”

Guess there’s always next year.

“4!”

She felt a tap on her shoulder, heart stopping as she saw Dave, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. “Uhm… hi.”

“3!”

“A-are you okay? Do you need something?” She swore she could hear her heart hammering against her chest.

“2!”

He took a deep breath, before nodding to himself. He grabbed the sides of her face, sending a shiver down her spine, oh my God…

“1!”


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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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Puppy Love

Prompt from Rebekah: (17.11.13): Dean ‘saves’ puppy from streets. Sam can’t believe it but it makes him happy – Sam ends up taking care – Dean cuddles and pictures

Sorry this took me forever (and that I veered off the prompt), but I hope you liked!

Gen. Sam/Dean.

Words: 1,075


“Hey, uh, Dean?”

“What?” The blonde came around the corner to see Sam standing with his back to the door, his hands on hips, “Jesus, Sam! You couldn’t have showered first?” Dean covered his nose with his shirt, almost gagging on the post-run Sam stench.

“What the hell is this?” The giant half turned to face the elder who’d stopped in the doorway.

“What’s-” The eldest cut himself off as he was knocked to the floor by a pile of fur and slobber, “Cassandra!” He chuckled as the dog continued her assault on his face.

After the warm welcome he received the dog sat down directly in front of him as he climbed back to his feet, tail making a dull thud, thud against the floor.

Sam cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow expectantly, “Well?”

“… It’s a dog,” Dean patted her head before moving to the couch, the dog following obediently, “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I can see it’s a dog. I mean why is it here?”

“Oh… y’know…” The eldest rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, “She,” he sighed and shook his head, “she peed on my car.”

“… So you decided to bring her home?” Sam moved to follow his brother, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Look, I just…” he bit his lip and turned his eyes toward the furry being, starring up at him with her big eyes, “I tried shooing her away, but she didn’t listen. I opened the door and she just hopped right in like she owned the place. I figured, if I was gonna be stuck with her, I might as well feed her. She really needed it, too,” he pet her head softly, “You should’ve seen her, Sam, she was all skin and bone.”

Sam raised his eyebrow, “I thought you didn’t like dogs?”

Dean stood, hands balling into fists at his sides, “So what? You think I’d just let her starve to death?”

“Wha…? No, of course not! I was just surprised.” Sam eyed his brother, why are you being so defensive?

The blonde noticed the look on his brothers’ face and scoffed, before heading off into the other room, Cassandra following suit, “Leave it alone, Sam.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Good,” his brother stopped in the doorway, “Take a shower, will ya? We’re already gonna have to burn the couch!”

 




 

Sam stood under the spray of the water, gears in his head turning, why is he so obsessed with keeping the dog? He soaped up his body, turning so the water cascaded down his back, you’re using it – her- to fill something, I just don’t- his eyes widened as he made the connection, Cassandra! You’re using her to replace Cas!

“Well look who finally made the connection.”

The voice made him jump and rip the curtain open, eyes wild until he spotted the blonde perched on the toilet seat. Sam tilted his head to the side, allowing the water to wash the soap from his chest, leave me alone.

“C’mon, Sam. We never talk anymore,” the giant stiffened as he saw the devils’ shadow get up and make his way to the curtain, “we gotta make the most of our alone time.”

You’re not real, you’re not real… He pressed on the scar on his palm, squeezing his eyes shut. He opened them and sighed in relief as the devil was nowhere in sight. He finished his shower quickly and toweled off, swinging the bathroom door open, stopping in the doorway as he saw the dog a few feet away, just starring at him.

“What the hell?” He walked a few paces closer, hoping to get to his bedroom, when it started growling at him, “Uh… Dean?”

“What?”

The giant got closer to the dog, and it got up, before barring its’ teeth at him, beginning to growl. Sam stopped cold, halfway to his bedroom, what the hell? He held his one hand out, but dropped it back to his side when the dog began barking, “Dean?”

His brothers’ head poked out from around the corner, and immediately the dog ran over to him, demeanor changing completely. The blonde laughed and began petting her, while raising an eyebrow at his brother.

Sam stood there, shocked, “… Did you not just see how angry she was?”

“Angry?” His brother looked between the happy, tail-wagging dog and his brother for a moment, “…. This dog?”

“Yes, Dean, that one,” he took a step forward and the dog moved in front of Dean, beginning to growl again, “See?”

“Whoa, what did you do to her?”

Sams’ jaw dropped, he thinks I did something to her? “Nothing! I just came out of the shower and she was sitting there watching me.”

“Pfft,” Dean waved a dismissive hand, “She’s probably just protecting me.”

“Dean, I’m your brother,” he took another step toward the pair, ignoring the volume increase in the dogs’ growls, “she doesn’t need to protect you from me.”

Dean eyed him before disappearing around the corner, returning a moment later with a container of water, and a silver knife.

Sam snorted, “Dean, what…?”

His brother shrugged, handing the objects out to him, “Dogs are good at telling if a person is a threat.”

“Dud, c’mon, it’s me.

“She didn’t have a problem with my brother when he came back from his run.”

I’m your brother.”

“Prove it,” he wiggled the items in his hands.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, before grabbing the items, “Fine.” He took a swig from the holy water before pressing the silver knife against his forearm, raising an eyebrow at his brother, “Happy now? It’s still me.”

“Christo.”

Sam rolled his eyes before looking back to his brother expectantly.

“Okay, fine, you’re you.”

“Thank-you,” he went forward a few more steps and the dog began barking, “Dude, seriously?”

Dean shot her a look and she ran down the hall, stopping around what sounded like the front door. The blonde turned back to his brother with a smirk, “What can I say? Chicks dig me.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he made his way to his room, “Just train her.”

Dean gave a half-smile and shrugged, “Who woulda guessed?”

The giant stopped in his doorway, giving his brother a look.

Dean chuckled as he walked away, “Looks like your bad luck with women isn’t exclusive to humans.”


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Candy Coma




Words: 1,122

Wee!Chesters


“You can not where that.”

Sammys’ face fell, and he took the dollar store fangs out of his mouth, “B-but why?”

“Pfft, what do you mean why? Because we-” Dean caught himself. He took a moment, raking his brain for an acceptable excuse, and gestured vaguely at the costume, “It’s… y’know…”

The youngest frowned and looked down at himself, hands tightening into fists around the cape, “It’s the only costume we have.”

“Sorry, Sammy, it’s just…,” he strode a few paces to one of the beds, trying to swallow down the guilt he was feeling, “Dad would freak if he saw it.”

“Why?”

The blonde flopped himself down, starring at the ceiling while letting out a heavy sigh, “Cause, Sammy he just…” how am I supposed to explain this without telling him? “… doesn’t like Halloween.”

“But why?”

“Because he just doesn’t, okay?” Dean waved a dismissive hand toward his brother, “Now, go… do whatever it is you do.”

His brother cast his gaze to the floor, hands wrapping the cape tighter around himself, “But you said we could go Trick Or Treating.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it, damn it, “I don’t know if I want to go. I’m tired.”

“… You said we could finally go this year.”

“I know, and now I’m saying I don’t wanna,” he paused, lifting his head to look at his brother, “It’s not like the people here will have candy, anyway.”

“But… but,” the disappointment in his brothers’ voice pulled at his heart strings, “You promised!”

Dean shook his head, flopping it back against the pillow, “I know I promised, but things change,” he sat up, “Did you really think Dad was gonna let you go anyway?”

The youngests’ eyes were brimming with tears, bottom lip quivering. His brows creased in anger, hands falling away from his cape, before he stamped his foot, “Fine!” and made a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Dean rolled his eyes and got off the bed, padding over to the bathroom, “C’mon, Sammy, don’t be like that.”

“Go away!”

“Sammy-”

“Leave me alone!”

Dean crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to the door, “What’s your plan here, exactly? Lock yourself in the bathroom and miss Halloween altogether?”

“… It doesn’t matter!”

The blonde closed his eyes and failed to swallow the lump in his throat at his brothers’ tone – it was obvious he was crying. He sighed before turning his eyes to the clock, 7:30pm, he knocked softly on the door, “Dude, if you don’t come out of there you are gonna miss it. It’s already seven-thirty.”

“I don’t care!”

Dean huffed in annoyance, “Fine! Stay in there all night, then! See if I care! But when Dad gets back, you’re gonna have to explain to him that I stayed behind and we didn’t end up going out!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” The blonde stomped away from the bathroom, grabbing his coat off the bed, “If you’re just gonna stay in there all night,” he stomped to the motel door, hand on the knob, “then I’m gonna go out and have some fun! Alone!

 




 

Stupid Sammy, Dean kicked at a rock as he walked down the street, why does he have to be such a brat all the time? He crossed the street, taking out a cigarette, and lighting up, he should’ve known- Deans’ head whipped up as he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala, shit, he stamped out the cigarette as the car came into view.

He turned on his heel and ran as fast as he could back to the motel, praying to whoever was up there that he’d be able to beat his father home.

 

 

“Sammy?” Dean burst through the door, thanking his lucky stars his dad stopped at that convenience store, eyes immediately scanning the place for the mop of messy brown hair. “Sammy?” His heartbeat was in his throat as he searched the small room, not finding his brother. Shit-shit-shit-shit, where would he be? He knows better then to go out alone.

He surveyed the area, making sure his brother wasn’t there, before turning back to the door, surprised to hear a key in the lock. Damn, that was fast. What the hell am I supposed to tell Dad? He backed up a few steps, stealing himself against the giant as the door opened.

“Sammy?”

The brunette beamed at his brother, struggling with a large pillow case, that was practically overflowing with candy, “Look, Dean! I got so much!”

“That, uh, that’s great, Buddy,” Dean eyed the pillow case, eyebrows shooting up as he saw full-sized chocolates, “Where did you get these?”

His brother dumped the candy out over one of the beds, not looking up, “Here.”

“Here?” Dean was confused, he didn’t think people at the motel would’ve had candy.

Sammy shrugged without looking up, “Yeah, they felt bad because I had to go Trick or Treating alone… and since a lot of them didn’t think they’d get kids here, they had to give me candy out of the vending machine.”

You clever little… Dean whistled, impressed with his brother. He went over to the bed, looking over everything he’d got, “You’re one smart kid, you know that?”

Sammys’ grin widened as he climbed on the bed, beginning to sort out his candy, “I know.” Dean reached for one and was surprised when his brother slapped his hand away. At the look he gave him, the brunette shrugged, “You didn’t come with me, you don’t get any.”

“Wha-?” Dean eyed the pile, going to sit on the edge of the bed, “You can’t seriously- ”

Just then, John burst through the door, looking pissed. He was almost caked in mud from head to toe. He sighed heavily as he kicked the door closed, carefully taking his jacket off. He kicked off his boots before glancing at the boys, eyes widening as he saw his youngests’ spoils.

“Wow, Sammy, you did good tonight, huh?” John glanced at the other bed, pausing, “Dean… you didn’t get any candy?”

Dean shrugged, trying to calm his beating heart, “I’m too old for that, Dad.”

“Oh…” John gave a half smile before moving to the bathroom, turning the shower on.

“Can’t I just have one?” Dean leaned over the bed, doing his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Hmm,” his brother brought a hand to his chin, pretending to think, “Nope.”

“Dude, c’mon. There’s no way you can eat all that by yourself.”

Sammy picked up one of the bigger chocolate bars, not breaking eye contact with his brother as he took his time taking the wrapper off, bringing it to his lips, mischievous grin on his face, “Watch me.”


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The Tattoo Killer

This years’ Halloween fic, enjoy.

Words: 3,027


He wiped at the skin one final time, turning his tattoo needle off before inspecting his work. He nodded to himself, perfect. He placed the needle down, before wiping his hands with the rag, moving over toward the sink, half-turning to the girl in the chair, “Let’s get you prepped.”

 

 

“Where is he?” The detective burst through the door, eyes immediately going to the board.

Randy, his next in command, shook his head, eyes not meeting his boss’, “Had the right location , but it looked like we missed him by about an hour.”

“An hour?” The detective scrubbed a hand down his face, damn, “Do we have any leads on a connection?”

“Not yet, but Jims’ working on it.”

Frank nodded, “Good,” he turned from the board to face the other man, “Go get started on tracking down a back-up location. This guys’ on his way to becoming a serial killer, and I’d rather nab him before that.”

Randy nodded before rushing out the door. Frank eyed the board, you’re not getting the satisfaction, fucker.

 

 

“No, please!” The blonde thrashed against the straps pinning her to the chair.

“Sh, sh, sh,” his expression softened as he pet her hair, “Don’t worry, beautiful, I’m not gonna kill you.”

She stopped struggling and glared at him, “Then why am I tied to a chair?”

He tsk-ed before getting up, moving to the tray that held his tools, rearranging some of them, keeping his back to her, “I have something much more special planned for you.”

“Special?” She craned her neck, trying to get a look at the tray in front of him, “W-what are you gonna do to me?”

“Nothing…” he turned from the tray, opting to sit on the stool in the corner, “yet.”

 

 

How are you choosing them? Frank starred at the board, eyes roaming over the descriptions of the two vics – with the exception that they were both women, they couldn’t be more different – different eye colour, hair, height, weight, nationality, social status – everything. He brought his coffee cup up to his lips, why can’t I see it? he went to take a swig, looking surprised when he found it empty. He sighed as he got up, going over to the small kitchenette in the corner, they’re never actually random, there has to be something they have in common. He poured another cup, replacing the pot before heading back to the board, eyes catching as he passed one of the desks. Wait, he picked up a picture of one of his men, eyes instantly going to the tattoo that peaked out of the top of the shirt.

He immediately charged back to the board, eyes roaming over the autopsy photos, while he dug his phone out of his pocket.

“H’lo?”

“Tattoos.”

“… huh?” He heard Randy stifle a yawn, “What time is it?”

“I found the connection,” his eyes were glued to the two girls photos, “each vic had a tat – that’s how he’s choosing them.”

“What kind? A rose? Snake? Butterfly?”

“They’re different pictures,” he studied the photos carefully, “but something about them must bother him. That’s the only connection.”

He heard a sigh on the other end of the line, “Well, it’s not exactly like we can round up every woman who has a tattoo and bring her to the precinct.”

“Any chance Jim is still here?”

“At 3a.m.? I doubt it. But look, Frank, the guys’ not gonna-”

Frank pulled the phone away from his ear, groaning as he watched the low battery sign flash before the screen went black. Shoving it back into his pocket, he studied the pictures of the women, looking between the two tattoos, what am I missing?

 

 

She huffed out a tired sigh, why is he just sitting there? She tried moving again, not surprised when she was met with the binding force of the straps holding her down. I have to find a way out of here, she rested her head against the chair, starring at the ceiling, what am I supposed to- her eyes caught on a drip in the corner of the room, would that work? She turned her eyes back to him, would he buy it?

“E-excuse me, Sir?”

He didn’t bother to turn, rude, “I was just wondering… since we’re not doing anything… do you think I could go to the bathroom?”

“Bathroom?” His back straightened, hands stopping whatever they were doing.

She failed to swallow the lump forming in her throat, “Y-yeah. Y’know, a bathroom? Usually has a toilet and sink?”

He half turned, “Why would you need to go to a bathroom?”

She rolled her eyes, “Gee, I don’t know,” he swerved his stool around to face her, eyes dark, her heart skipped a beat, “I-I need to pee.”

His eyebrows went up, as if he’d never considered that before, this guy kidnaps people and straps them to a chair but doesn’t know what to do if they need to pee? He nodded to himself before getting up, coming over to where she was bound. He grabbed a pair of handcuffs off the tray, before beginning to undo the straps. I can’t believe he’s actually buying this, her heart sped up, beating harder against her chest, now all I have to do is time this right… She chewed her lip as he undid the straps, carefully placing a knee on her as they fell.

“Hold up your hands.”

She complied, getting her good first look at the room as he clicked the cuffs around her wrists. Her eyes immediately went to the tray, hoping for a weapon, but finding small bottles of paint and a needle, is that… tattoo supplies? Her eyes went to the table against the opposite wall, it was littered with drawings, was he… gonna tattoo me? What the fuck?

He roughly grabbed her by the elbow, hoisting her off the chair before pulling her toward the door. They entered a hallway, and she instantly felt the temperature drop, wind, she looked to her left and saw a ladder resting against the far wall, please let that be a door. He shoved her into a small bathroom, standing at the entrance before looking at her expectantly.

She reached for the door, but was stopped by a hand on her wrist, his expression stern, “The door stays open.”

“I can’t pee if you’re watching.”

He rolled his eyes before turning around, so he was facing out into the hall, “Better?”

“Hardly.”

“If you don’t want to pee I’ll just-”

“No! No, it’s fine,” she went over to the toilet, sitting on it, “Just… don’t look, okay?”

“I promise.”

She kept her eyes on him, as she gathered her hair on the top of her head, wrapping it up in a secure bun. Now the hard part, she turned on the seat, carefully lifting the lid to the toilet tank up, don’t drop it, don’t drop it, she got it into her lap and sighed in relief. Okay, she got up, steeling herself against what she was about to do. She could swear she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Doing her best to keep her breathing even, she got up from the seat slowly, tiptoeing back up to the man, thanking her lucky stars that she had decided on flats that morning.

“I don’t hear any-”

She swung the tank lid at his head, meeting it with a sickening crack. He stumbled forward, hands instantly going to his head. She side-stepped him, hitting him again as he blindly tried to grab for her before she tore off down the hallway, aiming for the ladder. Keep going, keep going, she was panting as she went, practically leaping up the first few steps of the ladder. She climbed up as fast as she could, thankful when she saw it did lead to a hatch door.

She turned the handle and pushed, boulder dropping into her stomach as it didn’t budge. No… c’mon! She turned the handle again, pushing harder against the hatch. No! She began pushing on it with all her strength, hearing the footsteps of him behind her, c’mon, please! Open you stupid thing! Tears began streaming down her face as her chance of escape vanished.

Hearing footsteps approaching, she began getting desperate, slapping and punching the metal of the hatch, willing it to open with every fiber in her being.

“Now why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?”

She felt his hand wrap around her ankle, as she wrapped her hands around the handle, white-knuckling it. He chuckled before yanking her foot away from the ladder, her other foot blindly kicking out at him.

She kept her eyes glued to the hatch, “Help! Help me! Please!”

He pulled her downward again, this time her grip on the hatch loosening, sending her falling down the ladder. No! She began kicking and punching at him, as he pulled her back to the floor, tears streaming down her face.

“Sh, sh,” He wrapped her up, pulling her into his chest from behind, keeping his voice low, “Don’t cry, Doll,” he began rocking her gently from side to side.

She could feel the blood dripping off his face begin to soak into her shirt as he held her, unable to do anything but cry.

“Aw, Babe…,” he reached one hand up to pet her hair as he lifted her, walking them back toward the room she’d woken up in, “Did you really think it was gonna be that easy?”

 

 

“Theresa Mack, 23, found this morning.”

Frank watched as Randy pinned the newest victims’ picture up to the board, knuckles white around the edge of his desk.

“EMTs found a tattoo of Pinocchio sitting on a toilet on her palm.”

“That’s an interesting choice of ink,” Jim chuckled.

Randy turned to Frank, “It was fresh.”

Franks’ eyebrows raised, “What do you mean it was fresh?”

“EMTs estimate the tat was done after death.”

“There goes our theory of him targeting women with tats,” Jim sighed, throwing a file down onto his desk.

Franks’ eyebrows disappeared into his hair, why would you tattoo them after?

“Daddy!”

Frank turned, seeing his daughter run toward him, wife hesitating in the doorway, “Hi, Princess.”

She gave him a toothy grin and all but flung herself at him, squealing in excitement as he picked her up.

“Jim, can you take her to get some food?”

“Uh, sure,” he stood, walking a few steps toward the kitchenette, “C’mon, Kiddo.”

“Pocho!” She grabbed the picture of the third victims’ tat off her fathers’ desk.

“No, Sweety, that’s not,-”

“Bad!” She waggled her finger at him, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Sorry,” Jim took her by the hand and led her away.

Frank rubbed his chin, I wonder… “Pinocchios’ nose grows when he lies, right?”

Randys’ brows knit together in confusion, “Yeah, why?”

“What if…,” Frank rubbed his chin, “What if he’s tattooing why he killed them?” At the blank stare he kept going, “Pinocchio could be a symbol for lying, so maybe he killed the third vic because she lied to him about something. What were the other vic’s tats?”

“Uh,” Randy flipped through the file, “First vic had a broken lock over her heart, second was a clock on her wrist.”

“Hmm, so what if the first vic broke his trust somehow?”

“That’d be one hell of a ballsy move, tattooing why he killed them… do you think he’d be that brash?”

“Sir!” Tim burst into the room, looking excited, “We just cracked the first two vics’ phones, they used the same dating app.”

Frank and Randy exchanged a look, “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Tim took a breath as he handed over the file, “Jane just confirmed it.”

“What do you wanna bet Theresa used the same one?”

Frank tried to hide his smile, “Get Jane to set up a fake account, so we can finally catch this fucker.”

 

 

“Are you sure about this?”

“We’ll be with you the whole time,” Franks’ voice came out of her earpiece as she looked around the restaurant.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

“Time to earn your stripes, newbie.”

Jane turned to see a tall man, blonde hair, blue eyes, standing by her table, “Are you Jane?”

She nodded, standing to shake his hand, “And you are…?”

“Lucas,” he pulled her into a hug, inhaling deeply before letting go to sit down.

He’s already creepy, she plastered a smile on her face and flipped open the menu, “What looks good?”

“Hmm,” he opened his own, eyes skimming the pages, “Perhaps the lobster?”

Jane laughed, “On a first date? Isn’t that kind of,” she paused at the look he gave, “… expensive?”

He raised an eyebrow before reaching into his breast pocket, throwing down a gold credit card, faint smile on his face, “Moneys’ not a problem.”

Jane glanced at the card, keeping her expression as calm as she could, “… Are you married?”

“Of course not,” he narrowed his eyes at her a bit, “why would you ask that?”

Abigail Lawrence,” she picked the card off the table, “That is a womans’ name, no?”

He blinked in surprise, before breaking out into a smile, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck in attempted embarrassment, “Okay, you caught me. It’s not mine.”

“So…,” she placed it back down on the table, “You’re not rich?”

Lucas shook his head, not meeting her eyes, “I was just trying to impress you. To be honest,” he looked around the restaurant at all the other people wearing evening wear, squirming a bit, “All this high class stuff makes me uncomfortable.” He eyed her for a moment, before reaching across the table to take her hand, “Do you wanna get out of here? I know a great pizza place a few blocks away.”

She felt her heartbeat quicken as she nodded, “Sure.”

They left the restaurant, and she shivered. He immediately slid his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders, leaving his hands on her as they walked.

“So,” she took a deep breath in an attempt to steady her voice, “what do you actually do?”

“I’m a tattoo artist.”

“Really? Wow, that must be nice. Creating art.”

“Eh,” he kicked at a rock, eyes on the sidewalk, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I’m not that good.”

“Every artist I know thinks they suck, I’m sure you’re work isn’t that bad.”

“Yeah?” He gave her a sideways glance, “I actually don’t live that far from here. Would you maybe wanna… see some of my work?”

“Oh, uh,” she pretended to fix her earring, as she adjusted her earpiece, “I’m not sure.”

“Do it. We’ll be outside the whole time.”

“I understand,” he frowned, shoving his hands into his pockets looking disappointed.

“Actually?” She placed a hand on his arm and did her best to keep her skin from crawling, “I’d love to.”

His expression lit up like a kid on Christmas, giant grin splitting his face, “Great, it’s just over this way,” he pulled her into an ally.

“Whoa, what uh,” she lightly pushed against his chest, “What’re you doing?”

“You think I can’t tell?” His expression changed, growing dark as he reached for her earpiece.

“What? No, that’s not what you-”

“Shut up!” He back-handed her, throwing the earpiece on the ground before stomping on it. He wrapped his one hand around her neck, getting impossibly close, evil smile twisting his features, “Now I’m really excited to show you my work.”

 

 

Jane came to, head pounding. She tried to get up but was barely able to get an inch off the chair before she felt the confines of the straps. She rolled her head to the side, seeing Lucas hunched over a table against the farthest wall, back to her.

“… Is this the part where you kill me?”

He swiveled around on his stool, brows’ knit together in confusion, “Kill you? Why would I kill you?”

She surveyed the small part of the room she could see, raising an eyebrow, “Is this not the room where you killed the others?”

“Yes but,” He huffed, turning back around, “They didn’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“They couldn’t see that-” he cut himself off before turning back, small smile on his face, “Ooohhh, you’re a bad girl. Trying to get me to open up?” He got up from the stool, closing the distance between them, petting her hair, “Your tricks aren’t going to work on me.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation,” she looked down at her body, “since it doesn’t look like I’ll be doing much for a while.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he raked his eyes across her body, “We’ll be busy soon enough.”

A loud bang from above made them both jump, cloud of dust coming out from the ceiling.

“What the hell was that?”

Lucas poked his head out the door, eyes going wide before locking it closed, rushing over to the chair, undoing the straps that bound her.

Her heart leaped into her throat, “W-what are you doing? What’s happening?”

“Sh,” he grabbed her roughly, pulling her off the chair, leading her towards the back wall. He pulled her to his chest, grabbing a knife off the shelf before spinning around to face the door, holding the knife to her throat, “If you scream, you die. Understand?”

She swallowed thickly, nodding while blinking back tears. Frank burst through the door in the next instant, gun drawn.

His eyes swept the room before they landed on the pair, gun pointing at the maniacs’ head, “Drop the knife!”

“Drop your gun.”

Frank went to take a few more steps into the room, stopping when Lucas shook his head, pressing the knife against her throat harder, “Ah-ah. Come any closer, and she dies.”

Frank furrowed his brows in concentration, knuckles white around the base of his gun, “Let her go.”

“Aaaww, but this one is sooo pretty,” Lucas eyed the detective, before pressing a kiss to her cheek, “You sure I can’t keep her?”

“Drop. The. Knife.”

“C’mon! Where’s your sense of-”

Bang!


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Chicken

Written: 18.09.28-18.10.05

Words: 1,486

Gen., Human!Cas


“You have to have pie!” Cas grabbed the cashier by the collar, nearly pulling him over the counter.

“I-I’m sorry, Sir,” the cashiers’ voice shook, “This close to Thanksgiving nobody has any left.”

“I need pie!” Cas’ grip tightened around the collar, cashiers’ eyes going wide in fright.

The teen swallowed thickly, eyes darting around, “Y-You could always make one.”

Make one? Cas thought for a moment, could I make one? He turned narrowed eyes back to the teen, “How?”

“There’s pie filling in Aisle Two,” at the continued stare, the cashier pointed behind them, “I-I’m not sure if we still have pie shells, though.”

Cas’ grip tightened more, “I can’t just serve them pie filling!” he hesitated for a moment, “… Could I?”

“If you wanted to.”

The raven-haired man dropped the cashier against the desk, breathlessly, bee-lining for the aforementioned aisle. Pie filling… pie filling… where is-ah! Cas’ eyes widened at all the different cans, blueberry, cherry, pumpkin, apple? Why are there so many?

He turned angry eyes to the cashier, “Why are there so many?”

The cahsiers’ eyebrows knit together in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Cas huffed in annoyance, “Which one do I pick?”

The cashier shrugged, taking a few steps toward the backroom, “Whichever flavour you like.”

I don’t know which flavour’s his favourite… he glanced at the clock on the back wall, and I’m running out of time! He swiped his arm across the shelf, knocking all the cans into his basket, I’ll just get all of them.

Okay, he threw the grocery bag down on the counter with a huff, starring into it with a mounting panic, what do I make first? He eyed the pie filling and the pie crusts, does pie take longer? He began lining all the cans out on the counter, starring over the flavours, I’ll start with these so I have time to perfect them for Dean. He grabbed one of the cans, placing it inside one of the shells, looking confused, that’s not how the picture looks… He picked the can up to inspect it. Upon shaking it, he heard a squishing, cheeks going red at his embarrassment even though he was alone, of course… it’s inside the can! He pulled a knife from a drawer, stabbing the top of the can – frowning when it didn’t open. He tapped the knife on the lid of the can again, sound of metal clinking against metal filling the air, how the hell…?

His eyes drifted slightly downward, toward the paper on the middle, he smirked as he turned the can on its’ side, taking the knife to the paper. The paper fell away from the can in a few slices, only to reveal more metal underneath, much to Cas’ dismay. The whole can is metal?

Huffing in rage, he grasped the can firmly in one hand and began sawing into it with the knife, using all the strength he could muster, “I… don’t…have…time…for…this.”




The Winchester brothers’ made their way through the bunker door, ears perking at the struggling noises coming from inside. Dean wiped blood from his eye as he nodded to his brother, the pair separating with their guns drawn, preparing to sweep the bunker. Fresh from a hunt, they were both still on high alert for any threats – even on Thanksgiving they didn’t get a break.

They moved into the hallway, where the grunting noises were getting louder. They stopped on either side of the kitchen doorway. Sam looked to his brother, holding his breath. At his brothers’ nod, they entered the room, raising their guns and startling the ex-angel.

“Cas?”

They lowered their weapons as they saw the kitchen island, full of food. There were about ten pies lining the kitchen island, used as a make-shift boarder around different dishes holding vegetables, and a giant hole, assumed to be the place for the bird in the ex-angels’ arms.

Cas put the roasting pan on the table, giant smile splitting his face, what’s on his face? before he threw his hands up in the air like an over-excited five year old, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Cas,” Deans’ voice was careful, hand out like he wasn’t sure what to expect, “What uh, what is all this?”

“I made you Thanksgiving dinner!” The raven-haired man took the oven-mitts off and untied his apron, gesturing to the stools set at the island.

The brothers’ shared a look as they approached the island cautiously. Sam took a stool, eyes roaming over the holiday spread, “Why uh… what made you decide to cook?”

“I thought you could use a good holiday memory,” he smiled as he handed each of them a beer, “y’know, instead of having somebody die.”

Dean snorted, taking a seat only when the youngest shot him a look, “Well it, uh, smells… great.”

Sams’ stomach grumbled almost as if on cue, cheeks going red as he looked over the table with a small smile, “What would you recommend we start with?”

Cas gestured to the bird in the middle of the table, “The main event, of course.”

Dean looked skeptical – it’s still pink for Christ sake –  but made his way around the other side of the island to grab the carving knife. He tilted his head to one side as he eyed it, “This looks pretty small for a turkey… how many pounds was it?”

“It didn’t say.” At the brothers’ look, he went to the garbage, pulling the container out, “See?”

Dean snorted again, shaking his head as he read the container, “Cas… this is a chicken not a turkey.”

“… Oh.”

“I’m sure it still tastes great,” Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, who was clearly trying to keep his laughter in.

“Yeah, I bet-” Dean cut himself off as he pushed the knife into the bird, being met with semi-frozen resistance, it’s not even cooked.

Dean looked up at the two men from the bird, boulder of guilt settling into his stomach as he took in the ex-angels’ fallen face, he looks like someone kicked his puppy.

“Dean?”

Not usually one to spare someones’ feelings, Dean shook his head, “Nothing, I’m sure it’s great.”

He used as much force as he could to dig into the semi-frozen bird, doing his best to keep a straight face as he placed the piece onto a plate.

“Here ya go, Sammy. First piece,” he handed the plate to his brother, praying he didn’t need to cut another.

Sam eyed his brother but accepted the plate. He took his knife to it, instantly realizing it was frozen, he opened his mouth before catching the look his brother was giving him. Reluctantly, Sam popped a piece of frozen bird into his mouth.

Cas’ face lit up slightly, “How is it?”

Sam moaned around the piece, nodding his head, “So…” he turned away slightly, doing his best to not spit it out, “so, good,” he gestured to Dean, “You should try it.”

“Nice try Sammy,” the blonde pushed the roasting pan slightly away from him, pulling over one of the pies, “You know I like my dessert first.”

Deans’ eyes caught the paintbrush sitting on the edge of the island, he… painted the pies? He rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, as he starred at the pie he pulled over, why would you paint it? Sighing, he plunged his fork into the middle, suppressing his cringe as the crust bent easily under the force, didn’t we show you how to use the oven?

“So, Cas,” Sam thankfully piped up, “Why did you make so many pies, anyway?”

The raven-haired mans’ cheeks flared red, and he adverted his eyes to the ground, “Well… I didn’t know which would be your favourite… so I bought all of them.”

Of course you did, Dean closed his eyes, boulder in his stomach growing. He slightly shook his head as he tried to cut raw dough with his fork, doing his best to make it look like he wasn’t struggling.

“Wow, Cas that’s… that’s really nice, thank-you.”

“Of course, you’re family.”

Damn it, Dean felt a tug at his heart strings, finally ripping the dough enough with his fork to get a piece, “Yeah, Cas, that’s… not necessary.”

He popped it into his mouth, fighting off his gag reflex. He chewed it, teeth clenching at the doughy texture, I can’t believe he actually ruined pie… The blonde swallowed it down, body shuddering as it made it’s way down.

“I can’t wait till next year!”

Dean nearly choked on his pie.

Cas’ face lit up with an ear-splitting grin, looking between the brothers’, “Yeah! I can cook while you two are out hunting.”

The brothers’ exchanged a look, before Dean shook his head, “I don’t think so, buddy.”

Cas’ face fell slightly, “But… why?”

“Cause next year?” Dean took another forkful of pie, slingshotting it at the ex-angel, “I’m cooking.”


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Friggin’ Siblings

Wee!Chesters

Words: 851


Sammy shrieked and pulled his t-shirt down over his privates as his brother burst into the bathroom, “Dean!”

“Sorry Sammy, but I just ran a whole mile and need to shower,” the blonde hopped around the small room in front of the tub, struggling to get his pants off.

“But I’m already in here!”

“I have to shower before Dad gets back, I get to help him on a hunt today,” he threw his pants behind him as he jumped in the tub.

Sammy growled as they landed on his head, this isn’t fair. He got off the toilet and washed his hands, before leaving the bathroom. Stupid Dean, he climbed up on his bed and took out a book, ‘I get to help on hunt’ ugh. He couldn’t of waited five more seconds? He begrudgingly started reading. He heard his brother start singing at the top of his lungs. He made a face, before struggling off the bed, padding over to pound on the wall.

“Dean!”

His brother just started singing louder, dang it. Sam huffed, before going back to the bed, are all brothers’ this annoying? Or did I get a special one? He starred at the wall, trying to think of a way he could get even with his brother.

Just then, their dad came in, he strode over to the first bed, gruffly throwing his duffle down, while sliding another out from under it.

“Where’s your brother?” He threw a few different things back and forth between bags, not bothering to look up.”

“H-he’s in the shower,” Sammy watched his father in part fascination, part worry.

John zipped one of the bags closed before tossing the other one back to the floor, kicking it back under the bed.

“Is everything okay?” Sammy couldn’t tell if his dad was scared or pissed.

The eldest wretched the door open, pausing a moment to finally look at his son, “I leave in five minutes.”

With that, he was gone. Sammy blinked, did he want me to tell him? His eyes drifted back to the bathroom door, Dean did want to go… Sammy sat on the bed, torn. On the one hand, Dean seemed really excited to go on a hunt, on the other, hunting was dangerous. Sammy had seen how badly some hunts could go, and it was more often then not that they both had to play nurse to John afterward. He didn’t even say what he was hunting… His eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall. He sighed before getting back off the bed, knocking on the door.

“Don’t tell me you have to go again already!”

“No, Dean, I-”

“You really need to get that looked at!”

“Dean, stop, I’m-”

“Maybe when dad gets back he can take you to the doctor. That is not natural!”

Sammys’ hands balled into fists at his sides, “Dean!

He stormed back into the bathroom, giving the shower curtain a death-glare.

“Sammy, what the hell?” A bottle of shampoo came flying out from behind the curtain, “Get out!”

“No! I-” The youngest cut himself off as the shampoo landed in the toilet, giving him an idea.

I know how to get him out. His face twisted into an evil smile and he tried to hold back his laughter.

“Seriously, dude, what the hell?”

“Sorry Dean,” he did his best to hide the giggles he felt, his fingers sliding down to the toilet handle, “I just forgot something.”

“Forgot something?” The blonde poked his head out from behind the curtain, taking in his brother and where his hand was placed, eyes going wide, “Don’t you dare!”

“Oops!” Sammy pushed as hard as he could down on the handle, before walking back out to the room with his chest puffed, grinning ear to ear at hearing his brothers’ scream.

“I’m so gonna get you for that!”

Sammy climbed back up on the bed, sliding his book back into his lap as he heard the water turn off. A second later, his brother came storming out, towel wrapped around his waist, eyes nearly slits. He looked up from his book as if nothing happened, “Oh, hi Dean.”

The blonde grit his teeth and started toward him, when John came back through the door. He gave his eldest a once over before rolling his eyes, “Going on your first hunt in that?

“Uh, no, Sir, I uh…” Deans’ eyes darted around the room and his cheeks flared.

“You have two minutes,” John all but slammed the door behind him.

Dean ran over to the bed Sammy was on, yanking his duffle out from underneath it, throwing clothes out behind him like a madman.

“Where is it? Where is it?” He dug through the duffle for a moment longer before pulling out a plain black t-shirt – that looked exactly the same as the other four that were on the floor behind him.

He dressed quickly, hopping around as he pulled on his shoes. He went over to the door, pausing in the doorway as he noticed his brother was still giggling.

“This isn’t over.”


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