Today, Dean returns from the thrift store with a collection of necklaces and rings, his life now in a place where he's not as worried about the inconvenience of jewelry in combat scenarios.
God, Sam in that shot from Jus in Bello gets me every time. Heâs been letting Dean deal with Henrickson, theyâve got this cat and mouse bullshit going on. But Henrickson suggests John was sexually abusive to Dean and he is locked in, sits shoulder to shoulder. Heâs looking at Henrickson. Henricksonâs enjoying baiting Dean, heâs probably just happy to also get a reaction out of Sam if he even notices at all. But Samâs got teeth too. Itâs the quiet ones you need to watch out for.
Yes I love that detail. Just moments before this Sam shoots Dean a subtle glare when Henriksen brings up them breaking out of the jail ("a long storied career of dumb and crazy"). He's been looking out the window, sits facing away from Henriksen, is listening but obviously trying to avoid engaging. Then Henrickson changes topics and Sam gets geared up. That slooow sit up, shoulder closest to Dean setting first before he squares the other one up. Mirroring his brother's body language as he fills the space Dean moves out of as he leans forward.
The conversation gets cut short by demons (rude) but if it had gone longer I bet Sam would have ended up standing in front of Dean, looming at Henriksen as best he can behind bars. I think that also would have been the first time they actually talked to each other on screen.
winchesters are fascinating. they had the rural southern gothic american feeling to them even though they were always on the road. no outsiders input or perspective but theirs. which is a very fucked up one and theyâre so secretive about the life too which raises suspicions
they have to lie to anyone who gets too close. normal folks wouldnât think itâs because they hunt monsters. of course not, why would they? instead theyâd think they were being molested or are in a cult. the big one bad touches the small one, their daddy being a rough redneck drunk doesnât help either. most people can sense how wrong they are. people can pick up signs when they pass through town and they arenât pleasant ones, theyâre beyond unsettling
many adults corner one of the brothers away from their dad to ask if they need help. especially sam. this makes dean blood boil. firstly for thinking theyâre being abused secondly for daring to take sammy away. he is the one watching over him. sammy is fine. if anything they should blame him! not dad
"Dean, come on, we have to get CPS involved somehow! This is the only option!"
"Absolutely not Sam, what the hell is wrong with you!? First off, we don't need CPS involved, I can handle it! Second off, are you out of your damn mind!? I'm not going to touch you like that, I will never touch you like that, and I seriously hope you don't want me touching you like that you little freak!"
Dean's not taking it well. Sam knew he wouldn't take it well but there is truly no other choice here.
Five days ago, the food ran out.
Usually when Dad takes a solo hunt and dumps them in the Motel Of The Week, he leaves enough cash for food that they can have at least one meal a day outside of school hours. The reason for the stinginess?
"You boys get two free hots every day at that school, don't make my tax dollars go to waste dammit."
Most days, it's a non-issue. Yeah the weekends get hard sometimes but then either school starts back up on Monday or dad comes home and the access to food is granted again and Sam can eat to his growing body's content.
Unfortunately, in the purest example of Winchester Luck, this county's school district starts summer vacation early. Meaning, their meager food cash left by Dad disappeared fast.
It's not like Dean can't budget. He's been managing money for him and Sam since before he could even properly understand the value of a dollar. But it just wasn't enough this time, and Dean hasn't had any luck yet in finding any bars lenient enough to let a clearly underage boy inside for hustling pool.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you wanna try the food pantry again Dean? Y'know, the one that refuses entry to those not part of their witch cult? We can get all demonic and worship together, worth a shot. We just have to join their commune and worship a demon from a freaking grimoire!"
The words spewing from Sam's mouth are coming out mean and he doesn't know why. He's frustrated, he's mad at Dean, and he's hungry, but he knows that Dean is hungry too. He knows that Dean blames himself for not somehow stretching the budget further when Dad didn't even leave enough for one person, let alone two growing boys.
This crazy town itself isn't helping either. The whole reason they're even here in Nowhere, 'ag-land' California is because of the stupid freaking cult run by a high-ranking witch coven. Dad has been stuck in deep cover attempting to infiltrate it for almost a month now. There's no way to contact him without blowing his whole operation wide open so Sam and Dean have to deal with their problems on their own.
Hence, the immediate and urgent need for Child Protective Services to take over so they don't starve to death.
Through any means necessary.
"I'm doing the best I can Sammy! You think I haven't been asking around? That I haven't been begging for food or money? I'll even steal for Christ's sake, there is no way I'm going to pretend to molest you to have CPS take us away! Fuck's sake, I'd go to prison! Do you even think about the words coming out of your-"
"But you won't, because I'll deny everything once we have their attention. You'd never actually do anything anyway so there'd be no evidence to hold against you and once CPS starts looking they can't ignore everything else anymore! We'd get food!"
"We'd get separated is what we would get! We'd get taken from Dad! They would never let me around you again if there was even the slightest suspicion of sexual fucking abuse, holy shit- I'm gonna pass out."
Sam feels bad. Dean is swaying in place now, hand over his mouth, trying to breathe like a normal person and failing at it. He's causing Dean distress.
But Sam is also distressed. He's hungry. He's so hungry that his stomach is constantly throbbing and he's in a neverending state of nausea and vertigo. Dean is dealing with it all better than Sam because of the muscle he packed on as a teenager but Sam has always been lanky and skinny. Dean has energy to burn that Sam simply doesn't and he can't take much more of this.
They tried to get help. They tried to tell someone, anyone who would listen and no one did. Hell, Sam even called the damn police station directly to tell them but they just warned him about "false reports equaling jail time," and "being more grateful for what he does have."
So. Here they are now, Sam trying to convince Dean to pretend to molest him in public because no one cares until there's sexual abuse involved.
"Dean. Please."
Sam knows he has to get through to Dean. He needs to impress how important it is that this happens. Sam needs to let Dean know that no, he isn't going to hate Dean for it, and no, he will not allow Dean to be unjustly punished for something Sam is pushing him into.
"I'm so hungry. I am literally starving. I trust you enough to know you'd never take advantage of me or hurt me, and if we do get separated we can always meet back up together again. You won't be put in jail because nothing. Will. Happen. There is no case if there is no crime. We enact the plan, we get put in a group home for a bit with all the food we could need, and we break out to reunite with Dad when he kills the coven and dismantles the cult."
Dean still has hand over his face and he's still breathing heavily but he's staring intently at Sam now, head bent and shoulders hunched over himself like he wants to fall forward but is caught in Sam's orbit. He's unbalanced and there's genuine anxiety in his eyes but Sam isn't backing down. He showing Dean that he's serious about this, that he isn't saying any of this lightly.
"Dee. I promise. It'll be okay."
Sam can see the moment Dean breaks.
There's thirty more full seconds of Dean looking away and taking a deep steadying breath, running his hands through his hair and scratching his head painfully before he finally relents.
"...Fucking- alright, fine! But we are doing it my way or it doesn't happen at all!"
And that's how Sam is currently in the back seat of the impala with the windows rolled down and a blanket over his lap, with his brother's hand fake jerking him off as he acts out moans and whines.
They parked in the middle of a busy strip mall close to the town's police station with the certainty that they'll be stumbled upon by a good Samaritan that'll call in the public indecency. Sam is making sure he's loud enough to be heard across the whole damn parking lot and gets louder when people walk close by, embarrassment be damned. This is his plan, he's committing to it.
Dean though is hunched over Sam, crowding them both into a corner near the car's rear door and open window, hiding his face away in the crook of Sam's neck while he's frantically whispering "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Sammy, sorry, sorry, sorry."
Sam's never heard Dean like this before. Ever. It makes his fake cries more real in a terrible way, and since he can't verbally reassure Dean that this is fine, it's okay, we can get through this, he threads his fingers through Dean's hand not pretending to molest him instead.
Every now and again Dean's hand will bump into Sam's crotch. As much as he feels horrible about it because this whole fucking situation is fucked oh my god, he still feels that familiar heat in his face and belly as he chubs up in his pants. It's completely involuntary, don't overthink it, seriously where the hell are the police!?
Sam is acutely aware of when Dean notices this too because he feels Dean's hand movement under the blanket momentarily falter and he makes an aborted twitch violently backward like he wants to throw himself off of Sam and into the road outside. And that more than anything makes Sam feel like an absolute monster.
Why isn't he just normal? Why doesn't he have enough willpower to not get disgustingly fucking hard when his brother is actively fighting through a panic attack while fake goddamn raping him? Sam is always dirty and evil but this is a new low even for him, Dean will hate him forever. He knows how gross and unclean Sam is now, he's going to be hated by his brother until the end of time and he has no one to blame but himself-
Dean suddenly takes their hands that are entwined together towards his chest and he squeezes tight. A wordless reassurance as he starts his arm movements back up. It's okay. I'm fine. You're fine. We're all fine.
Dean puts his forehead against Sam's sweaty head, the tears building up in Sam's eyes blurring his vision of his brother's face but the comforting weight of them leaning against each other is a balm to his soul. A cold glass of water in the middle of a desert oasis.
He doesn't hate me.
Sam is still hard. He's panting and groaning and whining at every light brush of Dean's fingers still intermittently hitting his crotch but Dean doesn't try to move away again. He's stays over Sam, eyes closed as they both just breathe together and share in the terrible experience together.
Sam almost sobs when there's a loud scandalized gasp next to them and Dean finally does jump away.
It started, like so depressingly many things in the Winchesters' lives, with a lie.
Sam was seven at the time, only an elementary schooler but old enough to feel himself not fitting in. Old enough to feel other, to feel in his constant switching between schools like someone walking on the sidewalk, peering through the glass of homes he'd never enter. Always on the outside.
Making friends was hard when he had so little time and so little in common with his peers. Eventually, the strange looks and uncomprehending pauses prefacing incredulous questions (you don't have a house? you've been to five other schools? you don't have a mom?) started to wear on him, and Sam learned a lesson his father had already been well on his way to teaching him: lying is easy and quick and it smooths over so many of life's little hitches.
So his standard replies shifted away from Yeah, no house, yeah, I keep moving around to different schools, yeah, my mom's dead to of course I have a house, this is my second school, of course i have a mom. At first, his lies hesitate and stutter, and elementary schoolers aren't really a suspicious bunch, but the gentle follow-up questions of teachers and other parents is enough incentive to propel Sam down the road to expertise. By his eight-and-half-th birthday, Sam can lie as fluidly as a conman, with a smile on his face and wide, innocent eyes.
Lying about having a house is easy: all Sam does is remember back to a house they stayed in once. It was long enough ago that the memory is fading, but his friends only really need the broad strokes. He describes his house the same way, over and over again: yellow sides, brown door, and a big window in the front with three panes that jut outward, meaning the sill inside is more like a bench, a perfect place to sit and watch the outside world.
As far as talking about previous schools, he only ever mentions the last one he went to, lets everyone around him assume that that's the only other place he's ever lived. Those lies become so familiar that Sam sometimes imagines the kid who lives them really exists, somewhere in his head.
But the third one, his mother, is harder to get right. Sam can't remember ever having a mother, and when he assumes that she'd act basically the same as his dad, those sideways glances start right back up again. Okay, so moms don't leave in the middle of the night sometimes and come back a strange kind of happy. Okay, so moms don't disappear for a few weeks to take care of work. Okay, those are dad things. So what are mom things?
Sam figures it out all at once one day, when an almost-friend of his is talking about how his mom took his to the new ice cream shop in town even though his dad didn't want her to. When it's his turn to share a story, he almost forgets all those lessons he's learned about lying, tongue tripping over itself the euphoria of understanding. Finally, finally he gets it: mom things aren't dad things, mom things are Dean things.
So Sam tells a story about how his mom once accidentally packed him a sandwich with moldy bread for lunch (Dean hadn't believed him at first, hadn't believed that Sam knew what mold looked like until he checked the rest of the loaf and found the bluish white fuzz growing underneath it. The look on his face when he realized he'd have to figure out something else for dinner isn't something Sam wants to think about, isn't the funny part of the story), and when everyone laughs at his exaggerated claims of how bad it smelled, Sam feels the comfort of belonging in a way he never has before.
And that's how it goes, in the following months, new school after new school but always the same lies, on and on until the lines in Sam's head start to get kind of blurry. After a certain point, "Mom" is just another name for Dean.
So things go more smoothly at school, and just the same amount of roughly at home, until Sam slips up, one night.
It's late. Not actually Sam's bed time, not yet, but he's on the tail-end of a nasty fever and his body's still a little worn out, so while Dean sits against the headboard, Sam dozes with the top of his head against his brother's hip and Dean's hand tangled in his hair.
He sinks into dreams for a minute, then drags right back out of them with an achy kind of feeling in his chest, limbs and heart heavy like he's been running away from something terrible. He squirms a little, waking up, and Dean pulls his hand away.
Sam makes a noise a of protest that goes entirely ignored, possibly because Dean, with his ears already strained toward the near-silent TV, didn't hear him. Sam sighs. Dean is too far away, sitting up like that. Sam knows it isn't really time yet, but his head kinda hurts and he doesn't wanna have any more of those barely-remembered dreams that were definitely closer to nightmares.
"Mom," Sam says, into the fabric of Dean's pant leg, "can you come lay down?"
Dean turns to stare at him, brow furrowed, and it takes Sam a second to realize what he said. "Sorry!" he squeaks, mortified. "Sorry, Dean, I didn't mean to--um--"
"...it's okay, Sam," Dean says after a minute. He turns off the TV, after a second's consideration, and then, to Sam's surprise, he lifts the covers and scoots down in the bed. His arms wrap around Sam, and Sam's body settles against his automatically, knowing exactly where they're meant to line up. Dean lets Sam pillow his head on his chest, like he's not even going to mention Sam's weird slip-up, like it really is okay.
But it's not okay, suddenly. Suddenly, Sam is swimming in guilt for all those lies he's been telling, and suddenly he needs Dean to tell him whether it's okay, whether it's forgivable, to lie so much for such a stupid reason. For a few minutes, Sam listens to his brother's heartbeat without slipping an inch closer to sleep. Then he takes a deep breath and suddenly the whole story pours out of him, everything, all laid out into his brother's soft sleep-shirt for judgment.
Dean is silent for a minute, after Sam finally gets it all out. Nervous, Sam lays completely still (he hates when Dean is mad at him, hates it even more than when Dad is mad at him, because Dad is angry all the time but when Dean's mad Sam know he's right to be) half on top of his brother and terrified that if he moves, Dean won't let him back this close ever again.
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean repeats after a minute. Sam blows out a breath, melting in relief. "It's okay. You, um--you can keep calling me that, if you want. I think it's not...it's not fair that you don't have a mom. You deserve one. And I guess I...I try. To be like her. To give you that. So...it's fine. Whenever you want to call me that, it's fine."
Oh. ThatâŚisnât exactly the kind of answer Sam is looking for. Itâs not really the question he meant to ask. But if Dean's offering...
He turns, hesitantly, pushing himself up on his elbows to look Dean in the face. "...Mom?"
Dean clears his throat. "Um, yeah? Yeah, Sammy?"
Sam blinks away unexpected wetness in his eyes. "Mom. Thanks."
Dean smiles at him, and it's all soft and happy. Sam lays his head back down as Dean whispers, "No problem, Sammy," and cards a gentle hand through his hair.
âMom,â Sam breathes again. As Sam sinks into a deep, safe kind of sleep, it settles between them, a new, private kind of truth.
âWere you going to have sex with him, Dean? The siren?â Sam asks, calm, straight-faced and unreadable, blocking the doorway. His exit.
Deanâs silence speaks volumes. âSam,â he eventually sighs, âwe donât have time for this, Bobby, he-â
âAll the other vics- they fucked their siren. It makes sense, right? That youâd fit the pattern?â Sam interrupts, stepping forward to crowd Deanâs space. âWhat was it, huh? Were you going to kill me, then fuck him on the bed as I go cold? As he calls you big brother?â He hisses, teeth bared.
Dean wonât look him in the eyes, staring forward into his throat, unblinking.
âTell me, Dean.â Sam snarls, âbe honest for once in your life and admit that you want me.â
âBecause of course you do- in our fucked-up life, how could you not?â He drawls, sarcastic and goading. âYou canât just brush this off, Dean- Iâm not going to ignore the fact that a monster, who turns into its victimâs deepest sexual desire, turned into a bargain version of me the second it set its sights on you- because I saw it with my own eyes- hell, Bobby did too- and I doubt heâll look you straight for the next week!â He scoffs, pointing a finger into Deanâs chest.
âIâm not asking you to change, Dean, Iâm asking you to grow up and admit it, because, maybe, just maybe, you might get what you want, and we wonât be put in a position like that again.â
âWere you going to have sex with him, Dean? The siren?â Sam asks, calm, straight-faced and unreadable, blocking the doorway. His exit.
Deanâs silence speaks volumes. âSam,â he eventually sighs, âwe donât have time for this, Bobby, he-â
âAll the other vics- they fucked their siren. It makes sense, right? That youâd fit the pattern?â Sam interrupts, stepping forward to crowd Deanâs space. âWhat was it, huh? Were you going to kill me, then fuck him on the bed as I go cold? As he calls you big brother?â He hisses, teeth bared.
Dean wonât look him in the eyes, staring forward into his throat, unblinking.
âTell me, Dean.â Sam snarls, âbe honest for once in your life and admit that you want me.â
âBecause of course you do- in our fucked-up life, how could you not?â He drawls, sarcastic and goading. âYou canât just brush this off, Dean- Iâm not going to ignore the fact that a monster, who turns into its victimâs deepest sexual desire, turned into a bargain version of me the second it set its sights on you- because I saw it with my own eyes- hell, Bobby did too- and I doubt heâll look you straight for the next week!â He scoffs, pointing a finger into Deanâs chest.
âIâm not asking you to change, Dean, Iâm asking you to grow up and admit it, because, maybe, just maybe, you might get what you want, and we wonât be put in a position like that again.â
i love middle-age wincest & people assuming they're a couple. sam, who's about to be 40 and has heard it for nearly two decades, has long stopped caring about the 'being in a relationship with his brother' part and now only blushes and is flustered when he gets hit on by other gay people.
dean still doesn't understand why these people keep assuming they're in a relationship, even though he's worse about sam's love life than he was before.
someone calls dean a bear and sam has to hide a laugh behind his hand because dean looks bewildered, and he's going to have to explain it when they're no longer in public, because dean will get pouty and homophobic even though he won't be able to get it up later because sam already gave him head that morning.
the idea of someone at least a decade younger than sam flirting with him, and dean sliding up to him and slinging an arm around his waist and saying some cliche bullshit like 'this guy bothering you?' like sam is his wife.
the guy looks him up and down and is like 'you can come too,' and dean says that sam isn't interested and pulls him away, grumbling the whole time.
john winchester: yes my sons are close, no they're not 'too close'. you don't understand, dean would die for that kid and im so proud of him for that. they truly understand the value of family and protecting one another. at least when I hunt I have full trust that dean will always put sams safety first. always. yes they may not have any other friends, but they have each other and that's what's most import-
hunter who will never willingly be in contact with john again: yeah uh, I think dean is molesting sam.
Fic idea: Weechesters canon-adjacent AU where everything's the same except the general public see brothers Sam and Dean be Weird⢠about each other and they all think the Winchesters are playing the world's worst game of "Hide The Incest". In reality, they aren't together and are trying desperately to prove otherwise, yet no one believes it because they're just too goddamn codependent and odd...
So basically canon but cranked up to 11.
It starts at a house party hosted by some rando kid from High School Of The Week.
Cool, mysterious senior Dean was sauntering up the driveway with geeky, freshman baby brother Sam in tow. They were spotted in the middle of a hushed, yet seemingly tense conversation. As they got closer to the door, it looked like Sam had tried to storm off. His brother was quicker though.
When Sam got in front of him while stomping off, Dean tackled his brother from behind and pulled him back-to-chest: Sam's back against Dean's front. He locked both arms securely around Sam's midsection as the younger brother put up a cursory struggle, keeping the smaller boy tucked against his chest by lifting him slightly from the ground and placing Sam's feet on top of his.
It was then that Dean used his height to curl over Sam protectively while he lowered his lips next to Sam's ear, all low tones, hot breath, and for each other to hear only. Sam's chest was visibly stuttering as his breathing picked up and his face grew red hot, by which point he let out a sharp retort to whatever his brother had said and Dean just chuckled... before he was biting Sam's ear.
("Seriously Sammy, I'm telling you. Keep an eye out. Those deer had their throats ripped out less than a mile from here, you gotta be careful."
"I know! Yeah, fine, whatever Dee, I get it! Now ease up, you're clingier than the vamp!"
"Oh, you think I'm a vampire now? I'll show you a vampire.")
The side eyes they were getting before had now morphed into full gawking stares. Their actions and positioning were way too intimate to be seen from brothers, right? Like that was not normal, right? Even though Sam was now fighting against Dean's hold in earnest, that was still wrong right?
The stares just followed them into the house as Dean held tight to Sam and shuffled them along the entrance pathway inside, Dean still balancing Sam's feet on top of his as they walked together.
("Hey, it's like when you were little! I mean, you're still little, so nothing's changed really."
"Ha-ha. Real funny Dean."
"Never forget who taught you to walk buddy. I brought you into this world, I can take you out."
"That doesn't even make any sense!")
It's rumored in the school hallways that when Sam finally spotted the outside onlookers he went slightly pale, headbutted Dean in the solar plexus, and ran like a bat outta hell. Depending on who you asked, some even say he left a puff of smoke on his trail Looney Toons-style. Dean recovered quick and gave a cheeky wave and shout of, "Nothing to see here!" to the prying eyes.
The scene never left any of their minds though.
Especially not after later in the night when both of them emerged from a side bedroom partially clothed, red-faced, sweaty and panting. Some even say Sam had suspiciously hickey-shaped bruises on his neck too.
("That fucking vampire! I told you to be careful but noooo, you just had to follow the vampire girl into the room didn't you?"
"Well obviously I didn't know she was the vampire Dean! Please just help put pressure on the wound, we can't leave blood trails out the door."
"I'm putting pressure on it. Did you at least get to second base before-"
"Shut up!")
At school the next Monday, the Winchesters vehemently denied any accusations of taboo activity with seemingly the right amount of disgust. Lots of, "He's my brother!"s and "Literally how could you think that!?"s flying through the locker rooms, but too many students were at the party with firsthand accounts to think otherwise.
Fortunately for the brothers though, news of a beloved student being found headless in the woods nearby the party house quickly overshadowed their alleged illicit activities, and they skipped town soon after. It left more questions than answers.
Wincestiel/deans inability to seperate romantic and brotherly love
Thinking about Dean constantly referring to Castiel as his second brother, as family. It's not an unintentional rejection, it's practically a love confession.
All his life, the only love he has truly always had, was from and towards his brother. Family is EVERYTHING, to this man. It's all he's ever known. And he is so in love with his brother, he may not know it, but it's there and its true.
His brother is everything, all he's ever truly loved and cared for. He would kill for his Sammy, die for him. And it's not that he doesn't know that his relationship with Sam is different to normal brothers, they have never been normal. But he doesn't know what that means, it doesn't matter what that means, just that its him and Sam against the world, and that's a feeling he has never felt for anyone else before.
Not until Cas. It's not that he's never loved, Lisa was love. Loving her was real, but it wasn't everything. It wasn't all consuming, it wasn't selfish. Not like how he loves Sam, so when the choice came, it was always going to be him.
Others? Lust, fleeting love maybe, but nothing that made him feel so intense. And if he's never felt like that for anyone but Sam, then surely its brotherly. The way he longs to stay by his side, till they get as old as hunters like them can. The way he will always fight for them, the way he will always want him by his side and be so damn protective (jealous) whenever Sam gets a partner.
Of course, he finds his brother beautiful, and puts him above everyone, its what brothers do. So when he meets Castiel, and he is handsome, beautiful even, and he is someone he is willing to fight for, die for... then that must be brotherly too. Wanting to reach out and touch has always been brotherly...
The fact Cas and Sam work so well together, learn to care for each other too? It just makes it perfect. So Dean lets Cas know that he is one of them. A Winchester brother. Cause the three of them fit so well together. And that longing, aching feeling like he wants something more that he just can't place? That's exactly what he's felt his whole life.
I get not being on board with one of the ships in Wincestiel because not everything makes a personâs brain go brrrr. And we canât choose what grabs us. But I donât understand not understanding where the ships come from. Because theyâre all fucking weird about each other. Nothing normal is going on between any of them.
Youâve got Dean ânot for nothing Cas, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laidâ Winchester kneeling in front of Cas and letting him beat him almost to death because heâs so sure the power of their connection will snap Cas out of it. Youâve got Sam and Cas doing their whole âthe second weâre alone together, I put a needle in his neck while he pants and grabs my arm and tells me to go deeper insideâ shit. And then youâve got Dean and Sam doing so many âgood god are they getting even WORSE about each other??â things, itâs hard to know which to pick as an example (Dean committing suicide over merely suspecting Samâs dead? All the face holding and staring into each otherâs eyes? The siren episode? Watching each other have sex with women?)
Like, how can you not want to see what happens when you spin all three flavors of fucked up into a polyamorous blender?
i heard all about 'castiel who doesn't know what incest is and thinks nothing is wrong with samdean' and i raise you:
castiel who's been around long enough that 'incest is wrong' sentiment started happening like maybe a week ago on his timeline. sam and dean have to tell him to tone it down with outing them by blurting out the most scandalous shit, and cas looks at them blankly and says, for most of human history relatives have been marrying and making children. is the issue that neither one of you can carry offspring? there's the angel spell--
dean has to leave immediately. just knowing it's a possibility gives him whiplash. no he doesn't want to get knocked up, he's just freaked out it's possible. wonder how long it'll take for him to circle around and start actually entertaining the idea.
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