#dean winchseter

[floral-cas]

Cas and Michael!Dean + white mums by request

[cherryblossomflowers]

DDD #15

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and YN find a dog roaming the streets, take it home, and are trying to figure out what's wrong with it.

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Cursing, Slight Depression

A/N: Week 15 is here! Who remembers Dog Dean Afternoon? Hint, hint! Make sure to check out @mlovesstories​ drabble and her masterlist. Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

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Dynamic Duo Drabbles Masterlist

“The dog sniffed his owner's hand and then said to him, 'Hello, my name is actually Rufus, not Buddy...'"

While taking a nice Sunday drive in the Impala, Dean and YN see a dog walking down the side of the road. Dean pulls the car over to the shoulder and puts it in park.

"What are you doing?" YN asks.

"I just want to make sure it's okay," Dean says as he opens the car door.

YN watches him cross the street and calling the dog to him. She steps out and watches Dean whistle at the dog to get it to come to him.

Eventually the dog walks over and sniffs Dean's hand. Dean pets it a few times and looks for a collar. When he doesn't see one, he picks up the dog and walks back to the Impala.

YN chuckled, "Let me guess. We're taking the dog with us?"

Dean nodded, "You said you've always wanted a dog, YN."

"I'm pretty sure I said puppy dog. Not a full grown dog."

"But look at him. He's still pretty small for his size."

"So it's a boy?" YN smirked, "Congrats, Dean."

He rolled his eyes, "Hardy har har."

Dean opened the backseat and helped the dog inside. He and YN climbed back into the Impala and continued down the road.

Every once in a while, Dean would look in the rearview mirror at the dog. The dog laid perfectly still in the backseat. He seemed to be sleeping and would take long, deep breaths.

"You think he's okay?" Dean asked.

YN looked in the backseat, "I don't know. I've never seen a dog sit that still before," she turned back to Dean, "Too bad we can't just communicate with him."

Dean smirked, "That's what you think." -------------------- Once Dean and YN were back at the bunker, Dean carried the dog inside while YN looked for something they could use for a bed and a collar.

Dean laid the dog down on an old pillow and YN tied a piece of rope around it's neck. YN went into the kitchen and got him a bowl of water, hoping he'd drink something and feel a bit better.

Unfortunetly, the dog just laid still once more.

"If you can trust me, I have an idea," Dean suggested.

YN gave him a nervous look, "Okay?"

Dean ran off to the hallway while YN stayed with the dog. She sat down next to him and started petting him lightly.

She smiled, "You're a good boy, aren't you? We're going to have to think of a name for you."

"How about Buddy?" Dean said as he ran back into the library with a book and small box in hand.

"That's very ordinary, don't you think?" YN made a face at him.

Dean shrugged, "Well, it's better than nothing. We can't just call him dog forever."

He sat a rather large book on the table and sat down in the chair. When he opened the book, he scanned page after page, looking for a specific spell.

After a moment, he pointed at a page, "Here. An Inuit spell."

"A what?" YN asked as she walked over to him.

"It's a spell to be able to communicate with animals," Dean replied as he walked into the kitchen, "Like a human/animal mind meld. Or reading thoughts."

YN looked at the dog, "It won't hurt Buddy, right?"

Dean walked back into the library, "No, it won't hurt Buddy," he bent down and plucked a hair from the dog's fur, "Okay, that might've hurt a little. But the spell won't."

YN watched as Dean mixed together ingredients he grabbed from his room and the kitchen. Whatever concoction he was creating looked disgusting. She just hoped she didn't have to drink it.

Dean held up the glass, "Gross, right?"

YN nodded, "Nasty."

In one large gulp, Dean downed the disgusting liquid and groaned, "It definitely tastes as bad as it looks," he looked down at the book and read from the page, "Deila hér me. Dag eru nou rar vitur orum."

The two sat in silence for a moment, looking between each other and the dog. YN was starting to think the spell wasn't going to work.

"Give it time," Dean said as if he was reading her mind, "It takes a minute to kick in."

YN walked over to the dog and sat next to him, "I just hope he's okay."

Dean stood from his seat and sat next  to the dog as well, "We'll be able to figure out what's wrong with Buddy soon. I promise."

The dog sniffed his owner's hand and then said to him, "Hello, my name is actually Rufus, not Buddy..."

Dean stared at the dog wide eyed, "Whoa, that was quick."

YN grabbed Dean's hand, "What? It worked? What's he saying?"

"He said his name is Rufus," he answered.

"Rufus? Damn, Buddy was growing on me," YN crossed her arms.

"Really? You think Buddy is better than Rufus? I pity what you end up naming your children," Rufus said.

Dean chuckled, "Ouch."

"What? What's he saying?" YN asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Dean smirked.

YN grabbed the water bowl and moved it to Rufus, "Can you ask him to drink something?"

Dean turned to Rufus, "How about it, Rufus? You thirsty?"

Rufus shook his body, "Nah, not in the mood for it."

"He said he didn't want it," Dean told YN.

"See if you can figure out what's wrong with him," YN suggested.

Dean turned to the dog, "Rufus, you've been acting weird since we picked you up from the street. What's up?"

Rufus whimpered as he laid back down, "My best friend. He went off somewhere a while back and hasn't returned. I left my home to search for him, but I don't know where he is."

"He said his previous owner is gone. He's been looking for him," Dean explained to YN.

YN sighed and pet Rufus, "Poor thing. He must be so sad."

Dean scratched Rufus' head, "Judging by how skinny he is, I bet he's been searching for a long time. Who knows what happened to his previous owner."

YN thought for a moment, "Did you have a collar, Rufus?"

"No," Rufus answered, "My best friend couldn't afford one."

Dean shook his head at YN, "I'm starting to think maybe his previous owner was homeless."

That statement pulled at YN's heartstrings, "Rufus, you can stay with us if you want. If not, we completely understand. But we'll feed you and take you for walks and play fetch."

Rufus wagged his tail in response, "I do like walks."

Dean smiled, "I think you hit the nail on the head there, YN."

Rufus jumped up on YN and licked her face, causing her to fall backwards in a fit of laughter. Dean started laughing as well as he watched YN and Rufus bond.

"Who's a good boy, Rufus? Huh? Who's my good boy," YN said while scratching Rufus's stomach.

Rufus barked at her, "Me! Me! I'm the good boy!"

Dean smiled at the two, "Welcome to the family, Rufus."

--------------------

Masterlist

My Cherry Blossoms

@mlovesstories​​​ @smollestbean-2​​​ @kitwithnokat​​​

@idksupernatural​​​ @desiredposion​​​ @thevelvetseries​​​ @let-me-luve-you​​​

@obsessedwithfandomsx​​​ @mangueweaschester​​​ @starchildwild​​​ @deans-baby-momma​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​ @unicornmadness2444​​​

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@imthedoctorlove​​​ @wecantgiggleitsafandom

[lettersofwrittencollective]

Where

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective​

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 841

Prompt/ kink: Phone Sex 

Summary: Frustrated, you make a call to a certain hunter, hoping he can help you out and as he does, you learn where he is. 

Warnings: masturbation

Masterlist || Supernatural Masterlist

You’d struck out at the bar tonight. 

It wasn’t so much that there wasn’t anyone who was interested, there were plenty of those, but it was that none of them turned you on. More than anything, they revolted you. Most of them stunk to high heaven and were drowning in more than just alcohol but it wasn’t a stench you were willing to figure out. 

Getting back to the hotel room, you take a quick shower when a thought occurred to you and pulled out your phone before calling Green Eyes before changing. 

You’d gotten Dean Winchester's number after the two of you had worked together on a hunt. It had turned out that you’d over-complicated the hunt when it had just been a simple salt and burn- a thing that Dean made fun of you for. 

Thankfully, you were able to laugh at yourself and the two of you had managed to have a good chuckle over a couple of beers. You’re not sure if it was the beers that fueled him or if he was actually as into you as you were into him but they’d led the two of you to a vastly passionate night that to this day still made you wet. 

“Hey Sweetheart,” came the flirtatious answer on the other line. 

Chuckling to yourself, you tried not to roll your eyes when you asked him, “You busy?”

You can hear the tell tale sign of a beer bottle being opened before he answers, “Not particularly, why?”  

Figuring it was best to just be honest about what you wanted instead of beating around the bush so you tell him, “I need you to help me get off,” 

He must have started drinking the beer because you can hear him spitting out the drink he’s spluttering on the other end  “What- what are you…” 

 You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, “Oh come on Dean… I’m horny - if you’re not interested that’s fine. I’ll just take care of myself.” 

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

“Well my fingers of course,” you tell him with a smirk your sure he can hear. 

“Alright Sweetheart, how about you lay down and let me walk you through it,” he tells you and you can’t help but to moan at the idea of what he has in store for you. 

“Okay,” you tell him as you do as he asks, laying back on the bed. 

“First tell me what you’re wearing,” he asks and you can hear the way his voice has dropped down, how it’s huskier now.

“Nothing,” you tell him honestly and you can hear him groan almost instantly. 

“Fuck woman,” he tells you, “Alright, I want you to place your feet on the mattress, knees bent and spread your legs nice and wide.”

You do as he asks and can’t help but to begin to circle a finger around one of your nipples. The pressure on the sensitive peak made you whimper and you could hear him chuckle before he asked, “Already touching yourself Sweetheart?”

You made some affirmative noise that you’re sure sounded like a whore moaning but Dean didn’t care, he merely gave you further instructions, “Alrighty baby doll, I want you to take one hand and move it down to that beautiful pussy of yours.”

You did as he instructed, your fingers finding yourself soaked. Dean asked you if you were wet and you told him you were. 

“And what’s got you so wet?” he asks you and the words travel across your skin, dancing on the goosebumps they create. 

“You…” you whisper.

“What about me?” he asks and you whine, 

“Dean please…” you beg him. 

“Please what Sweetheart?” he asks and you can hear the smirk in his voice from here.

“I need you,” you tell him as you begin to play with your clit. 

“But sweetheart I’m not actually there- you’re going to have to use your fingers,” he’s telling you and you slip a finger into your slick channel, a whimper being torn from you.  You can hear Dean groan.

The sound goes straight to your core and you can’t help but whimper. 

“I promise next time you’re in Lebanon I’ll give you a really good fucking to make up for it,” Deans saying and you suddenly stop. 

“Wait, where are you?” you ask him. 

“What?” he repeats and you can hear the confusion in his voice. 

“Right now, where are you right now?” you ask him. 

“The bunker,” he tells you. 

You have no idea what that is, having not seen either Winchester in about a year. When you did talk- it wasn’t very often that you asked about housing. After all, it wasn’t like the hunting lifestyle afforded one much in the way of housing. 

“Where is it?”

“Why is that…” Dean’s asking you and you cut him off. 

“Dean I’m currently at the Roadway Inn in Esbon,” you tell him quickly. 

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” he tells you before you can hear the phone disconnect.

-

Masterlist || Supernatural Masterlist

-

A/N: I am not usually a fan of drabbles- I always feel they are rushed. I tried to make this something enjoyable however so I’m hoping you’ll like this! Thanks so much for reading! As always let me know what you thought– comments & reblogs give me life!

tagist: @stiles-o-dylan24​ @nicole-lynne​ @mummybear​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to Warner Bros. Television and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 21 October 2019

[crossroadsimagine]

Could you do spn hcs of Dean with a shy, introverted S/O who doesn’t like arguments or conflict? Thank u so much!

■ Really doesn’t seem to mind that you are shy and introverted because to some extent he feels like this will help keep you safe especially if you do help with hunting and things going on. He will like for you to hang back and stay safe and being more of a source of information. Though that doesn’t mean he’ll really feel all that comfortable leaving you anywhere and can even seem hesitant to leave you at times.

■ Doesn’t really complain that you are introverted because he can be content staying in, but at the same time he can get a little stir crazy now and then and will want to go out with you. He can push or nudge you out of your comfort zone once in a while but knows when to stop or not to push you further.

■ He does have a tendency to argue and raise his voice though not really with you since you don’t like to argue, but that’s not going to stop him from arguing with others (Sam most frequently). However, you can help to bring an argument to a stop simply by walking into the room or making your presence known (a fake cough or so.) This is usually enough to trip them both up and halt the argument.

■ Dean does try his best to avoid arguing with anyone around you but that doesn’t always happen especially if he’s really mad. Though Sam will be very kind and respectful towards you and can stop arguing for your sake and even try to stop or calm a situation down for your sake, especially if he’s not the one Dean’s arguing with.

■ If you are really shy to the point of not talking to new people or people, you’re not comfortable with. Dean can develop a habit of talking for you especially if you’re quiet and someone makes a comment like "What’s wrong with her?" he can say something like "She doesn’t like you.” though in most cases he tends to be pretty sarcastic about it rather than really meaning it.

■ He can be extra protective over you since you are more sensitive to arguments and conflict, and even more so if you have a hard time voicing your opinions or standing up for yourself. Though there are times where he simply can’t avoid an argument and/or conflict but he usually will try to apologize or comfort you after the incident.

[wigglebox]

trisscar368 replied to your post: hey gang i need to excersize those writing muscles...

Cas takes up woodcarving as a hobby but is terrible at cleaning up after himself?

AH I love this. I always wanted to do wood carving:

-----

When all was said and done, and they found their farmhouse out on 281, Cas took up a hobby.

They all needed something to do. They still went on hunts every now and then, but not with the speed of before, mostly just to help Bobby and Mary out. Sam worked mostly out of the bunker, networking with the more sane members of any Men of Letters outcroppings still out there. Dean took to rebuilding the barn on the back of the property. Cas didn’t want any of that, but did want to work with his hands.

The human switchover provided a whole new category of sensations for him, and he found himself drawn to more tactile things. But he found, as hobbies came and went, that the one he liked the most was anything having to do with wood.

It started when he helped Dean out one day over at the barn, slicing the planks down to a proper size so they could fit up in the hay loft. The hum and vibrations under his hands as the saw cut through the wood like butter made him smile. He felt that vibration all the way up his arm, and the ghost of the sensation followed him throughout the day.

With good reason, Dean wouldn’t let Cas buy a chainsaw outright, but instead bought him a wood carving kit at the local craft store. It wasn’t the exact same, but Cas found his restlessness that ballooned in the post-hunter life diminished as he plucked away at the small blocks of wood that came with the kit.

He started first with circles and other shapes, working in the living room of the farmhouse to beat the heat of the Kansas summer.

The shapes lined the window sill throughout the house, spurring further motivation to Cas.

He soon graduated to making crude silhouettes of animals: bears, ducks, and rabbits. The rabbits he was particularly proud of, since the ears were difficult and took him the whole day to get right. Dean put that one in the bedroom.

Weeks went by and the wood blocks grew in size, but Cas still stayed away from the chainsaw. He liked holding the wood in his hands, feeling the grain and smelling the wood shavings coming off the block. As the weather grew cooler for a couple weeks, he sat outside the barn and worked. On the hot days, he worked inside.

An issue that eventually arose, and Cas promptly ignored, was the larger his pieces became, the worse the mess as well. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. By the time he would emerge from the carving, it would be meal time, then he and Dean would relax for the rest of the night and bedtime. The guilt would grow in the back of Cas’s head but he managed to compress it, saying he’d clean it the next day, and the day after that.

One particularly hot day, while Dean worked across the yard (his tan was coming in, and boy was it amazing), Cas heard rustling in the wood shavings near him. The pile extended into the shade of the corner in front of him, and over there is where he saw the pile moving.

“What the f--,” Cas set his tools on the desk, and stood up.

That’s when a small head poked out of the pile, staring at him with beady eyes.

Yelling, Cas took the closest thing to him, in this case a desk lamp, and threw it at the mouse, the bulb shattering.

The mouse ran off into another part of the house, but the rustling didn’t stop. A few more heads and moving bodies were seen scurrying around and across the wood shavings. Mice. A lot of them.

Cas ran out of the house, over to the barn. One mouse was okay, but he counted at least twelve. They were small but Cas didn’t like them, the way their black, soulless eyes stared at him, expecting something.

Dean had moved on from the flooring to painting the outside of the barn. The farmers tan on full display after the heat and humidity of the morning forced him into a tank top. But Cas didn’t have time to revel in that image.

“We have mice.” He called up to Dean who stood stretching on a ladder to paint the walls under the roof.

“We shouldn’t. The kitchen’s cleaned every night.”

The tone was light, but Cas knew what Dean was alluding to. He got the “clean up your mess” lecture a few times, dismissing them with a half-hearted “I will”.

“You know why we have mice. And yes I understand the importance of cleaning up. Can you help me?”

Dean shook his head.

“You’re a big boy, you take care of it. If any of them scurry up your left, just give a good shake.” Dean laughed and went back to painting. Cas shivered. Painters tape rested in the shade under the ladder. Cas grabbed it, and taped up the bottom of his pants, before stomping back to the house.

[saventhhaven]

The majority of my tumblr dashboard is Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles and it’s literally the best thing in my life right now.

[sammyzwifi-blog]

Misha: [regarding Dean and Cas] They love each other. But it’s purely sexual. 

LOL I LOVE THIS MAN

[wigglebox]

Country Road

Had this song playing in my head (even tho this isn’t set in West Virginia)

Beta’d by the lovely @flameskywolf

Eventually, they lucked into getting a farm not far from the bunker.

All three of them worked a case of an old man, Dean wagered he was at least 115 years old, whose farm was infested with Ghouls. Turned out the far corner of his farm had been built on top of a small, and unmarked, cemetery. Dean didn’t want to know where the bodies came from. He burned them all and then they killed the Ghouls.  

“I always figured I’d die on this farm, but not like that,” The farmer muttered in his whisper of a voice, “Thank you boys for all your help.”

Cas smiled and shook the man’s hand. He found it funny that he referred to them as boys, when their ages were mid 40’s with the exception of Sam. He figured this man, everyone was a child to him.

Sam leaned forward and shook the man’s hand, looping him into a conversation that Cas tuned out of. Turning, he found Dean standing at the far end of the wrap around porch, looking over the bleak, flat farmland with storm clouds threatening overhead. A barn looked like it’d fall over with a sneeze with the paint almost non-existent. Cas saw broken fences that were meant to keep in some sort of lifestock and abandoned tractors.

He watched Dean as long as Dean watched the land. Dean staring out with his thoughts wasn’t new behavior, but with the wind blowing in his hair and ruffling his jacket, Dean looked different -- almost more alive.

It’s not like their lives were stressful at the moment. A few cases here and there, inviting some hunters they knew and trust into the Men of Letters as a hybrid. That was more Sam’s project with Cas and Dean helping along.

Cas had his own challenges, adjusting once again to humanity but permanently this time. Often during the days he had to calm himself down when the panic of permanence flooded his mind. His emotions were still raw and new, feeling everything too much. It was final, there was no going back. The guilt was tenfold in feeling now than when he was an angel, and he felt it particularly when he left Dean in a room alone to go and calm himself. Dean had no distractions and nothing to do.

But now, as Cas watched Dean take in the landscape before him, he realized what could and should happen.

All three of them left, the old man grateful for their help, telling them to stop by anytime they wanted. So Cas took him up on that offer.

Three days later, he went back to the farm.

The man greeted him with joy, so much joy to the point Cas wanted to cry thinking the man got no visitors in his life here and in his old age.

The man, known as Ed Gulch, gave him a mug of strong coffee with some whiskey in it and they both sat at the chipped linoleum kitchen table. The window there gave Cas a clear view of the remains of the barn and on the dusty, brittle farmland. He sipped his coffee slowly. Alcohol worked on him far easier than on Dean or Sam or basically anyone else. He didn’t want to get drunk in front of the man.

So they talked. The man, despite being unable to talk above a whisper, could talk for a while. And Cas happily listened.

First, Ed wasn’t 150 but more like 80. But the hard life he had in the Kansas corn fields didn’t do him any good. Neither did the drinking or the smoking.

The man actually had two children but they were so successful in life with their own grandkids, that they only ever had time to talk to Ed on the phone. Sometimes they came for the holidays, but since they were always working it was hard. His daughter, Marilyn, married rich, got herself a job as head nurse at a New York City hospital, and is currently working on a doctorate. She had three children and a big house on Long Island. The other kid, Conner, wound up working on, in Ed’s words, Big ‘ol space ships that fly to space or sum’it out in California. He too had a large family of five and a large house. Cas heart broke, hearing Ed talk about his children. He doubted they talked about him with as much love and respect.

Cas looked around and saw dirty dishes, grime on the floor, and some packed up boxes. Ed had a nasty cough that they didn’t hear a couple days ago. The heat of the moment must have given him no time to do anything but run and hide.

“Well if you ever need help around here Ed, we’ll be more than happy to assist.”

Ed looked at Cas thoughtful and quiet. Cas took a sip of his now cold coffee and resisted spitting it back out. He felt a little bad, trying to rope this fragile man into giving him what he wants but it also made his heart hurt seeing Dean staring out from the porch on unused land and skeletal remains of buildings that could hopefully be his kingdom.

“Hon’stly, if yuhs wanna help me pack up m’things that’d be swell son,” Ed muttered, setting his mug down. He poured more whiskey in it, “Connor got a guest house he offered up. I need warmth ‘n sun, and to see m’grandkids. His eldest, Ann, is due July,” Another sip, another long drawn out pause. Ed looked out the same window Cas took to looking out of at the barn. On the other side of it, down several feet, was where the mass grave was. Sam had told them later that he wondered if it had anything to do with the Men of Letters’ more unsavory members. Cas didn’t really care.

“After the other night, I don’t wanna stay here ennymore.” Ed coughed,“If I can get outta here on time, maybe I’ll be there for Christmas.”

Cas nodded along, in deep thought. He even drank the  disgustingly cold coffee thinking about his next words. The filter had begun its construction in his head since becoming human but he still had to watch what he said and more importantly how he said it. A second language was hard when it was the only one you were allowed to speak.

“We can help you. Do you have a ride out there?”

“Connie’s commin’ out in a few days. Would be a good surprise for him to see I’m all ready set t’go.”

Cas didn’t bring up the question. Not yet. The little voice that was growing day by day in his head told him to hold off until the man said his goodbyes to the place and was ready to truly move on.

Cas enlisted the help of Dean since he was the only one without a project in the bunker. Sam had a small group of hunters in as a sort of class or something. Dean didn’t seem particularly excited about helping Ed, but Cas pulled him along with the promise that the fresh air would be good for him.

Dean met Ed properly, and not in the heat of supernatural battle and instantly took to him, making Cas smile, easing his mind.

Almost immediately, Ed got them to work. They tore down the ratty, thin curtains that made Cas wonder how Ed got through winters with almost nothing blocking a draft. They scrubbed the windows, tossed out broken furniture, rolled up carpets, and packed his boxes.

All in all, it took them three days to get the place in pecking order for Ed to say goodbye. But as Cas and Dean packed up the rest of Ed’s clothes from his mothball ridden chest, Cas realized Ed seemed to be well on his way out already. The man sat on the bare bed, gazing out the back window into the yard where some crows pecked at a bird feeder. A serene smile graced the old man’s face, making him look 20 years younger.

As Dean finished packing up the man’s pants, Cas went over and sat on the bed with Ed. The bed bounced slightly, the coils groaning over the additional weight compared to the thin man. Without a word, Ed took Cas’s hands and enclosed it in his own. Cas expected to look up and see tears streaming through the lines on Ed’s face but it was as dry and arid as the land around them.

“I want you boys to have this place.” Ed mumbled in his whisper voice.

Cas’s eyes widened, wondering momentarily if the old man could read minds. Ed continued to look out the window, so Cas turned his gaze to Dean, who stood staring out the same window.

Dean’s look was of love, Ed’s was of nostalgia. In a blink, Cas could see Dean sitting in the same spot as Ed in 30 years, staring out the same window but to a field of some kind of crop, or of a plethora of animals grazing on the grass below. Maybe a few pigs, horses, and cows. But the look on his face wouldn’t be like Ed’s now. It wouldn’t be of longing for something in the past. The past was something Dean didn’t really remember fondly as it was. His look would be one of accomplishment, and content that his life had lead him to this farm house with the barn and the broken fences.

“Are you sure?” Cas managed to ask, knowing full well the answer. Ed had lost his wife 20 years ago, his children moved on, the farm was dried up and nothing but a big yard for his run down house. He tapped all the life he could out of the house, but the house had more to give. Cas needed Dean to hear that.

“Yeah sonny, I’m sure,” Ed pat Cas’s hands and looked up at Dean who met his gaze, “You saved me, you saved this place… now I get to go see my family. Yuh’put things in perspective for me. I’m at the end of my life, I got all I could out of this. I’m sick of the cold, I want some sunshine and my grandchildren.”

Ed sniffed then, and now Cas did see a tear, “My kids are well off, they don’t want this place. But there’s still a part of me that can’t just let it go to waste,” Ed nodded to Dean, “I saw the way you looked at this house, I saw you staring at the barn. I know you’d do something great here, kiddo.”

Dean didn’t say anything, instead walking over to Ed, kneeling in front of him and pulled him into a hug.

Ed make a small sound of surprise, not used to being touched in a way. Cas watched unmoving.  It was rare that Dean showed this level of emotion with a complete stranger to the point where he initiated contact like that.

The two stood together for a moment before pulling away. Dean placed both hands on Ed’s bony shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.

“We’ll make this place how you remember it. So you come back and visit us okay?”

“Sounds like a plan, man,” Ed grinned before patting Dean on the cheek.

They all stood back up, Ed wiping some tears from his eyes. The house moaned and groaned as they walked across the ancient floorboards. The house was truly bare now, down to the bones. As Cas walked through the corridor upstairs, he thought about the extra rooms for Jack and Sam and Mary and whoever else wanted to stay for however long they wanted. He thought about what color he and Dean would settle on for the exterior paint job and if they should keep the floors bare with minimal carpets or not.

Cas was forced out of his thoughts as Dean held him back while Ed walked down stairs first. Without question, Cas let Dean hold him back and draw him close. Dean didn’t like overt displays of affection and even though they were in private, they were still in someone else’s home. So Cas took this moment and reveled in it as Dean breathed slowly, the calmest Cas has felt in a while. Ed would be wondering where they went off to and a moment of panic flared in Cas but if Dean wasn’t concerned about it, neither was he.

They stood there, still and quiet in the house that was now prepared for a revival.

Ed never wound up visiting. Shortly after Christmas, he passed away from undiagnosed lung cancer.

By the start of Summer, the barn was structurally sound again, and they had rescued three horses, two pigs, and a shit load of chickens. Sam visited a few times a week, grateful for a room where he could wake up to a sunrise instead of artificial light. Mary visited every few weekends along with Jack.

They still had more work to do with painting, more building, and wanting to grow some things, but it was okay not to rush. They had time. This was their journey now.