Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 1784
Summary: While staying in a cozy inn during a case, Sam surprises you with a gingerbread house kit he picked up at the local store.
Warnings: Fluff, playful banter, NSFW, explicit sexual content, consensual intimacy
A/N: This is for @moosekateer13 I'm your secret Santa for @spnfanficpond's Secret Santa 2024. I'm using the prompt for the @fluff-cember challenge, day 6: gingerbread house. I hope you like it!
The sound of the wind whistling outside the inn’s window pairs perfectly with the crackling of the small fireplace across the room. The case has been quiet so far—too quiet—but for tonight, you’ve managed to carve out a rare moment of peace. You’re curled up on the couch, flipping idly through an old book you picked up at the local thrift store when the sound of Sam clearing his throat pulls your attention. He stands in the doorway, his tall frame slightly hunched to accommodate the low ceiling. In his hands, he holds a brightly colored box, his dimples deepening as he grins at you.
“What’s that?” you ask, sitting up and tucking the blanket around your legs. Sam steps closer, holding up the box—a gingerbread house kit. It’s kitschy, with cartoon snowmen and candy canes decorating the front, but something about the gesture warms your chest. “Seriously? You bought that?”
Sam chuckles, setting the box on the coffee table in front of you. “I figured we could use a break. And hey, it’s festive.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Alright, Winchester. Let’s do this.”
The table is soon transformed into a sugary battleground. The kit includes walls, a roof, frosting in a plastic bag, and an assortment of candies that look slightly questionable but smell undeniably sweet. Sam carefully arranges everything with the precision of someone who has built a thousand IKEA bookshelves while you eye the frosting like a hawk–already scheming. “Okay, we start with the base,” Sam says, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pipes a line of frosting along the edge of the cookie walls. His big hands are surprisingly steady, and you can’t help but admire his focus.
“That’s cute,” you tease, picking up your own piping bag. “But my side is going to blow yours out of the water.”
“Oh, we’re making this a competition now?” Sam raises an eyebrow, his grin growing. “I thought this was supposed to be a team effort.”
“Teamwork is overrated,” you reply, nudging his elbow just enough to make his line of frosting wobble.
“Hey!” he protests, laughing. “You’re going to regret that.”
It starts innocently enough. You’re both diligently working on your respective sides of the gingerbread house, each stealing glances at the other’s progress. Sam’s side is neat, with perfectly aligned gumdrops and a roof that could be in a magazine. Yours… well, it has personality. “Why do you have all the gumdrops?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as Sam sneaks yet another piece of candy onto his side.
“Because I got here first,” he says, popping one into his mouth for good measure.
“That’s cheating,” you declare, grabbing the frosting bag and aiming it at him. Without thinking, you swipe a dollop of frosting across the bridge of his nose. The look of pure shock on his face makes you burst out laughing.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” Sam warns, his voice low and teasing. Before you can react, he dips his finger into the frosting and smears it across your cheek. You gasp, feigning outrage as you grab a handful of flour from the nearby bowl and toss it at him. It’s chaos after that—frosting, flour, and candy flying in every direction. Sam’s laugh is loud and carefree, the kind of sound you don’t hear often enough from him, and it fills the small room like sunlight.
By the time the battle subsides, the table is a disaster. Flour dusts the air, and bits of candy stick to your fingers. The gingerbread house stands in the center, a wobbly, candy-laden masterpiece that looks like it barely survived a storm. You’re both out of breath, sitting side by side on the couch and surveying the mess. “Well,” you say, brushing a streak of frosting from your arm. “It’s not winning any awards, but it’s ours.”
Sam leans forward, inspecting the lopsided roof with a critical eye. “It’s got character,” he agrees, his voice soft. You glance at him, your heart skipping a beat, when you notice the frosting still smeared on his nose. Without thinking, you reach out and wipe it away with your thumb. His green eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the room feels impossibly quiet.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. Before you can respond, he leans in, closing the space between you. His lips are warm and soft against yours, the kiss slow and sweet, like the moment itself. When he pulls back, his hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray bit of flour.
The air between you shifts, charged with something deeper, something you’ve both been skirting around for weeks. His eyes darken, flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admits, his voice husky.
Your breath hitches, and before you can think, you’re tugging him closer, kissing him with a fervor that surprises even you. His hands find your waist, pulling you onto his lap as the kiss deepens, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans softly against your mouth, the sound making your pulse race.
Sam’s hands slide under your sweater, his touch warm against your skin as he trails his fingers up your back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips moving to your neck, kissing and nibbling along your jawline until you’re squirming in his lap.
You tug at his flannel shirt, pushing it off his shoulders to reveal the toned muscles underneath. He’s breathtaking, all broad shoulders and lean strength, and the way he’s looking at you makes your knees weak. “Sam,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as he shifts, laying you down on the couch and settling between your thighs.
He pauses, his hand cupping your cheek as he searches your eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice gentle despite the tension in his body.
“Yes,” you breathe, pulling him down for another kiss.
Sam’s lips trail fire down your neck as his hands caress your sides, the warmth of his touch chasing away every thought but him. He shifts his weight, pressing his body against yours, and the heat of him sears through your clothes. Your hands slide over the planes of his shoulders, gripping him as his mouth moves lower, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.
The soft glow of the fire bathes the room in flickering light, casting shadows across Sam’s face as he pulls back to look at you. His hair falls slightly into his eyes, his lips swollen, and his chest heaving. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “I don’t think I can take my time with you.”
Your fingers skim over his jaw, your thumb tracing the edge of his lips. “Who says I want you to?” you tease, your voice breathy. The words light a spark in him, and he leans down, claiming your lips with renewed intensity.
In one fluid motion, he sits back, lifting you into his arms as though you weigh nothing. You let out a soft laugh of surprise, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he settles over you. The tension between you hums like a live wire, the weight of his body grounding you in the moment.
His hands are sure as they slide beneath your sweater, pushing it up and over your head. You shiver as the cool air brushes your skin, but Sam’s touch is quick to warm you. He leans down, his lips brushing across your shoulder, then lower, kissing along the curve of your breast. Your back arches as his hands explore, every touch sending sparks skittering down your spine.
You tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He obliges, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Your hands roam over his chest, marveling at the heat and strength of him, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch. Sam groans softly as your fingers trace the lines of his abdomen, his hips pressing against yours in response.
“God, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs, his lips finding yours again. His kiss is fierce, all-consuming, and you lose yourself in the sensation of him. His hands trail down your sides, hooking into the waistband of your pants and tugging them down. You help him, shimmying out of them as he follows with his own, leaving you both bare and vulnerable in the firelight.
Sam pauses, his gaze raking over you as though committing every detail to memory. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice reverent. His words make your heart flutter, but there’s no time to dwell on them as he leans down, his lips brushing over your ear. “Let me show you.”
What follows is a blur of sensation—his lips and hands exploring every inch of you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, the way his body moves with yours in perfect rhythm. The fire crackles in the hearth, the snow falls softly outside, and the world narrows to the heat between you, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.
Time seems to stand still as you reach the peak together, his name spilling from your lips as he groans yours into your neck. He holds you close, his body trembling slightly as the moment washes over you both. The room is silent except for the sound of your breathing, the fire casting a warm glow over the two of you.
Sam rolls onto his side, pulling you into his arms. His hand brushes your hair back from your face, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I think we make a damn good team,” he murmurs, his voice low and content.
You smile, resting your head against his chest. “Only when you don’t steal all the gumdrops,” you reply, your tone teasing but affectionate.
He chuckles, his laugh rumbling against your cheek. “Fair enough. Next time, I’ll share.” His arms tighten around you, and you let yourself relax into his embrace, the warmth of him and the fire lulling you into a blissful haze.
The snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the world in quiet, but inside the inn, the earlier chaos has given way to something softer, deeper, and undeniably real. For now, the case and the danger can wait. Tonight, it’s just you and Sam, and that’s more than enough.
The next day, Piper and Jack had already been awake when morning came around. However, Piper darted out of the room when she heard a scream. Jack followed his sister and the two of them arrived at Emily's room. Ms. Mead was already there and she was holding two dead black snakes.
"This is good eating" she comments.
Emily looks at her repulsed by the idea of eating snakes. Ms. Mead turned around and walked out of the room, not saying anything to the twins. Piper slipped into the room to check on Emily.
"Are you alright?" She asks.
"Yes, they just startled me" Emily answered.
"How'd they even get in here? I thought everything outside died due to the radiation because of the missiles" Jack said.
"I thought so too, until you two showed up. And then those snakes" Emily said.
"Jack, we should probably go. Remember, it's our duty to serve while we're here and we don't want to get into trouble" Piper tells her brother.
"She's right. You guys can go now. I'm alright, I promise" Emily said.
Jack looked her over before following his sister out of the room. The twins headed down to the living area where they stood beside Mallory, conversing with her when they weren't called on.
That afternoon when the survivors in Outpost 3 relaxed while the grays did chores, an alarm went off. The twins looked at each other before rushing over to Mallory.
"What's going on?" Jack asked.
"I think that's the proximity alarm. We've had a breach" Mallory tells him.
The twins looked at each other in concern. Ms. Mead and Ms. Venable looked at each other before leaving to see what got into Outpost 3. The purples began to whisper amongst themselves, wondering what breached the underground bunker.
When dinner came around, the nutritional cubes were not served this time. This time, it was snake soup. Ms. Mead poured the soup in to bowls and it was up to the greys to serve them to the purples. Once all the purples had been given bowls of soup, the greys got their own bowls of soup. However, no one got the chance to eat because black snakes slithered out of the bowls and the pot. The purples jumped back in fear and the greys dropped their bowls. Ms. Mead lead everyone to the sitting room.
"Who's in your office Ms. Venable?" Emily asked.
Ms. Venable didn't get a chance to answer because there were footsteps coming towards the sitting room. The twins looked up from where they stood against the wall to see a man dressed in black and had long dirty blonde hair. He moved to stand by Ms. Venable only to tilt his head at her, making her move out of his way then stood in her place.
"Jack, I don't like him. I can feel some kind of evil vibe coming off of him" Piper whispered to her twin quietly so no one else could hear.
"I can feel it too Pipes, just stay calm" Jack told his sister.
"My name is Langdon and I represent the Cooperative. I won't sugarcoat the situation, humanity is on the brink of failure. My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth. The three other compounds in Syracuse, New York, Beckley, West Virginia, and San Angelo, Texas have been overrun and destroyed. We've had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they, too, have been eliminated." the man spoke.
"What happened to the people inside?" Andre asked.
"Massacred. The same fate that will befall almost all of you" Langdon answered.
"Almost all?" Evie asked.
"In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe The Sanctuary. The Sanctuary is unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun." Langdon stated.
"Excuse me sir, what measures? And why weren't we given them?" Ms. Mead asked him.
"That's classified" Langdon answered her.
"All that matters is that The Sanctuary will survive, so the people populating it will survive, so humanity will survive." he continued.
"Who are the people populating it?" Mr. Gallant asked.
"That's also classified" Langdon told him.
"However, I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us." he said.
The survivors whispered and murmured amongst themselves at the new information of a possible chance of surviving the radiation outside.
"The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call "Cooperating." I will then use the information gained to determine if you belong." Langdon continued, interrupting everyone's discussions.
"What is this, the Hunger Games? This is bullshit" Coco commented. "I paid my way in here, and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing" she continued.
"You don't have to sit for questioning" Langdon said.
"What happens if we choose not to?" Timothy asked.
"Then you stay here and die" Langdon tells him.
"I volunteer to go first" Mr. Gallant said, raising his hand.
"And so you shall. For those of you who don't make the cut, all is not lost. If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking, down one of these. One minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up. I look forward to meeting each and every one of you." Langdon said as he held up a small vile of pills.
"Well smooth move, asking to go first" Coco tells her friend Mr. Gallant.
Langdon and Mr. Gallant walked out of the sitting area. Everyone else talked amongst themselves, Evie and Coco began to argue.
"There's an old actor's adage. Either go first or go last" Evie said.
"You're not going anywhere" Coco told her.
"Are you suggesting that he is going to pass me up?" Evie asked her.
"You're ancient. He's looking for people to repopulate the Earth, not fill a bingo hall." Coco tells her.
"You know, for someone with the mental capacity of a three-year-old, I suppose 52 might seem ancient." Evie replied to Coco.
The twins watched the two women fight, before following Mallory's lead to returning to the kitchen and cleaning up the spilled soup. Mr. Gallant's interview lasted all day and everyone returned to their rooms come lights out.
Eleven months. It'd been almost a year since Castiel had seen Faith, months since she'd pinned him up against the wall of the bunker, an angel blade to his throat. But he couldn't hold it against her, he knew she was in massive pain over losing Sam and Dean Winchester. The angel still couldn't believe his family was gone. It even felt like Faith was dead. The happy lively girl was gone, and what remained, he didn't recognize. He knew she was still alive, the stories he'd heard over the last few months told him so. Silence is what they were calling her now, and the demons Castiel had run into were terrified of her. The brutality of her kills, demons and monsters alike, even some angels. The way she'd stalk her 'victims'. They refused to talk about her, but when they did, they spoke with such fear that Castiel almost swore they were talking about someone else entirely: Brutal, violent, vengeful, cutthroat, cold, heartless, and that's just to name a few. He remembered the last demon he'd run into.
"Where is she?!" Cas asked the demon.
"I don't know. I'm trying to stay away from the bitch. She's lost her damn mind ever since the Winchesters." Castiel growled and pulled the demon by his coat collar.
"Don't you even speak their name." He plunged his angel blade up through the demon's jaw, the white light spilling from its eyes before he dropped the body and stalked back to his car, the pain of the loss of his friends still fresh.
A single tear fell down his cheek as he thought of Sam and Dean, wondering what they would do in this situation. What Dean would do to bring her home. Of course, that wasn't even a question. If Dean were around, he wouldn't be tracking her down. Castiel swallowed hard and turned his pained blue eyes up to a starless, silent night sky. "Faith, please..I know you're out there. Let me help you. You don't have to do this alone, I know how you feel."
"You couldn't possibly know how I feel." A startlingly cold female voice broke the silence surrounding the angel as he turned to face the owner. She was dressed in ripped jeans, her black boots, the Samulet, a red flannel over a black tee-shirt. Her now black hair was done up in a braided pony tail. Her blue eyes were darker. They were no longer bright with life and love and light. All they held now was rage and heartbreak and determination. Despite everything, Cas was happy to see her.
"What do you want, Castiel?" the girl asked, swallowing thickly.
"What do I want? Faith, I wanna see you. I wanted to see how you are, I haven't seen you in almost a year."
"Okay," the girl answered and shrugged, glancing down at herself.
"Now, you've seen me. I'm gonna go now," she said and turned to leave.
"No, wait, please. Faith, please."
"Cas, don't." Her voice broke into a whisper, and Cas could feel her pain, even with the distance between them. She turned back to him and shook her head. "I can't, okay? Just let me go."
"You know I can't do that. Dean wouldn't want--"
"I don't give a shit what he would want!" Faith cried out, her breathing shaky, her eyes glowing blue. "I didn't want him to die, him or Sam! And they did anyway! They left me here, ALONE! So I don't give a shit what he wants!" she growled, then bit the inside of her cheek as she swallowed hard, the tears falling down her cheeks. Cas' brow furrowed as he took a step towards her, freezing when she took a step back.
"How could you think that they chose to leave you? How could you ever think that?"
"Dean's final words to me painted a clear message. 'Be happy.'" Her voice cracked as she clenched her jaw, the tears still falling. "He didn't want me to join them in Heaven."
"Faith, Dean loved you. He still does. He wants you to--"
"What? Live my life? Castiel, it physically hurts to breathe. Every breath I take just reminds me that Dean isn't taking any. It takes everything I have and then some to keep going, to get out of bed. And I know, if I could just get rid of every monster, demon, and douchebag angel that exists, I can be happy with my boys in Heaven. But I don't trust other hunters to get the job done. So, I'm doing it myself."
"Faith, you can't keep going like this."
"Why not? Huh? What should I do instead, Castiel? What? Pretend I'm normal? Human? Get a house in Lawrence and raise a family and act for the rest of my life like I didn't lose the love of my life and Sammy? What, cut that part of my life off and pretend it never happened? You may be an angel and can turn off your humanity, but those boys meant everything to me. They were my everything, and now, I have nothing."
"That's not true. You still have me. And Jody, and Donna, and Claire. Faith, listen to me, I'm still here and I can help you get through this." The girl shook her head and sighed.
"I'm of no use to them, Cas. I'm of no use to you. I am so broken, I don't think I can be put back together. And I'm not sure I want to. Cause then, what does that say about me?" Faith fell to her knees and let her head fall. "I just want to see them. I want my boys. I want Dean. They didn't deserve to die. They should've gotten out and gotten normal lives. I wanted to spend my life with Dean, grow old together, watch our kids and grandkids play in the yard." She rocked herself back and forth, her eyes squeezed shut. "They deserved better. I failed my boys and now they're dead. It's my fault." Castiel cried as he watched her, then knelt down and gently tilted her chin up, and wiped a tear from her eye.
"Faith Delaney. You know this isn't who you are, this...caped crusader person..you're a Winchester." The name brought fresh tears to Faith's eyes.
"I want my boys, Cas. I miss them so much, I can't do this. I can't. Please, Cas..please," she cried, burying her face in his shoulder as she cried, unable to hold back the tide. The pain threatened to tear her apart. "Just let me die, Cas. Please? Let me be with them." The angel held his friend and let her grieve, crying along with her as he set his chin on her head.
It was awhile before Faith pulled herself together and got to her feet, looking down at the angel who then stood up in front of her. She swallowed hard and licked her lips. "So, now what? You turn me in to your angel bosses for being a bad little Nephilim?"
"No, of course not. Faith, I didn't come here to retrieve you." Faith just watched him for any signs he was lying to her. "Do you really think I'd turn on you, for Heaven?" he asked, sounding genuinely hurt. The girl took a beat before shrugging one shoulder, swallowing thickly.
"Well, I've killed a few angels that came down and had the sack to try and arrest me. Six in total. Unless I'm going to see my boys, I'm not going anywhere near that hellhole."
"That's actually why I wanted to find you. I can take you to see them." Faith backed off with a growl.
"Don't play games with me, you son of a bitch. Do not do that." Castiel rose his hands and locked eyes with her.
"Faith, I swear to you, this is real. I will take you to see Sam and Dean in their heaven." The girl tilted her head as she eased closer, glancing around, half expecting an army of angels to show up with enochian cuffs before she gave in and looked back at the angel in front of her.
"Promise me."
"I promise, Faith, this isn't a trick." He held his hand out to her. Faith hesitated, but placed her hand in his.
A white two-story house stood in front of Faith and Cas, with a wrap around porch, Baby in the driveway, and Dean in a rocking chair in the front porch. A brown haired little girl and a sandy-blond haired little boy ran around laughing in the front yard, not even noticing their guests. Tears rose in Faith's eyes as she moved towards the front porch. Dean stood, the smile disappearing as he moved down the steps and towards Faith, setting his glass down on the steps. Faith took a shaky breath as he now stood before her.
"Dean?" she whispered, then reached up and cupped his face in her hand, tilting her head as he leaned into her touch, his eyes falling closed before he opened them again and gently pulled her into his arms, tightening his hold on her as she began to cry into his shoulder, holding on with a death grip. Dean cradled the back of her head and kissed the side of her head, tenderly. When the two pulled apart, Dean rested his head against hers, and Faith took a breath as she looked up at him. "You're domestic." The man smiled crookedly at her.
"Yeah, I am. With you." Faith swallowed hard, her brow furrowing in confusion. "You're here, sweetheart, you and the kids that I always wanted." Faith's eyes fell to the two children, still running around and playing.
"Those are our kids?" she asked, earning a nod from the former hunter, his arm wrapping around her. "Come on, come inside," he said and took her hand, leading her back up the steps. Faith turned back to Cas who shook his head.
"You go ahead, Faith, I'll be waiting." She then turned and went inside with Dean. Once inside, she looked around and swallowed hard.
"So, this would've been our life together," she said, softly, stroking one picture in particular. One that existed in real life, on her nightstand in the bunker. One of the two of them, Dean kissing her cheek in the driver's seat of Baby. Both of them laughing, both of them happy. Faith turned to find Dean standing in front of her, his eyes full of love as he leaned down and claimed her lips with his own, setting his hands on her hips. Faith felt like she could breathe again, as she kissed Dean with every ounce of feeling she had. Pulling back after several minutes, she looked up at him and bit her lower lip.
"Why?" she asked. "Dean, why did you leave me? You promised me-"
"I know, sweetheart. I know." Faith's lip trembled as she took a shaky breath. "How are you?" he asked. Faith laughed a broken laugh, surprised by his question.
"How am I? You can't tell?" she asked, then swallowed hard and shrugged, trying to find the words.
"I'm dead inside, I can't even begin to describe what it's like to live without you. I wouldn't even call it living. Hunting is all I do anymore. I don't even live at the bunker anymore. But soon, it will all be over." Dean's brow furrowed as he slid his hand into hers.
"What are you talking about?" he asked. Faith shook her head as she sat down on one of the steps.
"Dean, I can't do this. I can't. I've gone eleven months without you, but I have no idea how. I've lost my family, the only people who keep me going, who make me laugh, who...give me life. Once I've eliminated every demon and monster and every other son of a bitch infesting the planet, I'll be done. I'm not doing this without you anymore. I have nothing but time now, and yet, all I want is you." Dean knelt down in front of her.
"Sweetheart, you can't do this." The girl swallowed hard as she locked eyes with him.
"Are you saying you don't want me to join you up here?" she asked, her voice breaking. Dean sighed and took his ring off before gently taking her hand and sliding it onto her thumb.
"Listen to me, okay?" he asked, earning her attention. "I know you're hurting right now, but it will get better." Faith scoffed and stood, and moved into what looked like the kitchen, knowing he would follow her.
"Dean, I don't want it to get better, I want to be with you." She moved closer to him and cupped his face in her hand, swallowing thickly. "And up here, we can be together for eternity, in peace. Neither of us will get killed or get sick. We don't have to hunt, we don't have to worry about each other." Dean glanced down at her, sliding his hands into hers and lacing their fingers together.
"I know, baby. I know," he whispered, then pulled her into his arms and kissed the side of her head again.
"I have nothing without you," she whispered, keeping a death grip on his flannel. "I love you so much, Dean, god...you have no idea," she said and pulled back to look into the hazel eyes she still continued to fall for. "You're the best thing in my life," she whispered, then leaned up and kissed him with every ounce of love that she felt for him, able to feel like herself for a moment again. Dean slowly pulled back, then kissed her forehead, holding her tightly against him.
"I have something for you." He pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket and dipped down to one knee, opening it to reveal his mother's ring. "Faith Delaney. Even dead, I know you're the love of my life. You were it for me, and you still are. I want you to be mine forever. I love you, Faith, more than you could imagine. Will you marry me?" he asked, earning a tearful nod from the girl. He took the ring and slid it onto her finger before kissing her once more, Faith's hands moving to the back of his neck. He lifted her onto his waist and set on the couch, holding her in his lap. The two stayed like that for several hours, until Cas came to get Faith. Tears welled up in her eyes before turning back to Dean, swallowing hard.
"Where's Sammy? He okay? I wanna see him before..." she bit her lip and glanced up at him.
"Yeah, uh, let me take you to him." He took her hand and led her out the back to the house right next door, walking in through the back door with Faith in tow. He came across his brother in the library, reading research.
"Why am I not surprised? Man comes to Heaven and starts reading lore," Faith asked, a warm smile crossing her lips, causing the man to look up, recognition lighting up his eyes. He stood from the desk and moved to her and hugged her tightly. Faith held onto Sam tightly, inhaling his scent, trying to keep her composure.
"Please tell me you're not--" Sam pulled back and looked down at her.
"No, I'm...well, I'm breathing. Unfortunately." Faith tried to smile, but it came out pained before she bit her lip and slid her hand back into Dean's, lacing their fingers together. "How are you, Sam?" she asked. Sam shrugged and nodded.
"We're hanging in there, you know, its..different up here. We haven't found Bobby yet, but I'm looking." Faith smiled softly as she looked up at him.
"You're supposed to be, I don't know, drinking margaritas or protein shakes, or whatever it is you drink, and relaxing. Not looking for dead people." Faith finally felt somewhat normal, despite knowing she'd have to go back soon. The reminder made her flinch as she swallowed hard and gently tightened her grip on Dean's hand. He noticed and leaned over, kissing the side of her head.
"I see Dean finally gave you the ring." Faith glanced down and smiled softly. "But as far as we're concerned, you've always been a Winchester. That just makes it legal," Sam said with a wink. Faith smiled, the name making her flinch again before her eyes fell.
"Problem is, I'm going back to a world without you two. And I don't know how to get through every minute of every day without you. I'm lost and scared and cold and alone. You two were my home and now you're gone and I'm just...alone."
"Sweetheart, you're never alone," Dean said, wrapping his arms around her from behind, kissing her cheek. "You have Jody and--"
"Dean, they're not you. And I'm alot further than out of my head with grief. I'm a zombie most of the time, unless I'm hunting. Its like I become something else. And I don't care anymore. I hunt cause I can take my rage out on something. I just wanna be with you two." Dean sighed, looking up at his brother.
"Faith, I want you to do something for me. Go home, and go to Jody's, and grieve. Don't hunt, don't do anything. Please. Do this for me. I don't want you hunting, and you know better than to hunt alone."
"What about you?" she asked, her voice breaking. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked.
"Sweetheart, just let them be there for you. I don't want to worry about you, Faith." She leaned her head against his and closed her eyes, swallowing hard, then looked up at Sam, taking his hand into hers.
"I love you both. So much more than you'll ever know. Sammy, you're my brother, my best friend. And Dean, you...god, I don't even know where to begin. You're the love of my life." Dean smiled softly and kissed her temple.
"I know you can do this, sweetheart. You're the strongest woman I've ever known. And I'll always be there with you. I'll be that annoying voice in your head." Faith smiled softly and turned her head, kissing his cheek and closing her eyes.
"I love you both so much," she whispered and glanced up at Sam, then turned to Dean and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.
"Dean--"
"I know, baby," he whispered and reluctantly pulled back. "I love you, Faith. I always have, and I always will. But I want you to be happy. Go live your life, live for me," he said, taking her hands into his. "And when the credits roll for you, I'll be right here waiting for you." He swallowed thickly, knowing how he felt and that she didn't want to leave him. "I love you, sweetheart." Faith shook her head and licked her lips, then leaned up and kissed him before pulling away from him completely. She hugged Sam tightly, whispering her love to him as well, then pulled away from the Winchester brothers and drug her feet back to Castiel. She took one last glance over her shoulder and forced a smile, and before she knew it, she was standing outside Jody's house, where everybody was waiting for her. Faith moved towards Jody and hugged her tightly, crying into the sheriff's shoulder. Jody held the girl tightly, cradling the back of Faith's head to her shoulder, slightly rocking. She looked up at Castiel and nodded in agreement that she would take care of Faith for the time being, and the angel disappeared.
"I gotcha now, sweetheart. You're gonna be okay, we're all here. Okay?" she soothed the girl and the Wayward Daughters went into the house.
Unnatural Rebellions // Sam Winchester x Daughter!Reader
Masterlist // Who I Write For // Prompts
“Hey dad!” a voice echoed throughout the bunker, Sam looked up for the research he was doing to find his daughter standing by the doorway of the library, she had bed head and looked as if she had only just woke up (she was still in her pyjamas),
“Hey sweetheart, just woke up?” he asked, chuckling to himself while she nodded softly,
“Yeah I was doing some research last night and I must have fallen asleep late.” Sam nodded at her explanation. She was always going to sleep late she was so much like her uncle, which was much against Sam’s liking sometimes he didn't know whether he was talking to Dean or Y/N. It was at that point Dean walked into the library,
“Hey have you guys had breakfast?” Dean questioned, food was always on his mind, Sam rolled his eyes.
“No, we haven’t I was thinking of going to the diner down the road for some when you guys were finally awake.” Sam said Dean looked happy about the idea of getting food cooked for him and Y/N just seemed happy at the thought of bacon, another thing she got from her uncle was her love for junk food, she never really picked up in Sams healthy diets.
“Sure just let me get dressed, I’ll be out in a minute.” the brothers nodded at the young girl, Sam looked back down at his research but was interrupted by Deans voice,
“You know she went out last night right?” Sam looked up quickly,
“What do you mean?” he question, Dean looked surprised, normally Sam knows exactly where his daughter went (not because he's protective it just so he knows to incase she gets into trouble, shes a Winchester afterall),
“I saw her leave the bunker and come back at about 1am when I asked her where she had been she just smiled and ran to her room. I decided to let it go, I thought you would've known. She knows what sort of trouble follows the Winchester name.” Dean explained, at this point, Sam had a big frown on his face ready to start questioning his daughter on her whereabouts but once again he was stopped.
“I can explain all that but can we talk over food? I'm really hungry.” a small voice sounded into the tense room, Sam and Dean looked up to see Y/N ready to get breakfast.
“You know what I'm not even going to argue with that right now, I'm hungry too, come on let's go but little missy I want the truth once we get to the diner,” Sam said sternly, Y/N nooded in reply.
-----------
Once they arrived at the diner the family sat down in a booth and the waitress took their order,
“Alright little miss, start talking, where were you last night?” Sam questioned, Y/N looked at him and sighed,
“Okay fine, I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I was doing research. Originally I was in my room reading through the books you gave me yesterday to read through and find information for the case, but in those books, I found something really cool about the bunker, so I left the bunker to test it out...”
“Do you really think I was born yesterday Y/N, I know when you lie to me. Tell me the truth I promise I won’t overreact.” Sam explained, Y/N sighed once again,
“Fine. I went out to see a new friend, I’ve already tested him with everything I can so don't worry he's clean. I met him the other day while we were out shopping. He came over to me while I was sitting on the car and complimented her,” a small ‘hell yeah’ could be heard from Dean “any way he gave me his number and said that I should meet up with him, so I have been. Mainly with his friends as well, but last night we went out to see a film and that's why I got in late...” Sam and Dean sat there for a while, how had they not realised Y/N had been going out without telling them. At that point, they realised she had told them but through her explanations was the truth.
“Well played Y/N you’re smarter than me and your dad. Your grandad would’ve caught it straight away if he were here though.” Dean smiled trying to lighten the tense mood, Y/N laughed at her uncle’s words,
“Well yeah but you weren’t a good liar when you were younger uncle Dean, or that’s what dad has always told me,” she answered, Dean, turning to his younger brother in surprise that he would say such a thing.
“Okay I might have said that a few times, I'm not wrong dude, dad always knew what was happening with us, but we're not talking about that right now. Y/N why didn't you just tell us you were going out with this by, you know we wouldn't have said no, anytime you get to have a normal life I’ll let you.” Sam asked Y/N looked down as the waitress came over with the food. After saying thank you Y/N decided to answer her dad's question,
“I guess that's not how normal families react to that sort of situation, I just wanted to be a rebellious teenager for once so I decided to sneak out, but I guess uncle Dean caught me and I thought it was fun. I don’t know I just wanted to be normal for once.” Sam nodded at his daughter. She looked so much like Jess it was scary, though he adored that his daughter looked more like her mother, but the height was all him and he loved that. Looking at how his daughter had grown and what life she’s had to grow up in, going from living in an apartment living a normal life with both her mother and father, to having to quickly learn how to use a gun and fight all the monsters that should actually be in her closet, he got knocked out of his thoughts to dean saying,
“Are you gonna eat that or can we have it?” pointing to his breakfast, Sam rolled his eyes,
“Stop thinking with you’re stomach dean.” knocking his hand away, the famiy laughed,
“I’m not saying what you did was a bad thing, but I’m also not saying it was a good thing either, okay?” Y/N nodded “just remember to tell us before you go anywhere just for your safety okay?” Y/N nodded once again. The family then sat and talked for a while before setting off home, happy and full.
warnings: fluff, lil bit of gore n torture, some swearing
summary: you get hurt while on the run from heaven and confide in castiel to help. he brings you to the winchesters and their bunker to rest and heal [takes place during season eight-ish of supernatural]
word count: 5.1k
author’s note: this might become a mini-series or something, by the end of writing this i loved it a little too much, but we’ll see (: (oh, also, [y/e/c means your eye color!)
A scream tears its way through your throat as the demon slashes the blade down your abdomen. You tried to fight back, to back away, to do anything to stop your pain, but the enochian shackles around your wrists bound you from doing anything, including healing. Blood poured from your new wound as the demon wiped the blade and placed it back on the silver tray, and he turned back to you.
“I’m going to ask you this one more time, where is the demon tablet?”
“Go. To. Hell,” you spit back, your drooping eyes looking to make contact with the demon’s black ones. A sneer found its way to his face as he picked the blade back up slashed your cheek. You held back a whimper as more blood trickled down your already carved up face.
“If you just tell me what I want to know,” the demon sighed, walking around to face your backside, the blade drawing a line down your spine, “all of this could be over.”
You remained silent, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent any more noises from coming out, tired of giving the demon the satisfaction of your screams. You heard the demon let out a ‘tsk’ and he leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. You shivered at the feeling.
“You know,” he whispered, “I heard rumors about angels. If you apply enough pressure and pain to a certain spot on their backs, you can get those pretty little wings to appear.” The blade danced across the skin of your back, bringing goosebumps to the surface of your vessel’s skin.
Panic shot through you at the thought of the demon finding your pressure point, your achilles heel, but you tried your hardest to keep a poker face. “Is that so?” you whispered, keeping your face blank.
The demon hummed in response, and thrust the blade directly into your skin, just below your left shoulder blade, and your head shot back as your scream pierced through the night, the windows of the warehouse shattering at the volume of the scream.
Before you could prevent it, your wings unfolded from your body, golden feathers lighting up the shadows the darkness of the night caused. The demon chuckled in triumph at the sight of your wings, walking around to face you again. Panic cursed through your veins as the demons eyes flickered black, a smirk drawn onto its face.
“We’re going to have a fun time.”
—
Halfway across the country, Castiel sat at one of the many tables in the library of the bunker, talking to Sam and Dean about the trials. Now free from Naomi's control, he was trying to get back into his old way of life, before Purgatory and the hallucinations of Lucifer caused him to go crazy.
As Dean begrudgingly began answering one of Castiel’s many questions about human life, a sharp ringing rippled through Castiel’s ears, causing him to clutch his head in pain, letting out a strangled noise. Immediately, Sam and Dean were on their feet, worry flooding through the brothers at the sight of their friend.
“Cas, buddy, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, worry laced through every word. “Talk to me, man.”
The ringing stopped, and Castiel looked to his friends in despair. “I have to go.”
Before ‘wait’ could pass through the lips of the either of the brothers, Castiel had already disappeared with the sound of his wings fluttering, only to appear moments later with a body curled up in his arms.
“What the hell?” Sam asked, instinctively reaching out to help Castiel lay the girl down on the table they were just sitting at.
“Cas, who is this?” he asked the angel, a worried looked on his face.
“[Y/N]. She’s an angel. She’s been gone from Heaven long before Gabriel. I heard the sound of her pain and found her like this,” he explained.
“What happened to her?” Dean asked, his hand resting on the gun he kept in the waistband of his jeans.
“Demons,” Castiel responded curtly. “They hurt her, bad. And I’m afraid what you can see right now isn’t the worst of it.”
“How could it get any worse?” Sam asked, his eyes grazing over the open wounds and caked blood littering your body. He watched the blood seep from your open wounds and onto the mahogany table under your still body, your stomach rising and falling in short, uneven breaths.
Castiel gave the younger brother an indistinguishable look before placing a hand to your forehead, a golden light shining through the bunker for a moment before disappearing. When the light vanished completely, the brothers looked down to you, their eyes widening in astonishment. Your once grand and beautiful golden wings were shredded and torn, blood dripping from each feather, a long gash running through the center of each wing.
“The demon that held her was looking for information on the demon tablet,” Castiel explained to the brothers. “[Y/N] was there when the tablets were created. If any angel had information on them, it would be her.”
“So he tortured her for information. Do you know if she gave him any?” Dean asked, sneaking a glance in your direction, not wanting to get caught staring at your body.
“She didn’t. I heard the sound her wings gave off when he started ripping them apart. It’s a self defense mechanism each angel has,” he explained, placing a hand back to your forehead to let your wings fold back into your body. “Wings are sacred among angels, it’s where most of our grace is. She’ll need to be protected while she heals from the inside before she can return back to the outside world.”
Dean caught on fast to the underlying tone of his friend’s voice. “By protection, you mean keep her here?” he asked.
“Please,” Castiel sighed, “[Y/N] is a good angel, she always has been. Just let her stay here until she gets better.”
“Yeah, Cas, that’s fine,” Sam declared, not giving his brother a choice in the matter. He ignored the pointed look Dean gave him and continued. “We should bring her to one of the spare rooms and clean her up a bit before she wakes.”
Castiel nodded his head. “I’ll help you.”
—
The first thing you felt when you began to stir was an unimaginable pain shooting all over your body. You felt a warm, soft surface below your body, and something even softer under your head. You blinked your eyes open, having trouble adjusting to the brightness of the room. Looking around, you panicked, not recognizing the four walls around you.
You heard footsteps approaching the cracked door and you stood as quickly as you could, grabbing the nearest object, which so happened to be a thick, hardcover book, to prepare yourself in case you were under attack. You hid against the maroon wall, right next to the door and tried to ignored the sharp pain that shot through your body.
A hand placed itself on the outside of the door and slowly pushed open, and when a figure came into your line of sight, you brought the book down to the intruders head. He ducked down at the contact and clutched his head in pain, letting out a low groan.
“Man, what the fuck was that for?” he whined, rubbing the spot where you hit him.
You paused, breathing heavy. “I’m… not under attack?” you questioned.
“No, you idiot, we’re trying to help you.”
You dropped the book to the ground and clutched your side in pain, blood beginning to seep from a wound that decided to reopen due to your frantic movements.
“Oh, well, sorry,” you breathed out, leaning your body against the wall. The person stood up straight as two more people came barreling through the door.
“[Y/N],” one of them spoke, relieved to see you up and about.
It took you a second to recognize who it was, but once you did you couldn’t help the smile that ran over your face. “Castiel, hello.”
“I’m surprised you recognized me,” he admitted. You wince, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the open wound on your side or the underlying meaning of his words. Before you could apologize for your absence in your brother’s life, you were cut off by a gruff voice.
“Uh, I hate to cut this reunion short, but maybe you should sit down,” the man that you hit in the head with the book suggested.
“Right,” you huffed, making your way back over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. “Brother, I must ask, where am I? And who are these people?”
Castiel smiled at you. “You’re at the safest place on Earth right now, and these boys are Sam and Dean Winchester. They’re going to watch after you while you heal.”
You looked to the brothers, the taller one, Sam, had a soft smile on his face, welcoming you into his home. The shorter one, Dean, the one you whacked with the book, however, didn’t share the same welcoming look as his brother.
“That’s not necessary,” you argued, going to stand back up, but Sam was immediately at your side, pushing you back to the bed.
“It is, [Y/N]. We saw how bad the damage was… Your wings,” he trailed off, and you lowered your gaze to the ground.
“How bad is it?” you whispered, eyes glued to the hardwood floor.
“It’s bad,” Dean said gruffly. “And until you get better, you’re stuck here.”
“Don’t worry,” Castiel assured, “you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
—
‘No time’ had turned out to be longer than you or either of the Winchesters expected. Days turned to weeks which turned to months, and you still weren’t one hundred percent better. All your physical wounds were healed, but your wings refused to get better.
You had yet to bring them out, too afraid, and even ashamed, of what they looked like to look at them and view the damage yourself. The pain you felt in them was getting to the point where it was unbearable, and the Winchesters knew that, too. It seemed to cause the brothers to walk on eggshells around you, unable to begin to imagine the pain you were in at every moment of your days. They let you be for most of your time at the bunker, trying to make your stay as comfortable as possible as you found yourself settling into a new routine.
You crept out of your room, listening intently to see if you were alone in the bunker, or if the other occupants were still there. Most of your angelic powers had returned to you in your time of recuperation, the ability to sense other living souls being one of them. You were able to quickly come to the conclusion that Sam was out of the bunker, probably off on a supply run, leaving you alone in the confined space with Dean.
Oh, Dean. How could you describe the elder Winchester? You happened to bond instantly with Sam, and you think it’s due to the fact that you were able to sympathize with him. Dean, however, was cold. Unattached. He refused to show you the same affection that his brother showed you, and you couldn’t figure out why. You had lived among humans for thousands of years, you knew humans; why they acted the way they acted, but yet, you could not read Dean. He was… different from any other human you had ever met, and it frustrated you. You could read Sam, to you, he was an open book. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and his soul practically screamed at you, but not Dean. Dean always gave you the cold shoulder. Sam tried to explain to you that’s just how Dean was. He was cold to strangers, and that’s exactly what you were; a stranger.
You tried to get Dean to warm up to you by doing things most humans liked. (You had been on Earth for thousands of years, you knew humans inside and out.) You figured out what Dean liked and tried to bond with him with his interests, but nothing ever worked. Dean remained cold towards you, and all your efforts to get him to open up to you failed.
You sighed to yourself as you quietly closed your bedroom door behind you and padded down to the nearest bathroom, which so happened to be the bathroom adjacent to Dean’s bedroom. You knew he was in his room, but the soft hum of music playing over his speakers gave you a sense of comfort, knowing he won’t hear you wandering about and pay you no mind. You slipped into the bathroom and shut the door tightly behind you, making sure to flick the lock shut.
You took a deep breath and turned to the vanity, your eyes glued to the tiled floor, afraid to look into your reflection. You let out your breath and braced yourself on the edge of the sink, and slowly, your gaze inched up until you were staring into the mirror.
Your eyes met themselves in the bathroom mirror, your knuckles turning white from your grip against the porcelain sink as you stared deep into your vessel’s being. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you finally willed your wings to fold out, taking up most of the bathroom. When your eyes opened again, you almost threw up at the sight that greeted you. Thankfully, any open wound was now closed up, but they left behind hideous scars, killing any feathers in their destructive path. You watched with tears in your eyes as three blood-stained feathers broke from your wings and slowly drifted to the white tile floor below your feel. You choked back a sob at the sight of your once glorious wings, now broken and damaged beyond repair.
You didn’t hear Dean knocking on the door, a worried expression on his face after hearing estrangeled noises coming from the bathroom adjacent from his bedroom. His fists banged louder on the door, and you barely had time to register what was happening before the door was kicked open, a gun held tightly in Dean’s hands, in case the situation he was barging into required one. You paid him no mind as he immediately lowered his gun and concealed it once he registered what was happening.
You finally broke away from your reflection in the mirror and looked into Dean’s eyes, an awkwardness settling over the two of you. You quickly wiped your face of any tears and folding your wings back in, clearing your throat, an awkwardness rising in the room.
“Sorry to have bothered you,” you mumbled, making way to push past Dean, but a light grip on your upper arm stopped you in your tracks. You looked straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with the man.
“[Y/N], stop,” he whispered gently, afraid that speaking to loud or harshly will cause you to flee, as if you were a rabbit. “I know you’re in pain, be it physically or mentally. Let me help. How can I help?”
You shook your head, arm still held softly in Dean’s grip. “You can’t. I can’t,” you responded, your voice cracking at the end of your sentence. “I can’t heal myself. My wings. They’re…” your voice trailed off, eyes screwing shut tightly.
“Let me look at them, let me see if I can do anything,” Dean pressed, still speaking gentle.
You ripped your arm from his grip, holding it tight to your side. “You can’t,” you sneered. “There’s nothing you can do. Just leave me alone.”
You fled from the bathroom, leaving Dean standing there, his arm still held in the position it had been where it was previously grabbing you. He heard your door shut with a slam, flinching at the echoing noise.
You winced as the door shut, barricading you from the man on the outside. You slid down the door, unable to stop the tears that pooled over your eyes, falling freely down your face. Instinctively, your ratted wings unfolded from your back, gently wrapping around your body, shielding you from the outside world.
—
“You’re saying she just snapped at you?”
Dean groaned into his hands for the fifteenth time in the past minute. “Yes, Cas, she snapped at me!”
“And you did nothing to provoke her?” he asked, an accusing tone in his voice. Dean shot the angel an annoyed look.
“No, Cas. All I asked her was how I could help her get better, and she snapped and locked herself in her room,” he explained.
Castiel sighed, sinking into the chair parallel to Dean. “I don’t know how to help her, either,” the angel admitted, a forlorn look overtaking his features. “She’s been gone for so long, I barely even remember a time where she was in Heaven.”
“Maybe we can’t help her,” Dean sighed, looking to his friend. “I know you want to— I know you feel like you have to do something, but sometimes, things are just too broken to fix.”
“Would you give up on Sam?” Castiel asked. He knew the answer before the question even crossed his mind. “I can’t give up on her. She’s a good angel, and she would do it for me.”
“Would she?” Dean argued. “You just said that you couldn’t even remember her. I’m sure she hasn’t thought of you, or Heaven, in hundreds, hell, even thousands, of years.”
Castiel wanted to fight back, he wanted to argue and stick up for his sister, but he knew Dean was right. If the roles were reversed, and she heard his distress call, would she come?
Dean stood up from his chair and walked around to the back of Castiel. He gently patted his shoulder in reassurance before leaving the library, and Castiel, alone with his thoughts.
—
Another week had passed since your outburst at Dean, and you had not left your room since that night. You knew that you should not have snapped at him, that he was only trying to help, but you felt so weak and helpless. You needed to apologize to him, whether he wanted to hear it or not.
So that’s why you stood outside of Dean’s bedroom door at three o’clock in the morning, hand hovering over his doorknob, shaking slightly. Rip off the bandaid, [Y/N]. Stop being a baby and apologize.
“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself, and opened the door to Dean’s room, shutting the door loudly behind you. Dean jumped up in surprise at the sudden loudness in his room, letting out a noise of shock at the intrusion. As he was about to reach for his gun under his pillow, he saw it was only you, and his racing heartbeat began to settle.
“[Y/N]...” he trailed off, “what can I do for you at,” he glanced at the clock on his nightstand, “three o’clock in the morning?” He rubbed his face, wiping the tiredness away from his eyes as he sat up, back resting against the headboard.
“I’m sorry,” you spoke, voice velvety and calm. “It was wrong of me to lash out at you like that. You— and Sam— have been very kind to let me stay here these past few months while my vessel heals, and I had no right to yell at you that way I did the other night.” You began rambling, nervously playing with your hands. “You have every right to kick me out of the bunker if you want, I probably deserve it I—”
“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean cut you off, getting out of bed to stand across from you, close enough where he can grab your hands to get them to stop moving. “Who said anything about you leaving?”
“You did,” you said softly, “the other day when you were talking to Castiel. You said I can’t be fixed.”
Dean frowned. You weren’t supposed to hear that. Before he could defend himself, you were talking again.
“You’re right, maybe I am beyond fixing. Whatever the case may be, you and Sam, hell, even Castiel, you guys don’t need to take on the burden of having me in your home. I am a guest here, and I have no place to yell at you the way I did.”
“[Y/N]!” Dean exclaimed, his hands coming up to grip your shoulders, breaking you from your rant. “Please, just… listen to what I have to say before you start talking crazy like this,” he pleaded. You nodded your head, letting out a deep breath of air, and Dean dropped his hands from your shoulder. You frowned at the sudden loss of physical contact.
“You have every right to be upset, [Y/N]. You went through something that me or Sam will never experience in our lives. I can’t tell you how you should and should not feel because I don’t know what it feels like you have that part of you ripped and torn up the way that demon tortured you.”
You nodded your head, eyes falling to the ground, trained on your sock-clad feet.
“Still, all you wanted to do was help. I shouldn't have yelled at you for being nice.”
Dean just smiled at you— the sight of you looking bashful, eyes trained to the ground with a small blush glowing across your face. “Maybe…” he whispered, “maybe I can help you out now, if you want.”
You looked back up to the man, your blush growing deeper. “Are you sure?”
Dean nodded his head. “Positive.”
You let out a breath you didn’t you you inhaled, and slowly, your wings unfolded, a dim golden light glowing softly in the darkness of Dean’s bedroom. You heard him suck in a deep breath at the sight of your wings.
“How come they’re not getting better?” he asked, walking around you to stare at the back of them.
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “They’ve never been damaged like this before. I’ve never been foolish enough to let anything, much less a goddamn demon, get the best of me like this.” Your blood began to boil at your incompetence, but a gentle touch to your left wing made the anger melt away. You sighed at the sudden feeling of contact to the wing, shocked at your own reaction.
“You know, it’s funny, hearing an Angel saying the Lord’s name in vain,” Dean chuckled as his hand ran down your wing, right to where your skin turns to feathers. You were too caught up in the euphoric feeling of his calloused hands massaging your wings to snark back a response.
“Hey, I think I know what the problem is!” Dean exclaimed suddenly. Before he gave you a chance to react, you felt a sharp pain where his hands once were. You gasped in shock, the action too sudden for you to make any other noise. Once the initial shock faded away, all the pain you felt in your wings these past months melted away instantly. When Dean came back into your line of focus, you saw a small black blade in his hand, blood staining the handle.
Instantly, the dead feathers began falling from your wings, new ones growing in their place. The jagged scars disappeared completely, and the dried blood left on each of your feathers vanished. The golden light in the room grew brighter, and your wings stretched out further, curling slightly towards the man standing in front of you.
Without thinking, you lunged forward, arms wrapping tightly around Dean. You didn’t care when you felt Dean stiffen under your embrace, too caught up in the fact that you were finally healed to pay any mind to the awkwardness that will follow once you two broke apart.
Just as you were about to pull away, Dean’s arms came up to wrap around your frame, and you sighed in content. Your wings curled inward, shielding you and Dean from the outside world.
“Thank you,” you whispered, your cheek resting against Dean’s chest.
Dean said nothing in response, but gave you another quick squeeze before letting go of your body, you doing the same.
Dean cleared his throat, trying to dilute the tension in the air, and you just smiled at him, your wings folding back into your body. “So, now that you’re healed, I guess this is goodbye.”
You smiled softly at the man in front of you, and for the first time in months, you are finally able to read him. He yearns affection, and once he receives it, he never wants to let it go. Neglected as a child, everyone he loves dead (or has died and has been brought back at some point), he doesn’t get the affection he craves.
“Well, I was thinking on waiting until morning to leave, if that’s alright with you?”
Dean tried not to show it, but a slither of a smile peaked through his poker face. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat, willing his voice to get lower. “Yeah, that’s okay with me. I’ll uh, I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Actually,” you whispered, inching closer to him, “it’s such a long way back to my room, and I’m really tired.” Wrong, your room was right down the hall, and you don’t sleep. “Maybe, I could just crash here?”
Dean scoffed, seeing right through your tale, but stepped out of your way, his bed coming into your line of sight. You smiled sweetly up at him and made your way under his covers, getting all comfortable, before turning back to Dean, who looked as pale as a ghost.
“Well, you comin’ or what?” you asked, batting your eyelashes.
Dean only gruffed in response, but slid into his bed next to you, lying flat on his back.
“C’mon Dean, you act like this to every girl lying in your bed?” you teased, turing on your side to face him. He scoffed at you, but remained motionless otherwise.
“Only when there’s an angel that’s older than time itself inhabiting that girl’s body,” he bit back. You rolled your eyes at him and held back a reply. Instead, in one swift motion, Dean was underneath you as you straddled his abdomen, hands resting firmly against his chest.
“Wanna try that again?” you retorted, a smirk evident on your face. Dean’s eyes grew as wide as the moon once he processed what you had just done.
“[Y/N],” he gulped, his voice barely above a whisper.
“What,” you smirked, staring directly into his eyes. In a boost of cockiness, you let your grace flow through your body and shine through your eyes, your once [Y/E/C] eyes now shining a luminous gold, the same color as your wings.
“Easy there, tiger,” Dean said, finally regaining his confidence, his hands coming up to caress the smooth skin of your thighs. Your eyes returned to their original color and your cocky smirk faded into a gentle smile. You slid off of Dean and returned to your position on the bed next to him, and Dean turned his body to face you.
“[Y/N]—” you cut him off before he could finish what he was saying, as you knew exactly what he was going to say.
“Shh, sleep Dean. We’ll talk in the morning,” you promised him, snuggling up tightly in his embrace. Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around you, as if he was afraid of you disappearing right between his fingers. When he finally drifted off into a deep sleep, you placed a hand to his forehead, making sure his dreams tonight were nothing but good memories. Your eyes fluttered shut and you lulled into a slumber yourself, the soft snores coming from Dean music to your ears.
—
“[Y/N], it was good seeing you again,” Castiel smiled, pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back twice as hard before pulling away from him.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Sam said has he pulled you into a hug next, squeezing you tightly.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you responded as you pulled away from him. You frowned at his appearance, noticing how sick he looked. The trials were taking a toll on not only his body, but his mind and soul as well. You place a hand to his forehead, a dull light illuminating from your palm as a warmth ran though his body.
“That ought to fix you right up.”
“Thank you,” he nodded, unable to express his gratitude.
“Be careful,” was all you responded with. “These trials, they’re going to change you Sam, in ways even I can’t even begin to imagine.”
Sam nodded his head at you and turned to Castiel, beckoning the angel to follow him out of the room, leaving you alone with Dean.
“Like Sam said,” he said curtly, “don’t be a stranger.”
You frowned at Dean, making no move to hug him like you did Castiel and Sam. “Dean,” you said, an underlying tone in your voice, begging him to look at you. When he refused, you called his name again, more urgently this time.
“Do you have to leave?”
You smiled sadly at him. “I’m an angel, Dean. I’ve been around longer than humans were even a thought in God’s mind. I can’t stay here, I just can’t.”
“I know,” he responded, trying to keep his voice level. “Just, drop in once in a while, would ya?”
“For you? Always.”
He pulled you into a tight hug and you recropricated tenfold, burying your head into his chest. When the two of you finally separated, you stood up on your toes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, a warm feeling coursed through your body and your heart fluttered in your chest.
“Goodbye, Dean.”
With a flutter of your wings, you were gone. Where you once stood and provided warmth, a cool breeze ran through the room and an unsettling chill ran down Dean’s spine.
