If Destiel were to happen, in canon, between right now (5.13) and Carry On. Read on AO3 Here.
There had always been something there. Everybody knew it, but they knew it in that tight little place in your heart that you know not to touch. Demons, angels, they could poke at it, sure. They knew to poke at it.
That profound bond.
Castiel knew from the beginning it was doomed. That was what called him to fall from grace, after all, that something that he saw in Dean. And he thought that would be how he felt about all of humanity, but after Heaven shut him out? It wasn’t. It wasn’t the same; there was something about Dean. But he didn’t know, he didn’t know what it was.
Dean didn’t even think about it. Castiel was just suddenly there, and then he was Cas. And something about him made Dean trust him, it just did. And he was right, after all, Cas proved him right in that heaven room. And of course he wanted Cas there, he was Cas.
Sam didn’t even think about it until... because Dean and Cas were always just closer than he and Cas, and it made sense. I mean, Cas had been there for Dean when Sam went all dark side, they had history Sam couldn’t ever manufacture with the angel. And Cas had saved their asses more than a few times, and... Cas was always gonna be there for them. He was ride or die, and Dean’s loyalty was exclusively ride or die, no matter how stupid or lost or monstrous that buddy was. It was his thing; after all, he’d grown up with Sam as a little brother.
But as they got older, Sam started to look at old couples in diner booths and get sad. He started to want that kind of thing, and it didn’t make sense to him how Dean just... didn’t. He used to, talked about that “apple pie” life with the kind of wistful bitterness that was transparently envy. But then:
“You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?“
“Have you not heard a single word Bob's been singing about? You're tired. I can tell. You're exhausted. Well, I'm still wired, so I'm gonna pull over, get some gas. You hop in the back, get some Z's 'cause, buddy, you earned 'em.”
It just didn’t make sense. It didn’t really seem like Dean was lying. Pushing him away, sure, but not lying. Dean didn’t need anything, anybody more, not anymore. But how could he be so content with being alone? Besides... family?
And then Sam realized, just a little bitterly, that Dean wasn’t alone, at least not in everyday life. In their little trio, it wasn’t three guys making it by themselves together. No, when it came to home life, it was Sam, and it was Dean and Cas.
Of course, it wasn’t like... Well, I mean, it wasn’t like Dean was...
Okay, so Sam had always known that Dean looked at guys a certain way, got nervous with guys a certain way that he was never comfortable talking about. So they never talked about it.
And then he thought about all the looks that went on just a second too long, and how quick to anger Dean was when it came to Cas, and how broken he was when Cas was gone.
And all of a sudden, Sam thinks that maybe, maybe Dean’s a little in love with Cas. And maybe he doesn’t even realize it.
“Hey, Dean?”
Dean looked up from his book disinterestedly. “Yeah, what’s up?”
Sam cleared his throat and sat at the foot of Dean’s bed. Gingerly. “Uh... I just wanted to, I mean.”
“Come on, spit it out Sammy, I don’t have all day.”
Sam frowned. “This morning, you said you were dedicating the day to, and I quote, “relaxurbation.”
Dean nodded seriously. “And I’m on a very tight schedule.” It got a laugh out of Sam, which was all Dean wanted, because conversations that started with Sam stuttering made him nervous.
“Okay, so, I don’t mean to, like, pry or anything. And I’m not even saying this is it so like... don’t freak out, okay?”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “You’re freaking me out right now!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Sam cleared his throat again. “Okay, you know how we grew up...” He could see Dean opening his mouth to make a snide comment. “Just shut up, dude! For once.”
Dean blinked, pausing, and spread out his hands. Go ahead. “Dad raised us rough and in a bunch of podunk, nothing towns around a bunch of hillbilly, old-fashioned hunters.”
“Like Bobby?” Dean asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, and like Travis.” Silence. He’d made his point. “Listen, all I’m saying is that we were raised around some pretty messed up stuff about being strong or whatever. About being a good man.”
“Okay, and?” Dean was squinting now, looking at Sam like he had no idea what he was saying.
Sam rolled his eyes. “And they weren’t right. I mean, they made fun of me for reading too much. The stuff they said about other people? About people that weren’t leather-wearing shotgun yielding hardasses? Some of them were just... bigots.”
“Sam, what the hell are you saying?” Dean was impatient again, but Sam’s heart sped up. Usually Dean got impatient when he was uncomfortable.
“I’m saying that it’s understandable, you know, for us to still feel some of that. But we don’t have to be like them, Dean.”
“Sammy, are you trying to tell me something?” Dean was leaning forward, hands on his knees.
“Yeah, man! I’m trying to say that I don’t think like them. I’m not- it doesn’t change anything for me if somebody’s, like, gay or something-”
Dean folded back up. “Oh, and you think it does for me? Jesus Sam, I may be a dick but I’m not an asshole.”
Sam put his face in his hands. This was coming out so wrong. “I’m saying, Dean, that looking at guys doesn’t make you any less of a man.” There was dead silence. Sam swallowed and looked up to see Dean staring at him angrily, but Sam could swear there was a little hint of fear in the way Dean was working his jaw.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking you’re seeing Sammy, but you’re way off base.” He got up and stormed away to his room without another word.
---------------------
Dean slammed his bedroom door with a bang that made even him jump. He stopped dead and breathed shakily, trying to sort through his thoughts. He was pissed, for one thing. That much he knew. He was also shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to picture that dock he loved to fish at, the one he dreamed about on his best nights. It always calmed him down.
Why the hell would Sam think that he was… what, gay? Dean laughed out loud to himself. He loved the ladies. He more than loved the ladies. Hell, he had dumped Sam at a bar plenty of times to spend some quality time in their hotel room with a hot girl. No way, Sam must’ve hit his head.
But he went over the conversation in his head again, all that stuff Sam had said about John’s buddies growing up. It was true, marine vets and hunters in the ‘80s and ‘90s were not the most open-minded crowd. They’d given Sam shit about his good grades and his hair, given Dean shit about his cheekbones for gods’ sake. That time he’d wanted to go to the prom, that time they’d caught him listening to Radio Speedwagon… okay, so they were assholes. Sure. And no, some of them hadn’t had the greatest things to say about Freddie Mercury or Rock Hudson or David Bowie… But that didn’t make him like them. He didn’t have crushes on guys like that…
Okay so he could admit that Fred from Scooby Doo was annoyingly perfect. And he had been a little obsessed with him as a kid. But that didn’t mean he wanted the guy.
And Rodney, that guy in sophomore year that he tutored in Latin for extra cash, the swimmer. He’d tried so hard to make him laugh, he had such a nice laugh. And arms. But it wasn’t like he’d ever done anything…
Lee was a one-time thing. Dean was lonely and on an adrenaline rush from his first case without John, and they got drunk. It just happened. And they’d woken up to John banging on the door and even after they had all their clothes on, they still got chewed out for being drunk. And he and Lee, well, he never let it happen again. And after the cult thing, after the bloodbath in Arizona… Dean had been shitty. He had been mean and dismissive and told Lee to fuck off, that I was drunk, man, and he didn’t see Lee again until he had to kill him.
But that didn’t make him gay.
He hadn’t done stuff with a guy since. Maybe he’d looked at them. Maybe he’d gotten blushy and tongue-tied a couple of times around a couple of detectives, but he was naturally awkward sometimes. And plenty of straight dudes watched gay porn.
Dean laughed and felt a tear slide down his face, and he stopped it up tight. Okay, fine. So Sam was right. Maybe he liked guys. In a way adjacent to the way he liked girls.
Maybe that made him bi.
-------
“Sam.” It came out stern and rough and too loud, and Dean cleared his throat. Sam was making himself breakfast, so Dean leaned up against the counter and waited until he looked up from his eggs.
“Look, I’m… I’m sorry. For the other night. Um…” He cleared his throat again. “Look, you were just trying to get me to ‘introspect’ or whatever, and I don’t really…”
“Deal with that well?” Sam smiled softly and Dean laughed nervously, looking down. He looked back up and caught Sam’s eye. Sam knew, he got it. And he knew what Dean was trying to say. Dean nodded and cleared his throat again.
“Thanks. Okay, enough of that talk for a lifetime!” he said cheerily. He started to practically run from the room but paused at the doorway and shouted. “Chicks are still hot though!”
Sam laughed. “Never doubted that, Dean. Nobody could fake your kind of enthusiasm.”
Dean grinned and winked, and then he left the room.
He was out.
----------------
Sam talked to Cas next. For all the saving the world and working against God they were doing, they had a lot of down time. Cas was studying a lore book in the library while Jack and Dean watched a full season of “River Monsters” for an “educational break from the world destruction shit.”
“Hey Cas, can I ask you a question?” He sat down across from Cas and leaned across the table. This was going to be so much easier than the conversation with Dean. And he really needed to know if… well, if he was right. If there was a chance that, after all this, Dean could be happy with somebody who understood the life, like he wanted to be. That is, if they all survived.
“Of course, Sam, what is it?” Cas was as earnest as ever. He smiled. Dean’s constant gruffness could be good with that earnestness. Was already good with it.
“Angel… society, I guess. How does that work?”
Cas tilted his head, confusion and a hint of snark behind his words. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Sam. Angels have lived for millennia spread across the entire universe.”
“Yeah, okay.” Sam sighed. Maybe this wouldn’t be that much easier. “Like, I know you said angels don’t have gender or anything, but… do you have sexuality? Love? Those kinds of… things?” Fuck, was he being too obvious? Dean would kill him. Chuck would actually get his perfect ending.
Cas was pondering. “Well, I suppose it changes in degree for every angel, as it does with humans. But, yes, we have emotions not unlike humans. Without them, I would never have fallen in the first place.”
Sam sucked in a breath. “Right, like, you, um, you saw Dean and…”
Cas nodded. “Once I saw what heaven was doing to Dean and you, I started to have doubts. I started to feel… for humans. And well, Dean pushed me into making the right decision. He got me angry enough.” Cas smiled at the memory.
“Yeah, uh, he’s pretty good at that.” Sam cleared his throat. “So, you have emotions, can you fall in love?”
“I don’t know.” Cas looked at Sam’s perplexed face and tried to explain. “I can feel connection, I can feel loyalty, I can feel… desire…” Sam was un com fort able again, why did he decide to do this? “But whether that amounts to human love, I don’t know. I never had the chance to fall in love as a human; I too heavily relied on you and Dean to feel at all comfortable.”
“I mean, that sounds like love to me. All of that and… knowing that if you lost them, it would hurt something awful. That you’d do anything in the world to save them from any pain.” Sam was back on Eilleen again, he couldn’t shake her.
Cas was silent for a moment until Sam came out of his thoughts and motioned for him to continue. “As for sexuality, angels do not have what humans define as gay or straight or anything else. We see souls as much as vessels. Gender is inconsequential.”
“Right, yeah, I imagine it’s hard to be gay when you don’t have genders in the first place.” Sam laughed, but Cas stayed silent. Apparently he didn’t see any humor in it. “Well, uh, have you ever thought about… I mean, do you ever want to settle down or something?”
God, was he asking him for his intentions or something? Sam could not believe his clumsiness. It all sounded better in his head.
“Sam, I’ve been alive for millenia and will live for many more, if Chuck doesn’t destroy the world. If I were to find a mate or any such thing, I would have to see them age and die and live on. Is that something you would want in my shoes? Is it something anyone would want to be involved with?” Cas was almost… bitter. But more, he just seemed tired. And sad.
“I’m sorry, Cas. I never thought of it that way.” Sam started to stand, to leave him alone, but he paused. “For the record, though, yes, it is something I would want. We all have to lose people we love someday, but it’s pointless if you use that as an excuse. Sounds like something Dean would say.” He sighed and left Cas sitting alone with his thoughts.
-----------
Cas was… he was pensive. Sam’s question’s replayed in his head, that last comment on repeat the most. Love and desire and loyalty and pain, that is what characterized love. He mulled it over. So many years had been wasted on heavenly wars, following orders without question and executing “the will of God” without doubt. Really, the only time he started to feel emotions that made him really… ache… well, it was with Dean.
Dean was the first human he’d ever met to treat him like he was… human. Dean was the first person he ever stepped in for, ever betrayed orders to try to protect. Dean was the first human to make him double over with laughter. Dean was still the only person who would go to the ends of the universe for him; he’d shown it time and time again.
But behind all the big stuff, Cas really started to think. He thought, at first, that his heart was speeding up from excitement, from the danger, that looking at Dean was just the alarm bells that would set off his fall. But they’d never stopped.
They had a profound bond.
It was possible, then, after all this time, that Megatron had been right. Castiel was in love, with humanity in general no, but with one man, yes. The one man he’d given up everything for. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe after Chuck was defeated, there would be time for love.
He remembered his deal with The Empty. If he was happy, truly, then he would die. But hadn’t Castiel risked that for Dean many times before?
---------
Dean’s first steps into intentional bisexuality included lots of porn and even more stuttering. He went out to a gay bar, the only one in 100 miles that he could tell, and bumped into every table his shaky legs could find. He spilled drinks and messed up pick up lines he’d used for years. His face saved him. He made out with a few guys, got pushed up against walls in the alley and discovered not only butts were butts, but mouths were mouths. Universally.
He never went any further.
He was far from a virgin, but, after so many years, Dean was scared. Ass hanging out in the wind scared. And he was not about to admit that to anybody, which meant he was not about to get in any kind of situation that he would freak in. So no sex.
So after a while, Dean laid off on the investigation and just… let it be. He started driving around in Baby a lot, parking in the middle of nowhere to think, trying to get comfortable with new and improved him. One night he accidentally did that until about 3 in the morning.
Dean drove back to the bunker that night, dazed and confused, if you will, by his feelings. He parked Baby in the garage and went around the long way, still trying to parse out why the hell he was so hung up on the idea of fucking a guy.
Castiel was waiting up for him. He sat in the library, holding a glass of whiskey that he’d obviously not touched. “Cas, buddy,” Dean yawned and stretched, walking over to him. “What are you doing out here?”
Cas shrugged. “I guess I was just making sure you got home. I mean, were alright. I didn’t know where you were.”
“You tell me everywhere you’re going?” Dean winced inwardly at how harsh that sounded. His gut reaction was still defensiveness; he wasn’t ready to tell Cas about any of this. He took the glass out of Cas’s hand and downed the whiskey; maybe that would soften his edges a bit.
“I was just worried.”
“Cas, phones, for the millionth time, phones exist. Pretty sure you were there when they were invented.”
Cas pursed his lips, annoyed. “Well excuse me for caring about you, Dean. I was under the impression that that was what we did around here.” He tried to stand up but Dean waved an arm at him that forced him to sit again.
“Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I’ve just been… working a few things out. Going on drives. Um…” Dean trailed off. Cas had tugged at his tie to loosen it; he got fidgety when he was annoyed. And that made Dean feel something that he was just learning to recognize. Cas looked up at him, confused at his sudden silence, and then they were just looking. At each other. Like they had so many times before. Except this time Dean knew exactly what he was feeling and it scared the fuck out of him. And Cas knew exactly what he was feeling, and it scared the fuck out of him.
“Okay, I’m, uh, I’m hitting the sack. You coming?” Dean started to stand up and almost choked on his own breath. “I mean, you going to your room, because it’s too creepy to think of you just sitting out in the dark like this all night.”
“Yes. I guess I am.” Cas said softly. Whatever made Dean happy. Even when he was being a dick.
--------
SAD ENDING:
They were ready. Well, not ready, but as ready as they ever would be. Chuck was waiting, he knew they were coming, and Team Free Will 2.0 had all the weapons they could muster. And yet they still geared up like it was a normal hunt. Sam was packing snacks, for fuck’s sake.
Dean walked the halls nervously, tapping on the wall by Jack’s open door. “Hey kid, you doing alright?”
Jack looked up at him, apprehension written all over his face. “When am I not ready to kill my grandparents, the two oldest cosmic beings, in a final hail Mary to save the entire universe and everyone I love?”
Dean chuckled as much as he could given the truth of the statement. “Hey, we’ve all got your back, kid. And if we go down, we’ll go down swinging. Together. ”
Jack nodded and Dean backed off, rounding the corner to Cas’s room. “Cas.” he said it softly, but Cas still startled and turned around. Dean held up his hands in surrender. “Just, uh, checking in, I guess.” Cas hesitated a second and nodded silently. “Did you ever think we’d get here, when you first chunked me out of hell?”
Cas smiled softly. Somehow, through everything, that time in hell had almost become a fond memory. “No, Dean, I can honestly say I never thought I would be here, with you, about to attempt to kill God. Chuck.” There was that bitterness that made Dean a little sad, made him remember how much Castiel believed in God in the beginning.
“Yeah, well, I guess this is it then.”
He looked at Cas and suddenly realized how close they were standing. His eyes searched Cas’s, and they looked at each other for too long of a beat.
“Yes. It seems like it.”
Dean sighed. “Cas, I just wanna say, before we, you know,” he waved a hand around. “I just wanna say, dimes for donuts we don’t make it out of this alive, and-”
“Dean, you don’t need to.”
Dean blanched. Dean, for one, didn’t have any idea what the hell he’d been about to say, so how did Cas? “I just mean-”
“Hasn’t everything already been said? Everything we’ve been through, over all these years, hasn’t that said enough?”
Dean sighed and looked down with a sad smile. “Guess you’re right.” He’d always been a man of action more than words.
Dean gave an infinitesimal nod and Cas gave one back, decided, and they went to fight. Maybe someday there would be a time for words.
It was Sam’s fault, really. He’d dropped the whole “destiel” “deancas” thing after the novelty wore off, but when Castiel dropped in next, he couldn’t help himself. He made one joke, and now Dean had to be in this situation.
“They did a play-”
“A musical!”
“Yes, thank you, Sam.” Dean sent him a glare before looking back at Cas, who was waiting patiently, no idea that Dean’s palms were sweating. Just because it was awkward, that’s all. He didn’t want Cas to be weird about it. That’s all. “Basically, they had this wack version of Chuck’s books and-” He was gesticulating way too much with his hands, he looked like a crazy person. “Theyhadthisdumbideathatweweretogetherorsomething.”
Cas tilted his head, giving Dean that searching look that made him feel like he was being looked into. “Well, we are together, Dean.” He looked around,
Sam laughed, leaning in to interject. “Uh, he means, together together, Cas. As in, romantically.”
“Oh.”
Dean laughed nervously. “Yeah, they had this whole thing about, subtext. Anyway, Sam also sang a whole song about how great I am. That play was wild, man.” That actually seemed somewhat casual.
“Oh shut up, that was a duet and you know it, man.” Sam rolled his eyes and went upstairs, which left Dean, you know, in this situation.
Alone, with Cas. Sweating through his t-shirt. Having just told his best friend about the homoerotic connection that people thought they had. “Why are you so uncomfortable with that play, Dean?”
Dean ran a hand over his face. “Oh, it’s... it’s just weird, that’s all. I mean, you’re my best friend. Hell, my only friend. And I’m not... you know... gay.” Fuck everything, why was he defending himself? His face was beet red, he could feel it.
Cas, as always, seemed unbothered and unaware of Dean’s anguish. “I’m not a man, Dean.”
Dean blinked. “Yeah, well, but you’re still... I mean, you’re still wearing a dude.”
“And this is... unfavorable to you?”
Dean swore he and Sam had talked to Cas about human sexuality at some point, right? “No, it’s not... listen, it’s just that I like women. You know, to be with. Together.” He sounded like a twelve-year-old, too afraid to say fuck, or maybe love. Both words seemed strictly off-limits around Cas.
“But not men.”
“I...” Dean hesitated. Somehow, he hesitated. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before, not like he hadn’t eyed up a guy at a bar once or twice or a few more times. Did that make him... “Listen, Cas, it’s not important.”
Cas took a few steps toward Dean, who tried his best to not backpedal. Cas was just trying to get Dean to look him in the eyes. “Obviously it is, if you are so bothered by the idea.”
Dean scoffed. “Bothered that you think I like dudes?”
Cas shrugged. “The concept of gender which your society currently has is entirely limited, so I believe you would have to be more specific.” Cas looked at him levelly, and Dean wished Cas would shove him right back into hell.
“Okay, god, Cas, I’ll get specific. Yeah, you specifically, I guess.”
“Why does the attractiveness of my vessel bother you so much?”
“Man, I don’t care what you look like! I’m bothered because you stand too close to me and look at me for too long and go around talking about our ‘profound bond!’ Thinking about it, if I weren’t me, I’d probably think there was subtext too!”
“But we do share a profound bond. What is so terrible about what I do for you? And what is so terrible about this subtext you keep speaking of?”
Dean practically stopped breathing. “It’s just not like you’re head over heels for me, Cas.” he said quietly. “People get the wrong idea.”
Cas crinkled his eyebrows. “What idea is that?”
He was standing too close goddammit. “Fuck. That you have mushy gushy feelings for me, Cas, crap. That you wanna play house and go on picnic dates and- and kiss me and shit.” Dean was angry. He was angry that Cas was making him spell this humiliation out like this, just because he was too naive to know what love is.
“You’re uncomfortable if I would want that?”
Dean froze and finally looked Cas in the eye. Why did he say that like it wasn’t some big thing? Like he could want that. “Do you want that?”
Cas made a face like he was considering it. “The thought is not... unpleasant.”
Wow. Uh. Dean sputtered for a second, looking at Cas’s wide-eyed seriousness. He raised a shaking, sweaty hand up to Cas’s cheek and pulled him a little closer, really fucking slowly, probably due to the shaking.
Cas stopped him about an inch away from his nose. “I thought you don’t kiss men.”
Dean let out a short breath. It’s as if Cas was trying to make this as awkward as possible. He tried his best to sound confident. “There’s always a day to start. And, um, I thought you’re not a guy.” He leaned forward enough to kiss Cas, hoping his ridiculous nerves weren’t also affecting his kissing skills.
Dean actually just let a kiss be a kiss for once. Oh, don’t worry, he gave it quite a few seconds, how could he not when he was kissing Cas, but he pulled away before he could really sink into it. “Cas, is this okay?”
Cas smiled a soft little smile. “This is much better than okay.”
Dean and Y/N have an arrangement going, but one night, when Sam leaves them alone, Y/N thinks it might all be over.
You and Dean had happened with surprisingly little fuss. It had started with a easily recognizable and mutual crush that led to some steamy makeout sessions in the Impala when you visited the bunker.
After you started traveling around and hunting with them, the sessions had continued, with no apparent need for them to continue to anything further. Or maybe you had just never had the time, or privacy.
Then one night, you did.
“Dean, Y/N, I can’t sleep, I’m just going to go stake out the house.” Dean rolled out of his bed and groaned as he hit the floor, failing to catch himself before he landed on the dirty motel carpet.
“Alrigh’, lemme get my...” He pushed himself up and stopped, motioning with his hands.
“Pants?” you offered helpfully. Luckily, you were a bit more awake than Dean, and you’d already found your pants in the duffel bag beside your bed.
“Pants!” Dean pointed excitedly. “Thank you,”
Sam laughed lightly. “That’s okay, you guys. I can do this solo.” You furrowed your brows and started to protest, a shoe in hand, but Sam waved you off. “No, really. I’m pretty sure nothing’s going to happen tonight anyway, but if it does, I’ll call you.”
Dean sank back onto his bed. “You sure, Sammy?” he asked drearily. His voice sounded quite relieved. Sam nodded and patted him on the shoulder.
“I’m sure. Now go back to bed; you look like crap.” Sam cracked a grin as Dean flipped him off. He gave you a last wave and was out the door.
“So...” Dean trailed off suggestively. You let out a laugh, tugging your pants off and throwing them across the bed.
“I thought you were too tired for anything else tonight?”
Dean shrugged and gave you his best smirk. “I’m never too tired for you, babydoll.” You laughed again at his ridiculous remark, but straddled him in his boxers and t-shirt anyway.
You gave him a peck on the lips, saying lowly, “I cannot believe I’m still kissing you after you called me ‘babydoll’.” He grinned in response and pulled you closer, pulling you in for a long and languid kiss that left you breathless.
“Better?” You hummed in agreement against his lips. His hands slid up underneath your shirt and traveled lazily around your back as you kissed up his jaw. He moaned as you nibbled on his jaw and you could feel his hard on against your thigh. It was only then that you started to realize that you were alone for the whole night.
“Dean...” you whispered. You really didn’t want to have this conversation, not when making out with him was so fun, and definitely not now that you were pretty sure you had feelings for the guy. Dean only let out a soft moan in response though, thinking your comment was just letting off steam. “Dean.” you said again, more urgently.
“Hm? Yeah.” He realized you’d stopped kissing him now and opened his eyes, confused. “What’s up?” The way he said it made you smile, like he was asking about your findings on a monster. His hands settled on your hips, centered you so he could look you in the eyes.
“I um... I have to tell you something.” your words sounded a little weak and disconnected, and you suddenly realized how nervous you were. Over the years, you’d slowly grown a shield to protect yourself from the reactions to this conversation. Because chuck knows you’d had some bad ones. But the idea of Dean reacting like that, pulling away, felt unbearable to you.
“What is it, Y/N?”
You took a deep breath and spit it out. “I can’t do this. Not this, I mean,” you gestured down between the two of them. “But... I mean, more.”
Dean was so confused. You could tell by the expression on his face and the way he took his time to choose his words. “You mean, you don’t want to do this anymore?”
You shook your head, frustrated. “No, I like doing this. I like-” you were about to say you, but stopped yourself short. “I just, I don’t want to... have sex. It’s not you!” you added hurriedly to the wide-eyed look on Dean’s face. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone. I just, I don’t do that.”
Dean nodded, pulling his hands out from under your shirt. You started to panic a little at the loss of contact, feeling him retreating back from you already. But, there was no taking it back now. Dejected, you started to climb off his lap, but his put his hands on your thighs to stop you.
“Y/N. Wait. I just... didn’t know, okay? I didn’t mean to...” Now he was the one gesturing uselessly between them.
“Oh no, you didn’t do anything wrong, trust me. I would’ve stopped you.” You tilted your head in thought. “I mean, I did stop you. And I get if you don’t want to keep, I mean, of course you want someone who can-”
“Y/N, I want to keep doing this with you.” Dean looked directly in your eyes and placed his hands on your arms. “Not having sex is not a problem.”
Now you were the one who was confused. “It’s not?”
Dean smiled. “I can live without sex. And if it means having someone like you in my corner, I think it’s worth it.” He placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “And Y/N? While we’re um, telling each other stuff-” You snorted and he smacked you on the arm. “Shut up,” he grinned. “I’m trying to ask you out on a date, you asshole.”
You laughed and put a hand up to his cheek. “And I’m trying to say yes.”
Wincest Writing Challenge | May | @leahlisabeth vs @themonsterattheendofthisfic
Prompt: Demon!Dean
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 (i think it’s funny to rate it like a movie)
Summary: Dean has been running from the one thing that matters most for weeks, trying not to give in to his darkest temptation and deepest comfort. Whether Sam is his salvation or his damnation is up for debate. But it’s about time to find out.
Warnings: Really none except for slight incest, but everybody knew that was going to happen
Dean was enjoying the blissful perks of a life without morals. He was doing whatever he wanted to (and whoever he wanted to), whenever he wanted to. However, the one thing he could still feel missing, the one thing that ached inside his blackened soul and actually made him feel empty, was the one thing he had to keep running from.
Because he knew if his brother caught up to him, he’d never let him go.
And Dean couldn’t have that. Of all the people in the world that he could hurt, he would never let himself hurt his little brother. Not Sam, not after everything they’d been through, not when he was the only thing that mattered to Dean. He tried to make peace with the fact that he’d never see him again.
Failing miserably, he once again tried to drown his thoughts for Sam in booze.
“It might’ve worked to get our angel friend out of your mind, but the whiskey can’t quite drown out your baby brother, now can it?”
Crowley. God, how he hated Crowley.
“What do you want?” He growled at the insufferable man perched on the stool next to him.
“Well, I did want to howl at the moon. Take over hell. Rule the underworld. The usual. But as it seems that you have different ideas, I’m simply suggesting that you give into temptation.”
Dean paused, even allowing his hand to stop bringing the whiskey closer to his mouth as he contemplated Crowley’s reply. He knew about his feelings for Sam, of course he did. Say what you will about the man, but he wasn’t totally oblivious. “Why can I still… “
“Feel for him?”
Dean winced, and threw back the rest of his drink. “Yes.”
“Simple, bestie. Your affection for Moose… is the darkest thing about you.” Dean snarled. “I’m just telling the truth. Your baby brother… it’s awfully immoral, even for new and improved you.”
“Dean!”
“Sam…”
“Dean… why did you call me here? I… I don’t understand.” Sam looked around the dismal motel room, hand clutching the pistol tucked in his waistband out of instinct. His brother emerged from the bathroom, a wolfish grin on his face.
“Hey there, little brother.”
Sam relaxed at the familiar tone. He didn’t know what he expected, for his brother to suddenly spit fire? He went to him, running his hands over Dean’s arms, looking for any wounds, or perhaps just familiarizing himself with the feeling of Dean. As if he needed to. He dreamt of him every night. Dean flinched at the gentle contact, his eyes involuntarily flashing black.
“I’ve been following you for weeks. Dean, there’s a body left behind in every town you visit. They show all the signs of demon possession, but Dean… those demons possessed normal people. You killed them too.”
At this, Dean’s smile returned, slightly duller than before. “What can I say? When you gotta kill, you gotta kill.”
He leaned in, grabbing his brother by the hair and giving him a nudge toward his lips. Sam only resisted for a moment before giving in, the desire to have Dean overcoming the shock he had hearing his brother say those words. He eventually pulled away for air.
“What is this?” He motioned between them.
Dean grinned and began unbuttoning Sam’s shirt. “I think the kids would say this is a booty call, little brother.”
“A… “ Sam swallowed, watching Dean as he pulled off his and then his own flannel and moved to unbuttoning his jeans. “Dean… “
“Oh come on, Sam, you’re always so good. So good at school, so good at hunting, so good all the time!” He slowly slid Sam’s jeans down to his ankles, before slowly coming up to pull his undershirt over his head. Then he kissed Sam, deep and long. By the time he pulled away, Sam was panting. “Just this once, be bad with me.”
Sam closed his eyes in indecision just in time to miss Dean’s eyes flashing black once more. If he had, he might have been reminded of all of those darkly delicious nights with Ruby, all of those terribly satisfying nights. If he had seen those eyes, he might not have stayed the night. But something in his head still screamed that he could bring his brother back from the precipice, if he could just reach him. Maybe this would reach him. Or maybe it would just send him further over the edge.
Hey :) I absolutely love you blog! I don't know if requests are open, but if they are could I please request something? Please don't feel obliged to do it though. If possible, could you please write a fic where the readers depression and anxiety have gotten really bad and Sam and Dean have to help her? I know this is probably a dumb request, but I've recently been admitted to a rehab centre for my depression and anxiety and I would love a fic like this. Thank you so much for reading. Love u 💜💜
Hi! I'm so so sorry i didn't see this until now, but I'm absolutely going to start on your request, it's not stupid at all. :) I'm so happy for you that you're getting help, that's really awesome and such a brace step. Good for you. Okay, I promise I'm going to get this fic out for you asap
I got a little burnt out from SPN, but I took some time off and started rewatching it, and I'm ready to give it some old fashioned love. So send me some requests, reader inserts, ships, fic ideas, fic requests?
Hi can I have a ship? I'm 5'3 with blonde hair and green/grey eyes. I love doing makeup (special effects), aerial dance, and I also love sign language. I like reading (I honestly have more books than I do friends) and rock music but I also love soft stuff like Taylor swift and Adele every once in awhile. I'm just all around pretty nerdy (except for school I hate the system) and I've recently started trying to love and accept myself.
Hi, @falloutassbutt ship you with...
Sam Winchester found you curled in a corner, sobbing your eyes out. It hadn’t been a good day, to say the least. You’d woken up to your alarm going off two hours late, rushed to the studio panicking, spilled coffee down your shirt, and oh yeah, ran into a fucking Minotaur in the basement!
So yeah, you’d done the thing most people would do and you got the hell out of there and then broke down into tears. And were rescued by a giant beautiful man with great hair and big guns. And not just his shotgun.
“So you’re telling me all of this- this- monster stuff, that we got told as kids- that’s true?”
Sam nodded reassuringly, his eyes having not left you since he took you out of your dance studio. “I know it’s hard to believe.” he said, squeezing your hand that was hugging your arm to your body.
You shook your head, hoping he wouldn’t take his hand away. He didn’t. “Sam, I just saw an ancient mythological bull-headed man rip a row of pink tutus to shreds on his way to me. I think I’m a believer.” He grinned. His smile was beautiful. You wanted to make him do it again.
“Sam! And, uh...” Dean had popped his head into the room and was looking at you questioningly.
“Y/N.”
“Y/N, right, um, I’m going to go- do some surveillance. You guys- have fun?” He grinned at Sam, winked at you, and backed out of the door.
You glanced nervously at Sam. “So... tell me about yourself?”
There was a lot of avoidance at first. A lot of Sam making generalizations, a lot of you skipping over the parts that you didn’t like, but as the case went on, your talks got longer and the censoring more lenient.
He told you about his doubts: about himself, about the world, about the good that he was doing. You shared some of those doubts. He assured you of what you were thinking of him, that it was bordering on criminal that such a wonderful person could have such large doubts that they were, well, any good at all.
And you talked about your schooling, how giving people percents gave meaningless numbers so much power over your lives. (Honestly, you’d never talked to someone so intelligent and articulate in stating his problems with the modern setup of the educational system. Swoonworthy? Definitely.)
You showed him your knack for stage makeup. (”Oh my god, Y/N! As someone who has seen his fair share of battle wounds, that’s scarily accurate.”) And then he’d laughed. And you’d thought again about how you were the reason for that laugh. And how much you loved that you could make him smile and laugh and how you wanted to smile and laugh with him for a lot longer than this case. And then he kissed you.
You’d been with the Winchesters for a little over a year now. It was a process, you’d learned, always a process with them. Always moving forward, improving, moving on. And you’d tried to apply that to your mind as well as your body. Tried to leave behind the insecurities and doubts sometimes magnified by having the responsibility of saving someone’s life in your hands. But you always knew that Sam would be there, that Sam was there. That Sam was going on that journey with you. And he always would be.
Can I get a supernatural ship my name is Alex I'm 5'5 and have green eyes and medium brown hair and freckles I love classic rock and I'm a dancer. I'm super blunt and cuss way more than the normal person should I guess my style is cropped tops and ripped jeans don't rlly know and adjective maybe edgy and most of my friends say I have a I don't give a fuck attitude😂 and I love to read and super sassy
Hi @alexstarnes1701, I ship you with...
You met Cas with a cuss and a kiss.
He hadn’t been on earth for too long when you first saw that blue-eyed baby. When he literally appeared right in front of you. You swore up a storm (I believe it was something along the lines of “Shit oh my god motherfucker”) to which he replied something like “I don’t believe my father has had intercourse with your mother.”
It was the first of a lot of “What the fuck” moments with Cas.
Looking at the two of you, you’d never have paired you for a couple. A seemingly straight-laced, suit-and-tie (and trenchcoat) guy, with your punkish ripped jeans and grunge inspired outfits? No way.
But it worked. And oh god, you fell hard for that angel. At first it was curiosity mixed with a little fear; he was still pretty badass angel when you met him and honestly? Angels? Being real? How could you just walk away from the person who introduced you to that life.
So you prayed to him. And he came. Sometimes right away, sometimes not for months, every time in varying degrees of torn apart. Your angel patched himself up as he listened to the familiar rock and roll playing in the background, a small smile on his face as he told you about the Winchesters and their world. They sounded pretty cool, despite shitty circumstances. You tried to insert yourself into that part of his life, but no matter what, he wouldn’t let you. He wanted to keep you safe, he said. You told him that was bullshit.
But you couldn’t do anything. So you found yourself in a long distance relationship with an angel of the lord, doing a lot more sinning than you’d ever expected, a lot more worrying than you’d ever wanted, and a lot more talking than you’d ever thought was possible. You introduced him to books and he introduced you to galaxies; you introduced him to dance and he introduced you to the Winchesters.
Sam always teased that it was a bit suspicious that Cas managed to find the closest female match to Dean on the planet that he’d ever seen. And it was true; for all the denial Cas did, you and Dean were basically the same person. For better or for worse. And they both became your best friends. They also both became spectators to Cas and your romance.
You and Cas never said “I love you”. Those words were meaningless, you’d both decided. Instead you showed each other. A healing hand on your forehead when you had the flu was just as loving as a bubble-bath fuck after a long hunt. A whispered, teasing recitation of “Jerk” “Bitch” felt more real than an “I do”. Your constant outrageous flirting offset by his occasional, shockingly dirty whispers were proof enough that you were perfect for each other. You always joked that if anything ever happened to you, you could just switch teams and go for Dean. As if you’d give up your angel that easily.
Can I please have a ship? My name is Payton, I'm 5'3", blue hair and blue eyes, and I'm chubby/fat. When I first meet people I'm a little shy but after a while I'm kinda outgoing and really sarcastic. I love animals and sometimes like to draw. And I like dark/creepy things but also cute/girly things.
@alpha-pac, I ship you with...
“Dean Winchester, there is no way that I am not going to pet that dog!”
He sighed, the one that made you grin because you knew he was going to do what you wanted. Then he allowed you to pull him across the street, away from the police line and toward the labradoodle that was currently begging you to come pet it.
After you’d given it sufficient love (and Dean had given it a begrudging pat on the head) that you allowed him to tug you away from the dog and its owner. “Have a nice day!” He said in his classic, charming FBI agent voice.
“What was that for?”
Dean chuckled. “That guy looked like he needed to go.” He answered. You looked at him suspiciously, lips pursed and eyes squinted.
“Yeah right, Winchester. Admit it, you just wanted to get in to see the body.”
He held up his hands. “You got me. I’m a sucker for a good crime scene.”
You grinned and kissed him on the cheek. “Lead the way to the blood and gore, Mr. Suit.”
Dean stared down at you a moment. “I will never understand how you go from puppies to murder in two seconds flat.”
You nudged him with your shoulder. “Says the guy who discusses disembowelments over pie.”
“Touché.”
Maybe that was why you and Dean worked so well. Your differences attracted you to each other; your similarities were what made it stick.
Even when you first met, Dean had instantly pulled you out of your shell. A simple “How’s it going?” in that deep Kansan drawl and a flash of those green eyes, and you forgot all self consciousness. He’d asked you out for pie, and how could you say no?
“Dean Winchester, how did I ever get a hunky piece of meat like you?” It was that night, Sam had graciously given you and Dean the night to spend alone in Baby. On a stakeout. That son of a bitch.
Dean glanced over at you, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to swallow the bite of his burger he’d just taken. “Through your superior wit and charm? Your hot bod?”
You laughed as a piece of lettuce flew out of his mouth. That was the Dean Winchester you knew and loved. “Oh my god, never say hot bod ever again,”
He grinned and finally swallowed, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips. He leaned further until you could feel his breath hot against your ear. A tingle went down your spine. “You have a hot bod,” he whispered.
hello! I was wondering if you could do a ship? I'm 5"8 or 5"9 (not completely sure I apologize) with long curly brown hair, and brown eyes. I love to draw, read, and write. and I'm really attached to music, I listen to every genre. I'll pretty much laugh at everything and I'm also very sarcastic. and I eat a lot :) some of that was probably irrelevant I apologize but thank you either way
@milkyblubber I ship you with...
You looked over at the man of your dreams. Bluish-greenish-brownish eyes blazing, shoulder muscles shining, lips parted in a labored pant, long hair flush against his face from sweat. A werewolf howled behind you. Okay, so you could think of better situations for all of those things about your boyfriend to be true, but you’d take what you could get.
And what you and Sam Winchester could always seem to get was a good midnight chase through the woods.
You both dove for cover in the hollowed out alcove the roots of a tree made, Sam wrapping his arms around you in an effort to both shield you and squeeze you both into as small a ball as possible. Ironically, the night ended in you two walking alone back from the sight where you’d salted and burned the guy for good measure. While Dean drove Baby back to your motel (”Werewolves of London” blasting), Sam had suggested a moonlit walk back.
“What brought on this impromptu walk down a deserted country road, Sam?” You asked, weaving your fingers through his. He smiled at you in that quiet way that always made you swoon.
“Do you remember the night we met?”
“Yeah, I was writing my final essay for American Lit.” Okay, so for that past hour it’d been less writing and more drawing a detailed recreation of the gorgeous man poring over a pile of books across from you. You were so concentrated on your doodle that you didn’t realize that the object of your concentration had gotten up.
“That’s really good.”
You just about jumped out of your chair, turning around to see the tall drink of water with a smug little smile. “Jesus Christ, don’t scare a girl like that.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. Sam.” A giant hand was offered, a giant hand was shaken. His gaze shifted over from your face to your research, his eyes lighting up as he saw your paper’s title.
“You were studying the same kind of folklore that was hunting your town. If that isn’t fate, then I don’t know what is.”
“I thought you met Fate. She seemed like a bitch.” He laughed, nodded his agreement.
“You make a fair point, Y/N. Just a lucky coincidence then.” He looked over at you. “I’ve never been so lucky.”
You blushed in spite of yourself, getting up on tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. “God, you really are sappy tonight, aren’t you?”
“Well, how couldn’t I be? It’s the anniversary of the day we met. And the day you almost died.”
You laughed, amazed that he’d remembered the date when even you hadn’t. “Sam, I’ve had so many days I almost died since meeting you, it’s almost easy to forget.”
Sam stopped walking for a moment, turning you toward him so that he could look in your eyes. “Almost.” God, you almost got lost in the look in his eyes and the sound of his whisper voice. Almost. “I remember walking you back to your dorm after everything, thinking I’d never see you again. I was so scared to let you go.” He voice was barely above a breath now, his lips close to yours.
“Sam Winchester, savior of the world, scared because of little old me?” You could never let a chance to be a little shit go by. Maybe that was why you and Dean got along so well. Or maybe it had something to do with your love of food. Off track. Back to Sam’s eyes.
“But I couldn’t let you go. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, won’t. And you-” He kissed you. “You ran away with me.”
I've been MIA for the past like month, and I'm sorry because I have requests that I still haven't done and a master list to make. I am still going to do both of those. Soon. I just got done with school so I should be good
It’s finally happening. The last part to Rock-a-Bye. (Unless I decide to do an epilogue). Thank you all for your support during this series. I’m really proud of it. And I hope this causes you pain. No offense.
I will put in links to the other parts soon.
Contains: Spoilers, sorry, but um, possible trigger warning, read the tags if you’re concerned and don’t care about spoilers
The next month went by swimmingly. It was like you were actually normal for once; you and Dean were happily planning for your kid, trying to decide on a name and the color of the room and whether you’d send him to private school. You’d even set aside a box for a college fund. The two of you were looking at a tract of land just to the left of the bunker and ten minutes away from a town with a great school district.
You were practically... respectable.
You, Sam, Cas, and Dean were lounging on the couch, watching Fight Club over again. Surprisingly, it was one of Cas’s favorite movies. He said it was because of the “excellent cinematography and acting” but you were pretty sure that he just liked it because it made the three of you happy whenever he quoted it.
A pillow was shoved between your back where you sat in the corner of the too-small,-definitely-not-made-for-four-grown-people couch. Your feet were propped up on Dean’s legs that were stretched between the couch and the coffee table. Sam and Cas were splayed out on the other side of Dean, Sam’s arm slung around Cas for no other reason than lack of space.
The four of you had your own bowls of popcorn (experience had kept you from thinking that sharing would ever work). It was a typical Friday night. You looked around the room contentedly, watching the lights of the television bounce the boys’ sharp features, the only other light that of the bunker’s red backups that were always on. Dean’s hand rested on your thigh protectively, his other hand greedily grabbing popcorn. The last month had been like a movie itself, a montage of perfect moments and little occurrences that only had only ever happened to you when you read about them. You should’ve known it was all too good to last.
The movie was over soon, after you’d all stopped what you were doing and looked at each other, grinning and whispering dramatically in a way you’d done a thousand times, “You met me at a very strange time in my life.”
You and Dean went back to Dean’s bedroom, what had become your shared bedroom. As Dean started to brush his teeth in the adjoining bathroom, you changed into pajama shorts and one of Dean’s Zeppelin shirts. Dean never seemed to tire of doing everyday domestic things like a nightly routine.
He strolled back to the bedroom toward you, pulling you into his arms with all the gentleness in the world. You laughed as he started kissing and nipping at your neck, trailing up your neck and along your chin. He sang quietly between kissing, Lorelei drifting softly up to your ears. “The way she moves, oh oh,” A kiss tickled the skin below your ear. “I gotta say,” Dean’s lips traveled up to the corner of your lips, and he pulled his face away just enough to look you in the eyes as he sang the next line. “Lorelei, let’s live together,”
“Brighter than the stars forever,” You joined in, but Dean pressed his lips against yours before you could finish the last word. In fact, words became pretty much impossible for the next couple minutes. You and Dean breathed together and kissed each other, you mouth opening to allow Dean’s tongue access. He steered you gently toward the edge of the bed, backing you up slowly as he hands trailed up and down your body. Your legs hit the bed, forcing you to sit down and then lay back as Dean guided you. His hands cupped your face, his tongue traced the inside of your mouth, his legs straddled your lap. You were vaguely aware of how happy you were in that moment.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a flash of light shine out from under the door. You refocused on Dean, your fingers trailing down his torso to start to tug the hem of his shirt off.
Something crashed in the other room. “Dean,” You murmured, concerned. He didn’t hear you. “Dean.”
This time he pulled away from you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What is it?”
Another crash, followed by a short shout that you recognized, a sickening feeling falling like a rock in the pit of your stomach. Dean was up and off you faster than you could think; you scrambled off the bed almost as fast, only ending up slower than him because of the awkwardness of your bump. Both you and Dean grabbed a gun from the night table where you kept them. Then you ran out into the library, silently praying it wouldn’t be what you thought.
Well, when had God ever answered your prayers?
A man stood in the center of the library, the central figure in the room because most everything was in disarray. Lamps were knocked off the tables, books flung from the shelves, an Enochian symbol smeared over one of the walls. Cas was gone, then.
Sam was heaving at the bottom of the other wall, his tall build pressed against the wall. “Sam!” Dean immediately ran to his brother, but was stopped from effectively examining his wounds by the mystery man.
“Oh, Dean,” he sing-sang, trailing a dagger along his own arm playfully. It drew blood, but the man didn’t seem to mind. Dean swung his head around in a rage, his head still covering a gash in Sam’s forehead. “Forget about me?”
Slam. Dean was on the other wall, slammed into the sigil with the force of a pickup truck. “Dean!” You didn’t run at him, just aimed your gun at the man who’d done it and shot. Bad for you, the gun you were holding was not the one with devil-trap carved bullets. Your ordinary bullet did nothing to the demon but make him mad. He flung you against the wall, next to Sam, the gun flying out of your hands and a couple feet away from Sam.
Sam reached for it. Mistake. The demon saw him and slid Sam across the floor, ignoring all the obstacles in the way and making Sam knock into chairs like a bowling ball knocks into pins.
“Silly, silly! That gun won’t hurt me, Sammy boy. It just leaves a dreadful mark on Tom the Accountant’s suit.” The demon laughed. He walked toward you, a black eye trailing all the way down your body, making a chill go down your spine. He leaned down a bit so that you were eye to eye, just staring at you with wicked glee. It was unnerving.
“What do you want?” Your teeth were gritted; his force-whatever was still pushing you to the wall like some kind of spinning carnival ride.
This time he smiled. A sickening grin split his face ear to ear. He tilted his head to the side, making sure he had your complete attention before he answered. “Simple. I am here to kill a Winchester.” He straightened up, turning around and walking leisurely back to where Sam and Dean were “sitting”. With a wave of his hand, the two were sent to the floor, pressed into the wood side by side.
“But which one to kill? When the options are so so good...” He stepped between Sam and Dean, putting a well-manicured finger to his lips like he was deciding between steak or lobster. Your stomach was twisting in knots as you tried pointlessly to get out of his hold. Your toes couldn’t even touch the floor, though they were so very close.
The demon was still pensive. Sam and Dean struggled, to no avail. They tried to mutter out an exorcism, but he shut them up before they could get close to finishing it and went back to thinking. Finally, you saw his expression change into an almost comical expression of epiphany and happiness. “Oh, novel! I’ve got it! Which Winchester am I going to kill?”
You held your breath, tears springing to your eyes as you watched two of the people you loved most in the world on the chopping block, wondering which of them would die.
The demon bent down between Sam and Dean, looking between them as they struggled. You saw him grin and raise his hand, poised to snap his fingers and end a life. His back blocked your view of Dean, and it made panic rise in your throat and threaten to choke you.
The demon said that one word that would change everything and snapped his fingers, gone in an instant.
Sam and Dean got up slowly, looking around, their confusion growing as they looked around. “Sam? You okay?”
Sam nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Um, what did he mean, kill John? Dad’s dead. I mean...”
Dean shook his head. “Dad’s definitely dead.”
“Okay, then what did he mean?”
“Dean...” You gasped, the sound coming out more as a exhale than a word.
“I don’t know man; fucking demons,-”
“Dean!” Your voice cut sharp and loud this time, instantly getting everyone’s attention. You folded yourself in half, hugging your stomach as it erupted in pain.
Dean was next to you in two bounds, Sam right behind him. Questions poured out of Dean’s panicked mouth, words that didn’t mean anything or expect to be answered, but the only thing that he could think to do. The man of action was frozen. “What’s going on? What’s wrong Y/N? Are you okay?”
Tears sprang to your eyes hearing his voice, the breaks in it that told you he knew exactly what was happening, what you didn’t want to think about. Because you knew what the demon had done, what he had taken.
Your head kept repeating the name over and over, the name you’d thought affectionately about after Dean had fallen asleep, the name you’d thought about when looking at that newly painted room, the name you’d been turning over and over in your mind, the name you’d been imagining yourself saying as you looked down at that little blue blanket wrapped hope, the name you hadn’t told Dean you were thinking about yet because it seemed to you like the obvious solution, the just-right puzzle piece that you’d been missing, and if you kept it close, it might come out all brand new and full of hope when you said it to your new baby, instead of full of regret or anger or pain like its namesake. All of those soft thoughts were split in half by the vicious pounding in your head and the searing pain in your stomach and the knowledge that that name would never be spoken with hope or joy like you’d imagined. And it killed you to ruin that, to taint all those beautiful thoughts with the word that was ripped from you as you were doubled over in the middle of a blood spattered bunker.
“John. The baby’s name was John.”
The car ride was a frantic one. Sam drove, Dean carrying you to the back of the Impala and sitting with you, half cradled in his lap. You don’t remember much from that ride except for Dean murmuring quietly to you through tears, stopping every so often to yell at Sam to go faster when he was already ignoring all posted speed limits.
The next thing you knew, you woke up in a hospital bed, Dean on one side of your bed, Sam and Cas on the other. Sam and Dean were both sleeping; a look at the clock on the table next to you told you it was just after 2 in the morning. “Cas,” Your mouth was impossibly dry. Cas stood up with a start, knocking his chair over and causing both of the Winchesters to wake up.
All of their faces showed relief, like you could see all the fear and worry melt off of their faces. Sam and Cas expressed how happy they were to see you awake and talking before leaving you and Dean alone.
Dean held one of your hands, his other rubbing over his face like he only did when he was at his worst. He tried to smile for you, put on a brave face. “So, um, John, huh? You never told me you that’s what you-”
Luckily, he was interrupted from his sad attempt at some kind of casual conversation by a doctor coming into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, but I talked to Sam and Cas in the hallway, and I wanted to see how you were doing for myself.” He smiled in a way that only doctors are trained to, a smile that conveyed professionalism and optimism along with a hint of condolence. “I’m Dr. Sharon, I’ve been overseeing your care.” He took a moment to step forward and shake your hand. Dean looked away.
“What... what happened, doc?” Like Dean, like you, you tried to put a friendly tone in your voice and failed miserably. Dr. Sharon looked down, his smile fading slightly but snapping right back into place when he looked back up at you.
“You lost a lot of blood. If you hadn’t gotten here when you had... well, you had a very good driver.” He looked at Dean with his professional conversational ease. Dean looked down and away, anywhere but toward the two other people in the room, jaw clenching to keep tears from escaping his eyes. “It is a miracle that you survived. You’ve got something looking out for you, that’s for sure.” Dean scoffed, a tear finally trailing down his cheek that didn’t match the bitterness in his eyes.
Dr. Sharon cleared his throat, his professional composure compromised for a moment when he realized his mistake. “Um. As I was saying, miscarriages this late in a pregnancy are unheard of; you suffered an enormous trauma. But you seem to be recovering very nicely. You should be well enough to go home in a week or so. I will, um, leave you two alone now.”
The door shut quietly behind him. “Miscarriage,” You whispered, the word sounding small and unreal coming out of your mouth. Dean’s hand squeezed yours tightly. There was nothing to say. There was nothing to say for a long time.
Thank you so much for 100 followers! I know it's not a lot compared to some other blogs, but 100 of you reading my writing means a lot to me, thank you so much :) In honor of this, I'm going to create a master list of my fics so it's easier to find what you're looking for!
Can I have a spn male ship? michelle I'm 5'3 18 I have green eyes, naturally long curly eyelashes thick dark eyebrows & wear glasses. My hair is brown & curly. I'm Colombian-American & speak fluent Spanish & english. I'm shy. I like rock music and books. Super protective over those i love. Always stand up for what i believe in and have strong values. Close to my family. I work at a school for people with disabilities. I want to go into the medical field as a career. thank you!
Michelle, I ship you with...
Sam!
“Alright, alright. Truth or dare?” Sam’s eyes sparked with amusement as he leaned in to kiss you, the alcohol on his breath obvious as he pecked you playfully on the nose.
You giggled at him, reaching over to grab the bottle of tequila you were both swigging out of, and let Sam hold the lime slice for you after you’d had your drink. “Truth.”
Sam’s eyes got that glint again. He squeezed your leg where his hand was resting, giving him a moment to think of a good question. His wolfish grin told you he had an idea even before he opened his mouth. “When did you fall in love with me?”
You smiled at that beautiful boy before responding. “Honey, to tell you that I’d have to go back to when we first met.”
He had you at hello. Or rather, “Hi, I’m Agent Howe. Would you mind answering a few questions?”
You let the cute agents into your house of course, keeping a subtle eye on the tall drink of water with the unbelievable dimples. You answered their questions, stayed polite and concise, even offered them beers, which they taken. The conversation eventually dropped off, and the agents got up to leave before you finally got up the guts to ask.
“Okay, I have to know. Agents Howe and Hart? Is that just the biggest coincidence ever, or does the Bureau have a great sense of humor?”
Sam had just looked at Dean smugly and said, “You know, I ask myself that all the time.”
Maybe that was the moment you fell for him.
That was without a doubt, the boys said later, when they decided they liked you. Dean, at least, was completely sold. Sam was too wrapped up in trying not to get a crush on you to say that your extensive knowledge was what sold him. He’d been sold since midway through your conversation.
He came back to your house that night with a bogus follow up question, which was not lost on you. You ended up on your back porch drinking and talking about everything under the sun. When it came to personal lives, you were the one talking for the most part (he wasn’t close with his family, apparently, and the Bureau wasn’t all it was cracked up to be). He’d taken some Spanish classes in college, and managed to stumble through some terribly pronounced basic conversations before he gave up, laughing.
Your talk about your career also sparked interest; he had a great respect for your job and you bonded over your mutual interest of saving people. You noticed something deeper in his eyes when he talked about that, like he’d seen too much, like the people saved hadn’t been enough. You found out later that was exactly the case.
Maybe that was the moment you fell for him. The moment you saw the deeper part of him beneath his gorgeous exterior. It was like looking into the ocean and seeing monsters and beauties alike, and realizing that that would be the most amazing thing you’d ever see.
Or maybe it was the first time you’d kissed. It was on that same porch, under the stars, when he’d suddenly looked at you like he did sometimes. Like all of the money in the world couldn’t make him look away from you. Like you were the most glorious thing in the world; how could anybody want to look at anything else?
It made you weak in the knees to think that Sam Winchester could look at you like that. You covered up your self-consciousness with a nervous punch to the middle of his chest, chuckling at bit when he just smiled and pulled you close. “Y/N, what did I ever do to deserve you?”
And he kissed you. Like it was nothing, like it was everything. His lips were soft and gentle and insistent that you see you how he did. You felt all of it, all of that simple adoration in that kiss. Maybe that was the moment. Or maybe that was the moment you realized he loved you.
“This moment.” Sam’s eyebrows crinkled with confusion. You held his eye contact for a moment, admiring the way the color of his eyes changed from blue to brown to black, almost forgetting what you were saying. “This moment. The moment after that, the moment after that. I fall in love with you every second of every day. Every new bit of information I find out about you makes me fall in love with you more.” Your words slurred and stumbled over each other, reminding you of Sam’s Spanish and making you laugh.
He grabbed onto your hand quickly, centering your eyes back on his before he started talking. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
You grinned, pulling Sam in for a kiss that felt just like the first time.
Supernatural Fanfiction @themonsterattheendofthisfic - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
