For @dakt37 who wanted a fic about deaged! sam and Jack. Not sure if the ending makes sense, so please tell me if it does
Jack looked down at the little boy who a few hours ago was the tall towering Sam that he knew, now he was 4-years-old and barely reached up to his knee. He could hardly believe that a boy still small would grow up to be the giant known as Sam Winchester.
“Hey, Sam” he said quietly, the same way Sam had spoken when they first met
“where’s D’n?” Sam whispered, not moving from where he was hiding behind a banister in the library
“he’s not here at the moment, but he’ll be back soon. He left me in charge” Jack responded patiently. Dean and Cas were currently out hunting the witch who had done this to Sam, but before he left Dean had made it clear that this version of Sam didn’t know about the hunting world yet, so Jack had to be careful with what he said
Sam peeked out his little head a little more and Jack had to bite down his tongue to stop himself from squealing. Dean wasn’t kidding, Sam was one heck of a cute kid. “who ‘r you?”
“my name’s Jack, and I’m a friend of your brother” Sam peeked out a little more before stepping out from behind the banister
“when D’n back?” it took a while for Jack to decipher the 4-year-old’s words, ‘it’s funny’ he thought, how much Sam had changed since he was four, but then he figured everyone was like this.
“he’ll be back soon, he told me to keep an eye on you”
“k. I’m hungree Jac’” Sam said and lifted his arms in the air,
“what would you like to eat?”
“Lucky Charms!” Sam declared happily and Jack froze,
“what was that?”he asked, barely able to believe what he just heard
“lucky charms!...plueeze?” Sam added, remembering his manners
“sure! To the kitchen!” Jack said and led the way with Sam following him like a lost puppy, Jack smiled as he thought about older Sam and what he would think about having unhealthy cereal for dinner. He laughed about the differences between his Sam and little Sam.
“you ok, mister?” Sam asked from where he was trying to keep up with Jack’s long strides, another thing he had to get used to. Usually it was the other way around.
“I’m fine Sam” Jack replied, giving him a warm smile which he returned, Jack was glad to know that at least one trait about the Sam he knew was still there. His big heart.
A few hours later, both Dean and Cas returned to the bunker to find Sam sleeping against Jack by the table with empty bowls of Lucky Charms and Crunch Cookie Crunch in front of them.
“hey!” Jack whispered, being careful not to wake Sam up “did you kill the witch?”
“yeah we did, but it’ll still be a while before Sam will be back to normal” Cas replied as he took the empty cereal bowls to the sink to wash
“so, you kids have fun?” Dean asked and took a seat across from Jack, who nodded happily
“yeah! We decided to mix our cereals together, and then we both got a sugar rush. Well, Sam did. Not so much me. Anyways, we ran around the bunker before coming back here where he collapsed. How come you never told me your brother was this much fun?”
“yeah, Sam outgrew this phase a long time ago. He decided to eat more healthy when he was 10, major killblow, but hey. What can you do about it?” Dean replied as he got a beer and handed one to Cas who had just joined them
“also, you weren’t kidding about his puppy eye look. He is very cute” Jack said slowly and Dean’s grin grew
“I told you. Yeah, Sam was a pretty cute kid.”
“speaking of which, I think we should get him to his bed” Cas said as Sam shifted against Jack slightly, Dean nodded and gently picked his brother up before leaving the kitchen
“you did a very good job Jack” Cas said once dean had left
“thanks, I now know what it’s like to care for someone. Why Dean tries so hard to protect his brother. I’ve only looked after Sam for a few hours, but I already feel more protective of him. Is that normal?”
“nah, that’s just what I call the Sam effect” Dean said as he re-entered the room and took a sip of his beer
“the Sam effect?”
“yeah, its like Sam has this thing that makes everyone he meets want to protect him. I saw a few cold-hearted hunters warm up slightly whenever Sam was present.”
“and you believe it?” Cas sounded sceptical
“well it worked on Bobby” Dean said and Cas nodded, Jack who made met the Bobby from the alternate universe understood. Bobby had a tough exterior around him that made him seem cold-hearted, but Jack could bet that within 5 minutes of meeting little Sam, that heart had warmed up.
“anyways” Dean said as he finished his beer “we should head to bed” he stood up and walked out of the room with Jack and Cas following.
The next morning, Sam woke up with memory of yesterday, except he had a craving for Lucky Charms.
Just rewatched the episode on s5 where Sam and Dean go back in time to stop Anna from killing John and Mary, and I'm now completely convinced that the hatred of John Winchester is steeped entirely in a Chuck-like disregard for the autonomy of Sam and Dean.
Like, you don't respect these characters enough to even try to understand why they would - and *do*, over and over again - forgive him? Really?
They say it over and over again; it was messed up but they get it. They knew he did the best he could. They knew he never wanted any of that for them. They knew that he failed a whole bunch, but neither one of them ever for a moment doubted that he loved them. Why do you?
Like, this is explicitly stated in canon several times. Sam and Dean were John's weakness, he loved them more than anything. He hated the life he gave them. They knew that.
John did some bad things, but he never hurt them. He was not abusive, he never put them at unnecessary risk, he always came back.
This fandom does John dirty and in doing so, they relegate Sam and Dean as helpless victims of their father. They weren't. They were complicated people who loved each other and did the best they could under literally impossible circumstances.
Which is the epitome of disrespect to these characters.
Summary: John Winchester wants to arrange dean to marry Lisa Braeden to strengthen connections and gain more power for Winchester CO. Dean has already fallen for Daisy Logan, The daughter of a local baker. Will their love conquer all or will dean sacrifice his own happiness to appease his father.
Hey guys I just want to let you know that you can always send me requests for one shots. I'll be posting them as fast as I can along with my normal one shots.
How to request:
Go to my profile by tapping on my name or profile picture and look for those symbols on the top right of the screen (picture below).
Tap on the plus symbol.
After you did something like this will show
Tap on ask and write your questions. Then tap on post.
What I write for:
You can request one shots for
It (Stephen King)
You can either request:
character x charakter
character x reader
When writing the request please do the following:
Write your pairing and mention the names you want (if you choose x reader) in case you want your name instead of y/n
Write the type of one shot (fluff, angst, smut,...)
Give me details (the more the better) and don't just write e.g. I want a fluff Captain America one shot. Instead write: I want a fluff Captain America one shot where they meet on a mission and y/n gets hurt
Tell me the trope you want (enemies to lovers, friends to lovers,...) or if it's all lovers, all friends (basically the relationship between the characters)
Please keep in mind that I don't have time to write 24/7 and I'm not only doing one shots but also have other stories planned.
I'm happy about every request and hope you enjoy the stories!
Stories I wrote so far:
(tap on them to read)
Still mad ~ Reddie (It/Stephen King
Something about this angel Part 1 Castel x Reader/Supernatural
Suicide mission Castiel x Reader/ Supernatural
Something about this angel Part 2 Castiel x Reader/Supernatural
Silence ~ Sam x Reader Supernatural
Jealousy ~ Dean x Reader Supernatural
Mission partner Part 1 Steve Rodgers x Reader/ Marvel
Mission partner Part 2 Steve Rodgers x Reader/Marvel
The night was dark and it was cold. The cold sunk into Jack's bones and the coat he'd been given by the apocalypse refugees wasn't thick enough to keep the chill from seeping into his bones. Yet, in a odd way, he appreciated it. Jack hadn't felt a cold like this before; it was something new and it was good. It meant he was still feeling.
Mary had pulled Jack from his tent that night. "It's New Years Eve!" She'd told him.
"I don't know what that means." He'd frowned, still so new to the traditions of the world.
Mary smiled. "You will, Jack," She'd said, "You will."
Then she'd taken his hand and led him to the center of camp. There was a roaring bonfire and Jack took the opportunity to let the heat from, the flickering orange flames wash over him. Mary patted Jack on the back and left his side to go sit by Bobby. Jack looked on at the crowd surrounding the fire. There was snow falling, like stars cascading from the heavens and dusting the shoulders of the apocalypse refugees. They toasted and drank and talked amongst Each other, free or the weariness that pressed upon their backs every other day of the year. The people looked... happy. To see them smile was so rare and Jack wondered what could possibly be so special about this night in particular that made them all smile.
That was when the music began. It was drawling with an almost annoying twang to it but when it began, the people cheered and started to clap to the rhythm.
"No, I don't want no more of army life!
Gee ma! I wanna go home!"
The tune sounded happy, though Jack didn't know the song, so he just resolved to listen. More cheering rang in his ears as a man in the crowd stood up.
"The biscuts in this army
They say are mighty fine
But one rolled off the table
And killed a friend of mine!"
The crowd cheered again and the man sat down.
"No, I don't want no more of army life!
Gee, ma, I wanna go home!"
A teenage boy stood on a log and smiled nervously, but his eyes shown with joy in the firelight.
"The tents in this fine army
They say are mighty clean
But I looked in on my neighbor's
Grossest thing I ever seen!"
"No! I don't want no more of army life!
Gee, ma! I wanna go home!"
The silly song made Jack grin and he laughed along with the others. How long had it been since he'd laughed? Three young women stood up next, shareing mischievous grinns with each other before they began singing.
"The soldiers in this army
They'll ask to share our tents
So, we'll say no thank you
We have some common sense!"
This time, Jack found himself singing the along to the chorus. The song was easy to pick up and the smiles of the crowd were contagious. Jack was grinning.
"No! I don't want no more of army life!
Gee, ma! I wanna go home!"
The laughter was intermixed with several sarcastic complaints from the young men in the camp. To Jack's surprise, Mary stood up from her place on a log beside Bobby. She raised her cup and smiled wider than Jack had ever seen her do.
"The moonshine in this army
Bobby makes it all the time
It's great for cuts and bruises
And tastes like turpentine!"
"But ya drink it anyway!" Bobby called out, his eyes sparkling.
"No! I don't want no more of army life!
Gee, ma! I wanna go home!"
Mary sat back down and turned her gaze on Jack. 'You try one!' She mouthed at him. Jack shook his head. 'I don't know how,' he mouthed back. 'You don't need to,' was her response. Jack felt nervous. He understood the point of the song now; it was just for fun. But he didn't want to mess it up. Another verse went by before Jack decided to just go ahead and do it. He stood up, trying his best to avoid the eyes of the crowd.
"They sing songs in this world
Mary told me to sing mine
I said: I'm only one year old, Ma'am
I don't know how to rhyme!"
People whooped ad hollered. They thought he was funny. That brought a smile to Jack's face that was even brighter than it had been before. He had done something good. He had made them laugh.
"No! I don't want no more of army life!
Gee, ma! I wanna go home!"
Singing the words that time started a dull ache in Jack's chest. Oh, how he missed his mother. But she would want him to have fun, so Jack continued singing. A few more verses went by until a tiny girl no older than ten, climbed onto a log. She looked Jack right in the eyes and smiled.
"The angels that we're fighting
They say are really bad
But there's a half one I'd tell thank you
Because he saved my dad!"
Her words struck Jack in his core. She was talking about him. Jack Kline. She was telling him thank you. Jack had done something good. Really, truly, good. It felt amazing.
"No! I don't want no more of army life!
Gee, ma I wanna go home!"
"One more time!" Someone hollered. Everyone cheered and Mary shot Jack a smile and a wink. So, Jack raised his voice and shouted along with the rest.
"The people in this army
Our spirit they cannot bind
And if we keep pushing forward
I know we'll win in time!"
And the bonfire rose with the battlecry of one thousand battered people, their joy in the face of catastrophe manifesting as one voice.
"No! I don't want no more of army life!
Gee, ma I wanna go home!
No! I can't stand no more of army life!
Gee, ma, I wanna go-
But they won't let me go-
Gee, ma! I wanna go home!"
The people whooped and hollered, and Bobby stood to raise a toast.
"To another year gone, to hope that this one will be better, and to all the good ones we lost along the way," He said, raising his cup into the air and bowing his head. Jack didn't have a cup but he followed suit. It just felt like the right thing to do, he supposed.
And as a new song began to rise over the crackling of the fire and the falling of the snow, Jack thought of his mother. He couldn't help it. He just missed her so much. He missed his father too. He missed Castiel and Kelly so much that it hurt.
"Gee, Ma. I wanna go home." He whispered to himself as tears and snowflakes stung his eyes.
He didn't quite understand all the words to the new song the camp was singing, but somehow he knew what they meant.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For days of auld lang syne
We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn
Frae morning sun till dine
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin days of auld lang syne
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For days of auld lang syne"
Jack missed his mother. He missed Castiel. He missed Sam. He missed Dean. He missed his family. He missed his home.
Jack didn't know what a 'New Year' was. But, perhaps now he knew a little of what it was about. A New Year was about looking back on the old one, looking back on all the life one has lived. But that wasn't all. A New Year was about hope, about remembering to look forward to the brighter days ahead. Just like how the darkness of the night is a promise that one will see the sun again.
Jack missed his home. Jack missed his family. But this New Year brought him hope that, one day, he'd see them again.
That thought brought a faint smile to his face and a new calm to his heart. So, Jack sat and watched the flickering flames and the falling snow and the smiles on the faces of the people he protected.
When the time came around, Jack looked up to the sky and whispered:
So now that I've actually seen 15x18 and slept on it I wanna say that Dean's reaction to confession was 100% in character for someone in the same circumstances as him. I'm more mad at him for what he pulled off in the previous episode ("Jack's not family") and that even after that Cas called him the most loving man on earth.... Well, he didn't deserve that imo. Good for Cas for getting over it but I'm different and very much still mad....
I mean I HATE the way spn will show a character make peace with something and then once they need the same thing as a plot device, it's back and it's problematic again! I mean I'm not gonna say that Dean had fully forgiven Jack, he hadn't, he said that much, said he was trying. But being this cruel to the kid? That is not Dean, either. Dean sacrificing another so he and his brother would live a free life is not Dean. Idk man idk
I ship Chestervelle because Jo Harvelle really loved Dean and cared about him deeply. She's almost like the female version of Dean - they had so much in common like their unconditional love for their dads and their family united and many more: fun, love, dedication, sarcasm, loyalty, etc, they had it all. Everything a relationship needs.
The wonderfulness that is Rowena appears courtesy of the amazing @fangirlxwritesx67 - 😍
Summary: Dean and Emily seek comfort together in their shared grief over losing Sam. In their desperation, they may be doing more hurt than healing. Disaster and salvation surprise them both. But all choices come with a price.
Part 2 Warnings: smut, angst, grieving, cheating (sort of), bad decisions, betrayal, thoughts suicide mentioned (section is labelled), fluff, language, alcoholism, show level violence mentioned.
Part 2 Characters: Dean Winchester, OFC (Emily), Sam Winchester, Rowena.
Pairing: Dean x OFC, Sam x OFC.
Notes: sequel to Need Me
Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch - seriously I cannot thank you enough for all your help, this fic wouldn't be what it is without you 😘// all mistakes are my own.
Master Lists: Series // Fangirlxwritesx67
The library echoed their amusement long after it died off naturally. Dean had recounted a prank war he and Sam partook in, and he and Emily celebrated Sam’s smarts with laughter and shots of whisky.
Dean yawned, a wide mouth, eye-watering yawn that made his eyes shimmer, and Emily’s gut fizzled with anxiety. She didn’t want him to announce he was calling it a night; she didn’t want to be alone. She still wasn’t ready to sleep in any room of the bunker. It had been part of the reason she’d fled days before. The salt and burn had simply been an excuse to stay in a motel.
Dean swallowed a small sip of burning liquor and sighed loudly. “I’m gonna hit the hay.”
She nodded and tried to keep the disappointment from her face and tone. “Yeah, me too, just gonna sit for a minute,” she lied. “It’s been a long day.”
The turmoil of their argument had taken a toll, and she was exhausted. Still, she knew any bed she lay in would be too big without Sam and she’d toss and turn. She needed somewhere that didn’t feel like it belonged to Sam.
Dean rounded the table and placed a kiss in her hair, “Goodnight, Em,” before walking away.
She inhaled his scent a moment longer than necessary and called goodnight before he disappeared around the corner. Emily had had a eureka moment but needed to wait. The plan was to take some blankets and a pillow from one of the spare rooms and sleep in the back of the Impala.
Baby was Dean’s, through and through, it felt safe in the same way his arms did. The ghost of Sam would always be riding shotgun, but essentially she believed it was Dean’s and she’d be able to sleep there.
After what she estimated to be ten minutes, she took both glasses and swilled them out under the faucet, trying to waste a few more minutes. She’d need clean pajamas, but she needed to psych herself up to be able to go into her room.
Frozen with her hand wrapped around the handle, she couldn’t enter the room; she knew Sam’s scent would assault her, and she wouldn’t be able to deal with it. Her mind reeled, and without even opening the door, it played a memory she hadn’t been ready to relive.
Being cocooned in Sam’s arms never failed to make Emily feel safe. The outside world didn’t matter; the only world that existed was the one where they were as close as they could be. The heat from their lovemaking lingered, still burning her up. The twinge of pain between her thighs served as a delectable reminder that Sam had left his mark, and the tickle of his lazy kisses behind her ear spread like wildfire through her entire body. It was heaven.
“Sam,” she murmured, the fight against slumber slowly being lost.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, though the deliberate roll of his hips to rub his swelling cock against her ass said differently. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“I need sleep,” she whined, “just give me a couple of hours.”
His chuckled breath tickled her ear, and it sent another wave of goosebumps across her skin. “Good night, baby. I love you.”
Her eyes sprang open and shock made her entire body rigid. She knew Sam felt it, there was no way he couldn’t have, but she couldn’t get herself to relax or form a thought to respond to him.
She had been with the Winchesters for four months. On paper, it wasn’t a vast amount of time, but she’d come to realize, in their world, it was a lifetime.
“Em,” Sam said, gently tugging her shoulder.
After a breathless moment, she allowed him to roll her onto her back. He propped himself up on his elbow to hover over her. His thumb stroked her cheek, kaleidoscope eyes shining with understanding, not disappointment as she’d feared.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he assured her. “I get it. We’re reading the same book; I’m just a couple chapters ahead of you.”
She hadn’t said it back that day; she’d kissed him and promised she’d catch up soon enough. Sam had understood, as he always did. Hand still frozen on the doorknob, she wished she had said it back that day, and a million other times, when she’d had the chance.
“Emily,” Dean’s voice startled her, and she jumped back as if the rounded brass had scorched her hand.
“Hey, hi,” she said, swatting at the tears dampening her cheeks. “I thought you were hitting the hay.”
“I am,” he nodded, approaching her slowly. “I just wanted to check on you first, make sure you were okay with going in there.”
She pushed her shoulders back, stepped closer to the door, and once again gripped the handle. Her body language oozed confidence, but it was lacking in her tone. “I’ll be fine.”
Dean’s hand encased hers, and he gently pried it off the polished metal. “You don’t have to go in there; you can sleep with me.” Her eyebrows rose high, but Dean butted in before she could make a snarky remark. “That’s not what I meant. I mean actually sleep. The Impala isn’t the comfiest.”
“How did you know?”
“Cause it’s what I would’ve done,” he smiled softly. “C’mon,” Dean said, leading her down the corridor.
Emily had purposely dawdled in Lawrence. She had no intention of buying anything from the farmer’s market, but she had browsed every stall, wasting as much time as she could to delay the inevitable. They had been back at the bunker for almost two weeks, and she still hadn’t plucked up the courage to enter her and Sam’s room.
She had been washing and wearing the clothes from her duffle. The hunt that had taken Sam’s life had had the potential to last more than a few days, so she’d overpacked. Perhaps that had been an omen. But her favorite pair of jeans were beginning to fray on the left knee, and she knew they weren’t likely to last another wash and wear cycle.
She had promised herself that when she returned, she’d go into the room and take out all her things even if she had to hold her breath the whole time to stop Sam’s scent from seeping into her brain and forcing her to relive, now tainted memories.
She’d slept in Dean’s room every night - with one exception after a particularly nasty argument she could no longer recall the cause or resolution for - but she wouldn’t be moving her things there. The room across the hall, where she’d slept after that argument, would do. The bed wasn’t as spongy as the sullen hunter’s memory foam, but it was comfy enough, and Dean’s closet contained way too many flannels to leave any space for Emily’s stuff. Essentially, she suspected, the spare room would serve as a dressing-slash-storage room rather than a bedroom.
Having wasted enough time as possible at the market, she drove slightly below the speed limit but was still pulling in the bunker garage in what felt like record time. On the path to ripping her heart out, again, she dropped the bounty from her supply run in the kitchen.
“Homemade jalapeño burgers for dinner?” Dean asked. The question was moot; he was already knuckles deep, flour sprinkled on his cheeks, kneading a large batch of dough to make the buns.
They were her favorite. It had to be pure coincidence that he was making them on the day she vowed to put on her metaphorical big girl pants. She hadn’t told him her plan. Either way, it would be a nice reward waiting for her at the end of the dreaded task.
She tried a smile on for size, but as much as she forced her lips up, it wasn’t wide enough to convince anyone. “Sounds good, thanks.”
“Can you grab me a shirt from my closet? It’s gotten a little chilly in here.” He shuddered to emphasize his point.
Any other time she’d have asked him what ailment his last slave died from or enquired why he was uncharacteristically only wearing one layer, but it was another delay, and so she simply nodded and walked out.
As she made her way to his room, she had the wicked idea of messing up the bed. It would be in pristine condition, tight military corners - how he’d been taught - not a wrinkle to be found. She’d done it a few times to rile him up, and he’d punished her in a wonderful, leg buckling way. That would also be a nice reward to look forward to.
She twisted the handle but paused. Dean wasn’t likely to have followed her, but just to be sure, and ever the hunter, she checked over her shoulder. Coast clear, she pushed into the room, a mischievous smile drawing her lips back.
A gasp escaped her, and tears pooled in her eyes as she stumbled forward. The bed was, in fact, pristine as she had expected but, neatly laid at the bottom, on the left side where she usually slept, was a silky pyjama shorts set that had been in Sam’s room.
He was so light on his feet, she sensed, rather than heard him enter behind her. “I cleared a drawer out, for the essentials,” he said, quieter than she’d ever heard him talk without whispering. “The rest of it is across the hall.”
She spun on her heels to face him, unashamedly crying bittersweet tears. He pushed off the doorframe and met her halfway.
The relief puffed out of her in a heavy sigh as she tiptoed to wrap her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” he snaked his arms around her waist and held her tightly against him.
She placed a soft kiss on his neck, absorbing his scent in a deep inhale; flour, beer, his cheap but surprisingly sweet-smelling cologne. Now that she wouldn’t have to spend the afternoon battling to block out her many memories of Sam, she wanted to create a new one. She wanted this very moment cemented to her memory.
He hummed contentedly after her third featherlight kiss. “You keep that up, and we’re gonna end up with burnt burgers.”
She laughed but pulled back to kiss him once more. “Oh, we shouldn’t waste food,” she reprimanded as she walked around him and out the door. “How about I make a pie for after?”
“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” He jested, following after her.
⚠ thoughts of suicide mentioned
Emily stirred, involuntarily groaned, bringing the heel of her hand to her head. Her memory was hazy, not able to recall what had happened, only that she’d been afraid. She didn’t know if the threat had passed, if the remnants of fear were her fight or flight response still in effect after being knocked unconscious or if her body sensed danger.
She willed herself to keep quiet, but her head throbbed; the light in the room was too bright. She tried to get up to shut off the offending beam, and another pained moan escaped her. The binds tugged, pinching the skin on her wrists, and then she began to panic. Silence was no longer an option, and she whimpered and huffed, trying to yank her wrists free, to no avail.
The memories came flooding back. Her family - oh god - her family. Emily had returned home from a double shift at the restaurant. Her parents, younger sister, and brother had been sat at the kitchen table, food long ago grown cold, her father’s face was bleeding, her mother sobbing, siblings shaking with fear. They all turned fearful expressions to her when she entered the dining room. She hadn’t had time to ask what was going on before she’d been attacked from behind.
The rope burned, and her struggles served only to tighten. She heard a commotion outside the door and feared her captors were returning now that they knew she was awake.
The commotion grew closer, huffed breaths, snarls filled with fury, and then her ex-boyfriend, Jake, backed into the room. His arms held up high, protecting his face. It seemed impossible he could talk with his mouth overflowing with razor-sharp teeth and not cut his lips, yet somehow he managed to growl, “Come on, hunter!”
A man she’d never seen before stalked into the room after him. The stalker held a large machete like a baseball bat. He was absolutely ready to swing, and he looked like he never missed a shot. Blood dripped from the blade, and Emily prayed it was Jake’s and not her family’s.
Jake threw a right hook, but the man dodged it and swung the knife in the same motion, slicing through Jake’s neck. Blood splashed her cheek as his head hit the floor before it rolled out of view under the bed.
The silence that followed was surreal. The knife-wielding man panted for breath for a moment before he seemed to remember himself and began cutting her binds.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
That seemed an odd statement, considering he’d just decapitated her ex-boyfriend, but what was odder was that she believed him.
“I’m Dean; I’m here to help you,” he explained, cutting the last of the rope from her legs. “Can you sit up?”
She nodded and swung her legs off the bed. “What’s going on?”
“This is going to sound crazy, but the guy under the bed…”
“Jake,” she provided.
“Yeah, Jake, he was a vampire. But you’re safe now.”
Safe. It spurred her into action, and she stood quickly, whimpering, “my family!”
Standing proved too much for her concussed brain, and she immediately felt woozy. Emily swayed, but Dean grabbed her bicep before she could fall.
“Okay, I think you need to sit back down.”
She took the advice, but only because the room was spinning. Dean knelt beside her, and the intensity of his stare compelled her to look in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, but I was too late to save your family,” he turned his gaze away, looking toward the open door, and his eyes reflected the horrors that lay beyond it. “I’m so sorry.”
“No,” she cried, “what do you mean too late? Jake came for me; he only wanted me, he said so.”
Again she tried to stand, but this time Dean forced her to a seat. “They’re all gone. I’m sorry I couldn’t help them,” he regretfully told her. He gave her a second to take it in, to understand he wasn’t playing some cruel trick. “We need to get out of here, one of them got away, and I don’t know if he went to get back-up. Can you stand?”
She nodded slowly through her tears, “I think so.”
He helped her to her feet, encouraging her to lean on him. He put an arm around her waist and tucked her into his shoulder. “Listen, I want you to stay close to me, close your eyes, I’ll guide you out. Believe me; you don’t want to see what’s out there.”
She trusted him; perhaps it was the concussion or the fact she was pretty sure he had just saved her life, even if he hadn’t been able to save her family. She held onto him tightly, maybe a little too tightly, and squeezed her eyes shut.
Emily focused on her savior—the smell of leather, a hint of bourbon, the odor of sweat mixed with a sweet cologne, the vibrations of his soothing words against her ear. “You’re doing great, almost there. I got you.”
“You okay over there?” Dean asked, squeezing Emily’s knee before returning it to the steering wheel. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet; you haven’t once moaned about my music or speeding.”
Those things seemed trivial now. The hunt they were returning from had been a particularly bad one. Before they could stop the creature, an entire family had been torn apart. Emily had had the misfortune of finding the mutilated bodies.
She flashed him a wry smile and lied, “thought I’d give you a break from my nagging.”
“Liar,” he said. He waited for a beat to allow her to deny it or tell him she didn’t want to talk about it, as she often did. But she didn’t have it in her to fight him on either count. “The daughter,” he began cautiously, “she looked like your sister.”
“You mean the sole survivor?” she sardonically said. “She could have been my sister.”
“It stirred up memories?”
“No, it’s not that, well it is that but also,” Emily paused, unsure exactly how to say what it was without sounding heartless. “We didn’t save her, Dean.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, brow creased with confusion. He glanced at her before putting his eyes back on the road. “We dropped her off two states away at her aunt’s house, and she was very much alive when we did.”
“She was breathing, sure, but she wasn’t alive. I could see it in her eyes when we said goodbye. She won’t survive losing them, the guilt and grief will eat her up, and she’ll hurt herself.”
“You don’t know that,” he said, “people are resilient.”
“I do know that ‘cause it’s the exact same look I had in my eyes that made Sam make you take me on the road with you.”
“For the record, Sam didn’t make me do anything,” he informed her with a cocky tone. “I wanted to track down the vamp that got away. He had your scent; there was no way he was going to give up. I did want to stash you at Bobby’s while we hunted, but Sam convinced me you were better off with us, on the move.”
She didn’t need the reminder that Jake had done a thorough job of wiping out her family tree before he went to her home. But Dean’s words made the images of everyone he’d killed flash through her mind, and she needed to close her eyes to remind herself to breathe.
He lowered his voice, just above a whisper, as if he was telling a secret that he was afraid would escape the confines of the car. “You’d lost so much. I didn’t want you to have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life, too.”
He reached across the seat for her hand, and when she gave it to him, he tugged her closer. He waited until she was tucked under his arm again, head resting over his heart, the same way he’d walked her out of her house all those years ago.
“You lost everyone you ever knew, and you survived.”
“Only thanks to you and Sam.”
“I think it was more Sam,” he corrected.
That was true. Sam had played a more significant part in her survival than Dean. Though at one time, she’d wanted Dean in his place. She had harbored a crush on the eldest Winchester for a long time. Sam had teased her about it, though she had later learned his teasing had been a cover for his envy. Ultimately, it had been the catalyst for bringing Sam and Emily closer.
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Dean suggested, “we’ve got a few hours before we’re home.”
She shook her head enough for him to feel it. “I don’t want to close my eyes.” She choked down a sob, but it vibrated through her chest. “I don’t want to see it all again.”
“Hey, hey,” he coaxed. He lifted her head to look at him with a gentle finger under her chin and interrupted the stream of tears with his thumb, waiting until she’d bested them enough to open her eyes again. He kissed her quickly, a sly smile curling his lips upward when he pulled away. “When we get back, I promise to fuck you so thoroughly that when your head finally hits the pillow, you won’t have the energy to dream.”
She wiggled her brow, “I like the sound of that.” she kissed him hard, and he reciprocated as best he could without driving them off the road.
Dean swirled his hips while Emily rode his cock. She looked exquisite, flushed cheeks, sweat-drenched hair clung to the side of her face, her breasts bounced as she lifted and fell back down. The sound of flesh on flesh as her ass met his pelvis was obscene but nothing compared to the borderline illegal noises she made while she used Dean in all the ways he needed.
She’d made him cum once already with her mouth. While he recovered, he returned the favor, using his tongue and fingers to draw two orgasms out of her. She’d been riding him for a little while now, and he was close to his second climax, but he knew she wasn’t ready to stop.
She braced herself with one hand on his chest, teeth sunken into her bottom lip. “Fuck, Dean.”
The telltale hitch in her voice let him know she was speeding toward another climax. He knew exactly what she needed to get her there.
“Em,” he said breathlessly, sitting up to bury his face in her breasts. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, used his fingers to pinch and pull the other. Her rhythm faltered when she slid down his length this time, her walls clamped around him, and he released her nipple to loudly groan as he mixed his cum with hers.
There was no sound, no door opened, no light flashed, but something displaced the air in the room, and Dean knew before he opened his eyes, they weren’t alone. He felt Emily’s body tense when she sensed it too. Without breaking the kiss, Emily tapped the tip of her finger on his bicep, a countdown... three...two…one.
They both exploded off the bed. In the same movement, each snatching a gun that sat on the nightstand. Dean cocked his gun and took a step in front of Emily to partly shield her with his own body.
Though neither of them had touched the switch, the room’s main light illuminated, and Rowena stood just inside the door in a form-fitting purple gown that flowed to the floor. Magic glittered like gold sparks in the air around her.
“Well,” she smiled, white teeth gleaming behind her flawlessly applied plum lipstick. “That was awfully dramatic.”
Dean kept his gun trained on the little witch but glanced sideways to watch Em wrap up in the nearest thing she could find -- his discarded flannel.
“Finding comfort in the arms of your lost lover’s older brother? I can’t say that I blame you.” Rowena approached Em, but her eyes raked over Dean, across his shoulders, and down to his half-hard member.
“I’ll admit, you surprised even me, but it will work nicely with my plans. Very nice indeed.” Rowena laid one small hand on Em’s shoulder and let it trail down to settle on her waist.
Em stared at her, defiant, never breaking eye contact. That made Rowena smile as she stepped back and looked between the two of them.
“Speaking of surprises,” she leaned forward, “I have one for the two of you in the library. Clean up, put some clothes on, and I’ll see you there.” With that, the petite redhead turned and glided out of the room—the door opening before her and her long purple gown billowing behind her as if enchanted.
Once she was gone, the two of them dressed quickly. Dean grumbled about leaving the weapons in the war room to be cleaned, but Emily was more concerned with being caught. How much did Rowena know?
Dean handed her a gun and a knife without speaking. She followed his lead, tucking the knife into her boot and the gun into the waistband of her jeans. He grabbed another weapon from his nightstand and checked the magazine.
“Wait,” Em said softly, one hand on his arm. He looked from her hand to her face. “Let’s see what Rowena has brought us before we go in, guns blazing.”
Dean nodded and tucked that gun away somewhere on his person. “I know you asked her for help. I still don’t trust her as far as I could throw her.”
“That wouldn’t be very far,” Em couldn’t help laughing. The corner of Dean’s lips quirked up before he shook his head again.
He led the way to the library, making sure Em was safe behind the width of his shoulders.
The two of them rounded the corner at the same time to see Rowena seated in one of the leather library chairs, legs crossed, purple gown pooling on the floor. She had a cut crystal glass in her hand, and when she saw them, she raised it as if toasting.
“To surprises!” She exclaimed before tipping the glass back and swallowing half the amber contents.
Em looked at Dean and back at Rowena, hardly able to breathe. Just then, Sam stepped out from behind a bookcase.
“Sam!” She cried, taking a step towards him. Sam lifted his hands to meet hers before Dean stepped between them.
“Wait,” he growled. “How do we know this isn't one of her tricks?” He bobbed his head to where Rowena sat, smug and serene.
“You ask for my help and then doubt me when I give it. What kind of thanks is this?” Rowena pouted and rolled her eyes.
“Sam,” he turned to his younger brother. “You know the drill. The tests.”
Sam looked at him, baffled. “But why --?”
“You were dead, dude.”
Sam looked to Em for confirmation. She said nothing, but her eyes filled with tears. That was when he seemed to believe it. He heaved a sigh, shoulders falling in resignation.
Dean watched, eagle-eyed, while his brother sliced a small cut on the inside of his arm with a silver blade and drank a shot of holy water. Sam didn't complain again.
Over and over, his eyes sought Em’s. She could see his impatience. She felt the longing for him deep in her belly, but there, at the same time, was the heavy weight of what she had just done with Dean.
When Sam had fulfilled the final one, Dean stepped forward and swept him up in a back-slapping hug. Whatever the two brothers whispered then would remain for their ears only.
Next, he turned toward Emily and held out his arms. She eagerly ran to him, desperate to be in his embrace again. She tucked her face into the curve of his neck and let her tears flow as he stroked her hair with one big hand.
“How long was I gone?” He murmured, his voice low in her ear.
“Too long,” she sobbed.
“Just long enough,” Rowena answered. How had she heard?!
“You look like you’ve been fighting. Is everything okay?” Sam pulled back, held Em at arm’s length, and looked her straight in the eye.
“Oh, I found her and Dean blowing off some steam. It seems they missed you terribly.” Rowena winked and downed the rest of her glass.
“Yeah, in the gym! Sparring!” Dean stepped forward, slinging an arm around his younger, taller brothers’ shoulders. “C’mon. Enough of that.”
“Wait --” Sam turned to Emily again. “So if I was dead, and Rowena is here…” His brow furrowed as his words trailed off, still trying to make sense of everything that had happened.
“I asked for her help,” Em admitted softly.
“But, at what price?” Sam slipped a hand under her chin and tilted her face to meet his. She looked away, unwilling to meet his gaze.
“Oh, the price she offers is quite enough,” Rowena answered. “She will pay, every drop, in time.”
“So many questions, Sammy!” Dean cut in. “You’re here; that’s all that matters. Let’s go make dinner, huh?”
Emily lingered in the library, waiting for a moment with Rowena. When the two of them were alone, the little witch raised her brows.
“Yes?” She cooed, part invitation and part challenge.
Em dropped to her knees beside Rowena. “Please --” She heard her voice crack. She stopped, took a deep breath, and tried again. "Please tell me you didn't bring Sam back just to tear him away again. I'll lose him all over if he finds out…"
She let her words trail off as if naming what had happened would make it more real.
"Oh, my dear." Rowena shook her head. "Sam won't hear a word from my lips about what you and Dean have got up to. You'll tell him yourself."
"Never!" Em gasped. "I love him too much."
"And what is grief if not love lost?" Rowena's smile was inscrutable. "In time, truth will tell."
“Thank you,” Em murmured, her eyes filling with tears again. “Thank you. How can I ever thank you enough?”
“As I said, truth will tell.” Rowena cupped Emily’s chin in her hand, painted nails grazing her cheek. “I’ll collect what I’m owed when the time is right.”
Em swallowed hard and let her eyes flutter closed for just a moment, so she didn’t see Rowena disappear. She only felt the rush of wind and heard the glass as it fell to the floor and shattered. When she opened her eyes, all she saw were sharp-edged and fading sparks.
Em waited for a bit before she stood up. Without looking back, she headed towards the kitchen. She could clean up the mess later.
Sam looked between the two of them, confusion and gratitude mingling on his face. “I was so confused when Rowena brought me back. I still don’t know everything that has happened. But now I’m here, and I just -- I missed you both so much. I’m so happy.”
His voice cracked, and he held his arms out for a hug. Both Dean and Em answered, and for once, the three of them were close without any questions or doubts.
After dinner, she followed Sam to his room. The two of them undressed without speaking, Emily careful to keep the visible reminders of her indiscretions from being seen. When he climbed into bed, he lifted the covers and patted the mattress next to him. She went without thinking and settled into the shelter of his embrace.
There was time later to sort things out. Surely, there would be. For tonight, it was enough to be tucked against the warm length of his body, one long arm around her waist, and his even breathing in her ear as he drifted off to sleep, and she soon followed.
Emily woke early the next morning, surprised by how rested she was. Though the moment she opened her eyes, a blanket of sadness settled over her, knowing Dean had slept alone for the first time in - how long had it been? She worked the numbers in her head.
It had been a few days shy of two and a half months. She did the math again, just to be sure, but knew she was right. Her fling - could it even be called that - with Dean had been going on for a few months. The sadness lingered, and soon shame jostled for space in her mixed emotions because even laying with his brother’s chest pressed to her back, she missed Dean.
She sighed, rubbing a hand down her face, and she felt Sam stir.
He hummed, stretching slightly before tugging her closer. “I don’t remember being gone,” he whispered, nuzzling into her neck. “But I know I missed this.”
“I missed you too, baby.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, and she heard the telling smile in his voice. He nibbled her earlobe, his mouth ghosting over the shell of her ear. “What exactly did you miss?”
She hadn’t missed sex, that was for sure; she’d been getting plenty of that. She chuckled and hoped it hid the nerves she felt. She couldn’t let him see her naked he’d see the marks Dean left on her thighs yesterday and the fading bruises of all their other times together. Sam wouldn’t know it had been Dean’s hands that created them but would that matter?
“You’ve always had an insatiable hunger,” he said, using a grip on her chin to turn her face so he could kiss her. “How did you manage without me?” Sam swirled his hips, pushing his semi-hard erection against her leg, and she felt the pressure grind into one of the aforementioned bruises she couldn’t allow him to see.
“My vibrator worked overtime,” she winked and kissed him again. The less she had to talk, the less chance she had of saying something she shouldn’t.
“Well, let’s give it a day off,” suggested Sam, running a hand down her body.
She grabbed his wrist before he made it to the waistband of her pyjamas, “I can’t,” she said, quickly and mentally kicked herself that she couldn’t think of an excuse as to why. They lied as part of their jobs, practically every day, yet she had nothing in her arsenal right now.
Staring into his eyes, she had no other thought than if she hoped to keep Sam from finding out about Dean, she’d need to get better at lying to him.
The rejection shone in his eyes for a split second before he found the reason for her. “Ah, it’s the seventeenth,” he figured, “you have your period. Sorry baby,” he kissed her softly, “my days are all jumbled.”
“Well, you were dead,” she jested, “you can be forgiven for forgetting my cycle.” Though, she had no excuse for forgetting.
He hummed a happy groan against her mouth and waited until she was breathless to pull back.
“Why don’t the three of us go out for breakfast?” he asked.
“That’d be nice,” she lied again. It wouldn’t be nice; it would be excruciatingly awkward, but the alleviation of having avoided sex felt like a huge success. She’d deal with the next hurdle when she had to.
If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d have thought Sam’s hand was magnetized and Emily’s body was the pull. Since inviting him out to breakfast, Sam had been touching her in some way, holding her hand, arm around her shoulder, resting on her knee, fingers on the small of her back.
Sam had always been affectionate; public displays of affection never offended him. But the grimace Emily wore as if his touch was painful in some way, was going to alert Sam that something was wrong. She wasn’t acting like herself. Had she forgotten how she used to be around him? Forgotten how to love Sam? She’d barely acknowledged Dean, kept her eyes downcast, like some dutiful servant not permitted to look a man in the eye. Her behavior was suspicious at best, and Dean knew it was because she felt immeasurable guilt, he did too, but she was doing a damn lousy job at hiding it.
“Okay, what happened between you two?” Sam asked.
Dean had tried unsuccessfully, for the third time, to engage Emily in a normal conversation. She’d given a short, sharp answer and looked around the room like an immature child avoiding eye contact.
“Nothing,” grumbled Dean.
“Nothing, my ass,” Sam disagreed, “you two have barely said a word to each other since I’ve been back. What happened while I was gone? Did you finally come to blows ‘cause I wasn’t there to stop it?”
It was true; they’d had some pretty heated arguments over the years. They knew how to push each other's buttons to the point of breaking. There had even been a few instances that had Sam not stepped in, that would have resulted in trading punches and bruised cheeks. But they had found common ground in their grief. They traded orgasms instead of punches, and bruised cheeks had been brokered into bruised thighs and bite marks.
Sam looked from Dean to Emily. Dean fixed his stern gaze to Emily’s, almost challengingly. If ever there was a time for her to break, it would be now. He watched in muted horror as her eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip trembled.
Please don’t. He begged silently. Please don’t let me lose my brother again. Not like that.
“Em?” Sam queried, breaking her concentration on his brother. He rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Tell me what happened.”
“Yeah, we had a fight,” she finally said, voice cracking. Her fingers fidgeted on the table. “A few, actually, so many I lost count.”
“I said some stuff I shouldn’t have,” Dean chimed in, eyes latched on Emily, willing her to look up at him again. “I was an idiot and out of line. I never should’ve…I regret every single fight we had. Em, I’m sorry. ”
This wasn’t the way to have the conversation he needed to have with her. Innuendo and metaphors, but what choice did he have?
“Really?” she sneered, “cause you seemed to like to come back for more and were quite convincing in everything you said.”
“What did you say?” Sam asked, and Dean saw the anger he was barely containing.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Emily, quickly, “it’s over now. Let’s just forget it.”
Theres a difference between my favorite character and my comfort character. Like cas is my favorite in spn. Hes great. I love him. But dean is my comfort character cause hes hot and depressed and struggling with his sexuality and i relate
🎉 THE LAST GIVE AWAY ART HURRAYYY!!!!! 🎉 For @mattzerella-sticks who wanted destiel holding hands on the beach but when i sketched it out it turned into....well this ahaha. no hand holding but a hope a kiss makes up for it :’D
#supernatural#dean winchester#castiel#destiel#deancas #the art of a lemon wedge #I NEED TO GO TO BED NOW OMG #im gonna be so tired tomorrow lol #BUT I WANTED TO GET THIS DONE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #inspired by #my 4th of july where i went to the beach and while collecting cool rocks i absolutely wasnt paying attention and got wiped out by a wave #except i didnt get no dean kiss #instead i had to walk back to my fam drenched #but laughing at least #ANYWAYS#GOODNIGHT