Spn - Tumblr Posts - Page 3

How does any of this make sense if Dean isn't bisexual?? No, really. How????

THERE'S NO STRAIGHT EXPLANATION FOR ANY OF THIS

LMFAO more TFW snaps p.3

this.

watching supernatural like

Misha Collins was put on this planet to sexually frustrate you.

I made a meme

Idk if anyone's done it before 🤣

I just rewatched Dog Dean Afternoon,

pleeeaase someone tell me there's puppy!Dean fanfic where he likes the back of his head scratched and belly rubs and whines for people to give him scraps of food

I forgot how cringe (in a good way) the scene was

in S9 E8 'Rock and a Hard Place' with Dean and the porn star flirting in Spanish like he acts all cool but really he's just a little goofy guy

Bonus points to Jody and Sam's conversation

Jody: I needed something that made to me.

Jody: You know, comfort, I guess.

Sam: Yeah, I guess we're all looking for that.

Jody: Except those that got it

[Sam looks confused]

Jody: Come on.

Jody: You and Dean? That's something special, don't you think?

I forgot how cringe (in a good way) the scene was

in S9 E8 'Rock and a Hard Place' with Dean and the porn star flirting in Spanish like he acts all cool but really he's just a little goofy guy

dean bit him.

woww I forgot just how little we got of demon Dean, like I knew it wasn't for long but only three episodes is absurd we deserve more T . T

Watch out for Sammy

sort of sam/dean drabble (557 words), kind of just a prologue but idk if i'll get around to writing more

set during stanford era, dean started taking jobs as close to stanford as he could to keep an eye on sam in his spare time until he eventually ends up just watching sam at all times when he's not on a job, but people start to notice.

content warnings: stalking, implied sex (jess/sam)

    "Sam?" He turns to face his friend, Matt, who called him. He puts a hand on Sam's shoulder to lean in a little so he could be heard over the music. "I don't wanna worry you, but there's a guy over by the bar that's been watching you the whole time we've been here."

     Without turning his head, Sam flicks his eyes to the side, seeing the bar in his periphery. His nostrils flare as he tries to contain a smile. Dean is there.

     "We thought maybe he just thinks you're cute but it's been hours now." Jess, his girlfriend, says from the other side of him.

     "How do you know he's looking at me?" Sam asks unbothered. He wraps an arm around Jess's waist and kisses her cheek before continuing. "Maybe he was looking at the beautiful girl next to me." Despite herself, Jess laughs a little. Matt doesn't find it too funny. 

     "It's definitely you," he reiterates with his big arms crossed over his chest. Sam lifts his eyebrows seeing how genuinely concerned Matt seems. "When you went to the bathroom, he got up and followed you. You didn't see him in there?"

     Sam shakes his head. Dean would never come that close and make it too obvious. Then again, he clearly isn't being very subtle if other people are noticing. Humming, Matt tenses.

     "Want me to tell him to back off?" He asks seriously, making Sam smile.

     "It's fine. He hasn't done anything." Though Sam doesn't mind his brother's antics, Matt and Jess are clearly perturbed at the thought of someone watching him. "Are you guys ready to go then?"

     "Yeah, sure," Jess chirps. They hadn't planned to be out long anyway, so they agree to leave. Matt calls for a cab, and as it pulls away, Sam clasps his hand with Jess's as they begin to walk the few blocks back to their apartment. 

     With one hand busy, he shoves the other into his jacket pocket and fidgets with a loose string. He tries not to be obvious, but every time he passes a window or car mirror, he checks behind them to catch a glance of Dean. By the time he and Jess get home, he still hasn't seen Dean, and he's not disappointed...

     Being chivalrous, he lets Jess into their apartment building first, and if his eyes dart around the street when he closes the door, that's just just to check there's no danger lurking outside. 

     It takes him so long to finally close the door that Jess is already in the bedroom when he locks it. She's waiting for him when he steps into the dimly lit room, sitting almost naked on the close side of the bed. He smiles as he moves towards her, taking her face in his hands and leaning down to kiss her.

     Her leg hooks over Sam's hip as she gently pulls him on top of her as she lies back. He laughs as they fall back. Pushing himself up, he lifts his shirt. Just as it covers his eyes, he notices the curtains are left open, and as his clothes drop to the floor, and his mouth presses against his girlfriend's neck, he can't help but keep an eye on the window, wondering if anyone would climb the fire escape stairs and look through.

I'm just thinking about like Dean after finding out about people writing wincest fanfiction and obviously he acted grossed out because that's how you're supposed to act to finding out that people write porn about you and your brother, but also maybe he stumbles upon a fic someone wrote of Sam harbouring feelings for Dean the whole time and he secretly loves it.

He reads the full 50k+ word fanfiction full of angst and yearning and realizes how badly he wants it to be true. How much he wants Sam to have feelings for him, to have had feelings for him his whole life, and something in his stomach twists.

There's something wrong with him, he knows it. He wants Sam to be dependent on him, to never truly love anyone the way he loves Dean. He wants Sam to want him the way women in bars want him. He wants Sam to want him the way Lisa wanted him. He wants to be everything to Sam.

He reads the words on the screen and reflects it to real life. When Sam looked at Jess the first time, she reminded him of Dean. When Sam kissed her for the first time, he thought of Dean. When Sam fucked her for the first time, he had to bite his tongue to prevent from calling out for Dean.

When Sam saw Dean for the first time in years and he's panting, pinned to the ground beneath his big brother, he got hard. When Sam rolled over on top of Dean, he had to force himself not to grind on him. When Sam stood in front of him, just inches too close for brothers to stand, he wanted to kiss him. When Jess interrupted them, Sam wanted it even more, to show Jess that he belonged to Dean. He always has and always will, and she could never compete with that.

Dean knows he shouldn't, but as he reads, he believes that it's true. This is really how Sam felt this whole time. He's not the only one fucked up this way. Sam yearned for Dean for years after they got back together and the tension finally crescendoed when Sam found out about the deal Dean made for him. He realized Dean loves him more than life itself, would spend an eternity burning in hell just so he could have one more year with his baby brother.

Sam kissed him rough and angry before it quickly fizzled out into desperation and longing. Dean sat down on the bed, pulling Sam to straddle him, and Sam gently pushed him onto his back. He mumbled Dean's name into his mouth and Dean pushed up onto his elbows to get closer. They held each other tightly as they rut against each other until finally, *finally*, they come together with each others names on their tongue in the others mouth.

Dean- real Dean- didn't realize he's been rubbing his hand over his crotch until he's wet and sticky in his pants. He hears Sam's name tumble quietly from his lips, and suddenly his eyes and cheeks burn with shame. He tears his hand away from himself before he even stopped twitching. Closing the browser as fast as he can, he launches himself out of the chair and into the shower, barely remembering to slam the bathroom door shut behind him.

Dean doesn't cry in the shower, the water just runs down his face. He's not red with shame, the water is just really hot. His legs don't buckle under the weight of this disgusting burden he carries, the water just relaxes him to the point of exhaustion. There's nothing wrong with him, the water is washing it away.

Endverse Dean and Stanford Sam this, late season Dean and early season Sam that, they're great okay BUT, for your consideration...

post series Sam (like right after the finale) and pre series Dean (when Sam is at Stanford)

Castiel

Luci <3

HOLY SHIT

I JUST SAW AN IMPALA 67

Sins of the Father - Chapter 2

That Which Holds No Mercy

The bustling noise of the restaurant washed over you as you picked at your dinner, your mind preoccupied with plans and schemes. The food was bland, barely registering on your taste buds, but it was necessary fuel for the tasks ahead. You glanced around the crowded dining room, cataloging exits and potential threats out of habit.

As the meal dragged on, you felt the pressing need for a bathroom break. With a sigh, you pushed back from the table and stood, weaving your way through the maze of chairs and tables. You were so focused on your destination that you didn't notice the broad-shouldered figure stepping into your path until it was too late.

The collision was jarring, nearly knocking you off your feet. Strong hands gripped your arms, steadying you, and you found yourself staring up into a pair of startlingly green eyes. Your breath caught in your throat as recognition hit you like a physical blow.

Dean Winchester.

Every muscle in your body tensed, fight-or-flight instincts screaming at you to act. Your fingers twitched, longing to reach for the concealed blade at your hip. It would be so easy to end it right here, to plunge the knife into his gut and watch the life drain from those green eyes.

But no. Not here. Not now. Not with so many witnesses.

You forced yourself to relax, to adopt a neutral expression as Dean's mouth curved into a flirtatious grin.

"Whoa there, sweetheart," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. "You okay? Didn't mean to bowl you over like that."

You swallowed hard, willing your voice to remain steady. "I'm fine," you managed, taking a step back to put some distance between you. "Just wasn't watching where I was going."

Dean's grin widened, his eyes raking over you in a way that made your skin crawl. "Well, I'm not complaining about the view. How about I buy you a drink to make up for it?"

The urge to vomit warred with the desire to rip his throat out. You settled for an awkward smile, edging around him. "Thanks, but I really need to use the restroom," you muttered, shouldering past him without waiting for a response.

Once safely locked in a bathroom stall, you leaned against the cool metal wall, your heart pounding. That had been too close. You'd nearly blown your cover, nearly ruined everything in a moment of blind rage. You took several deep breaths, forcing yourself to calm down.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, you saw Dean back at his table, deep in conversation with Sam. Your eyes narrowed as you watched them, noting the way Dean kept glancing towards the bathrooms. Had he sensed something off about you?

You couldn't risk staying any longer. Tossing a handful of bills on the counter, you made your way to the exit, resisting the urge to look back. As the cool night air hit your face, you allowed yourself a small sigh of relief. That had been a close call, but you'd managed to keep your cover intact. For now.

Dean Winchester couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled over him since his encounter with the mysterious woman. He sat across from Sam at their table, his food forgotten as he recounted the strange interaction.

"I'm telling you, Sammy," he said, his voice low and intense, "there was something off about her. The way she looked at me… it was like she wanted to tear me apart."

Sam raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression. "You sure you're not just upset because a girl didn't fall for your charms for once?"

Dean shook his head emphatically. "This was different. It was like… like grabbing onto a coiled spring, all tension and potential energy. For a second there, I thought she was gonna lunge at me or something."

As if on cue, the woman in question emerged from the bathrooms. Dean watched as she hastily paid her bill and made a beeline for the exit, her body language screaming discomfort and urgency.

"See that?" Dean muttered, nodding towards the retreating figure. "Tell me that doesn't look suspicious."

Sam frowned, his earlier amusement fading as he observed the woman's hasty departure. "Okay, yeah, that is a bit weird. You think she's connected to our case somehow?"

Dean shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the door. "I don't know, man. But my gut's telling me there's more to her than meets the eye."

As they watched through the window, the woman climbed into a car and sped away. Dean quickly jotted down the license plate number on a napkin, his hunter's instincts kicking into high gear.

"We should look into her," he said, pocketing the napkin. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

Sam nodded, already reaching for his laptop. "Let's head back to the motel. I can run the plates through the system, see what comes up."

The drive back to the motel was quiet, both brothers lost in thought. Dean found himself replaying the encounter over and over in his mind, trying to pinpoint exactly what had set off his internal alarms.

It wasn't just the way she had looked at him, though that had been unsettling enough. It was the way her whole body had seemed to radiate barely contained violence, like a predator forced to play at being prey. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he remembered the flash of… something… he'd seen in her eyes. It had been there and gone in an instant, but it had left him feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet without even knowing it.

As they pulled into the motel parking lot, Dean shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe the stress of the case was getting to him. But deep down, he knew better than to ignore his instincts. They'd saved his life more times than he could count.

Inside their room, they found John stretched out on one of the beds, his face pale and drawn. He cracked open an eye as they entered, managing a weak smile.

"Hey, boys," he croaked. "Any progress on the case?"

Sam shook his head, setting up his laptop on the small table. "Nothing concrete yet. How are you feeling?"

John grimaced. "Like I got hit by a truck. Remind me never to eat at that diner again."

Dean chuckled, though it sounded forced even to his own ears. "Will do, Dad. Get some rest, okay? We've got this covered."

As John drifted back to sleep, Sam pulled up the police database, his fingers flying over the keyboard. Dean hovered over his shoulder, anxiously waiting for results.

"Got it," Sam murmured after a few minutes. "The car's registered to a June L/n." He pulled up a driver's license photo, showing it to Dean. "This her?"

Dean leaned in, studying the image. It showed a woman in her late thirties or early forties, with long dark hair and a familiar set to her jaw. But the eyes were all wrong - warm and inviting, nothing like the cold, angry gaze that had pinned him earlier.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "That's not her. The girl I ran into was younger, maybe late twenties? And her eyes…" He trailed off, unable to put into words the intensity he'd seen in those green orbs.

Sam frowned, scrolling through the file. "Well, there's not much else here. No priors, no outstanding warrants. Looks like a dead end."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "There's gotta be something we're missing. That girl, she's involved in this somehow. I can feel it."

Sam closed the laptop with a sigh. "Look, Dean, I believe you. If you say there was something off about her, I trust your judgment. But right now, we've got nothing concrete to go on. Our best bet is to focus on the case we actually have evidence for."

Dean nodded reluctantly, knowing his brother was right. But as he headed for the shower, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something important. Something that might come back to bite them if they weren't careful.

Under the hot spray of the shower, Dean's mind wandered back to that moment in the restaurant. He could still feel the tension in her body as he'd steadied her, could still see the flash of… recognition? Hatred? He wasn't sure, but it had been intense, whatever it was.

He scrubbed at his skin harder than necessary, as if he could wash away the lingering unease. His instincts had been screaming at him from the moment he'd laid eyes on her, a warning klaxon that he'd learned to trust implicitly over the years. But why? What was it about this woman that had set off every alarm bell in his head?

As he stepped out of the shower and toweled off, Dean caught sight of himself in the foggy mirror. He looked tired, the weight of too many hunts and too little rest etched into the lines around his eyes. But beyond that, he looked… unsettled. Like he'd glimpsed something he wasn't meant to see, something that had shaken his understanding of the world.

Pulling on a clean t-shirt and sweats, Dean emerged from the bathroom to find Sam already asleep, his long frame sprawled across one of the beds. John was still out cold on the other, leaving Dean to settle onto the small couch in the corner of the room.

As he lay there in the darkness, listening to the soft sounds of his family's breathing, Dean couldn't stop his mind from racing. He kept seeing those green eyes, filled with a rage so potent it had nearly knocked him off his feet. Who was she? What was her connection to their case? And why couldn't he shake the feeling that they'd just stumbled onto something much bigger and more dangerous than they'd bargained for?

Sleep was a long time coming that night, and when it finally did claim him, Dean's dreams were filled with flashes of green eyes and the unmistakable sense of being hunted.

The harsh light of dawn was just beginning to creep through the threadbare motel curtains when Dean was jolted awake by a rough hand shaking his shoulder. He blinked groggily, his mind still foggy with sleep, to find John looming over him, face grim and etched with worry.

"Dean, get up," John barked, already moving to shake Sam awake as well. "We've got a situation."

Dean sat up, instantly alert despite the lingering exhaustion. "What's going on, Dad?"

John's expression was grave as he met his son's eyes. "The case has escalated. Severely. Seven victims last night."

"Seven?" Dean echoed, disbelief coloring his tone. "What the hell?"

Sam emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower, his expression mirroring Dean's shock as he caught the tail end of the conversation. "Did you say seven victims?" he asked, reaching for his clothes and dressing quickly.

John nodded, his jaw set in a hard line. "Found in the public park about an hour ago. We need to move, now."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He threw on his clothes, mind racing as he tried to process this new development. Seven victims in one night was a massive escalation from the previous pattern. Something had changed, and not for the better.

Within minutes, the three Winchesters were piling into the Impala, the car's engine roaring to life as Dean peeled out of the motel parking lot. The drive to the crime scene was tense, each man lost in his own thoughts about what they might find.

As they approached the park, it was clear that this was no ordinary crime scene. Police cars and ambulances crowded the area, their lights casting eerie red and blue shadows in the early morning light. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off a large section of the park, and grim-faced officers milled about, their expressions a mix of shock and barely contained nausea.

The Winchesters flashed their fake badges, ducking under the tape and making their way towards the center of the activity. What they found there made even their seasoned stomachs turn.

The bodies were strewn across the grass, limbs bent at unnatural angles, faces frozen in expressions of terror. But it was the sheer brutality of the attacks that stood out. Unlike the previous victims, whose deaths had been swift and almost clinical, these bodies showed signs of prolonged, savage violence.

"Jesus," Sam muttered, his face pale as he surveyed the scene. "This is… different."

Dean nodded, crouching down to examine the nearest body. "Yeah, no kidding. Look at this, Dad. It's like whoever did this was…"

"Blowing off steam," John finished, his eyes narrowing as he took in the carnage. "This isn't calculated like the others. This is rage, pure and simple."

As they moved through the crime scene, cataloging details and searching for any signs of supernatural involvement, a commotion near the edge of the tape caught their attention. An officer was speaking to a distraught-looking elderly man, who was gesticulating wildly as he spoke.

"We've got a witness," Sam murmured, nodding towards the pair.

John straightened up, his expression sharpening. "You two finish up here. I'll go see what he has to say."

As John made his way over to the witness, Dean and Sam continued their examination of the scene. It was Dean who spotted it first - a glint of metal protruding from one of the victim's bodies.

"Sammy, check this out," he called, gesturing his brother over.

Sam crouched down beside him, eyes widening as he saw what Dean was pointing at. "Is that…?"

"A weapon," Dean confirmed, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Looks like our perp got sloppy."

Before they could examine it further, John returned, his expression troubled. "Witness is blind," he reported in a low voice. "Didn't see anything, but he heard it all. Says it happened just a few hours ago, around 3 AM. He was out for a late-night walk when he heard screaming and… other noises."

"What kind of other noises?" Sam pressed.

John shook his head. "He's pretty shaken up, couldn't give me many details. Said it sounded like animals fighting, but also… not. Mentioned hearing something that sounded like laughter at one point, but he's not sure."

Dean frowned, processing this new information. "So we've got a killer who leaves no traces for days, then suddenly loses it and leaves behind both a weapon and a witness? Something doesn't add up."

"Maybe they're devolving," Sam suggested. "Losing control, getting sloppy."

"Or maybe they wanted us to find this," John mused, gesturing to the weapon still embedded in the victim. "Could be a message of some kind."

The three men fell silent, each lost in thought as they tried to make sense of the conflicting evidence before them. Finally, Dean spoke up, voicing the question they were all thinking.

"So what the hell are we dealing with here? It's not werewolves - wrong lunar cycle, plus the wounds don't match. Can't be vampires, there's too much blood left behind. And I've never seen a witch work like this."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. "I don't know, man. This doesn't fit any pattern I've ever seen before. It's like… it's like we're dealing with something entirely new."

John's expression was grim as he surveyed the carnage around them. "Whatever it is, we need to stop it. Fast. Before anyone else gets hurt."

With that sobering thought hanging in the air, the Winchesters finished their examination of the crime scene. They spoke briefly with the lead detective, offering their "expertise" and promising to keep in touch as the investigation progressed.

The drive back to the motel was subdued, each man lost in his own thoughts about what they'd witnessed. Dean's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as he replayed the gruesome scene in his mind. Something about this case was getting under his skin in a way he couldn't quite explain.

As they pulled into the motel parking lot, Sam broke the silence. "So, what's our next move? We've got more questions than answers at this point."

John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "We need to regroup, go over everything we know. There's got to be something we're missing, some connection we haven't made yet."

Back in the cramped motel room, the Winchesters spread out their notes and evidence photos, creating a makeshift investigation board on one of the walls. Dean paced back and forth, unable to shake the restless energy that had been building since they'd left the crime scene.

"Okay, let's break this down," Sam said, taking charge of organizing their information. "We've got two distinct patterns here. The first set of victims - controlled, almost ritualistic killings. Symbols carved into the bodies, minimal blood spatter. Then we've got last night's victims - brutal, messy, signs of prolonged violence."

John nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Two different killers, maybe? Working together?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't buy it. The timing's too convenient. This has to be the same person… or thing." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "What if… what if we're dealing with something that can change forms? Like a shifter, but different?"

Sam considered this, tapping his pen against his chin. "It's possible. That could explain the drastic change in MO. But why the escalation? What triggered it?"

As his family continued to theorize, Dean found his mind wandering back to the woman from the restaurant. The intensity in her eyes, the barely contained violence he'd sensed… Could there be a connection? He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. They had no evidence linking her to the crimes, just his gut feeling.

"Dean? You with us?" John's voice cut through his musings.

Dean blinked, refocusing on the conversation. "Yeah, sorry. Just trying to piece it all together."

John's expression softened slightly. "I know, son. This one's a tough nut to crack. But we'll figure it out. We always do."

As the day wore on, the Winchesters pored over their evidence, making calls to contacts and scouring ancient texts for any clues about what they might be facing. But with each dead end, each fruitless lead, the frustration in the room grew palpable.

By the time night fell, they were no closer to answers than they had been that morning. Dean found himself standing at the window, staring out at the darkened parking lot, his mind a whirlwind of half-formed theories and nagging doubts.

"We're missing something," he muttered, more to himself than the others. "Something big."

Sam looked up from his laptop, exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders. "Maybe we need to take a step back, look at this from a different angle."

John, who had been cleaning weapons to keep his hands busy, set down the gun he'd been working on. "You boys should get some rest. Fresh eyes in the morning might help us see what we're missing."

Dean wanted to argue, to insist that they keep working, but he knew his father was right. They were all running on fumes, and mistakes got people killed in their line of work. With a reluctant nod, he moved away from the window.

Dean couldn't shake the feeling that they were running out of time as he settled onto the lumpy motel mattress. Whatever was stalking this town, whatever had left those bodies in the park, it wasn't done. And next time, they might not be so lucky as to find evidence left behind.

Sleep was a long time coming, and when it finally did claim him, Dean's dreams were a confusing jumble of blood-soaked grass, gleaming blades, and a pair of haunting green eyes that seemed to see right through him.

THiTR SPNAU

¹Grymmid!Dean holds a special place in my heart like- 

He’s so fun to write about!

Like he turns into a Boelen Python², which is fucking huge btw, and it totally freaks out Sam the first time he sees him shift, bc ‘wholly shit that is a bigass snake’.

But it’s just Dean with that derpy little look pythons have. And Zephyr eats it UP. Even though Grimics are reclusive (which makes Grymmids exceedingly rare), they know that as a species they are hardly likely to attack.

That's not to say he's not badass- bc he totally is!

Despite his derpy little face, he is a deadly efficient hunter, doubly so in his snake form.

He can hear demons from miles away due to low vibrations they emit. Angels emit higher vibrations, but they are strong, and it rattles his bones in a way that is most uncomfortable.

Regular monsters are no match for Dean, bc his reflexes are as quick as a pythons' and his grip is near impossible to escape with the way he constricts.

He also brunates!

When fall begins, he starts sleeping longer and deeper, depending on where in the USA they are. By November, he's waking up less, but a few hours can be coaxed out of him if they bury him in blankets and warm clothes.

And by the time December rolls around he only wakes up once every 48-36 hours to sip some water before falling back asleep.

Sam absolutely loses it the first time it happens, despite both Dean and Zephyr saying that it'll be over when the weather warms up.

Speaking of angels; let's mention one of our favorites: Cas!

While he doesn't get the chance to raise Dean from hell, he does get to meet the Winchesters and Zephyr.

Heaven sends him to spy on the brothers and help figure out what went wrong and how to get things Back On Track.

Zephyr and Sam are immediately suspicious of this rookie hunter that no one's heard of wanting to join them but Dean? Dean is takes to him instantly.

Ofc, it's just before brumation, so Sam sends him up to Bobby's so Cas doesn't notice him sleeping like the almost-dead all winter. The moment the frost melts, Dean is raring to go, and totally not because he's looking forward to see Cas again, nope!

Sam and Zephyr still don't trust him that much, but Dean still likes him just as much as he did before brumating, if not a little more.

As Dean sees it, Cas is warm like a perfect rock to sun on, he tastes like thunderstorms, and his voice is the most perfect thing he's ever heard. Who cares that he's probably a spy?

This leaves Zephyr and Sam baffled, because loverboy and Dean just don't correlate well together. It's to the point that Zeph flies back to Fearielynd just to ask the few Grymmids what is going on. (It's a Grimic thing)

Gabriel also gets to meet Dean, but his experience isn't as fun as Cas's.

The moment they get to the same town the trickster's in, Dean just shifts (higher ranking angels are loud, which gives humunoid!Dean headaches) without an explanation.

Poor Gabe gets his own just desserts from the 8 foot long python in the form of tricks and scares.

¹ Grymmids are half Grimic (a creature I created) and you can read about them here:

Patreon

Fyren Lore | Morningstar_arts on Patreon

Official Post from Morningstar_arts

² Grimics look like snakes and function similarly, so I use snake terminology.

(for reference)

Time travel fix-it

As we all know, Grymmid!Dean is my bby

I love his story so much... but I'm curious about writing an au..

Like he wakes up in 2008, alone, and when he gets his bearings, he finds out that Sam is a junkie, John is in hell, Zephyr doesn't exist (but Fearielynd does?), and worst of all, Castiel doesn't seem to be interested in befriending him!

Oh, and apparently the Dean in this strange world is dead and when Heaven finds out they want him to stand in?

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Dean Winchester Prompt Response

Summary: When Sam calls to tell you that Dean is gone, you can't accept it. Not until you visit the offline Bunker and see for yourself. ...But is he really gone?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader; Dean Winchester x Huntress!Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. I had this idea for a scene in my head that took place during 15x20 with the reader and Sam & then from there it just kind of wrote itself, including the semi-twist. Hope it's okay.

There is a song mentioned in here ("Is This Love" by Whitesnake) which is a sort of homage/dedication/thank you. I read this Dean x Reader fic a long time ago (I can't remember the name of the fic or the author right now, I'm sorry!) but they used the song for some Dean/Reader time in the Impala and I had never heard the song before so I checked it out. I have become obsessed with it. It's so perfect, not only for Dean but in general as an 80s love rock ballad. So thank you to that author whoever you are!

This is meant to take place between mid-15x20 and Dean's foray in The Winchesters (pre-series).

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: angst; mentions of character death; mentions of implied sex

Word Count: 12k+

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Dean Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Beau version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Tom version ✨ Jason version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Alex version

You sat on the corner of the bed in your motel room, numb, your phone next to you, having been forgotten long ago. 

It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t. You refused to believe it. How was Dean just gone? On a simple hunt? How?

Sam had called you to give you the news. You could hear the breaks in his voice as he relayed what happened, sounding as if he had been crying just a few minutes before. Vampires. Who were mute. A gang of them run by a vampire named Jenny they had faced off with years ago. On a hunt with John. She had gotten away and they thought she was gone for good. Apparently not.

You were frozen, in shock, unable to process what he was telling you. 

“Y/N?”

“I… I need to see him,” you whispered.

Sam was quiet for a moment before he forced out, “I gave him a hunter’s funeral.”

You shut your eyes in pain. “What?” You could feel your throat tightening as well as your chest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I had to. I couldn’t…” You heard him take a breath. “I couldn’t make the long drive with… I just couldn’t.” You could hear those breaks again and you should have been hurting for him, that not only did he have to watch his brother die but he’d had to burn him alone. But right then you got angry and you couldn’t help snapping at him.

“Why would you burn his body, Sam? You know we need his body to bring him back!”

“Y/N, he didn’t want to be brought back.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yeah, I do. He told me right before he died. As long as I was going to be okay,” Another break. “He was done.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and regret immediately consumed you. You knew Sam was telling you the truth. Dean making sure Sam would be okay as he was dying clinched it for you. Sam had always been his main concern. You started mentally berating yourself then. If only you hadn’t let fear stop you, you could have given him something to live for, to fight for. He would have let Sam call for help, call Jack, something. He would have made sure he somehow made it home, just like he always did. But you didn’t and now, he was gone. Truly and irrevocably gone.

Another tear slipped down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away. “I have to go, Sam.”

“Y/N, I—”

You ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. You weren’t trying to be heartless. Sam was obviously struggling and you should be there for him. That’s what Dean would want, you knew that. The two of you being there for each other, helping one another, you looking after his little brother while he looked out for you. But you just…couldn’t.

Why hadn’t you called Dean? After everything that went down with Chuck and Jack? Why hadn’t you reached out? You owed him that at the very least. So why hadn’t you?

You knew the answer to that. You were scared and like a coward, you’d told yourself it wouldn’t have made a difference. It wouldn’t have changed anything. But a part of you knew it would and that scared you just as much.

You thought back to the last time you’d seen him, right after he and Sam went to try to get Amara on board against Chuck. He was still reeling with the news that Cas had told him before he’d left, that Jack was going to sacrifice himself to kill Chuck. He cared about Jack, more than he let on, even though the kid had accidentally killed Mary. Jack was family to him and he was having a serious moment of doubt. If Jack’s plan would work; if he should let it happen; if he should tell Sam; if Chuck hadn’t been right, he would win in the end. He was so beyond tired of that: Chuck winning. He didn’t want to sacrifice Jack but if they could be free of Chuck and have a chance… 

He was torn up about it and he’d called you, asked you where you were, then begged you to come to the Bunker when he found out you were only an hour or so away. You hadn’t wanted to, you could hear the desperation in his voice and you knew all too well what would happen if you went. You were still hurting and you didn’t know if you could survive that. 

You didn’t bother telling him that the reason you were an hour outside of town was because you’d temporarily settled there, not sure where to go or what to do. Sure, you took on hunts here and there, but ultimately you were lost. Ever since Dean broke things off with you because he couldn’t tell what was real anymore versus what had been Chuck all along. The breakup had hurt, of course, but that caused pain in you that you weren’t really sure you would ever come back from. Him thinking everything between you might not be real? After you’d given him everything you could because you deeply loved him? In your heart, you knew it was real, but when you had said this to him, he’d simply responded with “I don’t” in his typical detached way he adopted whenever he had made up his mind that he had to do something for the greater good, no matter how hard it might be. You thought he had already broken your heart, but it shattered right then in your chest.

Since it was Dean, though, and he never begged, you went. And sure enough, what you worried would happen, happened. One minute, you’d been wiping the rare tears he let fall around you, and the next minute, he was kissing you and gently pushing you back onto his bed. You could feel the desperation in his movements, his touches, the way his lips trailed over your skin. Shockingly, he took his time with you, and it only hit you halfway through that this was his real goodbye. It wasn’t guaranteed that Billie’s plan would work but he hoped it would. And if it did, then that meant he and Sam would finally be free and they could hang it up if they wanted to, do something else with their lives and move on. And that possible future didn’t include you. 

You’d silently cried then, holding onto Dean as he moved and moaned into your ear. When he pulled back to kiss you, your cheeks were free of any tear tracks and you kissed him back. You wondered how on earth he couldn’t feel that this was very real between you as you moved your hips to meet his in a tender rhythm as he held you in his lap, his green eyes staring into yours as he held you close. Sex was sex but this right here, this right in between you right then that he refused to put a name to, it was beyond real. You knew he could feel it just as much as you could…so why was he still hellbent on throwing it (and you) away?

A little while later, you had laid there, with his head on your chest, running your fingers through his hair in soothing strokes, his body still entangled with yours, staring up at the ceiling as you both were still trying to catch your breath. Your heart spoke for you before you could stop it. “I love you,” you whispered, meaning it with every fiber of your being.

It shocked the hell out of you and made something warm and fluttery happen inside your chest when he sleepily murmured to your skin, “Love y’too. Don’go.” You ended up chalking it up to him being in a post-sex sleep daze though, not knowing what he was really saying or even really having heard you correctly. That or he only meant for the night because the very next morning, things went back to how they were.

Dean seemed surprised when he woke up to find you next to him, scrolling through the news feed on your phone for any new cases. You’d given him a warm smile. “Hey, sleepyhead,” you teased.

Instead of smiling back, though, he cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Hey.” You could see that familiar detached expression settle on his features and you knew he was regretting the night before. He had been drinking by the time you got there, sure, but he hadn’t been inebriated. He was incredibly lucid by the time he made a move on you so try as he might, this couldn’t be chalked up to a drunken mistake.

You could literally feel that wall going back up and you gave one last ditch effort to keep him from shutting you back out, even laying a hand over his. “Dean, don’t—”

He pulled away from you and got out of bed, quickly slipping on his Scooby Doo boxers and jeans that he grabbed from the floor. You might have smiled seeing the familiar underwear that you hated but secretly loved if you weren’t hurting so much. “I’m hungry. You hungry?” He asked, slipping a black t-shirt over his head. “I’ll go see if Sam’s cooking anything up. I need a serious cup of coffee. You just…” He glanced back at you, seeing you holding the sheet tightly to your chest as you watched him, compulsively swallowing when he saw your eyes glistening. “You, uh, just come out when you’re ready.” He then made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him and never looking back. 

You sat back against the headboard, dissolving into a fit of tears and quiet sobs. You knew you should have never come. Once you were able to breathe without fresh tears welling up, you got yourself cleaned up and redressed. You splashed some water on your face and you took a deep breath before leaving the room. You were near the bunker stairs when Sam called out to you.

“Hey! Y/N!” 

He was coming over to you, a big smile on his face. He was pleased to see you.

“Hey,” you greeted back just as warmly, forcing a smile.

He gave you a quick hug and you could see Jack a little ways behind him, giving you a smile and wave. “I didn’t know you were here. We were just about to have breakfast. Why don’t you join us?”       

“Oh, I…”

You were saved from having to make an excuse when Dean appeared next to Jack, his expression severe and cold all at the same time. “She’s got a hunt she’s heading out for. Possible vamp nest in Duluth. Right, Y/N?”

Just when you thought he couldn’t hurt you even more, there he went proving you wrong. “Right,” you agreed quietly. You turned a wan smile onto Sam. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

“Duluth?” Sam glanced from his brother to you. “Maybe we can give you a hand on this one.”

“We can’t,” Dean stated firmly. He gave his brother a look and Sam’s brows furrowed before realization played upon his features and his jaw tightened. He turned apologetic hazel eyes onto you. “Donna’s up that way. If she needs a hand, she can call her,” Dean added.

You felt sick to your stomach. Obviously, you weren’t heading to Duluth or anywhere near Minnesota but the way he dismissed you so casually…the pain was overwhelming. The smile you kept on Sam turned into more of a grimace. “I appreciate the offer, Sam, but I’m good. Like your brother said, I can call Donna if I need anything. Don’t worry. Thanks, though.” You squeezed his arm and then turned to make your way up the stairs.

“Best of luck,” Dean gruffed out. You turned to see pure ice staring back at you. 

You pressed your lips together to keep from falling apart right there, from demanding why Dean had obviously only called you for sex and a pick-me-up when there plenty of women in Lebanon that could do that for him, from begging him to wake up and see you were right in front of him and that what you had was very much real before it was too late. Instead, you continued climbing the stairs. 

“Keep us updated and give us a call if you need anything,” Sam called after you.

“Will do,” you forced out.

“Good luck,” Jack offered.

When you reached the top, you glanced once more at Dean. His expression hadn’t changed one bit. The green gaze staring back at you was cold, hard. You let out a huff and shook your head, turning to open the door and close it behind you. That had been the very last time you saw him.

After that, you went back to the motel you had been renting a room in, packed up, and headed across state lines. You ignored Dean’s calls but took Sam’s. 

Apparently, at some point, you had vanished when Chuck disappeared everyone. You had no idea until Donna filled you in. That explained the several missed calls from both Sam and Dean and the voicemails they left. Both had sounded desperate, especially Dean. 

“Please, Y/N. I know you’re pissed at me and I get it but please call me back. Or call Sam. I don’t care. Just as long as we know you’re still with us and that you’re okay.” His tone sounded rough around the edges but considering the context Sam gave you when you did call him (there was no way you were calling Dean, especially not now), you realized they were just desperate to get in touch with anyone, having lost Cas and being the only three forms of life left on the planet.

Dean was right, you were angry. Angry that he’d used you that night, angry that he’d broken your heart in the first place. He had pursued you before you got together, not the other way around. By the time you let your guard down enough to let him in and things kicked off between you, he was deep in. Or so he’d said. By the time he ended things, you were deep in yourself. Now…now you were in even deeper thanks to him, so deep you were pretty sure Dean would haunt you the rest of your life no matter how you tried to shut him out of your heart.

Another tear rolled down your cheek. Though, you’d never meant the word haunt literally.

You wiped your face with your sleeve and let out an aggravated breath before getting to your feet. You grabbed your coat, your emergency bag, your hunting bag, and the car keys from the table near the door. You locked up and got into the car you only used for hunts and grocery trips now, starting it and backing out of the driveway. 

It’s not that you doubted what Sam had told you or Sam himself, but you needed to see things for yourself. You turned the car in the direction that would lead you to Kansas.

You opened the door to the Bunker, seeing nothing but darkness greeting you, the clanking of the door being the only sound to echo in the large chamber. That was strange. They never shut it down when they left for hunts. You hit the lights and hearing a loud thrumming sound, you watched as they came back on, one by one. You had your own key since you were also a Legacy. You’d never been more thankful for that fact when you arrived to find the Bunker locked down, no Sam in sight.

You shut the door behind you and dropped your bags near the table. You bit your lip to keep your eyes from welling up when you noticed an unfinished chess game on the table, most likely one that Dean and Cas had been engaged in, but now neither of them would be back to complete it. Instead, you focused on the matter at hand. You pulled your gun out and an angel blade, slipping the latter into your coat pocket in case you needed it. In the other pocket, you slipped a flask of holy water and a small piece of iron bar you could wield if need be. In your gun sat silver bullets; you couldn’t be too careful nowadays. Especially if the word was out to the world of the supernatural that Dean Winchester was gone and only Sam was left now, alone. 

You slowly made your way down the stairs, listening intently for any other noises you might hear. All that you could make out besides your footsteps was the low hum of electricity that was commonplace for the old bunker. You cleared the library, the hallways, the kitchen, the shower room, the infirmary, the Dean Cave where you’d been forced to watch The Lost Boys and slasher films more times than you cared to count (you had dug your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from crying when you saw the DVD cover of Tombstone left near the TV), every single room in the place until you came to the one that made a lump form in your throat. You swallowed it back down and forced yourself to focus, raising your gun that much higher. You opened the door and hit the lights, scanning every which way. The room was clear.

You lowered your gun and made your way inside, the lump in your throat back again. Your eyes roamed over the hastily made bed; the empty dog bowls on the floor (which made your brows furrow in confusion slightly); the messy desk; the empty beer bottles on the table; the headphones on the nightstand; the shotguns on the wall; the books scattered about; the load of laundry sitting off to the right in a corner. Memories washed over you and your eyes began to sting as tears welled up. 

You’d walked into the room to find Dean jamming out on his bed, listening to music through the headphones he’d insisted on buying on your last trip. You huffed out a laugh and dropped the laundry basket of folded clothes onto the bed, garnering his attention. 

He opened his eyes and glanced up to find you smiling at him. 

“What are you listening to?”

He held one of the phones away from his ear and you could hear some serious strumming of heavy metal guitar coming out of it. “Huh?”

“I said, what are you listening to?” You asked a little louder.

“What?” He nearly yelled.

You picked up the top item from your pile, his Scooby Doo underthings, and playfully tossed it at him. It landed squarely on his chest and he immediately jumped up as if it had burned him, his cheeks turning redder by the second as he threw the headphones onto the bed.

“You did my laundry?” He asked in horror.

Amazing. You two had explored every single inch of each other time and time again, been sort of rooming together for the past month, but he was embarrassed that you washed his dirty underwear?

You shrugged and began to place his folded clothes on the bed. “I had room in the washer so I figured I’d grab yours, too. You’re welcome.”

“You washed our clothes together?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

You gasped and gave him a mock look of horror. “Oh no, not together.” You tossed a pair of jeans over at him and he caught it in time. “I used detergent, fabric softener, dryer sheets, and everything,” you teased. “But putting it away is where I draw the line, pal. That’s on you.” You pointed to the neat pile sitting on the bed before moving over to the door to head to the room you kept your things in down the hall. 

Arms wrapped around you from behind, stopping your trek, and Dean murmured into your ear, “You washed my clothes for me?”

“And folded, too,” you pointed out. “Don’t forget that.”

“Mmm, what else can I get you to do for me?” He grabbed the basket from you and placed it down before gripping your hips and moving in to kiss your neck.

“Hey, I’m not your maid. I had room in the washer, that was it. Don’t get used to this,” you laughed before digging your teeth into your lip when you felt his tongue on a particular part of your skin. 

“What if I want to get used to this?” He moved up to your jaw line.

“I’d say you’re SOL. Unless…”

“Unless?” He hummed near your lips.

“Unless you finally let me tidy up this room a little.”

His head shot up, frowning down at you. “What? Why, what’s wrong with how it is now?”

“Well,” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Some of these papers on the desk need organizing, the books can be put in a stack on the table over there, these empty beer bottles can be thrown out, the shotguns you have near the bed can be put away…”

“There’s nothing wrong with anything you just mentioned,” he grumbled.

“Oh, really? So the other night when you were doing that thing—”

“That thing you really like,” he interrupted, smirking cockily at you.

You had to keep from rolling your eyes and smirking yourself. “When I moved, I knocked into the shotgun and it fell. It almost went off. You remember that?”

“Nothing happened or went off, well, except you.” His smirk got even bigger. “You remember that?”

This time you gently swatted at his shoulder. “Dean.”

He heard the warning in your no-nonsense tone and laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “Alright,” he whispered to your lips. “I’ll put the shotguns up out of the way. But everything else stays.”

You huffed out an exasperated breath. One of these days when he wasn’t looking, you swore you’d do as exactly as you’d suggested. Clear out the empty bottles and stack the books at the very least. 

“Hey, it’s all about compromise, right? Speaking of that,” He turned you around in his arms and you were once again facing the laundry basket he’d left on the floor. “Find a space and keep some of ‘em in here.”

A pleasant shock ran through you. “Are you sure?” You whispered.

He slowly turned you back around and gently cupped your chin. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m sure. You’re practically sleeping in here every night, anyway. I’d rather you not have to put back on the same clothes from the night before or walk naked down to your room. Then again, naked…”

You glared up at him, making him chuckle and brush his lips against yours. “I just didn’t want to crowd you,” you admitted after a moment. “It’s your space. If I’m in here too much, I can—”

 “I want you here.” You gazed into his green eyes, unsure, but all you saw staring back at you was softness with a glint of earnestness. He was telling you the truth; he really wanted you to stay. 

“Okay,” you agreed with a shy smile.

He beamed at you and then picked you up, making you gasp loudly and wrap your legs around his waist. “Not that you’re gonna be needing them right now.”

You shook your head and kissed him as he walked you both towards the bed. When he had you on it, you could hear the music coming from the forgotten headphones. “Is that…Whitesnake?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Uh huh. One sec.” He reached over, quickly clicked something on his phone, and the music suddenly changed. You smiled when a familiar song started up.

“Really?”

“What? It’s our song.”

You framed his face with your hands, looking up at him affectionately. “Dean Winchester, secretly sentimental and sensitive guy extraordinaire,” you teased him.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “I’m not any of that crap. It’s the first song we made good use of Baby’s backseat to, that’s all. Now that you’re staying in here, we gotta celebrate.”

Romantic. You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Like I said, sentimental.” You pulled him down to you and kissed him sweetly. Needless to say, he had been right; you hadn’t needed your clothes for a little while.

You took in a ragged breath, your fingers gently touching over the papers on his desk. While you hated the empty beer bottles and you didn’t want to end up possibly shot with a salt round during a passionate moment of sex, you really hadn’t minded how he had things. You knew this was the first home he and Sam ever really had. He could keep things messy or disorganized if he wanted to; he had more than earned the right. It might sound silly to someone else but he deserved to experience living in a home, mess and all, like everyone did at some point in their lives. Not only did he not have a place to do that since he’d been four years old, he’d never felt comfortably settled in anywhere ever to be able to do it. You remembered him and Sam telling you how long it had taken Dean to settle into this room, to think of the Bunker as not just theirs but home. You’d kick the crap out of anyone who tried to take that away from him, and you would be the last person to try to do it yourself. You still thanked him when he hung the shotguns up on the wall; you were beyond grateful. That time, he was the one who went off and quite happily.

A sob nearly tore its way out of your chest when you saw his handwriting on one of the papers. Your fingertips traced each letter. How could he really be gone?

You ran your fingers over an open file, wondering what he had been looking at, when you heard the clicking of nails on the floor behind you. You spun, lifting your gun, to find Sam standing in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes as a dog appeared beside him. That must have been what you’d heard. You lowered the gun and let out a relieved breath. “What are you doing here?”

You winced internally at your question. He had every right to be here, this was his home. You were the intruder.

“The monitoring system we set up… I was alerted that someone was in the Bunker. I locked it down and I know only he and I had the keys, so I didn’t know if…” You watched as he compulsively swallowed.

You turned back to the desk. “I get that. Where were you, by the way? Why did you lock it down?” He didn’t answer for a moment when you glanced over your shoulder at him, seeing his gaze glued to the ground. “Sam?”

His eyes flicked up to yours and he swallowed again. “I was on my way to Austin. For a case. But then…” He gestured towards you. “I turned around and headed back to see.” You noticed he didn’t mention why he had locked the Bunker down but then again, he didn’t really need to. Who else would be coming here now that Dean, Cas, and Jack were gone? Mary was gone as well as most of the other hunters you’d worked with over the past couple of years. Apocalypse World Bobby was still up in Minnesota somewhere. Apocalypse World Charlie and Stevie had moved East, choosing to retire after what happened with Chuck temporarily disappearing everyone. Garth and Bess still lived in their home with their family. Jody and the girls had their own operation up in Sioux Falls with Donna lending a hand every now and then. And you…well, you never told Sam where you were. 

You gave him a slow nod and dropped your eyes back down to the desk, running your fingers over the pages of an open lore book Dean had been reading. It was probably ridiculous but you thought maybe you could somehow still feel him here (though you did not want him to be a ghost), that perhaps by touch or sight or smell even that you could somehow connect to what his last days had been like. You wondered if he somehow knew deep down or if he hadn’t seen it coming. Even though he had always told you that he didn’t see a good ending for himself down the road, that he was forever bound to this life, you knew he also secretly fantasized about his life going in a different direction, one he’d included you in once upon a time. You then wondered if there was a girl somewhere who was either waiting for a phone call she would never get or was crying her eyes out because Sam had given her the news like he had you. It hurt to think that maybe he had found someone that he envisioned another future with instead of you, with someone he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Chuck hadn’t inserted into his life as a manipulation or a story device. Someone that he didn’t question what he had with them, if it was real. Though at the same time, you hoped he found a little piece of happiness. You still loved him enough to want that for him.

You briefly closed your eyes in pain when you remembered that last night you spent with him, telling him you loved him. You truly meant it and even though he hurt you again and again, you still did. You forced the thought away and instead chose to focus on the open book in front of you. “What was he working on?” You choked out, quietly clearing your throat once you heard how rough your voice sounded.

You turned the page, seeing mentions of witches and vampires, when you realized Sam never answered you. You glanced back at him, arching your brows in question.

Sam’s eyes were wide and laser focused on your body, his mouth hanging open. Shit.

You should’ve known that despite the dark clothing you were wearing, the long black coat you were sporting, turning away from him, that you wouldn’t be able to hide your secret much longer. Truthfully, it wasn’t even something you’d thought about when you set out for the bunker. Had Sam been here when you arrived, he probably would have seen it then.

You turned towards the younger Winchester and Sam’s eyes flickered up to you. “Are you…?”

“Yes, Sam.”

Sam closed his mouth and swallowed, glancing back and forth between you and your protruding belly. You read the clear question in his eyes that he was burning to ask.  

“You’re going to be an uncle.”

Except the few times he’d been close to death, you’d never seen Sam look so pale.

You and Sam sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, Miracle (as you’d come to find out was the dog’s name) laid at your feet, his head on his paws.

“How?” Sam finally asked you.

You snorted in amusement. “You know how.”

“No, I mean… Why didn’t you tell Dean? Did you tell Dean? Because he didn’t tell me and I don’t think that’s something he wouldn’t have told me.”

You wet your lips with your tongue, feeling the heavy weight of guilt and sadness wrap around you once more. “No. I didn’t tell him,” you whispered. It was now the biggest regret of your life, right before the second biggest one of you walking out of the bunker the morning you’d last seen him and not fighting harder to get him to let you back in.

“Were you ever going to?”

Your eyes snapped to Sam at the judgment clear as day in his tone and they narrowed. “No, I wasn’t. He made it pretty clear he wanted nothing more to do with me or anything related to me. So, no, Sam, I wasn’t,” you snapped.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down at his lap.

You turned your gaze forward again, taking a breath to tamp down the familiar anger and resentment that you’d worked so hard to try to let go of. After a moment, you rubbed at your forehead. “Yes,” you muttered. “I don’t know. I think so…”

Sam stayed quiet and let you sort through your thoughts which you were grateful for. You’d been caught completely off guard by the pregnancy yourself. When you found out, you thought back to how you unwisely didn’t take your usual precautions and since you and Dean had broken up long before that, you hadn’t been too concerned with maintaining your birth control. 

You’d thought over your options. Bringing a kid into the hunting lifestyle was the worst thing you could do to it. Dean and Sam were living proof. Their mom herself had known it which was why she tried to get out when she married their dad. Not to mention, it would make you vulnerable in your line of work and the kid would always be in danger, always have a target on its back. Plus, you were pretty sure that even if you told Dean, he’d be less than thrilled. He always told you he didn’t want kids, for the very reasons you were now facing. And did you really want to bring a kid into the world that Chuck was about to end, only to have a father who was dismissive of it, or even hated it? You didn’t think Dean would be capable, he’d been great with Jack and Ben after all, but this was different. This kid would have his blood, his genes, would look like him somewhat. Sure, he had that in Emma once and that had torn him up, but this would also be different. This was for the long haul. And that’s only if he even wanted to be in this kid’s life. Which he might opt not to. How could you do that to your child? So you considered choosing to end the pregnancy, which would have been a true mercy given everything stacked against it before it would be born, but eventually you decided otherwise. 

You’d heard the baby’s heartbeat on a checkup while you were still mulling it over, and that was it. Dean wanted to know if what you had was real or not? Here it was, its little heart thumping away deep within your body. After that visit, you’d decided the hell with it. You were someone who believed everything happened for a reason, well before things with Chuck went bad though you still operated on this age-old belief most of the time. You were having a kid, one who would be half of you and half of Dean, the love of your life for all intents and purposes. Though it had hurt when he dismissed you that morning, perhaps this had been the reason why he called you out of the blue, wanting you to come to him, and why you went despite knowing what would most likely happen and how much pain it would cause you.

So you made a decision to start pulling out of hunting. Donna rented her family cabin in Hibbing to you. Bobby hadn’t been back since Mary died so it was sitting empty and unused. You hid the pregnancy as best you could but ultimately, once the first trimester was over and you had popped, you couldn’t hide it anymore. Donna found out though she never knew who the father was. She didn’t pry which you appreciated. When she called you to warn you that Billie was making people disappear left and right, a familiar fear clawed at your chest. Not only fear for your child but also the fear of what if Dean found out about it. That was the only thing that kept you from offering to come down to Kansas to help. 

“We’re going into some place warded to protect us. You should do the same. I can send you pictures of the sigils they’re using.”

“Okay, thanks. Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Yeah, don’t you worry. We’ll figure this out. You just stay safe in the cabin. You and…well, you know.”

You appreciated her staying discreet when you heard Sam’s voice in the background. “I will. Thanks, D.”

“You betcha. Talk soon.”

You hung up and Donna did indeed send you the pictures. You did your best with what you had but it didn’t matter in the end. The last thing you remembered was painting a sigil on the window and then everything went black. The next thing you knew, you were back at the window, your finger extended towards the glass, the half-finished sigil staring back at you. You noticed the sun was in a different position in the sky than it had been and you immediately grabbed your cell phone. Two days had passed. How? 

It hit you then what happened and you dropped the phone with a cry, immediately grabbing at your stomach. You ran for the machine Jody had shipped to you after Donna told her. At the time you’d been annoyed, but right now, you couldn’t be happier at the sheriff knowing about your pregnancy once your baby’s heartbeat echoed throughout the bedroom. You let out a huge sigh of relief, rubbing your belly affectionately. “We had quite a scare there, didn’t we, kiddo?”

It dawned on you then that while you had vanished, you were back, baby and all. Did that mean everyone else was back, too? You went back downstairs for your cell phone and immediately called Donna. Yep, everyone was back, they had all disappeared, and it wasn’t Billie but Chuck who had done it. You asked after Dean and Sam and that was when she told you about Cas and then Jack. You knew both brothers would be devastated, especially Dean, and you considered breaking your radio silence to call him. However, you chickened out at the last second and called Sam instead to check in.

It’s not that a part of you didn’t want to tell Dean he was going to be a father, it was that you were scared of what would happen when you did. Originally, you had feared that he would turn his back on you completely, more importantly on his kid, but now you were worried that maybe it would be the exact opposite. While you would be happy for him to be actively involved in your child’s life as its dad, you also knew Dean. He would try to resume things between you, make it work for the kid’s sake. Just look at how long he tried to make it work with Lisa for Ben’s sake. Not that he didn’t love her and he ended up leaving to protect them, but even Lisa knew his heart wasn’t in it. While that had been for different reasons involving hunting and Sam’s reappearance in his life, he still tried to make it work. But as he’d told you, the family thing didn’t work for him, and besides he already had a family with Sam, Cas, and Jack. You hadn’t missed how he didn’t include you in that group; you supposed you should’ve known then. 

You didn’t want him to fake wanting to be with you just to give your kid some semblance of a family life that Dean himself hadn’t really had. You didn’t know if you could take him forcing himself to kiss you goodnight before turning his back on you every single night. Or forcing a smile when he’d come home after a long day and you were the first thing he saw when he stepped inside. It was a ridiculous fear to have, you knew that, and you should be stronger than this — you were stronger than this. Not to mention, you knew you were being selfish and not at all fair to your baby or Dean. But the images kept replaying over and over in your mind, making you flinch, and you told yourself you’d tell him the next day. The next day turned into next week, then the next month. Before you knew it, you were in your third trimester and you were getting a call from his younger brother to inform you of his untimely death.

Maybe that’s really why you raced down here from Hibbing. Maybe that’s why you wanted to see for yourself that he was gone. Not only to confirm that the man who had your heart was gone for good, but also so you could tell him, hoping he might hear it wherever he now was. Or maybe by some act of mercy Jack could relay it to him, wherever Jack was. It was cowardly, you were a coward, and you hated yourself for it. You knew you should have told Dean months ago, after you found out that he and Sam had beaten Chuck, Jack was in charge of the universe now, and the world was not coming to an end anytime soon. Regardless, you couldn’t turn back the clock.

A tear escaped that you quickly wiped away, not caring if Sam saw or not. “You know, when you first told me about Dean, I considered a demon deal.”

Sam’s head snapped up. “No! That’s not what he would want! No!”

You held out a placating hand. “I know. I’m not going to do that.” He seemed to deflate slightly in relief. “I can’t, anyway.” You motioned to your bulging stomach. “I couldn’t do that to my kid. Only be around for 10 years and then poof, I’m gone? Even if it had Dean, if Dean wanted it that is, it’s still terrible to do that to a kid.” You winced slightly when you realized you were saying this to Sam Winchester of all people.

“Dean would’ve wanted it,” he assured you quietly.

You grimaced and dropped your gaze down to the dog who was staring up at you. “Maybe.” You reached down to pet his head. 

Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would’ve.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking over his words, when you murmured, “Is there any way to get him back?”

Sam let you go and his hazel eyes began to shimmer. “No,” he choked out. “I, uh, checked with Jack and he said it was his time. So…no.”

“What?” You snapped, getting to your feet. “After everything you’ve done for that kid? He just—”

Sam got to his feet, tenderly cradling your shoulders. “I know. I didn’t want to hear it either but…Jack’s right.” Your jaw dropped, ready to let some f-bombs fly (which you usually tried to avoid since the baby could now hear you), when Sam’s hands moved up to your face, trying to get you to listen. “He was ready to go. Jack confirmed it. Dean’s in Heaven and he’s at peace.”

Tears were on the edge of falling when you heard that. “He’s in Heaven?”

Sam nodded, a tear making its way down his cheek. “Yeah. He is.”

If Dean was in Heaven…well, then that was some consolation at least. Just when he thought he’d never make it there thanks to his being a demon for a short stint, being killed by a Hell Hound, and everything that had occurred over the years — even some of the things he’d done. But that also meant he was gone, for good this time. It was confirmed; he wasn’t coming back. It hit you like a freight train and it punched a huge hole in your chest. You felt as if you were falling, falling, and would never stop. Dean was…gone. “Then he’s…”

“He’s gone,” Sam confirmed. “He’s not coming back.”

Your knees buckled and you nearly fell, Sam thankfully having caught you. You heard a wailing sound but you had no idea where it was coming from until you felt it ripping its way out of your body. Sam gingerly picked you up in his arms and moved you onto the bed. You were violently sobbing and you barely noticed Sam holding you, gently rocking you back and forth, his own tears falling into your hair. Miracle had jumped up and laid next to you, whining quietly and trying to shove his head under your hands, rubbing his body carefully against your belly. 

There was no way. No way that this was real. This had to be a nightmare. But when you heard Sam sniffle above you, choking out, “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, it’s going to be okay,” you knew that it wasn’t. Memories of Dean’s face, his laugh, his smiles, his touch, his scent, the way he looked at you when you’d both been happy together, his kisses, the way he felt like home in a way that no other person or place ever could, the way he made you feel safe — all of it smashed over you like a tidal wave and it didn’t let up. Dean Winchester, the man you’d loved with all of your heart, the man whose child you now carried inside of you, was gone. And there was nothing you could do to bring him back.

Dean had just pulled the Impala over at a beautiful spot, where you could see nature’s beauty for miles. He rested back against Baby and marveled at it all. There was even a double rainbow that showed up and Dean chuckled, knowing that had to be Jack’s doing considering there hadn’t been any rain. Then he wondered if it did rain at all. How did things like that work up here anyhow?

He was still enjoying the view when Jack popped in next to him. 

“There he is.” Dean grinned and went to give him a hug before he thought better of it. “Am I still allowed to…you know?”

Jack smiled. “Of course. I like hugs.”

Dean laughed and embraced him tightly. “Thanks, kid. For everything you did up here, I mean. Bobby told me.” He pulled back, clapping his shoulder in thanks. “So, where’s Cas?”

“He’ll be along shortly but first, I need to show you something.”

Dean’s brows furrowed but he shrugged. “Okay.”

Jack placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and next thing Dean knew, he was back in his old room at the Bunker. “Whoa,” he whispered, thinking Jack and Cas had built the Bunker just for him. He would be able to wait for Sam here, in his home. He hoped the TV in the Dean Cave worked and that he still had access to his music. Baby’s radio had worked so he had high hopes. He was about to thank Jack when his eyes suddenly caught sight of someone in his bed. Well, two someones. 

He glanced towards Jack who gave him a subtle nod, silently encouraging him to get closer. Dean shot him a confused look but did move closer. When he caught sight of you, his heart dropped into his stomach. Even being dead, he felt the same exact thing he felt the last time he had seen you. You were the one who got away, or more appropriately, the one he pushed away. 

Sure, he’d been confused when he found out everything in his life was a lie when Chuck revealed himself to be a giant dick, but he did love you. He had such trouble reconciling the two: what he knew to be true and what his mind was telling him. No other romantic relationship had worked out for him, all two of them prior to you, and now he knew why. Chuck liked him better on his own, being the guy with no strings attached and rolling through town to save the girl, kill the monsters, get thanked, and move on his way. The only other person Chuck liked having in the Impala regularly was Sam. You, well, you he hadn’t seen coming and after the Big Bad Chuck reveal, he had to wonder why. 

He had never meant to hurt you, though he couldn’t seem to stop from doing it. If things weren’t real between you all of this time, he didn’t want to keep pretending like they were. That wasn’t fair to either of you and he certainly didn’t want to continue stringing you along when his heart was no longer in it like it used to be. So he let you go, as painful as it was and as wrong as it felt, he did the right thing by you. Then that night he’d called you out of the blue, he’d been torn up about Cas’ revelations about Jack’s actual role in Billie’s plan, how badly he wanted Chuck gone, and how while he didn’t want to sacrifice the kid, he wanted his and Sam’s freedom more. Without thinking, he’d picked up the phone and dialed you. He shocked himself when he asked you to come over after hearing you weren’t that far away, and you shocked him even more when you agreed. 

Dean hadn’t planned for you two to be intimate, but once you were there, right in front of him, it hit him hard how much he missed you, missed what you had together. So he made a move and you let him. He’d put everything he had, everything he felt but couldn’t tell you, into this stolen moment in time between you. And then the next morning, he thought it had all been a dream until he turned his head and saw you laying there, hair adorably disheveled, sheet covering you, doing something on your phone. It briefly reminded him of the many mornings he’d woken to find you in this exact same position, already up after a wild night, searching for cases. He wanted to bask in the comfort and familiarity for a moment longer, but when you turned and smiled at him, greeting him like you always had, he started kicking himself internally. He didn’t want you to think that this meant things would change when he knew they wouldn’t. He was being unfair to you and it wasn’t right. He’d been a selfish bastard and now he had to go into dick mode which would hurt you again. And sure enough, he knew he did when he saw your face fall as he easily dismissed you, not once but twice. He winced at the memory; he certainly didn’t blame you for not taking his calls or returning his voicemails after that.

The truth was that while he had initially been confused about his feelings for you and their validity, he knew he cared deeply about you and the most important thing was keeping you safe. He didn’t want you involved in the Chuck showdown, which is why he rudely dismissed you that morning, making up an excuse of a case in Duluth, something he knew you’d go along with. After watching you leave, as the door closed behind you, his heart fell into his stomach and he felt about three inches tall. He hated hurting you, hated pushing you away, but he knew it was for the best. You needed to be safe; not a target for Chuck.

After Chuck had been defeated and Jack took over, Dean realized in those months that he’d been a grade A idiot when it came to you. Sure, he’d been a cold dick, but he also had been a complete dumbass. He still loved you and he missed the hell out of you. What you had together had been something special that he stupidly threw away. There were quite a few nights after quite a few drinks, he’d picked up his phone and hovered over your number but he never actually called it. How could he even think of asking you to forgive him and give him another chance? After everything he’d said and done? He truly was a selfish bastard. 

When he didn’t call, he then switched over to all of the photos and videos he had taken of you and both of you together. As he heard your laughter, saw both of your smiles, watched how you looked at him and the affection you’d shown him, he continued drowning his sorrows. He wanted so much to talk to you, to apologize and explain, and ask if he could come see you, but he never let himself ask. He didn’t deserve it; he knew that. 

Now, here you were, asleep on his bed, Miracle curled up next to you. Staring down at you, he wondered how the hell he had ever let you go. And now, he’d never get to hold you again, feel your touch, or even share a conversation with you ever again. Even though Dean was at peace with his fate, regret languished within his chest the more he studied your face. He reached out to brush some hair back over your face but sadness overwhelmed him when he realized he couldn’t even do that small simple touch. Not anymore.

Dean’s eyes narrowed when he noticed an arm curled around you, almost protectively, pinning you to another body. His gaze traveled up that arm to find his younger brother, asleep right behind you. That surprised him but he quickly put two and two together. You must have gone to the Bunker when Sam called you to tell you the news and here you were, in Dean’s room, asleep on his bed with his dog. And while he didn’t begrudge you or his little brother some comfort you both might need, he didn’t like the look of that embrace or that Sam’s face was buried into the back of your neck.

Dean glanced back down at the arm, seeing Miracle staring right up at him. He couldn’t help but smile at the canine who had been his companion for months before he died. “Hey, boy,” he whispered, not sure if he would be heard or not but not wanting to startle you if he was. “How are you?”

Miracle didn’t seem to react at first, not until he got up and moved closer, wagging his tail. Dean went to try to pet the dog, hoping he could at least touch the animal, but he never got that far. His eyes zeroed in on just what Miracle’s body had been blocking.

His wide eyes flicked up to you, to Sam, back to you, and back to your fairly large and round stomach. The hell with being heard and possibly scaring you two. He glanced back to find Jack watching him. “What the hell is going on here, Jack?”

“They’re sleeping.”

“I’m aware of that,” he growled. “But what—”

Just then, Cas popped in next to Jack. When the angel saw Dean, he offered a soft smile. Dean felt himself relax slightly and a part of him wanted to go hug the angel but another part of him was nervous to. Plus, he really wanted to know what the hell was going on. He shifted his eyes towards Jack, his jaw tightening. “What the hell are you showing me?”

Cas glanced towards the bed, realization lighting his features, before he turned to Jack as well.

“The present,” Jack simply answered.

Dean cursed under his breath, not caring that both Cas and Jack could hear him. “The present of what? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like some time has passed.” He gestured towards your stomach. He tried not to be angry with you or Sammy, he really did, but dammit, his brother knew how he felt about you! Him dying didn’t change that! Besides, Sam had something going with Eileen last he knew, whatever happened to that?

“What you’re seeing is a few days after your death.”

Surprise ran through Dean at that revelation. So, this wasn’t some screwed up future scene he was witnessing? His eyes roamed over you, coming to rest once again on your stomach. You were very pregnant, looking as if you might be ready to pop any day now, he wasn’t sure. But one thing was clear; there was no way the baby was Sam’s. Sam wouldn’t have been able to keep that secret from him that long and he just didn’t see you or Sam going behind his back like that while he was alive. You were pissed at him, maybe even hated him, but you would never do that to him. Nor would Sam. The only answer was that you had found someone else and you were starting a family with them. Now he understood your radio silence even more. You might currently be sad at the news of his death, awash in memories in his room to where you’d fallen asleep on his bed and Sam had to comfort you, but you had truly moved on. That burned him even more. While he was happy if you were happy, knowing you’d found someone who wouldn’t break your heart and would treat you better than he ever could, a part of him was saddened by this knowledge. He knew you were too good for him, that you deserved better, but to see it confirmed in such a way, well, it was heartbreaking.

“So if she’s… Then she’s…” He couldn’t even put it into words; it hurt too much.

Jack clasped Dean’s shoulder. “The child is yours, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t alive anymore but if he had been, his heart would have stopped. He turned to Jack, shocked. “What?”

“You’re going to be a father,” Jack supplied, letting him go.

“But…how?” Dean’s gaze fell on you once more.

Cas suddenly appeared on his other side. “You don’t remember how you conceived the child?”

“What? No, I just…”

“Dean,” Jack called. 

When he turned to look at the new God, the latter held up a glowing finger to him that almost reminded him of that movie E.T. “What are you gonna do with that? Check my temperature?” Speaking of E.T., hadn’t that been one of the last movies picked for movie night before the Chuck showdown?

Jack smiled and touched the finger to his forehead. Within seconds, Dean was reliving every single moment between you two:

…When you’d met. 

…When he decided he’d liked you while you decided you didn’t like him too much.

…His constant flirting and trying to win you over.

…Your begrudging friendship that then grew into something more.

…Your relationship.

…Your breakup.

…All of the times you’d been in pain because of him.

…That last night.

…The next morning. 

Then the memories shifted to yours from after that morning: 

…You finding out about the pregnancy a couple of months later.

…Your hemming and hawing over calling him to tell him.

…Your fears.

…When you’d vanished with everyone else.

…Your panic upon your reappearance.

…The time you spent getting ready to retire from hunting and set up a normal life in Hibbing while preparing for the baby.

…The call from Sam with the news of his death.

…Your regret at not telling him about his child and your drive down here.

…Your conversation with Sam.

…Your collapsing in grief at finally realizing that he was gone and not coming back.

All of it that led to the scene he was witnessing now. He felt everything you felt, heard every thought, saw every tear, every smile. 

By the time Jack pulled away, Dean’s eyes were wet. He wasn’t sure how he was able to produce tears as a dead man but he did. Not only did he feel how deeply he’d hurt you, but he also felt just how deeply you loved him. He already knew he’d been an idiot when it came to you, but he really had no clue before this just how incredibly stupid he’d been. It had always been real between you. That hadn’t been Chuck. Not by a long shot.

Dean discreetly wiped his eyes. “Send me back.” His tone was firm and he wasn’t really asking.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but your time on Earth is up.”

Dean turned a menacing glare onto Jack. New God or not, he didn’t care. “She’s having my kid and she needs me. They both need me. Sam, too. After everything I’ve done for this world, you owe me.” Jack stared him down, unbothered by the taller man’s attempt to make demands. “Now I appreciate the Fixer Upper: Heaven Edition, I really do, but I should be with them. I deserve a shot at this and you know it.”

Jack mused on that for a moment before staring up at Dean sadly. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

Dean scoffed. “Then why bother showing me any of this? Why bother telling me that it’s my kid she’s about to have? What’s the point, dammit?”

“You were afraid that you had left nothing behind of value, except Sam and your beloved car. Afraid that your life hadn’t amounted to anything in the end. No matter how many people you saved, no matter how many connections you made, no matter what good you did. ” Jack gestured towards you. “It did amount to something. You are leaving behind something, something important. A legacy,” Jack gestured to your stomach. “A family,” he waved his hand over you and Sam. 

Dean’s jaw clenched and he ignored the stinging in the corner of his eyes. “So this was just to show me what I can never have. The girl, the kid, the life…that’s just aces,” he muttered.

“No, Dean,” Cas spoke up. “What Jack is trying to explain is—”

“--your life amounted to more than you thought it had,” Jack finished.

Dean watched as Miracle went back and curled up against your belly once more, his head on his paws as he watched the scene in front of him. The corner of Dean’s lips tipped up into a smile. It was almost as if the dog knew it was his kid in there. And he was determined to protect it in Dean’s absence. His smile faded though when he thought of how he wouldn’t be able to see his kid, at all. He’d had enough of this. “That’s great. Appreciate the pep talk, fellas. Now, if you could send me back so I can actually raise my legacy and take care of my family, that’d be much appreciated.”

Jack and Cas exchanged a glance. Dean knew he wasn’t winning this one but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep trying. “It’s not your time yet,” Jack answered cryptically.

Dean’s head snapped in his direction. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that now your time is in Heaven, not Earth. And it’s best if you return to it.” Before Jack could snap his fingers, Dean held up a hand.

“Whoa, wait! That’s it? You’re not even gonna let me stick around to see what I’m gonna have?”

Jack smiled once more. “You’re going to have a son. A strong, healthy son.”

Dean reeled from that information. “A son?” He choked out.

Jack gave him a happy nod and held his fingers up again.

“Wait, wait! I’m serious, Jack. Why can’t I stick around?”

“You know what happens to ghosts, Dean. Besides, you’ve already been admitted to Heaven.”

“But you can do something about that, right? Like bring me back?” When Jack didn’t respond, Dean became desperate. “At least let me check in on them every now and then or something! You’re telling me you can’t even do that? You’re freaking God!”

Jack’s smile faded. “You’re not an angel, Dean.”

“No,” Cas interrupted. “But I am.” Cas stretched out his wings that were a lot brighter than Dean remembered. If he wasn’t dead, he was pretty sure he would at they very least be blinded from the brightness right about now. “I can take him back when he’s ready and I can escort him on any future visits.”

Dean was shocked but also beyond grateful at Cas’ offer. While they hadn’t spoken yet about how things were left between them before The Empty took away the angel, he couldn’t imagine it would be easy for Cas to watch as he pined over someone else, as he watched his kid grow, but Dean was grateful all the same. 

Jack appeared to think this over before meeting Cas’ intent gaze. “You will make sure to bring him back each time.” At Cas’ nod, Jack gave him a knowing yet affectionate smile. “I expect you to keep to the rules during these visits.”

“Of course,” Cas agreed.

Jack then glanced over at Dean. “If you’re worried about her and your child, you don’t need to be. Sam is going to watch over them.” Dean’s eyes widened slightly and his head snapped in your direction, his eyes shifting to Sam’s arm around you.

“What the hell does that mean?” He demanded.

“It means that your family is going to be safe. They’re going to stick together. Sam is going to help Y/N raise your son. He won’t allow any harm to come to them.” 

His jaw tightened, thinking it should be his arm over you, him behind you, him helping you raise your kid, you two together. He should be the one to take his son fishing, teach him about girls when he got older, show him how to keep Baby going, be the father his old man had the potential to be but minus a few things. He’d do whatever it took to keep the kid out of hunting, to give him a shot at a full happy life. He’d give up hunting himself in order to make it happen. And you…if you’d take him back, he’d never leave your side. Hell, he’d marry you if you let him. After Jack had caught him up to speed on everything you went through, everything you had felt and were feeling, he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to you, letting you know every single day just how much he loved you, if only you’d let him. If only Jack would allow him to come back. It felt beyond wrong that he wasn’t there and Sam was stepping into his place. Sam shouldn’t have to; he should be able to go and build his own family with Eileen or whoever, get married, have a couple of kids, buy a house, get out of hunting and go back to school — do whatever he wanted with his life. Not this.

“Dean.”

His eyes slowly lifted to Jack’s, who was a lot closer now than he had been before. He laid a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s as it should be. After you died, Sam was lost. She’s going to need help when the child is born.” He stared at Dean meaningfully. “They all need this.”

Dean’s gaze briefly roamed over the three of you on the bed before landing on Jack again. He thought back to his cryptic words from before. “Will I ever meet my kid? Get to see her again? Outside of Heaven?”

Jack’s expression didn’t change nor did he say anything but he squeezed his shoulder. That was the only response Dean was going to get apparently. 

Dean huffed a snort and shook his head.

“I told you, Dean. There would be no more meddling with the world from on high. I will not repeat Chuck’s mistakes. Everything is as it should be.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and he dropped his gaze. No, everything wasn’t as it should be. He made up his mind then to talk to Bobby when he got back. There had to be something he could do to get back to Earth, to get back to you and Sam and the baby…to get back to you all. If he couldn’t convince Jack to send him back, he’d find some other way.

Jack released him as Cas came to stand next to Dean. “I’ll see you back in Heaven.” He then looked at Cas. “Not too long.”

Cas gave him a nod and like that, Jack disappeared, leaving the angel and the hunter alone. Dean wasn’t thinking about how that might have set them up to talk about Cas’ last words to him before dying; right now, his focus was on you.

“Cas, please…can I touch her?”

“Dean…”

“Please,” he begged. “Just one last time. I’m not gonna get to be with her or raise my kid. I just want to touch her one last time. Please, Cas.”

Cas thought it over and then moved closer to the bed, leaning down to place two fingers against your forehead. Dean’s brows furrowed when he noticed a golden glow appear from the touch. “Whoa, whoa, Cas. What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you what you asked for. Y/N’s a light sleeper, like all of you hunters. If she wakes up, she could think she’s being attacked by a ghost or some other entity. I doubt you want that.” He pulled away and gave Dean a look.

“No,” Dean quietly agreed. Cas moved away to make room to let him in. Dean gingerly sat on the bed, about to touch you when he glanced up at the angel, unsure. Cas gave him a nod and Dean turned to gently run the backs of his fingers down your cheek. He felt your warm and soft skin this time when he came into contact with you and he let out a small breath of relief, sadness filling his chest. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Had I known, I would’ve…” He supposed it didn’t really matter what he would’ve done. “I should’ve been there. You shouldn’t have had to go through all this alone. I should be there with you now, ready to help you take care of the kid. I…” He tenderly moved your hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, but I had to keep you safe. I didn’t want you to become a target for Chuck. And I never should’ve…” He could feel a familiar stinging at the corners of his eyes and he wasn’t surprised that his voice was a bit gruffer when he next spoke. “I knew what we had was real. I know I questioned it for a second there but I always knew. That’s why it was so important to me that you were safe. But it doesn’t make what I did and said okay. And I’m sorry for that.” He ran his fingers lightly over your lips, wishing he could kiss you one last time, feeling you kissing him back. “I love you,” he whispered, a single tear falling down his cheek that he hastily wiped away. He stroked the apple of your cheek tenderly with his thumb. “And I always will.”

Not really wanting to pull away from you but knowing he was on a time clock, he reluctantly moved his fingers away from your face and laid his hand on your belly. He couldn’t feel anything except the taut skin underneath his fingertips, but it was enough to make him smile. “Being that you’re my kid, you’re probably going to give your mom a run for her money. Try not to make her too crazy, huh?” He let out a watery sounding laugh. “I’m sorry I can’t be there but your Uncle Sammy is going to make sure you and your mom are taken care of. Okay? He’s going to show you how to toss a ball around, help you with your homework, all that stuff. Just do me a favor, though. Don’t let him feed you kale the whole time and don’t let him get you into his true crime podcasts. The guy is a classic nerd, don’t let him turn you into one, too.” His smile slowly faded. “Saying all that, he’s one of the best guys I've ever known and I know he’ll be good to you, be good to your mom. So cut him some slack when you get older, alright?” He rubbed his thumb in gentle circles. “Take care of your mom for me. I’ll be watching over both of you. I hope I get to meet you someday.” Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your stomach before sitting up and coming face to face with Miracle. The dog quietly whined and Dean gave him one last good head scratch. “You look out for them, okay buddy?” The dog whined again and Dean patted him.

“Dean,” Cas gently called.

Dean nodded and slowly got to his feet. His eyes shifted to Sam who was sound asleep, giving him a soft smile. “Thanks for taking care of them, Sammy,” he whispered. He didn’t vocalize that it was only temporary, that he was hell bent and determined to find a way to get back. His eyes then landed on you and he reached out to you one last time, trailing a fingertip along the dried tear tracks on your cheek. “Cas, can we just stay until they wake up?”

“Dean, Jack said—”

“I know what Jack said,” Dean snapped, glancing back at the angel whose parted lips pressed into a thin line. Dean immediately felt sorry for snapping at him; it wasn’t Cas’ fault and he wasn’t angry with him. He softened his tone. “I just want to be here when she wakes up. That’s all.” Cas seemed to be wrestling with his request. “Please, Cas,” he begged. “I just want to see her like this, awake.” He was slightly embarrassed at admitting that to his best friend but he wasn’t sure when he’d be allowed to visit again (and what he might be able to figure out to get himself back or how long it would take), and he had the strongest urge to see you up and about, walking around, pregnant with his kid. Not to mention he wanted to hear your voice one last time. “Please,” he whispered in a broken plea.

Cas stared at him for a moment before giving him a nod. “But after she wakes, we go back.”

“Thank you, Cas.” He meant it. While he highly doubted Cas would get into any real trouble on his behalf, he knew how difficult it must be for the angel to unwillingly push against Jack’s rules.  Dean turned back to you, carefully sitting down next to you, caressing your face. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured. He also made you a silent promise: he would do whatever it took to get back to you. His eyes briefly roamed to your stomach. To get back to both of you. Fate and the universe and all that crap be damned.

A/N: Please don't hate me.

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