The Child of ProtectionNo, Daddy
"Daddy, no! Please!" a young Dean yelled as his father continued to shout at him to finish the obstacle course. "I can't! I can't do it anymore! It's too hard. I already did it once, didn't I?"
"Yes, you can, do it again! Once won't teach you. You won't remember." John told him furiously. "You have to, you hear me?"
"But Daddy "
"Don't argue with me." That tone in John's voice always made Dean stop disobeying his father. It used to be only used when he was playing with something he shouldn't, or he sneaked into the cookie jar. Now it was used when he was too scared to pick up the gun and shoot.
Dean, his tears clouding his vision and snot dripping from his nose, he once again pushed his aching muscles to do the cartwheels, gun shoots, and flips. He pulled his skinny arms to a bent position on the arm hang, every muscle in his body straining, and he propelled himself to the floor in a heap.
Quickly, breathing hard, he got up and stumbled to t
Castiel vs. FameCas just did not understand humans sometimes. They spend hours watching other people's lives, most not true, on a screen for entertainment, but they seem not to be satisfied for today he saw two young women walking around a restaurant where the boys were carrying little electronics.
He knew most electronics, like Dean's Impala's radio (although he was still trying to understand why the car was referred to as a "she". It had no feminine characteristics), an iPod, and a cell phone. And of course TV and all those other everyday things. So, yes, he proudly knew most of everything.
Except for that.
"Dean," he said, sitting next to Sam in a booth . "What are those?"
Dean noisily chewed his massive bite of a sandwich as he looked over. "I think you're " he swallowed, "aware of girls last time I checked. Also, they're underage, so that's not going to work out well with you."
"What does their age have to do with anything? I meant what are they holding?" Castiel said irritably. Dean sure ta
Maybe I SmileSomething was wrong with Sam's brother. At first he brushed it off, because the differences were so small. But now it seemed to happen more often than not.
He was used to his shitty jokes, his moody behavior, the drinking. But this, this was something entirely different. This was scary, bizarre, almost surreal. Dean didn't do this. Not during these kinds of times.
He'd braced himself when Bobby died. He grieved, he cried himself to sleep at night, but he set up a wall inside himself to let Dean grieve his way, too. When their father had died, he was aggressive, cold. Defiant.
Although over the years since then his bravado began to falter with the stress, every single time someone died that he loved, that same Dean would kick in.
A grieving Dean did not smile.
Not like this. It wasn't a sarcastic smirk, a little "I'm fine but I'm actually" not smile, or a "I'm about to kick your ass" smile that, strangely enough, wiped a demon's cocky attitude from it's ugly face.
Not that he could blam
Supernatural Christmas Trials 1When Dean woke up, the last thing he expected was to see a Christmas tree, decorated with lights and ornaments of every color, in the middle of the abandoned house. And as for the presents, that shocked him.
"Sam?" he asked. If his brother pulled off some damn attempt to celebrate Christmas, he was seriously gonna pound him.
But the younger brother was still sleeping. The two young men had just finished a wendigo hunt around Minnesota, and now they were huddling down for a day or two to sleep.
That was Christmas for them. At least, most years.
He rolled onto his back, blinking the drowsiness. It was still kind of dark outside, so probably around early 7 AM. Why the hell was he awake?
And why the hell was there a goddamn tree and wrapped presents?
"Merry Christmas, Dean." a voice said. Dean shot up from his bed to see Castiel standing at the foot of his bed. The angel in the trench coat was actually wearing a Santa hat, and Christmas lights tangled around his body. They were flashing, a
Dean's head jerked from the screen of the laptop, alert. He turned and saw nothing in the crummy motel room. Sam was out for a supply run, hopefully getting Dean's pie. Shrugging, he went back to watching BustyAsianBeauties.com.
Irritated, Dean shut the laptop and looked around the room. It was empty. Nothing under the bed, in the closet, bathroom...
"Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on here?" Dean demanded. Instead of getting a verbal answer, Cas appeared 3 inches away from his face. Dean yelped and fell back on the floor, staring dizzily at the ceiling.
"Hello *hic* Dean." Castiel said, staring down at him.
"What the hell, Cas?" Dean glared at him, scrambling to his feet. "Why'd ya have to do that?"
"I have no control my appearances. I *hic*-" and he vanished again, appearing on the other side of the room. "Hiccup. I hiccup."
Dean stared at him in bewilderment before bursting out laughing. "Oh man, that's actually really funny."
"Why?" Cas frowned at
Been A Long TimeIt was annoying, really, how emotions and memories flood your mind all over again right when you feel safe. That is, if you could feel safe when you're leg is broken and there's some crazy ass monsters looking to eat you.
But it was better than standing in the rubble of the place you called home for a few years. Home, to him, was not just a place you spent your time in, researching hunts and recovering from the horrible things he saw, and felt. It was the fact that he always felt safe there. And his family was there. Bobby's house was the one place that they could meet up in and think, "maybe if I just spend a little time with grumpy Bobby and puppy eyed Sam, everything will be okay for a little while."
Then came Sam. He seemed better with his hallucinations, or at least Dean thought so. On the drive to the safe house, he'd flinch, grimace, and press against his hand stitches. Dean was too high on morphine to nag him about it. There was so much shit between him and his brother recently