Fierce Fangirl Friday: I have been emotionally compromised

CAUTION: this blog post contains spoilers to the 2 part Supernatural season Finale so if you haven’t watched it, don’t read this. Because I will spoil it.

Welcome to Fierce Fangirl Friday❤

Fierce Fangirl Friday is a weekly meme hosted by Jackie over at toomuchofabooknerd where you have the opportunity to do some healthy fangirling on your blog!

Whenever you have something, anything to fangirl about – whether it be a book, TV show, music, celebrities, your pet, the universe, finding your soulmate or just a recent meal that you’ve had – Fierce Fangirl Friday is your opportunity to do so! It doesn’t matter if it’s a recent obsession of yours or something you’ve been loving for a while!

The rules are simple ones, make sure you ping back to Jackie, and whenever there is a Friday that you need to fangirl, about anything, even if it’s not what your blog is usually about, have at it.

The Image I have set at the featured image was created by Jackie and it states in her post that we can use it, so I have. Thank you for creating it. 

I have not been a watcher of Supernatural since 2005, I didn’t get into it until I got really into Tumblr in mid-season 6, but I have watched every episode.

I have been through a lot in my time in the SPN Family. I spend many weeks a year in a state of shock and anxiety and not feeling okay with what happened, or angry because characters who aren’t main cast members are killed off and probably won’t come back.

Last night was the 2 part season finale of Season 12. Toward the end of the second episode, My Friend, Jared Padalecki tweeted  “How are  you liking the show?” and I replied, “I have been screaming for the hour and 51 minutes.”


That’s how it was going.


the last ten minutes of the show happened. And I am EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED.

Supernatural Season Finales are rarely fun. We’ve had what looked liked a deadly car crash, Sam’s died, Dean’s sold his soul to a demon, Dean’s died, Lucifer has been released for hell, Sam has died, Purgatory is opened, Dean and Cas are presumed dead/in purgatory, the angels fall from Heaven, Dean dies/becomes a demon, they kill Death/release God’s sister, and last season then a beacon of hope happened when Mary came back to life after being dead for over 30 years.



The first episode of the night was emotional enough. Dean finally got to say all the crap he’s been through and not blame himself. He hasn’t done anything like that since he shot himself in the dream in Season 3. Sam had a moment where he took responsibility and also did something by himself without feeling like he needed Dean in order to do it. Dean got to use the grenade launcher. I cried, I screamed, I cried. All the Winchester’s hugged. the British Men of Letters mess was cleaned up, and then I leaned back and thought “We have a whole nother hour of this nonsense.”

To be fair, they did tie off the threads of the season well and started new ones for next season. I am still in a state of raw and intense emotion.

One thing must be addressed before I go off the rails. The fact that Cas used the alias “James Novak” and thought no one would find him is amazing. It is only slightly less obvious than using the alias “I am Not Castiel.” But does he still used Jimmy’s driver’s license? Did he go to the DMV and renew Jimmy’s ID so he would have identification? Oh, Castiel and your shenanigans. *sobs for several more hours*

I don’t think Rowena or Crowley are dead. I’m honestly on the fence about Crowley, but the show and it’s writers have gotten so much crap about killing women that I don’t think they would kill off a character like Rowena without giving Ruth an on-screen death. That’s not fair to her and doesn’t do justice to her character. So hopefully she’ll be back. If Crowley is dead, his last words “Goodbye Boys” and how he died was excellent for the character. So if Mark Sheppard is back, excellent, if not, Crowley’s death was redeeming and good for his character.

In season seven, when Cas walked into the water after eating the leviathan, there weren’t any wings. When angels die, if they are really dead the scorched outlines of their wings appear on the ground. Because there were no wings there was no proof. No wings no proof. All we got was a trench coat floating away, and then we got Cas back and everything was good.

Until yesterday.

Dean kneeling over Cas and seeing those broken wings on the dirt. Well, I have been emotionally compromised. It’s not okay.

So as far as I know, and this was basically the first coherent non “WHAT HAVE THEY DONE” posts on Tumblr after the finale, Misha Collins is a signed Season Regular for Season 13. The big fan convention in Rome is this weekend, so we’ll find out for sure if Misha is leaving the show and announcing that he’d been signed was hiding that they were going to kill him. Castiel has become such a part of the fabric of the show, and such a part of Dean’s life that the show will be so different with no Cas that I don’t think the producers would do this to us. As far as I know, Cas walking into that lake was supposed to be the end of Cas, but the fans were… what’s the word… angry? Jerks about it? Flipped out? that they brought Cas back, and Misha has been a regular cast member ever since.

This can’t be the end of Castiel. It can’t be. His death didn’t mean anything. The death of Castiel can’t be meaningless. They can’t do to him what they have done to so many characters (Charlie Bradbury) and kill him for the emotional reaction. Crowley’s death had meaning and sacrifice. Cas got stabbed in the back by Lucifer. Castiel doesn’t get to die that way.

And the season 13 had better fix this nonsense.

I did reach out to Misha Collins for comment, but he’s been in a very weird twitter silence since around noon yesterday when he told all of us to record our live reactions to the last 10 minutes of the second episode of the finale.

Until next time Internet,



Short Story Saturday: Home has four wheels

So this week it’s a piece of  Supernatural fanfiction again. I wasn’t going to post the whole thing because it’s kind of long, but why not.  I hope you enjoy it. I’ll stick a link to my AO3 profile at the bottom if you are interested in reading more of my fan fiction. I’m working on a brand new piece for next week. We’ll see how it goes.


The first night they spent in the Impala John felt like the absolute worst father in the world. As he pulled into the park and ride on their way from Kansas to West Virginia on the tail of something that seemed a little bit off, something like the thing that took Mary. He looked into the back seat at his two boys sound asleep not knowing anything was wrong. Sam had been asleep for hours in his car seat, there was a decent chance he was going to wake up soon, hungry, wet or both and demand attention. Dean, however, looked so uncomfortable in his booster seat it was almost funny. His cheek pressed tightly against the window, his little firefighter’s helmet askew on his head. John shut the car off in the darkest part of the park and ride. Dark car in the shadows was hard to see. It didn’t feel safe, but it felt safe enough with all the doors locked. He’d get a motel room when they got to West Virginia. Give Dean an actual bed with blankets and pillows. But for tonight this was the best he could do, and man did he feel so awful for doing it.
As it became more frequent, Dean started to ask questions. Sam didn’t seem to mind, but he was ten months old, and nothing really seemed to bother him as long as he had Dean within grabbing range and his dirty stuffed cow close in his hand.

“Daddy,” Dean whined as John unbuckled Dean from his booster seat so the little boy could lay down on the seat, at least it was a little more comfortable. “Why don’t we have a house anymore? I miss the apartment at the top of the stairs. Why can’t we go back there? I know we can’t go back to the big house because the fire ate it, but how come we have no house?”

“Because Daddy has work to do,” John explained. “You’ll understand when you’re a little bit bigger.”

“How much bigger?” Dean yawned.

“Not much bigger,” John smiled.

He watched Dean place a pillow stolen from one of the motels they’d stayed at against Sam’s car seat and arrange himself, then placed a blanket over the boy. After wishing his boys a good night, he closed the door and climbed into the front.

“Daddy,” Dean said softly. “If I get much bigger, I’m not gotta fit back here no more.”

“We’ll figure it out when we get there kiddo,” John said, balling up a sweatshirt and placing it against the passenger’s side door. “Everything will work out. I promise.”

“Are we looking for Momma?” Dean asked sleepily.

He asked the same question every night, and every night John had the same answer: “Yeah, Buddy, we’re still looking for what took Momma.”

“I hope you find it soon,” Dean mumbled. “I miss my bed.”

“Good night, Dean,” John replied.

He didn’t know how much more of Dean saying things like that he could take. He was driven in two very different directions. On the one hand, he had boys to raise, make sure they grow up protected and happy. On the other hand, he had the image of the love of his life, on fire, cut open, dead and pinned to the ceiling by an unknown force, a demon, that psychic had said. If he kept on the path he was on, if he kept searching for what put Mary up there, he was protecting his boys. It was a doubled edged sword he was playing with. It had no right answer. He stared at the ceiling until he heard Dean’s breath start to even out, then closed his own eyes to grab a couple hours before Sammy needed attention.

As the boys got bigger, it got a little easier. Dean had figured out exactly what John was doing on accident right before his seventh birthday while John and Bobby talked strategy at Bobby’s kitchen table. He’d taken it pretty well considering, thought of John as a kind of superhero. John chalked it up to the little boy already knowing that there were bad things out there. There had to be if something took away his mom.

When they left Bobby’s after Dean finished first grade, heading off to hunt a ghoul in Oklahoma, the routine of sleeping in the car started up again. Dean jumped right back into it, almost like he was more used to sleeping in the car than a real bed. If that didn’t break John’s heart, there were few things that ever would.

Sam was much more reluctant. He liked having his space. He liked sharing a bed with his big brother. He liked being able to sleep with his face pressed right up against Dean’s side, but he also liked being able to take up a good two-thirds of a full sized bed with his tiny frame. Squishing the two of them into the backseat was touchy.

Outside of Nebraska, John found a nice safe looking parking lot to crash for the night and told Dean to get Sammy ready for bed. John laid down across the front, head on a sweatshirt and was out in a matter of seconds. Dean helped Sammy into his pajamas and got a bottle of water out of a cooler in the foot well under Sam’s booster seat and helped his brother with his toothbrush before changing himself and brushing his teeth.

“How come, we can’t go to a place with the bed?” Sam started. He held his toothbrush out to Dean to put away while clutching his dirty stuffed cow, Moocha, close to his chest.

“Because Dad stopped here,” Dean explained. “So we have to sleep in the car.”

“I don’t want to,” Sam pouted.

“Then you can sleep outside,” Dean nodded. “More room for me.”

“I don’t want to,” Sam said shaking his head. “I’ll be boy napped. Moocha get cow-napped!”

“You’re too annoying to get kidnapped, Sammy,” Dean said seriously. “They’ll return you before too long.”

“Not funny, De,” Sam said.

Dean shrugged and laid down with his head by the driver’s side door. He balled up one of John’s shirts as a pillow and pulled at Sam who was standing in the foot well down to lay against him.

“You tell me a story?” Sam whispered.

“Too dark,” Dean said. “Just go to sleep. I’ll read you a story when we get to a motel.”

“Promise?” Sam asked, pressing a bony elbow into Dean’s ribcage as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“Yes, Sammy, I promise,” Dean replied.

“You’re the best big brother in the world,” Sam yawned.

“I know,” Dean smiled, wrapping an arm around Sam’s back to make sure that he didn’t fall off the seat in the middle of the night.

Dean lay there listening to Sammy breathe and his dad snore for a while until he started to drift himself. Just as he was reaching a place where sleep was within reach, Sam started to shiver.

“Dean,” a tiny voice said. “I’m very cold.”

Dean took the shirt from against the door and draped it over the two of them.

“But now you gots no pillow,” Sam yawned.

“It’ll be okay Sammy,” Dean assured. “It’ll be okay for now. Everything will be better someday. I’m going to make everything better for you.”

“Promise,” Sam said sleepily, his body getting heavy again against Dean’s side.

“Even if it kills me, Sammy,” Dean promised. “Everything’s gonna be better for you.”


Dean stole a couple pillows and one of the blankets from the next motel they were stuck in a while his Dad took down a vampire nest. It was much easier to get Sammy to sleep when he was warm. It seemed weird since the kid was a walking radiator, but Sam need blankets to sleep, and Dad wasn’t stopping at Kmart because Sammy was whining about being cold. So Dean did the only thing he knew how. There was only so much he could work with being seven and barely tall enough to reach the stove to make decent spaghetti-O’s let alone walk around a store by himself.

It was a little bit more comfortable in the car with those things, but Dad wasn’t too happy about it.

“Where did you get that, Dean?” John sighed when Dean pulled the blanket out his duffle in a parking lot near an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere Iowa.

“I got them from the motel,” Dean confessed. “Sam’s always cold, and it’s hard to sleep when you don’t have a pillow. And there’s only so many clean shirts that I can use as a pillow, and my neck hurts in the morning.”

“Don’t steal anything ever again,” John said sternly, doing his best not to raise his voice. “You know what happens when you steal things, Dean? You go to jail. Do you want to go to jail?”

“No, sir,” Dean replied shaking his head, wide-eyed. “But what if Sammy needs something?”

“Then tell me, and I’ll get it,” John answered.

“What if you don’t get it?”

“I’ll get it,” John said.

“I told you Sam wanted a blanket to sleep and you didn’t do nothing about it,” Dean said. “And you told me that Sam is my job and I’m supposed to take care of him.”

“Don’t talk back to me,” John said seriously, having no counter argument for his seven-year-old son. “Get ready for bed.”

Dean tucked Sammy in the best way he could, pulling out a flashlight to read a couple King Arthur tales in the kid’s magazine her nicked from the last doctor’s office they were in. Sam fell asleep against his shoulder with a very soft snore before Dean shut off his light and places the side of his face against Sam’s hair and allowed himself to fall asleep.

After Dean broke his arm during his misstep on a werewolf hunt when he was eleven, living in the car got very difficult. The poor kid’s arm was trapped with his elbow bent for weeks. When he had room to move around in his sleep, he wasn’t comfortable, let alone when he was stuck with his needy seven-year-old brother who couldn’t decide if he wanted to be next to Dean or have his own half of the back seat to himself.

“You’re going to sleep over there when you sit,” Dean decided for him. “I’m going to sleep over here on my side. I can’t sleep when you’re in the way. And when I hit you in the face with my cast you cry. So just give me space.”

“I don’t want to give you space,” Sam said sticking out his tongue.

“Dad!” Dean whined. “Make Sam stay away from me.”

“Boys!” John’s voice echoed and seemed just that much scarier when it was confined to the car his eyes never leaving the road. They had to be back in Delaware by tomorrow afternoon if Dean was going to make it back to school for Monday. “If you don’t knock it off, I’m dropping the two of you off at the next fire station I see.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Sam said. “That only works for babies.”

“Then he’ll have no problem getting rid of you,” Dean spat.

“The next person to talk gets left of the side of the road,” John said seriously. “Both of you go to sleep so I can get us where we gotta be.”

The boys started to settle for a moment, not wanting to get in trouble. But the problem with keeping two young boys in the backseat of a car for long periods of time was that the only thing they had to entertain themselves was each other. After a few minutes of settling, Sam started to fidget and kicked Dean’s feet away from him.

“Stop it, Sam,” Dean hissed through his teeth.

Sammy started to laugh. “Looks like you’re getting left on the side of the road.”

Suddenly the car slammed to a stop, gravel kicking up on both sides as John maneuvered it on to the shoulder. Dean looked over at Sam with his eyes wide. Neither little boy had ever imagined that John would make good on his threats.

“Samuel, get your ass up here now,” John said, low and angry.

Sam popped the door and made it to the front seat as fast as he could.

“I got a lot of driving to do,” John said. “If the two of you can’t behave for a few hours, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“You can leave us a Bobby’s,” Dean said softly.

“I have a very important job,” John continued like he didn’t hear Dean. “I don’t think either of you understands how important that job is. I can’t do it with the two of you acting like children all the time.”

“We are children,” Sam said seriously.

“You know what I mean,” John growled. “Now the two of you are going to go to sleep because that’s what I told you to do to. And hopefully when you wake up, we’ll be back at the duplex, and you can have your space for a little bit. Because you both are grounded and spending time in the separate room with nothing but homework for the next week. If you don’t knock it off, you’re both going to be in even bigger trouble. Do you understand?”

An echo of “yes, sir” came from both boys very quickly.

Sam curled up in the passenger’s seat, and Dean spread out in the back, his broken are up against the back of the seat in the most comfortable way he could.

John drove, eyes straight ahead. He’d never regret his choice to live his life this way. He was doing his best. Could he have stayed in the little one bedroom apartment in Lawrence and just let things be? Of course, he could have, but he took a trip to see that psychic and that changed everything. This was what was best for his boys. And if he ended this, if he found that thing that put Mary on that ceiling, his boys would never have to live like this. His boys would go to school, have lives, families. He was doing this for the greater good. He was raising his boys the only way he thought was right. He was protecting them. Making sure that everything would be okay.

The bigger the boys got, the more uncomfortable the car became. Dean took to riding shotgun most of the time by the time he was fourteen (he’d been driving the car on and off since he was twelve, so riding shot gun most of the time was a small step), but come night it was still John in the front, and the two boys jammed in the back seat. The decided that the best way to both fits was to lay so that each of their heads was against a door, old pillows or sweatshirts keeping the armrest from digging into their necks. Sam had to sleep with his head against the passenger’s door: he shoved that army man in the ash tray, he could have it stab in the head at night. The biggest problem was that the boys were much too big to fit on half a seat. Sam was still small for a ten-year-old, hadn’t started his never ending growth spirts yet, but Dean was well over five foot at fourteen and cramming into such a small space was awful, especially when his little brother complained when Dean went even a millimeter over the half way mark of the seat.

It was worse than when Sam was little because he uses to invade all of Dean’s space and not care. Even when Dean was Sam’s age, Sam would be all up in his business and Dean had to pretend he didn’t care because he loved his brother. Now he had to deal with Sam being a huge brat one hundred percent of the time and even worse in the car.

“When are we stopping?” Sam whined around one in the morning in the middle of nowhere somewhere in the Midwest.

“See any place to stop?” John replied seriously. “You want to sleep, you got a big bench seat right there. Lay down. You’ve done it a million times.”

“I don’t want to,” Sam continued to whine.

“I’m not listening to you be a bitch for hours,” Dean sighed. “Just lay down and go to sleep.”

“Stop being such a jerk and stop calling me the b-word,” Sam cried. “I don’t want to sleep in the car like a homeless person. Kids at school are going to find out, and it’s going to be awful. I get made fun of enough already.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean said. “It’s not that bad. Stop caring about what other people think and maybe you’ll be able to relax.”

“How can you not care what people think?” Sam asked.

“Because I don’t,” Dean smirked. He pulled his legs up on the seat and folded up a sweatshirt to press against the cold window.

“Keep your feet on your side this time,” Sam grumbled. He slammed his book shut and clicked off his flashlight, finally giving up that there would be a magical motel that popped up in the middle of the soybean fields.

“I’ll my best, Sammy,” Dean promised.

“Just do it. I don’t want to be kicked,” Sam said.

“You’ve spent most of your miserable life shafting me in the ribs with your boney elbows and sticking your ice feet against my thighs,” Dean replied. “You can deal with being kicked because I’m taller than you.”

Sam rolled his eyes and curled up into the smallest ball he could under a blanket that was probably stolen from a motel a million years before.

Dean slept with his face toward the seat and his knees pressed up against the seat back while Sam slept the other way. Dean figured it was easiest, less chance of kicking Sam and more chance of kicking the front seat if he got too cramped up. Inevitably, however, since he was a good foot and a half taller than his brother Dean’s leg crossed into Sam’s territory and if that’d didn’t make John want to leave the two of them to hitchhike to Bobby’s from where ever they were, nothing ever would. The high pitched squeal from Sam was animal, obnoxious and one hundred percent unnecessary.


“I didn’t even freaking’ touch you!” Dean yelled back. “Stop being a freakin’ drama queen for two freakin’ seconds.”

“Watch your Goddamn mouth,” John yelled pulling the car to the shoulder with lightning reflexes, with as loud as Sam screamed it was a miracle that John didn’t steer the car into oncoming traffic. “Whatever the two of you are doing, knock it off. We’ve got a long way to drive ahead of us, and I’m sick of the two of you fighting constantly.”

“Then act like a parent and give an actual place to sleep,” Sam sighed.

This time Dean kicked him for real, hard. Sam started to complain again, but he looked over a Dean to see his very serious “knock it off” face.

“If you don’t like the way I do things,” John said in that scary warning tone that always shook both boys down to their bones. “You’re welcome to get out of this car and be on your own for the rest of your life.”

“Dad, he’s ten,” Dean said.

“Well,” John said turning around, extending one of his arms across the back of the seat. “He likes to talk like he’s grown. If he wants to act grown he can start doing it for real.”
Sam looked to his brother to defend him.

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled. “I won’t cross into his half of the back seat again. It would be way easier if we stopped at motels more often. Or if you left us back at the base sometimes. I’m big enough to take care of Sam for a couple days, maybe a week by myself. It’ll stop the fighting. We’re just way too big for this.”

John let his face relax. Dean had a point, as much as he hated to admit it. This life had given John a bit of a warped sense of how to protect his boys. They’d be fine by themselves. Dean had been taking care of Sammy by himself for close to ten years in short bursts. John could figure out how to keep them safe. Right now it looked like the only thing they needed to be kept safe from was each other.

“I’m willing to consider it,” John said, blood pressure falling. “But Sam has to understand that he’s not in charge. Anywhere. He’s just a kid. I got a job to do. A very important job.”

“We know,” Sam sighed. “The fate of the world doesn’t seem to care that you have kids to take care of. And Wendigoes don’t take breaks because we’re in school.”

“Sam,” Dean said softly before their dad had a chance to start yelling.

The younger boys rolled his eyes as hard as he could.

“This is the last time I’m warning you,” John said. “It’s close to three in the morning. You both need to go to sleep. When you wake up, we should be in Arizona. I got a contact that might be able to hook us up with a rental for a couple months. Might even have cable.”

Sam opened his mouth, but Dean kicked him again before he could think of saying something rude. This kid was never going to stop being a huge pain in everyone’s ass.

“Just go to sleep,” John continued. “Go to sleep, and I’ll do what I can make it better. You boys are most important. You’ve always been the most important.”

“Yeah,” Dean said sarcasm thick in his voice as he tried to find a comfortable spot again.


Before turning back onto the road, John took a long look in the rear view mirror. He wondered what happened. It felt like a couple days ago he was looking back there to see two car seats and a little boy with firefighter’s helmet. Now he had a teenager and a middle schooler that might as well be one with the attitude on him. His boys lay twisted together like a pretzel, both giving up precious space to the other one. He would second guess his choices all the time looking into those faces, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He was saving people. He was making sure that no one else had to what they were doing.


At seventeen in South Carolina, Dean Winchester was arrested for vandalism in a cemetery, but John and Dean had a Rawhead to hunt, which made Dean miss a court date, and now Dean had a warrant for jumping bail. This left little time for finding a new place, at least not in this state, so John took the boys on the road, again.
He’d kept good on his promise, let Dean take care of Sam at some makeshift homestead for a little bit while John took on one man hunts. It made Sam complain less, which was a miracle within itself. However, this was a do or die situation, and those boys were going to have to share a backseat for a night.

“Can’t Dean just sleep up front?” Sam begged. “Or we can get a hotel.”

“Well,” John explained. “We’re only an hour outta town, and you’re brother can’t read a calendar, so I don’t got a lot of choices since five-oh is out looking for him.”

“Don’t pin this all on me,” Dean sighed.

“Then I’ll sleep in the front while you drive,” Sam suggested. “Not enough room for two people.”

“Nope,” John said pulling off the highway at a rest stop and driving the car to the back. “I need my six to keep the car on the road. We’re all crashing in the car.”

“Can I go sleep in the truck stop bathroom,” Sam asked.

“Do you have a death wish?” John asked. He climbed out of the car to grab the duffle bags and bottled water out of the trunk. When he leaned back in, he said: “You’ll be fine for a night.”

“This is not okay,” Sam mumbled. “How are we going to do this?”

“Whatever it is you decide, keep it down,” John called from the front seat as he laid down and within a matter of minutes started snoring.

“It’s annoying how quickly he can just fall asleep,” Sam said rolling his eyes.

“Something about being in Nam I think,” Dean replied. “He can sleep in puddles and all sorts of shit.”

“I was thinking we could try sleeping back to back,” Sam said, getting to the task at hand.

“We should probably cuddle,” Dean said seriously. “This is basically half a twin bed. The only way we’re going to fit is if you play little spoon.”

“No,” Sam answered. He shoved Dean aside and laid down with his face toward the seat.

“This is dumb,” Dean mumbled, and he did his best to fit on what was left of the seat.

As he expected there wasn’t enough room this way. Sam was pressed so close to the seat that he almost could breathe and Dean was holding himself up on the seat with an arm extended down into the foot well. Very quickly Dean’s arm started to cramp and fall asleep.

“Kid,” Dean sighed. “This isn’t going to work. I know you want it to, but I’m telling ya, it’s not gonna work.”

“I’m not cuddling with you, Dean,” Sam huffed.

“Then you can sleep with my feet if your face,” Dean said. “Because little spoon or face full of feet are your choices.”

“You’d get a face full of my feet too,” Sam said.

“No,” Dean smirked. “You’re still too short, but I know you don’t want socks in my face. It’s one night Sammy. You’ll live. I won’t tell your friends.”

Sam grunted an “It’s Sam” under his breath as he sat up. This was truly ridiculous. “Never get arrested again. I need a bed.”

“I’ll do my best, kiddo,” Dean promised. “This ain’t all my fault, though. Hunt took longer than Dad thought it would. I didn’t skip bail on purpose.”

“Whatever, just lay down I’m tired.”

Dean switched places and laid down with his back against the seat. He pulled Sam down next to him, his little brother’s back to his chest.

“Just like old times,” Dean joked. “Only way more awkward.”

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled. “Only I’m not quite as bony, and I have socks on so my feet aren’t cold.”

“You could still benefit from a little muscle,” Dean said. “But you’ll get there. Still a kid. You’d look weird as a super buff thirteen-year-old.”

“Boys,” a sleepy voice came from the front seat. “Go to sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” the boys echoed.

They both let the darkness of the night encompass them and their tiredness from the day wash over, and they fell into a rhythmic sleep.



After John bought his truck, he almost always stopped at a place with a bed to sleep. If he didn’t, Dean would because he hated to listen to Sam complain and using a fake credit card to keep the kid from whining for twelve hours was money well spent.

When Sam went off to school, and Dean and John went their separate ways, Dean became a frequenter of YMCA showers and spent most of his nights alone in his car. Unless he was lucky enough to find a lady. Then he had a warm bed to sleep in. It didn’t really seem worth it to get a room if it was just him. When John was around, they two got a motel room, usually at a table and did all things that functioning humans did.

Dean did enjoy working alone, he just hated being alone. He found himself listening to top forty stations because he missed his brother. Sleeping alone in the car was awkward and weird. It was too quiet. There was no snoring from his father or Sam’s mindless talking. Just the sounds of the road. It was horrible, but he did it. He managed for almost three years until he pulled Sam from that burning apartment.

He could tell Sam hated being back, hated the road, the kid always had. Dean liked having his passenger’s seat full, no matter how grumpy that passenger was.
Somewhere between Wisconsin and Pennsylvania the boys needed to sleep.

“I’m dying Sammy, I gotta pull off,” Dean said. Sam had his face placed against the window. He sat up with a jerk as Dean pulled off the road.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“I know you hate it,” Dean said seriously. “I know you hate this whole thing, but I’m exhausted, and who the hell knows where there’s a motel, so I’m crashing. You should too.” Dean reached down and pulled off his shoes before turning in the seat and sticking is toes under Sam’s legs.

“We’re not cuddling are we?” Sam sighed.

“You got the whole back seat, dude,” Dean smirked. “Plenty of space.”

“Not enough for two grown men,” Sam complained as he popped the door and climbed into the back.

“It’s better than it used to be,” Dean said once Sam got situated. “I know you hate it. I don’t need to hear about it. We’re both too damn exhausted to keep driving. We’ll get a hotel after we talk to dad’s contact in Pennsylvania. It’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t going to complain, Dean,” Sam yawned. “I’m in this. I gotta be now.”

The boys settled, and it felt like they were going to enter sleep when Sam’s voice, soft as it used to be when he was little came from the back.

“Dean, can you tell me about her? What you remember? What happened?”

“To Mom?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “All I got is what Dad said, which is nothing. I just, what are up against?”

“I never saw her,” Dean said. “I didn’t… I wasn’t in the room when the fire… you know. But the way Dad says it, it was just what happened to your girl. Up on the ceiling, cut open. I just got outta there as fast I could. Did what dad told me to.”

“What was she like?” Sam asked. “If we’re going to hunt this thing, I want to know everything it took from me.”

“Sammy,” Dean sighed. “I was four years old. I remember a mom. She stayed a home with us. She taught me to read, tie my shoes. We used to color together. I remember making tapes with her from her records. I can’t tell ya much more.”

“Just tell me something,” Sam begged.

Tell me a story, Dean thought. All of a sudden Sam was two again. Sharp elbows digging into him in the dark begging for him to tell a story while Dad slept in the front.

“Not too long before you were born,” Dean started. “I want to say it was Thanksgiving, but I was three, so I don’t really remember all the details. I remember her cooking, and then Dad’s parents were over, and I had to dress nice. But I remember her, in this light green dress, dancing to the radio. She let me help her, standing on a step stool so I could reach the stove. I got to stir the vegetables. I just remember being really, really happy.”

“We were normal,” Sam said.

“For a little bit, yeah,” Dean said. “I miss her, Sam, I do. I’ve fought my whole life fix what happened to us. And I think we are. We’re doing something good. I said it in Colorado, and I’ll say it million times, it’s the family business, saving people. We’re doing this for her. Maybe you’re doing for Jess. You had normal with her, I had normal with Mom. Maybe that’s what this thing wanted.”

“Maybe,” Sam said softly. “We have to find it Dad, get this thing outta here, kill it, whatever.”

“We will Sammy,” Dean promised. “We gotta be close if it’s striking back at us. We’ll find a pattern. You’re good at that. We’ll fix it.”

“It hurts, Dean,” Sam whispered.

“I know bud,” Dean nodded. “I wish I could fix it. I’d do anything to fix it. You know that. But if we keep doing what we’re doing, we’ll heal.”

“I hope so,” Sam replied. “Thanks, Jerk.”

“Goodnight, Bitch.”

Dean listened until Sam’s breath evened out, knowing he only had a few hours before the kid woke up screaming. Maybe his little brother would sleep through the night tonight. Dean hoped that he would, Sam deserved better than what he was given. Dean had worked his whole life to make sure Sam got better, and he was still in the back seat of his Dad’s car.

Someday this wouldn’t be their life. Dean would make it right for his brother if it was the last thing he ever did.


Archive of Our Own

Until next time Internet,


Short Story Saturday – Big Brother

I decided to share some of my fanfiction with Y’all today. This story is set before the pilot of Supernatural before Sam is born. The whole arc of the story goes up until the events of the opening scene of the show. This particular piece is 12 chapters long, and I will link to the AO3 at the end of you are interested in reading the rest of it.


“Whatcha doin’?” Dean asked bouncing on the balls of his feet in the doorway of a room that had been an extra bedroom for his whole life, but now for, some reason, his dad was emptying it.

“Nothing, kiddo,” John answered. “I’ll explain later.”

“Can I help?” Dean asked. “I’m a good helper.”

“I don’t think so,” John answered. “Why don’t you go see what your mom’s doing? Maybe she could use some help.”

“She’s reading her book,” Dean replied. “It’s a grown-up book. She told me to go play. So I go-ed upstairs to help. Why are you movin’ all the stuff? Where are the people gonna sleep when they visit?”

“Don’t worry about it, Dean,” John dismissed. “Just go play with your Batman or whatever.”

“But I want to help,” Dean whined. “I’m almost four Daddy, that’s basically a grown up.”

“No, it’s not,” John chuckled. “You’re not a grown-up ‘til you can’t use your fingers to count your age.”

“Oh,” Dean said, bouncing on his feet. “Well, I’m still getting big. I can help. I can move little things.”

“Yeah, sure fine,” John conceded. “Come here.”

Dean squealed excitedly and ran over. “What can I do?”

“Can you move that footstool?” John asked pointing at the piece of furniture. Dean nodded. “Push that into Mom and Dad’s room.”

Dean nodded and took to the task. The stool was almost as high as he was and hard to push across the carpet, but he did his very best. He pushed it out into the hallway and to the next room over, leaving it at the end of his parents’ bed, like it used to be in the guest room. He sprinted back to see what he got to do next. He walked up to his dad and stood next to him, hands clasped behind his back just like his dads were.

“I’m gonna have to pound in some nails,” John sighed.

“I gotta hammer!” Dean exclaimed, rushing out of the room across the hall to return a few seconds later with a tool belt he’d gotten for Christmas two weeks earlier. “I can help real good now.”

“Yeah okay,” John shook his head grabbing a real hammer out of his tool box.

“I need you to buckle this,” Dean instructed, holding the tool belt up. “I don’t know how.”

“Alright,” John smiled kneeling down. “If you’re gonna help, you can’t get in the way when I’m swinging the big hammer. Okay? You stay by the window and work on that board. I’ll do this one.”

Dean nodded with his whole body and gave a thumb’s up. “No more stitches.”

“Exactly,” John ruffled Dean’s hair a pointed over to the window.


Mary was starting to think she needed to carry a disposable camera with her at all times, there was something so adorable about the way Dean tried to do everything John did. Dean following in John’s shadow carrying a plastic hammer from his tool set while John carried a real one was one of the cutest things Mary had ever seen. She was overjoyed that John had given in and let him help. She knew how often Dean helping was actually him being in the way, but it was nice to see her husband putting in the effort. She leaned against the doorframe watching.

“You boys working up working up an appetite?” Mary asked.

Dean spun around nodding.

“I got some sandwiches downstairs waiting.”

“Cut in a triangle?” Dean asked, wiping his forehead with his arm like he was sweating, the same way John did.

“Of course,” Mary smiled.

Dean pushed his way passed his mother and thundered down the stairs.

“You’d think he’d never eaten before,” John chuckled.

“Growin’ boy,” Mary smiled. “You explain what he’s building up here?”

“No,” John shook his head as he walked over to her and pressed his hand against her belly. “All he knows is he’s making a shelf. Well, banging a plastic hammer on a two by four while I build a shelf, but he thinks he’s helping.”

“I think we should tell him,” Mary said. “Before he asks me if I’m getting fat.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” John replied.

“Yeah well,” Mary shrugged. “We should tell him.”

“Right now?” John asked.

“Yeah,” Mary nodded. “The book said to tell them around now. I mean, I was just reading the big sibling chapters, and it’s good to get them involved early. So, you know, since he’s already helping, I figured he might as well know what he’s helping with.”

“Whatever you want,” John nodded. “I was thinking that we just didn’t tell him until we brought it home. Surprise him. Just show up with a baby one day. That way he can’t throw a temper tantrum about it.”

“You’re an idiot,” Mary laughed shaking his head.

“Your idiot,” John smiled kissing her forehead.

“Momma!” a loud voice called from downstairs. “I can’t reach it.”

“Just a second, Baby,” Mary called back. “I’ll be right there.”


Mary sat across the table from Dean, wondering how the hell someone could end up with peanut butter in their hair while eating a sandwich. It was a wonder any of it ended up in his stomach, but on the other hand, that would explain why he was hungry all the time.

Dean’s eyes flicked between his parents. He could tell something was up; they were looking at him funny.

“Am I in trouble?” Dean asked, licking peanut butter off corner of his mouth.

“No,” Mary smiled.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” Dean scrunched his face up in concentration. “That’s the Dean’s in big trouble look.”

“Me and Daddy gotta talk to you about something real important,” Mary said.

“Okay,” Dean nodded.

“How would you feel about having a little brother or sister?” Mary asked carefully.

“I would not like that one bit,” Dean answered seriously shaking his head.

“Why?” Mary asked unable to hide concern from her expression.

“Cuz,” Dean shrugged. “Well, Jamie ‘cross the street has a brother, and he steals all his toys. And one time he eated them. I saw it. He just put a car right in his mouth. And then he had to go to the doctor and get it amoved. I do not need that. And I do not like girls, they are mean. And sisters are usually girls.”

“Alright,” John sighed. “This is gonna be fun.”

“Dean,” Mary said sweetly. “What if we, me and Daddy, told you that we were going to have a baby?”

“I would say, ‘No thanks,’” Dean smiled, eating the rest of sandwich. “I don’t need a sister or brother. I’m all good by myself.”

“Dean,” Mary cleared her throat and switched seats, so she was sitting next to him. She picked up a napkin, licked it and started to scrub the peanut butter off his face. “At the end of April, Daddy and I are going to bring home a new baby, a brother or sister. That’s what Daddy been doing in the guest room. He’s making a room for the baby.”

Dean sighed and shrugged. “Can I help pick it out?” he asked.

“What?” Mary chuckled.

“The brother or sister,” Dean clarified. “Can I help pick them out when you go get it?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mary stammered.

“Mom and I already picked it out,” John jumped it. “We got the pieces for Christmas, like your train set. We just gotta wait for it to be ready.”

“What?” Dean looked between his parents confused. “I don’t understand.”

“We already picked out the baby,” John tried. “It just has to grow.”

“How come you didn’t ask me to help?” Dean asked. “Now what if my brother or sister is a mean face? Or a toy eater? What if it’s a girl? I’m very good at helping. I can help pick it out.”

“Dean,” Mary sighed. “Picking out a baby is something only Mommies and Daddies can do, not kids. But you get to help us get ready for the baby. You can help paint, and build things and pick out decorations for the room.”

“Do I have to have a brother or sister?” Dean pouted. “Cuz I don’t think I want one. I like to have you to myself. I don’t want to share. What if the brother or sister doesn’t like me? What if you like it more than me? What is the new one says ‘I don’t like Dean’ and cuz you like them more than me send me away? I don’t wanna go away! I like it here.”

“Baby,” Mary took Dean’s cheeks in her hands. “We would never send you away. And the new baby will love you because you’ll be the big brother. And you can teach the new baby all sorts of stuff.”

“I don’t know,” Dean mumbled. “You shoulda asked me first.”

“We’re asking you now,” John nodded.

“Well, I said no,” Dean pouted. “And you said too bad. That’s not fair.”

“Sweetheart,” Mary kissed him on the forehead. “Me and Daddy are going to make sure that the new baby likes you and you’ll get to help us get ready. Get the room ready and help pick out stuff for the room and all sorts of stuff.”

“I don’t like this,” Dean sighed. “But this is like when you ask me if I want to the doctor and I say no, and you say I hafta go anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” John said firmly. “It’s just like that.”

“Okay,” Dean looked down at his empty plate sadly. “I guess I will be nice to it. As long as you don’t make it sleep in my bed. I do not want it to have my bed. Or my Batmans. It gets its own Batmans.”

“Okay,” Mary smiled. “We can work with that.”

“Can I see it?” Dean asked.

“The baby?” Mary asked.

Dean nodded enthusiastically. “I want to see it.”

“Umm,” Mary shook her head and locked eyes with her husband, who was leaning back in his chair with a smirk on his face. “Well, sweetheart, the new baby’s not here yet. It won’t be here until after Easter.”

“Then what is all talk about?” Dean demanded. “Maybe it will change its mind and not come. Then this will all be silly.”

“Dean,” John said leaning forward. “You remember how you told me you were a grown up now?”

“Yeah you said I wasn’t a grown up til I can’t count on my fingers no more,” Dean answered.

“Well,” John’s eyes flicked to Mary. “If you’re a big brother, then you’ll be kind of like a grown up.”

Dean’s eyes widened a little bit. “So I can help more? And I can do grown-up things, like play on the swing set by myself?”

“Yeah,” John nodded. “Grown up stuff like that.”

“John,” Mary said shaking her head. “Let’s not go crazy.”

“Trust me,” John insured her. “I think I got this.”

“If I’m a big brother,” Dean pressed. “Can I walk at the grocery store instead of riding in the cart like a baby?”

“If you don’t run off and hold onto the side of the cart,” John nodded. “And don’t wander off away from your mom.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded. “I’m not sure if I like this yet, but if I get to be a little bit of a grown up, I’ll try.”

“That’s all we really want, buddy,” John smiled. “We’ll all try it out together. You think you’re up to helping me get the new room ready? We got a lot of work to do in there.”

Dean nodded. “I’m doing really good at my shelf.”

“When you’re done with that,” Mary smiled. “Maybe you can help me paint, pick out colors and stuff.”

“No girl colors,” Dean said seriously.

“No girl colors,” Mary agreed.

“But when can I meet it?” Dean asked. “Daddy said it had to grow.”

“Right now, Dean,” Mary paused trying to think about how she was going to word this. “Right now the baby’s in here.” She placed her hand on her stomach. “That’s where babies grow.”

Dean shook his head.

“Yeah,” Mary smiled. “If you want to, maybe a little later you can talk to it. I’m gonna go to the doctor next week, and they’re going to take a picture of the baby so you can see it then.”

“This is really weird,” Dean sighed.

“I know sweetie,” Mary chuckled. “But we’ll get through it together, me, you, and daddy. Sound good?”

Dean nodded. He wasn’t sure if he was going to like this baby thing, but he’d try. It seemed like something his mom really wanted. And if there was anything Dean wanted, it was for his mom to be happy.

Here’s the rest if you want

Until next time Internet,