Ririfor20

Started using tumbler a year ago, was barely able to figure it out and shit like this happens. Have no clue how to deal with this crap, so will be spiralling for few days👍🏻

“But that’s all I have!” Dean whisper-shouts. “That’s the only thing I can give you! I don’t bring smarts to the table like you Sammy, or magic transportation and healing voodoo like Cas! I just…all I can give you is an extra body for whoever tries to hurt you to go through first.”

The chapel smells like damp wood, old dust, and something coppery that won’t quite fade. Dean tells himself the witch is dead and bleeding on the floor tends to do that, but his nose doesn’t buy it.

The place is small. Too small. One aisle, broken pews shoved against the walls, a warped altar that looks like it hasn’t seen prayer in decades. The stained-glass windows are cracked but intact, colors bleeding together in sick reds and golds where the sun forces its way in.

Dean hates churches.

Not for religious reasons.

For memory reasons.

“You good?” Sam asks.

Dean doesn’t turn around. He’s scraping dried blood off his knuckles with the edge of a half-burned hymn book, jaw tight, shoulders locked.

“Fine.”

Too fast. Too clean.

Sam notices. Sam always notices.

“You sure?” Sam asks. “That spell-”

“Cas said it’d wear off,” Dean snaps, then exhales. “Sorry. I’m good.”

Sam studies him. Dean can feel it, that quiet weight that’s been sitting on him since the witch collapsed mid-incantation and something cold crawled up his spine.

Truth spell.

Because of course it was.

Dean straightens, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s torch the body and bounce. I want pie. Preferably before this place gives me a rash.”

Sam doesn’t move. “Dean.”

There it is. That tone.

“What?”

“You just said,” Sam says carefully, “that you never left because you didn’t think we’d survive without you.”

The words land wrong. Like they don’t belong to him.

“I did not say that.”

“You did.”

“No,” Dean says. “What I said was-”

Nothing comes out.

His chest tightens, sharp and sudden, like missing a step on the stairs.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters.

Sam’s eyes flick to the sigil burned into the floor. “You’re still under it.”

“No, I’m under a bullshit spell,” Dean snaps. Then, quieter, “Okay. Same thing.”

He grabs his jacket. “Drop it. We’re done.”

Sam stays put.

“You said you were fine,” Sam says.

Dean lets out a short laugh. “Yeah. That’s kinda my brand.”

“Dean.”

The way Sam says his name stops him. Not angry. Not accusing. Just concerned, open in a way that makes Dean want to bolt.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for years,” Sam says. “You always change the subject.”

“That’s because the subject sucks.”

“You don’t get to dodge this one.”

Dean looks around like something might save him. A demon. A fire alarm. Divine intervention. Nothing shows.

“Great,” he mutters. “Trapped in a murder church with Dr. Phil.”

“You stayed,” Sam says. “When Dad went off the rails. When everything got worse. You stayed.”

Dean stiffens.

“You didn’t leave,” Sam continues. “Not like I did.”

The truth spell hums under Dean’s skin, subtle and relentless.

“You ever notice,” Dean says slowly, “how I’m always the one still standing there when everybody else is gone?”

Sam frowns. “What does that mean?”

“I mean gone,” Dean says. “Not dead. Just… not there.”

He turns fully toward Sam.

“You left.”

“I had to,” Sam says.

“I know,” Dean says immediately.

The speed of it startles them both.

“I know,” he repeats, quieter. “That’s the problem.”

Sam hesitates. “Dean-”

“You think I didn’t wanna run?” Dean cuts in. “You think I didn’t dream about it? Getting out? Being normal?”

He laughs, bitter. “Man, I used to stare at college brochures in motel rooms like they were porno mags.”

Sam’s brow furrows. “You never told me that.”

“Because it didn’t matter,” Dean snaps. “It was never on the table.”

He snorts. ”And at some point I convinced myself normal is for losers anyway, right...”

He starts pacing, restless energy bleeding out.

“You had a door. Stanford. A clean break. I had Dad. You. A job description.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Didn’t say it was.”

Dean stops.

“I ran,” he says. “Plenty of times. You just never noticed because I always came back.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “When?”

“Flagstaff.”

Sam flinches.

“You ran,” Dean says. “I found you. And Dad tore into me because I failed. Not you. Me.”

Sam swallows. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Dean says. “You know what I found out later?”

Sam shakes his head.

“That was one of your good memories.”

Silence stretches thin.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean says. “It’s yours. You’re allowed.”

Sam’s voice cracks. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t care about you.”

“I know,” Dean says, almost pleading. “That’s not the point.”

He rubs a hand over his face.

“I had a dad once,” he says quietly. “Before.”

Sam freezes.

“He laughed, taught me how to throw ball....He trusted me. He was good.”

Dean’s voice wobbles.

“And then Mom died. And so did he. Just slower.”

Sam swallows. “I didn’t know him like that.”

“I know.”

“You got to hate him,” Dean says. “You got to be mad.”

He shakes his head. “I missed him.”

Sam doesn’t speak.

“And even when he died,” Dean goes on, “he couldn’t let me go.”

“The deal,” Sam says.

Dean laughs, hollow. “Yeah.”

“You really believe he made that deal just to save me?” Dean asks.

Sam hesitates.

Dean doesn’t wait for the answer.

“He made it because he knew I’d finish the job. Because I’d protect you. Because I wouldn’t leave.”

His voice drops.

“Because I never do.”

The truth spell hums, merciless.

Dean looks up, his eyes brimming with tears and a desperate vulnerability, his gaze locking onto Sam with a heartbreaking plea. “I don’t know how to leave,” Dean admits.

The words fall heavy in the chapel.

Sam steps closer, hand hovering, then settling on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Dean lets out a weak breath of a laugh. “Funny. Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m here,” Sam says.

Dean looks at him for a long moment.

Then, still under the last dying edge of the spell, he says'

“Yeah. For now.”

And somehow, that hurts worse than anything else.

I got into Supernatural at the beginning of this year and completed all 15 seasons in less than a month and have been hyperfixating ever since....I know i have a problem but that's a different conversation ☺️✨

This is one my SPN works that I had locked up on my notes app for months coz I wasn't sure if it was good enough. I feel like Supernatural charecters r very emotionally complex and it's important to do them justice so I was stalling kinda.

EXCEPT HE'S NOTHING LIKE THE WINTER SOLDIER. HE'S NOT THE GUY HE FOUGHT AT THE AIRPORT. NOT THE COLD BLOODED ASSASSIN THE NATION FEARS. THIS IS BUCKY.

Or peter befriends Bucky Barnes of the past and learns about the boy before the fall.

One night, Bucky took Peter up to the rooftop. A warm breeze blew over the city as stars blinked through the smog.

"You ever look up and feel like the whole sky’s just waiting for you?" Bucky asked.

Peter grinned. "Yeah. Then I fall off the fire escape."

Bucky laughed, tossing an arm around his shoulder. "That’s what friends are for. To catch you when you’re dumb."

Peter smiled faintly. "You really care about people, don’t you?"

Bucky shrugged. "Someone once told me we don’t get to choose the world we’re born into. But we can decide what we stand for. I stand for my people. That’s it."

Peter looked at him with wide eyes, like he was seeing something sacred.

God! how he wishes he could save this man from the horror that his future holds. He's too good, too pure. He doesn't deserve the future he's dealt with. No one does. But specially not him.

The air hums with quiet energy. The actors had just returned from the after party of Endgame premier. The last thing they expected was a void of dark space opening up inside the room. They step into the space cautiously.

Across from them, their CHARACTERS stand waiting Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Thor, Bucky Barnes, and Sam Wilson.

There's silence.

Then, movement.

ROBERT & TONY

ROBERT: (softly) So... this is real.

TONY: You tell me. You’re the one who made me exist. Made me funny....heroic.

ROBERT: You made yourself heroic.

TONY: It cost me everything.

ROBERT: I know. And if I could take that weight off your shoulders...

TONY: (cuts him off) You already did. You gave people hope. Showed them a version of me they could love. Even if I didn’t always deserve it.

ROBERT: You did. Every second. I wish I could’ve saved you.

TONY: Maybe you did. Just not in the way you think.

They shake hands. It turns into a hug.

CHRIS EVANS & STEVE ROGERS

STEVE: You carry my legacy well.

CHRIS: (chokes a laugh) I carry your pain too.

STEVE: You shouldn’t have to. I made choices...left people behind.

CHRIS: You tried to do the right thing. Even when it hurt. You deserved that happy ending. The universe can let you have this one good thing. It has to.

STEVE: You played me like you understood that burden.

CHRIS: Because I did. Because I had to.

It's been an honour Captain.

STEVE: Then thank you. For making me more than a symbol.

They shaked hands with firm grips. Not to prove strength but solidarity.

SCARLETT & NATASHA

NATASHA: You're not what I expected.

SCARLETT: Neither were you. I didn’t know how broken you were when I started.

NATASHA: You gave me dignity.

SCARLETT: And you gave me purpose.

(Smiles softly)

NATASHA: You knew how I’d end. And still, you kept going.

SCARLETT: I had to. For women like you.

They stand close. No need for more words.

MARK & BRUCE

MARK: You’re quieter than I imagined.

BRUCE: I’ve said enough in my lifetime.

MARK: I used to be afraid of playing you. I thought... what if I get it wrong?

BRUCE: You got it right. You showed people the cost of anger. And how to live with it.

MARK: Did you ever really forgive yourself?

BRUCE: Still working on it.

MARK: Me too.

They exchange a nod. Mutual understanding.

JEREMY & CLINT

CLINT: You ever feel invisible in the middle of everything?

JEREMY: All the time.

CLINT: Then you know what it’s like to keep going anyway.

JEREMY: You’re not just the guy with a bow. You’re the guy who shows up. That mattered. It's been fun....playing you.

CLINT: Thanks for seeing me.

JEREMY: Thanks for letting me.

HEMSWORTH & THOR

THOR: Do I truly sound like that?

HEMSWORTH: Majestically, yeah.

THOR: I was lost. You made me laugh again.

HEMSWORTH: You made me brave. Playing you let me grow.

THOR: I thought strength meant never falling. But you showed them my heart.

HEMSWORTH: It’s what made you worthy.

They clasp forearms. Warriors, brothers.

SEBASTIAN & BUCKY

SEBASTIAN: You haunt me. Even off screen.

BUCKY: I haunt myself.

SEBASTIAN: I wanted to get your pain right. But I didn’t know how deep it went. I thought by showing people the man behind the mask...the real Bucky, i could... i could save you. In a way.

BUCKY: I didn’t ask to be saved.

SEBASTIAN: I know. But you deserved it anyway.

BUCKY: (voice rising) They all look at me like I’m a weapon.

SEBASTIAN: Because they’re scared. Not of you...of what the world let happen to you.

BUCKY: (chocked voice) I was just a kid from Brooklyn.

SEBASTIAN: I never forgot that.

BUCKY: You looked anyway. Most don’t.

SEBASTIAN: You weren’t just the Winter Soldier. You were the boy in Brooklyn who protected Steve.

BUCKY: And now you protect me.

SEBASTIAN: Always.

(They sit side by side. Not touching, but close)

ANTHONY & SAM

SAM: So I made it.

ANTHONY: Damn right, you did.

SAM: You gave me a voice I didn’t know I was allowed to have.

ANTHONY: You gave me pride.

SAM: I still doubt myself sometimes.

ANTHONY: Good. Means you still give a shit. But don’t stop flying.

They bump fists.

TOM & PETER

PETER: This is insane. You look like me older, British, and... tired.

TOM: (chuckles) I am tired...been busy. But seeing you...it’s like looking at the part of me that still believes in everything.

PETER: People treat me like a kid.

TOM: You are. But you’re stronger than any of us.

PETER: Do you cry when l.... when I get hurt?

TOM: (softly) Every single time. Because I feel you. I feel your pain, your fear.... Your heart that's too big for that 15 year old body.

PETER: (voice trembling) It hurts. Losing people. Messing up. Being alone.

TOM: I know. But you keep trying. That’s why I love you.

(Peter throws his arms around Tom. Tom holds him tight, eyes stinging.)

TOM: You’re not alone. Never were.

PETER: Thank you. For seeing the good in me.

TOM: It’s impossible not to.

As they gather once more, Actor and Character side by side, the void begins to dissolve into starlight.

ROBERT: What happens now?

TONY: You go back. We stay. But this moment...it lives in both worlds.

CHRIS: Will we remember?

STEVE: Maybe not with your minds. But your hearts will know.

TOM: See you later kid. Remember who you are. Not what they believe.

PETER: (teary eyed) I'll try.

Each pair shares a final glance, a silent farewell.

Then the actors step back into their world, changed.

Because they had met the souls they carried...and learned just how human their heroes truly were.

A tale as old as time,