#2hot2handle

I placed the opened beers in front of the boys and took my seat across the table from them. Dean picked up his and took a swig, the action so familiar that he barely paused his argument. “No, I'm offering myself and you can’t stop me.” Sam opened his mouth to protest, “Sam, I’m not letting you go through that. If someone's going face to face with a hound, it's gonna be me.” Dean finished, silencing Sam with the squeal of his chair legs across the concrete. Gripping his beer, he stalked out of the room. Sam picked up his and pretty much finished it in one large gulp.

“I gotta tell you guys something, and you’re not gonna like it.” I’d started, Dean’s shoulders visibly sagged and Sam took a step forwards, his eyes roaming over me, thinking it was something physically wrong. I gestured at the table in the war room and we all sat, the boys across from me. “You’ve got our attention.” Dean broke the silence making me look up from my hands, where I was studying the small scar along the back. “Years ago, before I met you two, something happened and…” I was there again, struggling to breathe in the family room of the hospital. My sister lying on a bed in a coma, no promise of ever coming out of it. She was all I had left and the Doctor’s were telling me there was nothing they could do, I had to pull the plug, “it was the kindest thing”. I shook my head, trying to clear the past from my mind. “Y/N?” Sam questioned, pulling me back to the present. I took a deep breath and continued. “I made a deal, and I’ve got a week left.” It took a moment, but their reactions were predictable: Dean flew off the handle, and Sam’s head collapsed into his hands. “You what?! Why wouldn’t you tell us before? We can get you out of this. You’re not dying for a stupid deal.” Dean had pulled out his phone and had started flicking through contacts. I struggled to keep my voice level, trying to remember why I decided to tell them finally. “It wasn’t a stupid deal, Dean. Don’t you think I knew what I was signing on for?” “Why?” Sam’s question was quiet and almost went unnoticed between the older Winchester’s raised voice and mine. “Why what?” Dean snapped at his younger brother while holding the phone to his ear, standing and pacing. “Why did you make the deal, YN?” He had asked. I gritted my teeth, my nostrils flaring as I took a steadying breath. “My parents and sister were in a car crash. They died immediately, but she managed to survive. And for a day it looked like she got away with a few broken bones. Then they discovered she had a bleed in her brain and…” I swallowed around the thick ball of emotions that seemed to have attached itself to my tonsils, wiping viciously at the tears that threatened to fall. “She slipped into a coma. They operated, but she never woke up. They were telling me to pull the plug. I had to get her back. I couldn’t lose her too.” I studied the scar on the back of my hand again, avoiding the heavy gaze of Sam Winchester, listening as Dean sprang into action. “Crowley, get your ass here now. The Bunker.” Dean demanded into the phone then hung up. “I’m the King of Hell, you can’t just order me about.” Crowley’s quiet voice was sarcastic and angry after suddenly appearing at the foot of the table. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean spat. “It can’t ever just be for a good time.” The king muttered, and Dean began to vibrate with anger. “Fine. I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t your business. I don’t kiss and tell.” He explained, winking at me, receiving a sneer in return. “You need to cancel the deal with Y/N.” Dean ground out between clenched teeth. “No can do.” Crowley sat down at the head of the table, pulling his overcoat out from underneath him, getting comfortable as Dean clearly became more agitated. “Why not?” Dean argued. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold, a business to run, and I’m owed a soul. I kept my part of the bargain.” Crowley was beginning to get bored; he was clearly over this visit already. “A soul? Any soul?” Sam asked, finally looking away from me to turn his attention to the demon. Both Dean and I cottoned on to his way of thinking quickly. “No, Sam, you’re not sacrificing yourself-” I started. “Doesn’t have to be YN’s soul?” Dean questioned, following Sam’s train of thought. “One soul to fulfill the deal.” Crowley said before vanishing. And with that, the debate had started.

They’d been trying to hash it out for hours. How did they get me out of my deal? Dean planned to sacrifice himself, and if I knew the boys at all, Sam would try and beat him to it. Well those boys needed each other. I'd lost my family years back and come to terms with my deal. There was no way I was going to stand by and let one of the brothers take the heat for me. They had each other--they needed each other. “Here.” I said, passing Sam my half empty beer as I stood up. He raised his eyebrows and I nodded, I didn't want to finish it. I couldn't. I watched as Sam finished it in two large gulps. “We’re not letting him do this, YNN, don't worry. Dean’s not going anywhere.” Sam misread my staring as concern, but I was simply waiting. Sam stood and I met him at the head of the table, hugging him tightly as he wrapped his arms around me. He began to sag, he was damned heavy, but I held up his weight. “Whass happenenn…” Sam slurred, his arms dropping from my back and hanging at his sides. “Easy there,” I whispered, helping him as his legs collapsed from under him. I tried my best to lay him down slowly and without hurting him. “YNN, wha haff you…” I rested his head on the concrete and shed my hoodie, bundling it and placing it under his heavy head. “It’ll be alright, Sammy. Dean’s not going anywhere.” I repeated his words back to him. I saw his brain working and then the realization, his eyes tried to go wide as his lids sagged and finally closed. He’d managed to grip my hand on his way down and it was still firm. I squeezed his hand and leant forward, kissing his forehead, before prying his fingers open and releasing myself.

...

“Dean?” I whispered into the dark room. “Yeah, YN?” Dean responded, I was surprised to find him still awake, but I hadn't really been sure of the amounts to give. How much would take down a Winchester? I’d given Sam the extra in my bottle, just because he was such a moose, but Dean… “Can I come in?” I asked, opening the door further to see him lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Of course, I wanted to talk to you.” He added while pushing himself up. He looked tired, maybe the drug was slowly taking hold. “Oh?” I moved into the room and sat on the end of the bed, opposite the man I secretly loved. “Yeah.” He swallowed thickly and tried to raise a hand but thought better of it and placed it back under his tipping weight. “I wanted to say I'm sorry.” He said, his words were coming out heavier than they usually did when he drank. It was definitely the drug, and I was kicking myself that it wouldn't just give us five more minutes. “Sorry for what?” Dean needed to stop being cryptic--our time was quickly running out. “Sorry that I’ve never told you…” Dean took a deep breath and held out his hand to me. I took it willingly, but before I could question him he pulled me toward him. I landed on his chest and we both tipped back, his head almost bouncing as it landed on the pillow, my own quite near his. “YNN…” Dean slurred, his eyes were staring at my lips, half hooded and not quite focused. I closed the distance and kissed him. Just a peck before I pulled back and looked at him. He was still for a moment, I began to think it wasn’t what he wanted at all, but then he leaned forward and his lips were on mine once again. Our mouths fitted together like they'd found home; I ran my tongue along his bottom lip and his crept out to meet mine. They twirled and teased for half a second before his grew heavy and turned into just a wet muscle intruding in my space. I pulled back and planted a kiss to his slowly closing mouth. He was out. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” I whispered close to his ear before pressing my lips against his once more. I pulled together all my strength and willed myself out Dean’s door. I grabbed my keys and tugged on my jacket as I climbed the steel steps to the main door of the bunker. I looked around the place I called home and patted the wall as I pushed the door open, knowing all of my regret would wash away somehow, and that the hardest part was over. But as that metal door locked shut behind me, I also knew that I could not forget the way I felt right now.

...

I stuck the keys in the ignition of the beat up buggy and stuttered it to life. The radio blared from the last time I had been driving, scaring the living daylights outta me. But as I turned it down, I caught the lyrics of a song long forgotten. The tune was so appropriate, I had to laugh. Our lives are made, in these small hours. These little wonders, these twists and turns of fate. Time falls away, but these small hours still remain. Very few hours, small or otherwise, remained for me. I drove the length of the dirt road to where it intersected the small farm lane. I pulled over to the side of the road and took the trowel from the trunk, tucking the small metal box under my arm. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the cross roads and pushed the spade into the dirt. “Don't dirty yourself, love.” Crowley growled above me. I looked up at the man in the black coat and put the box down, dropping the trowel and pushing myself to standing. “How'd you know?” I asked, making sure there was a safe distance between us. “Let's just say it was a slow night.” He winked, making me feel uneasy. I looked him over, sniffing once and then dusting my hands on my jeans. “I wanna change our deal.” I said. “Really? I thought this was a dinner date.” His tone dripped sarcasm and I had to take a deep breath to steady my anger. “Come on, darling. Begging isn’t attractive on you, and we both already know you have no hand to play.” “I want you to sic the hound on me.  Sooner rather than later.” There it was, out in the open. “And why would I do that?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, the padded shoulders of his coat raising level to his chin. I had thought on that question, and I had several arguments in place: we both knew it was a never ending battle if one of the boys took my place, we both knew the angels were invested in the Winchesters and they’d wage war again to get them out, and we both knew he wanted them alive and saving the world so he could keep making his deals. “Because if it goes down any other way, I’ll devote the rest of my life to destroying you. And you’ve seen me in action.” The King of Hell weighed that for a moment, his teeth grinding, his jaw muscles rippling under the scruff on his face. He snorted a chuckle and raised a hand, clicking his fingers.

...

The impala made the gravel crackle under its wheels as it came to a stop. The boys jumped out and began towards me before they saw my whole body jump with the force of something pounding at the closed factory doors at my back. “Is that the hound?” Sam called, quickly coming towards me to help hold it off until I held up a hand. Dean went for his gun, “I thought we had a week!” “Stop! It wants me.” I yelled to them. Truth be told I’d been waiting for them to track my phone and find me, holding off the hound to have one last goodbye. I wasn't ready to die without seeing them one more time. “What have you done?” Dean yelled over the growling. “Oh, you're just annoyed I beat you to it.” I joked back. In all honesty I was terrified, holding this demon dog at bay was tough enough, but it was worth it to know Dean and Sam would come out of this alive. “Y/N, why?” Sam groaned, his shoulders sagging where he'd frozen. “Cause you two need each other.” I gave Sam a sad smile, committing his eyes to memory, that friendly hazel would get me through years on the rack. Then I turned my attention to Dean, his look of anger became desperate as he read the resolution in my eyes. “Y/N, please…” “I love you both.” I had meant to call it out to them, make sure they heard it, but it came out as a cracked whisper. I took a step forward and turned around as the doors flung open. Even though she was terrifying and hideous, there was a certain beauty to this hellish beast. I held my arms wide and welcomed the promise of death. Her paws landed on my chest, pushing me to the ground hard enough to knock the breath from me. I clenched my teeth and moaned against the first claw, but I made sure not to scream. That, I was most proud of. My boys might have the memory of seeing it happen, but they wouldn't be haunted by my screams.

When you die it all goes black for a moment. Like you've clenched your eyes shut and then finally opened them. Time falls away and for a moment, all your troubles fall behind you. But when I opened them I was standing over my body, a brunette woman standing next to me. “I’m dead?” I asked. She nodded, looking toward the Winchester’s who were still standing at a distance. Though Sam seemed to be holding Dean back. I could see the hellhound backing off from my lifeless form, I could see Sam’s hesitation as he looked around. “What happened?” The woman asked, finally turning back to me. “What?” The question caught me by surprise. “Well…” she smiled, “I was expecting Dean.” She explained. “I made the deal.” I shrugged, watching as the two boys finally raced toward my body, Dean pulling me into his arms. I couldn't watch any more and turned my back to it. “Sorry.” The woman said, drawing my attention back to her. “For what? Being the delivery woman? I’m the one who made the deal. I know where I’m headed” “It ain’t gonna be much fun.” She seemed kind, consoling even. Truth be told, I didn’t mind, not when the boys were scratch free and still breathing. “Well… we best be going then.” She turned from my body and started towards the factory. As we reached the door she stopped me and turned to face me. “If you could go back and do it all over again, would you?” She asked, almost like it was a box she needed to tick. I glanced back at the scene behind me. “Yes. It was just the twists and turns of fate. And honestly, my life was full of little wonders.” I thought of Sam’s eyes, Dean’s smile, the taste of his lips...laughing with them between cases...walking my baby sister down the aisle and watching her marry a good man--flashes of my life that made the rest worth it. These small hours still remain.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves above, shining midday beams down into the clearing. The strong scent of the forest filtered through Sam’s lungs, cleansing him. Usually the simple moment was a quick fix to calm his nerves. Today, he was not so lucky. The sun caught in his eyes, exposing his nerves to the man beside him. The give of the earth beneath his feet grounded Sam, reminding him that this was real. He never gave much thought to if this day would come, and when it finally did he couldn’t help but be taken over by the swell of emotions that hit him. The overbearing pull to drag him under.

 He could feel Dean beside him, standing as a pillar of support, but the knowledge of his presence felt almost dreamlike. He could sense him, feel his eyes watching him, but he felt untethered. Felt as if he was being pulled in all directions, his heart yearning to run but his feet stuck. He was both present and lost to the world. 

His eyes locked onto you, shroud in white before him. The sight brought fresh tears to his eyes, memories quickly flooding to the surface, pooling in a mass of forgotten words and lingering glances. He could feel the softness of your skin, hear the lilt of your voice. The memories felt like gauze, meshy and delicate pieces of a life he cherished. Precious moment clipped through his mind in a rapid pace.

“Do you remember the first hunt?” He asked out loud, not sure who he was attempting to speak to.

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice was low, a soft response pushing through the cobwebs Sam found himself stuck in. “It was the vamp hunt out in Tennessee, right?” 

Sam could picture that night as if it were yesterday.

“Yeah,” his voice was thick, emotions conflicting within him. “She came ripping into that room… those vamps didn’t know what hit them.” Pride sparked in his check at the words.

A flickering memory roared into view. He could see you, the worn wooden handle of a machete clutched in your fist, knuckles white with your grip. Your chest heaved with thick, heavy breaths, adrenaline coursing through you. The fight was barely over. Your y/e/c eyes burned in the low light of the basement, a smirk playing on your lips. You had swung into the fight as two vampires had rounded on Sam, the glint of your weapon startling him as he noticed their presence.

“Sam Winchester,” you had laughed, stress rolling off your blood splattered shoulders, “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

You extended your hand, black ink wrapping around your wrist in a such a way that Sam knew too well, his heart jumping beneath his own.

“Do I know you?” His eyes locked with yours, ignoring the extended greeting. He watched the hurt skirt across your face as you pulled your arm back, the look sending a coil of regret to pang through him. He cursed himself for the response, questioning the emotions he felt churning. 

“Right, sorry.” Your previously friendly cadence was quickly replaced with stoic professionalism. A wall was thrown up, and Sam found himself banging against it, wishing for the bright warrior from moments ago. “I’m not as renowned as you Winchesters.”

You ran scarred fingers through your hair, the motion more difficult than usual due to the sweat, blood, and gore that had lodged itself atop your scalp. Quickly, you regretted the action. 

“Name’s y/n.” A small smile broke across your face as you made eye contact with the tall man before you. The small gesture wearing down his last bit of resolve. Sam had never admitted it, never told a soul about the emotions that flooded him that night you met him in the dark, but in that moment, he knew he was done for. He could never let go.

“She was a badass from the start,” Dean laughed, pulling Sam out of his head. The sound was forced, cut short in the still air.

“I love her man.” A burning lump choked Sam’s words, distorting the sounds as they left his mouth. “I need her.”

The silence around them was suffocating, stirring anxiety and fear in the stillness. It was too much, too much everything, and Sam could feel it all weighing down upon him. His mind was rioting, stirring up things he didn’t want to see, didn’t want to witness again. The voices in his head ricocheted and echoed, amplifying to the point of physical pain.

To Sam, you were everything. You were light in a dark world. He knew you came from the same dark places he had been, but you carried yourself as if you were untarnished by it. He was in awe of it. What he didn’t know was you were just better at hiding the rot.

You had gotten into the life like many others, a terrible night that ripped the blinders from your eyes and normalcy from your veins. Your family had been attacked by a group of werewolves while camping, leaving you alone, young, and wounded in a backwoods campsite in Maine. The mental scars were manifested physically by a thick cord of scar tissue that wrapped down your torso, a permanent reminder each night in the bathroom mirror of your shortcomings.

When you had caught wind of victims piling up in Maine, chest cavities vacant of an essential organ, you knew you had to go. Sam had found you in a flurry. You were a tornado, whipping around the room with force, throwing flannel and silver haphazardly into a duffle bag.

 “Hey, whoa!” He reached for you, the skin of your arm barely in his grasp before you pulled free, paying no mind to his attempt as you continued with your whirlwind movements.

 “Baby, slow down, what are you doing?” Panic was creeping into his voice, his words pulling together, trying to get anything out of you.

 “I have to go.” Another flannel flew into the bag, a balled up pair of leggings quick to follow.

 “Go? Go where?”

 “Back to Maine.”

“Maine? What th- hey!” He reached for your wrist again, catching the inked flesh mid motion. “What are you talking about?” Your eyes were skirting the room, panic barely hidden beneath their bright surface. “Baby, talk to me.”

A deep breath pulled through you, collecting your thoughts before speaking. “The werewolves,” you started, the anxiety of the whole ordeal catching up to you, “the werewolves that got my family, I think they’re back.”

“What- how do you know?” He ran his hands down your arm, trying to soothe the panic he could see building.

“Victims, four of them popping up right around where it happened before. Their hearts are missing, Sam! It has to be them!” Tears began pooling in your eyes, welling up on the cusp of falling.

He let go of you, searching within his closet, for what you didn’t know. He pushed aside copious flannel, all hanging erratically from plastic hangers.

“Sam, what are you looking for?” Your words fell on deaf ears and he stooped lower into the closet. He returned to the bed, his go bag in hand. Looming over you, he locked eyes with yours.

“I’m coming with you.” His tone was final, but you were too stubborn too give in. 

“No you’re not. I can’t go losing anyone else to them!” The panic was coming back, a shrill note edging its way into your voice. “It’s my fight! It’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about? You were just a kid, y/n/n.” He kept his voice even, not wanting to push you closer to the brink you were teetering upon.

“I should have known better.”

“About what? Werewolves, how does that make any sense?”

“I just should have, okay! Then everything would be fine, it’d be normal!” You weren’t making any sense, your thoughts were a cataclysmic ball of anxious energy waiting to snap inside you. Logically you knew you weren’t being fair, but the need to get out and get to Maine overrode any logical thought in your mind. “Just let me go, Sam! This is my baggage to deal with!” 

Sam could feel the tension inside of him boiling, pushing to the top and daring him to say something he’d regret. He knew the taste of vengeance, had let it get the best of him many a time, and could see that flame in you. Reaching for you once more, he tried to still your movement, keep you from self-destructing before him.

“Hey, hey, hey, just slow down. Okay. This is not your fault. I don’t care about your damn baggage. I just want you. . I just want you safe, and happy, and if getting you out to Maine to stop these werewolves will do that, then so be it, but, fuck, y/n, I’m not letting you go out there alone!” His hazel eyes searched for your wandering ones, praying to get his words to hit home. “I can’t lose you either. Okay?”

You looked up at him, no longer able to keep your composure. Tears were streaming down your face, sticky in the humid air of the room. The sudden onslaught of suppressed pain was too much. You curled into Sam, breathing him in and tethering yourself to his presence, afraid you’d get swept away. “Just say you won’t let go,” you whispered into his tee-shirt. 

“I won’t, I promise.”

The memory of those words sent a hollow ache through his chest. If he had known that this was how it would turn out, would he have let you go? Would you even have let him make that decision? Your steadfast stubbornness was hard to break, and even now he knew that it would have been impossible to stop you from going to Maine. That dark desire for the blood of those monsters was something you had festered on for too long to just let it go.

You three had been able to track down the pack fast enough, Dean coming along after hearing the severity of the hunt. Each victim had been mauled around a central point of the Katahdin woods, a mountainous wilderness near the top of Maine. A day’s hike into the woods had led you close to where you believed the pack was nesting. A quick campsite was erected and shifts were distributed amongst the hunters to be on the lookout for anything suspicious.

Sam woke in the middle of the night to bloodcurdling screams coming from outside his tent. He ripped through the door, not caring if the tent was destroyed with his actions. He knew who had screamed. He prayed he was wrong.

Tearing through the woods he bellowed your name, his voice echoing around him. The distant sound of boots snapping twigs behind him alerted him to the fact Dean had woken to the commotion.

“Y/N!” He yelled again, pausing to hear any response in return. Moving deeper into the woods, sweeping a large circle around the campsite, he knew you couldn’t be too far.

“Sam?” Your voice was weak, but close by. He moved further, close towards where he thought you may be.

A large tree grew before him, shrouded in the utter darkness of the night. Squinting he saw the hunched form of what he thought could only be you leaning against the tree. As a neared he felt ice fill his chest, tendrils of terror looping through his veins that launched him closer to you.

“Baby,” he whispered, cradling your face in his calloused hands, “baby, what happened?” He couldn’t see well, but he knew that the spreading dark stain in the dirt was not water.

“I-” your voice caught in your throat, “I got ‘em.” Your teeth were dark, equally dark liquid pooling around your lips.

“Dean!” He shouted, “Get over here!” The distant sound of boots on forest floor registered somewhere in his mind, but his attention quickly turned back to you.

“I’m so proud of you, baby, but what happened to you.” His fingers prodded you, looking for where the blood was coming from. Your hand enclosed around his, guiding it to the open wound across your torso, a matching tear to the healed one you loathed at night. Tears welled in his eyes as he made quick work of patching the wound.

 “They got me, Sammy, bu-but it’s ‘kay. I go’ ‘em.” Your words were slurring, blood bubbling around your lips. Sam felt Dean kneel beside him, hands hovering over y/n, trying to help in anyway he could.

“Hey, princess,” he whispered, “I thought I told you that we didn’t want you looking like the Bride of Frankenstein.” His voice was thick, emotions running high amongst the hunters.

“Shu’ up, Dean, she’s hot and you kno-know it.” The boys laughed, but Sam knew this was it. He could see the blue taking over your face in the pale moonlight. He could hear your voice fading. They were a four hour hike back to the Impala and stuck somewhere in the Hundred Mile Wilderness, a complete dead zone.

Sam sunk down, pulling you closer to his chest. His lips fell towards the shell of your ear, hoping you could hear him. 

“I love you so much, y/n. Look at you, look how far you’ve come.” 

“I go’ ‘em.”

“I know baby, I know you did. Just hold on, okay. Just hold on to me.” His chest burned, the pain blooming throughout him was unbearable.

“I lo’e you too, Sammy. Prom’se me.”

“Promise what.”

“You’know.”

Sam took in a shaky breath, the words you wanted hurting his heart too much to say. “I won’t let go, y/n/n. I promise.”

The weight of Dean’s hand on his shoulder tore him from the memory, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. The flames were getting high now, almost reaching the tree line. He walked closer the structure, face wet with pain. He never thought this day would come, even in their line of work he had thought that you two would beat the odds. He wanted to grow old with you, watch your hair turn gray and dance in your quaint house’s kitchen. You didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to be burning on a pyre before your skin could wrinkle. Anger and pain and a bitter numbness swirled inside him as he watched the smoke curl towards the sky.

Call me, baby, if you need a friend I just wanna give you love C'mon, c'mon, c'mon Reaching out to you, so take a chance 

You step out of your car with tears running down your cheeks, wishing for nothing more than a friend. You can’t call Dean or Sam with this problem; they told you he was no good for you. Choking back sobs as you open the door to the dingy hotel room, so no one will bother you. You get inside and let them out.

“Y/n?” Cas asks from the bed.

“Cas, what are you doing here?” you ask, wiping the tears away, holding back the sobs for a moment. You tug your sleeves down to hide the bruises.

“I was concerned; you would not answer your phone,”

“I was on a date Cas, it’s no big deal,” you whisper.

“A date?” he asks.

“Yes Cas, a date,” you state.

“With who?”

“You don’t want to know,” you say and avoid his gaze.

“What happened?” he demands.

“Nothing Cas,” you whisper and walk past him. He grabs your wrist gently and you flinch.

“What did he do?” Cas demands.

“Nothing,” you lie.

“Do I need to pay him a visit?”

“Cas don’t bother him,” you whisper.

“Tell me,”

“He got a little rough when I told him no is all,” you whisper.

“Did he touch you?” Cas demands, anger overtaking his usually stoic features.

“No,” you whisper, reassuring him. He relaxes and holds you as you fall asleep. 

No matter where you go You know you’re not alone I’m only one call away I’ll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I’m only one call away

“They’re gone Cas,” you sob quietly into the seat of your car. Sam was lost to the Cage, Dean went to Lisa, and Cas, you don’t know where Cas went.

“They left me, you can’t leave me too,” you cry.

“I wouldn’t,” Cas says and pulls you to him. You curl into him and cry.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle.

“Why?” he asks.

“I shouldn’t cry on you, it’ll make you leave. I’ll just scare you away like I have everyone else,” you whisper.

“It’s all right. You can’t scare me away,” he whispers and you cry yourself to sleep on the sweet angel.

Come along with me and don’t be scared I just wanna set you free C'mon, c'mon, c'mon You and me can make it anywhere For now, we can stay here for a while ‘Cause you know, I just wanna see you smile 

You avoid Cas’ glance as you look out across the water.

“Why don’t you smile?” he asks.

“I do smile Cas, it’s just not often,” you whisper.

“Why do you hunt?”

“It’s what I’ve been doing forever, I was raised into it, you know that,” you look at Cas curiously.

“I know you were raised into it, but you could get out you’re smart,” he says.

“But if I got out I’d have to cut all my ties, that would mean you,” you explain.

“Then I’m glad you chose hunting,” he smiles.

“Me too,” you say with a smile.

No matter where you go You know you’re not alone I’m only one call away I’ll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I’m only one call away

“Cas,” you breathe, praying with what little strength you have. Blood coming out of the hole in your stomach, the angel hasn’t been as responsive lately. He was once your friend, now you aren’t sure, he won’t answer prayers, and when he does he isn’t acting normal.

“Please Cas,” you plead, hunters’ deaths have been bloody since the beginning. You just don’t want to die alone.

“I can fix it,” Cas whispers.

“Where the hell have you been?” you demand, struggling to sit up to yell at him.

“Lay back,” he says and reaches towards your forehead. You grab his wrist.

“Stop, tell me where you’ve been,” you plead.

“After I heal you,” his blue eyes searching yours. You notice some wear on him that wasn’t there before and an exhausted look in his eyes.

“Fine,” you breathe and he touches your forehead. Your abdomen stops bleeding and you sit up grabbing his tie.

“Where the hell have you been?” you demand. Fear takes over his features and he backs as far away as his tie will allow.

“I cannot tell you,” he whispers.

“Why not?” you ask.

“It would endanger you,” he says.

“Cas, you don’t get to pop in when you feel like it, I miss you, you’re all I have. Do you think Sam and Dean are talking to me?” you ask.

“I am sorry they are upset with you,” he says.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful last time I hunted with them,” you say shaking your head. He helps you up and walks you to your car.

“Thanks Cas. See you soon?” you ask.

“I will see you soon,” 

And when you’re weak I’ll be strong I’m gonna keep holding on Now don’t you worry, it won’t be long Darling, and when you feel like hope is gone Just run into my arms

“I am your New God,” Cas says.

“What?” you ask, looking at Cas. He came to you in a dingy motel room, after weeks of silence. He is looking worse, similar to what Lucifer’s first vessel looked like.

“I am God now, that is what I could not tell you,” he whispers.

“Cas, we can fix this,” you say.

“Fix it? I am God, there is nothing to fix,” he roars. You flinch away from him and he reaches for you.

“Do not fear me, I am still Castiel,” he whispers.

“Cas nothing good can come from this, whatever is giving you all this power we have to get rid of it,” you plead.

“I am sorry, I am God you must understand that,” he says and is gone again. 

I’m only one call away I’ll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I’m only one, I’m only one call away I’ll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I’m only one call away I’m only one call away 

“Cas,” you pray between sobs. Cas released the Leviathan into the world, and walked himself into the water supply of Sioux Falls. You’ll probably never see those bright blue eyes or his messy dark hair. He’ll never hold you again, you’ll never feel safe like that again.

“Cas please you have to be alive,” you plead.