#hunter jess

(also shout-out @docilelucille cause I stole some of these from them)

Cas' female vessel was a lesbian and uh source? Cas told me

(god) Jack and (queen of hell) Rowena have dinner together every weekend

Ruby's two vessels knew each other pre being used by Ruby

Jess also grew up in the hunter life, going to college to escape it like Sam did

Sam dyed his hair a couple times in college and Jess would straddle him to help

Sam and Jess would watch horror movies and since neither of them were actually afraid of them, they took turns pretending to be the scared one and cuddling into the other

Cas owns a cat named Honeybee

Micheal and Adam are both happy and alive and they live on a nice little farm with animals and stuff

Dean and Cas are both happy and alive and they live in a lakeside cottage with their kids

Sam and Eileen are both happy and alive and they live in a seaside cottage with their kids

Once a month, midam, destiel, and saileen all get together for dinner. sometimes at one of their houses, sometimes at a restaurant

Lucifer got Sam attached to him and in love with him in a Stockholm syndrome way before beginning to hurt him

The sheets had shifted off her lithe frame, crumpled up around her waist and leaving her torso free. Free and covered in one of Dean's old t-shirts. Because that's now what she wore to bed. It used to be  something that would keep her decent and covered but she found his shirts so much more...freeing. His muscular shape made the shirts loose around her slender frame, and he was still tall enough that it wasn't indecent if she did wear underwear to bed. And now she lay in the darkness, staring at the wall beyond the bed, she had a hand over Dean's wrist, his arm loosely looped over her hip. Her thumb stroked idly over his skin, reveling in the warmth of his body behind hers. But it wasn't always. Not when he was out hunting evil, up to his neck to danger and peril. And she was here...unable to help for fear of distracting him. A military girlfriend. At home as the men went off to war.

She sighed, sliding out from under his arm, and swinging her legs off the bed. Silent feet padded towards the bathroom, the early morning light barely peeking through the cheap curtains.

There would be a day when he wouldn't come home. For whatever reason, he wouldn't. And she could get a phonecall, from a hospital or a policeman. Or she might get nothing. He might vanish without a word, dead, eaten, torn to shreds, taken by any number of evil things for equally evil purposes. And she couldn't do a damn thing. The cold water ran from the tap as she splashed her face, looking up into the cracked mirror with a dark, almost mournful look.

One day he might not come home.