#representation week

“Questioning things, Dean-o?” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows. Dean scowled. “We met someone on a case, they said they were ‘non-binary’. I… what does that mean?” Dean sighed. 

“Ah. I see. Well Dean, you’ve heard of boy and girl, right?” He asked. Dean nodded. “Non-binary is another gender. Means neither a guy nor a girl.” Gabriel shrugged. That made Dean’s head spin. Of course the first thought was if they weren’t a boy or a girl, what did they have under the belt? Dean must’ve been thinking loudly, because Gabriel rolled his eyes with a resounding ‘ugh’. “No, dumbass. Sex is what’s in the pants. Gender is a lot more diverse. You’ve heard of trans, right?” Dean nodded. “So you know some people feel as though their gender doesn’t match their body? Though they were born, say, female, they feel as though they’re a male?” Dean nodded once more. “Well some people don’t feel like they are females, though they’re in a female body. But they don’t necessarily feel male either. It happens to people born in a male body too. These people can identify as non-binary. Somewhere in between female and male.” Gabriel provided. “Does that make sense?” Dean thought about it, and the more he thought about it, the more it did make sense. 

“Huh.” Was his only response, before stealing a marshmallow and heading off. 

~|~

The burden of knowledge was a heavy one. Everything that once seemed so simple was suddenly a whirlwind of confusion. Dean had never thought about it before because he never needed to. He knew he wasn’t a girl, so he had to be a boy. It was simple. Until it wasn’t. 

The hard part was Dean had no idea how to tell. He couldn’t talk to Gabriel, Gabriel would figure it out in a heartbeat. So the internet was Dean’s only solace. (And if he took an online quiz or two, who could really blame him?) 

~|~

It was morning time. The covers were rumbled but miraculously still over them, and Dean was laying with his head on Castiel’s chest. They were both awake, just savouring the still of the morning. Dean was deep in thought, he’d been up late last night pondering his dilemma. 

“Dean.” Castiel rumbled, his voice still rough from sleep. Not that he had to, but it was nice. Dean seemed to like sleeping next to Castiel without the discomfort of being watched the whole time. “What’s on your mind?” He asked. Dean stopped; Cas had noticed. Dean sighed softly. Of course Cas noticed, Castiel knew Dean inside and out, it would actually be more confusing if Cas didn’t notice. 

“...how do you know if you’re non-binary?” Dean asked resignedly. No point in trying to hide something from your angelic boyfriend that can slip into your thoughts at any moment, (though he mostly didn’t, for privacy’s sake). 

“That’s something only you can decide, Dean.” Castiel told him softly. “Are you uncomfortable as a male?” 

“Well… no. Not really.” Dean sighed. “This is how I’ve always been, this is how I’m supposed to be… right?”

“No. You’re supposed to be happy. What made you ask if you’re comfortable being male?” 

“I dunno… what if it’s just because I’m used to it? I mean… I do like more feminine things…” Dean trailed off, blushing. Castiel smirked, his hand trailing down Dean’s bare torso and pushing down the waistband of Dean’s sweats to reveal a splash of pink. “Hey quit that!” He scolded. “I just… I dunno.” He sighed. “I don’t wanna be confusing and pick a new name or anything…” 

“You don’t have to. You don’t even have to switch pronouns if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just about making you comfortable and happy with who you are.” Castiel assured, kissing his hair. Dean nodded slowly. 

“Okay…” And they left it there. 

~|~

“Castiel?” Dean murmured, pulling his boyfriend aside. They had gone to the store to pick up some eggs, beer, and skittles on Gabriel’s request. 

“Yes my love?” Cas responded, his blue eyes wandering Dean’s face, full of concern. 

“I think I’m non-binary.” Dean told him quietly. Cas offered a warm smile. 

“Alright. What pronouns do you prefer?” He asked. 

“We can stick to ‘he’… or ‘they’ works too, I guess…” Dean mumbled, blushing as he looked down. Castiel just smiled warmly, lifting Dean’s chin so the hunter would look at him. 

“I’m so proud of you.” Cas assured him, gently kissing his lips. “And I love you so much.” The way Dean’s eyes shone in that moment made Cas’s heart soar. 

“Thanks Cas…” he smiled. Castiel always had a way of making Dean’s insides turn to mush with his gentle loving nature. 

~|~

Dean lost a bet. In his defence, he didn’t believe ANYONE could fit thirty marshmallows in their mouth, so why would Gabriel be different? Gabriel had his ways though. So there Dean was, letting Gabriel plaster his face with makeup and paint his rugged hunter nails. 

“Ta da!” Gabriel sang, turning Dean to face the mirror. It was a good look, sunset eyeshadow, a nice winged eyeliner, soft pink lips and teal nail polish. “You can take it off after half an hour.” Gabriel added, patting Dean’s head. 

“I might not.” Dean shrugged. Gabriel blinked. 

“...huh? Mr. Manly Man, next Captain America, wants to wear makeup?” Gabriel gawked in a teasing fashion. 

“I like it.” Dean shrugged. 

“It is some of my better work…” Gabriel admitted. “But I thought ‘guys don’t wear makeup’?” He laughed, elbowing Dean playfully. 

“Damn good thing I’m non-binary then.” Dean hummed. Gabriel stared at him for a moment, trying to decide if Dean was joking, before he shrugged, hugging Dean. 

“Guess so. I’m proud of you, bucko.” He added the second part much softer. “Pronouns?”

“He/him or they/them. I don’t really care.” Dean smiled. Gabriel nodded. 

“So… can I do your makeup more often…?” The archangel asked quietly. Dean laughed, nodding, and Gabriel nearly leapt for joy. 

~|~

Telling Sam was the hardest part. Dean was so in his own head about it, it wasn’t like Sam was close minded in the least, but Dean has himself convinced. Sam liked Dean the way he was, Dean had told himself. Sam liked his brother. Sam needed him to be this specific figure; a role model. 

Castiel and Gabriel assured him many times over that Sam loved him and it wouldn’t change anything, but just on the small possibility it would… Dean was terrified of telling him. 

“A role model doesn’t mean John’s perfect soldier.” Castiel murmured softly, kissing Dean’s hair. Dean glanced up from where he was staring at Sam over a mug of coffee, contemplating telling him, and Castiel gave him a small smile. Those words hit him like a pound of bricks. Sam didn’t look up to his gender, Sam looked up to what was inside. So why was Dean…

“Sam!” He called, getting up and approaching his brother. “We need to talk.” He sighed. Sam frowned. 

“Is something wrong…?” He asked. 

“No, no, I just… I wanted to tell you something.” Dean fidgeted with the cuff of his flannel, the nerves slapping him again. It was too late to turn back now though, now that Sam’s attention was focused on him. Sam gave a nod for him to continue, and Dean sucked in a slow breath. “I’m non-binary.” He informed, his voice quieting a bit. His stomach dropped as Sam eyed him slowly. Then Sam smiled. 

“Okay.” Sam responded. “Are you… changing your name?” He asked. Dean shook his head. 

“Dean is fine.” He assured. 

“And your pronouns…?”

“I still mostly use he/him, but they/them works too.” Dean mumbled. Sam nodded, getting up and hugging Dean tightly. Dean was slightly taken aback, relief swamping through him. He hugged Sam back, a tiny smile pulling his lips as he caught Cas’s eye over Sam’s shoulder. 

“Dean, I love you.” Sam murmured. A gentle reminder, that was exactly what Dean needed to hear. He managed to choke words through his tears of joy and relief:

“Thank you Sammy.”

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Representation Week Tag List: 

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @specialagentrin @peanutbutterandgrapejelly @all-or-nothing-baby @petrichoravellichor @i-know-like-four-things @fantastikitty7 @is-jus-me @hexlorde

Dean frowned. Jody was normally on top of things when it came to all of the girls. “Alright, let me get Sam and Cas–”

“No. No, no.” Jody interrupted. “Just you. Please.”

“Are you sure?” Dean looked over at Sam who had closed the book in front of him. Dean held up a finger and shook his head.

“Dean, she’s going to be embarrassed that I called anyone. But out of all the people I could think of… You’re the one who can probably relate the most.”

“Alright, let me pack my bag, and I’ll be on the road in about twenty minutes, okay?” Dean tried to sound reassuring. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.” He hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket.

Sam raised an eyebrow and rested his chin on his hand. “What’s that all about?”

“Jody needs some help. Hold down the fort? Call me if something comes up, I’ll join you and Cas when I’m done helping her out.” Dean shot a finger gun at Sam before heading to his room.

…

After a quick goodbye to Jack and Cas, Dean took to the open road, hoping to make the trip to Sioux Falls in less than four hours. He popped some Seger into the tape deck for the first half of the drive, and as if they knew the tape was over, another phone call came in.

“D-Train! What’s up?” Dean smiled as he answered.

“I hear you’re on your way to Jodio’s.” Donna’s thick-but-sweet accent came through the speakerphone.

“I am. You know what’s going on?” Dean reached down and grabbed the box of tapes off the floor while keeping his eye on the road.

“Claire’s in a bad place right now, Dean.” She hummed a little, as if in thought. “You know it’s been about a year, right?”

Dean snorted. “Donna, I love you, but you’re assuming I even know what day it is.”

“What are we going to do with you, Winchester? Hmm?” She took in a deep breath. “It’s been a year since the Bad Place.”

“Shit.” Dean briefly closed his eyes and ran his hand down his face. “Wait. What can I do to help her out with that?” Donna started to reply, but her voice was cutting in and out. He picked the phone up off of the seat and noticed his phone only had a bar of signal. “Donna, I can’t hear you, I’m going through a bad spot.” He heard the phone beep in disconnection and shook his head. “Well then.”

He reached into the box and pulled out a random cassette. Upon looking at it, he realized he grabbed Metallica’s Black album and push it into the deck after pulling out Seger’s Night Moves. He tossed Night Moves into the box and took a look at his phone. The bars showed full signal again, and for a moment, he contemplated calling Donna back. He shook his head and turned his focus back to the road.

…

Rather proud of himself for making the drive in three hours and fifty-seven minutes, Dean pulled up in front of Jody’s home, parking Baby next to Jody’s Jeep. Donna’s truck was parked on the other side, and Dean was even more confused as to what he could offer that Jody nor Donna could.

“I thought I heard that engine!” Donna walked down the front steps and pulled Dean into a hug. “I swear you got a horseshoe up your butt with how fast you got here.”

“Probably.” Dean leaned into the back seat after Donna let go and grabbed out his duffel. “So, where’s Hunter Barbie?”

Donna pointed over her shoulder at the house. “In her room. Jody’s trying to get her to eat.”

“Trying to get her to eat? What the hell? Claire puts away food like it’s going out of style.” Dean’s face dropped as he followed Donna into the house.

“We know.” Donna nodded in agreement. “But…”

“Is that Dean?” Jody appeared from the hallway, a full plate in her hand. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

Dean looked back and forth between the two women. “You gonna let me know why you wanted me here?”

“I thought I would be able to relate to her.” Jody hung her head. “With what happened to Sean and Owen.” She leaned into Donna as Donna wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “I get that first love strikes fast, but she blames herself for Kaia’s death.”

“So, how am I supposed to help again?” Dean asked, slightly nervous about where the conversation was going.

“Dean, you’ve gone through something similar, when Cas died.” Donna smiled sadly at Dean.

“I’m not…” Dean shook his head. “Nope, you got that wrong.”

Jody’s head snapped up. “Don’t you dare say that you don’t love Cas, Dean Winchester. Don’t you do it.” Jody got into his personal space and jabbed at his chest with her finger. “You can pretend all you want, but your family has eyes, Dean. Now go in there, and talk to the girl who looks to you for fatherly advice.”

“Jodes,” Donna quietly chided Jody and took her hand. “Don’t push.” She looked at Dean. “Go talk to Claire. Please?”

“Still don’t know how it’s going to help.” Dean walked up the stairs to the bedrooms, vaguely remembering which one was Claire’s. He listened carefully, and heard the soft sobs coming from behind one of the doors, and stopped to knock on it. “Claire?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Dean heard the muffled retort and couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what I said, Kiddo. I’m coming in.” He pushed down on the door level and opened the door. Claire was laying on her bed, hugging the Grumpy Cat that Cas had bought her for her birthday. “Hey.”

“Jody seriously called you?” Claire’s bright blue eyes peaked over the stuffed animal, and Dean could easily see the resemblance between her and Jimmy. “I’ll get over it. I just need a few days.”

“Yeah, that’s what we tell ourselves, isn’t it?” He reached into his pocket “Remind me, you’re over twenty-one, right?”

“Dean, I’m twenty-three.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position. She tilted her head curiously. “What are you doing?”

“Jodes probably has you dry at the moment, doesn’t she?” He offered his flask to her. “Just a little burn down your throat to ground you.”

Claire looked at Dean in surprise. “Seriously? Jody has the guy who suggests getting drunk to deal with his feelings come and talk to me?”

“Excuse me?” Dean closed his flask back up and put it in his pocket. “A shot of whiskey never hurts anyone.”

“So a bottle of JD is a shot now?” Claire shot back.

Dean pointed his finger at Claire while trying to find the words to prove her wrong. “It’s better than the alternative, and I’ve done the damn alternative.”

“You’ve been sober?”

“Sonofabitch.” Dean ran his hand down his face. “Is this how you’ve been treating Jody and Donna?”

“Nope. They walk away when I tell them to go away.” She laid back down, grabbing the stuffed animal and rolling over. Her back fully to Dean, she commented. “This does mean I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Now I know why they called. I can out stubborn your ass any day.” Dean crossed over and sat on the foot of the bed. “Now. I understand we’re about to hit a year since that… place.”

“And the fact that you all hid from me that there’s an Alternate World version of Kaia here. And you keep telling me to get over her.” Claire’s voice raised in anger with each sentence. “Why should I get over her? Cause there are other girls out there? Cause there are boys out there? Newsflash! I’m a big flaming Lesbian! And this isn’t exactly the best area to go looking for that.” Claire sobbed into her Grumpy Cat. “And I want Kaia.”

Dean’s heart broke, watching Claire collapse in on herself. “Hey Kiddo, come here.” He put his arms out to the sides, offering a hug. “You’re getting softie Dean right now. Come here.”

A sniffle and some shuffling around on the bed and Claire curled up in Dean’s arms. “I know as hunters, we’re not supposed to entertain what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. But Dean, I’m young. She’s… she was young. We should have had more of a chance. I promised to protect her.”

“I know, Claire.” Dean rested his cheek on the top of her head. “And in turn, she jumped in front of you. Protecting you instead.” Claire nodded into his chest, and he took a deep breath. Dean knew why he was there. “I promised to take care of Cas like that, you know.” He gently rubbed Claire’s back as she cried into his chest. “But he’s a freaking angel of the lord. What can I do to protect him?” Dean shook his head. “I’ve watched him die too many times. And this last time? It was too real. It hurt so much.” He closed his eyes. “Claire, he died not knowing how much I love him.”

Claire pulled back slowly. “Did you just admit…” She shook her head. “You do love him.”

“Yeah, I do.” Dean nodded. “I’ve loved Cas for a long time.”

“Does he know? You got a second chance.” Dean blushed at Claire’s question, causing Claire to erupt. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT I WOULD GIVE?”

“Calm yourself, Barbie.” Dean threw his hands up in defense. “I want so badly to tell him, but it’s never the right time.”

“Newsflash, Dean. It will never be the right time. Stop pushing it off.” Claire squinted and shook her head. “What are you so afraid of?”

Dean stood up abruptly, nearly knocking Claire off the bed. “Nope. Not turning this around on me. I’m here for you.”

“Yeah, well sometimes, one finds healing in the healing of others.” Claire pointed at the recently vacated spot. “Sit your ass back down. You’re supposed to be acting like my Dad and taking care of me, now do it.”

“Because this is how you win me over.” Dean rolls his eyes. “Besides, you said I’m supposed to be helping you. How am I helping you if you’re talking to me about Cas?”

“I’m not thinking about Kaia. I’m working on another problem. Which is why you won’t tell Cas you love him.”

Dean mumbled to himself, despite knowing that Claire was going to make him repeat himself.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to hear that?” Claire glared at Dean. “Look who you’ve surrounded yourself with. Donna and Jody are my moms. They’re together. I just told you I’m a lesbian. Charlie is a lesbian. Rowena has no idea what gender means and will sleep with anyone that’s pretty. Sam is your brother and loves you no matter what. Hell, he’s been putting up with you and Cas forever.”

“Putting up with?” Dean stared in disbelief. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Claire laughed and the first hint of light returned to her eyes since Dean entered the room. “Dean, do you really think that you’ve hidden the fact that you’re in love with Cas? Part of the reason I hated you was because I saw how much you loved Cas. And as much as I wanted my father back, I couldn’t do that to you or Cas.” She shook her head. “Dean, you love Cas like the sky is blue, like the grass is green, and like how you think Dr. Sexy deserves one more season.”

“That obvious?”

“That obvious.” Claire nodded. “You really haven’t told him because you thought that your family would disown you? Dean, you’re Bi, not a…” Claire chewed on her bottom lip as she thought of her next words. “You’re human. Humans come in so many different flavors.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying this to you?” Dean sat back down on the bed next to her. “You’re the one who’s suffering.”

“I’m finding this rather cathartic.” Claire leaned against Dean again. “You know, you can’t exactly have this speech with me anyway. It’s not like I’m hiding in the closet. My issue isn’t that I was afraid of telling Kaia how I felt. It was that we never had a chance to explore it. You have Cas. You have love.” She held up her finger as soon as Dean started to open his mouth. “Don’t you dare say that Cas doesn’t love you, cause he’s just as obvious as you are, probably hoping that you’ll pick up on it.”

Dean let out a sigh. “So, you’re calling us idiots?”

“Your words, not mine.” Claire held her hands up in defense before putting them back down. She paused and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Dean.”

“What the hell for?”

“For coming. For distracting me. I’ll always wonder ‘What if’ when it comes to Kaia, but through your inaction, you’ve reminded me to keep living.” She smiled coyly.

“Now that’s just rude. You can make it up to me by joining me for some of Jodes’ cooking.” Dean bumped his shoulder and playfully pushed Claire up. “Come on, Kiddo.”

…

The next morning, after packing up Baby with a ton of leftovers, and getting hugs from the available wayward ladies in his life, Dean hit the road back to Lebanon. He relaxed on the drive, letting Zeppelin keep him calm as he calculated his next steps.

Unlike making the trip to Jody in less than four hours, Dean took his time and clocked in at closer to five. He was almost dreading returning to the bunker, and when he pulled into the garage, he took a moment to calm himself, using a breathing technique Donna had showed him. Dean looked towards the entrance to the bunker, and let out a sigh, getting out of Baby and grabbing his duffel.

As he entered his room, Sam popped in behind him, quietly closing the door. “So?”

“So what?” Dean dropped his bag on his bed, not bothering to turn around and look at his brother.

“What happened up at Jody’s?”

“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Dean grabbed out the leftovers, turning around and shoving them into Sam’s hands. “Apparently we need more food from Jody.”

“Jody did not have you drive ten hours round trip for food, Dean.” Sam looked down at the containers in his hands. “What’s the actual reason you were there?”

“It’s been a year.” Dean shrugged. “I didn’t realize it until now, but it’s been about a year since we found out about other universes, and we went traipsing around in them, trying to find everyone.” He grabbed out the extra clothes he hadn’t needed and started to put them away. “It’s been a year since Claire lost Kaia, and Jodes thought I had a similar enough situation in which Claire could identify.”

Sam nodded. “You watching Cas die.”

“Yeah. While protecting me. Us.” Dean nodded. He let out a sigh knowing that the easiest hurdle to jump was the one in front of him. “Sam, I’m Bi.”

“No shit,” Sam replied. “Did you think I didn’t notice? Or did you think I would hate you?”

“Dad, uh…”

“Not a good enough excuse, Dean.” Sam interrupted. “Dad didn’t raise me. Dad didn’t take care of me when I was sick. Dad didn’t make sure I got to go on field trips. You did. You’re my brother and my best friend. You honestly thought I’d care that you’re Bi?” Sam shook his head and crossed the room, pulling his brother in for a hug. “I know we don’t do this, but dammit, Dean. I’m not going to hate you because you’re in love with a guy.”

Dean held up his finger, before adding another to make finger quotes. “‘A multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent.’ I love Cas.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“I’m going to go tell him.” Dean stepped past Sam and opened his door.

“He’s in the library!”

Dean shook his head and moved down the hallway slowly. He tried to convince himself that things wouldn’t change. He tried to remind himself that no matter what, he and Cas would remain best friends. And as he turned the corner, finding a smile appearing on Cas’ face when Cas saw him, his heart stopped, and the need to fly almost overtook his desire to fight.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas pulled the ribbon of the book he was reading between the pages and closed it. “Sam said you had gone to Jody’s. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I think I was able to help. Maybe not in the way that they imagined, but things were better when I left.” Dean crossed the room and sat in the chair next to Cas. “You hold down the fort okay?”

Cas tilted his head to the side. “You were gone for a day, Dean. Nothing significant happened in your absence.”

“Maybe not here,” Dean muttered, hoping Cas didn’t hear him. He took a deep breath in through his nose and slowly exhaled. “Cas, you know you’re my best friend, right?”

“Yes.” Cas nodded, as he carefully watched Dean. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“Hear me out, Cas. Please?” Dean waited until Cas nodded before continuing. “There’s something I’ve been hiding for a long time, because I was afraid that I’d be disowned, or Sam would hate me, or I’d lose you.”

“While I refuse to speak on your father, there’s nothing you could do to push Sam or myself away.” Cas shook his head.

Dean hung his head and closed his eyes. “I’m Bi. Like, Bisexual.” The silence that hung in the air could only have lasted seconds, but to Dean, it felt like an eternity. He looked up, his eyes finding Cas’. The angel was looking at him, his eyebrow raised in confusion. “Cas, say something.”

“I’m trying to figure out why you think that would chase me away. I’ve told you before I have no preference when it comes to gender or sexual orientation.” Cas turned in his chair to face Dean better.

“I didn’t think it would be my orientation that chased you away.” Dean moved to the edge of his seat, getting closer to Cas. “Please don’t hate me?” He leaned in, wrapping his hand around the back of Cas’ neck before pressing his lips against Cas’. Dean felt Cas freeze under the gesture. He pulled back slightly, his lips still close enough to feel Cas’ breath. “I’m sorry, Cas. I just needed to know–”

Dean didn’t get to finish his sentence. Cas’ mouth crashed back into his, swallowing the whimper of surprise that escaped Dean’s lips. Unlike the first kiss that scared him, Dean felt warm, he felt safe. Dean knew that Cas loved him as much as he loved Cas.

--

Sam Winchester is fifteen the first time he puts on a skirt. He’s with a different girl by now, but she must have a feminization kink or something (although he has a feeling she’s just a closeted lesbian) because something lights up in her expression when Sam asks if he can try on some of her clothes.

It’s a deep blue pencil skirt, and it doesn’t quite fit right around his hips and it hugs his thighs in a way he’s not used to but he doesn’t care because that feeling is back – that feeling of something fitting, like it’s right, it’s perfect, he’s suddenly free. And he allows himself to wonder for just a moment if-

He cuts that line of thought off instantly. There’s no point in thinking about what could be.

He takes off the skirt, gives it back to her, and goes home.

--

When Sam is 17, he kisses a boy for the first time. He’s never been fully straight, he was aware of that, but he’s never acted on it, either. But when a guy approaches him after school, midway into his senior year, he shrugs and agrees, on the condition that they go to his house, not Sam’s.

It’s roughly the same as kissing a girl, but Sam is acutely aware of the fact that it’s not a girl the whole time anyway. It feels a little drier, more experimental, but not bad. Sam enjoys it.

The guy confesses after that he’s straight and part of the reason he approached Sam for his sexual experimentation was because Sam has always struck him as somewhat of a feminine dude.

Sam has no idea what to do with that information. So he does what Dean would do; he packs up and goes home.

The guy doesn’t talk to him again.

--

Sam fights with his dad about whether or not he can go to Stanford. He wants to. His dad won’t pay for it. He doesn’t care. He just needs to get out of the house. He can earn a living on his own and he knows he can get scholarships.

The hardest part is when he gets his acceptance letter and finally has to tell Dean.

Dean doesn’t cry – Dean never cries – but he hugs Sam a little too tightly for a little too long and tells his shoulder, “I’m gonna miss you.” He doesn’t ask Sam not to go, which in some ways hurts worse.

Is he not even worth fighting for?

He and Dean share a bed that night, even though Sam’s 18 and Dean’s 22, because Sam knows he’s going to have nightmares, and Dean’s the only one who’s ever been able to fight them off. It doesn’t matter that Sam’s leaving and it doesn’t matter that they haven’t shared a bed in a decade. They cling to each other in their sleep and their dad doesn’t tell them to move.

Sam spends more time than he used to around his brother for the four or five weeks he has before he leaves. Dean hugs him again, a little too tight and a little too long, the morning he drives off to California.

“I love you, Dean,” are Sam’s last words to his brother for two years.

Dean screams and punches the wall when Sam pulls out of the parking lot. Sam watches it in his rearview.

--

He arrives at Stanford on August 29th, with two duffels of clothes and a separate one of toiletries and various entertainment items. He finds his dorm, drops off his stuff, and goes down to the commons to see if he can meet someone new.

People are milling around, most of them wearing little red-and-white ‘Hello, My Name Is’ identification stickers. Other people are walking around distributing them.

The person who walks over to him is barely chest-height on him, with short, golden-brown hair and equally golden eyes, and is wearing a cropped black jacket. There’s a nametag stuck to the jacket that says ‘Gabriel, they/them/theirs’. Sam smiles at them.

“Hi,” he says quietly. They smile back.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” they ask him. He bites his lip, then tells them. They grin, writing it down on one of the blank nametags they’re holding, and hand it to Sam.

“Welcome to Stanford, Samantha.”

 (She writes her own pronouns on the nametag.

Sam woke feeling like his head was underwater. He looked down and saw unfamiliar sheets, and he simply assumed he must have been in another nameless motel in middle America. He rested his eyes for a moment longer, not wanting to become a part of the real world just yet. Surely, Dean was still asleep so he could afford a few extra minutes of denial and peace.

He finally decided to open his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling above him. And there was Jess, trapped to the ceiling, surrounded by flames. She was screaming for help. Sam tried to get up and help her, to yell back at the very least, but he was parrylized. He could do little more than watch.

Suddenly, the heat intensified and Jess was gone. In her place was his mom, Mary. Mary’s skin was blistering, and her hair was almost all gone. More and more of her flesh disappeared in front of Sam’s eyes, and her screams intensified. All of her skin burned off, and then her muscles and bones started melting, dripping like hot oil onto Sam’s exposed flesh. Again, he tried to scream, but nothing came out.

When Mary had completely melted, the fire went out and the room was suddenly freezing. Sam could feel the cold seeping into his bones and drying Mary’s remains on his skin.

“Hey, Sammy. Long time no see,” said a voice, slickly sweet, from across the room. In the corner, by the door of the room, stood a man. The man was slightly shorter than Sam, with sandy blond hair and stubble.

Sam still could not speak, but he felt like screaming as soon as he realized who it was. Lucifer. Lucifer smiled sickeningly before throwing his hand out to the side. A flash of light came out of his hand and struck a sleeping Dean right in the chest. At the contact, Dean screamed an ear-shattering scream. He screamed for what felt like an eternity, sounding like he was rupturing his own vocal chords, until he collapsed, limp into his bed, smoke rising from his chest.

“Thank Chuck we finally got him out of the way,” Lucifer laughed and walked confidently over to Sam. Sam felt his eyes heat and moisten, and his chest clenched as the fallen angel drew closer, but he could still do nothing except lay there and wait.

Lucifer loomed over Sam, looking down at him. He snapped his fingers and suddenly Sam was naked, his arms chained above his head, with Mary’s remains still stuck to him. He could feel the sharp metal of the cuffs cutting into the skin of his wrists, and the damp floor freezing his soul through his feet. Sam heard dripping water somewhere, and he took a moment to think how chiche that was. Dripping water in a dungeon? How original.

Lucifer walked up to Sam, carrying a knife. Sam pulled on the metal collar around his neck, again feeling it biting into his flesh, but to no avail. “Well, Sam,” Lucifer sneered, “this is going to be fun.”

Sam woke, for real this time, in his bed in the bunker. He was drenched from head to toe in sweat even though he was freezing. He sat up in his bed, tapping at his sternum. He had picked up that habit the first time that he had a panic attack and was trying to tell Dean even though he couldn’t speak. Now, any time his heart started to race and his breathing became unnatural, he would tap at his sternum until it became painful.

Sam hunched over and clutched at his hair, focusing on his breathing. In for seven, hold for four, out for eight. In for seven, hold for four, out for eight. Eventually, he realized that this wasn’t the type of panic attack that he could stop, and that he would just have to wait it out. He hunched over, letting the tears flow freely from his eyes. He let himself hyperventilate, digging his fingers into his skin. Sometimes he wasn’t breathing. He would breathe in, hold it, unable to force himself to exhale, until he was dizzy. Then all the air would come rushing out at one. Then a labored, slow, and painful inhale.

It went on for ten minutes, where Sam was grasping for breath, his vision blacking out and him digging at his skin. Claw marks on his thighs. Crescent moons on his palms. Blood under his nails and on the rough patches on his face. Salt in his mouth.

When it finally subsided, Sam was exhausted, but even so he did not want to go back to sleep. It was more of a physical exhaustion, the one he felt in his bones, but his brain was running like a hyperactive labrador. So Sam decided to go wash his face off with cold water and then make some coffee. He’d have a lazy day if he had to, but he was not risking more of those dreams.

Sam slowly made his way to the bunker’s main bathrooms. They were set up like a college dorm. Some of the rooms had individual bathrooms, but sometimes Sam liked to go to the main ones; they reminded him of Stanford. So Sam slowly made his way to the stalls, running his hands over the walls of the bunker, letting the rough texture ground him.

He rounded the corner to the bathroom, and pushed open the heavy wooden door. He walked into the bathroom and was confronted with a very interesting sight. Cas was standing over the sink, in front of the mirrors. In front of him, he had various multi-colored things in front of him. And Sam had seen this scene before; he had lived with enough women to know what doing makeup looked like.

Cas was applying eyeshadow with the most delicate touches. He was going back and forth now, making sure that his eyes were symmetrical. When Cas decided that the eye shadow was good enough, he picked up his eyeliner to start applying that. Sam realized he was staring.

“Cas?” Sam asked, startling the angel. Cas dropped his eyeliner and it clattered loudly in the sink. He stared at Sam, a deer in headlights, but said nothing. Both men stared at each other in silence, neither one knowing what to say.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” Cas finally said.

“I’m all ears,” Sam held his hands open expectantly.

Cas sighed. “Would it be okay if we wait for Dean to get up? I’ve been meaning to talk to both of you, and I’m not really sure I want to have this conversation twice.” Cas looked down at his feet.

Sam felt for the guy, he really did. “Sure, Cas. Whatever you want,” Cas let out a breath of relief and turned to the sink to wash his makeup off. Sam felt his chest clench a little at the sight, but he brushed it off.

So Sam went to the kitchen and started making coffee. He looked at the clock and saw that it read 4:30. He went about his morning routine, getting ready to make eggs and bacon when he thought Fuck it. Dean doesn’t need to sleep any longer. Let's have a chat with Cas. Sam scampered off to Dean’s room, having decided to put all of his energy into being the most annoying little brother he could be.

Sam slammed open the door to Dean’s room letting it knock into the wall. Dean jumped up and swung his gun at Sam, but Sam didn’t flinch. He just flicked on the light and went over to Dean’s bed and ripped the covers off.

“What the fuck, man?” Dean demanded, putting the gun away and rubbing his eyes, “It's way too goddamn early for you to have this much energy.”

Sam leveled him with a bitch face, “I can’t sleep, Cas doesn’t sleep, and he wants to have a conversation with us. I didn’t want to wait for your lazy ass.”

Dean grumbled and rolled out of bed, “It’s not my fault that I live with a bunch of insomniacs.”

The brothers walked to the kitchen. At this point, the coffee was done brewing, and Sam made a b-line for it, before Dean shoved him out of the way. Dean grabbed the biggest coffee mug they had and filled it to the brim before he let Sam at it. Dean sat at the counter and wallowed in how terrible it was to be awake at such an early hour, and Sam went to find Cas.

Dean only dozed off twice while Sam was gone, and he thought that was pretty good. When Sam and Cas walked in the kitchen, Dean sent the angel a dopey smile as he took the seat across from Dean. Sam sat next to his brother.

Cas fidgeted and looked very uncomfortable with the prospect of telling the boys what had been weighing on him. He clenched and unclenched his hands, looked up at Dean, then down at the table, then up at Sam, then down at the table. Finally, he took a deep breath and sighed.

“When I became human, and when I was not in the bunker, there was a lot that I learned by observing and speaking with the people. The longer I was with them, the more I learned about myself. I began to feel that I did not belong, and not simply because I had been an angel. Part of this feeling of not belonging, I discovered, had to do with my not feeling as though I were a man. As I have explained in the past, angels do not have gender. At least, we do not experience gender in the same way that most humans do. From my understanding, angels experience similar genders to those of humans, but with a lesser intensity.

“One day I met a very interesting person who helped me realize who I was. This person said that they did not feel as though they fit into the ‘default’ categories of gender. They felt that their gender was something else, and was both masculine and feminine. They said the name for this gender was ‘nonbinary.’ I explained how I was feeling to this person in regards to my own gender, and they said that I might be described as nonbinary.

“Soon after that, I met up with the two of you, I met April, and you know how the rest goes. When I was working at the gas n’ sip, I did some of my own research about my gender. I came to the conclusion that I was, in fact, nonbinary. After this realization, it took me some time to come to terms with it myself. The more I read about non cisgender people, the more I realized how hard human life was for them -- for us. I was unsure how the two of you felt about gender, and how you would react to mine.” Cas pressed his lips together and lifted his eyebrows, indicating that he didn’t know quite where to go from there.

Cas ran his fingers over each other, waiting for one of the brothers to respond. To him, Sam looked very taken aback and confused; Cas couldn’t really nail down his reaction. Dean, on the other hand, just looked tired. Not tired like he does when he’s hopeless and beat down, but tired like he had just woken up, which he had, so Cas assumed that he was unfazed by this development. The coil in Cas’ stomach wound itself tighter around his internal organs as he waited for the boys to react.

Sam looked all over the kitchen, sometimes beginning to ask a question and then shutting his mouth. Sam had that deep furrow in his brow that he got when he was trying to solve a particularly hard puzzle. Dean just took another sip of his coffee.

Dean broke the silence first. “So,” Cas finally made eye contact, “what’re your pronouns?”

Cas blinked stupidly for a few moments before he responded. “Uh, they/them.”

“And is Cas still good or do you want to change that?” Cas’ lips turned up in the corners a little at that.

“No, Dean. ‘Cas’ is still good.”

Dean nodded and went back to his coffee acting completely unbothered by everything. Cas’ nerves settled a little, but Sam still looked confused. His eyes flicked between Cas and Dean for a few moments.

“Uh, thanks for sharing, Cas. I appreciate your honesty.” Cas nodded his head, and Sam just looked at Dean, even more confused. “I’m honestly more taken aback by how you’re reacting to this, Dean.”

Dean choked down his sip of coffee before answering angrily, “What the hell’s that supposed to mean, Sammy?”

“Well,” Sam looked away, “you have always been around hunters and hunters are not known to be overly accepting.”

“Well screw you. I’m accepting. I know all about the gay community. So this gender thing isn’t new to me. I’m cool with it.”

“How the hell do you ‘know all about the gay community’?”

“I may or may not have done some research a while back and I learned a lot.”

“And?” Cas finally spoke up, raising their left eyebrow and smiling a bit. The corners of Dean’s mouth turned up a little as he looked at Cas.

Dean held Cas’ gaze as he said, “Turns out I’m bi.” They were both full-on grinning now.

“Well, I’m pan.”

The shop bell chimed just as Patience was setting the last book into place, and she called toward the entering footsteps without looking over. “Hi, welcome to Read Between the Lines, I’ll be right—” she turned and nearly choked on her own breath, “right…with you…”

Claire Novak was standing in front of her. She’d ditched the green apron Patience had seen her in through the window a few minutes ago and was wearing a white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, thumbs hooked loosely in the belt loops of her black jeans as regarded Patience with an easy smile.

“Hey,” said Claire, raising her chin greeting.

Help, Patience prayed, to any higher power that might have been listening. She swallowed and schooled her features into what she hoped was a relaxed, friendly, totally-not-freaking-out expression. “Hi.”

“I’ve seen you around at school,” said Claire, gaze dropping briefly to Patience’s mouth before flickering back to her eyes, and her smile widened. “Patience, right?”

“Uh,” said Patience, because what the heck else was she supposed to do? Seriously, God, or Whoever? I could really, really use some help right about now… “I mean, yeah, yeah, that’s right. You’re in my—um, I mean, we’re in the same Econ and American Lit classes. You’re Claire. Right?” she added hastily, lest she seem like some sort of stalker freak. She was absolutely not a stalker freak, oh God, please don’t let her think I’m a stalker freak…

“Yep, that’s me,” said Claire, and she was still smiling, so whatever deity Patience had prayed to must have been in a sympathetic mood. “Hey, listen, I know this is totally random, but do you maybe wanna grab dinner sometime? Tonight, even. It’s just,” Claire rolled her eyes and hooked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the front window, “my boss told me that if I didn’t come over and ask you out already, he’d send over a cake with my phone number on it.”

What. Patience shifted to look out the window and recognized Gabriel, the bakery owner from across the street, watching intently from inside his own shop; when he saw Patience, he grinned broadly and gave her a double thumbs up. “Wow. That’s…wow.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of a dick like that,” said Claire, but she didn’t sound like she held it too much against him. “So, what do you say? Wanna go out, or do you at least want a free cake? ’Cause I’m pretty sure he already made it.”

Patience couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Well, I do like cake,” she said, feeling her own lips twitch into a smile that mirrored the one on Claire’s face, “but I’m also off tomorrow, so…”

“So,” echoed Claire, taking a step closer, “it’s a date?”

Oh, it’s a goddamn miracle, thought Patience. She felt giddy, lighter than she’d been in ages. Suck it, not gonna-ing: your services are no longer required. “Yeah. It’s a date.”

“Cool,” said Claire, grinning as she pulled out her phone so that she and Patience could exchange numbers; when she left a minute later with a wink and a “See ya”, Patience barely managed to wait for the door to close before letting out a squeal and twirling around in happiness…

…only to see her very self-satisfied grandmother smirking at her from the doorway to the backroom. “So,” said Missouri, strolling over to stand at Patience’s side, “a date, huh? Well, isn’t that nice.”

“Grandma,” groaned Patience, hands coming up to cover her face, “please, please don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you told me so.”