Come Back

Dean x Reader

Summary/Request: @angelsguardthedoor (I have no idea where the original request went. Whoops) You and Dean used to be a thing, a really good strong beautiful thing, until you had gotten out of the hunting life, for what seemed like good. But when your parents are murdered by what law enforcement says in an animal, you know better. You take out your phone and press call…

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing(?). 

W/C: +3,300 

Originally posted by life-of-a-plaidchester

“Dean, I need your help,” I whispered over the receiver.

Y/n?” He asked, as if it surprised him and it probably did. We hadn’t spoken in months.

“Yeah, Dean can you come out here?” I gnawed on my lip. “You and Sam,” I added.

What’s wrong?” His voice was more urgent than before.

I looked up and bit back tears that were threatening to spill.

“My parents De. They’re dead.” I choked out. “It’s coming for me.” My voice broke.

Stay safe.” He ordered. “We’ll be there in a few hours.”

“Thank you, Dean.” I whispered.


I ended the call and backed myself into the nearest wall sliding down it and crying in despair. My parents had been found dead. An animal attack is what the policed claimed. I knew so much better than their ignorant reports. Their hearts were missing—it was a werewolf.

Not just any werewolf. The pack that had finally gotten me to leave the hunting life all together. That call had been just a little too close when I almost lost everything. I wasn’t fast enough and Dean was in ICU for two weeks, unresponsive. The wolf got away.

I hated and blamed myself for the entire situation. I decided that it was best if I just left and got out of the way. It left its mark on both Dean and I, but I couldn’t be the reason that he was taken away from saving the world. I loved him too much. I had to walk away.

Even when it hurt too much to bear and the whiskey couldn’t drown it away all the time, I still kept his contact in my phone. Just in case, I chided myself. It seemed like it was fate that I had kept the number, because I needed Dean more than ever now.

I stared numbly at the soft blue walls of my two-bedroom apartment for what seemed like minutes. Until there was a knock on the door and a strangled cry got caught in my throat.

“Hey, Y/n, it’s just me.” I heard a familiar voice. How the hell did he get in?

“Did you just break into my apartment?” I demanded picking myself up off the floor.

“Building manager rolled over for the FBI.” My eyes were met with the smirk that had taken my breath away when we first met, and still did, even now.

Tears welled in my eyes. I didn’t care that he wasn’t mine anymore, I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck, needing the comfort of his arms. I had no one now. No family and barely a home. I heard Dean chuckle and wrap his arms around my waist tightly.

“I missed you too,” He murmured. “I’m so sorry sweetheart,”

The pet name stung coming from his lips. I pulled away from his grasp and wiped my cheeks, remembering that I wasn’t allowed to find comfort in him anymore. I had given up the right.

“I…” I started, then closed my mouth and shrugged. There was nothing I could say to him that he wouldn’t see through. He knew me too well from all of the sleepless night talks.

“Hey,” He called softly tilting my chin up. “We’ll find it.” He vowed.

I nodded and sighed wrapping my arms around myself.

“Where’s Sam?” I asked, and Dean’s eyes tightened.

“Working another case.” He said curtly.

I frowned. “Dean? Is everything all right?”

He flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.


I could see right through his lie.

“Come on.” I beaconed.

I led him down the hallway to my studio that was now more hunting notes than art. Maps and articles and lore were all taped to my walls in a neat order with thumbtacks and red strings connecting each one.

“You still got it,” Dean complimented looking over my hand-written notes that accompanied all of the facts.

“It’s a little personal now,” I whispered, running my fingers over the last picture I had taken of my parents. It was my twenty-first birthday and we had taken a trip to Disney—it was from years ago.  

“What have you found?” He asked, treading lightly.

“Nothing, just out of the blue. I figured how it tracked me, and I’m sure it’s coming for me. It knows where I am. I just wish I could find it first.” I muttered.

“But why would it go after your parents?” Dean asked the wall of facts.

“We took down its pack De. That makes this more than instinct. This is revenge.” I voiced my conclusion.

He turned to face me, deep sorrow in his eyes. He seemed like he was going to reach out for me, then stopped, as if he remembered what I did. We weren’t allowed to have another anymore. I averted my eyes to my wall and spoke.

“I’ve narrowed down to where it could be,” I ran my fingers over the map with my neat highlighted blocking off. “But it’s a lot of wood and marsh.” I told the map.

“Seems like we get to go hunting,” I could hear the smirk in Dean’s voice.

It made my heart ache. I was terrified to get back into hunting with him. I didn’t want to put him in danger anymore because of me. I loathed myself for even calling him out here to help me. I knew there wasn’t another choice.

I sighed and left the room without a word to go and get what I needed for the ensuing hunt. The sun was setting and I wanted to get this sucker ganked as soon as I could. I didn’t pay attention to Dean at the doorway as I laced up my duck boots, or when his eyes followed me when I went to my closet and got down my fabric box that had my gun, silver bullets, angel dagger, machete, and other assorted hunting items. They were all neatly placed and nestled together as if they were grade school trophies, not weapons to kill the things that go bump in the night.

“When’s the last time you cleaned that gun?” Dean asked, worry in his voice.

“Last night. Don’t worry, I’m not that out of touch with this.” I muttered to my hands as they packed everything into my satchel.

I ran my hands over the dagger in its sheath and memories came flooding back that I tried to burry and lock away. Dean had given me the dagger when I expressed my dislike of a gun in my hands.

You still need to defend yourself,’ He insisted, handing me a leather wrapped bulk.

‘Dean?’ I was smiling as him as I unwrapped the dagger, beautiful and shining brand new.

‘I got Cas to make it for me. It’s from a melted down angel blade, still kills anything though,’ He was almost sheepish, as if doing something kind was embarrassing.

I remembered wrapping my arms around his neck and thanking him for it. I truly did love the blade and how it fit in my hand. I let out a sigh and attached the sheath to my belt loop and tucked the gun into the hem of my jeans under the back of my jacket.

We didn’t say a word as Dean and I walked out to his Chevy.

“Wanna drive?” He asked. I gave him a look. He held his hands up in surrender. “Just figured you’d know how to get there better than I would.”

“Read a map.” I snapped, huffing and clambering into the passenger seat slamming the door. I heard Dean mumble something but I didn’t feel like instilling more of a fight. That’s wasn’t what this was about.

Our ride was quite except for the muttered directions that I gave Dean. He tried to put music on, but I shut that down quickly.

“What!?” He demanded.

“I don’t like music anymore.” I mumbled.

“Since when? You used to love it.”

I didn’t respond. I stopped liking music after I had lost the one who had shown me the beauty in it. It hurt too much to listen to the classic rock melodies that Dean would no longer sing to. It left me feeling empty.

“Alright, no music,” He muttered.

When the tires hit the dirt of the road before us, the car crawled slowly before the engine was killed.

“You ready?” He asked with mock joy.

“Uber,” I muttered getting out of the Impala and stretching.

I inhaled deeply and the smell of dirt and moss filled my senses. I looked around, searching the trees for any indication that my monster was lurking, ready to strike.

“Hey,” Dean called pulling me from my thoughts.

“What?” I snapped.

“Are you okay?”

I gave him a look.

“Peachy.” I said flatly.

“Really, cuz you seemed anxious.” He pressed.

I huffed and started walking into a non-existent trail, leaving Dean behind. I heard Dean behind me, following. I pulled my gun out and held it in my hands as I walked, ready for anything. I heard a rustle of leaved to my left, and raising my gun, I saw an elk that had wandered a little too close to civilization.

“Get,” I told it.

It’s eyes met mine before it took back off into the greenery.

Dean and I hiked into the forest for about a mile, silent, until I smelled a fire. No campers would be out this far. My eyes flashed to Dean’s and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. My wolf was close. We crept closer, looking for the source of the fire.

We came upon a cabin, where sure enough there was a chimney with smoke coming from it. The cabin looked condemned but there was a light coming from the shards of glass that were once windows. I gave Dean a two-finger signal to check around back for another way in as I lurked towards the door of the rundown cabin.

I used my foot to nudge the door open and cringed when it gave a loud creak. So much for stealth. There was a man crouched by the fire, eyes trained on the open flame. I knew who it was. We needed no introduction.

“You’re quite good at hiding,” He said, his voice low. “It took a while to find you.”

I crept forward, with the moves of a dancer, keeping my gun and eyes trained on him.

“Of course, you could kill me right now. Take your shot. But when I’m dead so is your mate.” He said, turning to face me.

I stopped and lowered my gun as my eyes swept the room and saw that Dean was held at gunpoint—by a female who I assumed was also a wolf—before me, a gruesome wound on his left temple. I wanted to yell at him for getting caught. How the hell did Dean Winchester get himself caught?

“He’s not my mate.” I said coolly.

“Mmm. Is that why he was the first one you called when I… ran into your parents? Or that he dropped a major case to come and help you? Leaving his brother behind? Because if not, please enlighten me.” The werewolf folded his arms across his chest amused.

My eyes caught Dean’s as the information sunk in. I needed time to plan, to get him out. There would be time later to sort everything else out. The firelight danced in his green eyes.

“You were tracking both of us,” I stated, calm.

“I was. Well, she tracked Dean here. I kept my eye on you though. Such a curious little thing you are. You used to be so lively, always smiling and laughing. Now it’s like you’re a shell of who you used to be.” He taunted.

I gritted my teeth and took a breath. I knew he was right.

“What do you want?” I hissed, taking a step forward.

I heard the gun in the woman’s hands cock as a bullet entered the chamber.

“Eye for an eye? Is it?” The man asked, a smirk on his lips. “Or perhaps a mate for a mate?”

My eyes flicked to the woman.

“If I killed your mate, then who is she?”

“My created. Nothing more than for someone to aid me in my endeavors.” The wolf responded.

“Made her yourself?” I raised my eyebrows.

I had my plan. Let’s see how well Dean really knew me.

“I did.”

“After you finished licking your wounds cleaned I assume.” Dean smirked as I took a step forward, towards Dean. Good. He still knew me.

“Don’t take another step or he’s dead.” The woman snarled.

“Oh sweetheart, you don’t have it in you.” Dean quipped.

“You’re funeral.”

“Sorry, death doesn’t agree with me.” Dean taunted.

The woman growled and her finger tensed on the trigger.

Wait!” The panic left my lips without my permission.

The werewolves chuckled.

“Told you,” The man said. “Now be a good girl and set the gun down, on the floor. As well as your shiny little dagger that I know you have.”

I put up my acting front, and feigned fear. I over exaggerated my gesture of taking the silver blade from it’s sheath. My eyes flickered to Dean’s. He was ready.

I slowly bent down to the ground, blade in one hand, gun in the other. The wolves watched, amused. They believed that I had given in. What they didn’t know was how well Dean and I hunted together.

As soon as I was close enough to the faded wood floor, I dropped to one knee, slid my blade across the floor to Dean and took my shot at the woman. Dean rolled out of the way as two shots went off, only one of them lethal. Dean was on his feet, and my angel dagger pierced the heart of the wolf who had stalked me.

“Down!” I shouted.

Dean ducked out of the way as I—for good measure—filled the man’s chest with silver. Dean looked up at me, eyes shining. I was panting and grinning as I got up from my kneeling position.

“Still got it.” I smirked.

“Yeah you do.” He grinned, before his smile faded and he became solemn.

I tucked my gun back into my jeans and went and got my blade, wiping the blood on the dead man’s shirt, before putting it back in it’s sheath. I went up to Dean and gently turned his head so I could get a closer look at his wound. He brushed my hands away.

“It’s fine,” He huffed, starting to make his way to the door, leaving me.

“Dean,” I called, chasing after him.

He turned and there was fury in his eyes.

No,” He almost growled. “You can’t keep doing this to me Y/n! You left! And you’re acting like you still care! Are you that cruel? You need me, so you’ll be nice, until you’ve used me then you’re gone again!?” He accused.

I took a step back, sapped by his accusations, tears pricking my eyes. He never raised his voice with me like that.

“Dean,” I choked out. “I left because I didn’t want to see you killed because of me! You were almost dead! Dean, do you know what that did to me!? Those two weeks, begging for you to come back to me!”

“You said you didn’t love me. You didn’t want me. You wanted an apple-life knowing that was the one thing I couldn’t give to you!” He shot back.

I lied!” I screamed at him. “I lied to you Dean! I had to! I never wanted normal! I always wanted you! I always loved you! But I couldn’t walk away knowing that you knew I still loved you!” Tears streamed down my face as I pushed past him, running out of the cabin.

Y/n! Don’t you walk away again!” Dean yelled from behind me.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. My anger was gone. Instead pain and loneliness finally broke through and tore me apart. All of the pain and fear of the months without him. The sleepless nights and nightmares. Being inhuman. Numb. I tried to stifle my sobs with my hands as tears blurred my vision. Dean’s face instantly changed from fury to fear.

Sweetheart?” He whispered.

I let out a strangled cry. He opened his arms as I ran into them, burying my face in his neck, hysterics taking over my system. He held me close, cradling me to him. He stroked my hair and whispered soft comforts and I wrapped my arms around his neck, clutching his shirt in my hands. I sobbed out apologies, cries of how pathetic I was, of how he should be the one to walk away from me.

“Hey,” He called softly, pulling me back and cupping my face, wiping away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “None of that,” He chided. He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“I’m so sorry Dean,” I choked out.

“I know baby girl, I know.” He pulled me close to his chest again. “It’s okay.” He pressed his lips to the top of my head.

I still love you,” I whispered. He went silent for a moment, and panic struck me hard. Dean again took my face in his hands and his green eyes soul searched mine.

“I never stopped loving you,”

As soon as those words left his lips, I felt like crying all over again. I didn’t have the chance because his lips were on mine. I welcomed the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him with every emotion I had locked in a box. Every emotion about Dean that I had denied myself. They all felt my heart, and into our kiss.

I knew he was doing the same for his passion matched mine.


           “Stop being such a baby,” I snapped at Dean.

           We were back at my apartment, in my bathroom and I was cleaning his wound, of which he was being a totally wimp about.

           “I’m sorry that it hurts?” He snarked. I rolled my eyes and threw the bloody alcohol pad into the small trashcan.

           “Get over yourself.” I snapped back, grinning.

           I had missed this. The snippy comments and banter that Dean and I shared. I was the only one who ever put up with his moods and never took any of his crap.

           “I’d rather get over you.” He grinned, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me closer.

           “In your dreams Winchester,” I quipped.

           “Oh you will be.” He smirked at me, mischief in his green eyes.

           I rolled my eyes and finished bandaging him up before pecking his cheek.

           “There, good as new.” I smiled, putting the well-stocked first aid kit away.

           “My heroine.” Dean smiled, sliding off the counter and pulling me to him.

           I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned back in his hold, knowing he would support me even though I put all of my weight on him while leaning back. He pulled me back to him and pressed a gentle kissed to my lips.

           “I missed you,” He murmured against my lips.

           “I missed you,”


We laid together in my bed that night, Bon Jovi playing softly from my surround sound system. He sang to the songs softly and I smiled, my head on his chest, enjoying the moment. His arm tightened around me so I looked up at him. His emerald eyes captured mine.

“I’m the reason you stopped listening to music?” He asked softly.

I shrugged softly and gave a tight smile. Sighing I ran my fingers across the bare planes of his chest as I rested my head back down.

“Without you I didn’t know how to be me,” I whispered softly.

He rubbed my arm soothingly.

“I know what you mean.”

Rain Storms and Memories


Prompt: The rain fell around him, the water cold but gentle in its cascade down his face, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across

Summary: The sweetest memories hurt the most when you lose the one you love.

Warnings: Nightmares, Angst, mentions of blood, reader death, a pinch of fluff before the suffering begins

Words: 1,766

A/N: Hey folks!

This angsty fic was a result of @gabriel-monthly-challenge and their amazing prompts! Thank you to all the mods for making these creative endeavors possible

The plot thickens…If you’d like to understand what on earth is going on here, feel free to read Will I? (Chapter One).

One final note: Writing requests are officially open! If you have a prompt idea or general concepts you’d like written, feel free to send it to my ask box!

There’s a lot of angst in this one, so enjoy!

~ Phantom


It’s a raging storm around him and he doesn’t care. It’s a raging storm and the rain is soaking through his jacket, splaying wet strands of gold to his forehead. It’s a raging storm and he can’t find the strength to move because it reminds him of you.

You were always fond of thunderstorms, the two of you would curl up in a recliner on the cabin porch, eyes drifting across the spectacle in the sky.

Between the echoing rumbles and brilliant flashes of light, Gabriel would steal glances your way. You would rest your head on his shoulder, tangling your fingers with his and watch the wavering branches dance in the distance.

He could remember the light reflecting against y/e/c, vibrant and beautiful. He could remember the wind catching strands of your hair, tossing them about until you’d tie them into a loose bun and smile up at him.

Dear Father, your smile. It was tender, and gentle and kind. It was wry, affectionate and mischievous all at once. When he closed his eyes, it’s all he saw.

Amongst the memories were the times you’d drag him off the porch to dance in the torrential downpour. You’d spin and toss your head back, embracing the droplets as they cascaded down your skin and soaked your clothes and hair. Then you’d turn and look at him, a broad smile painted on your lips as you outstretched your hand and pleaded with him to come dance with you.

A snap of the fingers and there was music, calm and slow as the two of you glided through the water, spinning and dancing and splashing.

And when the music ebbed away and the two of you were left gazing into one another’s eyes, Gabriel would hold you close, fingers tucking wet strands away and lips finding one another under the soft light of candles flickering in the distance.

Then, you’d pull away, gazing up at him with such a look of adoration, he prayed he’d never lose you. He’d pick you up, carrying you and your soaked frame into the cabin where you’d lie by the fire and share an evening alone.

Perhaps that’s why it hurts so much, perhaps that’s why he pushes himself to stand from the mud and shuffle inside the cabin.

He doesn’t look at the fireplace, doesn’t touch the blanket on the couch that smells so strongly of your perfume. His heart aches and his soul screams, but the pain won’t bring you back.

Hell was nothing in comparison to the torment he now endures. The longer you’re gone, the more unstable he grows.

So, he retrieves the spell book from the shelf, paging through for the correct incantation. Rowena had offered her help, she’s spent the past week searching the Book of the Damned for a solution and he’s on edge.

He has to be patient, but patience has never been his strong suit. This is the millionth time he’s read this specific piece of lore, and he’s exhausted.

He doesn’t notice when Castiel appears in the living room, doesn’t notice the concerned glances from the newly arrived Winchesters. He’s slumped over the book, skimming the chapter through half-lidded eyes.

“Hey, Gabe,” Sam greets tentatively, peering at the archangel cautiously.

Gabriel offers a pathetic wave, poring over a spell he’s read thousands of times.

“What’re you reading?” Dean moves up beside him, attempting to steal a glimpse of the book.


“Right…when’s the last time you took a break?”

Gabriel glances at the clock, dramatically,“Less than twenty minutes ago, Dean-O. Now, go away.” It’s a monotone response, one void of life and enthusiasm.

“Really? Cause you look borderline dead.”

“I’m fine,” Gabriel retorts shortly, “gotta get her back. Once she’s home, everything will be fine.”

The brothers look to Castiel for help, hoping to receive some semblance of an explanation.

“He promised Y/N that he’d save her–bring her back to life.”

Dean allows his gaze to shift back to Gabriel, “I understand where you’re coming from, man, I do. But this isn’t how you bring her back.

Gabriel doesn’t look up, merely turns the page, "I’m not giving up.” It’s a half mumble, barely discernible to the two hunters and the angel behind him.

“No one is suggesting you give up, just–”“–you’re no good to her like this, Gabriel.” Sam interjects, coming to his brother’s aid.

He shakes his head, pushing stubbornly at drenched gold pressed against his forehead.

“Brother, let’s find you some dry clothes. You’ll feel better.”

“Won’t feel better–not until she’s…not until she’s home, Cas. I can’t leave her there. I was too late, I promised, I–”

“Gabriel, listen to yourself. You’re rambling, you’re drenched,” Dean glares disdainfully at the growing puddle beneath the archangel’s chair, “and you’re exhausted. Get some rest. Sam, Cas and I will take a look at the lore.”

“Won’t find anything. Been looking for weeks.” Gabriel mumbles, reluctantly relinquishing his vice grip on the book, scrubbing roughly at his unfocused eyes.

“Which is exactly why you could use three new sets of eyes on those books. Get some rest and we’ll take care of the research.” Dean assures him, gently sliding the book back away from him and giving Gabriel’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The archangel started to protest, looking up at Dean, but found himself too tired. Gold flickered to Castiel and Sam, who both offered a nod of reassurance, before dropping to the floor and resigning to a short nod.

Dean helps him stand, briefly supporting his weight until Cas steps forward and wraps an arm firmly around the archangel’s waist.

They’re nearly to the door frame when Gabriel turns, “You’ll wake me if–”

“If we find anything, yes, we’ll wake you.” Sam smiled gently, sympathy bleeding through hazel.

He nods shakily, clinging a little tighter to Castiel’s jacket as they turn and continue on to the bedroom. He’s trembling as Castiel helps him change into a dry t-shirt and sweat pants, trembling when the younger angel helps him over to the bed and tucks him in.

He’s trembling when his eyes land on the empty sheets beside him and the memories weigh heavily upon his shoulders.“I gotta get her back.”

It’s a quiet murmur, but Castiel turns his gaze away from the door and down to the broken shell with a pillow clutched against his chest.

Gabriel doesn’t hear Castiel leave as his eyes drift shut, curling up around the pillow. He doesn’t hear the quiet whispers down the hall. He certainly doesn’t hear the rumbling storm in distance as he slips into unconsciousness.

He opens his eyes and the sun blazes before him, illuminating the soft sand and lazy waves. He opens his eyes and the salty breeze catches locks of gold. He opens his eyes and you’re smiling at him with a warmth he doesn’t deserve.

It’s a tender smile, one of the many you would offer when he needed it the most. He blinks and you’re in front of him, one hand cupping his cheek, the other tucking wayward strands behind his ear.

“Sugar–” it’s a breathy whisper, a disbelieving murmur lost to the wind.

“My archangel,” you barely manage a word before he sweeps you off your feet, twirling through sand and memories.Your feet find the beach, but his grip doesn’t falter, you’re pressed against his chest and if there were air in your lungs, it would have been gone long ago.

It feels like hours when he pulls back to look at you, pressing a desperate kiss to your waiting lips. He’s smiling when he pulls away to gaze down at you, but his joy is short-lived.

There’s blood trickling from your abdomen, staining the white dress a searing crimson. He stares in horror as the warmth of your skin ebbs away, cheeks hollowing as whiskey met y/e/c.

“Y/N–no! Sugar! Hang on! You’re going to be okay, you’re–”

“I’m what, Gabriel?” There’s a haunting edge to your voice, “I’m gone. You let me die. You promised me!” You shove him, he stumbles backwards, nearly falling into the sand, defenseless and disbelieving, “You promised you’d always be there, Gabriel!”

“I know! I–I just–” his chest aches and his soul screams as you draw closer. His back meets brick and he spins. It’s a raging storm, lightning cracks and thunder rolls and suddenly he’s watching you die all over again.

You’re fighting, reciting the exorcism as quickly as you can, but there isn’t enough time. The Demon–he’s too close and you’re only a third of the way through. He’s too close and suddenly there’s a blade buried in your abdomen. He’s too close and then you’re gone.

Gabriel reels, whirling around at the rush of air behind him; he whirls and your pale form stares him down, frightened and agonized, “Where were you when I needed you the most, Gabe?”

He reaches for you, but his fingers pass through. He reaches for you and there’s panic in his eyes, “Y/N–please–I’m going to save you! I promise, I’m going to–”

“–don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Gabe…you learned that the first time.” You’re fading away and he’s scrambling after you.

“Goodbye, my Gabriel.”

“Y/N! No!”

Suddenly he’s upright, suddenly his wings are flared out and he’s knocked over nightstands and bookshelves. Suddenly Castiel throws open the door and rushes into the room with the Winchesters close behind.

“Gabriel! Are you okay?” Castiel’s hands are resting on his shoulders, blue searching whiskey desperately.

He’s sweating and panting and he’s not sure what happened.

Dean surveys the damage, “Nightmare?”

Gabriel nods numbly, wings folding back behind him, fading away from Earth’s plane until the room regained celestial stability.

The brothers exchange a concerned glances as Castiel gathers the stiffened frame of his big brother against him.

“It’s all right, Gabriel. It was only a dream.”

In his arms, Gabriel’s shoulders wrack with sobs, the paralysis having dissipated while he clung to the trench coat.“It’s my fault she’s gone, Cas, it’s all my fault.”

Dean knelt beside the archangel, laying a comforting hand his shoulder, “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

Gabriel sat up, pulling away from hunter and angel alike, “It won’t be until she’s home!”

Dean smirks, standing to his full height and crossing his arms smugly across his chest, “Well, luckily for you, Rowena called.”

Gabriel’s eyes shot to Dean’s face, anxious and hopeful all at once.

"She found a way to bring her back.”

Thank you, Father.


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Tagging: @heaven-hell-imagines @currentlyfangirling99 @csigirl3137

Gabriel Folks: @thewhiterabbit42


Relationships: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Words: 612

Tags: Fluff, first kiss

Summary: Dean and Cas share breakfast, and something more.

Read it on AO3

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Happy Birthday!

Erica @maddiepants

Happy Birthday To This Beautiful Bitch @Maddiepants Absolutely Love You And Hope That Your Birthday Is Awesome!

This Is A Birthday Drabble/Fic For Erica


Summary: Erica Is Turning Another Year Older Younger…

Warnings: Birthday, Fluff, Funny, Implied Smutty

Word Count: 700 Roughly

A/n: Any And All Mistakes Are Mine.


Erica Opens her eyes at the sound of alarm clock beeping non stop..

“Alright Alright I’m up..” she groans as she hits the button so the alarm will stop and stands up and stretches before changing and trotting down the bunker hallways to the kitchen but for some weird reason the hallway lights are dim and when she gets to the kitchen the lights are off except for a tiny orange glow.. more or less a candle light..

Erica questions if she should either enter or walk away and look for the boys but she desperately needs a birthday coffee/tea so she walks in and turns on the light…

“Surprise!, Happy Birthday Erica!” The boys both yell with huge smiles on their faces

Erica smiles and shakes her head.. they did scare her a little bit but she wouldn’t tell them that cause they would tease her about it all day.. “awe thank you guys but it’s just another year” she says about to walk to make some coffee/tea but dean hands her a fresh cup

“It’s still hot… just like you” dean teases with a smirk

Sam sighs “Alright that’s my cue to leave.. think I may have a hunt as well” sam smiles as he kisses erica on the head “happy Birthday beautiful” he says before leaving the kitchen

“Did you seriously have to scare him off?” Erica Asks with a small laugh

“Meh” dean shrugs softly but the devil in his eyes say something more. “You gonna make a wish?” Dean Asks pointing to the small glow of the candle lights

“Dean, basically all my wishes have come true and half the time it doesn’t even come true” Erica says with a small tilt of her head..

“Traditional hello!” Dean says waving his hands like a kid

“Oh Alright but only because I love you” Erica says pointing to dean as she walks over and blows out the candles but she probably should of paid more attention to Dean’s eyes because she pushes her face into the cake and then he full body laughs…

“Hahahaha Priceless!” Dean laughs watching Erica stand with her face full of icing

“DEAN!” Erica shrikes as she wipes her eyes, when she wished she didn’t wish for this kinda white…

“This was not the white I wished for!” She says still wiping her eyes

Dean hums “kinda white did you wish for?” He asks knowing damn well it wasn’t snow..

Erica finally gets her eyes open “ahh snow..” she says as her cheeks turn pink but thank God dean couldn’t see because her face was still covered in icing..

“Oh..well doubt we will get snow yet tho it’s only fall” Dean Says suddenly licking her face

“Oh gross!” Erica says pushing him away with a giggle

“Mm beg to differ you taste amazing” he winks making Erica weak in the knees “in fact… would love to taste all of you” Dean coos as he locks eyes with Erica

Erica is a lost for words.. but she opens her mouth trying to form a sentence but it gets ripped away from her as Dean’s lips softly collide with hers.. “I think my wish just came true” Erica smiles

Dean chuckles softly “Still Have yet to give you.. white” Dean winks as he picks her up bridal style and walks towards his room “Happy Birthday Erica” Dean says giving her one last kiss before the bedroom door closes behind them….


Dean’s Dirty Girls Tags~

@dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @pisces-cutie @tumbler-tidbits

So im convinced Tom hiddleston is either a vampire or time traveler. Or god made a very good choice of human vessels throughout history


Prison break

Game of Thrones

The walking Dead


Grey’s anatomy

Scooby doo