why have i never read anything about sam and cas out for research or something, while dean fakes a headache just to get out of the nerd-work, and on their way home they pass a humane society shelter, and with a glance, sam pulls over.

(“just to look,” he swears, and cas nods gravely.)

except of course cas walks inside and he’s overwhelmed by all the wide liquid eyes begging silently for help, all the stray dogs and cats, or abandoned by owners – maybe distraught, or maybe uncaring – who couldn’t handle the costs or the commitment, and under the pretense of greeting them, with a scritch under the chin he heals their cancers and disease and pain, soothes their terrors until they’d wag a tentative tail, or rumble a purr into a strange hand.

sam’s already got his eye on a huge, stoic german shepherd who’d never got a visit, but even before he reaches the dog there’s a couple approaching the cage, bending down with outstretched palms, and the dog snuffles into them before offering a lick and a wide, doggy grin.

but sam finds cas arguing with a vet and a black cat in the hallway, because even cas’ angelic powers can’t override the visceral fear of an animal alone who senses what’s happening. they don’t have the time to come up with documents to adopt, so cas just looks around, gathers the cat into his trench coat, and gives the vet a look, as the cat finally begins to calm, pressed against cas’ chest.

(sam gives the vet a glare that’s equal parts intimidation and commisseration before they duck out the door.)

dean wanders into the kitchen to find sam and cas crosslegged on the floor, the cat belly-up in bliss as they carefully scritch his proferred belly and feed him an occasionally treat.

they both look up, clearly trying for some damage control.

“dean,” sam says, lifting his hands placatingly.

“they were dying,” cas says, staring at dean. “now they’re not.”

“th-they?” dean echoes blankly. “how many?”

“all of them. but only this one’s ours.”

dean looks between sam and cas’ hopeful, stubborn eyes, and finally drops to the floor beside cas.

“if he bites me i’m kicking him out,” he warns unconvincingly. the cat opens its eyes halfway, blinks twice at dean, then twists himself around like a landlocked fish until he can swipe a dry tongue at dean’s wrist.

dean flushes, scrambling up and ignoring the smirks of sam and cas and the adoring gaze of the cat. “yeah, well,” he mumbles, turning on his heel, “you guys decide on a name.”

Art Critic: the skull in the corner is artfully placed on the periphery of vision to symbolise the omnipresence of death, important thematically to the artist’s conception of life and mortality.

Actual Artist: aw shit, I got all this negative space, guess I’ll stick a skull there that looks pretty rad.

You know how people working in retail always have ‘weird customer stories?’

Sam and Dean Winchester are those weird customers.

There are probably whole online forums dedicated to this, now that I think about it. Started as a joke on reddit and then people from all over the country start to chime in.

Two huge guys came in today and bought 20 cartons of Morton’s salt and a box of Hello Kitty bandaids. Nothing else.

Had a similar experience! Two guys come in: one guy buys a ton of salt and like 50 pocket-sized lighters, the other puts a divider between them and buys a single slice of cherry pie from the bakery. They leave together.

Lol same here. Salt and bandaids. Did one of em have long hair? XD

I work at the butcher’s downtown. We had two super buff scary dudes come in asking for any buckets of lamb’s blood we might have “lying around.” Past closing time. I gave it to them but it was freaky as hell.

Omg what’s with the salt conspiracy? But yeah same I work at a Christmas tree farm and sometimes we catch these two guys cutting down trees at night. It’s always the same two guys and they only cut the stumps off. Why.
EDIT: one of them did have long hair actually!!

This is unrelated but I once had a guy in a trench coat physically assault me because we were out of pie. This was AFTER he cracked an egg onto the floor and knocked over everything in sight.



Cas is fine.

Lemony Snicket:

Many dictionaries define the word “fine” as “good,” “satisfactory,” and “in good health and feeling well.” For instance, people may be fine because they have just won the lottery or are competing in a golf tournament. But as you, dear viewers, know Cas is, in fact, not fine. Perhaps more appropriate words to use would be “poor,” “disagreeable,” or “horrifying,” the latter definition often used to describe the predicament of the character you have become most attached.

Inspired by ⇢