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Genre: Gen, angst
Length: About 4000 words
Rating: R for violent themes and suicidal ideation
Characters: Sam Winchester, Jody Mills
Synopsis: Dean doesn’t get to call the shots this time. Dean doesn’t get to demand that someone has to live.

Time to claim my Summergen fic! This was written for

tifaching, which is extra cool because I think they wrote my first ever Summergen gift. I encourage you to check them all out, because there were some doozies this year. And thanks to my beta reader, the lovely

monicawoe!

~~~

Dean has only been gone for a few months when Sam discovers the lump on Miracle's belly. "It's a very aggressive form of cancer," the veterinarian says. "I got as much as I could, but because of its location, it wasn't possible to get it all. Without treatment, he'll probably have three to four good months. Chemotherapy could buy him a few more months. But at his age…"

Dean would say do all the treatment, whatever it takes. But Dean doesn't get to call the shots this time. Dean doesn't ever get to decide again that someone has to live, no matter how peaceful the end that awaits them, no matter how painful and useless their life is, no matter how high the price of keeping them alive, no matter how ready they are to end it all. Dean doesn't get to demand that they keep living just because he can't stand losing them. And he doesn't get to go off and fucking die himself anyway and leave them alone. Dean doesn't get to do that again.

(Sam might, just possibly, be a little bitter.)

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What, now? Yes, now. A single sentence fic inspired by this Tumblr post…

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Genre: Wincest (non-explicit)
Length: About 1300 words
Rating: Hard PG or light R
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Synopsis: My first (and probably only) Wincest. No actual sex, just post-coital angst. The morning after the first time. Dean's POV and then Sam's POV.
Notes: No, I am no abandoning my gen status. But this plot bunny burrowed into my brain and refused to go away until I wrote it out. Flowers in the Attic is a cheesy gothic novel featuring four children who are locked in an attic by their scheming mother who hopes to hide their existence; the oldest son and daughter eventually begin an incestuous relationship. The title is from "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash, which I never heard until recently but am now obsessed with.

. . .

Part 1: Dean

It doesn't start with romance or lust. It doesn't start with that little flash of bare skin visible above his jeans when he raises his arms (it makes you crazy and you don't know why; you see him shirtless all the time but for some reason that little strip of skin that isn't meant to be showing just brings you to your knees). It doesn't start with you staring at that perfectly sculpted spot at the base of his throat and finally setting your mouth to it and marking him up the way you've dreamt about for years (you've bruised him when you were sparring, and you've battered him in anger, but you've never left a mark for the purpose of saying hands off, he's mine and oh, what you would do just for the chance). It doesn't start with you too drunk to keep holding it all in and Sam too drunk to say no (you would never, you would never).

It starts with terror. Pure balls-to-the-wall terror that you're about to lose him. A horribly fucked-up hunt where you almost die, but more importantly, you almost watch Sam die, and you stumble into your motel room, both still out of breath, still not quite sure what happened out there, and you're checking him for injuries and every breath is a silent mantra, I almost lost you, I almost lost you, and nothing is enough, you want to crawl under his skin, you want to open him up and cradle his heart in your hands to make sure it's still beating, you're holding him tighter and tighter and he's clutching you just as tight, looking into your soul with those big wet eyes and saying "Dean, Dean," like your name itself is a prayer, a request. A plea. Whatever he is pleading for, you will give it to him. And it turns out the only thing he wants is all of you.

Which is convenient. Because the only thing you want is all of him.

. . .

But then comes After, and you have to face what you've done.

When you wake up (his arm is still flung over you, it's so wrong, it's so wrong), you quietly crawl out of bed and hurry into the shower. There is no water hot enough to scrub you clean, no soap strong enough to wash away your sins (watch out for your brother, it's your most important job). When you give up and turn off the water, you realize you didn't bring any clothes to change into, and you sure as hell weren't wearing any when you fled into the bathroom. There's nothing you can do but wrap a towel around your waist and hope he's still asleep.

He's not. He's sitting up in the bed you shared. His hair is a tousled mess, a silky brown cloud, and your fingers twitch with the craving to be tangled in it again. He doesn't look disgusted, or repulsed. He looks… hopeful. Like he hasn't caught on yet that you are a monster.

(He will be the death of you.)

(He is your reason for living.)

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Genre: Gen
Length: About 3600 words
Rating: PG
Characters: Soulless Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Synopsis: Soulless Sam tries to deal with his brother's feelings about, well, everything. Including his hair. Set in season 6, before "You Can't Handle the Truth."

Not the threatened Wincest, not in time for

borgmama1of5's birthday. An idea I had a long time ago, resuscitated by Jared's Walker haircut. The title is from "You Don't Know How It Feels" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

. . .

It's a stupid case.

The manager of the county fairgrounds is a stooped, gnarled old man wearing one of those ball caps veterans wear sometimes. Gold embroidery on the dark blue hat proudly displays the name of his ship or submarine or whatever. Sam doesn't care about his ship or submarine or whatever. He doesn't care about this guy's service at all. Most days, old Blue Hat here got three meals a day and a warm, dry place to sleep in exchange for whatever he gave up. He got a pension when he was done fighting. Sam gets to scrounge for cheap food and sleep in crappy hotels when he's lucky enough to actually land someplace other than the back seat of the Impala. Sam's service to his country earned him a trip to Hell. Sam will get to stop fighting when he's dead. His only pension will be a pyre.

Sam doesn't even get to sleep any more.

(This should bother him. But the truth is, it doesn't.)

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Take these broken wings and learn to fly

Genre: Het, I guess? Gencest? Doesn't conflict with Wincest
Length: About 2300 words
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam Winchester and family
Synopsis: Sam's life after 15.20, from his wife's POV

Julia has been widowed (God, what an awful word, widowed) for three years when she meets Sam. It's a work-based friendship at first. She's kind of lonely and sad, he's kind of lonely and sad, and they gravitate toward each other. And then one evening they're at a bar, the last ones left from an after-work happy hour, both of them drinking more than they should, and she thinks he's kind and thoughtful and smart and he may be 10 years older than me but he's still hot as hell and I enjoy being with him and I look forward to seeing him and maybe I should just… and she kisses him. He's shocked; shocked enough to confirm that he wasn't just hanging around hoping to make it out of the friendzone. And then he's holding her face in his hands and he's kissing her too.

It's good. They're good together. It's not the earth-shattering, all-encompassing romance she had with Shaun. Julia knows she'll never have anything like that again. Most people don't even get one soulmate in their lives; no one gets two. And she knows Sam doesn't have that same desperate love that Shaun had for her; she knows she'll never have his whole heart. (She knows the woman he intended to marry was killed in a fire, she knows another woman he loved went back to her ex. She doesn't know which of these women still owns that last piece of Sam's heart.) But she loves Sam, and he loves her, and they get married.

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A single-sentence coda for 15.20, “Carry On.”
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Presented without comment or apology.

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Genre: Gen, hurt Sam, MoC Dean
Length: About 2000 words
Rating: R for language and violence
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel
Synopsis: Written for the following anonymous prompt in the May 2020

ohsam Sam Winchester Prompt-a-thon: Sam: “Please, Dean… Please, just… Just hit me.” Somewhere, recently, I remarked that I may as well have a separate Hurt!Sam tag for fics where Dean is the one who hurts him. So. Here's another one. This probably isn’t what you had in mind, Nonny, and I kind of hate posting it as a fill for this prompt because it became so Dean-centric. And honestly, even I think it’s a bit much. But here you go. Pure whump without plot, hurt without comfort. Takes place during the end of season 10, when the Mark of Cain is ramping up Dean’s violent tendencies. The title is from “With or Without You” by U2.

+++

Sam has been standing in Dean’s doorway for five minutes. Dean has been ignoring him for five minutes. He’s aware Sam is there, of course. Hyperaware. The Mark on his arm is like an extra set of eyes and ears, an enhanced version of his consciousness of Sam’s location that normally only kicks in when he’s in full-on hunting mode. But nothing is normal now. The Mark wants to know where Sam is at all times. Dean does not know why the Mark cares so much. He does not question it. He upends the whiskey bottle with a trembling hand, drains the last of it, and does not ask Sam what he wants.

“Talk to me,” Sam finally says. Soft. Tentative. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The thing is, there are things Dean can't tell his brother.

He cannot tell Sam that when he looks at him like that, with the puppy dog eyes full of sympathy and concern and a bit of fear, Dean cannot tell him he has a vivid sense memory of putting his hands on the sides of that face and pressing his thumbs into those sad eyes, pushing until he feels the pop, rendering Sam incapable of giving him that look. He cannot tell him Alastair used to bring him boys who looked like Sam, boys he’d made to look like Sam, and laugh with glee when that was the first thing Dean did to them, every time. No, he cannot tell him that.

What he can say is “Sam, you need to not be here.”

“Where else do I need to be?”

Dean runs one hand down his face. The other clenches into a fist. “Just not here, okay? You don’t know what’s going on.”

“I do, Dean. I know more than you think.” Sam steps closer, still tentative. He’s not quite within Dean’s reach. The Mark is very aware of the distance. “I know that whatever the Mark is doing to you, it builds up. I see the shaking, and the drinking. I know that after a hunt, after you kill something, after you… after you hurt something, you’re better for a while. And I know… I know you shouldn’t be hunting right now. Not the way you are right now.”

Something hot flares up behind Dean’s eyes at that, because hunting is the only thing that helps the way he is right now, and Sam knows that, and here he is saying don’t. The Mark throbs its angry assent.

“So I was thinking,” Sam continues. “If you need to hit something, if that’s what helps. Hit me.”

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Flies in the Vaseline
Genre: Gen, preseries
Length: About 1700 words
Rating: PG-13 for language
Characters: Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Sam Winchester
Warnings: Gratuitous use of second person
Synopsis: The best hunters don't smoke. Inspired by a Tumblr post

. . . . . . .

The first time your father caught you smoking, you braced for impact, literally and figuratively. You half expected him to smack the cigarette out of your lips. You definitely expected an angry lecture. But he just looked at you, so calm it was almost scary.

"That's not your first one," he finally said. "How often are you doing that?"

Emboldened, you finished the cigarette in one long, last draw, tossing it onto the asphalt and grinding it out with the tip of your boot. "Not a lot. Not every day. Just… sometimes."

"Mmm hmmm." He was still unnaturally calm. "You think that's a good idea?"

You swallowed a laugh at the possibility that smoking might be what got you in the end, rather than a claw or a fang. "I'm not letting it get out of hand," you said.

"Oh, so you think you've got a handle on it." Ah, there it was. That patented John Winchester attitude, disappointment garnished with a dollop of sarcasm. And it pissed you off.

"Yessir, I think I do. I don't think one cigarette to help me relax every once in a while is going to hurt me." Not any more than the constant infusion of Jack Daniels is hurting you, you wanted to point out, but you were not stupid enough to say that out loud.

He stared at you a little bit longer. Maybe thinking you're old enough to make your own decisions, but more likely thinking you dumbass, I don't even know what to do with you. Finally he said "All right, if you think you've got this situation under control, let's see how that works out for you. But don't let Sam see you doing it. You know how the kid looks up to you."

You replayed every word in your mind, looking for the command. It wasn't there. "So you're not telling me to stop?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

That felt like a trap, and you didn't answer.

He didn't mention it again, and didn't see you smoking again, until a couple of months later. You'd successfully cleaned out a pack of ghouls with some friends of his (no, not friends, associates; John Winchester didn't really make friends), and when Ripley pulled out a Marlboro and then waved his pack at you, you took one. Your father watched and scowled and didn't say a word.

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But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be
Genre: Gen, hurt Sam
Length: About 3000 words
Rating: PG-13 for language
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Castiel
Synopsis: This takes place immediately after 10.18, "Book of the Damned," where the Styne family attacks the Winchesters and Charlie, and Sam stashes the Book of the Damned instead of burning it. Let's pretend that Sam was more seriously injured in the fight with the Stynes than anyone realized.
Notes: The theme of the 2018

ohsam birthday meme was Hurt vs. Comfort, in which we were invited to respond to a prompt and write either about the hurt, or the comfort. An anonymous poster made this request: "Gen. Dean hugs Sam hard to hold him in place while someone cauterizes the wound in Sam's back." I started to write it, realized I'd gone with stitches instead of cauterizing, got frustrated, and gave up. But now I'm back. (Oh, and since we were supposed to choose between angst or schmoop, guess which one I chose. Go on, guess.) And yes, the title is from "Behind Blue Eyes" by The Who, which was featured in 10.18.

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A brief fix-it coda for 15.10, because never have I seen an episode more in need of a fix-it.

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Posted in reverse chronological order, which hopefully means the ones at the top of the list are better. :-) Right now it's all Supernatural. No warnings unless specifically noted. All are gen, cause that's what I do.

( Click to see the list. )

My recap/review of 15.05 will be late. Like, Monday night late. Way past the point where anyone is interested, most likely, but it’s important to keep the historical record intact so I’ll do it anyway. In the meanwhile, here is a different way that conversation in the Impala could have gone.

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Synopsis: Did you guys notice that when Chuck was writing on Becky's computer, he was writing on her blog?

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When the New York Times said "God is dead and the war's begun" (a coda for 14.20, "Moriah")

Genre: Gen, angst, hurt!Sam
Length: ~10K
Rating: R for language and a bit of violence (and let's face it, lots of blasphemy)
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Gabriel, Chuck Shurley
Spoilers: Through 14.20
Synopsis: Follows immediately after "It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah." Sam shot God. God is pissed. And He's going to do something about it. (The title is from "Levon" by Elton John. Yes, I should have chosen another title from "Hallelujah." I didn't. Oh well.)

Thursday

It's Thursday morning, two days after the showdown in the cemetery, and it's still dark. Or maybe it's not really two days later. Or even morning. Dean's watch is still stopped, but the clock in his bedroom says it's 8:35 a.m on a Thursday. But do days and mornings even exist when the sun won't rise? Jack is dead and burned. Cas is gone, fucked off to Heaven to rearrange deck chairs on the Titanic, and ignoring or not hearing their prayers. And it's still dark. Phones don't work and there's no TV or internet or radio and the sun still doesn't rise.

They've definitely screwed the pooch this time.

At least the bunker, bless her mysterious little heart, still has utilities from wherever she gets them from. Dean takes long hot showers, cooks food they'll both only pick at, cleans his guns, and regularly confirms that his phone still says No Service. And watches Sam. For his part, Sam reads, plows through the card catalog like he expects to find a book titled So You Tried to Kill God and Now He's Pissed, checks his laptop as obsessively as Dean checks his phone, and sometimes he does what he's doing now — just sits at the library table with his head in his hands, ignoring the book in front of him, doing nothing.

Well. Mourning probably counts as something.

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Yesterday I was blessed with the opportunity to watch 5.16, "Dark Side of the Moon," on TNT. The scene near the end, where the angel Joshua tells the Winchesters that God knows what's going on and isn't going to do anything and wants them to stop bugging him… well, it hits harder in light of what we learn about Chuck at the end of s14, doesn't it? At the time I thought Joshua was describing a God-the-clockmaker role, a God who just wanted to let his creation run on its own. But now we know that Chuck wasn't just declining to fix things for the Winchesters. He was actively setting them up and enjoying the drama. And yes, I'm sure the writers weren't thinking about how things would play out nine seasons later when they wrote that scene. It's just nice that the Continuity Fairy gave us this unintentional gift.

Other amazing things about this episode include: Dean having to watch Sam get shot, "I Wuv Hugz," Sam's kicked-puppy face, and "I'm dead"/"Condolences."

Another thing that struck me was how hard Pamela tried to get Dean to accept that if he let Michael use him as a vessel, the inevitable deaths of thousands (millions?) of people wasn't anything to be concerned about.

I know that Michael wants to take you out for a test drive… {snip} What happens if you play ball with them? Worst case.

A lot of people die.

And then they come here. Is that really so bad? Look. Maybe… you don't have to fight it so hard. That's all I'm trying to say.

And immediately after that conversation, Ash finds a "short cut to the Garden" that, oddly enough, opens right into the old Lawrence house where they'll be caught by Zachariah.

So I wondered why we ever thought any of this was real. Why we didn't all decide Pamela and Ash were both fabrications created by Zachariah. And then I realized that I had already come to this conclusion, and had ficced it. But where? It's not on my LJ anywhere. I think I posted it in the comments to someone else's post. Probably

kalliel; I think she's the only one whose comments I abused in that particular manner. But I found it in my files, and I present it to you now. I don't know when I wrote it, but I see it was probably right after we met Joshua 2.0 in s14. Apparently it was in response to some discussion about Sam and Dean being soulmates with a shared Heaven:

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Genre: Gen, casefic
Length: ~20K
Rating: PG-13 for language
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Soulless Sam, Bobby Singer
Spoilers: Through season 6
Synopsis: A casefic set in season 6, soon after "Chained Heat" and before "Appointment in Samarra." Dean and Soulless Sam are in Florida again, where Dean's working two cases - the monster he and Sam are hunting at Disneyworld, and the case of Sam's missing soul. And he's got a lot of soul-searching to do. Which sounds like a bad joke, but his life has turned into a bad joke, so. It fits. With flashbacks to season 4, soon after 4.03, "In The Beginning."
Author's note: Written for the 2019

spn_j2_bigbang. Huge thanks to my artist,

amberdreams, who plucked my unloved fic from the reject pile and produced some truly squeal-worthy work - please go visit the art masterpost on LJ or AO3. (Disclaimer: if any Disney lawyers come calling, I'm going to tell them I don't know her.) And equally huge thanks to my ever-lovely beta,

themegalosaurus, and to

madbadandplaid who went above and beyond in terms of editing, questioning, and poking me with a sharp stick.

Also on AO3

~~~

2010

Dean wakes with a start at the the thunk of the car door closing. He's kind of surprised he actually fell asleep. He doesn't normally sleep well when Sam's driving, and even less so with this particular version of Sam at the wheel. He checks his watch and is shocked to see his nap lasted several hours. It's a tribute to the effectiveness of Jack Daniels, but it also explains why he's got such a godawful crick in his neck. Dammit. How does Sam not understand that do you want to head out in the morning actually means I want to sleep before we head out? And that no, that's fine, I can drive, I don't need to sleep isn't an appropriate answer?

Real Sam got that.

No, not past tense. Real Sam gets that.

RoboSam, on the other hand, drives through the night and doesn't bother to wake Dean when he stops at a gas station. The keys are in the ignition, so Dean pockets them and climbs stiffly out of the car, stretching and popping his neck as he heads toward the building. It's warmer than he expected, the air heavy and humid for December. He peeks at the newspaper rack next to the door to check their location and stops in his tracks, confused. He's still standing there when Sam comes out.

"Sam, why are we in Valdosta, Georgia?"

Sam hands Dean a water bottle and takes a long drink from his own. "Because we need gas? Because Valdosta is a convenient stop on I-75?"

"Goddammit. Why are we in Georgia at all? We were on our way to California. How is Georgia a convenient stop on the way to California?"

"California?" Sam blinks at him for a second, then laughs. "No, dude, we're going to Disneyworld. Disneyland is the one in California. I told you, two employees were mysteriously killed at Disneyworld. Which is in Florida."

Like Dean keeps track of which Disney is where. He just assumed, because… well, because his brother would never have accepted a case in Florida without being talked into it.

"Florida? You're okay with that?"

RoboSam shrugs. Of course he's okay with Florida, in the same way he's okay with everything. "We don't have to go if you don't want to. We can hand this one off to someone else."

"No, it's not that. I'm fine with it. I just didn't think you would be."

"Oh, okay." Sam folds his arms and gets that pissy look on his face. The look that isn't really Sam's pissy look, which makes it worse. "So it's not that you don't want to go to Florida. It's just that you want me to not want to go to Florida."

Because your real brother wouldn't want to. It's like he's waiting for Dean to say it. But Dean's not going to give him the satisfaction, considering how Sam acted after their last conversation about getting his soul back. He'd told Dean he didn't want it back, stomped off and refused to discuss it further, refused to admit Dean was right. They've come to an uneasy truce, if you can call ignoring the elephant in the room a truce. Dean hasn't capitulated, he just temporarily stopped telling Sam how wrong he is.

He shoves the keys into Sam's hand. "I gotta take a piss. Get some gas and then get the a/c running, but when I come back, you're riding shotgun. I'm driving."

And it feels wrong, it feels sneaky and disloyal, dragging Sam's body to the one place he never wanted to go again. But they're on their way to Florida, because no one's here to stop them.

~~~

(At some point in the last few years, Dean's life turned into a bad joke.

Two hunters walk into a bar. The bartender asks for their order, and the first hunter says "Whiskey for me. My brother here will have some demon blood."

The bartender says, "Hey, we don't serve your type here, fella."

The second hunter says "No, it's okay, it doesn't matter if it's not my blood type. I'm just gonna drink it.")

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The zombies (reanimated corpses, Sam insists on calling them) are dispatched easily enough. A swing of the iron fencepost turns them to dust. Even Sam, hobbled by his injury, can hold his own. And then they're all gone and you're standing there, surrounded by zombie dust, and Sam and Cas are looking at you like you're in charge, waiting for you to tell them what comes next. It's tempting to look right back and say "What do we do now, Chief?" but everyone who called Sam Chief is dead, and you're shitty but you're not that shitty. So instead you say "Okay, let's get Jack back to the bunker."

The kid weighs almost nothing but you let Cas help, because it seems important to him and because carrying the lightweight body on your own feels too much like carrying Mom. (It wasn't Mom. It was a shell incapable of holding life.) You put him in the back seat of Cas's truck and you cover him with a blanket from the Impala, and you briefly wonder if that same blanket has ever covered your own dead face, because Sam's carried your corpse at least twice that you can remember. Sam puts the iron posts in the back seat of the Impala, where you can easily reach them if needed. He's only using one arm now.

"How's your God-hole?" you ask.

He starts to shrug, then stops with a pained wince. "It's okay," he lies. "Not bleeding. What about you? You all right?"

"Peachy," you lie right back. Well. You're not bleeding either, so you must be okay.

You drive.

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But you don’t really care for music, do you? A coda for 14.20, "Moriah."

TW: Suicide

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caranfindel

September 2021

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Page Summary

Fic: We can be heroes, just for one day
Untitled coda for 10.03, “Soul Survivor”
Fic: The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
Fic: You don't know how it feels (to be me)
Fic: Take these broken wings and learn to fly (15.20 coda)
15.20 Coda: There will be no miracles here
Untitled 15.18 coda
Fic: Nothing to win and nothing left to lose
Fic: Flies in the Vaseline
Fic: But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be
Fic: Every hand's a winner and every hand's a loser (episode coda for 15.10, "The Heroes' Journey")
15.09 Coda: For the life of me, I cannot believe we'd ever die for these sins
Fiction Masterlist
15.05 Episode tag
Ficlet: 15.04 episode coda
Fic: When the New York Times said "God is dead and the war's begun" (a coda for 14.20, "Moriah")
On further review: Dark Side of the Moon (meta and fic)
Fic: We are merely players, performers and portrayers
14.20 Coda: It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
14.20 coda: I heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord

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Style Credit

Style: Ivory Alcea for Mobility by branchandroot
Resources: Mitsuba Aoi

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