Sam and Dean talking about John in The Things We Left Behind, season 10
While I know everyone has mixed feelings about John, (myself included), season 10 put some rose colored glasses on Sam and Dean. It is true that time softens things, as the writers attempt to show:
CASTIEL: What about you? Did you love your father?
[Dean looks to Sam, then back to Cas.]
DEAN:
With everything I had.
SAM:
Yeah. Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t always easy, but yeah.
DEAN:
I mean, look. John Winchester’s not going to win any “Number One Dad” awards, you know? But you know… damn if he wasn’t there when we needed him.
SAM:
Hey, uh … Tell him about that time in New York.
DEAN:
Oh yeah. Yeah, okay. So, uh … We were working this haunting in Long Island, and me and Sam begged the old man to let us go to the city for once.
SAM:
He had this thing about New York, right? Too big, too loud, too dirty.
DEAN:
Yeah, and he hated the Yankees.
SAM:
Big time.
DEAN:
Somehow, we convince him to let us go. So, we all go. We all, you know, see all the sights, and uh, ride the subway, eat too much pizza. The whole nine. Well, by about midnight, Sam and Dad are zonked, and I figure… Screw it. I’m going to CBGB.
SAM:
So CBGB is—
CASTIEL:
I know. It’s where The Ramones and Blondie got their start.
[Sam looks to Dean, both of them taken aback.]
DEAN:
Right.
SAM:
Wow. Anyways, he was WAY underage at the time.
DEAN:
All right, so I get there. I sneak in, and it is nuts. I mean, people are drinking and they’re smoking and they’re—they’re snorting whatever. There’s a five-hundred pound guy on stage with a Mohawk just screaming. And, uh, my mind is blown. I don’t even know what to do. Then this girls walks up and she says “Hey, why don’t you come over and sit down with me and my friends at our table?” All right!
SAM:
Yeah, and they get him drunk. First time.
DEAN:
But not fun drunk. I’m not quite sure what was in that stuff, but the room starts to spin, and I feel like I’m going to puke … forever. And right about that time, I hear him. “Dean Winchester!”
[Cas looks confused, but Sam just smiles.]
My old man. I don’t know how, but he found me. And now I’m really freaking out, because he’s just standing there, not saying anything. I look around, and everybody else is freaking out, too. In fact, nobody’s even looking him in the eye. And finally, this one guy with, like, a safety pin through his nose and a—a “Kill Everything” tattoo looks up and he says, “Sorry, sir.”
[Cas smiles, and Dean shakes his head.]
Yeah. “Sorry, sir.” To John friggin’ Winchester.
[He and Sam take a sip of their whiskey, while Cas throws his back like a shot.]
CASTIEL:
He saved you.
DEAN:
Yeah, and you know what he got for that? Me whining about how much he embarrassed me. Me telling him that I hated him. But then he stopped and turned around and he looked at me and he said, “Son, you don’t like me? That’s fine. It’s not my job to be liked.”
SAM:
“It’s my job to raise you right.”
DEAN:
Yeah. And he did.
—————————
Although I thought the line “Damn if he wasn’t there when we needed him” was a bit of a stretch, I’d like to give John the benefit of the doubt, because even under the best of circumstances parenting isn’t easy.
this scene gives me chills and simultaneously hurts/warms my heart bc Sam and Dean have come SO FAR from the superficial Daddy Issues of the beginning of the show. John Winchester did raise them right – when he was present – and look at them now.
so, i am honestly baffled by how they’re going to bring him back and for what.
Fun Vampire Fact; the reason that Vampires traditionally cannot see their reflections in a mirror is because mirrors used to be backed with a reflective layer of silver — which, as the metal of purity, would not ‘interact’ with Vampires, who are the Devil’s work.
However, modern mirrors have used aluminum as their reflective backing for many years now — and aluminum is not a ‘picky’ metal at all. So Vampires are able to see their reflections in modern mirrors.
All I can think about is a vampire used to not seeing their reflection in mirrors for centuries, and one day they are just walking along and unknowingly pass a mirror backed with aluminum and THEY NEARLY SHIT THEMSELVES.
Summary: You’ve been missing something of paramount importance – until now.
A/N: this fic is inspired by a few things private and one very special-to-me fic by @covered-byroses called Give You A Hand. I probably read that fic twice a week. lol Thanks, CBR.
You don’t know what possessed you to make the choice you made tonight – to go to bed with this unfamiliar man who’s not your husband. Maybe it’s the enticing enigma that surrounds the Winchesters in your small town. No one knows what they do or what brought them to Lebanon, and you were more than intrigued by the opportunity to find out a little bit more about them, drawn in by his smile, his eyes, his charm.
On the other hand, it could simply be that you’re lonely. Maybe… maybe you’re finally acknowledging how unhappy you truly are, how unsatisfied, how sad; but this surely seems the backend way about it.
Regardless, when you went up to the bar for another round for your coworkers and he looked at you – something swirled in your belly and lower. He made you wet from just one look. It had been a long time since you’d been wet by any other method than lubricant and the slick gush was at once welcomed and nervewracking.
And when he touched you – shook your hand, gentle and firm, his work-roughened skin electrifying your soft palm – it was a revelation.
Now you’re laid out under him, his big hands moving you to his liking – which turns out to be yours as well – his mouth and fingers working your cunt, his skin sliding over yours. He’s all heat and friction and power, and you’re having a hard time breathing through the sensations and emotions.
This is what you’re missing in your life, this intensity and sensuality. You knew you would; you and your mom talked about it, about how important sex is to a successful marriage, but you brushed it off, disbelieving that the utter lack of passion could leave such a large void.
After all, you’d had your day. You’d been around the block – Hell, you’d been all over the neighborhood and into the next – many, many times, right? And really how important is sex itself? Turns out it’s vastly fucking important.
You feel closer to this man, this stranger than you’ve felt to your husband in years. It seems that sex is the easiest and strongest way for you to bond with another person. You wish you could find intimacy in other ways, but nothing else gives you the comfort and closeness you get from really good sex.
His fingers and his tongue and his lips are making you feel things you haven’t felt in over a decade, and he’s uttered nothing more than lascivious moans and groans in almost 30-minutes. The last thing he said to you before your clothes hit the floor was, “I just wanna make you come.” And you didn’t argue.
You don’t know what he does for a living. No one does, although everyone speculates – CIA? Are they in witness protection? Are they even brothers? You get the distinct feeling that it’s something important in the primal sense as if his very existence, his history and his brother’s are woven into the fabric of the universe, keeping it together.
He couldn’t be more different from your white-collar, perfectly pressed, good-natured husband, with his weather-worn face and hands, dangerously scarred torso, and an almost frightening darkness comfortably nestled in the verdant depths of his warm, smiling eyes. You almost make yourself laugh when you wonder if this guy even has an email address. Not that you’d use it if he did. You just want to use his strong, solid body.
He slowly curls his long, strong fingers inside you, brushing the callused tips over your g-spot to roll equally roughened knuckles in their place, and you groan. You can’t get your legs open enough for his beautiful face and wide shoulders, so you’ve draped one knee over the heat and breadth of him, flung the other wide, and pushed your fingers into his hair to hang on as he owns your cunt.
“You’re so wet,” he breathes between swipes of his tongue and twists of his knuckles. “Bet y’could take my whole hand.”
You groan again, the thought of his big, rough hand fucking you whole and hard makes you slick over him even more.
“Want that?” he whispers, pushing up onto an elbow to watch you, corkscrewing his wrist and slowly slipping his pinky in to join his other three fingers. Before he clamps his slick lips over your clit he chuckles, “fuck, yeah, y’do.”
You really can’t open up enough for him, but he finds his way inside you. He’s got most of his fist up in you, knuckles rhythmically rubbing your g-spot, thumb working your clit in time with his tongue. Before you know it, you’re coming, and it hurts, and it’s bliss, and fire sizzles up your sides, up your throat, through your temples to your brain… you’re screaming.
You’re screaming his name, and you’re swearing, and everything hurts so fucking well. You feel like he’s split you in two and put you back right as he slows his movements, licks you long and soft, kisses your hipbones one at a time and gently retracts his fingers from inside.
When his forearms brace his full body over you and fence you in, you can smell yourself on his lips and cheeks and chin. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you deep and long, push his hand slick and wet with your cum into your hair. It’s all so filthy, and you whimper around his thick tongue, licking into your mouth.
Your hands explore his skin, scars scattered over a smooth, beautiful canvas. He’s slim but his shoulders are broad and he’s solid everywhere, curves and planes in all the right places. He’s strong and he just keeps showing you what he’s capable of.
“You came so hard,” he groans on the consonants and draws out the vowels into your neck, and your knees come up around his hips. “Got me all wet. Fuck.”
He uses his teeth on your neck, then, sucks the delicate skin, pulls. You’ll have bruises and you can’t even pretend to care. Then his hard cock is slipping and bumping at your entrance.
“Open up for me,” he murmurs. “Gonna make ya scream again.”
You huff a breath, lock your legs behind his back, and tilt your hips, feeling him immediately slide inside, his full length slicking your clit down as he solidly fills you where he’d stretched you so wide with his almost-fist. Your cunt sucks him in wet and tight, and the sounds you’re making together are messy and lewd.
You swear aloud, long and breathy, and then he’s all the way in. Deep and snug and – this is what you want. You want this every time – this is heaven. You don’t want to let him out.
He moves, then, and it’s slick and solid and you’re one with every slide. You move like you belong together like this is the first and last and everything. Then he rises to his knees and twists you and lifts your leg, and his thick cock is hitting you where it counts.
You say his name and grip his wrists where they’re strategically placed on your body and you come again. You decide right then that you’ll gladly take everything he gives you. You’re eternally thankful that you finally met the mysterious Winchesters of Lebanon, Kansas. And you have a feeling that this one might be just as thankful for meeting you.
IncogNinja 