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SEPT 1, 2023
Night
Dean looked over to Cas searching with his eyes for an answer, a sign, a word that would tell him if anything they did made any difference. He wasn’t sure how he expected the angel to know this or how Castiel could tell him exactly what. Just because an angel can time travel and know the mysteries of the world, why would Dean Winchester think the angel would know if the deal sealed with Azazel’s kiss had made any difference at all?
“Did it matter at all?”
That felt like the first night of the rest of their lives….together.
*
SEPT 2, 2023
Daylight
When daylight broke the two went their separate ways. Ruby to the left and Anna to the right. The Winchesters were the next town over and waiting for their next lead. Ruby knew what to say to Sam and Anna knew where to lead Dean. Working together was more effective than against each other and the fate of the world in their hands gave a heady feel to the feverish rendezvous. An angel. A demon. Lilith, Lucifer and Michael impotent with their grand ideas while the two of them pull the strings of these “Perfect Vessels.”
“What could go wrong?”
*
SEPT 3, 2023
Tired
Nights blurred into the days. Dean and Bobby took shifts outside the safe room. No words passed between the two when they changed. Their eyes didn’t meet. The kitchen timer would ring and the tired sentry would wake up, startle or jump in his chair. The wait was excruciating. The worst part was they didn’t even know if it would work. Whatever Azazel did to baby Sam…was it reversible? Could they even get him clean? How far did the demon blood change his brother? His son?
Tired was a word. And it didn’t come close. Sick with fear was closer.
*
SEPT 4, 2023
Awake
“Sam is awake.” Dean pulled Bobby’s shoulder. He had run up the stairs two at a time, dragged him from behind his desk. Half asleep and a half a bottle in. Bobby’s eyes flew open and he wiped his brow. Relief and then embarrassment at his rock bottom.
“Sam is awake,” Dean repeated. He whispered as if Sam could hear him through the thick walls. Bobby felt whiskey sick and he cursed the day he picked up the bottle.
Sam is awake! And I’m green around the gills! What the hell is wrong with me? My boy…he made it.
*
SEPT 5, 2023
Fight
“Where’s the fight?” Dean asked as he loaded a handgun and flicked the safety off.
“Heading straight for us,” Sam said with a wry chuckle.
“Good. I hate a long wait,” Dean quipped. “And where’s Cas?”
“Not here, Han, ” Sam said with an edge.
“Not cool, Cas,” Dean said, dryly.
“Shall we?” Sam continued.
“Of course, maybe the angel can squeeze us in sometime today–”
“I’m right here, you ass,” Cas said, acidly, as he appeared to Dean’s left.
“Well, now that we got the band back together…let’s give ‘em a farewell tour they won’t forget,” Dean said with bravado.
*
SEPT 6, 2023
Strike
Dean and Cas backed against each other as Charlie and Sam connected wires, punched codes and dodged bullets. Dean clicked empty of angel killing bullets. Flares of white blinded the three humans.
"You'd think Michael would be a little more appreciative of our work here," Dean complained.
"Appreciative is not a word that is often used to describe Michael," Cas said as he blasted the Bunker door clean.
Charlie held her finger above the Enter key, "Strike now or forever hold your peace."
Sam, Dean and Cas nodded. She closed her eyes and pressed the button.
*
SEPT 7, 2023
Watch
The watch ticked past twelve am. Dean shook his hand away. As if the motion could make time move faster. Chuck had told them to meet him “here.” They didn’t know when or if he meant it. They didn’t know if battling each other to the death was going to sway Chuck’s heart or stroke his ego. They waited.
Jack laid down in the Impala. Not hiding. He couldn’t stand to see Chuck’s smirking face after losing Castiel. Dean and Sam were stronger than him. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t kill the old man if he said the wrong thing.
*
SEPT 8, 2023
Walking
Cas had been walking for an entire night when Dean answered. He called Dean continually. Their last phone call ended as Dean drifted off. He spent most of that time complaining about Sam. Frustrated with no answers for Dean about the Colt, Dean rattled on about Sam.
Castiel rolled his eyes. After a drought of uh uhs from Cas, Dean switched to laughing about their disastrous brothel trip.
Cas had been annoyed before. His feathers were ruffled now. The temptation to press the END button was strong. Then Dean complained about being tired.
Fine. I’ll call back later.
*
SEPT 9, 2023
Type
Chuck leaned back from his desk–or Becky’s desk and surveyed the type in front of him. A grin crept across his face. He hated endings. Endings were hard. This ending would hit the hardest when Sam and Dean finally fulfilled their destiny. He enjoyed watching their little soap opera, but timelines were getting fuzzy. There were only so many ways to an Apocalypse.
He was looking forward to the zombies. A wide pan out, their rotting hands bursting from the dirt.
“Lazarus Not Rising. Symmetry…sort of.”
He wanted it to hurt…because he was sick of them all.
“Buh bye, Cas.”
*
SEPT 10, 2023
Pen
No one knew when Michael was ready to unleash his monsters. He had explained his plan to Garth in great detail and with every sweep of his finely manicured nails through the air with the perfect delivery of every cartoon villain that Hollywood could pen, but Garth still didn't have any greater detail to send back to Sam via frantic whispers into his cellphone.
"Bess was always more clever than I was," he thought. He gulped when he caught himself using the past tense. His heart ached for his family.
"I should have told you I loved you more often."
*
SEPT 11, 2023
Sword
It took Dean a long time to absorb what Zachariah meant about the Michael Sword. When it dawned on him that he was the weapon? He felt a dull confirmation that his life had finally become what he had feared.
The nightmare from long ago: Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died.
Dean put the cleaned gun back together and told himself the nightmare wasn’t true.
But what do you do when that’s God’s Plan for you?
*
SEPT 12, 2023
Writer
Becky didn’t believe she was much of a writer. She worried it wasn’t because of her writing she had readers, but because of the Winchesters.
After getting married and still churning out fan fic, she felt bold enough to submit a “streamlined,” version of her writing.
It was well received. Her readers didn’t know anything about the Winchesters. Something clicked. All those hours, tears, and beta reads felt worth it.
She wrote a “fictional” version of an X-reader apology to Sam Winchester. She felt ready to move on from there.
Never did she think she would see Carver Edlund again.
*
SEPT 13, 2023
Actor
Just actors Dean tells himself as he and Sam walk back to the Impala. He feels sweaty and irritable. Sam is silent, but he could feel his brother’s smirk across the parking lot.
Just actors, he repeats as his armpits go slick with panic. Sammy starts laughing. Dean snaps.
“You shut the hell up, Sammy!” he hollers. Sam laughs harder and doubles over.
“The angel and the hunter, huh?” Sam asks. Dean spits and splutters.
“Dammit, Sammy!...and Adam?” Dean flushes.
“She was just an actor, Dean, but…yeah,” Sam admits.
“It’s not right…”
“You’re right,” Sam agrees.
*
SEPT 14, 2023
Dancer
Dean nodded towards the dancer. She twisted around the pole and leaned over backwards. She smiled, upside down. With theatrical slowness she reached one arm towards Dean.
“Hey Soldier,” she mouthed. Too early for such good tips and he's probably the only customer. Good. Easy. He seemed decent. Good-looking. Strong, but with a soft smile.
She wondered if he tasted as good as he looked. She hoped their venom didn’t paralyze him too much. She might like to test his strength…just a little bit. She snapped up the twenty and felt chagrined that her partner would find out first.
*
SEPT 15, 2023
Pirate
“What if we dress up as pirates, Benny? Huh? Huh?” Dean grinned. Benny gave him the stinkeye.
“Just ‘cuz you made up a word, doesn’t mean it’s a thing,” he drawled. His voice thick like a Louisiana swamp on a summer’s day. Dean’s smile wavered.
“How is that gonna help anything?” he relented. Dean plucked up and shrugged, “It’s Mardi Gras. We gotta do something!”
“No, we don’t,” Benny deadpanned. Dean was deflated again. Benny groaned knowing he was about to regret saying yes.
“Cuz of vampirate? Bless my damned soul–”
Dean clapped his hands together in victory.
*
SEPT 16, 2023
Stream
Sam and Dean slid down to the stream. Heavy rain had been a great cover for murder. Dean checked his mudcaked boot. Sam crouched low and snickered at the thick pancake on his brother’s boot.
“You might be eye level now,” he said. Dean was tempted to shove the boot into Sam’s back.
Arachne’s heavy webbing hung damp and ghastly like sodden Halloween decorations. Sam stopped snickering, annoyed at the resemblance.
“Arachne’s web? Good decoration this year, eh?” Dean smirked. Sam sniffed.
“Sure…maybe wipe the shit from your shoes,” he smiled. Dean’s face froze. He carefully sniffed the air.
“Dammit.”
*
SEPT 17, 2023
Physical
“Let’s Get Physical,” bounced through the abandoned bar as Dean and Sam searched for vamps. Sam went to the left. Dean jiggled his head with the 1981 bop.
The nest had wiped out the bar. A bold move. Why such a sloppy risk?
Cas blasted the door open. It screeched with metallic outrage. He looked around. Dean dropped his arm and their surprise. He scowled.
“They’re not here,” Cas shrugged. Dean stepped forward to argue.
“They’re not here!” Sam called. Cas raised his eyebrows at Dean’s threat. Sam returned and looked at them.
“Moving on,” he said and pushed past.
*
SEPT 18, 2023
Royalty
She was royalty. Finally. Unsurprisingly, Rowena found her calling after death and on the throne that her son had grudgingly held for so long.
The Winchesters. Perpetually…the Winchesters.
They, of course, played a huge part in her ascension as Queen. They missed her. They didn’t want to see her die, but her death rebuilt Hell. A pattern that would soon be repeated for Heaven. Besides, Hell was just a blood bowl away. Or perhaps Bezos had worked out a deal with our Queen? Either way, it was a temporary “Goodbye.”
Although, the universe would never be the same.
*
SEPT 19, 2023
Residue
Sam ran his finger along the windowsill. The gray residue wasn’t quite goofer dust, but not salt either. Goofer dust? Crowely’s hellhounds may have made a reappearance. Salt? Ghosts that possess humans would call for a greater offense.
He searched the room for ectoplasm. The next possibility was ghouls and graveyard dirt…or bone dust. Either way he knew he’d have to consult Rowena’s spells for something like a ghoul possessing people in a city nowhere near a graveyard.
Or maybe they discovered some awful new way humans once again prove more terrifying than things that go bump in the night.
*
SEPT 20, 2023
Pennies
Jack held two pennies. He focused. A warmth filled his chest. His face felt hot. He wondered if his eyes were glowing. It was odd to think he might look like a cartoon character to people who didn’t understand.
He had screwed up bad with Eliot, Max and Stacey, but he was determined to figure out his powers.
Heat spread to his fingers. He cupped a hand underneath the coins as they softened.
Molten metal dropped like a fiery teardrop. Abraham Lincoln was obliterated. The nephilim held a disc of hardening metal shaped like his curled palm.
“It’s a start.”
*
SEPT 21, 2023
Dollar
“Dollars to donuts, a wraith,” Dean smacked his lips around his fortieth coffee.
“I’ll eat my hat if it is,” Sam countered, “Burns around the victim’s wrists.” His hands smacked together, “Pyrokinesis.” Dean scoffed.
“They were camping! Idiots! Don’t know how to handle fires!” He wiggled his thumbs, “All thumbs.” Sam rolled his eyes.
“Well, don’t fly off the handle when the lamb’s blood doesn’t work,” Sam responded. Dean wrinkled his nose.
“You’re grasping at straws,” he shook his head, “You dropped the ball.”
“Guess I’ll just throw in the towel,” Sam said. Dean laughed.
“Ain’t you the cat’s pajamas.”
*
SEPT 22, 2023
Million
Cas tilted his head as the meteor shower filled the night sky. Molten rocks scarred the mesosphere with golden lines like tears in the very fabric of space.
He was supposed to be searching for what looked like angel killings.
He didn’t feel like tracking down kin anymore as the sky lit with earthly inevitabilities. It made him think of Dean.
These blinding streaks of matter that burned far too quickly. But the evanescence of human frailty was what made it so precious.
One of a million, he thought. He ached to be back by Dean’s side. Soon.
*
SEPT 23, 2023
Silk
Claire swung back in the egg-shaped wicker chair. She let her feet fall. It created a cool breeze on her ankles in the hot afternoon. She looked down and pulled a blue silk ribbon from her pocket.
Cornflower blue…like Jimmy’s eyes.
She worried it like a toddler’s security blanket. Except she knew she wasn’t going to hold on to it. The ribbon had caught on the brambles outside the court-ordered “independent high school.”
She made a plump bow around the round wicker frame.
She’d wait for the yelling inside her foster home to stop before attempting to eat.
*
SEPT 24, 2023
Linen
Sam brushed charred linen off the pyre. He found it while searching the woods for a changeling that left its mother sucked dry in town.
He found the pyre and what looked like blackened bones of a small child. His stomach churned at the sight even though he reasoned it was most likely a changeling.
He hated everything in the world right now. He hated not knowing the difference between a grieving “monster” or a human victim. He hated the possibility that it was a “monster” wrapped in linen like a fallen hunter.
Part of him didn’t want to know.
*
SEPT 25, 2023
Rock
“Between a rock and hard place,” Dean muttered as he tipped the whiskey back. “I hate that phrase.” He sucked his teeth.
“I hate whiskey…” Crowley said, lightly. Dean scowled. Puzzled. He shook his head.
“Why the hell did you become King if you hate it so much?”
“Why the hell did you follow me out the Bunker door? Leave that note…leave your brother? Your angel–” Dean’s fist hit Crowley’s mouth–hard. Crowley’s head jerked to his shoulder. He sucked his lip and the dribble of blood.
“Say that again and you’ll see me walk out the next door…” Dean snarled.
*
SEPT 26, 2024
Paper
Cas cut the thin paper. Squares. Triangles. The girl watched, enraptured.
He laid the scissors down. Her hands clasped in excitement for the Big Reveal. He pulled the paper apart.
"A snowflake."
She squealed and almost grabbed it.
“Can I have it?”
“Of course,” Cas laid the delicate paper in her hands. Her smile trembled with the memory of fear.
“It’s not cold,” she said. Castiel realized what she was thinking of.
“No. It's not a real snowflake and it won’t make you cold,” he assured her. His gift felt inconsequential against surviving the life draining force of a shtriga.
*
SEPT 27, 2023
Scissors
Dean flung his finger into “scissors.” Sam kept “rock.” He grinned.
“Dammit.”
“No one is gonna notice the missing oversized badge. In fact, I probably did you a favor.”
“Should’ve forced your giant ass into a clown suit,” Dean complained. Sam shook his head.
“Literally no one likes dressing western…except–”
“Watch your mouth!” Dean said loudly. Sam scoffed.
“Western wear in the twentieth century should be a crime,” Sam pestered his brother.
“Go say that in Texas!” Dean shouted, “Double dog dare!” He sneered dramatically and stormed out to change with his garment bag full of western wear.
*
SEPT 28, 2023
Angel
The snow fell on his black hair. He looked up and they stuck to his lashes. He searched the sky with mournful blue eyes. The universe hung over him like a heavy velvet drape of stars against black and purples.
He scanned the stars. Hoped his answer hung among the stars and moon. The universe felt cold. His human feet in the first snow felt...nothing. It was his heart that hung like a chunk of ice exposed to quick heat.
The surface burned. Steam rose. The temperature change from stillness to movement cracked the surface.
The angel began to feel.
*
SEPT 29, 2023
Demon
The piano tinkled with a light melody that was dissonant with the sinful smirk on Dean's lips. He gave Crowley the slip…again knowing his flunkies would keep watch, but leave him alone.
Dean's fingers skipped lightly down the ivories. His ears and fingers rang with honeyed notes, but his throat burned with the tang of too much whiskey.
Sam was on his way. He hoped he would leave him alone. He didn't want to kill him. He didn't think Sam would push it, but he didn't want to find out.
Life was already hell, The demon had come to stay.
*
SEPT 30, 2023
Kiss
"Dean Winchester, never been kissed," Charlie teased. Dean glared. His nostrils flared.
"I will have you know–"
Charlie laughed and cut him off. "A kiss that ever meant anything." Dean pursed his lips and looked away. Charlie's eyebrows jumped.
"Ohhhhh."
Dean knit his brow and stared. Charlie sucked her lips between her teeth. "I mean–"
Dean scoffed and took a swig of beer
"So at least once….?" Dean rolled his eyes. "Twice?" Dean scowled. Charlie gasped theatrically.
"Dean Winchester. You. Are. A. Romantic!" She cupped her face. Her eyes boggled.
“And you want to get married!”