ooc: short headcanon…

areyouhummingmetallica:

For those of you who watch SPN… A little something I thought I would share - my theory on Sam’s hallucinations and possible upcoming episodes….

Meg.

Meg said that hell is a prison of flesh and bone and blood….

Which is Sam.

I believe Sam is the Cage Lucifer is trapped in.

Mindfucked? You’re welcome.

-end transmission-

(Source: beautifulmindlittlebrother)

Anonymous sent: Candy!

Sam didn’t have a particularly sweet tooth. Not like Dean, certainly not like Gabe.  A packet of Skittles or M&M’s didn’t really constitute a meal in his mind.  Now and then he’d have a slice of pie with Dean, maybe an ice cream on a hot day.  But generally, sweet cravings were sated by fruit.  And he liked fruit.  No matter how much Dean twisted his face at it.

There was one thing he did have a soft spot for though.  Red Vines.  Twizzlers. Not that he’d ever admit it…

Anonymous sent: hc: death

Death was something that terrified Sam.  Not his own.  But other peoples.  He’d jumped through hoops enough times that he was surprised he was still walking and talking.  A trip to Heaven, a trip to the Cage and a trip to Purgatory… When his time finally came he had no idea where he’d end up, though if he had to put money one it, he figured he’d be heading back downstairs.

No. It was other peoples deaths that scared him the most.  Mainly because that meant he’d failed.  Failed to protect them or save them.  Failed to be a friend or a son or a brother.  It meant that he had to move on again.  To leave yet another person behind, gone, fallen.  The faces of each and every one of them burned into his mind. Jess, Dad, Ellen, Jo, Bobby… All of them.  Now some of them were back, even his mom, and there was nothing he wouldn’t to to make sure they weren’t safe.

No one would get left behind again…

Because sometimes it’s all you’ve got…

[After talking to Chuck]

Sam slid to his knees beside the bed, hands falling together and lacing, forehead pressing into the fold between. Hands that had taken lives and saved countless others. 

There had been times when he’d doubted.  When things weren’t as clear, when his faith fell or wavered… But it never left completely.  It was always there because there was always something worth praying for… Even if at times he wasn’t sure who he was praying to.

Yes, he asked for things… As a child; Please keep them safe, please make sure they come back, help dad, help Dean, help us, make the bad dreams go away…

As an adult it was less asking, more thanking, apologies, clearing his mind; I’m sorry, I don’t understand, am I doing the right thing, thank you… thank you… thank you… for letting us live, for bringing them back, for the fleeting moments of peace, for a glimpse of salvation, for hope, for Dean, Dad, Mom, Jace… for my family…

As he bowed his head, he wasn’t sure what to say.  There were no thanks, no apologies, only confusion and questions.

Why?

Why him?

Why now?

Is this a punishment? Did we do something wrong?  Did I?  Did Dean?

Is it justice?  

There was always a chance, to save them, everyone, we tried so hard, but you didn’t give us that chance… Not this time.

I don’t know what to do… Don’t know what you want from us.  From any of us.

It gets harder.  Losing them.  Never easier.  Have we failed you so much that this is all our lives are?  Blood and pain and loss.

I know there are tests.  Of character, of fortitude, of friendship, of faith.  I’ll take any test you want to throw at me, anything… And I still believe… Because there has to be more… Something worth fighting for.  It can’t just end like this… Not for Cas, not for Dean, not for them… 

So I’m asking, once more… Please… Please bring him back.

Please.

Sam’s hands fell apart, dropping onto the bed as his face pressed into the sheets.  If, by the time he moved, they were damp from tears, if his throat was raw from sobbing, if he swiped at red, tired eyes… if…  

It didn’t matter.  

Because the world turned.  

Life went on.

Stull… @Dean @John

echo2-1:

rambleonsingmysong:

Dean huffed out a breath of air and went slightly cross-eyed watching it swirl in front of his face. His body struggled to adjust to the change, he glanced over at his hand, wrapped tightly around Sams sleeve, knuckles white, shaking. He let go and dropped his fists to his sides, he was going to say something but his eyes locked on the expression on Sams face. He reached up and put his hand on the taller mans shoulder, “Hey-” his voice cracked at first but he finally regained his composure. “Hey man, you’re alright. It’s just us down here..” He stared at his brother, tried to lock eyes with him.

“Stay with us, Sammy,” John says catching Sam’s eye after Dean. “We need you for this.”

He’s been their drill sergeant long enough to see an impending freak out. They were rare. His boys were fearless. For better or worse, he’d insisted on it. But every now in then they had come upon something that truly scared them and John had had to be careful that they didn’t get lost in their fear and didn’t end up dead.

“Let’s just do what we gotta do and get the fuck outta here.”

Sam swallowed thickly and nodded, taking a deep breath, which turned out to be a mistake… the air was freezing and burned his lungs.  Just like… before… “Near the centre, that’s where we were… There should be pieces.  Michael and Lucifer’s escape must have broken some, because there’s no way they’ll let go on their own.  Even the broken bits… I don’t know if they’re still active or dormant or… So… Just be careful.  And remember… D-don’t touch anything.”  Sam bent down, picking up the horseman’s rings from the floor, at least they’d managed to bring them with this time… He snapped them apart, handing War’s back to his dad, and Death and Famines to Dean. 

He took small moment, trying to steel himself, it was… hard… trying not to…

Oh no… Not now… Please not here! Not now!

A quick flash of pain and everything blurred, hands coming up to his head as his eyes slammed shut, a vision… Another one… He dreaded what he was going to see… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was pain, unbelievable pain, voices yelling, not Michael this time… Lucifer, screaming, raging at something, someone… And for once it wasn’t Sam or Michael.  The new voice was familiar… He knew it, from what seemed a long, long time ago.

(Wait… this has already happened?  I know this?  It’s not the future? Then what—?)

Warm hands, gripping tightly, securely.  Ripping the chains away, out… Too much blood, more pain… The new voice again, calling his name. Cas?  Castiel is here?  A sensation of movement, of being lifted.  He couldn’t see.  There was blood in his eyes and he knew there were tears.  Another movement and the chains were gone… and… tearing, something being wrenched away, he tried to speak, to scream, but he had no voice, no mouth, no physical form.  His body was gone.  

“Wait!!! Please!  Wait!  Cas!?  I’m still here… Don’t leave… Please!? PLEASE!?”  No sound, just thought, the angel couldn’t hear him.

He heard the beat of wings and he knew Castiel was gone.  

There was nothing now but sense and sound and light.  If he had eyes he thought he might have gone blind.  Then the chains again, blotting out everything, ice cold and biting, not through flesh and bone, but at his very core, shredding and tearing; so much easier now that there was no form to stop them.  He would die. He knew now that it was possible to die in the cage.  His… soul… Would be torn apart… Quick and easy and it would be over.  For good.

A scream of rage and frustration.  Not from Sam, but from… Lucifer?  Something was pulling, ripping the chains away, hands, cold but gentle, shielding and protecting.  He heard the archangel scream, knew the chains were punishing Lucifer for pulling Sam away, but still there was the firm hold, soft voice whispering.  Something huge and the light was gone… Wings?  Wings and hands and the voice. “You’re safe.  You’re mine.  I will keep you safe, I promise.  It was always you.  Sam… I’m sorry.”

He was held, safe and protected while the chains tore through the archangel and not once did Lucifer let go.  

It might have been forever, it might have been moments.  There was no sense of time anymore.  Another voice.  More movement, and Lucifer was gone.  

“Now, Sam, I’m gonna put up a barrier inside your mind.”

“No, don’t touch me.”

“It might feel a little…Itchy. Do me a favor —don’t scratch the wall. trust me — you’re not gonna like what happens.”

“Please. Don’t do this.”

He tried desperately to hold onto the memory, Lucifer had saved him… saved his soul… And now he was gone and… 

Sam opened his eyes and heard screaming, his own voice now… felt… everything.  Saw, Death?  Dean… Bobby.  

Blinking up at the fan, spinning slowly in the panic room he felt a weird sense of loss.  Felt the wall in place… Something was missing… Someone?  And he couldn’t remember who.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uhh….”  Sam tasted blood in his mouth as he opened his eyes, knew his nose was bleeding, waited a moment for the headache to fade.  He looked at Dean, at his dad, mouth open and panting hard, breath clouding in the freezing air.  He remembered.  It… Made sense now…  ”He saved me…”  he said quietly.  ”Lucifer…”

Shaking his head, to try to clear it, Sam stood up straight swiping the back of his hand over his lip, even here, he couldn’t help a small smile flick across his face.  ”C’mon… We’re close…”  He eyed the chains, then took another breath and stepped carefully between them, heading for the centre where he knew the archangels had been bound…

(Source: halfcaffdoublevanilla)

Anonymous sent: Torchwood

Sam didn’t really know what Torchwood was. Something to do with aliens or some such. Fine let them deal with the otherworldly stuff, there were still plenty of monsters stalking the Earth that hadn’t been dropped from a flying saucer.  He had his job to do. They had theirs.

Porn and sex

ooc: Under the cut… well… because, reasons. O.o  Thar be smut.

Read More

(Source: halfcaffdoublevanilla)

Anonymous sent: Guns

Sam could field strip a rifle by the time he was five. A hand gun at four and a half. The rifle was trickier because his hands weren’t big enough or strong enough to unclip the sections.  Sometimes Dean would break it down for him. Going through the same routine, over and over. It was military precision, learned from their dad. No messing around. No joking when you were handling the guns.

Gun oil, detergent and the smell of gunpowder seemed to linger on his skin for days after. It wasn’t unpleasant. Not something he wasn’t used to smelling on both Dean and his dad. Just another scent, mingling with his dad’s leather jacket, the interior of the Impala, dusty motel rooms and cheap diner food.  It was something that was part of his life. It didn’t stand out as abnormal or unusual.

The first time he was allowed to shoot, was just before his sixth birthday. His dad had plonked the weapons down in front of him, and he’d set to the task, humming to music on the radio, cleaning and setting up the weapons.  Then he’d been taken outside, all three of them jumped into the Impala, drove to a field out of the way.  Cans and bottles for targets.  He knew what he was doing as he took careful aim, his dad standing behind him, Dean leaning against the side of the car, watching with an amused smirk on his face.  The first shot nearly ripped the gun from his hands with the recoil. John scolding and telling him to tighten his grip, change his stance.  Keep both eyes open.

He emptied the first clip without hitting a single thing.

Creasing his face he frowned, pouting at the gun, turning to look at his brother who gave a small nod and a wink. Sam smiled back and slotted in the second clip.

He steadied himself, squinting slightly at one of the beer bottles on the old wooden fence. Small fingers only just managing to wrap around the grip.  He inhaled, held it for a moment, then breathed out, squeezing the trigger slowly.

This time he didn’t miss.

Anonymous sent: Faith

Headcanon – Faith.

Sam prayed. Ever since he was a kid. Every night he would ask God to look after his dad and Dean. More so when they were out on a hunt.  Even when they came back, bruised, broken and bloody - they came back alive. So he said thanks.

Thanks a lot God. Thanks for listening. Thanks for keeping them safe.

Then he found out that angels were real. And that they weren’t the divine, gentle creatures he’d always thought – hoped - they were. Half of them trying to kick off the apocalypse, the other half trying to stop it.  And Sam and Dean caught up in the middle. Vessels for Lucifer and Michael in the big showdown.

The night before he said ‘yes’ to Lucifer, he prayed again. Not for himself. But for everyone else. That the plan might just work. That they would be safe.  The angels had told him God was missing.  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still hear him.

He’d made sure Dean couldn’t see, couldn’t hear as he got down on his knees and said the prayer he thought would be his last.  Dean had never understood Sam’s need to pray – he’d given Sam shit about it on more than one occasion.  It wasn’t like he didn’t believe, but he’d said praying was pointless. Sam knew Dean prayed too though. He’d heard him, now and then, whispering in the darkness, asking for help… for guidance.  And Dean had prayed to Cas – but that was more like ‘angel radio’ than faith.

When he came back from the cage, there was no need to pray. Not having a soul? Kinda no point really.  But then death had shoved it back in, the wall had fallen and he prayed again. This time for forgiveness. All of the things he had done, the people he’d killed. He wasn’t sure any more about anyone being able to hear him.  Wasn’t sure who or what he was praying to. 

He’d lost his soul. Lost his life on a couple of occasions…

…He never lost his faith.

Anonymous sent: Parents

Headcanon - Parents:

Sam didn’t remember his mom. Not when she was alive, he was way too young for that.  But he had seen her, in the old house in Lawrence when they’d gone to hunt the poltergeist.  He’d seen her in heaven, he’d even seen her in the past. Each time he’d seen her he’d thought she was beautiful… The smile she gave was pure warmth and love.  He was sad that he never knew her… but he would never forget her smile.