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Mrs. Hyde Fic: Writing on the Wall

SPN - Sam - Personal savior GOD YES
Hello, dears. I come bearing Hyde!Fic. Specifically, Hyde!Gift!Fic. To me, because I am Special.

Okay, so, you guys know I ship Dean/Cas, and Season Six made me ship them ridiculously. However, the problem with it is that I ship them in a…very weird way. To the point that there is almost zero fic out there that I’ve seen and that I like. It’s all too sappy, too sexual, too explicit, too feathery, too anything. I’m that picky about them. The only fic I’ve ever really read that was the perfect Dean/Cas for me was Hyde’s fic “Vide Cor Meum”, and that wasn’t even technically a Dean/Cas fic!

However, Hyde and I started talking, lamenting that the main reason so much of that fic does nothing for us is because it feels so OOC. The main problem with the fic is that is just isn’t inclusive—so many of them suffer from a case of “the only way to revel in our epic love is to exclude all others” (that, and both Dean and Cas are schmoopy, drippy messes and it’s absolutely revolting). There are usually two ways the D/C shippers do this.

A) They pair Sam off with some other guy.
B) They make Sam an evil, hateful homophobe for conflict and excuse to write him out because he’s EVIL, and nobody wants to be around him.

Combine that with a long discussion that went on over at das_sporking about how we are not the only ones who would love to see a D/C fic where Sam is perfectly okay with it and loves and supports them both about it?

BAM. I come up to Hyde’s place and she presents me with GIFT!FIC! Even better? It’s ostensibly D/C but in reality is an epic spitefic that shows just how awesome my Sammy Winchester is. So, while it’s a gift!fic for me, I have to share it with you guys because everyone else wanted this, too.

This filled me with such squee, even though it ships D/C a little more explicitly than I usually take, and I hope it does the same for you. Seriously—I love this fic. I command you to read it! Take it away, Hyde.

Title: Writing on the Wall
Author: Mrs. Hyde
Beta: das_mervin
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Family/Comfort
Word Count: 3,815
Rating: PG-13. There’s D/C by necessity, but it’s purely in the background; this is a Sam&Dean fic.
Spoilers: Through the SPN Season 6 finale
Summary: Sam deals with his brother’s relationship with Castiel. Set vaguely post-Season 7.
Author’s Notes: This is another one of my own brand of patented Hyde-style reconstructionist spitefics. Inspired by all those crap stories wherein Dean and Cas get together and Sam suddenly turns into a raging, intolerant homophobe who renounces his brother in the name of pointless drama and so they have an excuse to cut Sam completely out of their lives so they can have soppy manlove in private. This is my defense of Sammy, in a take on what would really happen in such a scenario, as discussed here by all you guys in Mervin’s spork of “Because God Commanded It.
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television, and no profit is being made from this work and no copyright infringement is intended.


Sam opened his eyes.

He stared up at the watermarked ceiling, in that state half-in and half-out of sleep, trying to figure out what was missing, what was wrong. It took him a moment to realize that what was missing was the feeling that something was wrong—because nothing was wrong. There was no dread in his chest, no clenching fear in his gut, no mystery gnawing at his brain, no sense of urgency pushing him into action.

It was morning, and it was quiet, and he had nothing to worry about.

He tried to stretch and immediately regretted it; he’s spent the night cramped on the narrow sofa in the upstairs back bedroom, and his spine felt like it had frozen in a permanent S-curve. Screwing up his face, he sat up, feeling the pops that rattled their ways down his spine as he straightened.

Yawning hugely, he scratched rather vaguely at his head before grimacing at the greasy feel of his hair; he needed a shower.

Sam leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and just sat for a moment, listening to the stillness in the house. They were done. They were all done, they were all safe, and they were all alive—everyone. He could relax. He didn’t know if the thought made him feel astonishingly young or profoundly old.

With a sigh, he hove himself to his feet and rummaged in his knapsack for a shirt that looked passably clean. Finding one, he pulled it over his head as he shambled out into the hall and towards the bathroom.

After pissing what felt far more than his bladder could actually hold, he flushed the toilet and then twisted the tap on the sink, letting the burst of rust pass before leaning down to splash a cold handful of water over his face. He groped for the ratty old towel on the bar by the sink; drying his face, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and couldn’t help but pause. He was still himself, of course, but when he leaned forward, he thought he saw traces of tiny wrinkles lining the corners of his eyes.

Well, he would be thirty next year, after all. As if to reassure himself, he ran his hand through his hair as he dropped the towel back on the bar to dry; it was, thankfully, uniformly dark. Although if being possessed by the Devil himself wasn’t enough to make him go gray prematurely, he didn’t know what else could.

But when he moved out into the hallway and spotted the door to Dean’s room slightly ajar, he realized that yes, he did know.

He had only the slightest idea of what he was in for when he stood on the edge of that precipice in the graveyard…but until last night, he had no idea of what Dean had gone through, watching him make that jump.

Not until he had to watch the same.

This time, it had been Sam who had been forced to stand aside. He’d had to watch his big brother march out to face something bigger and more powerful than anything that they had ever dealt with—to march to some fate worse than death and leave Sam behind and alone.

Only…he hadn’t. He’d faced it—and he’d won.

Sam still didn’t know quite what had happened, and Dean wasn’t talking. All he’d seen was that blinding flash, the release of millions upon millions of foul, twisted souls, and for a moment had known what it must feel like to stand at Ground Zero, the needles of heat and light lancing every inch of his skin.

And then it was over, and when the spots behind his eyes had cleared, there had been a smoking crater on the ground in front of him…and there was Dean, sprawled on the rim, dazed and bewildered, but utterly unscathed.

Sam had run to him, a wild joy filling him up to the brim. He’d thrown himself on his knees next to him, seizing his brother in a bone-crushing hug, because he was here, he was alive, and it was done. And then Bobby was grabbing them both, holding them tight, and when Sam pulled away Dean was actually starting to grin, because he was here and alive and Sam had never seen anything so wonderful…but it was gone an instant later.

Sam had followed his eyes, looked over his shoulder at the burnt and blackened pit behind him…and to the small, unmoving figure crumpled at the bottom.

Sudden, unexpected grief had hit him like a punch in the stomach. That—that thing they’d been fighting wasn’t Cas, that was some psycho on a drug trip, just a bigger, nastier version of all the same old shit-sucking supernatural monsters that preyed on innocent people. Cas was their brother, their friend, the one who had given everything for them, had died for them, had stood by them in their darkest moments…and who was lying dead on the scorched dirt at their feet.

And who then moved.

“Cas?!” Dean’s shout had been rough with disbelief. He’d scrambled down into the smoking shell, and Sam and Bobby had followed after.

He’d looked so small, collapsed on the ground, as if he was nothing but an empty husk, burnt out from inside by the inferno of souls that he’d swallowed. But when they’d rolled him over, and those bright eyes had opened in his smudged and bloodied face, Sam had known in an instant that it was Cas, that he was back, that he was himself again.

He’d stared up at them, at their still-wary, questioning faces…and Sam couldn’t help the reflexive clench in his gut when he saw something in his eyes shatter, and then they filled with tears.

Cas had curled in on himself, into a huddled ball of misery, those horrible, silent tears pouring over his cheeks, so utterly broken. And what else could they do but flank him, draw him up into their embrace, and forgive him.

Sam peered through the open door, and there he was. Cas was sprawled out in the empty bed, tangled up in the sheets, his hair more rumpled than usual, his long bare limbs motionless as he slept. He still looked small, but his face was serene in a way that it never was when he was awake—not merely serene, but peaceful. A little angel, Dean had once said, and a tiny smirk curled Sam’s lip at the thought, but it fled quickly. That was all that would be angelic about him now. Those souls—or maybe something else, he didn’t know—really had burned him out. Now he was nothing but a man—or as close as he could be, anyway.

It would take some getting used to again, Sam supposed, but a de-powered Cas certainly wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d dealt with in his time.

But the fact that it was Dean’s bed that Cas was currently lying in was definitely a contender for the title.

The three of them had dragged Cas up out of the crater left by the release of the souls; he’d been unable to walk, either too weak or too grief-stricken to do so under his own power. He’d been limp in their arms, but felt somehow weightless, as if a strong wind would just pick him up and blow him away; no wonder he’d clung to them as they manhandled him up, his pale hands fluttering around their shoulders like the broken wings of a bird. He didn’t make a sound, not even with those tears streaming down his face, until they’d finally gotten him up away from the blast radius. Only then, hiding his face in his hands, had he said he was sorry, so sorry, and they said they knew, it was okay, everything was okay now, but he just kept saying he was sorry, so very sorry, because he loved them so much.

Dean had peeled Cas’s hands away from his face, leaned in low to look him in the eye and told him that they forgave him. When Cas just asked in disbelief why, Dean had looked away and then roughly told them that, well, they loved him too, and that’s what you do for the people you care about, and that was that.

Their faces so close and their expressions so intense, Sam supposed he shouldn’t have been quite so surprised when Cas closed the distance and messily kissed him, but he was. And he wasn’t sure what surprised him more: that, or the fact that for a moment, Dean had kissed back.

Afterwards, Sam was pretty sure Dean didn’t know which shocked him more, either.

Unable to help himself, Sam leaned forward to peer further into the room, but aside from Cas, it was empty. Quietly, so as not to wake him, he slipped by, tiptoeing past the closed door to Bobby’s bedroom, and made his way down the stairs.

They hadn’t said much else last night; just hauled Cas into the car and drove home in silence. They’d bundled his unresisting form inside, and Dean, not meeting their eyes, had taken him upstairs, said he’d clean him up. Sam and Bobby had looked at their retreating backs, then at each other, and then just went their separate ways in the house.

The last few steps creaking under his feet, Sam padded his way into downstairs hall and toward the kitchen and stopped short.

Dean was sitting at the kitchen desk, and there was a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting next to him. His shoulders were hunched; Sam watched him tip back the glass in his hand and then fill it back up again. He didn’t react to Sam’s presence behind him. Really, he didn’t even seem to notice he was there, which told him just how preoccupied his brother was.

“Bit early, isn’t it?” Sam asked, pointing at the whiskey bottle as he rounded the table. Dean nearly leapt out of his seat at the sound of his voice, looking up at him with that typical mixture of shock and outrage that everyone got when someone snuck up on them. However, it was gone just as quickly, and Dean looked away from him. Sam saw the back of his neck flushing darkly.

He didn’t say anything, but Sam knew he couldn’t hold his silence for long. Dean never could. Sam just plonked down opposite him at the table, staring out the window at the gray sky for a moment, and then gave Dean the opening that Sam knew he wanted. “So—how is he?” he asked.

Dean’s gaze flashed up at him, quick and wary, and then went back down to the tabletop. “He’s—uh, he’s fine. Ish. I guess,” he grunted. His voice was rough, and Sam could smell his breath even across the table; he’d been at the bottle for a while already.

“This going to be permanent?” Dean tensed and looked up at him sharply, not relaxing when Sam quickly continued his question, “This de-powered thing? He’s just gonna be one of us for good now?”

“How the hell should I know?” Dean shot back.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “You were the one who faced him down, not me—I just thought you might know something we didn’t,” he said placatingly.

“Yeah, well, I don’t!” Dean bit out. “And quit staring at me!” he abruptly snarled.

“…I’m not?” Sam said after a moment.

“Well, then don’t just sit there—say something, dammit!” Dean flew out to his feet, his chair scraping loudly behind him as he thrust it away and turned to stare out the window, his shoulders taut and brooding.

Sam shifted in his seat. “What do you want me to say, Dean?” he finally asked.

“I want to you quit pretending like—like you—like you didn’t see that, last night,” Dean finally said.

Sam’s mouth twisted. “I’m not pretending anything. I saw,” he said.

“And?” Dean demanded, still not looking at him.

Sam pursed his lips. “And—nothing,” he said with a shrug.

No!” Dean roared, spinning around. “It’s not nothing, it’s—I’m—son of a bitch!” He whirled back around to stare out the window.

Sam sat, quiet; there were times when he had to extract information out of Dean like a dentist pulling wisdom teeth, but there were other times that he just had to let him get it out on his own—he’d eventually manage to say what he needed to.

When he still didn’t speak, Sam again offered him an opening. “Dean—I really don’t see what the problem is—”

And that was all he needed. “Really?” Dean asked furiously, spinning on his heel to glare down at him. “You don’t see the problem? Oh, well, I do—I like pussy, goddammit!”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing in Dean’s face—that was the last thing he needed. Dean was breathing heavily, and looked about ready to start swinging, so Sam sat still until he could speak. “Okay,” he said in measured tones. “That’s fine—that’s great. You like pussy.” He looked him in the eye. “…And you like Cas.”

There. It was out. Dean seemed to sag where he stood. He rubbed a hand across his face, looking out the window for a moment, and then turned back to Sam. “And—what? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” he finally asked.

Sam looked off, praying for patience. “Dean, I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally said. “You want me to try to talk you out of it? To give you some Chick Tracts? Or—or light some candles so we can pray to the Mother Goddess?” Dean gave him an incredulous stare, and Sam spread his arms in a helpless gesture. “It sounds like you’re the one having trouble, Dean,” he told him. “I’m fine with it. Really.”

“How in the hell are you just ‘fine with it,’ Sammy?” Dean demanded.

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Dean, did you forget that I went to college in Stanford? In San Francisco, California? America’s Bowl of Granola—the Pride Lands?” A chuff of laughter escaped him. “Dude, half the population of that place was so flamingly gay that they made Liberace look subtle.”

Dean had twitched a little at Sam’s words, but he just went on. “After living there for four years, believe me, I’m not going to be bothered by what you do on your own time with one guy. Who,” he added, talking over Dean, who had looked like he was struggling to speak, “if you think about it, since he was an angel, may not technically be a ‘guy’ anyway.”

“The hell he’s not,” Dean blurted, and immediately the blood slammed into his face.

Sam squinted his eyes shut. “Okay,” he finally got out, holding up one finger, “see, now that was too much information, Dean.” Dean had slumped down in his chair and wouldn’t look at him. Sam just shook his head and looked at the scattering of used glasses on the table until he found one that was clean enough not to have anything growing in it and then poured himself a finger of Dean’s whiskey. “Seriously, though—whatever you want to do is your business,” he said, raising his glass to his brother’s still somewhat disbelieving expression. “Just so long as you keep it your business,” he informed him with a wry grin. “For a change.”

Dean furrowed his brows at him. “And what is that supposed to mean?” he asked, glaring.

Sam gave him incredulous look. “Uh, maybe that you’re an exhibitionist along with being a voyeur?” he challenged. “And don’t try and deny it,” he said firmly over Dean’s attempt to protest. “I’ve seen more of you than I have ever wanted to, and in positions that still haunt my dreams.” He snorted into his glass. “Sometimes, I think I’ve seen more of your sex life than my own.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dean retorted. “Name one time you’ve seen me.”

Sam gave a bark of laughter. “One? Is that all?” he taunted. “How about your little sex-romp with the two lookalikes outside of St. Louis?”

Dean scoffed. “I had a year to live, man—I owed that to myself,” he said loftily. “Besides, you knew what I was doing in there, and you walked in anyway.”

“Okay, well, then how about that time in Clancy, Montana?” Sam fired back. “I was fourteen, and we’d talked Dad into letting us get our own motel room so we could stay up and watch movies. I went out to hit the vending machines and when I came back, you were in bed with the owner’s daughter. I ended up crashing on the floor of Dad’s room.”

Dean’s chin jutted out. “That wasn’t my fault. I was eighteen years old, and she jumped me, not the other way around, and you think I would just—”

Sam was on a roll. “Oh, and let’s not forget that time we were enrolled in school in Lebanon, Kentucky. You slept with Jennifer Morris, the Homecoming Queen—”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Dean said with a laugh, and then abruptly looked disconcerted. “Wait a minute—how did you know about that?”

Sam smirked. “Because her little brother had a peephole into her room through the back stairwell and took pictures and sold them all over the middle school for five bucks.”


“And I cannot count the number of times,” he said loudly over Dean’s outrage, “that we’ve been in a bar somewhere, you’ve disappeared with some girl, and when I go outside looking for you, I’m treated to the sight of your pasty white ass waving in the rear window of the Impala.”

Dean’s face got that pinched, pissy look that he always did when he had no response. Sam couldn’t resist one last needle. “Why do you think I never want to sit back there?”

The glower Dean was giving him would have peeled paint; Sam just snorted. There was a brief silence, which Sam broke. “Dean,” he said, leaning forward over the table. “We’ve seen what the end of the world is like—and this isn’t it.”

Dean flushed a little and looked at the tabletop, but when he looked up, it was with a strange sort of hopeful amazement. “Then…that’s it?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Sam shrugged. “Don’t see why not. It’s…kinda weird, maybe,” he admitted, and felt something like relief to see Dean’s eye-rolling agreement, “but it’s not gonna sent me screaming into the night or something.” He met and held his eyes. “You’re still my brother.”

They were still for a moment in their silent communion, until Dean went back to tracing the wood grain of the top of the desk with his eyes. Sam blew a breath out through his nose, regarded Dean for a moment, and then lightly said, “Besides, not to, ah, belittle your accomplishment, or anything, but I think I’ve got you beat.” When Dean looked up, Sam leaned conspiratorially across the table. “I’ve shacked up with much, much worse than you ever have.”

Dean gave a rough chuckle and then polished off the last of his drink. He stared out the window for a moment, and then he said, his voice a little hoarse, “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam smiled. “No problem,” he said, and Dean smiled almost shyly back.

There was a creak of the floorboards, and they looked up to find Bobby standing there at the entrance to the kitchen. He eyed Dean. “You two lovebirds finally get yourselves sorted out?” he asked dryly.

Dean turned red again and looked off. Sam chuckled. “Hey, Bobby,” he said. He poked around on the table at the small forest of old glasses. “You wanna join us for a little morning Wild Turkey?” he asked. “Breakfast of champions.”

“Way ahead of you, boy,” Bobby said, plopping down in the chair next to Dean. “Was workin’ down in the basement.”

“Oh—I thought you were still asleep.”

He gave a rude snort. “Are you kidding? My room shares a wall with his—ain’t nobody sleeping on that side of the house last night.”

Sam couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, particularly not in the face of Dean’s mortified expression. “Oh, man, I know how that is,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Any time we make a stop and Dean picks up a girl, I request a room on the other side of the motel.”

Dean’s face was the color of old bricks; Sam just smirked at him, but when the movement in the doorway caught his eye, he did a bit of a double take. “Oh—hey, Cas,” he said lightly.

Dean tensed, and they all looked over. Castiel was lurking in the doorway, dressed in his usual getup, his head held low and his expression unsure. “Hello,” he said after a moment.

“Come have a seat?” Sam offered, keeping his voice neutral.

Cas hesitated, and then slowly crossed the floor, paused again, but then slid into the seat next to him, opposite Bobby. He kept his eyes down, only daring to look up once, and when he caught Bobby’s gaze, looked quickly away again.

“You okay, kid?” Bobby asked him after a moment.

Cas looked up slowly, his expression one of uncertainty tinged with disbelief . “I—” he started, and his eyes flicked toward Dean once. He licked his lips, and then finished, “I am…getting by.”

Sam gave him a half-smile. “Hey—that’s about the best any of us can hope for,” he told him. Cas looked at him for a moment, his face filled with a painful, grateful sort of wonder, and then nodded.

The four of them around the table were quiet; Sam finished his whiskey and looked over to Cas; whatever he had been thinking of saying died on his tongue.

Cas was looking at Dean. Not just looking, but looking, that way he always did—the way he always had—even though he wasn’t an angel anymore. His eyes were focused, unblinking and intense, as if drawn towards Dean by an irresistible force.

Sam flicked his eyes to Bobby and raised his eyebrows; he just rolled his eyes back. Guess all those times demons and angels joked about him being in love with Dean, they really weren’t kidding, Sam thought. He looked at Cas a moment more and then over to Dean. He was mostly just staring down at the tabletop, but every so often, he’d look up and meet Cas’s eyes, and…well. Clearly this was “going to be permanent.”

Yeah, sure, it was weird, Sam supposed, and it would definitely take some getting used to. But Dean was his brother, and, well, that’s what you do for people you cared about.

And that was that.

~ end ~


( 24 comments — Leave a comment )
Jun. 11th, 2011 03:43 am (UTC)
This is fun! I like how Sam rapidly moves from "I don't care who you sleep with" to "I am really sick of accidentally seeing you naked", because that seems like something that would bother him.

I never thought homophobe-Sam made any sense. Depending on the context, I could see him either giving an overly-sincere "I accept you and I'm glad you came out to me" speech that would annoy Dean, engaging in a bit of friendly teasing, going "I don't care about the guy thing, but that particular guy is dangerous and/or evil" or just not caring.
Jun. 11th, 2011 02:12 pm (UTC)
Thank you! Hey, it's canon that Sam doesn't like seeing Dean naked--every time he gets some hint of Dean's fooling around, he's visibly squicked.

Me neither. I mean, with all the cr@p those two boys have pulled in canon and then overcome with the Power of Brotherliness, why on earth would Dean sleeping with a guy be the thing that sends him? Right--he might try to touchy-feely route, but that would just p*ss Dean off. :o) All those reactions seem much more realistic and IC than Sam going completely off on him for being omgtehghey.

Thanks so much for reading, and I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Mrs. Hyde
Jun. 11th, 2011 11:08 pm (UTC)
In S1 or S2, I could quite picture Sam being a bit overly sincere and Dean being profoundly annoyed. In the later seasons, I could see Sam pretending to have an overly-sincere touchy-feely reaction just to annoy Dean, then laughing about it.
Jun. 11th, 2011 04:30 am (UTC)
This. Is. Brilliant. Just, I love your style of writing--it's gorgeous. I've thankfully never seen those types of fics you were talking about with Sam being homophobic (I like my awesome!Sam far too much), and I agree, a homophobic Sam makes no sense. But in any case, I love the dialogue, and the back and forth between Sam and Dean about the sex thing was hilarious. Overall, this was a lovely read (and definitely good for the soul after the season finale!).
Jun. 11th, 2011 02:15 pm (UTC)
Aw, thank you so much! I've seen far too many, I'm afraid; I don't read them, but the summaries are enough. It's always just some excuse to get Sam out of the picture so that coitus ensues--which is pretty much the exact opposite of the whole point of the show and the Epic Brother-ness that are the Winchesters.

I'm glad you liked it--I always worry about my dialogue, and I don't feel like I write Dean quite as well as Sam. I'm glad they were funny. And I admit, I wanted a little balm for my soul too--I'm a Cas!girl, and I did like writing a little bit of redemption and forgiveness for my boy after 6.22. ;o)

Thanks so much for dropping in and I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Mrs. Hyde
Jun. 11th, 2011 04:37 am (UTC)
Okay, this is awesome. Of course Dean has massive hang-ups about liking a guy, and of course Sammy isn't upset about that but doesn't want to walk in on his brother having sex--AGAIN.

And thank you, Mrs. Hyde, for mentioning Stanford! Geez, fandom, Sam went to college in California! Do you really think he'll be freaked by the concept of gay sex?

Finally, I'm nuts about the friendship and trust in this story. I love that Dean can demand that Castiel restore the souls and that Castiel will do it because Dean asked it. I love that Sam and Dean can talk and tease and laugh and not break. I love that Bobby's main objection is the noise. And I love that Sam's reaction at the end is, "Well, I'll need to get used to this, but if this what Dean wants, no prob."

I love this story so much.
Jun. 11th, 2011 02:23 pm (UTC)
Thank you! Yeah, I thought it seemed like he would; he doesn't come across as homophobic in canon, but he does seem pretty thoroughly straight, despite what some fangirls may say. And Sam definitely doesn't like seeing Dean naked.

Oh, you're welcome! Sam is definitely a modern guy, as opposed to Dean, who is still sorta stuck in the 80s. Really, this fic took off in not-quite the direction I'd intended; I knew Sam would be fine with it, but it was a bit of a surprise to find Sam actually having to be the one to talk Dean through it. But after I thought about it, it seemed to work.

Thanks so much! That was the spite I wanted, in the end, 'cause those lousy Sam-is-Evil, Die-for-our-Ship fics are so stupid and pointless and entirely contrary to the show; I wanted to have all the boys just be themselves. Mervin and I are of the opinion that one way or another it will be the "profound bond" to snap Cas out of his bad trip. Of course Sam would needle Dean a little; they're brothers, and that's what they do. And Bobby, well, he just rolls with whatever, man. He's awesome. And in the end, Sam still loves his brother and just wants him to be happy.

I'm so glad--thank you so much!

Mrs. Hyde
Jun. 11th, 2011 01:05 pm (UTC)

I love you, Hyde :D. Thank you for writing Sam so realistically, and the sweet image of Cas all curled up in Dean's bed. And how Dean was the one having a crisis rather than Sam xD

Jun. 11th, 2011 02:38 pm (UTC)
Aww! *hearts all over you too* You always review me so nicely--you're going to swell my head to ridiculous proportions. I'm so glad you liked him; I don't lust after Sam, but I do still love him dearly, so I hate seeing him villified and abused. I am a Cas!Girl, though, so I cooed at the tiny little angel there myself. :o) And I honestly didn't expect to write the dynamic quite like this, but as I went, it really seemed to work, that Dean would be utterly freaking out, and Sam would actually have to talk him down.

Thanks so much--feel free! I'm so glad you liked it!

Mrs. Hyde
Jun. 11th, 2011 02:13 pm (UTC)
*Glomps Hyde* WHEEEE!

I love it. I love it so hard I want to wrap it up and snuggle it like a puppy. It is AMAZINGNESS.

I am dismayed but not surprised to hear how Sam gets the Ron Weasley treatment when it comes to Dean/Cas. But this was PITCH EFFING PERFECT. I totally believed that Sam would go from "Hey, it's okay," to "Your sex-maniac tendencies have scarred me for life!" Lulz. I don't blame Sam in the least for always riding shotgun.

CAAAASS. OH, CAS. *Loves him so much* I hope this is what really happens to him in S7! (And yes, I mean finally getting together with Dean, too. ABOUT TIME, DONCHA THINK, SHOW?)

Brava, Hyde. Brava.
Jun. 11th, 2011 02:44 pm (UTC)
KERMIT! *is glomp'd*

Thank you! I'm so glad!

Oh, I know--I don't read that cr@p, but I'm sorry to say it's very prevalent, and not just in SPN. It's that same TW mentality, that if you have a romantic partner, everyone else must be completely cut out of your life, which is COMPLETELY AT ODDS with the Winchesters' relationship. I'm so glad you thought this worked! Of course Sam would be fine with it, just so long as Dean is happy--and it's canon that he is squicked by seeing a little too much of his brother in compromising positions. ;o)

Oh, I know. *is a Cas!Girl and totally hearts all over him* I had to leave things intentionally vague, since we don't know how it's going to go down, but Mervin and I do think that it's gonna be Dean's turn to face down the super-powerful thing to save the world, and that it'll be their profound bond that brings Cas down off his bad trip. Heh--this was actually a bit more actively shippy than I usually go for with them, but, hey, it would totally work for me.

Thank you--thanks for reading!

Mrs. Hyde
Jun. 11th, 2011 02:19 pm (UTC)
Beautiful story.
Jun. 11th, 2011 02:45 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much!

Mrs. Hyde
Jun. 11th, 2011 02:30 pm (UTC)
I've never liked Dean/Cas, and I think some of it has to do with what you mentioned in the notes--that all the characters appear completely warped from their normal selves, and a lot of authors seem to do the fanfic-equivalent of fitting a square peg into a round hole to make the pairing "work".

But this--this was moving, and funny, and completely believable. You've written Sam so well here. This is exactly how I'd imagine he'd react.

Also: oh, Cas. :(

Brilliant work!
Jun. 11th, 2011 02:52 pm (UTC)
Well, I didn't actually ship them either until S6, when the subtext was so ridiculously over the top that it was nearly text. And even then, I'm still like Mervin, with this very strange, non-sexual, and almost totally one-sided way of shipping. Probably a lot of that is for those same reasons, too--people just Don't Get It. But for this scenario, I kinda had to make it work, just so I could set up the scenario for Sam.

Thank you so much! I can think of no higher praise than having someone who is normally not a fan of the pair think that I made it work. But, pair or no, this was really about Sam, so I'm always anxious to hear from the Sam!Girls. I'm so glad you liked him!

Of course, oh, Cas. My Cas!Girl-ness kinda bled through, I think, but I do hope for his redemption.

Thanks so much!

Mrs. Hyde
Jun. 11th, 2011 04:31 pm (UTC)
That was actually pretty cute. :D Dean and Cas having that special moment was really cute. :D

Awesome job, btw. :D
Jun. 11th, 2011 04:40 pm (UTC)
Thank you! The boys are always cute when they're having a legitimate discussion about their feelings--I couldn't think that this would be any different. And, D/C shipper or no, you have to admit that Dean and Cas can be ridiculously cute together. :D

Thanks so much! I'm glad you liked it!

Mrs. Hyde
Jun. 12th, 2011 04:23 pm (UTC)

Bravo, Mrs. Hyde. This is really how it should go in late Season Seven.

I really don't get homophobe Sam either.

His eyes were focused, unblinking and intense, as if drawn towards Dean by an irresistible force.

I'm of the opinion the profound bond that formed when Cas pulled Dean out of hell ran a lot deeper than we could be shown and keep it acceptable for the censors. Cas had no clue what he was experiencing, and Dean couldn't accept that he deserved Cas' unconditional devotion.

This fic is going to make me meta.

Thanks for sharing, Merv!
Jun. 12th, 2011 08:44 pm (UTC)
Thank you! I'm happy to please--and though this scenario is a bit more shippy then I usually am with D/C, I wouldn't mind at all if it ended up this way.

I know! It makes no sense! After the cr@p these two have pulled and then later forgiven each other for, why on earth would a little bit of gay be the thing that causes Sam to disown his brother? That's ridiculous.

I dunno if it was the pulling-out-of-hell itself--Cas was a jackass to Dean during his first couple of episodes, and the original angelic d*ck--but it definitely laid the groundwork, and since then it's only gotten profound-er. I mean, I was never a real shipper of those two all through S4-S5, but by S6, censors or no, the subtext was almost text. I mean, they had a three-episode long breakup with a tender piano theme over a montage of longing looks and tears on both sides! I'm a canon-stickler and a half, and I'm about to call the pair official.

Hey--meta is always fun. Particularly when there is slash to be had. ;o)

Thanks so much for reading, and I'm glad that you liked it! And Mervin says "You're welcome!"

Mrs. Hyde

Jun. 12th, 2011 07:21 pm (UTC)
Brava! This description of Sam's reaction is awesome and made me sniff- especially that he helps Dean work through it. I don't regularly scope out the fanfic forums, but it pisses me off to hear that so many writers have decided that for Dean/Cas to work, they need to write Sam out of the way..."Chick tracts" is a good way to dismiss the concept of Sam being an evil homophobe with as much contempt as it deserves. Thank you!
Jun. 12th, 2011 08:35 pm (UTC)
Thank you! Aw, I didn't mean to make you sniff, but I can't help but be a little pleased that I did. :o) I didn't start out to have Sam working Dean through it, but as I went it just turned into it, and yes, in the end I really thought it worked myself.

Oh, I'm not a big SPN fanfic-er for just that very reason; given the number of crazies in the fandom, it's no surprise that such a large amount of the fanfic out there is pure suck. Just 'cause I was first a Dean!Girl and then a Cas!Girl doesn't mean that I want to trash Sam--I lahves him too, I just don't lust after him. Heh--I'm glad to amuse.

Thanks so much for reading, and I'm happy that you enjoyed it.

Mrs. Hyde
Jun. 22nd, 2011 06:53 pm (UTC)
That was that, indeed. :-) Brilliant. *is a fan of your take of these characters*
Jun. 22nd, 2011 08:32 pm (UTC)
Aww, thank you! Although mine could never hope to live up to the canon ones, I'm glad that you at least like my pathetic attempts!

As always, thanks for reading, even though this isn't your fandom of choice.

Jun. 23rd, 2011 06:38 am (UTC)
Nope, not a fandom of choice, this is true. :-) But I am quickly turning into a fan of your version of these boys. ;-)
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