I loved him. More than anything. And then God created… You. The little, hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down before you. To love you, more than Him! And I said, Father, I can’t. I said these human beings, were flawed, murderous. And for that, God had Michael cast me into Hell! Now tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right. Look what six billion of you have done to this thing. And how many of you blame me for it.

I loved him. More than anything. And then God created… You. The little, hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down before you. To love you, more than Him! And I said, Father, I can’t. I said these human beings, were flawed, murderous. And for that, God had Michael cast me into Hell! Now tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right. Look what six billion of you have done to this thing. And how many of you blame me for it.

(Source: boobsinger)

endversedeans:

“I’m just a regular boy who goofs around, pulls pranks, and makes jokes. That doesn’t sound very hot to me.”

(Source: crowlhell)

sammichgirl:

They looked like sprinkles of cinnamon.  Like Dean was dusted with cinnamon.  This wasn’t the first time he’d thought about those freckles.  Dean’s face, shoulders, back, collarbone – there were even some down by – no wait.  He was not thinking about Dean’s flat belly, packed muscle under a firm tight frame liberally sprinkled with cinnamon flecks.  Certainly not about his belly button.  Or his hips.  The small curve in his back that led to the swell of his ass.

And isn’t that an unusual way to think about his brother.

He wondered if Dean would taste sweet if he licked him.  Like cinnamon sugar.

Sam rolled from his side to his back, throwing his arms up over his head.  He’d been staring at Dean’s form bathed in moonlight because he couldn’t sleep.  This was the fifth night in a row.  What the hell was wrong with him?  He gave an exasperated sigh, abruptly aware that his cock had taken interest in his musings.

He rolled over again, facing away from Dean this time, and tried to squelch the sensations rushing through him.  Best not to think on it.   Think about other things, simple things.  Like cinnamon. 

Cinnamon was a very valued spice.  In fact, it had very important roles in history, from even before Biblical times.  And in the Bible, it was referenced often, for instance, in the Song of Solomon, it described the beauty of his beloved, in cinnamon scented garments.

Sam gave a small whimper then, lost in feelings he wasn’t prepared to handle.  He realized he’d made too much noise as his eyes flew open wide and his breath caught.  Dean had moved to spoon around him, still asleep, pulling Sam to him, like he would when Sam had nightmares. 

Sam waited for his heart to stop racing.  Yeah, that wasn’t happening.  He was tucked into Dean firmly, Dean’s cock riding against his ass as he was slowly rocked back and forth.  He was about to hit panic mode at any point – he couldn’t continue like this, and he didn’t want to wake his big brother up and have to explain.

Unexpectedly he felt wet warmth over his ear as Dean whispered, “It’s gonna be ok, Sammy.  Shhhh, don’t worry.”  Sam’s whole body twitched in confused response and Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s waist, letting his thumb graze over the exposed skin on Sam’s hip. 

Sam was gonna come, right in his pajama pants.  He wasn’t wearing underwear, and Dean kept them rocking, there was too much stimulation coming at him from multiple angles and he was gonna blow.

Dean’s thumb found its way down into his pants just below the waistline, and a slight brush along the very sensitive skin there – that was it, Sam came hot and sticky wet, gasping for breath.  He slumped, boneless, into Dean’s frame and let himself float without thought.  That lasted all of five seconds before he realized what had just happened.  Before he could get a sound out, Dean’s hand was over his mouth, that hot breath again washing over his ear. 

“Sammy, shhhh.  Everything’s ok.  Just let yourself sleep now, little brother.  We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Dean let his hand slip from Sam’s mouth to rest again on his waist.  The slow drag of fingers across Sam’s skin felt comforting now, slow caressing circles instead of maddening delicious friction.  They were no longer rocking against each other, just snugged tightly together, and Dean pressed a small kiss to Sam’s neck. 

As Dean’s breathing evened out, the lull of post-orgasm bliss washed over Sam.  He was drowsy, his mind still a cloud of questions, so he kept repeating Dean’s words over to himself like a lullaby.  

Sam let his eyes flutter shut, fairly certain it had all just been a wild dream.  The cooling sticky mess he could feel drying said otherwise.  As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought was that he never did lean over to taste what he was now positive were cinnamon-sugar freckles.

sammichgirl:

He let himself live an extra four years.

Well, to be exact, an extra four years, three months, and eight days.

Dean was gone and nothing could bring him back this time.

Sam wasn’t the same.  It was unlike any death the brothers had experienced before.  Something told Sam deep down inside, this was it.  There was an eerie peaceful acceptance that washed over him.  He wouldn’t talk.  Would barely move.  He became a shell of a person, his life force ripped away when Dean’s heart stopped beating.

Jody tended to him as best she could.  There was no light in his eyes.  He survived, but he wasn’t living.  Jody didn’t know all the details since Sam wouldn’t speak. 

She’d found him alone in the rundown house they’d been squatting in.  He’d actually sent her a letter via the US postal service, asking her to come, brief details of a hunt gone wrong.  She thought it odd he hadn’t called or texted, and made her way to him as quickly as she could.  Upon her arrival, she understood – he’d needed time.

Sam had already salted and burned Dean’s body, all of his belongings, and the Impala.  For all she could gather, it surprised her that he didn’t throw himself on the pyre.  He made eye contact with her once, opened his mouth and attempted to speak before promptly shutting it and going to sit outside on the porch.

He spent his days there, just watching over the open fields.  Sitting inside near the window when it was too cold.  Never any emotion, just blank stares and minimal monotonous movements.  So she did what she could for him, even reached out to Garth about how to break whatever spell he seemed to be under.

When Garth came to visit, he took one look at Sam and knew.  This was no spell.  He told Jody the same.  It wasn’t even grief.  Sam was waiting to die. 

Waiting for what, they had no clue – and given all their training and hunter experience, they couldn’t understand why or figure out the only clue they had – Sam himself.  He was just biding his time until he could be with his brother again. 

Four years, three months, and eight days.  The exact amount of time Dean had lived until Sam came into his life, their souls calling to each other.  The exact amount of time Sam would live until he joined his brother in their shared Heaven, when their souls would reunite. 

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