open post for pic prompts, starters, and texts. f/m or f/f for shipping. see here for more permissions. please link nsfw images. compatible with all seasons of wynonna earp.
[ Dean's tired. Of all the emotions he's feeling right now tired probably is the stronger of them all. Everything else takes a backseat to the sheer exhaustion he's running on right now. Between Michael being in his head for so long, Jack's issues, the loss of their friends and his mother it's a miracle that Dean is still even going. But he can't stop. Not when God's pissed and he's basically decided to start the apocalypse because you pissed him off when you wouldn't participate in his story. Fighting your way through risen undead just to get the hell out of there wasn't his first choice, but it was the safest. They couldn't take them all down and still walk away breathing. He wasn't gonna sacrifice Sam or even Cas just to prove a damn point. That he could keep going.
Sam's guilt between Michael slaughtering half of the hunters they knew and Jack taking out of their mom finally wore him down. Exhaustion kicked in once they were clear of danger. Neither one of them were in any shape to take anything on right now. Dean would insist he was fine, but he's trying to look out for Sammy who finally conked out when they entered Purgatory. He was snoring when they passed Shorty's. Cas didn't say a word the entire drive. Possibly wary of how he was going to approach Dean. His mom's been dead for a few days now. More than that. Their fight is in the back of his mind, but it's covered up by everything else. Apologizing and making things right with him isn't the most important thing in his eyes. At least not until they get somewhere safe. He doesn't trust the bunker. Chuck knows where it is and there's no telling what kind of hell he could bring down on them there.
Before they reach Wynonna's Cas asks to be let out of the car to get some insight about God. Duma's dead and apparently there's no telling what's happening. Jack's body is in the trunk and when Dean pulls up to the homestead he doesn't know what to do about it. Part of him says a hunter's funeral, but the hopeful part wants to bury the kid. Maybe they get lucky. Maybe someone other than God fixes him and brings him back. It's strange to think he might want that when he was okay with killing him originally. But deep down he knows that with no soul that Jack isn't himself. If he was fixed then maybe it could be repaired. They could be repaired. It's wishful thinking, but maybe Dean's just tired of losing people he cares about.
He kills the engine and for a moment he just listens to Sam breathing next to him. After a moment he reaches a bloody hand up to turn down the mirror visor and get a look at himself. It's not just his bloody that's on his face and hands. He's got cuts and bruises, but typically this is how Dean can look after a hunt. Banged up, but there's something in his eyes. He can see it. Anyone who knows Dean can see it. A huge hole is inside of him. Ripped open when Jack killed her. Made worse when he held the husk of her that Jack brought back. He did cry, but he made sure to do it on his own. He didn't need to have another heart to heart with Sam about shit. He didn't need him to analyze him anymore.
Finally he climbs out of the Impala and with a slight limp he gets up onto her porch and to the front door. Sam's still sleeping in the front seat. She knows they were on their way, but now comes the hard part of having to look her in the eye and explain things in more detail. Dealing with Jack's body is high on the list, but he's still not sure what do. Kid deserved better than to have this crappy end. He came so damn far. After another beat he finally knocks. Hard and with purpose. He takes a step back once he does so. ]
[ She's here, ready and waiting for them. "Ready" might be the operative word, though, because when you get a text from the guy you're kinda sorta seeing with news that a literal army of the undead is hot on his tail, it's not exactly like you're breaking out the wine and cheese plate and welcoming him with open arms. She's prepared, inasmuch as she can be, even though it's something that has never once been used to describe her in any serious sense.
Purgatory turns out to be the safest place they can go, when all is said and done, because the same energy that gives the Ghost River Triangle its curse also seems to offer some kind of protection from the heavenly forces. Whether it's because the land's overrun by demons, vampires and everything else drawn inside town limits is unclear, but it's a better place for Dean, Sam and whoever else is tagging along to rest and lick their wounds for a few days. She's under no illusions that they'll stay for good this time. They never have before, and she's learned to abandon anything resembling hope for a happy ending, especially where she's concerned. She doesn't get to have that either, not until the Earp curse is broken.
One upside to living on the edge of town, though; you hear people coming from miles away, and the Impala's always had a distinctive sound to it, that kind of purring rumble that you feel in the soles of your boots when you're standing close enough to her. If she hadn't been warned they were coming, she would've figured it out now, long before the engine shuts off and the sounds of heavy footfalls on the old, creaky steps of the front porch reach her hearing. She's been nursing the same glass of whiskey for who knows how long now, and she sets it aside when the knock comes, maybe rushing to the door a little faster, giving her worry away in that haste.
She throws the door open and looks at him; it's not the first time she's seen him bloody — some of it his, some of it not — but it's the haunted expression on his face that stops her dead in her tracks, gives her pause, makes her curve her fingers around the doorframe instead of reaching out to him right away. That's the face of someone who doesn't know where to begin, but she can tell whatever it is, it's definitely not sunshine and rainbows. ]
[ Dean's gotten used to appreciating the little things. In his line of work that's all you can really do. Because usually something is trying to kill him. You have to enjoy things when they happened. Cold beer six pack and a few hours on his own without anyone wanting something. When things are quiet he's usually the first one to find something to do until that boredom does creep into Dean. He's contradictory that way. Little things can really make Dean just smile sometimes. Which is why when the door opens and he sees her in the flesh he actually feels his lips tugging up into a smile.
The world is literally on a crash course to ending and he knows it. Dean can feel it. They left the horde behind, but they'll find them eventually. Who knows. Chuck'll probably give them some divine guidance or something. They have time though. Easy to outrun the dead when you have a car that can go a hundred. But no matter how fast Dean drove he couldn't outrun the body of Jack in the trunk. Killed in front of them. He couldn't do anything to stop it and he feels the weight on his shoulders. Crushing him.
There's a half nod from Dean and for a moment he considers just letting it lie there with the drink joke. Just entering and taking that drink. He'll go out and wake up Sam eventually, but for now he wants him to rest. He needs him at a hundred percent. ] Got the whole bottle? [ But the words don't hang in the air for too long before Dean actually makes a move forward. He steps towards her and pulls her into a hug. She's in one piece. Chuck didn't get to her. He'll have to check on the rest of her group, but he knows she'd have told him if anything happened when he texted her. ]
It's damn good to see you. [ The words are softer than Dean intends. It's the first time he's stopped moving though. Everything in his mind still. His body still. ] I uh--started thinking maybe Chuck worked his freaky Chuck Almighty magic over here or something.
[ His smile doesn't quite reach the look in his eyes, but it's still there — whatever this is hasn't found a way to take it from him yet, hasn't beaten him down enough for the hope to be gone altogether. It warms her to see it, a reminder that even after all that's been taken from them, they still have things worth holding on to, hope and each other and a will to keep fighting even when it feels damn near pointless sometimes.
She's checked in on the others — Waverly's hunkered down at Nicole's place, Jeremy's with his honey bun and had definitely sent her way too many emojis in his reply back, and Doc is holding things down at Shorty's, because there's nothing like the oncoming apocalypse to make people want to drink. It's been her and Peacemaker here for the past several hours, the homestead idly settling around her with a few creaks and groans, and she's got a bottle of whiskey sitting just beside the glass she'd poured herself not too long ago.
But she makes the joke when she sees him because it's all she knows how to do; she's not good at these moments, the sincere ones where her brain is already trying to come up with at least thirty different ways to underscore it so she doesn't have to live in the meaningful for too long. She only has enough time to process his remark before he's stepping forward to wrap his arms around her — and she doesn't crumple, doesn't break, because that's not her either, but she does slide her arms around him too, tucks her face into his shoulder without care for the dried blood on his skin and clothes, and breathes him in, slow and easy. ]
You too. [ She might even let herself hold on to him for a few extra beats before withdrawing, hands gently cupping the underside of his arms as her eyes find his. ] No. Whatever he's cooked up hasn't found a way to spill over here yet. Maybe it's competing curses, I don't know. All I know is we're safe here, for now.
[ Dean makes sure to breathe her in. It's been a long time since they've gotten to be in the same area code. Before Michael killed the hunters. Before his Jack killed his mom. Before Chuck killed Jack. One long conga line of deaths. It's the Dean Winchester way. People get close to him and then they die. He told Sam before. He's poison. He's a fool for convincing himself that maybe he could have just a few good things going on in his life. If he had just convinced Sam to put him in the damn box (that he neglected to Wynonna about) then Michael never would have got out. Things wouldn't have spun out of control. Hunters would be alive. Jack never would have burned a huge part of his soul off taking Michael out. His mom wouldn't be dead. Maybe Chuck woulda just left them alone.
Right now she's just about his last leg. Because everything else may be gone, but she's there. Sam's alive and safe. Cas is somewhere doing angel things while he tries to figure out what's happening with Heaven and the chaos that Chuck has caused. When you piss off God? Make sure you have some way to maybe kill him for real so he doesn't come back and completely fuck you. Who knows how many spirits or demons are out there right now. He called Bobby on his way here and he told Dean he'd start rounding who was left up to make sure Chuck didn't get extra vindictive with them.
Her hands on him are good. They ground Dean right now. They remind him that they still got a chance maybe. They gotta figure out a way to stop what they made happen. Easier said than done though. ] That'll piss him off. Hope you're ready for when he finds a way to crack through. [ Because it's gonna be some holy fucking vengeance. They didn't go by his script. ] Cas is in town trying to figure some things out. He'll meet us here later. [ He's also likely trying to stalk Wynonna's family to make sure they're safe. But he probably looks creepy doing it.
Silence hangs in the air for a moment, but it's something he knows that he's gotta touch on with her. He's got a body in his trunk and it's been in there for hours. He can't just leave Jack in there over night. He looks away from her for a moment and then steps back. He runs a hand over the back of his neck and looks down. ] Chuck killed Jack. I uh--[ There's a shaky breath and a unstable look to him when he makes eye contact again. ]--don't know what to do with his body. He's just a kid. I couldn't leave him behind.
[ It takes being confronted with the sight of him like this for her to realize that she's just grateful to have him here in one piece, real and warm and under her hands, even if she doesn't know the full story leading up to tonight and everything that's on their tail right now; she assumes that Sam and Cas are at least somewhere nearby, if not waiting out in the car themselves, and at some point they're going to have to take inventory when it comes to their own, especially if this is going to be the place where they make their final stand, but she can't find it in her to be mad about him for bringing this to her doorstep.
She'd told him once before that she'd have his back for whatever came next, whatever they had to face, and she'd meant it even in an end-of-the-world type scenario; it's not her first time dealing with one of those and she knows he's got a few apocalypses under his belt, so between the two of them and the others maybe they can even keep their shit together long enough to survive a little longer. They've cheated Death before, sometimes literally, so who says they can't pull it off one more time?
Either way, they're not going to figure it out at whatever the hell time it is now, when most of Purgatory is sound asleep in their beds completely ignorant of what's coming; in the morning, they'll put some coffee on and put their heads together and Sam and Waves can hit the books and maybe they can stumble across a fix, but for now it's just the two of them in the old house idly settling around them, the fire crackling in the other room and a bottle of whiskey to get through.
She breathes out a sigh when he mentions Jack, and for a minute there's nothing to say at all; she just closes the space between them to hug him again, guiding him to her shoulder with her cheek tucked against his. ] Do you wanna take care of him now, or — maybe we can wait for everyone else, bury him in the morning? [ Up on the hill, maybe. Near where she had to bury Dolls. ]
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if you're unhappy and you know it clap your hands
Sam's guilt between Michael slaughtering half of the hunters they knew and Jack taking out of their mom finally wore him down. Exhaustion kicked in once they were clear of danger. Neither one of them were in any shape to take anything on right now. Dean would insist he was fine, but he's trying to look out for Sammy who finally conked out when they entered Purgatory. He was snoring when they passed Shorty's. Cas didn't say a word the entire drive. Possibly wary of how he was going to approach Dean. His mom's been dead for a few days now. More than that. Their fight is in the back of his mind, but it's covered up by everything else. Apologizing and making things right with him isn't the most important thing in his eyes. At least not until they get somewhere safe. He doesn't trust the bunker. Chuck knows where it is and there's no telling what kind of hell he could bring down on them there.
Before they reach Wynonna's Cas asks to be let out of the car to get some insight about God. Duma's dead and apparently there's no telling what's happening. Jack's body is in the trunk and when Dean pulls up to the homestead he doesn't know what to do about it. Part of him says a hunter's funeral, but the hopeful part wants to bury the kid. Maybe they get lucky. Maybe someone other than God fixes him and brings him back. It's strange to think he might want that when he was okay with killing him originally. But deep down he knows that with no soul that Jack isn't himself. If he was fixed then maybe it could be repaired. They could be repaired. It's wishful thinking, but maybe Dean's just tired of losing people he cares about.
He kills the engine and for a moment he just listens to Sam breathing next to him. After a moment he reaches a bloody hand up to turn down the mirror visor and get a look at himself. It's not just his bloody that's on his face and hands. He's got cuts and bruises, but typically this is how Dean can look after a hunt. Banged up, but there's something in his eyes. He can see it. Anyone who knows Dean can see it. A huge hole is inside of him. Ripped open when Jack killed her. Made worse when he held the husk of her that Jack brought back. He did cry, but he made sure to do it on his own. He didn't need to have another heart to heart with Sam about shit. He didn't need him to analyze him anymore.
Finally he climbs out of the Impala and with a slight limp he gets up onto her porch and to the front door. Sam's still sleeping in the front seat. She knows they were on their way, but now comes the hard part of having to look her in the eye and explain things in more detail. Dealing with Jack's body is high on the list, but he's still not sure what do. Kid deserved better than to have this crappy end. He came so damn far. After another beat he finally knocks. Hard and with purpose. He takes a step back once he does so. ]
no subject
Purgatory turns out to be the safest place they can go, when all is said and done, because the same energy that gives the Ghost River Triangle its curse also seems to offer some kind of protection from the heavenly forces. Whether it's because the land's overrun by demons, vampires and everything else drawn inside town limits is unclear, but it's a better place for Dean, Sam and whoever else is tagging along to rest and lick their wounds for a few days. She's under no illusions that they'll stay for good this time. They never have before, and she's learned to abandon anything resembling hope for a happy ending, especially where she's concerned. She doesn't get to have that either, not until the Earp curse is broken.
One upside to living on the edge of town, though; you hear people coming from miles away, and the Impala's always had a distinctive sound to it, that kind of purring rumble that you feel in the soles of your boots when you're standing close enough to her. If she hadn't been warned they were coming, she would've figured it out now, long before the engine shuts off and the sounds of heavy footfalls on the old, creaky steps of the front porch reach her hearing. She's been nursing the same glass of whiskey for who knows how long now, and she sets it aside when the knock comes, maybe rushing to the door a little faster, giving her worry away in that haste.
She throws the door open and looks at him; it's not the first time she's seen him bloody — some of it his, some of it not — but it's the haunted expression on his face that stops her dead in her tracks, gives her pause, makes her curve her fingers around the doorframe instead of reaching out to him right away. That's the face of someone who doesn't know where to begin, but she can tell whatever it is, it's definitely not sunshine and rainbows. ]
You look like you could use a drink.
no subject
The world is literally on a crash course to ending and he knows it. Dean can feel it. They left the horde behind, but they'll find them eventually. Who knows. Chuck'll probably give them some divine guidance or something. They have time though. Easy to outrun the dead when you have a car that can go a hundred. But no matter how fast Dean drove he couldn't outrun the body of Jack in the trunk. Killed in front of them. He couldn't do anything to stop it and he feels the weight on his shoulders. Crushing him.
There's a half nod from Dean and for a moment he considers just letting it lie there with the drink joke. Just entering and taking that drink. He'll go out and wake up Sam eventually, but for now he wants him to rest. He needs him at a hundred percent. ] Got the whole bottle? [ But the words don't hang in the air for too long before Dean actually makes a move forward. He steps towards her and pulls her into a hug. She's in one piece. Chuck didn't get to her. He'll have to check on the rest of her group, but he knows she'd have told him if anything happened when he texted her. ]
It's damn good to see you. [ The words are softer than Dean intends. It's the first time he's stopped moving though. Everything in his mind still. His body still. ] I uh--started thinking maybe Chuck worked his freaky Chuck Almighty magic over here or something.
no subject
She's checked in on the others — Waverly's hunkered down at Nicole's place, Jeremy's with his honey bun and had definitely sent her way too many emojis in his reply back, and Doc is holding things down at Shorty's, because there's nothing like the oncoming apocalypse to make people want to drink. It's been her and Peacemaker here for the past several hours, the homestead idly settling around her with a few creaks and groans, and she's got a bottle of whiskey sitting just beside the glass she'd poured herself not too long ago.
But she makes the joke when she sees him because it's all she knows how to do; she's not good at these moments, the sincere ones where her brain is already trying to come up with at least thirty different ways to underscore it so she doesn't have to live in the meaningful for too long. She only has enough time to process his remark before he's stepping forward to wrap his arms around her — and she doesn't crumple, doesn't break, because that's not her either, but she does slide her arms around him too, tucks her face into his shoulder without care for the dried blood on his skin and clothes, and breathes him in, slow and easy. ]
You too. [ She might even let herself hold on to him for a few extra beats before withdrawing, hands gently cupping the underside of his arms as her eyes find his. ] No. Whatever he's cooked up hasn't found a way to spill over here yet. Maybe it's competing curses, I don't know. All I know is we're safe here, for now.
no subject
Right now she's just about his last leg. Because everything else may be gone, but she's there. Sam's alive and safe. Cas is somewhere doing angel things while he tries to figure out what's happening with Heaven and the chaos that Chuck has caused. When you piss off God? Make sure you have some way to maybe kill him for real so he doesn't come back and completely fuck you. Who knows how many spirits or demons are out there right now. He called Bobby on his way here and he told Dean he'd start rounding who was left up to make sure Chuck didn't get extra vindictive with them.
Her hands on him are good. They ground Dean right now. They remind him that they still got a chance maybe. They gotta figure out a way to stop what they made happen. Easier said than done though. ] That'll piss him off. Hope you're ready for when he finds a way to crack through. [ Because it's gonna be some holy fucking vengeance. They didn't go by his script. ] Cas is in town trying to figure some things out. He'll meet us here later. [ He's also likely trying to stalk Wynonna's family to make sure they're safe. But he probably looks creepy doing it.
Silence hangs in the air for a moment, but it's something he knows that he's gotta touch on with her. He's got a body in his trunk and it's been in there for hours. He can't just leave Jack in there over night. He looks away from her for a moment and then steps back. He runs a hand over the back of his neck and looks down. ] Chuck killed Jack. I uh--[ There's a shaky breath and a unstable look to him when he makes eye contact again. ]--don't know what to do with his body. He's just a kid. I couldn't leave him behind.
no subject
She'd told him once before that she'd have his back for whatever came next, whatever they had to face, and she'd meant it even in an end-of-the-world type scenario; it's not her first time dealing with one of those and she knows he's got a few apocalypses under his belt, so between the two of them and the others maybe they can even keep their shit together long enough to survive a little longer. They've cheated Death before, sometimes literally, so who says they can't pull it off one more time?
Either way, they're not going to figure it out at whatever the hell time it is now, when most of Purgatory is sound asleep in their beds completely ignorant of what's coming; in the morning, they'll put some coffee on and put their heads together and Sam and Waves can hit the books and maybe they can stumble across a fix, but for now it's just the two of them in the old house idly settling around them, the fire crackling in the other room and a bottle of whiskey to get through.
She breathes out a sigh when he mentions Jack, and for a minute there's nothing to say at all; she just closes the space between them to hug him again, guiding him to her shoulder with her cheek tucked against his. ] Do you wanna take care of him now, or — maybe we can wait for everyone else, bury him in the morning? [ Up on the hill, maybe. Near where she had to bury Dolls. ]