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The Jensen Mistake

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Jensen’s phone lights up in the middle of the night. 

That’s okay, because he’s wide awake anyway. It’s been another late shoot on the Supernatural set because monsters don’t exactly come out in daylight. 

Okay, and maybe Jared’s pranks kept them shooting a little longer. 

Like, two takes for each scene instead of yelling cut after one and moving on.

It all adds up!

Jensen reaches for his phone. It’s an email. 

Holy shit.

It’s from Eric.

Jensen immediately sits up straight in bed, bumping his head on the low overhead of the trailer. Shit. Shouldn’t have bought that second fish tank against everyone else’s advice. 

How had Mish put it? Too koi.

He clicks the mail icon. Finally, he’ll get the peace he’s been waiting for. 

It’s just that after reading the season 15 finale script, he’d been upset. 

Upset may be a bit of an understatement, actually.

Dean’s ending — dying young — doesn’t sit right with him. So Danneel had suggested asking Eric for advice. Supernatural’s his baby, after all. At the core, it’s still his show he knows and loves, and Dean Winchester is as much Eric’s as his own. 

So yeah, Jensen’s sure Eric will have wise guidance for him. 

From: Eric Kripke

To: Jensen Ackles

Subject: Re: rebar




Do it or you’re fired. ;)


Kind regards,



Jensen frowns at the screen. 

Funny guy, Eric.

The message is clear, though: no bullshit, just do your damn job. 

It’s a job Jensen’s dedicated fifteen years of his life to. Dutifully. He acted, he directed, he went to cons, posed for fan pics with a surprising amount of handholding with Misha for some reason, he retweeted The CW tweets for fuck’s sake. He’s been dedicated.

But Dean Winchester — the guy’s been through so much, you know? 

Jensen frowns. He knows Dean’s not real. Right?

But, that aside. Dean has literally been to hell.

Well, not literally. On the show. Sure. Sure.

Dean’s died so many times. Been captured and tortured. He’s had to pull love-eyes at dogs. He’s been locked in a room with 20,000 bees. He’s crawled out of his own grave. He went to hell, to purgatory

Not really, or course, Jensen reminds himself. 

But Dean fought tooth and nail for free will. And then after six months he’s supposed to die on a simple vampire hunt? Does that mean he wasn’t a skilled hunter all that time — that it was just Chuck writing him as a good hunter? 

And what about Cas? It says in the script — the angel’s alive and well in heaven. So he’s just not going to save Dean after sacrificing so much to keep him alive?

Jensen shakes his head in the darkness. One of his fish says glub. 

All that, to die so young?

Glub glub. 

He glares in the general direction of the aquarium. Yeah, so what, 43 is young! Jensen cracks his old man neck. If he decided to just work out a little more he’s pretty sure he can get like, twentysomethings thirsting in his DMs on Instagram. He’s young! He’s fresh! Forty is the new twenty, the new puberty even!

He passes out from exhaustion.



When Jensen wakes up a few hours later, it’s to a new Kripke email. Still half asleep, he thumbs it open.


From: Eric Kripke

To: Jensen Ackles

Subject: Re: re: rebar


PS: Wanna be in The Boys? Call me!

Jensen groans and grabs a bottle of whiskey. 




Those fish are like. Staring. For realsies. 



This is some real good whiskey though. Not as good as the ale he makes at the Family Business Brewing Company. But it definitely works faster. 



The fish are his friends! They want him to open another bottle!



Right around four in the morning is when the single man tears start over Dean. It’s unfair! It’s just so unfair. The fans are gonna kill him. Jensen, not Dean. Dean’s already gonna be dead. 

Jensen will simply have to go into hiding. Go live in the mountains and become a recluse who trudges through snow and shoots black and white videos just like that good little singer, Taylor Swift. 

It’s just that he hasn’t slept much. 

And also, Dean doesn’t deserve to die like that. 

And Cas — Cas. Jensen blows his nose. 

You know what? His fish are cool. He can’t believe whoever wrote that episode read him so hard in The French Mistake. So he’s an animal lover, what about it. Nothing wrong with that. It can get lonely on set, y’know. 

He opens his definitely secret Spotify account and puts on The Night We Met.



Holy shit. After an hour of Lord Huron on repeat, Jensen’s just had the best idea. 

What if, like, The French Mistake was more like a documentary? Dean is real, he feels so real to him, sometimes it doesn’t even feel like acting when he’s on set.

And, dude, what else is he gonna do? He’s out of options. 

He googles the French Mistake script to look up the ingredients for the spell to travel to the Supernatural universe, carefully steering clear of that ao3 site Misha keeps sending him links of. 

Then, he pulls out his credit card. 

Tomorrow’s his day off anyway, what a great idea, just great. Just one more sip of whiskey to toast to this idea. He’s young! He can go all night!

He passes out. 



A few hours later, he’s woken by sunlight slamming into his throbbing head.

Christ, so damn loud.

He turns over in the bed. Oh. No, not bed - more like a pillow on the floor with an empty bottle poking into his back. 

Thump. Thump. 

Oh. It’s not exactly the sunlight. It’s someone physically knocking on the trailer door. 

“It’s my day off!” He yells, immediately regretting it. He actually prides himself on always being nice to the crew, while they’re finding cloths to clean pie off from faces, for example. 

Jensen hauls himself upright and moves his reluctant body to the door, only dressed in boxer shorts and an unreleased Radio Company shirt. A new album cover design he’s playing with, definitely not based on brokebacknatural. He wouldn’t even know what that is.

Jensen groans. Opening the door is actually like watching an angel die, the white light exploding in his eyes. 

He shields them, and wishes for his own demise. 

It’s the PA. He’s holding like, five cardboard boxes in all kinds of sizes.

“Sir, these packages arrived for you.”

Jensen rubs his eyes. “How many times do I gotta tell you, Ron. Call me Jensen.”

He smiles at him trying to insinuate “look, we can be friends, go out for a drink, whatever.”

The smile immediately dips into a frown.

Jensen shakes his head at his own thoughts. He’s obviously never drinking again.

Ron shifts nervously on his feet. “This one’s eh. Bleeding a bit through the package.”

He holds out the stack like there’s a bad smell emanating from them or something. 

Jensen lifts them in his arms. 

Yeah man! Not even that heavy! Those arms would definitely get likes on the social media. 

Oof. His bicep’s straining.

Thankfully the trailer’s little table is right next to the entrance.

“Thanks, Ron,” he says, and carefully closes the door, because even the sound of his own voice is a little loud. 

First things first. He opens a beer to battle the hangover. The last time he drank like this, it was early season 7. 

Whiskey’s always a gamble.

After a few swigs of the hair of the dog, he remembers ordering this stuff, and the reason why. Right. Last hail-mary, completely idiotic attempt to save Dean. 

He opens the largest and heaviest package. Oh. That’s just more whiskey bottles. Great foresight! But he’ll stick to beer right now. And maybe Vitamin Water in a minute. 

Second package is wigs. Oh. It appears they accidentally gave him Jared’s mail too. 

The third one’s just a large bag of salt. Jensen curses Nesnej. He for sure still has salt left in the little kitchen here. 

What a waste of money, and bad for the environment, and horrible to whichever Amazon workers had to break their backs over this Celebrity Prime order to get it here so soon. 

Okay. Two boxes left. Jensen swallows and opens the dry one. Yep. The bone of a lamb. Gross!

He’s actually doing this, he supposes. 

He eyes up the bleeding package and gathers all his courage. For Dean. For Dean.

Yup, it’s spilled a bit but salvageable. 

There’s a certificate confirming the authenticity, and like, some weird cultish looking pamphlet. What is this, the Da Vinci Code? He tosses it aside. In a little vial, it’s the actual blood of actual Mother Teresa.

The blood of a lesser saint.

God, he’s going to hell.

Or, hopefully he reaches the Supernatural world pre-rebar, actually. 

He’s just a Texas man, standing in front of occult ingredients and hoping he got the SPN timezone right.

Jensen sets to work, sipping his own delicious Cosmic Cowboy beer, reciting a spell and drawing some weird sigil off a fanlore web page. Too bad there’s no YouTube how-to vid for this. 

He looks at his trailer’s small window — this’ll have to do. 

Here goes nothing.

And he throws himself through the sigil-painted glass.




There’s no crash on Canadian ground, no embarrassing moment where he’s gonna have to explain why he’s lying face-down in broken shards of company property. No. Shockingly, he ‘lands’ next to Jared. 

Wait, not Jared. Sam.

Holy shit. 

It worked! 

Jensen is inside Dean’s body. He is Dean. Dean is him. 

Sam is Sam. 

And he’s holding a box full of pies!

Hmm. He shouldn’t eat them all if he’s planning on doing The Boys. 

On the other hand, when you work out, you need carbs. 

And he’ll definitely work out tomorrow or something.

He stuffs a piece of raspberry pie in his mouth. Mmmhm. Absolutely heavenly. 

While chewing, he takes a good look around. Happy townspeople all over the place, pastel colors, ribbons, a pie van with a sign saying ‘Dabb’s pies’, children playing all around. What is this, a Gilmore Girls crossover? 

“It’s just...”, says Jared, eh, Sam. He sounds sad. “I’m thinking about Cas, you know?”

Shit, Jensen hasn’t actually learned his lines yet for this episode.

Then he remembers he’s here to fix things, not follow them by the book. 

He stuffs another Dabb pie in his face. 

“Jack…” Sam continues. “If they could be here.”

Inwardly, Jensen is cheering the guy on. Damn right, Sam.

Also, what are Dean and Sam doing here eating pie anyway?

He finishes a third piece.

If he remembers correctly from the script, he’s supposed to say something about moving on so their sacrifice isn’t for nothing. 

Well, that isn’t how this universe is gonna go. Team Free Will shouldn’t be disbanded after, you know, achieving their ultimate team goal. They’re not the Avengers. They’re family

Yeah, Jensen’s gonna break free of the narrative. Just like Dean.

Or was that really Cas? Didn’t Misha text him some essay about that? Shit, he forgot to finish it.

He looks at Sam. 

It’s super weird seeing his colleague’s face with a different personality. Even weirder when Jared’s not giving him a wedgie. 

Sam burps in his face.

Right, they’re still brothers.

“I miss Cas, too,” Jensen says. 

He tries not to smile too proudly at himself. Making it up as he goes along! 

“Jack, too. And you miss Eileen, prob’ly.”

He really shortens his syllables because of course he does. That’s how Dean talks. Jensen’s got this. He’s an artist

Sam nods. “She’ll be back from that Arkansas hunt soon.” 

Oh? So she’s alive, then. Jensen nods as if he totally knew that. 

“But I got this feeling that Cas is out there, alive, and Jack’s with him, you know?” Jensen tries to sound reassuring.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Trust me, they’re like, redecorating heaven right now.”

Sam draws his brows. "Cas is stuck in the Empty, Dean. And frankly I think it’s about time we stop going to food festivals and start planning the rescue.” 

Jensen shakes his head. “Nah, no need, he ain’t there.” 

“Dean, no.” Sam sounds exasperated. “First you flee in alcohol—”

“I would never!”

“Then you beg Chuck — of all people — to bring him back, and now you’re denying he’s even gone.”

“I swear, if you’re gonna throw some five stages of grief psychoanalysis at me like this is a Thursday night soap opera—”

“Listen, Dean.”

Jensen shakes his head. No. He knows Cas is alive, because Bobby’s going to tell Dean that later, in heaven. 

But that’s not exactly something he can explain to this character who doesn’t even know he’s fictional. 

Well, kinda.

“I don’t know whatever went down between you two in the bunker,” Sam says, throwing him A Look. “But knowing Cas, whatever fight you had, whatever words were said, it’ll be forgiven.”

Jensen can’t help but grin. If only Sam knew which words were said…

Sam just stares at him, angrily. “This isn’t funny, Dean.”

Uh. Jensen tries to school his features. He didn’t go to improv school or anything. 

But he is not going to fuck this up for Dean. 

Quite the opposite. He’s here to fix his whole life!

“You know, eh, Sam. Actually, I was thinking we should quit hunting.”


“Retire, finally. We beat Chuck, Jack is out there creating a better afterlife and after that, probably a better life. For all people on earth. There’s like, some small demon stuff here and there, sure. But we can leave that for younger hunters and have them come by the bunker and check out our library, train them even. What do you think?”

“You wanna quit hunting?” Sam looks at him like he’s grown a second head instead of a second vessel occupant. 

“Yeah, Sammy! Maybe I’ll like, open a pie shop. Or a bar, you know?”

“Dean, you’re acting really weird.” Sam’s voice rises in anger. 

“No! I’m acting in character!” He shuts the box close. “And you,” he points a finger in Sam’s face, “should be a witch, by the way.”



They drive back to the bunker in stubborn silence. 

That’s fine with Jensen, because now he can fully focus on enjoying the actual, real Impala.

From the passenger side, that is, because according to Sam he “seems a bit drunk off that banana rum pie”.

Whatever. He’s in Baby! Rebuilt by Dean with his actual hands because holy shit, Dean is real, alternate universes are real, it’s all real!

Shit. That means demons are real, here, too, then. And heaven and hell. And Lucifer. Fear grips Jensen’s otherwise so brave heart. What about all of this is real? Freaking everything!

He’s not gonna have to actually fight, right? 

Normally there’s stunt guys for that! Choreography! Cables to fly them into the air that are “definitely going to look great after special effects are added”. 

Jensen glances at Sam, whose mouth is a thin line. They’re obviously not done discussing this. 

What’s going on in that massive head of his? Sam’s smart as hell. He’s absolutely going to figure out something’s off about Dean soon.

Jensen shakes his head at himself. Okay Ackles, he thinks. 

Just breathe. You’re a good actor. You got that Kids Choice Award to prove it. You are Dean, you know him better than your own skin. 

He feels his heart settle, his legs manspread a little. It’s all good. He can do this Dean gig for just long enough to save the guy’s life. So at least in one universe, Dean Winchester can be happy.



Real-time living through the Supernatural experience is actually quite boring, Jensen discovers. It’s a long drive back. 

Time goes by the normal speed, not tv-pacing, quick scene after quick scene. Jensen starts feeling a little anxious. He’s only got one day off before he needs to get back to filming!

When they get back to the bunker, Jensen lets Sam open all the doors because, to be honest, he’s not exactly sure how to get inside when it’s an actual building and not a set.

Once they’re in, Jensen decides not to waste too much time. He beelines it to Dean’s room.

At least, to where he thinks Dean’s room would be.

But he gets lost in the bunker and might even be running in actual circles while trying to act casual to Sam whenever he accidentally arrives back at the war room space again in this whole maze of a building. 

“Dean? Don’t you wanna help me find a way to get into the Empty?” Sam glares at him from the table, where he’s buried in books. 

“I am, I am. Just, eh, I’m going about it my own way, Sammy,” Jensen smiles apologetically, and chooses a new exit.

Finally, he finds Dean’s room. 

Holy shit, there’s a dog in it.

Right. Miracle. 

He’s fluffy and adorable and — oops — looks at Jensen very suspiciously.

“Hey Miracle,” Jensen smiles. 

The dog backs up a little, the hair on its neck raised slightly.

Is that a low growl?

“Come on,” Jensen encourages the dog, holding the door open. “Where’s Sammy? Go find Sammy!”

“Miracle!” he hears Sam yell from a distance. “Come here, boy!”

Miracle complies, and Jensen sighs in relief. He locks the door behind him. He’s safe.

He’s also alone, and buried in some bunker in a universe where the scariest things exist. Jensen shivers. He’s just an actor, actually. He doesn’t even really have a give ‘em hell attitude. What if he’s stuck here? 

Well. There’s one thing he can do.

He closes his eyes and prays to Cas.

Hey, Cas, Please come down here a second, he thinks purposefully in his mind. That’s how it works, right?

He opens his eyes. Nothing.

“I know you can hear me,” he lies out loud. He can only hope. “Cas, please. I know you’re in heaven with Jack. Maybe you’re busy, maybe not. But we gotta talk.”


Jensen thinks very hard. He decides to be honest. 

“Cas, I’m going to die,” he says.

“Hello, Dean,” a low voice behind him says, and even though he was expecting it, he really totally wasn’t. 

An actual angel of the Lord has appeared out of thin air and Jensen has about thirty different crises of faith. This is definitely not Misha in a trenchcoat. It’s a celestial being. A force so large, noble, brave and surreal that it can barely be contained. 

His throat runs dry. 

Cas doesn’t look too at ease, either. 

“You don’t look like you’re dying,” the angel remarks. 

Jensen swallows. He feels a little bad — he’s stealing this moment from Dean, in a way, his first reunion with Cas after that heartfelt love confession. 

In fact, now that he’s here…

Why not fix Destiel too, while he’s at it? He can’t leave it to these dumbasses and their profoundly clueless bond.  

Maybe, out in the real world — the other real world — Dean can’t be bisexual because of market research, or Walker ratings or whatever, but this is Dean’s actual life. He doesn’t need a network stamp of approval. He’s nobody’s red-blooded American hetero hero.  

Jensen can make it happen here. 

He licks his lips. What would Bobo do?

“Cas, hear me out, please.” Jensen tries to think fast. “I’m —I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been praying to you, every night. I’m not sure why you haven’t come seen me but—”

Cas looks away.

“— well, I can take an educated guess.” Jensen smiles. “Thing is, you could have aimed higher, man.”

Cas looks up, frowning.


Jensen is messing this all kinds of up. 

“These, um, these past twelve years, we’ve been through so much together. Ever since you pulled me out of hell, there’s been a pull between us.” Jensen swallows. 

He’s no writer, he’s an actor/director, damn it. 

He directs his own body one step closer to Cas. 

“Especially these last few years, we’ve just been living at the bunker, practically raising a kid together. Like - like a couple, without the, um, the sex.”

Jensen glances at the bed. Nope, he’ll be out of here before any of that can happen.

Slowly, he raises his hand to rest on Cas’s arm. “Shit, um, I mean. I’m just sorry you thought you couldn’t have this. I’m sorry you thought the highest happiness you could achieve was in just being, and not in actually having. Because you had it, already, you had me. You have me.” 

Jensen stares at angel of the freaking lord Cas, whose face is pinched with some sort of... What is it? Without a script it’s harder to interpret. Hurt?

“Fuck it. I’ll just say it because you deserve to hear it. I love you, too, Cas.”

Jensen exhales. Whew. Cat’s out of the bag, at least.

Even if there was a little too much swearing to truly please a holy being, the heart of the message was there. Because Dean does love Cas back, even if he couldn’t say it because of, well, script rewrites and suits. 

Cas blinks at him, and clears his throat.

Jensen suddenly feels a bit nervous. Um, is this gonna involve actual kissing?

“I know you’re not Dean,” Cas says. 

“W-- What?” 

“I sensed it the second I laid eyes on you.”

Jensen drops his hand from Cas’s trenchcoat. Cas knew, and he still let Jensen suffer through all that? 

Dean was right. Angels are dicks.

Jensen’s face is beet red. “Jesus Christ.”

“Is in heaven, too.” 

“No, I mean…” Jensen sighs. “You could have given me a head’s up, you know.”

“And you could have not done that,” Cas sounds a little annoyed.

“Not a single lie in there, though,” Jensen defends his and Dean’s honor. “There’s things… you haven’t seen. Grief, that Dean goes through, whenever you’re dead. He’s shattered. Lost. he’s a mess without you, Cas. Trust me, I know.”

A brief flash of emotion crosses Cas’s face, but he controls himself quickly, like he’s impersonating a marble angel statue. “Who are you?”

“My name is Jensen Ackles and I’m an actor,” Jensen says, perfectly aware how ridiculous he sounds and how close he is to getting de-souled by an actual wrathful angel for impersonating the man he loves, and giving him a fake love confession to boot. 

“Jensen Ackles? That’s not a name,” Cas says.

“Dude. Your name is literally Castiel.”

Cas bites his lip. “Go on.”

“I play the part of Dean Winchester in some sort of parallel universe,” Jensen quickly explains. “Um, we had this one episode called The French Mistake where Dean got zapped into our universe for a second by Balthazar and…”

“What did the French do now? Merde,” Cas interrupts, eyes flashing.

Jensen wasn’t even aware the French had caused so much trouble that celestial beings took notice. “There was a lot of debris… Uh, nevermind. Anyway, I kind of tried to do the reverse thing.”

Cas starts to nod in realisation. “Yes, I remember Balthazar bringing Dean and Sam there as a distraction. And you’re from that universe?”


Cas frowns. “Why did you come here?”

Jensen takes a deep breath. “Okay, bear with me. We got the scripts for the final episodes and like, it’s ridiculous. They barely mention you and Jack, and never even talk about all of Dean and Sam’s found family, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. Where did they find more family?”

“I mean, they don’t mention Claire or Kaia or Jo or… Anyway, that’s not even the worst part. So they defeat Chuck, right. And then, like six months later, Dean dies on a hunt.”

Cas looks shocked. 

Jensen continues carefully, eyes darting around for any signs of angel grace and smiting.

Though he’s not really sure what that looks like. Probably a lot cooler than flashlights in sleeves. “I came here to warn you. Don’t let them go on a hunt for the vamp mimes.”

Cas’s mouth falls open just a little more. “That’s not a thing.”

“Yet. They will be. Look, they find out about this stupid case where people are getting their tongues ripped out. They drive to a damn barn — looks like the one we met at, by the way.”

Cas stares at him.

“Well, not we,” Jensen corrects, gulping. “You and Dean. Anyway, they fight the vamp mimes. He, um, becomes a human satay. He has the longest monologue in the history of film writing, and dies.”

Cas blinks. “He dies?”

“Don’t make me memorise that pain in the ass monologue, Cas.”

Confusion joins the pain lining Cas’s face. Great. Jensen has broken the angel. They’ve officially lost the plot.

Okay, okay. He can direct. He can do this. Jensen grips Cas by the coat lapels. “Don’t let Dean die. You flash down there and heal him, okay. Better yet, don’t even let him leave on that hunt. Have other hunters take care of that one.”

Cas’s blue Misha-but-not eyes stare back at him. There’s a hostility there still, but understanding is beginning to bleed through their edges. 

“I won’t let him die,” Cas confirms, and Jensen can tell this promise is binding.

He can feel Cas’s breath on his lips. Wait, is Cas trying to re-enact something here? Jensen tries hard not to think anything inappropriate, to not accidentally pray anything at him.

Cas rolls his eyes. He looks tired as hell. 

He presses a finger to Jensen’s forehead.


— zap —

Jensen is back in his trailer. 

On the floor, to be precise, slobbering on his pillow.

He pushes himself up. The headache’s back, too. With a damn vengeance.

But at least he’s back in his own body, in a world that has his family and absolutely no demon activity in it.  

And thank God he’s not dressed in cheap flannel. Whew.

Someone is impatiently knocking on his door.

Again? It’s his day off, goddamnit.

He stumbles to the door and unlocks it. There, smiling up at him surrounded by an ungodly amount of sunlight, is Misha. 

“Hi!” Misha beams, holding up a stack of paper. “Did you see the rewrite?”

Jensen takes the papers. “What rewrite?”

“They redid the whole thing,” Misha says, stepping inside. “Wow, weird vibe in here.”

Misha lifts one of the empty whiskey bottles and smells it, raising an assertive eyebrow at Jensen. “Rough night?”

But Jensen’s not even paying attention anymore. He’s already sat himself down at the little table and starts flipping through the new script. 






Yeah, Sammy! Maybe I’ll like, open a pie shop. Or a bar, you know?




Dean, you’re acting really weird 


ON DEAN/JENSEN. He shuts the box of pies close. He no longer has an appetite. He points a finger at Sam. 



No! I’m acting in character! And you should be a witch, by the way.


Holy shit! Jensen blinks hard. He’s in it! It’s like The French Mistake, only a thousand times weirder. Does this mean they know he… Does this mean they know he rebelled?

Jensen glances at Misha, who’s happily tapping away on his phone. 

Suddenly, Jensen realizes that there aren’t any boxes in the room anymore. Where did the lamb blood go?

He skips a few pages ahead. 




I won’t let him die.


Cass puts a finger on Jensen’s forehead. A JOLT goes through his body. Cass smiles, gripping tight to stop the body from falling. Dean is back.




Hello, Dean.


Dean’s eyes POP OPEN.



Wow, what? 

(backing away)

You’re alive? You’re back? 



Jack pulled me out of the Empty. Sorry I didn’t tell you yet, Dean. 


ON DEAN. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and stares at the floor.



Well, uh. I’m sure you were busy, Cass. 


Dean sighs, a little sad. Long silence, then Dean clears his throat. 



Cass, there’s something that’s been on my mind ever since our, um, your goodbye. 



Dean, we don’t have to talk abou—



Give me a minute here, man. 

(looking up)

Damn it, Cass. Don’t tell me we’re not gonna talk about this because seriously, you can’t drop a bomb like that on me, and Houdini outta here and expect me to not… I did a lot of thinking. I mean, the world was friggin’ empty while you were in the Empty and that was a lot to deal with. Suddenly I had a lot of time to think, you know.


ON CASS. Frozen in place. Eyes wide. He can’t believe the words he’s hearing. Is it really happening?



Ever since we met, you turned my life upside-down. I mean, before you, I didn’t even know angels existed. 


While Dean is talking, a MONTAGE starts. We see different moments spanning the entire SERIES. Starting with the entrance in the BARN, Dean STABBING Cass, Cass sitting on Dean’s bed. The montage includes all their HUGS and Dean’s moments of GRIEF every time he lost Cass. It also includes domestic scenes in the BUNKER with their family.




I knew demons existed, sure. Vampires. Weres. Freaks galore. And I’d seen so much damn suffering that I couldn’t even believe in the good parts anymore, not on earth, not in heaven, not even in me. Until I met you. 

(voice breaking) 

All these years, I’ve been trying to be the hero people needed me to be.


The MONTAGE shifts to images of Dean trying to pick up women, scenes of Dean talking to John and Mary. 




Not ever really stopping to think about what I really needed, what I… wanted.


The MONTAGE ends. We’re back in Dean’s room with Dean and Cass. Cass still hasn’t moved. 







(stepping closer)

You were right in front of me. And I couldn’t stop for one second to pull my dumb head out of my idiot ass long enough to see it. We were Harry and Sally, and I’m sorry it took me so long to realise. 


ON CASS. Emotional. Tears in his eyes, but they’re tears of happiness. Joy shines on his face. Dean is his sun.



You were right, I did everything for love. 

(he takes a deep breath)

And what I love, Cass, is you.


They kiss. CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON starts playing, but it’s the version we know from 10x05 FAN FICTION.