Poor Fuckers

At first it was just a joke. Back when demons were just a myth and angels were unicorns.

Those poor fuckers.

Dean and Sam always prepared for every hunt with extra precautions. They wore swat gear and always had extra ammo and never left home without an iron something. They were defending more than just their own bodies, after all.

There were always going to be the lucky shots. A punch here, a broken rib there. Always, either Sam or Dean would say it.

Those poor fuckers.

They wished they could ring their ladies up to let them know why they were waking up with cracked bones and bruised faces but that wasn't how the world worked.

Oh sure, there were ways. Ads in the paper and social media sharing friendizes. Magic spells and hoodoo. And who could forget the crazies who carved their name into their flesh along with a telephone number? But those weren't the Winchester way.

Besides, those ladies were real sweet to them. Sam and Dean never had any scratches. Not as much as a papercut. Who were they to question their other halves? Ruin their lives with things that go bump in the night? Those poor fuckers were already walking on eggshells with the amount of bruises the Winchesters gave them every day. They probably feared what would happen if their mates were not in tip top and shiny condition. Probably assuming they were cops or military or something.

They owed those ladies a beer.

Then came the time when Sam died. Stabbed in the back.

Dean knew what it would mean to barter his life away for Sam's. It would be his and his mate's. But that would get him Sam and his mate's. Two for two. So he found himself a demon and made himself a deal.

He really hoped his poor fucker of a mate didn't suffer as much as he did before going down. At least in Hell he could feel every bump and bruise they so lovingly gifted him. No torture for her though.

When Dean woke up in his grave, he had the same thought again.

Poor fucker.

Hopefully whoever buried her did it in a shallow grave or he would be keeling over again pretty damn soon.

It was all fine and dandy from then on. If you called the apocalypse fine and dandy which… yeah. Their poor fuckers were just another reason to add to the list of saying no to fucking Michael and mother fucking Lucifer. God only knew -if the sick bastard was actually out there- what would happen to their other halves if they said yes.

Then things went to shit.

The last thing Dean and Sam said to one another before they left for the hunt that would result in Sam's resounding yes was 'those poor fuckers'.

Then came the field where Adam and Sam faced off as Michael and Lucifer. The battle to end all battles ended with a rogue angel throwing a holy molotov cocktail. Lucy's hand went up and Cas went boom. Then Dean felt his insides heat and the world went black.

Heaven was so much better than hell. Like, a fuck tonne better.

Cas explained a while ago that each heaven was shared between mates. So even though Dean was dead, at least he would get to apologize to his other half for the shit life she must have had.

Dean was just about to open the door to his cabin in the sky when the lights turned back on.

Cas was above him, a finger to his temple. "Hello, Dean."

Dean blinked his eyes open. It was the two of them alone.

Dean voiced his first thought, "What the fuck happened?"

Dean's second thought was, those poor fuckers.

Sam was in hell.

Dean had just un-died. Again.

How many times had his girl been scarred by that? She was probably used to it by now.

Dean didn't think anything of it until Castiel fucked up big time.

All those souls. Pieces of wholes ripped apart and shoved into that vessel. Cas couldn't hold it. It made Dean sick.

Literally, sick.

Cas was swimming in power and Dean was drowning in pain.

Sam couldn't figure out what the hell had Dean so sick. They joked that their poor fuckers were finally getting revenge on them for all the years of torture. But Dean wasn't so sure that was it. There was something nudging the back of his mind, begging him to pay attention.

Sam tried to stop Cas but he didn't have his backup. Cas drifted into the water and everything turned to black.

Dean woke up in a hospital of some kind. There was a man with shaggy hair next to him but Dean couldn't figure out who he was. Next to him was some blue-eyed dude with a trench coat but same thing.

The one with the girl hair said he was his brother but Dean couldn't remember a brother.

The trench coat said some bull shit about angels but Dean shook his head and laughed.

Once the two of them shared a look, all it took was for trench coat to touch his head and his memory flooded back.

"Whoa," Dean said. "That poor fucker must have got herself in a car crash. That was full on amnesia. I could have been a Hallmark movie. Thanks, Cas."

The world continued to be shit and Dean waded through it as best as he could. Doesn't mean he did a good job of it.

Team Free Will split up. Sam was taken by Gadreel, Cas was human and on his own, and Dean was fucking miserable about it. Not to mention he'd been feeling like absolute shit.

Sam was right. His poor fucker was taking her revenge on him. He was tired all the time, his insides hurt, he had constant back pain and headaches, and cuts and scars kept popping up in random places.

When he and Sam walked in on that bitch April stabbing Cas, Dean must have lost it because he blacked out.

Heaven was still pretty awesome. Maybe even more so because the angels were MIA. The cabin was still there, door waiting for him, open and ready. This time he even spotted a bird swooping from overhead. He was just about to walk up the steps when the light turned on again.

Gadreel was standing over him this time, Cas in a heap on the floor, but breathing.

Those poor fuckers.

Things got dicey for a while. Dean's health didn't really improve much but he became accustomed to it. His mate must have figured shit out at some point because whatever she was doing it was working. There were small bursts of feeling just like his old self followed by a dramatic downfall once again. And Dean was just about to repay her with something really shitty.

Mark of Cain.

Poor fucker.

The world was full of fucked up shit and Dean was about to make it that much more so for her. She never asked to become a demon and yet here Dean was, giving her the opportunity to experience hell for a lifetime. They would both live forever but she would be the demon and he would be her keeper.

At least he would get to meet her.

Heaven was back on the table for all of two seconds before his eyes opened again. It seemed he would never get his chance there.

Crowley was above him, watching. He disappeared before Dean had the chance to gank him. Dean ran out to Sam who was already searching the websites and police radio for any signs of a demon popping up out of nowhere.

Two seconds later, Castiel appeared just outside the bunker door, his eyes flashing black.

The first thing the Winchesters did was knock Cas the fuck out and shove him into the chair, chaining him up with everything they had. They had dealt with rogue 'your new god' Castiel before. But semi-angel Cas with a demon booster? Fuck no.

"How the fuck did this happen?!" Dean yelled.

The chains seemed to hold. As did the demon wardings.

As soon as the angel/demon woke up he started to chuckle. It was all the more devilish with his black eyes.

"Cas?" Dean asked warily.

Sam was still on Mark watch duty.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said. He sighed and inspected the room, nodding to himself. "This is where you were going to put your mate? Cozy."

"Yeah, well, life's a bitch."

"Yes it is." Cas nodded solemnly. "I understand that now. I've been human long enough to understand the struggle humans feel. You were a part of that. My living on the streets, being homeless and lost. Needing to beg for food and water. Cold and alone. Unable to survive on my own because as long as you have known me you have done nothing but mock me. You have hated my kind from the start and blamed me for being one of them. You made fun of me to my face, disrespected me at every turn, and laughed at my help. You used me and abused me at every opportunity you had and when I was no longer powerful enough to be manipulated in the way you wanted, you threw me out. This power, demonic as it is, is very refreshing." He smiled wide as his white angel eyes flashed behind the demon veil. "It does come from God after all."

Dean swallowed and ignored the most of that for later. "How do you figure that? You know why your eyes went all smokey?"

"You still don't know, do you?" His head cocked to the side. "Interesting."

"Feel like sharing?"

"What goes around comes back around. Justin Timberlake was very wise."

Dean told Sam what Cas was like. That he had somehow reverted back to being a big bag of dicks like all other angels, but wouldn't spill the how.

Sam was the one to figure it out. He always would be the one, the little genius he was.

"Think about it. Cas is an angel. Hard to hurt, hard to kill. He probably didn't even feel the broken bones you got as a kid. Your deaths were literally nothing to him. But when he died you did. We thought it was just a close call or coincidence, but what if it wasn't? You started to feel like crap when he turned human. Cas rarely actually gets hurt in battle but you've had his wounds and we chalked it up to coincidence or magic or whatever. Then the Mark of Cain was supposed to turn your mate into a demon and Cas shows up with black eyes? I mean. It all lines up."

"Except for the fact that Cas is a dude!"

Sam argued over the gender of the Ken Doll angels while Dean processed.

A human and an angel pairing? What the fuck was that? Could it have been Cas all along or what about Jimmy? Jimmy was a fucking dude so no. Besides Jimmy would have given him bruises as a kid at least. And Sam had the same thing. He had to. But who was Sam tethered to? Another angel or something else?

After six beers, Dean felt ready to figure out what the fuck this was supposed to mean.

Dean opened the door to the dungeon and found the chair empty, no Cas in sight.

Dean's first thought was voiced through a loud, "FUCK."

His second was Cas's voice promising karma by way of JT.

The third was in his head, as usual, but he couldn't help feeling his prayer hat was on.

You poor fucker.

AN: No, I will probably never continue this. If you wish to do so in my place I am more than willing to support your writing quest! (and let you in on who Sam is tethered to)(maybe)