scourgehook
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[“I had… depression before I was turned.” Scott admitted.
“Oh.” That didn’t seem to be the answer Owen was expecting.
“It’s why I… have blue hair, it’s why I paid someone to turn me and it’s why I loved being a vampire.” He said.
“It cured it for you.” Owen realised.
“The power made me feel alive, I could be me.” He stared at the shadows that no longer welcomed him as one of their own, instead it felt like they were closing in on him, preying on his senses and infecting his body.
“I’m surprised you reverted back.” Owen said honestly. “I didn’t regain the disease on my skin after being cured.”
Scott glanced at him. “You said your skin was irritated.”
“Well yeah, but it’s nothing like what I dealt with before.” He said.]---
Or
---Legundo found a way to cure the vampires. Scott and Owen aren't having a good time.
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Bookmarked by scourgehook
16 Aug 2026
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The problem, Sam thinks, is that his cheek still really fucking hurts, and that’s kind of making it hard to search for snarky rejoinders to being punched in the face, or even to ask, hey, Dean, what the hell, I’m like two-thirds of your size and that really hurt, cause the part of Sam’s brain that’s normally focused on being quick and clever and whining at Dean is currently occupied telling him don’t ask him, you idiot, cause you don’t want him to hit you again.
1994-2005. Dean hits Sam kind of a lot.
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Bookmarked by scourgehook
29 Apr 2026
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What was the importance of a soulmate, to someone without a soul? If Dean swore this version of Sam was not his brother, despite all the evidence, then why continue to act like he was?
“You don’t have to protect me anymore.” Sam said, matter of fact.
Broad shoulders went still, Dean’s back rigid and stiff. “Yes I do.”
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Tucked away in the bathroom that morning, Sam resolved he still couldn’t fully recognize himself. He practiced a smile in the mirror, squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose, the way he naturally used to.
With everything stripped away, no sense of self, Sam realized that there was nothing else left inside.
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TLDR; Sam sees the world a little differently without a soul.
Bookmarked by scourgehook
11 Feb 2026
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Let it be said, John Winchester has nothing against gay people. Sure, it’s a little odd sometimes, but he knows his own personal discomfort shouldn’t impact the way other people live their lives. He doesn’t care so much. He’s open-minded. He’s a modern man. And that’s a good thing, too, with a son like Sammy.
October 1996. John Winchester worries that thirteen year old Sammy is gay, Dean Winchester worries about John worrying, and Sam is blissfully oblivious.
OR:
Dean, always trying his best to get between John and Sam, even when Sam’s nowhere nearby and the only fight they’re having is in John’s head. But he’s right. Though that makes John think, suddenly, of his concerns—concerns?—from earlier. Soccer. It is a girly sport, right? Who plays soccer? Europeans, eight year olds, and girls, at least in John’s experience. Is he hopelessly behind the times? “Dean,” he says. “Is it just me, or do you think soccer’s kind of a girly sport?"Series
Bookmarked by scourgehook
09 Dec 2025
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Maybe Dad doesn’t beat them, Sam thinks, but Dean was still coming back from hunts with broken bones at age twelve, and maybe Dad says he’s trying to avenge Mary’s killer, but he’s still the one who took the normal life Sam could’ve had away and ripped it to shreds, then screamed at him for wanting pieces of it.
December 1999. Sixteen-year-old Sam Winchester keeps having dreams where he kills his father.
OR:
my thesis on teenage sam winchester, told through a series of chronological vignettesSeries
Bookmarked by scourgehook
09 Dec 2025