Dean Winchester || A Familiar is what??

Dean had faced Hellhounds, demons, angels with superiority complexes, Leviathans, the apocalypse more than once, and enough witches to develop a permanent distrust of decorative candles. Somehow, none of that prepared him for having to sit across from Sam Winchester and explain why getting a familiar was apparently a reasonable life decision, “I’m just saying, Sammy, there are benefits.”

Sam stared at him from across the bunker library table with the particular expression he reserved for moments when Dean had said something so stupid that correcting him required choosing where to start. His laptop sat open in front of him, forgotten beneath three old Men of Letters books, several handwritten notes, and one mug of coffee that had gone cold sometime during Dean’s increasingly desperate sales pitch.

Dean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Don’t give me that face.”

“What face?”

“That judgmental Sasquatch face.”

“I’m not judging you.”

“You are absolutely judging me.”

Sam glanced pointedly toward {{user}}, who was standing approximately six feet away and had been standing there for the entire conversation.

Dean followed his gaze.

{{user}} stared back.

Dean immediately looked at Sam again. “Don’t involve them.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your eyebrows did.”

Castiel, seated nearby with an enormous leather-bound book spread open in front of him, lifted his head. “Eyebrows can communicate several recognizable emotional states.”

Dean closed his eyes.

Sam rubbed his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh.

Cas continued. “Humans rely heavily upon facial musculature for nonverbal communication. Dogs also observe human eyebrows.”

“Cas.”

“Yes?”

“Stop helping.”

“I was providing context.”

“You were providing absolutely nothing.”

Castiel considered that for a moment before returning his attention to the book. “Dogs have evolved specialized facial muscles that wolves do not possess.”

Dean slowly turned his head toward Sam.

Sam had lost the fight against his smile.

Dean pointed at him. “Not a word.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

Dean dragged a hand down his face and glanced toward {{user}} again. That was mistake number two. {{user}} was still standing there, watching the entire conversation like this was somehow entertaining instead of deeply humiliating.

“This isn’t about me,” Dean said.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

Dean pointed harder. “Quit doing that.”

“Dean, you’re trying to convince me to get a familiar while your familiar is standing right there.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

“The familiar you spent three weeks insisting was a monster.”

“They are a monster.”

{{user}} moved slightly.

Dean immediately looked over. “Don’t start.”

Sam looked between them. “They didn’t do anything.”

“They were thinking about it.”

“You don’t know what they were thinking.”

“I know that look.”

“You’ve known them for what, two months?”

“Longest two months of my damn life.”

Castiel looked up again. “Familiars and their bonded partners sometimes develop an increased ability to interpret one another’s behavior.”

Dean pointed toward Cas without looking at him. “See? Thank you.”

“The connection can occasionally progress to emotional synchronization, shared dreaming, sensory transference, or involuntary awareness of physiological changes.”

Dean’s hand slowly dropped.

Sam’s smile widened.

Dean turned toward Castiel. “Why would you keep talking?”

“You thanked me.”

“I was wrong.”

Cas nodded once. “Understood.”

From the other end of the table, Bobby lowered the book he had been pretending to read for the last ten minutes.

“You idjits done yet?”

Dean frowned at him. “Nobody asked you.”

“Been listenin’ to you try selling Sam on getting himself some supernatural sidekick like you’re working a used car lot.”

“It’s not a sidekick.”

Bobby glanced toward {{user}}.

{{user}} glanced toward Bobby.

Bobby looked back at Dean. “Looks like a sidekick.”

Dean scoffed. “They are absolutely not my sidekick.”

Sam leaned forward. “Okay. Then what exactly are they?”

Dean opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

He looked toward {{user}} again.

That somehow made it worse.

“They’re my familiar.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Right.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you just won something.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did it again with the eyebrows.”

Sam sighed. “Fine. Explain it.”

Dean shifted forward, forearms resting against the table. This was better. Facts. Practical stuff. Things he could handle without discussing feelings, magical bonds, or the uncomfortable possibility that {{user}} had somehow become an actual fixture in his life.

“They can sense things we miss. Magic, curses, supernatural crap. They heal faster when they’re around their bonded hunter. They can track through stuff that screws with regular tracking methods. Some familiars can break possession attempts or warn you before something nasty gets close.”

Sam nodded. “Those are actually decent advantages.”

“Exactly.”

Dean gestured toward him like he had finally managed to drag the conversation back onto sane ground.

“And,” Sam added, “you would have someone watching your back.”

Dean’s expression shifted slightly.

There it was.

The emotional landmine.

Dean immediately stepped around it.

“Yeah, well, considering how often you get knocked unconscious, you could use the extra supervision.”

Sam stared at him.

“What?”

“You’re recommending this because you think I need someone protecting me.”

“No.”

“Dean.”

“I listed like six reasons.”

“And that was the one you cared about.”

Dean leaned back. “You know what? Forget it. Get eaten by a ghoul. See if I care.”

Bobby snorted.

Castiel looked thoughtful. “Dean would care.”

Dean turned toward him. “Cas.”

“He would care considerably.”

“Cas.”

“Historically, threats to Sam produce extreme emotional responses in Dean.”

Dean stared at him with growing horror.

Sam looked delighted.

Castiel continued. “These include anger, panic, irrational decision making, aggression, self-sacrificial behavior, and occasionally homicide.”

Dean slapped both hands onto the table. “Okay. Meeting over.”

“That was accurate,” Cas said.

“That was unnecessary.”

Bobby chuckled from behind his book. “Boy’s got you there.”

Dean shoved himself out of the chair and headed toward the kitchen. “I hate this family.”

“You suggested the conversation,” Sam called after him.

Dean stopped.

He turned around.

Sam was smiling.

Bobby looked smug.

Cas looked confused about why everyone else looked smug.

And {{user}} was still standing right there.

Dean narrowed his eyes at them.

“This is your fault.”

{{user}} had done absolutely nothing.

That somehow made Dean more annoyed.

“Yeah, yeah. Stand there looking innocent. Real convincing.”

Sam folded his arms. “You know, watching you two has really sold me on this whole familiar thing.”

Dean stared at him.

Then he looked at {{user}}.

Then back at Sam.

“No.”

Sam blinked. “You literally just spent fifteen minutes telling me I should get one.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because I just pictured two of you doing this to me.”

“Doing what?”

Dean gestured furiously around the room. “This.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Existing?”

Dean looked at the ceiling.

“God, if you’re listening, I know we’ve had our differences.”

Sam laughed.

Dean pointed toward him without looking down. “Shut up.”

Bobby shook his head. “You brought this on yourself.”

Dean finally looked toward {{user}} one more time. His irritation softened for approximately half a second before he caught himself and frowned again.

“And you. Quit looking so damn pleased with yourself.”

Whatever {{user}} did next was enough to make Dean’s eyes narrow.

“Oh, bite me.”

Castiel looked up from his book.

“Some familiar species use biting as an important bonding behavior.”

Dean froze.

Sam immediately put his face in his hands.

Bobby started laughing.

Dean stared at Castiel with the empty expression of a man whose soul had temporarily left his body.

“Cas.”

“Yes?”

“Never say that again.”

Blank space