wings-aflutter:

thelyragw:

[NEW] SuperWho | Save the World

“Turn the crowd up now, we’ll never back down.”

Hoping not to get a strike for this one. The vid was blocked everywhere but I filed a copyright claim. :/

Sometimes, saving the world was harder than it looked.

All the blood, the gore, the screaming, the bruising fists, the words, hissed and spit, and as sharp as the knives they held, and that cut just as deep. The anger. The sorrow. The need, for touch, for love. The sick twists of guilt and shame, curled in their chests and stomachs. The pain. It was all too much.

On some days, it made Bobby look twice at the gun he had safe, tucked in his drawer, and away from two pairs of prying eyes. But it always ended the same. Those pairs of eyes that watched him for guidance, always luring him away from that tempting, empty nothingness, that made him decide to wake up to another blissful day of research, and bottomless glasses of whiskey.

On some days, it made Sam want to curl up against Dean, like when he was a kid, like when Dean was his saviour, his protector, his everything from those monsters, and who he could always count on to win. But he wasn’t a child anymore, and Dean couldn’t protect him from everything. He learned that the hard way. 

On some days, it made Dean play his choked promise to the messaging dial tone of Bobby’s phone, over and over again in his head, and then think, ‘Hey, that would sure be a way to go, down a cliff, Sam tied to the bonnet, and me in the driving seat.’ It would almost be spectacular. The Winchesters and their last extraordinary, and miraculous feat. Except, they wouldn’t make it out alive this time. And it made Dean smile. But mostly, it made Dean feel stupid. Who was going to save the unlucky, and ignorant bastards walking around in their pinstriped suits, and gleaming badges? Who was going to save all the innocent children, and mothers, and fathers, if they weren’t around? It was selfish, and so Dean stopped thinking about it, and started cleaning his guns instead.

On some days, it made Castiel ache. Something he wasn’t used to, but was gradually beginning to acknowledge, ever since the Winchesters had become the closest thing he’d ever come to family. It made him wonder with pained eyes shifted towards the cracked, and peeling ceiling, was it all worth it? The spilt blood on their hands, and bodies burning? Then, he would see Sam, see Dean laughing at some joke he didn’t understand, smiling at him, and coaxing him with his fingers for a beer he wouldn’t drink, and food he wouldn’t eat, and realise. Yes. It was worth it.

But sometimes, saving the world was easy.

Amy’s sweet, and loving smiles, after brushing a lock of Sam’s hair out of his face. Rose’s hand on Dean’s arm, understanding, knowing, that sometimes, Dean just needed someone to be there for him, who wasn’t tied through flesh and blood. Martha’s laughter when Dean had been drugged up that one time, acting a little loopy, after breaking his leg, and had been sent by Bobby to look after him. Rory’s annoyance at Dean when he’d had far too much fun flirting with Amy, and his hurried, excited discussions with Sam, working together with him to play jokes on a rather pissed off Dean. Donna and Jack’s flirtatious, and hopeful natures that sometimes, were unbearable, but made all the Winchesters, Castiel, Bobby feel like altogether, they could pull off absolutely anything. The Doctor’s stories, that Castiel listened to with rapt attention, in his big blue box, bigger on the inside, but so insignificant on the out. About planets, and galaxies, and universes stretched out across the sky, yearning to be found.

It made Castiel happy. It made Dean press a warm hand against his back as he too, listened in awe, with Sam crouched beside the Doctor’s, shoulders brushing companionably. It made Amy and Rory smile together, as they leaned against the side of the TARDIS with their arms on each other’s waists, with Bobby, in the background, fingers wrapped around an actually bottomless whisky glass that the Doctor had procured from somewhere. And every single time, when they were all together, he would whisper, ‘Idjits,’ but with the biggest smile the old face could manage.

Sometimes saving the world was hard.

But mostly, with hands clasped tight, knowing that no one would ever back down, that no matter what happens, they’d do it all together, as a family.

It was easy.