"Never again shall you thirst, for I am come to wet your mouth with wine and water, to quench your thirst with kisses. Words of Love from my own lips will serve as your oasis, and you shall never want for drink again."
jack says you can’t go into the empty. jack says it’s too loud in there. jack woke up the empty. jack made it loud, filling the space with angelic screeching, with the screams and wails of demons. no human could stand the noise. no human could survive it.
dean looks like he’s been punched, looks like he might cry. sam’s face is a careful mask as he places a delicate hand on his brother’s shoulder. neither of them wanted to hear these news. jack looks well and truly sorry to have delivered it.
eileen steps forward.
i’ll go, she says. the winchesters exchange looks. a smile grows in the corners of sam’s mouth. eileen pulls on dean’s jacket, the one with the bloody handprint painted on the sleeve. she curls her hand around an angel blade. she gives sam a kiss on the lips, and dean a kiss on the forehead, wrapping a hand around his neck and hauling him down to her height. she ruffles jack’s hair, and he opens up a tear in the universe.
the empty makes a horrible screeching noise, the sound of millions of angels screaming, the sound of demons wailing and hissing. sam and dean fall to their knees, cover their bleeding ears. eileen leaps into the portal.
it closes behind her. dean and sam sit in the bunker library in silence. dean stews in self-loathing–why couldn’t he have rescued cas, why’d he have to risk eileen, what if something happens, they can’t afford for both winchester brothers to wallow in grief, god he’s such a fuck-up–and sam waits with bated breath. he knows eileen will come back. he knows she’ll have cas with her.
i wish we got to know more about eileen than her Tragic Backstory :/
you want something done right you gotta do it urself. her favorite snack food is cheetos, when she was six she had a beloved purple butterfly hairclip, she likes to do origami, she’s really bad at making toast, she ran away from a lot of foster homes, she loves the smell of lavender. she can open a beer with her teeth and she’s never lost a game of jenga. she likes to lay in the grass on a sunny day but not for very long because she has a grass allergy. she won the spelling bee in 7th grade.
dean is so tactile he would’ve loved learning and using ASL :’) gossiping with eileen, using signs as expressive emphasis when telling stories, signing when he’s too overwhelmed to speak, and did i mention gossiping with his new best friend eileen :’)))
another morning, another day im once again angry at cvv for erasing a deaf woman from the story
yeah im ranting about this again, get over it.
do you know how amazing it was that a disabled character had a story that wasn’t centered around their disability? to be the romantic interest for one of the main heroes? and that their abled/disabled romance wasn’t focused on the disabled person being “fixed” and the abled partner was actually making accommodations for them???
(SAM FUCKING CONTINUED TO LEARN ASL AFTER SHE DIED EVEN LIKE????)
it was fucking amazing and, sadly, groundbreaking.
i said this on twitter yesterday, but the only time this ever happens is when disabled people produce/write/star in the stories themselves. they have to put in all the labor in order to get stories where they’re not belittled and othered. that’s fucking bullshit. why do they have to do everything???
eileen deserved way fucking better than “strong implications”. the disabled community deserved better than the ableist corporate executives
Sam lets them both into the bunker with the key he still keeps in his pocket. Eileen trails hesitantly behind him, grimacing but trying not to show it.
“HEY! SAMMY!” Dean booms, from somewhere.
“Hey, Dean!” Sam calls back. He puts a hand on Eileen’s lower back, feels the tension there, and then immediately takes it back.
It’s ok, he signs. This is home.
Eileen reaches up and moves his hand down below his ear. “Home,” she corrects, showing him.
His cheeks turn pink like they usually do whenever she corrects him. It’s freaking adorable. She squeezes his hand before releasing it. “It’s ok, you were close. You’re getting better.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles, but he smiles as he says it.
She smiles back and takes a breath before descending the stairs. She has a reason to be nervous.
