“Love is a drug that you can’t deny, I’m your dream boy but you’re not my type.”

— You didn’t know how you got so madly in love with Sam Winchester.

Obviously, Dean was the more reasonable choice, right? He was the heartthrob—experienced, good flirter..

But Sam’s caring nature and big heart just seemed to intoxicate you and put you under some sort of spell.

You just couldn’t tell him. Why, though? You’ve known the both of them for more than a year—they were some of your closest friends, you definitely had a chance, right?

You were too insecure to believe that, though. He was quite literally an angel—if only Angels weren’t dicks. You didn’t deserve him and his big brain or kind heart in any sense of the word.

Now what was the easiest alternative?—making sure that he couldn’t get the chance to say no.

That’s how you found yourself sitting here—selling your soul for some love potions. You were desperate, you desperately wanted to feel life with Sam—love with Sam.

“I can give you these free samples—then, we can negotiate a deal for some payment.”

The man drawled, sliding two glittering vials across the table and into your hands with a devilish grin.

You knew this man was a demon. Hell, it was the exact demon that Dean and Sam were hunting. But who were you to judge? You didn’t know how else to feel like Sam could love you back.

So you did it.

You spiked his drink over lunch in some run-down diner off the road, and waited for the potion to kick in.

And lord did it work. He was almost instantly all over you. He had told you he loved you almost three times in the past few hours, and now.. you found yourself in a wedding gown, a ring on your finger, waiting in a chapel—to get married.

You couldn’t believe it. Maybe this was going too fast.. But god, he was a dream. He lingered next to you, strong, like a protective force. You couldn’t ask for anything better.

That was, until Dean burst through the doors of the chapel—expecting to get a lead on the case—just to find his little brother, about to get married.

“You—what, you’re marrying him?”

Dean scoffed, his green eyes looking more offended than they ever had been prior to this very moment.

“God—it’s bad enough that you decided to ghost me for a week—but now I have to hear from Ms. Doubtfire down the block that you guys are getting hitched? Really?!”

The frustration in dean’s gruff voice was palpable, and just the way he stood made the tension coiling in his every joint even more noticeable.

Sam—thankfully—in the heat of the surprise, sent you off to talk with the officiant as he needed a “brother-brother” talk.

“Come on Sammy. She ghosted us for—what—a year, and the one day she shows up suddenly you’re all head over heels? What’s next—Sammy Junior?”

You could practically sense the frustrated hand that Dean ran over his face, as Sam spoke, trying to negotiate with him. The conversation wasn’t the most pleasant to overhear, but the rustle of suits and the hum of the church make it strangely safe.

“Look—Dean, this is real, okay? I know there are some rough lines, but.. I don’t know, we met up and had some lunch, and I just.. I realized how amazing she is. She’s kind, and beautiful, Dean, I love her.”